As soon as the adults had gone, Bethie gathered her troops and put her plan into action. Hurrying up the stairs, as fast as Jesse could manage, anyway, they congregated in the kitchen, settling Cal in the observation area with one of his stuffed toys to suck.

“Now what?” Hope asked, running a hand through her soft blonde curls.

“Help me.” Bethie grabbed one of the chairs, lifting it with difficulty and carrying it around the counter, her little tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. Putting the chair down, she pushed it as close under the cupboards as she could. She turned to glare at the others. “Come on.”

Ben looked at Ethan, who shrugged and grabbed his father’s chair. His best friend followed, Hope picking up a third. Jesse helped by the simple expedient of taking hold of a chair and dragging it along the floor, producing a squealing sound that made everyone wince and Fiddler run from the room, his tail tucked under him.

“Why are we doing this again?” Ben asked.

“’Cause I want to ‘pologise,” Bethie said, taking his chair and placing it at the base of the pile. “For making your nose bleed.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ben said, sniffing experimentally. “Momma gave me one of her candied fruits to make up for it.” He still sounded a bit nasally from Simon having stuffed his nostrils with cotton wool to stem the flow, which reminded the rest of the children of the time they’d been on Lazarus and he’d pushed a flower bud up his nose. Simon had spent a long time trying to get it out again, and when asked why he’d done it, Ben just shrugged and said that it fit.

“Still need to.” She took Ethan’s and balanced it on top.

“Bethie …” Ethan wasn’t at all sure about this. “Maybe we should get one of the ladders from the cargo bay.”

“They’re locked away,” the girl said, putting Hope’s chair higher up. “And this is better. We don’t know how long everyone’s going to be gone.”

“But this isn’t safe.” He hitched his thumbs behind his little suspenders.

“Just help, will you?” she s