Faded Pictures

1

Faded Pictures Mark Ellis

Published in 2007 by Collective Unconscious Copyright Š 2006 by Mark Ellis Mark Ellis has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser Collective Unconscious 15 Primrose Close, Harrogate, North Yorkshire, HG2 7SH www.collectiveunconscious.co.uk ISBN: 978-1-4457-0189-9 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Collective Unconscious, Harrogate, North Yorkshire.

Contents Whiskey

page 05

Waste

page 09

Bull Run

page 29

Yawna’s Tale

page 45

Snowmen

page 57

A Dead Horse

page 79

I know, it’s odd to be alone.

(The hardest word to use is “help”.)

Snow melts, memories are dust.

Collecting on the furniture so well.

Whiskey

“I was thinking about whiskey the other day and I thought it was quite weird that they can be, like, fifty years old.”

“Yeah?”

I nod at her and take a sip of my drink.

The bar is full of people dressed in black suits.

She is circling the rim of her wineglass with her middle finger.

“Yeah, I mean, my mum’s fifty,” I say, “which means that this whiskey is as old as my mum. Whilst my mum’s been living her life, this whiskey’s been sat in a dark cellar somewhere waiting to be drunk.”

She nods.

“I mean, the guy who put the whiskey in this bottle is probably dead.”

“And now you’re drinking that guy’s whiskey,” she says.

11

“Yeah exactly.”

“That is weird,” she says.

“Imagine this guy’s at death’s door and he says to his wife “Och Bridget, bring me a snifter y’er old stuff.”

“Och?” she says.

“Yeah I mean, we’re talking about whiskey. He’s either going to be Scottish or Irish.”

“Right.”

“And so his wife goes down into the cellar and selects a bottle dated from 1914.”

“Right, so this all happened in 1964?”

“Yeah, his wife brings him the bottle and they open it and pour a bit into an old metal beaker that he’s got by the side of his bed.”

“Surely he’d have to throw out the stale water that was already in the beaker.”

“Yeah, he just throws it onto the floorboards. Then he raises the beaker in his trembling hands and his wife pours in some of the whiskey. He brings it to his lips and takes a pained gulp.”

“And then he dies?”

“No, and then he says. “What’s this Bridget? It tastes like pish.””

“And then he dies?”

“No death comes to him slowly and painfully.”

12

“That’s horrible.”

I empty my glass and put it on the bar.

“Yeah, maybe.”

13

14

15

Waste

I saw somebody step in front of a train today. A woman screamed and there was a sound like a wet sponge hitting a wall. That’s all I can say about it really. The doors of the train opened and my friend stepped off. She smiled at me.

“Hi,” I said.

“What’s that about?” she gestured towards the group of people who were peering beneath the train.

“I don’t know.” I said turning my back to the crowd. “Shall we go?” She nodded and we made our way off the platform.

“Can you believe it cost me fourhundred and fifty yen to travel four stops?” she said.

I shrugged. “I don’t really ride the train.”

“Me neither. I didn’t realise it was so expensive,” she said.

17

I nodded.

She stopped. “I can’t believe Samuru,” she said.

“My friend can come across as rude at times,” “He didn’t have to punch him.”

I shrugged. “I think my friend was jealous because they had the same name. He hates things like that.”

Yoshiko looked at the floor.

“Something wrong?” I said.

She bit her lip and then shook her head.

“So have you seen any?” she said.

I nodded and smiled. *** We’d met the night before. It wasn’t the first time we’d met. It takes a while before you get to know someone. I was at a Jazz club in Roppongi District with a friend of mine who considers himself a poet. Downstairs they have a band playing until one, upstairs they play salsa music and people can dance. I’ve never danced. It was Saturday night and the local Salsa Champion was prowling the dance floor. My friend drank beer. I drank wine.

“He’s like an ostrich,” I said.

My friend looked up from his notebook.

“Who?” I nodded towards the dance floor.

18

My friend shook his head. “A robin.”

“What because of the colour of his waistcoat?”

“If you put a male robin in a cage he can still scare off other robins that try to invade his territory.”

“Charisma?”

My friend shook his head. “Conviction.”

I nodded. My friend returned his attention to the notebook. I topped up my glass.

“Celebrating?” said my friend. I looked at him. He was still writing.

“What?” I said.

“You appear to have already consumed half that bottle of wine. Are we celebrating something?”

I looked at the bottle. “I don’t know,” I said. My friend nodded and wrote something down. I took a sip of wine. The robin on the dance floor was dancing with a girl. He spun her around. She smiled. I took a sip of my drink. A girl by the bar gestured towards our table. Her boyfriend nodded. They came over. The guy pointed at the two empty seats.

His gesture implied: “Can we sit here?”

It also implied: 19

“Are these seats taken?”

I nodded. They took that to mean “Please join us,” and sat down. The guy had big sideburns.

They were the type of sideburns that his kids would laugh at.

He’d say; “Look at what daddy looked like when he was young,” and his kids would laugh. He’d tell them that that was how people looked when he was young. His wife would agree, knowing full well that sideburns like that had never been in fashion. His wife was dying of cancer. Somethings are better kept secret when you’re dying of cancer.

I laughed at photos of my parents when they were young. I had those photos somewhere. I wanted to look at them. I wanted to frame them and put them somewhere. I didn’t know where they were. Photos weren’t so common in those days.

Somebody turned the music up. The girl was talking to me.

“Pardon?”

“I said: Is your name Kyoshi?”

I nodded.

“I thought I recognised you.”

20

I nodded again. My friend looked up from his notebook.

“Can you remember? We met outside ______ last week.”

“Outside where?”

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said. I looked into my wineglass. “I can’t remember your name.”

“What?”

My poet friend stood up and walked across to the bar. The music was turned down.

My friend came back carrying a beer. “That’s better,” he said. “I couldn’t hear myself think.”

The girl looked at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying.”

“I was trying to tell you that I’d forgotten your name.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I’m really bad with names,” I said. “I can’t always remember his name,” I nodded towards my friend, “And he’s supposed to be a friend.”

My friend was looking at me. “Samuru,” he said.

I nodded. “You see? I’m terrible. People get really offended.”

21

“My friend’s name is Samuru as well,” she said nodding towards Sideburns.

“I like your sideburns,” I said.

“Yes, I was also admiring your facial horticulture,” said my friend.

Sideburns nodded.

She sipped her drink. I sipped my drink.

She said something to Sideburns. Sideburns nodded.

“You know you didn’t actually tell us your name,” said my friend.

“Didn’t I? Oh. Sorry,” she bit her bottom lip and tilted her glass.

My friend folded his arms. “And that would be?”

A drop of liquid fell onto the table.

“Yoshiko. My name’s Yoshiko.”

My friend clapped his hands together, “At last!” he said.

“At least that’s sorted,” I said.

Yoshiko took a sip of her drink. “You never called me,” she said.

My friend frowned.

“I know,” I said. I took a sip of my drink. “You never called me either.”

“Girl’s aren’t supposed to call boys that they’ve just met,” said Yoshiko.

“I don’t really like calling girls I’ve just met,” I said.

22

“What’s wrong with that?” she said.

“I don’t know. I guess it feels creepy,” Yoshiko nodded. “That’s fair enough,” she said. “It is pretty creepy.”

I smiled. “So what have you been up to?”

“Not much,” she said.

I nodded. “That’s cool.” We sat staring into our drinks.

Yoshiko glanced towards the dance floor. “Do you want to dance?” she said.

“He never dances,” said my friend.

I nodded.

She turned towards Sideburns. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you Samuru?”

“I’ve got two left feet,” said my friend.

Yoshiko looked at him. “My Samuru,” she said.

Sideburns nodded. They stood up and walked over to the dance floor.

My friend looked at me. “When the hell did all this happen?”

“Last week.”

“Was I there?”

“I think so,” I said. “I met them when we were leaving that rock club in Harujuku.”

“Ah,” he said, “that night.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that night.”

23

“I was beginning to think that you’d taken to prowling the city on your own,” “I have other friends.”

My friend nodded and wrote something in his notebook.

I topped my wine up. “Do you think they’re a couple?” I said.

My friend looked up. “What her and the talkative chap?”

I nodded.

“Looks that way,” he said.

I nodded.

“Do you fancy her?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’s kind of weird. I wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Not my sort.”

“So I wouldn’t be stepping on your toes?”

“I’d be more worried about stepping on the silent Neanderthal’s toes.”

“So you think they’re together?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said.

I nodded.

The song finished. Yoshiko looked at our table and then said something to Sideburns, he shook 24

his head. Yoshiko folded her arms. Sideburns looked at the bar. Yoshiko nodded. They left the dance floor. Sideburns walked over to the bar, Yoshiko took her seat at our table.

“So where are you guys from?” she said.

“Yanaka district,” I said. “He lives next to Ueno park.”

“Near the zoo?” said Yoshiko.

My friend nodded.

“My brother stole a penguin from that zoo,” she said.

My friend looked up from his notebook.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

Yoshiko nodded.

“A penguin?”

“Um huh.”

“How do you steal a penguin?”

“He put it in his rucksack.”

“You are joking?”

Yoshiko shook her head. “I think he was like five or six or something, I don’t know. It was when I was ten. We were across visiting my aunty and uncle in the holidays and they took us to Ueno Zoo. Somehow we managed to lose my brother.”

“Did you think he’d been eaten by the lions?” I said.

25

“My aunty was freaking out. I mean, there are all kinds of different animals at the zoo.”

“That’s kind of the point,” said my friend.

Yoshiko looked at him. “Well they found him and were like “We’re going home, you’re having a bath and then you’re going to bed.” My brother didn’t say very much.” She took a sip of her drink. “So when we got home they ran him a bath. Mum went to fetch him a towel and when she got back she noticed there was a penguin in the bath.”

“She noticed there was a penguin in the bath?”

“Well obviously it was quite a surprise.

My brother was playing with it.”

My friend raised an eyebrow.

Yoshiko frowned at him. “Not like that.

Like a rubber duck,” she said. “He’s lucky it didn’t attack him. I don’t think penguins like hot water.”

“No not really,” said my friend. “So he just put it in his rucksack?”

Yoshiko nodded. “Apparently he’d spent all day with the penguins. I guess they trusted him.”

My friend wrote something in his notebook.

26

“The zoo charged us sixty thousand yen to come and collect the penguin.”

“That’s a lot for a penguin,” I said. “I mean, an elephant maybe, but sixty thousand yen for a penguin.

Yoshiko nodded. Sideburns came over from the bar with a bottle of wine and sat down.

“Thanks Samuru,” she said. “Do you want some wine Kyoshi?”

I nodded.

“I bet there’s some cool stuff around Yanaka,” she said.

“It’s all right,” I said.

Yoshiko turned to Sideburns. “I bet there’s some cool skips,” she said.

Sideburns shrugged.

“Skips?” I said.

“Yeah, I kind of steal things from skips and sell them to junk shops and antique dealers.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” said my friend.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Yanaka’s pretty old isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Since before the ‘23 earthquake.”

“I bet there’s all kinds of cool stuff up there.”

I shrugged.

27

“What are you doing tomorrow? she said.

We left the train station and turned right.

“Is your house this way?” she said.

I nodded.

Yoshiko smiled. “It’s so old fashioned isn’t it?”

I nodded She stopped by one of the houses.

“Check her out,” she said. An old lady was peering out of the window. She was smoking a pipe.

Yoshiko waved, “Hi!” she said.

The old lady disappeared into her house.

“Everything’s so quaint,” said Yoshiko.

“It gets pretty cold in the winter. Most of the houses don’t have central heating,” I said.

“But it’s so beautiful. You must be so happy to have a house around here.”

I shrugged. “I guess,” I said. “It’s a pretty long way into town.”

Yoshiko smiled. “This is Tokyo,” she said. “It’s a long way to anywhere.”

I put my hand in my pocket. “I guess.”

28

“Oh come on. Surely it’s better than living in one of those box houses in Shibuya. I bet you pay a fair bit to live around here.”

“It’s not too pricey.”

“Yeah right.”

