by Ali Smith
You’ll catch your death.
Don’t feel the cold, me, the girl said before the doors closed on her again.
The bald man wasn’t wearing a suit.
Eventually he fixed the chair somehow on to the back of the car. He made a great fuss about it. He was an awful baby.
Can’t see a fucking thing with that there, the bald man kept saying and squinting at his mirror when they were driving along.
She was in the hospital, Gracie, it was before she ran away to America, and she had a cancer down there, you know, nobody could say where, the place was not what you call mentionable, and she had to have an operation. And she nearly died from it, there was a fair chance she would. But in the newsreel she was there after it all, back on her feet, and she winked right at the camera filming her. Oh it was glorious. Right at the camera she winked. She’d come through it, she had. And there was one she did where she played a singer called Sal. That was where the song came from, the one about Sally. And in it she had to go to a posh party and sing to the rich people, you know, be their evening’s entertainment. And she called the old rich woman Lady Tissue-paper, oh it made me laugh. And she taught this old rich woman to sing the words of a common song, and told her off for pronouncing the words wrong, oh it was so funny. I’ll never forget it. And in it, I’ll never forget this either, I’ll remember it as long as I live, there was a girl in the story a bit younger than Sal, a bit naïve, and she was very poor, and her father drank, and his drinking and hitting her had made her act bad. Well, Sal, she let this girl come and live with her. Goodness of her heart, the girl had nowhere else, her father’d thrown her out, she was on the street if it wasn’t for Sal. And the girl one day got angry with Sal all because Sal was kind to her. She started to act bad, break the plates and the little ornaments in the room. It’s not like they were much. But they were all she had. And Sal stands in the room and watches the girl break all the precious cups and the things all round her. And she just says to her, you go right ahead, you break it. And here’s my watch and all. You can have it, here, take it. Do what you want with it. Because I believe there’s something that has been put in you by all that’s happened to you and it’s got to come out.
Doesn’t half drone on, the bald man said.
Leave her, the girl said.
I went with Frank to the Palace and saw that one. My brother, Frank was.
Oh yeah, she was talking about him earlier, the girl said.
Did he lose his hair through carelessness? Here. You. Lose your hair through carelessness?
She means you, the girl said and laughed.
Me? the bald man said.
Like a convict. A concentrating camp, if you ask me.
It’s the fashion, Mrs. Young, the girl said.
They were driving along the motorway and May was wondering which of the saints it was, she couldn’t recall, the one who had carried the child on his back and walked across rivers and up and down mountains and kept it safe all the way, when she felt it happen, it all just slipped out without her being able to stop it.
Oh dear. Oh dear me.
The rich bad smell unfurled and filled the car.
Christ! the bald man said. What the fuck’s that smell? What the fuck!
He swerved the car to the side of the road. He opened his door and jumped about outside the car in the sleet in the dark. In came the cold air round the smell.
Aw Christ, he shouted. Aw, my Mazda. For Christ sake, Josie.
The bald man cried. He stood in the sleet for a bit and he was crying. The girl reached forward to close the door because the cold was coming in and there was sleet on her jacket on May’s shoulder.
Thank you, love.
Eventually he stopped the carrying on. He got back in the car. He shut its door and got it going again and pulled back out on to the motorway.
The roof above them slid back.
Close it, the girl said. She’ll die of the cold. She’s not well.
Yeah, well, what the fuck you think you’re doing, what the fuck you’re going to do with her anyway, I don’t know, the bald man said.
The St. John Ambulance Portakabin at the crescent, the girl said. They’ll clean her, they know about that stuff. Put the heating on. Aidan. Now.
And who’s going to fucking well clean up my car, will the St. John Ambulance fucking Portakabin do that? the bald man said. Yeah, that’s right, put on the heating and let the smell of her get right into the system so I never get rid of it. Fucking perfect. Thanks Josie. Thanks.
For all I know I’m dead and gone already.
Hand on my heart I wish you were. I wish you’d died before you put a fucking toe in my car, the bald man said.
Aidan, the girl said. She’s old.
I’m not old.
I mean kind of relatively, the girl said. Aidan. Put the window up. Up.
