by Richard Ayre
The news of his death did not make me sad, but I felt some emotion tug at me. He had been a monster, a man who had tortured innocents in the hideous death camp of Auschwitz, but maybe he had not been the creature he became because of his own making. Perhaps it had been the touch of the lavender woman that had made him the way he was.
But I also realised that he and I were vastly different. He had never really emerged from the state of hatred for people unlike himself, even when he had once more become one of them. I had suffered that too, but I thought I may have come through the other side, or at least was beginning to.
I remembered Bruno Gombos, and the face of the young intruder in the croft, and my desire to kill them for what I saw as their effrontery to my God-like status. But I had not succumbed. I had retained some glowing ember of humanity that had stopped me from murdering them. I believe Valin would have choked them both to death without a moment’s hesitation.
As well as that, though, Valin was the last of the links to my previous lives. His passing left me as the last individual from a long-gone past. I was only now truly alone.
I still viewed the humans around me as inconsequential, but the hatred—the unfounded, frightening hatred—had diminished. I didn’t want anything to do with them, but I tolerated them now, which for a man such as myself was perhaps all I could hope for.
As I sat in my apartment on a balmy August evening in 2018, I raised a glass, as I always did on my birthday, to Madeleine.
I stared at her photograph, the only possession I had taken with me from the French cottage, and the hurt stabbed horrendously. I still missed her so much, even after almost fifty years. I missed our cottage. I missed dancing with her to records in front of the fire. I missed her voice, her touch, her smile. I ached for her every single day. But I thought she would have been happy at how I had dug myself from the hole of remorse and hatred I had found myself in during those years in the croft. I hoped she would be proud.
Next morning, I went downstairs to open the shop as usual. And it was on that day, the seventh of August 2018, when I met the girl who would change my life completely and permanently.
That was the day I met Pearl.
*
I spotted her as I was sitting at my place in the window. She was hanging around on the opposite side of the street, trying not to show too much obvious interest in the shop.
She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old. She wore pink Doc Martin boots, dungarees, and a denim jacket covered in badges. Her young face was very pretty, and her Afro was huge. Her big brown eyes skittered away from mine every time I looked up from the toy tractor I was carving. After an initial appraisal of her, I ignored her.
The next time I looked up she was standing outside the shop window, staring intently at my hands as I scraped and shaped the tractor. I smiled at her through the glass.
The bell above the door tinkled as she eventually came in. I put the tractor down onto the workbench and stood.
‘Good afternoon,’ I said. ‘Can I help you?’
She glanced around the shelves of brightly painted toys quickly. ‘Just looking,’ she answered curtly, with an East End accent.
I nodded and sat back down again to work on the tractor.
She wandered around the shop, picking up toys and putting them back down again. I continued to work on the tractor, amused at this young girl pretending to be interested in my work.
I was not in the least surprised when, from the corner of my eye, I saw her place a small, carved figure into the large bag hanging from her shoulder.
She was very good though. She didn’t leg it straight away. She simply continued to browse, picking up toys and putting them back. Eventually, she turned to leave. The bell tinkled again as she opened the door.
‘You do know you have a carved representation of The Little Mermaid in your bag, don’t you?’ I asked, quietly, still whittling away.
She went very still. I could almost hear her heartbeat banging across the shop floor. Fight or flight? I wondered. Would she run or try to brazen it out? I was curious rather than angry.
‘I ain’t got nothing,’ she finally said.
‘Dear me. Double negatives as well.’ I sighed and put down my chisel, looking her in the eyes for the first time. I raised my eyebrows and waited for her next move.
I half-expected her to make a run for it and, to be honest, I would have just let her go. I was in no mood to start chasing her down the street for a wooden toy that retailed at £17.99, but I smiled to myself at her next words.
‘Just supposing I had, accidently, knocked one of your toys into the bag,’ she asked. ‘What if I put it back?’
I folded my hands in front of me. ‘Then I suppose I would say something like, “That’s all right, accidents happen”. And you would put it back and leave.’
Her hand delved into the bag.
‘And never come back,’ I added, forcefully.
She must have seen something in my eyes then, for she nodded hesitantly. She pulled out the figure and set it back on the shelf where it belonged. She gazed at it longingly for a moment before turning to me with a questioning gaze.
I frowned. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
She immediately became more suspicious. ‘Why do you want to know? You going to call the coppers?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I’m just curious. I’d simply like to know who to look out for when I hear of a desperate thief in the vicinity,’ I answered. But I smiled when I did so, and eventually she smiled back.
‘Pearl,’ she said. ‘Pearl Tulip.’
‘Pearl Tulip?’ I asked. My smile broadened.
She shrugged.
We regarded each other for a while.
‘Why were you attempting to steal my property, Pearl Tulip?’
The half-smile that had been there on her lips faded. ‘What’s it to you?’
I shrugged. ‘Just curious, as I’ve said. And it is my shop you decided to pilfer from. I think I have a right to know.’