“It’s just where I live, I guess. I bet you feel the same about your house.”

“I live with my aunty in Sugamo. It’s a really nice house but there’s quite a lot of us and it’s pretty hard to find your own space.

I nodded.

“I was brought up, on Yakushima Island, there’s lots of space there,” she said. “I guess that’s why I like wandering about so much.” She sighed. “Sooner or later I’m going to have to get my own place. It’s nice out here.”

“I guess it must be nice living by the sea,” I said.

“I miss it, you know? The sea air and the mountains. My dad used to take us diving. He used to say that there was treasure in the sea.

There was always tales of shipwrecks and treasure.”

I nodded. We turned left at the end of the road.

“There’s one,” she said and set off running towards the yellow skip.

I followed.

29

She looked into it and then lifted up a sheet of corrugated steel. “It’s all building stuff.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” she held up a length of plastic pipe. “I can’t see anybody wanting this,” “Somebody would want that. I bet somewhere there’s a guy who needs a bit of pipe.”

Yoshiko grinned. “I can picture him stood over a gushing sink, cursing himself for not buying that last two foot of piping.”

“Exactly,” I said. “If you had a radar that found the people who really needed something like that then you could make a fortune.”

Yoshiko nodded. “Like a domestic superhero?” she said.

I nodded.

“Come on,” she said. Now we’ve found one I’m sure there’ll be other skips around.

Skips are definitely sociable creatures.”

I frowned.

“Come on,” she said. We walked to the end of the road and turned right. “You know this area pretty well?

“I guess.”

“So if I just follow my nose then we’re not going to get completely lost?”

“Don’t 30

count on it. My sense of direction is worse than my ability to remember names.”

“But you’ll be able to find somewhere you know?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go then,” she said. She took my hand.

“Nothing?” I said.

Yoshiko pulled a broom handle out of the skip.

“Not unless brick dust is a commodity that I don’t know about.”

“Gold dust would be better,” I said.

Yoshiko looked at the ground. “I’d rather just find something that someone might want.” She started to grind a shard of glass with the end of the broom handle.

“Yeah, but imagine if we found a skip full of gold. That would be good as well.”

“What would you do with all that gold?” she said. “You can’t sell it.”

“I’m sure someone would buy it off us.

We could split the money.”

“There was a story back in Yakushima,” she said. “There was a ship full of gold heading for the Imperial palace in Kyoto. It had been stolen from Egypt or Arabia or somewhere.

Anyway it turned out that the gold had a curse 31

on it. The ship crashed into some rocks and everybody drowned,” she bit her lip. “I don’t think anything good happens when money is concerned.”

“What, so you rather spend your life rummaging through skips for a living?”

“At least it means something.

Everything I sell is one less thing that goes to waste.”

“I guess. But with a pile of money you could set up a company to do that and make even more money.”

“I don’t want money. We don’t have to pay the earth to maintain the water cycle do we?

We don’t have to pay plants to produce oxygen for us.”

“But that’s what plants do.”

“And this is what I do.”

I looked at the ground. “But wouldn’t it make you happy to have lots of money.”

“I am happy. Money just makes people greedy.”

“People will always be greedy.”

“You don’t get it, Kyoshi. Money just hurts people. My dad was always after money.

You sound just like him” “I don’t get it.”

“Before we moved to Tokyo, he used to run a salvage company, making enough from 32

exploring shipwrecks and finding the odd antique here and there.”

I nodded.

“There’s this whole community of divers out there. They get together and they tell stories and stuff. Like the story of the cursed gold?”

I nodded.

Yoshiko put the broom handle in the skip. We set off walking.

“I guess there can’t be much to do on a little island,” I said.

“Huh?” “I mean, that’s why everyone tells stories.”

“I don’t know. I was never bored. It was just different, you know? Slower. Everyone had their own things to do and we all just got by. It was good.”

I nodded. “Is that why you’re angry at your dad? For leaving the island?”

“He hasn’t left. Well I don’t know.”

“What, they split up or something?”

Yoshiko sighed. “My dad got it into his head that this treasure was real. He found this journal or something that told him where to look. All the divers were like, “Hey, Nakamurasan, you found that treasure yet?” you know, 33

laughing at him? I used to get it from the kids at school as well. One day he found me crying on the doorstep. He said. “Don’t listen to them, Yoshiko. Soon we’ll be as rich as the Emperor himself.” Apparently he’d found gold coin that dated back to that period. I think he thought he was days away from finding the rest. I hardly saw him after that. He was out diving from dawn until dusk. Then one day he just disappeared.”

“Drowned?”

“They never found his boat. My dad was a really good diver. I don’t know.”

“Do you think he ran off with the gold?”

“It’s never been reported found. You declare stuff like that. If you don’t then they can just take it all off you. My dad wasn’t stupid.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“My dad was a really proud man. If he found something that proved that the treasure wasn’t really there…” Yoshiko sighed. “I’m not sure if he could bear to come back and face the jokes.”

“Wouldn’t he have phoned or something?”

“I don’t know Kyoshi. Think of the shame he must have felt.” Yoshiko stopped. “Do you know where we are?”

34

I pointed to the line of trees on our left.

“That’s the train line down there. If we keep walking we’ll get back to Nippori station.”

She nodded. “So you see why I don’t like money? Money took my dad away.”

I nodded. “What do you want to do now?” I said.

Yoshiko shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve had enough of skips for one day.”

I looked at the floor. “I have a bottle of wine at my house we could drink.”

Yoshiko smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

We followed the train line along until we reached the station. There was an ambulance and a police car parked outside.

“I wonder what’s been going on here,” said Yoshiko.

“It’ll probably be for that guy,” I said.

Yoshiko looked at me. “What guy?”

I stopped. “When I was waiting for you I saw a guy jump in front of a train.”

Yoshiko shook her head. “That’s awful.

She looked at the ambulance. “Our train?” she said.

I nodded.

35

“Is that what all that fuss was about?”

I nodded.

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“What was I supposed to say? “Oh hi Yoshiko. Guess what? The train you were on just ran somebody over.””

“I guess. You could have gone to see if he was alive.”

“I don’t think you survive something like that. Anyway, there were plenty of people already doing that. I hate that kind of thing. I mean, unless you can actually help then you’re just in the way. I think people just stay because it’s something exciting to tell their friends.”

Yoshiko nodded. “I know what you mean. I guess people have a fascination with blood or something.”

“Would you have preferred it if I’d told you?”

“I guess it wouldn’t have made any difference,” she said.

We continued towards my house.

“I’ve been trying to imagine what goes through someone like that’s head,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

36

“I mean the guy in the train station.

Why would you want to do something like that?”

“I guess it all gets too much for some people,” she said.

“It’s selfish though, I mean, he was a businessman. He probably had a wife and kids.

What’s so bad that it could make you want to leave behind your loved ones? It’s completely selfish.”

Yoshiko stopped. To our right there was a fenced-off bit of land where somebody had knocked out the middle of one of the streets. At each end there were the remains of a house. Half a house at each side. One had its doorway intact.

There were the remnants of a kitchen with an oven and a sink. The other house had half a toilet. The toilet roll-holder was still attached to the wall. Between the two half-buildings was a hundred foot long patch of mud.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What?”

“That we didn’t manage to find anything. I’m sorry.” I pointed at the patch of mud. “Do you think that that was originally one house then one day two big hands came down and tore it apart?”

“Like the hands of fate?”

I shrugged.

37

Yoshiko was staring at the ground. “I don’t think so,” she said. I stood looking at the empty space.

“It’s a lot bigger than the space under a train,” I said.

We stood there.

Yoshiko looked up. Her face was flushed red. She looked beautiful. “I need to go,” she said.

I nodded.

She turned and started walking back towards the train station. An ambulance drove past the end of the road with its sirens on. I watched Yoshiko until she turned the corner at the top of the road. A crow squawked. It was stood on the cistern of the toilet. I stood staring at the patch of mud. I tried to imagine the businessman stood in the centre. It would take something much bigger than a human to fill it. I turned away but the sound of rushing air made me look back. The man was slowly inflating. His arms were getting fatter and his face creased inwards between his bulging cheeks. He just got bigger and bigger until his arms reached the two buildings on either side of that plot. I stood and watched him bobble about. Eventually he began to shrink again until he had returned to his normal size. I nodded at him and he returned the gesture 38

before turning and walking away. I watched him until he disappeared over the fence at the far side of the wasteland. Then I went home.

I read in the paper the next day that that man, the man from the wasteland, the man who’d jumped off the platform, had somehow survived. He’d been stuck under the train for about two hours until they managed to free him.

Somebody had given him a pomegranate to eat and somebody else had given him a banana. The man had spent two hours under a train eating fruit.

39

Bull Run

The TV flickers in the corner of Conchita’s living room. She shuts her eyes and leans back into the chair. Conchita breathes slowly listening to the wheeze that her throat produces. The church bell rings four times. She opens her eyes and raises herself from the chair. The television shows another American drama that has been dubbed into Spanish. This one is about a man who can fly and see through walls. She walks over to the TV and switches it off. Her son smiles at her from the photograph sitting on top of the television set. She picks it up and kisses his face. Her lips remove a circle of dust from the glass. She shakes her head and then dusts the picture with her sleeve. Then she dusts the top of the television set and places the photograph in the clean space. A dog barks in the street outside. Somebody swears at the dog.

43

Conchita waddles towards the door and puts her head through the beading.

“Hola! Conchita,” says the woman from down the street.

“Hola! Rosa,” says Conchita.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” says Rosa.

Conchita rubs the side of her face. “One day, one day,” she mutters.

“Will your son be coming for the run?” says Rosa.

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world,” says Conchita.

Rosa nods. “Tomorrow,” she says.

“Adios,” says Conchita raising her right hand though the beading.

Rosa nods and sets of down the hill.

Conchita goes back into the house. She sits down in the chair and shuts her eyes.

The bell chimes five times. Conchita opens her eyes and stares at the picture of her son on top of the television. The beads rattle and Conchita looks towards the doorway. A cat is framed in the filtered light.

“Vermin!” Conchita shouts. “Get out.

Get out.” The cat does not move. Conchita lifts herself out of the chair then retrieves the brush from the corner of the room. She swings the 44

brush at the cat. The cat does not move. She jabs the cat with the bristles. It does not move.

Conchita puts the brush back in the corner and goes into the kitchen. There is a tin of tuna in the cupboard. She places the unopened tin on the floor in front of the cat and then sits down in the chair.

The dog from next door is barking at the dog across the road. Conchita mutters something under her breath and gets up. She puts her head out of the beading.

“Shut up mongrels before I kick you in the teeth,” she shouts.

Up the street, Berto and Esteban are playing dominoes. They look up.

“Don’t speak to your son it that way,” says Esteban. Berto places a domino on the table.

Conchita goes to say something and then kicks something at her feet. Somebody has left her a bag of fruit and a tin of tuna. She picks them up and leans out of the doorway. “At least some people remember how to treat a lady,” she says waving the bag at them.

“You’re no more a lady than that bitch up there,” says Esteban pointing to the balcony above her. Conchita looks up. The little dog looks down through the bars. It barks at her.

Conchita blows sharply through her lips and 45

goes inside. She puts the fruit in the refrigerator and the can of tuna in the cupboard. Her shopping list is on the counter in front of her.

Everything is crossed off except rice. Conchita slaps her forehead and then goes into the lounge and picks her shopping bag up from the side of her chair.

Conchita does not reply to the abuse from the two men as she waddles down the street. She passes Rosa’s house and looks in the window.

Rosa is chatting with two young boys. Conchita keeps walking.

“Conchita!” a voice calls from behind her. Conchita turns around.

“These are my two grandsons, Gaspar and Pepito,” says Rosa. The two boys poke their heads out of the window and wave. “Pepito is going to take part in the bull run tomorrow.”

“Brave boy,” says Conchita.

Gaspar laughs. “He thinks it will make him a man,” he says. Pepito’s head disappears inside the house. Gaspar cries out and then his head disappears.

