The Last Hour of the Moon Lily

At five to midnight, the college garden is dark and quiet. Only one building glows. It is the old glasshouse. Inside it, a white flower is about to open.

Jasmin stands beside the plant with a small brush in her hand. She is a student, and this is her whole project. The plant is a moon lily. It blooms once every seven years, for exactly one hour, at midnight.

"Tell me again," says Mabel. She sits on an upturned bucket and eats an apple. "Why does it need a second flower?"

"One lily cannot make seeds alone," Jasmin says. "It needs pollen from another lily. And there is only one other lily in this college."

"The baby in the north glasshouse."

"Yes. It is only three years old, but it opens tonight too. This time it is early. If they miss, both plants wait seven more years."

Mabel stops chewing. "Seven years is a long time."

"I will be a different person in seven years," Jasmin says. "Maybe with a different job."

The lily stirs. The tight white bud shivers. A thin line of silver light shows between its petals. Jasmin holds her breath. It opens slowly, like a hand. The whole glasshouse turns pale blue.

Pollen floats up from the centre. It glows like tiny stars. Jasmin catches it on her brush. The glow is bright, but it will not last. Moon pollen dies in ten minutes once it leaves the flower.

"Ten minutes," she says. "Mabel, we must go now."

They run. The glasshouse door bangs behind them. The path to the north glasshouse crosses the whole garden. It passes the pond and the benches. It also passes a fence with an iron gate. At a fast run, it takes eight minutes.

The brush glows in Jasmin's hand, a small star in the dark. Mabel runs beside her with a torch.

"Faster," Mabel says.

"I run as fast as I can!"

They reach the fence. The iron gate stands open. But it is a heavy gate with a spring. Every night, it swings shut by itself. It locks with a loud click. The college does this to keep strangers out. Tonight, it swings shut just as they arrive.

Click.

Jasmin grabs the bars. The gate does not move. The lock is solid. The key is in the office, across the garden.

"Four minutes left," Mabel says, looking at her watch.

"We can climb it."

"The top has spikes, Jasmin."

"Then we go around."

"The fence goes all the way to the road. That is ten minutes." Mabel turns in a slow circle, thinking hard. "Wait."

"What?"

"Water." Mabel points at the ground by the fence. A grey pipe comes out of the earth on this side. It goes under the iron bars. Then it comes out on the other side. It leads straight to the north glasshouse.

Jasmin stares at it. "That is the garden water pipe."

"It feeds both glasshouses from one tank. You told me that on the first day."

"Yes. But what has water to do with—"

She stops. Her eyes go wide. "A moon lily drinks through its roots," she says. "Last year I put pollen in the water of a small plant. It worked."

"Mabel, you are very smart."

"I know," says Mabel. "Tell me what to do."

"The tank is behind the pond. Open the big wheel and let the water run. I will put the pollen in the pipe."

They run back along the fence. The tank sits beside a wall. It is a round metal drum with a wheel on its side. Mabel turns the wheel with both hands. The pipe gives a deep groan. Cold water rushes along it, under the fence, toward the north glasshouse.

Jasmin kneels by the pipe. There is a small door where the gardener adds plant food. She opens it and holds her brush over the dark water.

The glow grows weak. It is a pale yellow now, like a tired candle.

"Two minutes," Mabel whispers.

Jasmin shakes the brush. The last bits of pollen fall into the stream. For a moment, they shine like sparks. Then the water carries them away. The silver light races down the pipe and under the fence.

The two of them stand still. Nothing happens.

"Did it work?" Mabel asks.

"I do not know. We cannot see inside."

"Then let us go and look."

"The gate is locked."

A light comes along the path. It is the night guard. He has the gate key on a long chain. He listens to them for a moment. Then he sighs and opens the gate without a word.

Together, they run the last stretch. They reach the north glasshouse twelve minutes after they left.

Inside, the young lily is alone in the dark. Its bud is tight and silent.

"It is too late," says Jasmin. Her voice is very small.

Then the leaves begin to shake. Far below, in the pot, a line of light appears. It shines in the soil. It climbs the stem like a slow flame. Then it reaches the bud. The petals open one by one. Soon the flower is as white as milk.

The glasshouse fills with soft blue light. Pollen drifts up from the centre, and it glows.

Mabel sits down on the floor. She is out of breath. She smiles. Jasmin sits beside her. Neither of them speaks.

Outside, the iron gate sways in the night air. It makes one last small sound, then settles. Inside, two moon lilies glow in two buildings. The garden between them is quiet.