She stared at me for a second longer before seeming to slump. ‘It was for my sister. It was her birthday yesterday and I can’t afford to get her a present. All right?’ She was defiant now.
‘Yesterday?’ I asked. ‘August sixth?’
‘Duh,’ she said, scornfully. ‘That’s the date that usually comes before August seventh. Which is today.’
I smiled again and walked over to her, noticing the slight look of apprehension cross her face. I forget sometimes that ordinary humans see something dark in me at times. It must be a natural thing. They can sense I’m different. I picked the Little Mermaid up and studied it.
‘What’s her name?’ I looked up at her. ‘Your sister.’
‘Precious.’
I nodded. ‘Of course she is. And how old is she?’
‘Why d’you want to know all this? You some sort of paedo or something?’
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ I said. ‘Answer the question.’
‘She’s six,’ she said eventually. ‘She loves The Little Mermaid. Ariel and all that.’
I sighed. What difference did it make? I handed her the figure. ‘Give that to Precious. And tell her happy birthday from the paedo in the toyshop.’
Pearl stared at me for a long time. ‘I don’t owe you nothing.’ It was almost said as a challenge.
‘We must speak about your terrible language skills at some point,’ I said, then shook my head. ‘No, you don’t owe me anything. Take the toy and leave.’
I thrust it into her hand, suddenly sick of the whole conversation. By the time I had sat down again, she had gone.
I thought that would be the last time I saw Pearl Tulip.
But I was wrong.
She came back the next week and tried to give me some money for The Little Mermaid. I refused.
‘You probably nicked it,’ I explained. ‘I don’t want to become your money launderer.’
At first it seemed she was going to take offence, something her ge
neration seem very good at, but she saw the curl of a smile on my lips and put the money away.
I had been boiling the kettle and I asked her if she wanted a cuppa. We took the drinks to the table by the window and sat opposite each other. She indicated to the almost finished tractor on the bench.
‘How long does it take?’ she asked. ‘From start to finish?’
I shrugged.
‘As long as it has to, I suppose. This one has taken me about a week, but I don’t hurry. I work on them until I think they’re done. I have plenty of time.’
She nodded and sipped her tea.
‘Did Precious like her present?’ I asked after a while.
Pearl grinned and I felt something I had never felt before. Something strange. It seemed to steal through my frozen heart. It seemed to warm it.
I frowned, trying to work out what the feeling was, but it was elusive. I didn’t know then of course, what Pearl would come to mean to me.
‘She loved it,’ she enthused. ‘Said it was the best present she’d ever had. ’Course, it probably was, seeing as she’s never really had that many.’
I didn’t ask why at that point. I was still trying to work out the feelings this young girl had seemingly awoken in me.
We sat in a companionable enough silence for a while, before she finished her tea and stood to leave.
She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Rob,’ I answered without thinking.
‘See you then, Rob,’ she said, waving goodbye with a flick of her hand. The bell above the door tinkled, and she was gone.
I sat for a long time as my tea got cold, searching myself for what her presence had brought up within me. Then I shrugged and got on with completing the tractor.
She came back the next day for another cup of tea. And the next.
Before long, I had handed her a work apron and I was showing her how to carve some basic pieces; just simple figurines at the beginning, but quickly moving onto more complicated work.
I watched her, smiling, over the next few months. She was good. She had an eye for the natural grain of the wood and before long she was creating completely new figures. We painted and varnished them, and I placed them on the shelves next to my own.
‘The first one sold is mine,’ I told her. ‘It’ll cover the money you owe me, but anything after that, the profit will go to you. After tax, of course.’
She was delighted. Her figures became quite popular and I ended up handing over a decent amount of money. Nothing to me, but for Pearl it was a fortune.
It was still the school holidays when she had first come in and her visits had become a daily occurrence. She continued to call in on evenings and weekends when school started again. Over her time in my shop I began to find out about her and her life. It wasn’t that pleasant.
Her father had come from Ghana and had met her mother at a local nightclub. She quickly fell pregnant with Pearl. They had very little money, so they moved into a bit of a desperate tower block where assorted criminals and drug dealers haunted the desolate walkways day and night.
When Precious was born, her father, a complete bastard by the sound of him, had upped and left. He reappeared every now and again, but those visits were usually not pleasant. He was a violent man and Pearl’s mother had suffered from his fists on numerous occasions.
The last time he had entered their lives he had broken her mother’s nose and Pearl had tried to defend her, earning herself a beating too. He had disappeared after that and Pearl had no idea where he was now, and certainly didn’t care. She hadn’t heard anything from him for three years and hoped she would never meet him again.
Her mother had struggled on, working in a laundromat during the day and a pub at night. Pearl had grown up quickly, looking after her little sister when she got in from school, making her meals, putting her to bed. She had turned into a surrogate mother for Precious and their bond was very close.