Rosa turns. “Boys!” she shouts. Rosa turns back to Conchita. “They never really grow up,” she says.

46

“My son was an angel,” says Conchita.

“Lucky,” says Rosa.

Conchita nods, “He’s coming tomorrow.

I’m just going to buy some rice for the paella I’m cooking for us.”

“We have plenty of rice. You can have some if you want,” says Rosa.

Conchita shakes her head. “I couldn’t,” she says turning away.

Rosa nods. “Are you sure? We really have far too much.”

Conchita does not reply.

The main road is full of people making final preparations for the fiesta. Conchita stands at the side of the road with her shopping bag. She had to buy the more expensive rice. When the road is clear she starts to cross. A scooter buzzes around the corner and dodges past her.

Conchita shouts at them and the girl on the back turns around and sticks her fingers up.

A man shouts “Mosquitoes,” from the other side of the road. Conchita waddles towards him. “Are you alright?” says the man.

Conchita nods.

“Young people these days don’t know how to treat a lady,” he says.

Conchita smiles.

“My name is Alfredo,” says the man.

47

“Are you from Madrid?” says Conchita.

“You speak very well.”

“Blanca,” says Alfredo.

“A local boy,” says Conchita.

“I was born here but moved to Madrid to attend university, so in a way you were right.”

Conchita nods. “People round here talk like they have a potato in their mouths.”

Alfredo smiles. “Can I help you with your bags?”

“My house is only in the next street,” she says.

“In the old town?” he says. “I’m staying in a hotel. So bland. I’d love to see inside one of the old houses. For the memories you know.”

“My house is very basic,” she says.

Alfredo smiles. “Probably much like my mother’s,” he says. “It’s the smell I want to remember.”

Conchita looks at her feet. “If you want,” she says.

Alfredo nods. “Very much so. That is, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

Conchita takes her purse out of the shopping back and then hands him the groceries.

48

Alfredo holds his arm out. “Shall we?” he says. Conchita smiles and hooks her arm around his.

In the house Alfredo helps to unpack the groceries.

“Would it be rude to ask for a drink?” he says.

Conchita looks at the floor. “I’m afraid I normally drink tap water.”

“Tap water will be fine,” he says.

“Quenches the thirst as good as anything else.”

Conchita pours a glass of tap water and hands it to Alfredo. Alfredo takes a sip.

“We can sit in the lounge,” says Conchita.”

Alfredo follows Conchita into the lounge. “I do like your pictures,” he says. Do you mind if I take a proper look?”

Conchita nods.

Alfredo scrutinises each picture and nods enthusiastically. Conchita sits in her chair.

He stops by the television. “A fan of the bullfighting I see?” he says pointing to the picture of Conchita’s son on top of the television.

“He is my favourite,” says Conchita.

“I always preferred Antonio Ordoñez myself,” he says.

49

Conchita smiles.

“Are you going to watch the bull run tomorrow?” he says.

“I’m cooking paella,” says Conchita.

“Ah paella,” says Alfredo. “My mother used to make the best paella, god bless her soul.”

“I make good paella,” says Conchita.

Alfredo smiles. “I’m sure it’s fantastic,” he says.

Conchita links her hands together. She is staring at her feet. “Would you… I mean…Will you join me for dinner tomorrow?”

Alfredo takes a sip of his water “I’d feel like I was imposing.”

“You wouldn’t be. Please, it would be an honour. You’ve been so kind.”

Alfredo smiles. “It would certainly beat the cooking in the hotel.”

“Three o’clock,” says Conchita. “Then we go and see the bulls.”

“It’s a deal,” he says. The church bell chimes. Alfredo looks at his watch. “I’m sorry but I must be going.” He finishes his glass of water.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” says Conchita.

“Three o’clock,” says Alfredo.

“Till then.”

50

“Adios,” says Alfredo. He waves as he brushes though the beads.

Conchita leans her head back and shuts her eyes. She is smiling.

In the morning Conchita washes the pavement outside her house. Then she walks down the hill into town with her shopping bag. The bars are playing loud music from speakers. Young people are putting cans of beer into their bags.

Conchita walks the long way to the fishmongers.

“I would like some mussels and shrimps for my paella,” she says.

The fish monger’s smile broadens.

“Conchita Ramos, buying seafood for paella?

Has hell frozen over?”

“I have a special guest.”

“You must have, my mother told me that you made good paella, that is, if you didn’t mind a plate-full of rice.”

“I have a special guest.”

“Is it the King? Is Juan Carlos I coming to your house for paella? Go on. Tell me who is so important that you’ll go out of your way to buy fresh fish.”

Conchita looks at the floor. “Can I have my food?” she says.

The fish monger smiles. “There you go,” he hands her two plastic bags. Conchita pays 51

him and then puts them into her shopping bag.

She turns towards the door. “Conchita Ramos buying fresh fish. There is hope in the world!” says the fishmonger. Conchita leaves.

Alfredo knocks on the third strike of the bell. He has a bottle of wine in each hand.

“I didn’t know if you preferred red or white so I brought a bottle of both.”

“I haven’t drunk wine in a long time,” says Conchita.

“Well it’s a special occasion isn’t it?” he says. “Do you have any glasses?”

Conchita nods, goes into the kitchen and retrieves two tumblers. Then she walks back into the lounge. Alfredo is looking at the pictures.

“I really like this landscape,” he says nodding towards the painting that he is stood in front of. “They’re all really rather good.”

“My Grandfather painted them I think,” she says.

“He had quite a talent.”

“I don’t know much about paintings,” says Conchita. She puts the glasses on the table.

Alfredo takes them. “Would you like red or white?” he says.

“I don’t know. Which do you prefer?”

“I’m a red wine person myself.”

52

“Well, you should keep that one.”

Alfredo grins. “It would be an honour to share this bottle with you.”

Conchita looks at the floor. “Thank you,” she says.

Alfredo unscrews the cap of the red and fills the two glasses. He hands one to Conchita.

“Salud!” he says holding the glass out.

“Salud!” replies Conchita. They touch glasses. Alfredo takes a gulp of wine. Conchita watches him and then drinks the same amount.

It makes her squint.

“Delicious,” says Alfredo. “This local wine is better than I remember.”

Conchita nods. “The paella is almost ready,” she says.

“Excellent,” says Alfredo. Conchita goes into the kitchen. The shrimps stare at her from her grandmother’s paella pan. She gets two plates and places them on the kitchen top. Then she takes the pan off the heat, carries it into the lounge and places it on the table.

Alfredo leans over it and inhales the steam. “This smells as good as my mother’s,” he says.

“We must wait for ten minutes, for the juices to soak in properly,” says Conchita.

“Of course,” says Alfredo.

53

Conchita nods then goes into the kitchen and gets the plates and the cutlery. Alfredo is topping up the wine. She puts the plates on the table and then sits down.

Alfredo holds up his glass. “Salud!” he says.

Conchita smiles. “Salud!” she says. They touch glasses and then drink together.

“It certainly smells delicious,” says Alfredo.

Conchita nods, “The family recipe.”

“Aha! The secret family recipe. I must get it out of you somehow,” he says. “Especially if it’s as good as it smells.”

They sit staring at the steaming paella.

Alberto looks at his watch. “May I do the honours?” he says, nodding towards the paella.

Conchita hands him her plate and he spoons on the rice and seafood. Then he serves himself. Conchita digs her fork into the paella and steam spirals into the air.

“We should say a grace,” says Alfredo.

Conchita nods.

“For what we are about to receive may the lord make us truly thankful,” says Alfredo.

“Salud!” he says lifting his glass.

54

“Salud!” says Conchita. They drink.

Alfredo shovels a forkful of paella into his mouth. He closes his eyes.

“OK?” she says.

Alfredo swallows and then exhales slowly. “Divine,” he says opening his eyes.

Conchita smiles. “Thankyou,” she says.

They eat in silence. Alfredo tops up the wine.

“So when did you leave Blanca?” she says.

“Around seventy-nine,” he says.

“For University?” Conchita takes a gulp of wine.

“Yes. In Madrid.”

“What did you study?”

“Chemistry,” he says laying the fork on the side of the plate and wiping his mouth.

“And you like pictures?”

“My dissertation was about the chemistry of pigments. I’m very interested in colour.”

“Pigments are the colour in paint?”

“That’s right,” he says. He scoops up a spoonful of paella from the pan and leans towards Conchita. “You see that the rice in this paella is yellow?”

Conchita leans forwards. “Saffron,” she says.

55

“That’s correct.” Well they use the pigment in saffron to make yellow dyes and paints. They make it from the stigma of crocuses.”

“Stigma?”

“It’s part of the female reproductive organs of the flower.”

“So the flower cannot have babies?”

“It can’t be pollinated, no.”

Conchita picked up her fork and moved the paella around on her plate. “That’s very sad,” she said.

“It’s only a flower,” he says spooning the paella onto his plate. “Do you want more?”

Conchita shakes her head. “I’m not hungry,” she says.

“Do you mind if I finish it? It’s very delicious.”

“No.” Conchita shakes her head. “No.” Alfredo empties the rest of the paella onto his plate. He picks up the wine bottle.

“More wine?” he says.

Conchita nods.

Alfredo tops up the wine and catches sight of his watch. “It’s already quarter to five,” he says. “We better be quick or we’ll miss the bulls.”

56

Conchita finishes her wine then levers herself up with the table. Alfredo drinks his wine and then stands. Alfredo steps through the beads and Conchita follows. Alfredo offers his arm.

“Thank you,” says Conchita. “That wine’s gone to my head a little.”

“My pleasure madam,” says Alfredo.

Conchita giggles and they walk together down towards town.

“Can you see anything?” says Conchita.

Alfredo has climbed up amongst the people who are sat on the barriers.

“Just about,” he calls down. “Hang on, here they come.”

Conchita pushes her head between two bodies. She sees a flash of people running by then a glimpse of the bulls. “I see them,” she says looking up at Alfredo.

“There’s more,” he shouts. Conchita pushes her head back into the crowd. She sees one of the runners slip. The crowd gasps and then Esteban jumps down and pulls the boy against the wall before he is trampled. Conchita recognises the boy as Rosa’s grandson. Esteban receives a cheer from the crowd as he pushes the boy between the barriers. He bows and then somebody shouts that there are more bulls on 57

the way. He leaps up the barriers. The bulls pass.

“I think that’s it,” says Alfredo climbing down.

“It goes so fast,” says Conchita.

“It does indeed,” he says.

Rosa’s grandson is sitting on the barriers panting.

Esteban climbs down and pats him on the back. “Close call there, Pepito.”

Pepito’s brother runs up and takes a photo of Pepito with a Polaroid camera. He pulls out the photo and waves it in the air shouting, “Now I have the first picture of my brother since he has become a man.” He laughs and shakes the photo in Pepito’s face.

Pepito stands up. “Come here and say that Gaspar. You little cockroach,” Alfredo puts his arm between the boys.

“May I ask you to take a photo of me and this lovely lady?” He says nodding towards Conchita.

Gaspar says, “Polaroids are very expensive.”

Alfredo smiles. “An entrepreneur in the making,” he says. “How about if I give you ten Euros?”

“That’ll buy you another ten photos,” says Pepito. Gaspar agrees and arranges 58

Conchita and Alfredo with their arms around each other.

“Say cheese,” he says in English.

Alfredo and Conchita smile and the camera flashes. Gaspar pulls the photo out of the bottom of the camera and hands it to Alfredo.

Alfredo turns to Conchita. “This is for you,” he says. “As a memory of today.”

“That is very kind,” says Conchita. She watches as the picture appears. “Like magic,” she says under her breath.

“Let’s have a look,” says Gaspar.

Conchita holds the picture out for Gaspar to see.

“It’s a good photo,” he says. Conchita nods. “Can I show Grandma?” Conchita nods.

“Granny, look.”

Rosa comes over. “Very good, Gaspar,” she says, “we obviously have an artist in the family.”

“Did you enjoy the run?” says Conchita.

“Up until the point where Pepito nearly got trampled,” says Rosa.

“I saw,” says Conchita. “Boys will be boys.”