I’ll throw, the bald man said. I mean it. I’m going to throw.
It’s only a stupid car, the girl said.
And where’s she going tonight? the bald man said. Where are you going to put her? Who’s going to take her, state she’s in?
You’re such a selfish wanker, Aidan, the girl said.
It was cold, when I took it, her hand. But she was a bold true girl when she was here, and she whistled away. She whistled away like a trooper.
You tell him, Mrs. Young, the girl said.
In the city the bald man parked and got out. He went to the back of the car and rattled about a lot. Then he came to the passenger side and threw something on the pavement that made a crashing noise when it hit the ground. He opened the door and stood well back. The wheelchair was on its side at his feet.
I’m not touching her, he said.
I’m going home for a shower, he said.
Don’t phone me again, you, he said.
Thank Christ the seats are leather, he said.
The girl went somewhere while the bald man stared at May in his car in disgust.
Cheer up, you.
And you can shut your mouth, the bald man said.
Married, aren’t you? Wife doesn’t know, does she?
The bald man turned his back on her.
Just a kid. I know your type.
He didn’t say anything. He stood with his back to her, tapping his foot on the pavement. The girl came back with two big men she’d found in a pub, one on either side of her. Neither of them was wearing a suit.
Phaw, one said and stepped back. Somebody’s coming up roses and daffodils.
Told you, the girl said.
Careful, the other said as he lifted May out. No, I’ve got her, I’ve got you, love, no worries.
A while since I’ve been in a big man’s arms.
The man holding her laughed.
A pleasure, darling, he said.
This man put her in the chair and the two big men went back to the pub. They crossed the road waving, laughing at the bald man and what had happened to his car. The bald man slammed the car door shut and locked the car with a key that made a beeping noise. He went without forgiving.
Known a couple like him in my time.
Bet you have, Mrs. Young, the girl said.
You be careful round him.
I can handle myself, the girl said. Don’t you worry.
May sat in the sweet smell of May. She could feel herself all down herself, cold now, very unpleasant, all round and down her legs. The girl pushed her along the dark pavement, round a corner, and the road turned into a crowd. There was a great noise and a great smell of food, and there were people all over the place, standing and sitting around even in this cold. There were stalls, places you could get things to eat. It was like a circus, or a hanging. The place was mobbed. People standing in a queue parted for them so they could push through; the girl laughed and told May the queue was for the Portaloos.
Well, I don’t need to go, now.
This we know, the girl said.
W
here are we?
Greenwich, the girl said behind her.
Oh.
You said. You wanted to come, the girl said.
Did I? It’s the Greenwich Fair, is it?
Could call it that, the girl said.
The girl pushed the chair up a ramp into a big hut with heaters in it. Oh, it was warm! A woman wheeled her through the back and there were sinks, with taps and all. There was hot water and things for cleaning people up in this hut. It was marvellous what was possible in a hut these days, and a kind woman washed her down with a showerhead and towelled her dry and there was baby powder too, in a cupboard in the hut. When the girl came back she’d brought blue pyjamas, with trousers, and a jumper and a coat and things.
Cut this thing off my wrist, will you, girl?
The girl found a pair of scissors and she cut the plastic thing with the date of her birth on it off. That felt better, it did. Then the girl wheeled her back through to the door of the hut where there was a chap sitting waiting. He was an older chap but he was quite a looker. He wasn’t wearing a suit.
This is Mark, Mrs. Young, she said. He’s the one who found you. He’s going to take you to his house for tonight and make sure you’re okay.
Not Harbour House.
She’s scared of boats, the girl said.
I’m not scared of boats.
The man shook her hand.
Careful where you touch. Couldn’t keep it in.
Understandable, the man said.
You’re nice and clean now, the girl said.
The man was going to take her somewhere warm. It would be a pleasure, he said. He said he’d pick her up at the main road, if the girl, he called the girl Joe, would have her ready waiting at the kerbside so he could just duck the car in quick.
The girl wheeled May back out into the great crowd, through all the people. It was a great celebration. It was just like after the war. The girl stopped the chair and came round the front and bent down to fix the scarf round May’s neck, make sure the hat was properly on.
What’s it all for?