I said nothing as she told me this. I didn’t know how to respond. I’d lived a life of such extreme loneliness that I had no words of comfort for someone who had seen so much of the bad side of the world from such an early age. I just nodded, but that strange feeling in my heart seemed to twist with anger and despair at her story.
One day after school, she brought Precious into the shop.
She was a tiny double of her big sister and she stood with wide eyes, holding Pearl’s hand as I showed her a figure I had just finished. It was of a princess and she was captivated with it. When they left I gave it to her, and she took it and hugged my leg.
I stiffened at this contact at first. But then I put my hand on her head and ruffled her hair.
‘Thank you,’ she said, politely.
I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard as that strange feeling rushed through me again. It was weird. They both had the same effect on me.
‘You’re welcome,’ I managed.
After they had gone I sat back at the worktable, staring into nothing and frowning. I shook my head.
What the hell was happening to me?
XXVI
One day, almost a year after our first encounter, Pearl came, as usual, into the shop. I frowned at the sight of her. I had noticed changes in her appearance for a while, and they were worrying me for some reason. I wondered why that was. What was she to me? But I worried all the same.
She seemed to be losing weight. Not much, but noticeable. She had strange bruises on her arms and once, while we were having one of our cups of tea together, her nose suddenly started bleeding and it took ages to stop the flow. Her visits had become less frequent of late, and when I asked her why she said she ‘had a cold’.
Yes. I worried about her, and I wondered at that worry.
Why was I bothered? They were all pointless. They all just buzzed around me like droning flies, so why should I care about a few bruises and a bit of weight loss?
I didn’t know why. I just did.
On that day, she came in and smiled a wan smile at me.
‘Want a cuppa?’ I asked and she nodded but, when I went into the back room, I heard a thump and a gasp of pain. I ran back into the shop to find her slumped on the floor, her nose bleeding again. This time, it wouldn’t seem to stop. I was beginning to panic slightly at the force of the flow. The floor was awash, and I started to think I would have to call for an ambulance but, slowly, it began to ease and eventually stopped.
I sat her down at the table and got her a glass of water which she lifted to her mouth with trembling fingers.
‘What the hell’s wrong with you, Pearl?’ I asked her. ‘Look at you. You’re not well. Have you seen a doctor recently?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, I’ve just had a bit of a bug recently. Can’t seem to shake it. I’ll be fine.’
‘You need to see a doctor,’ I repeated.
She frowned at me, seemingly annoyed at my insistence. ‘What’s it to you?’ she asked, defiantly.
I kept quiet, and she seemed to soften
‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I’m not myself right now. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.’
I nodded, but I wondered at her words. What was it to me?
‘Come on,’ I said, eventually. ‘I’ll give you a lift home.’
Pearl usually came into town on the bus, but I was worried her nose might start bleeding again so I drove her, the first time I had seen where she lived. We stopped outside the block of flats. Pearl saw me looking around the desolate landscape.
‘Not like your place, is it.’
I just smiled.
It wasn’t. It was pretty bleak. We were parked beside what had once been a playground but was now deserted and dusty. Broken glass littered the ground, accompanied by the odd used condom.
Pearl made to get out of the car but froze when she spotted a figure approaching.
‘Shit,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
She turned to me, fear in her eyes.
�
��It’s my dad.’
She got out to face the man coming towards us. He was a well-built guy of about forty, with a shaved head and what seemed like a permanent frown on his face. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a white t-shirt. A huge, chunky, gold necklace decorated his bull-like neck. I got out too and stood beside Pearl as he stopped in front of us. His eyes were a yellowish colour and his breath stank of booze.
‘Where’s your mother?’ he growled at Pearl. Four years. He hadn’t seen his daughter in almost four years, and this was his opening gambit.
Pearl stood her ground, although I could see she was frightened. ‘She ain’t here. She’s at work. She don’t want to see you.’
‘I don’t care if she don’t want to see me,’ he said. He had a strong African accent that seemed to drip with sarcasm. ‘I want to see my wife.’
Pearl said nothing and he took a threatening step towards her. I stood forward and he halted, staring at me.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ he snarled. ‘You her boyfriend or something?’
The idea was preposterous to me but I could see why he might think that. I only looked about four or five years older than Pearl.
‘No, I’m just a friend. But I don’t think Pearl wants to talk to you, and she’s already told you her mother isn’t here. Maybe you should just leave.’
He looked at me with an exaggerated demonstration of disdain.
‘This got nothing to do with you, motherfucker. Move out the way. I want to talk to my girl here.’ He grinned at Pearl. His teeth were as yellow as his eyes. He seemed like he was high on something.
‘No.’ I said. ‘Just leave, eh? Do us all a favour.’
I could sense the old anger bubbling up inside me. It had been a while since I last felt its touch, but I had to clench my fists to keep my hands from his throat as it coursed through me now.
Who the hell did he think he was? Threatening, bullying. Frightening his own daughter with his menacing presence. I tried to keep myself calm.