“They will. He asked me if it still meant he was a man. Even though he’d fallen. I told him he was definitely a man.” Rosa ran her hand through her hair. “I couldn’t bear to go through all that again.”

59

“What about the other one?” says Conchita.

“I think I’ll try and steer him towards the photography.”

“He’s got quite a talent,” says Conchita looking at the photograph.

“Mainly enthusiasm at the moment but enthusiasm goes a long way.”

Conchita nods. The crowd is thinning.

She glances about for Alfredo. “Have you seen Alfredo?” she asks.

“I saw him nipping off somewhere,” says Rosa. “He said he’d be back in a bit.”

“We drank a lot of wine,” says Conchita.

Rosa nods. “We’re having paella later.

You’re very welcome.”

Conchita shakes her head. “We just ate.” ”I understand,” says Rosa. “Well, if you change your mind.”

“Thankyou,” says Conchita. Rosa calls to the boys that supper is ready. Pepito is getting Gaspar to feel how strong his muscles are.

Conchita smiles. She looks around once more and then waddles back up the hill to her house.

Conchita steps through the bead curtain. She smiles. She picks up the paella dish and puts it in the kitchen then she sits down in her chair and looks at the picture of her son on top of the 60

television. Grandpa’s pictures have gone. The lounge walls will need repainting. Conchita stands up and walks over to the TV. She picks up the photo of her son and sits down at the table. She undoes the frame and takes the picture out. She holds the photo to her breast then she kisses it. Conchita tears the photo in half. She inserts the Polaroid into the frame reattaches the back and replaces the frame on top of the television set. Conchita sits down in her chair, leans her head back and closes her eyes. She is smiling.

61

Yawna’s Tale (For Tanya Lawes)

Yawna rides the donkey as if it were a unicorn.

Kubik holds the reins, leading his princess across the sand. He glances up at her and smiles.

She looks down and the stern expression falls from her face, showering him like confetti. The beach, the cliffs, the ocean are all reflected in the cerulean mirror of her eyes. He winks at her and she lowers her eyes and runs her hand through donkey’s mane. Kubik looks out over the millpond to their right. Gulls alight from the water, their take-off accentuated by tiny rainbows as sunlight is refracted in the splashing brine. The gulls spread their wings and drift over the water’s surface then ascend in the thermals rising before the cliffs, circling and cawing until they gain enough altitude and drift out over the sea.

“What do you think we will find?” she says.

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Kubik looks up at her and shrugs, then turns his gaze towards the low rocks in the distance.

“Will we find a fallen star?” she says.

“Perhaps,” he replies. The first gust of wind of wind stirs the sand at their feet into a lazy vortex that disappears almost as soon as it has started.

“Will it always be this way?” she says.

Kubik nods. “The forecast is good.”

Yawna nods.

He looks up at her. “You meant the weather?”

Yawna turns her head towards white buildings that line the seafront. “Yes,” she says.

“The forecast is good,” he says.

Yawna nods. The donkey makes a small sound and leans forwards and strokes the top of his head. “Shall we get ice cream?” she says.

“Now?” “No now,” she says.

“Then it will be time for supper,” says Kubik.

“Fish then?”

“I saw a stall back there,” he says.

“And chipped potatoes?”

“Yes,” he says.

“I would like ice cream,” she says.

“Now?” 66

“Yes,” she says. “If we are to eat fish later.”

Kubik stops.

“What is it?” she says.

Kubik reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few coins. He counts then in his hand. She watches him from the donkey.

Kubik looks up. “I should have enough for both,” he says.

“I didn’t expect you to pay,” she says.

Kubik smiles. “It is our day but my treat,” he says.

Yawna nods. “Thank you,” she says.

Kubik holds his hand up to shield his eyes and scans the seafront. “I don’t know where sells ice cream,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter then,” “I will go and find somewhere,” he says.

“I shall come,” she says.

“No,” he says.

“But it is our day,” “And my treat,” he says. “You wait here, I shan’t be long.”

Yawna nods. “Help me down,” she says. “In case the donkey bolts.”

Kubik holds up his hand and she takes it and lowers herself from her steed.

“I won’t be long,” he says.

67

“Yes,” she says, curling her toes in the sand.

He stands there looking at her. She smiles.

“See you in a bit,” he says.

She nods.

Kubik hands her the donkey’s reins then turns and sets off across the sand. The donkey turns and watches Kubik walk away.

Yawna pats him on the nose. “Just me and you now,” she says. The donkey looks at her. Yawna smiles at him and runs her hand along the length of his ear. The donkey makes a noise like a sigh and then lowers himself into a sitting position.

Yawna wraps her cardigan around herself and looks back at Kubik.

“Will it always be this way?” she says.

She looks into the donkey’s brown eyes. He blinks.

“Maybe not,” she says. Yawna presses the sand flat with her foot and then sits down.

“Dyevushka adin,” she says. “Do you know what that means?”

The donkey nuzzles the sand.

“He has always been here but not here.

Sometimes I just wish…” she looks over her shoulder. “I don’t know. He could just be 68

more…” She pushes her feet under the sand.

“Do you understand?”

The donkey stares at her.

“Yeah,” she says.

Yawna runs her hand through the sand, pushing it into a pile. She pats it down and then drops more sand on top of it. The donkey snorts.

Yawna raises herself to her knees and pushes more and onto the mound and pats it down. She searches the ground around her for a shell.

There is one by the donkey’s foot.

“Will you pass me that?” she says.

The donkey looks at her.

“Please?”

The donkey snorts, covering the shell in sand. Yawna leans across and picks up the shell.

She dusts it off and then places it on top of the mound. She sits and looks at it for a moment and then squeezes some of the sand between her palms until it is rises like a wall. She builds the wall around the mound. She sits and stares at it and then reaches into the circle and pats two straight edges into the mound so that it is shaped like a triangle with a rounded side.

Yawna places her finger on the rounded edge and then pushes it into the sand and pulls out a triangular wedge. She smoothes the sand into two arcs that meet in the middle of that edge so 69

that the mound is shaped like a valentine’s heart.

Yawna turns to the donkey. “This is him,” she says pointing to the heart surrounded by the wall. “He has a heart but he keeps it hidden.”

The donkey blinks.

Yawna curls her hand into a fist. “And this is what I want to do to his heart,” her hand hovers above the mound.

The donkey looks towards the sea front.

Yawna brings her hand down and smashes away part of the wall. She looks at the donkey and laughs. “I want to set his heart free,” she says. Yawna flattens the remaining part of the wall with her hand.

“Yawna,” says a voice.

She turns. Kubik is standing next to the donkey. He has an ice cream in his hand.

“Kubik,” she says.

He holds out the cone. “Here is your ice cream,” he says.

Yawna dusts off her hands and then takes the cone. “Thank you,” she says. She tastes the ice cream and then smiles. “Delicious,” she says. “Where is yours?”

“It was melting,” he says. “I had to eat it.”

“My seems ok,” she says.

70

“It was different. Mr Whippy.” Kubik looks at the sand.

Yawna licks the ice cream. “You didn’t get one,” she says.

“I...”

“You didn’t want one?”

Kubik puts his hands into his pockets.

“Yawna…”

She looks at his feet. Then slowly works her way up his body until she reaches his bowed head. “You didn’t have enough money.”

He looks at her.

“Oh, Kubik,” she says.

“Not if we are to eat fish for supper,” he says.

Yawna looks at her feet. She wiggles her toes in the sand. “You want some?” she says.

“It is for you.”

“Then it is mine to share,” she says.

Yawna pats the sand next to her. “Sit,” she says.

Kubik pulls up his trousers and lowers himself onto the sand.

Yawna smiles and holds out the cone.

“Here,” she says.

Kubik leans forwards and puts his nose above the cone. He closes his eyes as he inhales.

Yawna smiles.

“It smells good,” he says, “Taste it,” she says.

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Kubik looks at her.

Yawna winks at him.

Kubik looks at the ice cream.

“Taste it,” she says.

Kubik takes the cone between his forefinger and thumb. He smells the ice cream again then looks at her. “Are you sure?” he says.

Yawna nods. “It’s coffee,” she says.

“I know,” “Well?”

Kubik holds out the ice cream. “I can’t,” he says. “It’s yours.” Yawna takes a handful of sand and lets it run out between her fingers.

Kubik stands holding the donkey’s reins as Yawna climbs up onto the rocks.

“Be careful,” he says. “There is seaweed.”

Yawna looks over her shoulder.

“Seaweed?” she says raising her eyebrows.

“On the rocks,” he says. “You might slip.”

“Might I?” says Yawna.

Kubik nods.

Tawna shakes her head and then continues to climb on the rocks. Kubik stands watching.

“Are you coming?” she shouts.

“What about the donkey?”

72

“Leave the donkey. Get him to wait there. He is a good donkey.”

Kubik looks at the donkey.

The donkey blinks.

“Are you a good donkey?” he says.

The donkey snorts.

Kubik pats the donkey on the head and lets go of t he reins. “Will you wait here?” he says.

The donkey turns his head to look at the sea.

Kubik kneels and then rolls his trouser leg up. He looks at the rocks, shakes his head and then rolls up his other trouser leg. He stands and walks over to the rock, places his hand on top of it and then lifts his foot into a crack. Kubik pulls himself over the rock.

“Come on,” says Yawna. She is crouching over a rock pool. “Look there are things living here.”

“It is a rock pool,” he says. “Of course there are things there.” He lowers himself onto his haunches at the other side of the pool and stares into the water. “I cannot see anything,” he says.

Yawna does not take her eyes from the pool. “You have to be patient,” she says.

73

Kubik sighs.

“This is fun,” she says.

Kubik stands up and puts his hands in his pockets. He turns and walks away from the pool.

“Look,” she says.

Kubik turns. Yawna plunges her arm into the water.

“What are you doing,” he says.

“There is a crab.”

Kubik steps forwards and looks into the pool. “I cannot see anything,” he says.

Yawna draws her arm out of the water.

As her hand emerges Kubik sees that it is holding something. The crab snaps its pincers and wiggles it legs.

“Quick,” she says.

“What?” says Kubik.

Yawna places the crab on the rock, he snaps his pincers and then runs back towards the pool. “No you don’t,” she says placing her forefinger on the crab’s back, squashing him flat.

“It will hurt if he catches you with those pincers,” he says.

“Look at him,” she says.

Kubik walks around the side of Yawna and crouches down. “He is mighty,” he says.

Yawna takes her finger from the crab’s back. He stands and dashes in the direction of 74

the rock pool, enters the water with a plip. They watch as their reflections reform in the pool beneath them. Young, remembered faces look up from the pool.

Yawna puts her hand on top of Kubik’s hand. She turns to him. “Where has the time gone?” she says.

Kubik frowns. “Today?”

“Our lives,” she says.

“Please Yawna.”

“When you brought me here last, there was a war. Men died for their country. For this land.”

“This land is our home,” he says.

“But it is not where we were born.”

“Home is where you…belong.”

Yawna frowns. “You think we belong here? You feel like this is our home?”

Kubik nods.

“Do you know what I think?” she says.

“I have always wished that I could read your mind.”

“Home is where you stop trying,” she says.

“Do you think that I do not try?”

“You haven’t tried in years.”

“I bought you an ice cream,” he says.

“When did you put a wall around your heart,” she says.

75

Kubik stares into the water.

Yawna sighs and gets to her feet. In the distance there is the humming of motor engine.

Kubik frowns and then stands quickly and raises his hand to shield his eyes. “A Lavochkin,” he says. He looks at Yawna. “That is a Lavochkin, more than one.”

Yawna frowns.

“Look,” he says pointing at three dots on the horizon.

“Planes,” she says.

“Fighters,” he says.

“Here?”

“Yes. They are here.” Yawna and Kubik watch the three planes pass overhead, propellers humming. Kubik waves.

“Do you think they can see us?”

“I don’t know.”

Kubik waves again, continues to wave as the planes clear the tops of the houses and disappear from sight. “They are here,” he says.