God, you smell loads better now, she said. You actually smell positively nice.
If it’s got to come out it’s got to come out. No stopping it.
The girl turned with one arm round May and pointed above the crowd, up at the backs of the houses.
See those windows? See that one in the middle? He’s in there, she said.
The man in the suit?
He’s not in a suit, not as far as I know, the girl said.
Well, I’m not dead yet, then.
You said it, the girl said.
For 29 January
Dear Mrs. Young,
I’m sorry not to be there in person this year, I’m in Canada on secondment and won’t be home in the UK again till the end of February.
But am sending this card to say hello.
With best wishes.
I hope you are well.
Miles
fact is, London might not always be here! There have been times in the history of London that London practically stopped existing! Brooke stands next to the Shepherd Galvano-Magnetic Clock. She holds her sides. It is what you do when you are getting your breath back. Then she feels her jeans pocket to check for the Moleskine book. Moleskine books are notebooks that were famously used by famous authors like Ernest Hemingway and Bruce someone. She can feel the edge of the sticker Anna stuck on its cover. The word HISTORY is in her pocket. That is quite cool! For example there is when Queen Boudicca burned London to the ground which was to do with a tribe called the Iceni tribe and the uprising they were part of. If you were being witty with words that is what you could call what Brooke just did right now when she ran up the slope: up-rising. To be more literal she did it a moment ago and it took under a minute yip yip! Brooke Bayoude Fastest Runner In World Coming In Well Below 60 Second Mark. You can leave the word the out of Fastest Runner In World and in other places because it is a headline kind of thing and people will understand that the word the is there even if it isn’t actually there. It means the word the is implied. But it would obviously have been a lot faster than 54 seconds if she hadn’t had to dodge a lot of people. A lot of people have decided to visit the Observatory today due to it being the Easter holidays. The Shepherd Galvano-Magnetic Clock is a slave clock. A slave clock is a clock driven by a master clock, whose mechanism is elsewhere from the slave clock. The Shepherd Galvano-Magnetic Clock also has 23 hours marked on it instead of just the normal 12, like it is a double-length clock plus an 0 at the top where 12 midnight and noon would be, to make 24. It means that sometimes it is actually nothing o’clock. Nothing o’clock! What time is it? It’s a quarter past nothing. It’s half past nothing. Doctor, Doctor, I think I’m a clock. Well, don’t go getting all wound up about it. Joke from the days before watch batteries and digital. Brooke’s own watch is new. It is a Me To You watch. The picture on it is of a bear holding out a flower so that every time you look at the time it is as if the bear would like to give you the flower. It was from her mother and father on her birthday and it came with an actual bear that has been made to look like it is old though it isn’t, it is new with a pretend patch sewn into its face with big stitches. This is because old-looking things are more lovable. The bear is called Tatty Teddy. 54 seconds is Brooke’s first up-slope score (according to the watch) since she became ten. She has been ten for one day. She became it on Sunday 11 April. Ten on eleven April twenty ten. It will be particularly good next year because she will be 11 on 11.4.2011! Last year at school Brooke told Wendy Slater that there is a whole other range of numbers other than the usual ones that come after twenty-nine, that go twenty ten, twenty eleven, twenty twelve, twenty thirteen. Wendy Slater believed her and altered her homework accordingly is what the letter home said about it THINK YOU’RE SO CLEVER Brooke’s class has had Mr. Warburton as its teacher now for two years. There is no doubting Brooke’s intelligence. Her verbal dexterity is notable and she is wonderfully imaginative and of course we do not have a problem with that or either of these things. But sometimes her infectious imagination can be vertiginous for her peers THINK YOU’RE THE CLEVEREST vertiginous: makes you feel dizzy.
But the fact is, Greenwich, right now, with all the buildings down there that people come here specially to look at, and the towers that are from now, and the old buildings that are historical, was once, way back in time, quite bustling and so on exactly like it is bustling today. But then out of nowhere and in a way no one could have predicted it all just stopped being bustling, not just when Queen Boudicca set fire to London and burned it down, but also when the Roman Empire began to not be an empire. Then, for some reason that is historical, London stopped being a port that was important—ha! the important port stopped being important. Greenwich was very important back then, historians know now, because it had a temple and a shrine and so on.