Yawna looks down into the pool. The crab watches her from behind a curtain of seaweed. “Would you go back?”

Kubik looks at her. “Of course.”

“Did you want to go back? All these years, have you wished you were somewhere else?”

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Kubik takes her hand. She looks up at him. “I was with you,” he says.

Yawna smiles at him and he lowers his eyes.

“Kubik,” she says.

He looks up at her.

“Thank you for a good day.”

Kubik nods.

“I love you,” she says.

77

Snowmen

“Tomorrow I’ll be gone,” she said.

I nodded. “What’s the place called again?” I said.

“Iceland.”

“No. I mean the town?”

“Oh.” She traced her finger along the patterns on the duvet. Her finger stopped at the point where she had started.

“Will you send me a postcard?” I said She smiled “Of course I’ll send you a postcard.”

I leant forwards and kissed her. I wanted to say that I’d miss her but the words stuck in my throat. It was too early to care but too late to not care.

“Will you miss me?” she said.

I stood up, untied my shoelaces and took my shoes off. Then I sat down cross-legged on the bed. “I’ll think about you a lot but my life will carry on.”

She frowned.

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“I mean, my heart isn’t going to stop beating.”

“I need to put you in a big freezer until I get back.”

“Like a mammoth?”

She nodded.

“I could do with a long sleep,” I patted the top of duvet.

“You can’t be tired?” she said. “We’ve only been up an hour.”

I shook my head. “I’m not,” I said. I reached forwards and touched the top of her hand. “You’d have to remember to defrost me. I couldn’t bear to wake up in the year three thousand to find all my friends and family dead.”

“I think I’d remember.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I might get frozen inside a glacier whilst I’m away.”

“Well, you have to promise to come and find me when you’ve thawed out.”

She shuffled round and rested her head on my thigh. “We might sleep through the end of the world,” she said.

“It will make it a lot easier to find me.”

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“We could repopulate the earth together, think of all the sex that would be needed to do that.”

“I like sex,” I said.

Panya raised herself up and kissed me on the lips. “I know you like sex,” she said.

“It’s not going to be easy to get to back from Iceland after the end of the world.”

“Will there be planes?”

“You don’t know how to fly a plane.”

“Boats?”

“I guess.”

Panya rolled over so that she was staring at the ceiling. “I’ll take a boat then.”

“Most of them will be out of commission,” “What?”

“Broken,” “Oh.” “You might have to row,” “I suppose after a thousand years asleep in the ice I’d probably need the exercise.”

“Probably,” I said.

Panya smiled then reached out and took my hand in hers. “That’s ridiculous,” she said.

“Romantic,” I said.

She smiled, “Yeah. Who said romance is dead?”

83

“The Earth will be like the frozen heart of a snowman floating about in space.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Hear me out. When a snowman’s heart melts, all the molecules of water that made it up flow back into the earth. Now, because love only exists between things, the snowman’s heart can’t love again until those water molecules come back together. That’s like you rowing from Iceland” “Love exists between things?”

“Of course it does.”

She sat up. “Where do you get this stuff from?”

“My brain?”

“Normal brains don’t think about a snowman’s heart.”

“My brain isn’t normal.”

Panya retraced the pattern of the duvet.

“Seriously though,” she said, “will you wait for me?”

“I’m not going to wait. Your life will move forwards and my life will move forwards.

I hope that when you get back you won’t have changed so much that we can’t be together. You might meet the love of your life in Iceland.” I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them. I don’t want to stop anything like that from happening.”

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“Wouldn’t you be upset though, I mean, if I didn’t come back or if I did come back with some guy?”

“I can’t say it wouldn’t hurt but, you know, it’d be worse if...”

“If I didn’t tell you?”

“If I spent all the time you were away pining after you and looking forward to seeing you and then you turned up with some Icelandic beefcake.”

“That’s not the kind of man I go for.”

“You know what I mean.”

Panya grinned. “You’re so emotionally practical,” she said.

“It’s like giving up smoking,” I said.

“What now?” she said.

I looked at her.

She grinned.

“When you give up smoking,” I said, “all you can do is think about having a cigarette.

When you just kind of stop then you don’t think about smoking all the time.”

“So you’re just going to stop thinking about me?”

“If I can,” “But you still smoke.”

“I forgot why I quit,” I said.

85

Panya gripped one of the wrinkles in the duvet and chewed her bottom lip. Then she looked at me and said, “You’ve made me want a cigarette.”

“I don’t have any,” I said.

“Me neither.” Panya stood up walked over to her desk, opened the drawer and pulled out a ten pound note. “Be a love.” she said.

I shook my head. “You’re the one who wants a cigarette.”

“Yeah but you said you wanted to go to the shop for me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did. You said, “Seeing it’s your last night in England, Panya, I’ll go to the shop and buy you some cigarettes.””

“I’m not going.”

“But you promised.”

“I’m not going.”

Panya blew a short breath between her lips then she walked over to the bed, put her hands on my knees and kissed me on the cheek.

“Please?” she said making puppy dog eyes.

“I’m not going.”

“I’ll pay you in sex.”

“It’s our last night together, I kind of guessed that we might do that anyway,” I leaned forwards to kiss her.

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Panya stood up, “How romantic,” she said.

“I had plans,” I said.

Panya smiled. “What plans?” she said.

“I’m not telling.”

“Please.”

“No.” “Pretty please,” “I was waiting for you to go out.”

“Did you hide my cigarettes?”

“No, you smoked them all last night.”

“What’s the plan, Stan?”

“Nothing if you call me Stan.”

Panya put on her husky phone-sex voice. “Would you prefer that I called you Stanley?” she said.

“Be off with you,” I said pointing at the door.

Panya kissed me on the lips. “How long do I need to spend getting cigarettes?”

“I imagine that getting cigarettes should take you about half an hour.”

Panya smiled and kissed me. “See you in twenty minutes,” she said. She winked at me as she left the room.

“Half an hour,” I shouted after her. The door to the flat slammed shut.

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I got up and went into the kitchen, put the kettle on and then went back into Panya’s room. The yellow carrier bag was still in the corner. I opened it and looked inside then I took each item out and distributed them around the room. Finally I pinned a photograph of Panya and myself to the head of the bed. Then I went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

The last clean mug had a picture of Santa Clause on it and played Jingle Bells whenever you lifted it up. I took a sip from the mug and then went into Panya’s room, sat down on the bed and sipped at my coffee. A man in the street was shouting at somebody. I finished my coffee and put the mug on the bedside table then I stood up and looked out of the window. I couldn’t see the man. On Panya’s desk was a pile of New Scientist magazines. I picked up the top one and lay down on the bed. There was a knock at the door.

“Panya?”

“She’s gone out, Apple,” I said dropping the New Scientist to my side. The door opened.

“Panya?” Panya’s flatmate peered around the door. ”Oh… Hey. Where’s Panya?”

“She’s gone out to buy some cigarettes.”

“I wish she’d quit.”

“She’ll be back soon.”

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“Oh.” “Do you want me to pass on a message?”

“No. I just wanted to know why she’s on TV.” “TV?” “Yeah, she’s making a snowman,” A strand of hair fell across Apple’s face. She brushed it behind her right ear. “Look,” she said, pointing into the corridor. The strand of hair fell out from behind her ear.

I sat up, climbed off the bed and followed Apple down the corridor. She held the door open for me and I walked past her into her bedroom.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said.

“You should see my room,” I said.

Apple pointed at the screen. The picture was coloured green, as if it was viewed through night-vision goggles. All the people had bright white eyes and were smiling and running about in the snow. A boy in Wellington boots and a ski jacket was throwing snowballs at the back of somebody who was busy building a snowman.

The person turned, bent down, scooped up a handful of snow and began pelting the boy with snowballs. The camera caught the boy’s panicked expression as he turned to flee and then focussed on the laughing face of his 89

assailant. Panya waved and then threw a snowball towards the camera. The screen burst into static snow.

Apple knelt down and switched the TV off. “See?” she said, turning to look at me over her shoulder.

“Strange,” I said.

“Do you know anything about it?”

I shook my head. “I’ll ask her when she gets back.”

Apple nodded.

I left the room, went back into Panya’s room and sat down on the bed. The copy of New Scientist lay next to me. I opened it. There was a noise in the hallway. I got up and opened the bedroom door. Down the hallway, Apple’s head appeared around the kitchen door.

“Is she back yet?” I said.

Apple shook her head. I went back into the bedroom and sat down. I picked up the New Scientist and looked at the cover then I stood up and put it back on top of the pile. I looked at the door and then looked back down at the pile of magazines. I took the top issue off and put it to one side. I put the next issue on top of this and the one below it on top of this. The next issue had a special article about 90

wormholes another had “The Reality of Resurrection” written in cartoon writing across the front. It was accompanied by a still from Village of the Damned. I selected these copies from the pile and sat back down on the bed.

I finished the article about zombies and put the magazine down. Panya had been gone for two hours. I got up, went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I heard Apple’s door open. I put three teaspoons of coffee into the Santa mug and then added three teaspoons of sugar.

“Panya not back yet?” said Apple. She was leaning against the doorframe.

I shook my head.

“Do you want to come and watch some TV until she gets back?” she said. The kettle flicked off and I poured the water into my mug.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” I said.

Apple shook her head. “Not if you’re making it. It would give me a heart attack.”

“It’s not that strong,” I said.

“I can smell it from here.”

“Coffee smells strong.” I said. I picked up the mug and took a sip. Jingle Bells began to play.

Apple giggled. “I hate that mug,” she said. “Couldn’t you have found a different one?”

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“It was the only one that was clean.”

“What about washing something up?” said Apple rolling her eyes. “Boys!” she said.

“I’m not the one who left all the dirty mugs in the sink.”

“Well it wasn’t me,” she said.

“Blame it on the absentee,” I said.

“Now we have to put up with Jingle Bells.”

“It’s not that far from Christmas,” “It’s not even September yet.”

“Yeah, as I said, not long to go now. Are you excited?”

“Shut up.”

“I hope you’ve done all your shopping.”

Apple put her hands on her hips. “Is it you who’s responsible for the shops selling Christmas Calendars in October?”

“No I’m the one who invented Father’s day and is lobbying for two Easter’s a year.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad. I like chocolate,” she said. I took another sip of my coffee.

“TV?” said Apple.

I nodded and then followed her into her room.

“Sit down,” she said gesturing to the bed. I picked my way through the detritus on 92

the floor and perched on the end of the bed.

Apple flopped down beside me and began rummaging around beneath her pillow.

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” she muttered.

“What?” I said.

She didn’t answer. I took another sip of my coffee. Apple picked up the pillows and threw them onto the floor. Then she started fishing about down the back of the bed.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“I keep the remote for the TV under my pillow so that I don’t have to move in the morning. Clever huh?” Apple had her face pressed against the duvet so her voice was muffled. I looked at the TV. The remote was sitting on top of it. I got up and retrieved it.

“Found it!” I said waving the remote in front of her face. Apple pulled her arm from the gap behind the bed; in her hand was a stuffed dog. It looked like it had had a close scrape with a waste disposal unit.

“This is Bloop,” she said holding the dusty toy in my face. “I’ve been wondering where he’d got to.”

“Hi Bloop,” I said. “Have you been getting up to mischief?”

“He wouldn’t do that! Bloop’s a good dog.”

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“Look at his face,” I said, “he’s definitely been up to something.”

“HE HASN’T BEEN UP TO ANYTHING!” she shouted, hugging the dusty toy to her face.

“Sorry,” I said.

Apple snatched the remote up and turned on the TV. She flicked through the channels until she finally settled on a cookery programme. I sighed.

“Don’t you like cookery programmes?”

“I don’t really watch TV.” “You said you wanted to watch TV. You didn’t have to watch TV.” “I don’t mind watching TV.” “You just said that you didn’t like watching TV.” “No, I said that I don’t really watch TV.” “Well you wouldn’t do if you didn’t like it.”

“I guess I just think it’s a bit of a waste of time,” I said.

“Well let’s do something else then,” she said switching the off TV. I took a sip of coffee. “Do you think that chefs enjoy their own cooking?” I said.

Apple looked at me as if I’d set her dog on fire. “You what?”

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“Never mind,” I said and took another sip of coffee. It was cold. Apple was looking at me and then whispering to her dog. I tried not to look at her. She burst into a fit of giggles.

“What?” I said.

“I tell Bloop everything.”

“What were you telling him then?”

“It’s a secret. I tell Bloop all my secrets.”

“Do you think he remembers them?”

“Of course he does!”

“I mean, he looks pretty old. Sometimes people’s memories get a bit unreliable when they’re getting on.”

“Do I look old?” she said.

I shrugged.

“Well Bloop’s as old as I am,” she said pointing at one of the photographs pinned to her wall.

“Is that you?”

“That’s me and that’s Bloop,” she said pointing to a small patch of brown beside of the baby in the photo.

“Is that you as well?” I said pointing to the next photo along.

“That’s me on my first birthday,” she said. This baby had more hair and fit into its skin.

“So these are all pictures of you?”

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“Um huh. Taken on my birthday each year.” There were twenty-four pictures in total.

Each one showed a slightly more developed Apple grinning and holding her toy dog.

Between eleven and fifteen she had worn braces and big glasses. In the Sixteenth picture, Apple was exactly the same shape except her hips were twice as large. She was leaning against a fence.

There was an emu behind it. By her eighteenth birthday, she looked the same as she did now, except younger.

“You used to wear glasses?” I said.

“Yeah my mum and dad paid for me to have laser eye treatment when I was seventeen.”

“Does that mean you can fire lasers out of your eyes?”

She giggled. “No silly.”

I glanced over the sequence of photos again. I wanted to make it into a flick book.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Um huh,” she said looking down at the duvet and gripping her lower lip with her upper row of teeth.

“Why do you have lots of pictures of you on your wall?”

Apple shrugged.

“I mean, it’s actually pretty cool, but most people are embarrassed about what they looked like when they were younger.”

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“I wasn’t much of a looker was I?” “You were alright.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“I mean…”

“I wasn’t. You don’t have to say that I was, because I wasn’t. I used to get picked on at school because of the way I looked and I didn’t even start to grow these,” she cupped her breasts, “until I was like sixteen or something.”

“Yeah you can see that,” I said pointing at the picture of her at seventeen.

“When my body eventually started to change all the girls were like “So Apple’s finally got her period then,” so it didn’t get any better.”

“But you’re really pretty now,” I said.

Apple shrugged. “One night I told Bloop that if I didn’t get any prettier then I wouldn’t be able to live in this body anymore.”

“Shooting yourself in the face is quite an extreme form of cosmetic surgery,” I said.

Apple stared at me. “I gave myself until my eighteenth birthday. If I still looked same then I was going to throw myself into a volcano.”

I nodded. Apple was staring at the duvet.

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“I told my parents that I’d always wanted to go to Iceland and they said they’d buy me the flights for my birthday. They didn’t know I was going there to die.”

“Panya’s going to Iceland.”

She half nodded but stopped looking down at the duvet. “I knew that if I threw myself into a volcano then my body would disappear forever.” A teardrop fell from her chin onto the bed. “I was going to go on a trip to see a volcano and just wander off. I wanted my parents to think that it had been an accident.”

I looked at the wet patch on the duvet.

“You’re not joking are you?”

Apple shook her head.

“So how come…”

“Bloop saved me. He made my wish come true. I don’t think he was ready to die,” she sat staring at the duvet.

A tear dripped from her chin. I leant forward and put my cheek against hers. One of her tears ran down my face. “I’m glad you didn’t kill yourself,” I whispered.

Apple nodded. “I keep those photos to remind myself that I wasn’t always this pretty girl. I mean, when I look in the mirror, it’s not really me you know? Inside, I’m the girl in the pictures, the ugly girl.”

“Wouldn’t you rather forget?” I said.

98

Apple turned her head away. For a moment the skin of her cheek pulled at mine then they separated. “I don’t want to end up like everyone else,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“With a heart of ice.”

I sat back and wiped Apple’s tear from my cheek. “Snowmen have hearts of ice,” I said.

“When their hearts melt they stop being able to love.”

“That’s really sad,” said Apple. She leaned forward. I could feel her breath on my cheek. I turned my face and kissed her lips.

Apple touched my cheek with her palm. I pulled away.

“It’s OK,” she said.

“Panya,” I said.

“No, Not Panya. Apple for now. I promised.” She kissed me on the lips.

“I don’t understand,” “I promised Panya.

I looked at her “Promised Panya what?”

“Promised Panya.”

“What?” I said.

Apple looked away. Her hand was still on my cheek. “It’s just until she gets back from Iceland.”

“I don’t understand.”

99

Apples hand dropped to her side.

“Those girls at school froze my heart,” she said.

“But Bloop saved you.”

Apple squeezed my fingertips. “Bloop saved my life but he couldn’t save my heart.”

“Why?” I said.

“It melted. Just like the heart of your snowman,” she said. “I don’t know how to love any more. There is no feeling in here,” Apple lifted my hand and held it against the centre of her chest. “I promised Panya that I would take care of you until she got back.”

I pulled my hand out of her grip.

“Where’s Panya?”

“She’s gone.”

“To Iceland?”

Apple nodded.

“But her stuff’s still in her room.”

“She came in and got it whilst you’ve been with me.”

“So it was all planned?”

Apple nodded. “Clever huh?”

I looked at the door. “What about your story?”

“I couldn’t lie about something like that.”

“And the thing on the TV?” “I don’t know,” 100

“What?”

“Honestly, I really don’t know,” she said. Apple put her hands between her knees and squeezed them together. “Are you angry?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you love Panya?”

“I don’t know.”

Apple bit her lip. “I don’t get it.”

“All I know is that I have to let her go.

We’ll either stay together or we wouldn’t. It’s how it goes.”

“Isn’t love worth more than that?” said Apple.

“I don’t know,” “But you’ve spent the last year of your life with her.”

I shrugged.

“Do you like her?”

“Of course I like her. She’s a good…”

“Friend? You were going to say friend weren’t you?”

I nodded “How can you be with someone if you don’t love them?”

“She’s not the girl of my dreams,” “But nobody finds that person. I’d be married to a stuffed dog if that were the case.”

“I’ve thought that I’ve found the girl of my dreams.”

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“Panya?”

I shook my head. “Someone else,” I said.

“She hurt me.”

Apple leaned forwards. “But that’s just one person.”

“I’ve fallen in love so many times…”

“Most people don’t even get one chance.

Take me for example,” she said.

“And every time it’s got fucked up.”

Apple squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You don’t understand. You don’t have a heart.”

Apple let go of my hand. “I may not have a heart but I do have a brain. I can empathise.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“So what about Panya?”

“It’s not love.”

Apple lifted my chin so that I was looking into her eyes. “So you’re just with Panya because it’s easy? You’re with Panya so that you don’t have to try every night to get some floozy to come to bed with you. It’s just about sex.”

“No,” I said. I looked at the wall. “It’s about comfort,” I said. “I’ve stopped looking for love.”

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Apple let go of my chin. My head dropped forwards.

“Comfort?” she said.

“Like you and Bloop.”

“It nothing like me and Bloop.”

“It is. If Bloop’s there then every bit of you heart is in the right place.”

“My heart is dead,” “No, Apple, it’s not. My heart is dead.

You still believe in love. I’m only interested in comfort.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is. You still believe in this amazing thing. As long as I’ve got somebody, anybody by my side then I’m happy. I don’t have to love them, I don’t really have to like them.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Exactly. Your heart isn’t dead, Apple, you just can’t feel it because it doesn’t hurt.”

Apple straightened slightly. “Really?”

“Really,” I say.

“So I can still love?”

“Of course you can.”

Apple stared at the duvet. There was a gap between her lips. “Thank you,” she said.

“What for?”

She looked up. “You fixed my heart.”

“I didn’t do anything,” 103

“You did. You fixed my heart. Like a surgeon.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“And I love you.”

“Because I fixed your heart?”

“Because I’ve always loved you.”

“Apple.”

“When Panya asked me to look after you I felt really weird about it.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“No I mean, kind of excited,” she looked down at the duvet. “I didn’t know what it was then but now I know it was love. It is love. I love you.”

I looked at the door. “Why? I’m nothing.

Why me?”

“You’re everything,” she said. “You’re everything to me.”

I ran my hand through my hair.

“Everybody needs somebody,” she said.

“Like the Blues Brothers?” I said.

Apple nodded.

“I don’t know.”

“Even if it’s just comforting for you at the start.”

“Don’t.”

104

Apple leaned forwards and kissed me on the cheek. “I love you,” she said. “All I ask is for you to give us a chance.”

I looked at her. She smiled at me then leaned forwards and kissed me on the corner of my lips.

“Leave me alone Apple,” I said.

“But…” “Leave me alone.” I said standing up.

“I’m going. You’ll never see me again. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“But I love you,” she said. Her cheeks flushed red and a tear ran down her cheek. She looked beautiful. I stood up and left the room.

105

A Dead Horse

The man placed the pack of sausages, the loaf of bread and the can of shaving foam onto the counter. He smiled.

“How’s it going today?” he said.

Fran smiled. “Not bad, Burt,” she said tapping the prices into the till. “Not bad at all.”

“Steve,” said the man. “My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Sorry Steve,” said Fran, separating a plastic bag from the pile under the counter and placing the three items inside.

“That’s OK,” said Steve.

“That’ll be four sixty-eight,” said Fran.

Steve pulled a five-dollar note from his wallet. “Keep the change,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye Steve,” said Fran. The bell tinkled as Steve left the shop. Fran looked at her watch.

It was four thirty-two.

“There’s this guy who comes in the store,” said Fran. James nodded. “He started

109

coming in about a month ago and he always buys the same things.”

“I guess some people have a routine,” said James.

“He always uses a different name,” said Fran. James nodded and closed the magazine.

Fran brushed a strand of hair from out of her face. “He comes in every single day, buys the same three items and when I use his name he tells me that it’s something else.”

“You should stop using his name then,” said James. “He’s probably messing with you.”

“I tried that for a while.”

“Did it work?”

“It was one of those things that made the day more interesting.”

“Then why complain about it?”

“I’m not. It’s just weird I guess,” Fran slumped back into the sofa and crossed her arms.

“I love you,” said James touching her knee.

Fran took his hand in hers and smiled at him. “You’ve never said that to me before,” she said.

“I haven’t?”

“No.” James turned to look out of the window.

“I thought I had,” he said.

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Fran lent forwards and kissed his cheek.

“It’s nice,” she said.

“Is it?”

“Of course it’s nice,” she said.

James nodded and then turned back from the window and looked her in the eye.

“Does that guy worry you?” he.

“You always worry me,” she said. James looked downwards. Fran squeezed his hand and then leaned forwards and kissed his cheek.

Fran could not fit the last box of tampons onto the shelf. She picked up the wholesale packaging from the floor and carried it and the spare box into the stockroom. Fran threw the plastic into the bin and then put the pack of tampons into her bag. When she went back into the store Steve was stood staring into the refrigerated cabinet at the sausages.

“Hi Steve,” she said. Steve turned and nodded at her. Then he turned back to the sausages. Fran walked back along the middle aisle of the store. A box of cornflakes had been discarded amongst the plastic bags of muesli.

Fran sighed and then picked up the cornflakes and returned them to their proper place.

“I guess somebody wanted a change,” said Steve.

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Fran took a step backwards. “Pardon?” she said.

“When someone leaves their unwanted groceries in the wrong place, it shows that they’ve changed their mind. Like this person didn’t want to eat cornflakes any more so they decided to buy muesli instead.”

“Is muesli a step up from cornflakes?” said Fran.

“It’s just a change,” said Steve.

“Don’t you ever fancy a change?” said Fran.

“Somethings you can’t change,” he said.

“I guess,” said Fran.

“Can I pay for these?” said Steve.

Fran nodded, turned and walked down the aisle towards the till. “That’ll be four sixtyeight,” she said as she ducked beneath the flap in the counter.