The fact is, they found a coin and an artefact, or artefacts.
The fact is. The arte-fact is. Brooke bends down to do up her lace. The arty-fact is, there was a picture of a man’s head on the coin, and it was one of the things they found that prove that a Romano-British temple was here once. The picture is of the head of Flavius Constans who was an emperor and the coin is dated the year 337 and then the history of Flavius Constans is that he was murdered in the year 350 which is actually only thirteen years after his head was on a coin! So people in authority should be more careful because having your head on a coin doesn’t mean you are immune to history like people are immune to things they have been inoculated against by a doctor. Just because someone is in authority, for example in charge of you, and can get you by the arm when no one will know so that your arm afterwards really hurts, and shout in your ear, so loud so that it feels like a slap and your ear can feel the words in it for quite some time after, it doesn’t mean history won’t happen back to them.
The fact is, when someone shouts like that at you it is like a passenger-carrying
hot air balloon filling with the hot air that’s supposed to send it into the sky but instead it is being inflated dangerously fast inside a very small room so that its sides and top press against the walls and ceiling which means that either the walls and ceiling will have to give way or the balloon that is your head will explode. The balloon that is your head is metaphorical. This does not mean that it is not real. It is just a way of saying something that is difficult to say.
(Brooke’s mother and father called her through to the kitchen. Her father was standing by the window, holding the two letters. Her mother was sitting at the table. She patted the chair next to her, which meant she wanted Brooke to come and sit there. Brooke stayed standing where she was at the door. She looked down and at the same time sideways at the letters out of the slant of her eye, because it is possible to look like you are looking down but actually be looking up. She could see the school letterhead on the top of one of the letters. Brooke, her mother said, we can sort out whatever it is if you tell us but we can’t if you don’t. We’re not angry, her father said, we’d just like to know why. Brooke shrugged one shoulder then the other. Later, her mother took her in her arms and sat her on her knee. I know something’s wrong, she said, I know my girl and I know when she’s sad, we can’t have this, your father is very worried. Brooke didn’t say anything. Later, her father took her for a walk down by the river. Want to go through the tunnel? he said. Brooke shook her head. I thought you liked the tunnel, her father said. Brooke stared at the slapping brown surface of the water. It shifted about like thousands and thousands of little shoves. You’ve got to start behaving better, her father said, your mother is very worried, all this not coming out of your room, not turning up at school, where do you go? what’s the problem? You can tell me. Her father looked at the water too as he said it. Then he said, or you can maybe tell your teacher, if you don’t want to tell me THINK YOU’RE THE CLEVEREST WELL WAIT AND SEE MISS CLEVER-CLEVER WHATEVER YOUR STUPID NAME IS BECAUSE BEING CLEVER IN MY CLASS IS ALL VERY WELL BUT IT MEANS NOTHING IN THE REAL WORLD WHICH YOU’LL FIND OUT THE HARD WAY YOU’RE A LITTLE PIECE OF NOTHING YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT then her father said, okay, imagine it isn’t me asking you. Imagine you are here with yourself, only yourself is my age, she’s old and wise and not nine any more, and imagine that you can say anything you like to yourself, about anything, and if you imagine that, then what would be the thing you would most need to tell her? Then there was a long time when nobody said anything. Then Brooke said, Dad? Yes? her father said and his face was waiting and serious. I think actually I would like to go through the tunnel after all, Brooke said. Her father nodded. He took her by the arms and he swung her into the air and carried her into the tunnel dome. They went down in the lifts. There weren’t very many people in the tunnel because it was the middle of the afternoon. He and Brooke did the whistling thing, where one of you goes way ahead of the other and then listens for the really good way that whistling sounds bouncing off the tiles down there, which is especially good when you can’t see the person who’s whistling or tell what direction the whistling is coming from. By the time they got to the other end and went up in the lift and patted the old one-eyed dog that sits on the grass at Island Gardens and looked at the view of the buildings and so on from the other side of the river, her father had forgotten what he was asking on the other side before they came down into the tunnel. So it was okay.)