Steve frowned. “Even with the extra stuff?” he said. Fran looked at the counter. A bag of muesli sat amongst the other items. Fran looked at Steve. Steve smiled. “I fancied a change,” he said.

“Why now?” said Fran.

“To be honest, it’s not for me, it for my dad,” he said.

Fran nodded.

“Can I have a bag?” said Steve.

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“Yeah, sure. Er… sorry.”

“My dad really likes hotdogs but he’s just been diagnosed with bowel cancer so the doctor says he has to eat more fibre. I guess once a week’s not going to hurt though.”

“I’m sorry,” said Fran.

Steve shook his head. “He’s got this dog who’s got some kind of skin infection and needs to be shaved all the time.”

“Hence the shaving foam.”

“You wouldn’t believe how much foam you need to shave a dog.”

“A lot I guess,” said Fran leaning forwards onto the counter.

Steve smiled “How much do I owe you?”

Fran tapped the prices into the till then looked up and said, “Six twenty-two” Steve rifled through his pockets for a few moments and then stopped. “Can I pay on my card?” he said.

“Sorry, the guy who owns this shop is a bit old fashioned.”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t got any cash on me.

Do you mind if I just nip to the bank?”

Fran smiled “It’s fine, just pay me next time you’re in,” she said. “It’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”

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“You’re not going to get into trouble are you?”

“I’m sure we can manage without six twenty-two for a couple of days.”

Well, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

“No problem Steve. See you later.”

Steve turned as he was walking out of the door. “My name’s Frank,” he said.

“What do you want to do tonight?” said Fran.

James shrugged. “There’s some good TV on, I think, or we could get out a movie.”

“We could talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why talk?”

Fran pulled at a crease in her top. “Who are you Jim?” “Only the guys call me Jim.” “Well James then. Who are you James? I mean really?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking. You could be anyone really. You could be different when you leave this house. You could use a different name. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know you.”

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“You do know me. I’m James.

Y’know…me?”

“But what does that person think inside?”

“I love you. Look, what’s up?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Who are you James?”

“Stop saying that. What’s wrong with you?

“Nothing,” Fran shook her head.

“Nothing at all.”

“Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

“I had the chance and I lost it.”

“Lost what?”

“The chance to know his name.”

“Who? “My mysterious customer.”

“The weird guy from the shop?”

Fran nodded.

“What the fuck are you worrying about some freak for?”

“I don’t know. He made me think.”

“Think what? Did he say something about me?”

“He doesn’t know you.”

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“Are you sure? Because if it’s one of the guys then I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“He doesn’t know you.”

“Has he asked you any questions about me?”

“He hasn’t even asked me if I have a boyfriend,” James stared at the table. He inhaled slowly “It’s alright, he’s just a guy,” said Fran.

James exhaled slowly.

“He never asked me anything,” she said.

James ran his hand through his hair.

“Whatever this guys’ doing, its making you behave weirdly.”

Fran shook her head.

“Look at you. We never fight. What’s happening?” said James.

“I don’t know,” said Fran.

“I don’t want everyday to be like this,” he said.

“It won’t,” she said.

“You sure about that?”

“It won’t,” she said.

James nodded then touched her knee.

Fran put her hand on top of his. James slid his hand from under hers and put it around her shoulders. Fran curled her feet up onto the sofa 116

and leaned into James. James picked up the remote and flicked the television on.

Fran kicked the side of the sofa. Coffee dripped onto the floor. James looked at her. Fran grinned and then put the mugs onto the coffee table. She got a cloth from the kitchen and dabbed at the wet patch on the carpet. Fran returned the cloth to the kitchen sink and then switched the light off and sat down next to James.

James changed the channel, sighed, changed the channel, sighed, changed the channel. James switched the television off. “As long as you keep working in that store and that guy keeps coming in then everyday you’re gonna be weird like this when you get back,” he said.

“He doesn’t come in everyday.”

“Everyday, you said. You said he comes in everyday and everyday he uses a different name.”

“I don’t work there everyday.”

“You work there enough.”

“Well where else am I supposed to work? Where else will employ a twenty nine year old woman with no qualifications? I’ve been working in Tom’s store my entire life.”

“There’s the supermarkets.”

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“I’m not working in a supermarket.

Supermarket’s are what’s sending good people like Tom’s businesses down the drain.”

“This isn’t about Tom.” “No James, it’s about me.”

“I couldn’t bear it if you came home like this every night. I don’t know how long I could take it.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll phone my folks. There might be a vacancy at their store or at least they might know someone.” James stood up and walked over to the telephone. Fran listened whilst he dialled his parents’ number.

“Hi Ma it’s Jimbo,” said James. Fran stood up and went into the bathroom. She ran some water in the sink and washed her face. The towel over the bath was wet so she threw it in the laundry basket and got another one out of the airing cupboard. Fran patted her face dry with the towel. When she walked back into the lounge James was sat on the sofa. He smiled.

Fran sat down.

“I think I’ve sorted you something,” said James.

“What is it?”

“Well my folks said there were no vacancies in their store but Mr Rogers, who owns the hardware store up the road from 118

theirs, has had a sign up advertising for staff up for the last month. They said they’ll pop in tomorrow and have a word with him on your behalf.”

“I don’t know anything about hardware,” said Fran.

“All you have to do is sell it.”

“And what happens when they ask me what length bolt they need, or what kind of saw does whatever. I don’t know that kind of thing.”

“That’s what he’ll teach you. It’s what they call, “on the job learning”.”

“I don’t know,” said Fran “Please honey. Do you really want to come home to an argument every night?”

“No of course I don’t.”

“Well that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep working at Tom’s.”

“Things will get better.”

“They will if you take this job. Honey, that guy’s doing something to your head. It’s like he’s controlling you or something.”

“I don’t know,” said Fran. “Tom’s been so good to me I like working at Tom’s.”

“Please honey,” said James. He put his hand on her knee. “Every good thing has to come to an end at some point,” he said. “It’s just the way things are. Please honey, for me? You 119

don’t want to fight anymore do you? You do love me don’t you because I love you?”

Fran sighed.

“You do love me don’t you?”

Fran sighed and nodded. “Look, I’ll try it. For you. If that’s what’ll make you happy.”

James smiled. “That’ll make me really happy.”

Fran nodded. “I’ll hand my notice in tomorrow, I’ll do my two weeks and then I’ll never go back into Tom’s store again if that’s what you want.”

James nodded. “You could just leave tomorrow.”

Fran looked at him. “I couldn’t just leave Tom in the lurch. I’m gonna do my two weeks. Tom’s been good to me. He’s the only boss I’ve ever had. The least I can do is give him two more weeks whilst he finds somebody new.”

“But if you ain’t gonna go back in there…”

“No, James. I’ll do what you ask but I’ll do it my way.”

“Honey.”

“You won’t change my mind on this.”

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James nodded. “Alright, you do the two weeks. But don’t talk to that guy and don’t ask him his goddamn name.”

Fran’s boss was standing in front of the packets of muesli muttering to himself.

“Morning Tom,” she said as she passed him.”

“Why can’t people put things back where they got them if they don’t want them?” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” said Fran. She stopped to pick up one of the bags that had fallen at his feet and placed it with the cornflakes.

“So it’s you is it?” said her boss.

Pointing at the shelf.

“Oh,” said Fran smiling, “Sorry Tom, you know what I’m like on a morning.”

“Too well,” said her boss holding out his hand. Fran passed him the packet of muesli and then went into the storeroom. She placed her bag on the chair in the corner and hung her coat over the back. Then she went back into the shop and stood behind the counter.

Her boss appeared out of the pet food aisle. “Busy day I think,” he said.

“You always say that, Tom.” 121

“And sometimes I’m right,” he muttered walking round towards the fruit and veg. Fran turned the till on. It read twelve forty-eight from the last sale of yesterday. She separated a few of the bags from under the counter and then pulled up the stool and sat down. Her boss came out of the fruit and veg aisle and leaned on the counter.

“Last day,” said Tom. Fran nodded.

“You’ve been working here fifteen years,” he said.

Fran nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was about time that I moved on.”

Tom nodded. Then he lifted his hat and scratched his head. “So the hardware store?

That’s moving on?”

“I want to try my hand at something new.”

Tom nodded then scratched his cheek.

“What’s going on Fran?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time, fifteen years as I’ve said. Not once have you wanted to move on. All the kids in high school went years ago. But you, you’ve never spoken about moving on in all the years that I’ve known you. Not once. So I ask you, what’s going on?”

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Fran shrugged.

“Is it something to do with me?”

Fran put her hand on top of Tom’s. “Of course it’s not. You’ve always been kind to me,” she said.

“So what’s the problem?”

“James doesn’t want me to work for you anymore. It’s because of the customers.”

“What’s wrong with the customers?

They’re not worse than the ones you’ll get at the hardware store? Those guys will be all over you like a rash.”

Fran shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.

“It just don’t make sense,” said Tom. “We’ve been having arguments,” she said.

“About our customers?”

“There’s one guy who comes in. He always buys the same things but uses a different name.”

“I know the lad. Nice guy. His dad’s got this bald dog that he takes everywhere with him. Dad’s a bit odd but son seems like salt of the earth. You thinking of running away with him?”

Fran sat up. “Of course not, I’m with James.”

“Well I still don’t see what the problem is.”

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“He makes me think.”

“Who, James?”

“No this guy, Steve or Burt or whatever he’s actually called. I don’t know. It’s like how can you really know someone’s telling the truth?”

Tom shook his head. “The only things people do that are really truthful are the bad things,” he said.

“I don’t get it,” said Fran.

Tom put his hand on the counter.

“When someone kicks you or punches you then you know exactly how they’re feeling. Being nice is just a front. Everybody wants something.”

“But they don’t have to hurt other people to get it.”

“I guess. Trust no one. That’s what they say isn’t it?”

Fran nodded. “Sometimes I think that I don’t know James. Like, he says all these nice things to me but he gets angry at me as well.”

“That’s people for you.”

“But if he loves me then why doesn’t he listen to what I have to say? Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“My Mother used to say that men use the word “love” on women like cowboys use a lasso on a bull. Wise woman my mother.”

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Fran frowned. “So what are you saying?”

“A man needs a woman like an antacid.

When he ain’t got a woman it’s like bad indigestion: It’s all he can think about. He’d sell up his business for another body in his bed.”

Fran nodded. “But that’s nice isn’t it?”

Tom shook his head. “Love like that. It’s not about love. It’s about getting rid of the pain.”

Fran frowned. “What does that mean then? Do you not love your wife?”

“We’re a team,” he said. He lifted his hat and scratched his head. “It’s a bit like swapping a blind horse for a lame hound.

Neither of us are perfect but you get something from a lame hound that you can’t get from a blind horse.

Fran shook her head. “I don’t get it,” she said.

“Just make sure you’re not swapping your blind horse for a dead horse.”

Fran looked down at the counter and nodded.

Tom put his hand on top of her right hand. “I guess you’ll do what you want. I just wanted to say thanks.”

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Fran smiled and then put her left hand on top of his. “Thanks Tom,” she said. “Look, I’m really sorry about this.”

Tom nodded. Fran put her left hand on the counter.

Tom grinned. “Well, best be getting on,” he said. “Busy day I think.”

Fran smiled. “You always say that Tom.” Tom nodded as he walked away from the counter. “Yeah and sometimes I’m right,” he muttered to himself.

At three o’clock an old man came in with a dog that no hair on its body. It’s head was covered in matted black fur. The man made a few rounds of the aisles then appeared at the counter with a bottle of whiskey and some sausages.

“Just these,” he said as he dropped the items onto the counter.

Fran put the items into the bag and then rang the prices into the till. “That’s twelve twentythree, please,” she said.

“Apparently my son owes you some money as well.”

“Your son?”

“He’s been coming in here to buy stuff for me,” he said. “My son told me to speak to 126

the girl behind the counter. He gave me your description. He wasn’t sure of your name.”

Fran nodded. “I know who you mean,” she said. “I haven’t seen him for a while. Has he been away or something?”

The man shook his head. “Got beat up bad last week,” said the man. “He’s been resting in bed.”

“Beat up?” said Fran.

The man nodded. “Pretty bad. He’ll be alright though.”

Fran nodded. “Do you know who did it?”

The man sighed “I dunno,” he said.

“Small town. Everyone knows each other. Not a place a man wants to be making enemies if he wants to stay.”

“I guess,” said Fran “But someone should tell the police.”

The man shook his head. “The police are the same as everyone else ‘round here. They probably know who it is,” he sighed. “At the end of the day who’s word are they gonna believe? Are they gonna believe a stranger’s word or are they gonna believe the word of a local who has witnesses dripping from the ceiling?”

Fran shook her head. “But he’s a nice guy,” she said.

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The man nodded “So it looks like I’ll be doing my own shopping for a while.”

“But your ill…” The man looked at her.

Fran stopped. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“My son told you did he?” said the man.

“You two obviously get along.”

“He just comes in a lot,” said Fran. The man nodded. His dog whimpered. The man looked down.

Fran bit her bottom lip then looked at the man. “I mean, I don’t mind… if you’re ill… I don’t mind… I mean it’s only a few things.”

The man smiled. “Still life in the old horse yet,” he said. “I let my son get those things for me. It’s a kind of joke really. I mean imagine buying those same things every day. How embarrassing!” The dog whimpered, he knelt down and stroked the dog’s head. “He doesn’t even know that the sausages are for Chip here,” he said.

Fran grinned. “Well if you’re sure.”

“Of course. But thanks for the offer.”

The man put his hand into his pocket. How much?”

“Your son owed Six twenty-two, so that comes to sixteen forty-five in all.”

“Right,” said the man pulling out a twenty-dollar note.

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Fran put the twenty into the till and gave the man his change. “Can I ask you a question?” she said as he inserted the coins into his wallet.

The man nodded.

“What’s your son’s name? I mean, every time he comes in he gives me a different name.”

“That’s Frank for you,” said the man smiling. “Always was a strange one. Takes after his father.”

“So it’s Frank then?”

The man nodded. “He’d kill me if he knew I’d told you,” he looked at his shoes, “I guess he won’t be doing much of that in his state.” Frank’s father half chuckled.

“Well can you tell Frank that I say, “Hi and get well soon”?”

The man took a long breath then nodded. He held Fran’s gaze for a moment then said, “Sure thing. What’s your name again?”

“Fran.”

“I’ll tell him Fran says hi.”

“Thanks,” she said.

He gave the lead a tug. “Come on Chip,” he said leading the dog out of store. Fran sat down on the stool.

It was raining when Fran left the shop. Her house was half a mile across town. By the time 129

she got to her front door she was soaked. She went straight to the bathroom, picked up a clean towel and began rubbing her hair. She kicked off her shoes. The carpet beneath her feet was damp. Water pooled around her foot when she pushed it into the pile. She stopped rubbing her hair and looked up at the ceiling. A drip fell from the ceiling into the centre of her forehead.

“Fuck,” she said. She dropped the towel over the wet patch and then went into the kitchen and looked under the sink. There was a bottle of bleach and some fly spray. Fran frowned. She walked back through the lounge and opened the front door. The bucket sat to the left of the door. It was filled with soil. The sunflower that James had bought her for her birthday poked out of the centre. Fran went into the house. Put her shoes on and then went back into the rain. She turned left in the direction of the hardware store.

There was no light inside the store. Fran tried the handle and the door opened. She stepped inside.

“Hello,” she said. There was no answer.

“Hello?”

“Ow,” said a voice in the darkness.

“Hello?” said Fran.

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The light flicked on. A man stood in the corner of the room. His hand was on the light switch. “That’s better,” he said.

“Hi,” said Fran. “I was wondering if you had any…”

“Buckets?” said the man. “Buckets, buckets, buckets.”

“I guess a lot of people have been asking for buckets,” she said.

“Every time it rains I sell out of buckets.

Makes me wonder what people have done with all the buckets they bought last time it rained.”

“Maybe there’s more leaks.”

“Well, we sell creosote as well. If people would look after their roofs then they wouldn’t need to buy a new bucket every time it rains.” The man scratched the side of his nose. “Can you see any leaks in here?”

Fran shook her head.

“Exactly,” he said.

“I guess a leak in a hardware store is bad for business.”

“Clever girl,” said the man. “You’ve obviously got it going on up there,” the man tapped his head. “I’m sure you’d be an asset to any business.”

Fran smiled, “Thanks,” she said. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

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The man looked at her. “Obviously I was talking generally about any business. I didn’t been this business.”

Fran frowned. “But I thought…” she stared at the floor. “So you’re not looking for somebody then?”

“To marry? Yes. To work? Now? No. My Grandfather ran this shop until he was eighty-five, the old dog,” the shop keeper smiled. “My Pa had to find his own way in the world. Do you know?” The man sighed. “My Grandpa died when I was fifteen years old. Left me the shop instead of Pa. Obviously Pa disowned me. At least I had the shop.”

Fran stared at her feet. There was a wet line around her calf where the water had soaked up her jeans. She pushed her hair out of her face.

“So you’re not looking for someone then?” she said.

“You need a job do you?” said the store owner.

Fran nodded “I hear they need someone down at Old Tom’s Store,” he said. “Last girl had been there fifteen years or something. I doubt they’ll find someone as committed as her very quickly.

These days, everybody’s leaving town.”

“But you were looking for someone?”

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The man shrugged, “Never crossed my mind. Can’t afford it,” he said. “When I get too old to work I’ll have to try to sell it, that is, unless I get myself a wife and kids.” The man sighed. “Not much of a place to leave them though,” he said. “Makes next to nothing.”

“But you stick it out?”

“One word for you,” he said. “Routine. I became settled, felt comfortable. I’ve been here thirty years and I’ll be here thirty more, no doubt.”

“You thought about moving on?”

“Certainly I’ve thought about it,” he said running his hand through his hair.

“Everything seemed too risky. I didn’t want to take a chance.”

Fran shook her head. “So no job then.”

“No buckets and no jobs,” he said. He looked her up and down then scratched the side of his nose. “Do you actually know anything about hardware,” he said.

Fran shook her head.

“So I couldn’t really employ you even if I wanted to, however nice you seem.”

“What about on the job training?” she said.

“On the job what?” he said. “Is that one of these new phrases people are batting about?”

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“I don’t know,” said Fran staring at the floor.

The man peered towards the doorway.

“Is it still raining?” he said.

“I’m soaked,” said Fran. She pulled her jumper. It sucked at her skin.

“I guess I’m going to have to wait until it stops. Do you mind?” The man nodded towards the door. Fran turned and started to shut it. “Sorry, I meant leaving,” he said. “I’ve got a lot to do.” The man looked her up and down. “Sorry.”

Fran nodded, “That’s OK,” she said. She turned towards the door. “Thanks,” she muttered. Fran stepped onto the step outside and pulled the door to. The wind had picked up and the rain was blowing horizontally down the street. Behind her footsteps crossed the wooden floor inside the store. The key turned in the lock.

Fran shielded her face with her arm and stepped down onto the pavement.

Fran sat on the sofa watching the water drip from the ceiling. The wet patch had reached her feet.

James burst in though the door laughing. “That’s quite a storm,” he said.

“Where’ve you been?” she said.

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“I popped into the Sid’s Bar after work.

Then this storm kicked up and Sid said that he wouldn’t let anyone go anywhere until it had stopped raining so I’ve been there all night.

Sorry honey, I tried to ring but no one answered.”

“We’ve got a leak,” said Fran nodding towards the ceiling.

James looked up and then down at the wet carpet. “Jesus, you could have put a bucket under it or something.”

“My sunflower is in the bucket.”

“You should have thrown it out. The carpet’s ruined.”

“I didn’t want to throw it out,” she said.

“It’s only a sunflower. You could get another. It’s gonna cost a fucking fortune to replace this.” James ran his hand through his hair. “We don’t have that kind of money.”

“I didn’t want to throw it out so I went down to the hardware store in the pouring rain to buy another.”

“Was it still open?”

“Yeah it was open. They didn’t have any buckets though.”

“It’s a fucking hardware store, of course they had buckets.”

“They didn’t have any buckets and they didn’t have any jobs either.”

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“What are you talking about?”

“They didn’t have any jobs,” she said. “I thought you said I had a job.”

“Honey,” “You lied,” “You don’t need to work,” “You lied to me,” she said.

James looked at the floor. “We’d have been OK, we could have managed on what I earn.”

“You lied to me.”

“We could have managed until you ruined the carpet for a fucking sunflower.

“You should have repaired the roof.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know about the roof?”

“You’re supposed to maintain the roof, not wait until the thing starts to leak.”

“Yeah and you could have thrown your fucking sunflower out and put that bucket underneath the leak. The carpet’s ruined.”

“I didn’t want to throw it out.”

“It’s just a fucking flower,” he said.

James walked across the lounge and opened the door. The sunflower was wet and drooped slightly. James kicked the bucket over and then pulled the flower out and threw it on the floor.

He picked up the bucket and put it beneath the 136

leak then went back to the door and shut it and locked the door.

“Sorted,” he said sitting down on the sofa and folding his arms. The drips of water cried out as they landed in the bucket.

Drip “Who are you?” said Fran.

“Don’t start that again,” said James.

“Who are you?” she said again. James looked at the floor. Fran unfolded her arms.

Drip “Who are you?” she said.

“Don’t say that,” said James.

“Who are you?”

Drip James stood up “Say that again and I’ll fucking…” He ran his hand through his hair.

“We were supposed to stop arguing. When you stopped working at Tom’s we were supposed to stop arguing.”

“I’m moving on.”

“You what.”

“I’m not being nobody. I’m not being a dead horse.”

“What are you talking about. All I wanted is to get you away from that fucking freak.”

“That freak has a name.”

“You don’t even know his name.”

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“His name is Frank.”

“You saw him.”

“No,” Drip “You spoke to him.”

“No I didn’t. He hasn’t been able to leave the house. He hasn’t been able to leave his bed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Somebody beat him up James. You beat him up.”

“I didn’t touch the guy.”

“Who are you James? Who the fuck are you?”

“I said, I didn’t touch him” “Sure you touched him. You fucked him up good and proper.”

Drip “I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“You do, James. He’s the one with bruises all over his face.”

“You’re lying.”

“No you’re the liar, James.”

“Stop calling me that,” “I’m moving on,” “You what?”

“I’m leaving. I’m moving on.”

Drip “You not going anywhere.”

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Drip Fran walked into the bedroom. She pulled her old schoolbag out from under the bed.

“What you doing?” said James.

Fran opened the drawer. “I’m packing my bag and I’m going.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Did you hear what I said? Did you hear me?” James stood in the doorway. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

Fran stuffed clothes into her bag. “Get out of my way James.”

“I locked the door,” Fran threw the bag over her shoulder. “I have a key,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you. I’m moving on,” Fran kicked the bucket over as she walked across the lounge. She put her key in the door.

“Stop,” said James.

Fran turned and looked at him. “Bye James,” she said. She turned the key. The lock slid open James grabbed her bag. “You heard what I said.” He yanked the bag. Fran didn’t let go. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her back into the room.

“Stop it,” she screamed.

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James threw her down into the middle of the soaking carpet. Then he sat down, pinning her beneath him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “We’re just going to wait until you calm down.”

“Let me go,” said Fran. The front door slowly swung open. Outside it was still raining.

A dog stood in the doorway watching them. The dog walked away. “Let me go,” said Fran quietly.”

“I love you Fran. Do you hear me? I love you. I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t leave.”

Fran looked James in the eye. “It’s too late, James. You can’t stop me. I’m moving on.”

“Don’t go,” said James.

Fran curled her hand into a fist. “I’m moving on,” she said.

“Don’t go. I love you.”

Fran brought her fist up. Cartilage cracked. Blood trickled from Fran’s nose. “I’m moving on,” she said. She brought her fist up into her eye. James stood up.

“Thankyou,” she said.

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