by Nicole Trope
‘But Mum,’ says Beth, her eyes filling with tears that quickly spill down her cheeks.
‘I tell you what, Beth,’ says Ben, standing up, ‘I think that just for tonight and just because you have your new friend Pinky, you can watch television while you eat dinner. That will be fun, won’t it? Maybe I can find the Trolls movie on Netflix.’
‘Maybe Pinky is in the movie!’ shouts Beth, her tears drying instantly.
Ben looks over at his wife, worried that she might protest, but she is staring down at her plate again. He picks up Beth’s plate and takes her to her playroom, where she has a television. He sets her up with a small tray table and finds something for her to watch when he can’t find Trolls, convincing her that it will be on some other time.
Returning to the table, he slides silently into his seat, watching his wife, unsure of what to say, unsure if there is anything he can say that will make things better for her.
Rachel eats little and is mostly silent.
‘You okay?’ he finally asks quietly.
‘Fine.’ Rachel sighs and then she wipes her cheek and blows her nose, giving up all pretence of eating. ‘Mum didn’t really wake up today.’
‘That’s not… I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ he says and he leans across to touch her hand but Rachel stands up quickly.
‘I feel like she’s gone already… like… I don’t know,’ she says picking up her plate, her tears returning.
Ben takes his own plate over to the garbage and scrapes off the remains of his dinner. ‘Why don’t you sit down and let me do this?’ he says.
‘No… no, I’m… I’m okay to clean up but could you… could you just get Beth to bed? I’m not really…’
‘Of course,’ he replies eagerly, pleased to have some concrete way to help, ‘of course, don’t worry about it.’
Beth sits Pinky on the side of the bath to watch while she builds a soap tower out of frothed coconut-scented bubble bath. Ben sits next to the bath, listening to her talk to the little doll.
‘And I’m gonna build you a house and you can have a bed and a swimming pool like Charlotte has...’
He tries to prevent himself from looking at his phone as it buzzes in his pocket with incoming emails. His daughter lies on her stomach and kicks her legs in the tub.
Once she’s in bed, Beth holds the doll up to him. ‘Mum doesn’t like Pinky,’ she says.
‘Of course she does, Beth. She’s just a little sad tonight. Everyone gets sad sometimes.’
‘Is Mum sad because Nana is sick?’
‘She is because she loves Nana. We all love Nana and we don’t like it that she’s sick.’
‘I love Nana a million billion,’ says Beth.
‘I know you do, darling, now lie down and I’ll snuggle you.’
‘You lie down with me,’ she says as he tucks her pink duvet tightly around her the way she likes.
He angles his body next to hers, revelling in the strawberry and coconut smell of her. She turns off her light and together they watch as their eyes adjust and the moon and stars appear on her ceiling. He will lie next to her until he can hear she is asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling, just the way his father did for him and Lou when they were little.
‘Mum cried today,’ Beth says softly.
‘I know, baby. Mum’s very sad about Nana.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think she was crying because of Nana. I think she was crying because of the monster.’
‘The monster?’
Beth turns on her side so she can look at him. She puts her little hands on his face and whispers, ‘There was a monster here in the night. He tried to get into my room to eat me all up but Mum called the police. Then she cried and cried and I think she cried today because she’s scared of the monster even though she said there wasn’t a monster. I know there was.’ She lets go of his face and turns away from him. ‘I know there was,’ she whispers again before she puts her thumb in her mouth.
‘What monster? When was this?’ Ben asks quickly. But Beth doesn’t reply and her even breathing tells him she’s asleep. He gets off her bed feeling queasy. Rachel told him Beth was asleep when she called the police. The police said there was no evidence of anyone in the house. What was Beth talking about?
Downstairs Rachel is flicking through channels on the television. ‘I’m going to go back and spend some time with Mum in a few minutes,’ she says when he joins her.
‘Um, yeah… Rach… Beth just told me the strangest thing.’
‘What’s that?’ says Rachel, her eyes on the television.
‘She told me you cried today because of the monster who was in the house. She said he tried to get into her room.’
‘What?’
‘She said that a monster made you cry today. A monster who was here in the night. I think she means a couple of nights ago, obviously, but I thought… I thought she wasn’t awake for that?’
Rachel shakes her head. ‘She wasn’t. I made certain. You know she wasn’t or she would have been awake when you got home. Anyway, as the police pointed out, there was no one here. What a strange thing for her to say to say – she’s obviously seen something on television or something, don’t you think? She wasn’t… she wasn’t awake. I know she wasn’t.’ Rachel speaks quickly, almost babbling, listing all the reasons Beth may have been mistaken.
Ben lays a hand on her arm and she stops speaking, finally taking a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid I did shed a few tears in the car when I picked her up from school. I’d just been to see Mum and I thought about how sad it was that Beth will never see her again.’
Ben nods. ‘That’s okay. It’s just that she might have been awake and then maybe we should talk to her about it? Maybe just let her know that we thought someone was here but that the police came and everything is safe.’
He strokes her arm as he speaks, conscious of her darting eyes and the stiffness in her body.
‘Maybe, but I don’t want to worry her. I want her to know her home is safe. She should feel safe.’
‘I’m sure she feels safe, Rach. She’s always safe with us.’
‘Yes, she is,’ says Rachel, nodding her head. ‘I think we should just leave it now, just let it be over.’
‘Okay,’ says Ben slowly. He would like to ask his wife why she doesn’t want to discuss what happened or the fact that Beth may have heard more than she thinks, but she seems so fragile right now. He’s afraid to push her. And she’s probably right. Beth has a child’s imagination. She sat in the bath earlier and talked to Pinky as though the little doll was engaged in the conversation. She told him that the fairies in the park leave little flowers as presents for her. She could have simply imagined the monster. Telling her about the police coming might frighten her.
He slouches down onto the sofa as Rachel stands up so she can leave to go and see her mother. He’s making more of this than he should, he’s sure of it.
‘Give her my love – I mean if she wakes up, tell her we’re all thinking of her and we love her.’
Rachel nods, walking towards the kitchen to get her bag.
‘Are you sure she was asleep, Rach?’ He cannot help asking once more because for some reason he doesn’t believe his wife.
‘Absolutely sure,’ says Rachel, her tone clipped.
Ben doesn’t say anything else. He listens as she leaves the house, the garage door sliding up, her car reversing, and only when he hears her roar off down the street does he relax, wondering why he doesn’t believe what she’s saying.
Why doesn’t he believe her?
11
Little Bird
On Saturday night Mummy and I watch a movie on television. It’s about a nanny who comes to take care of two little children. Mummy says that she loved the movie when she was a little girl just like me, and so now I love it too. ‘No story time tonight,’ says Mummy at the end and I know that means I can read my new book but only for a few minutes. Mummy is tired today because she cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.
> She only stopped cleaning to change the bandage on her cheek when a bit of blood came. ‘I was so silly,’ she told me this morning, ‘I opened the bathroom cabinet to get my toothpaste and I hit myself,’ and then she laughed and I laughed as well even though my laugh wasn’t a real laugh. I don’t think a cut on your cheek is funny.
‘You need sleep to grow so you can only read for a bit,’ Mummy says. I think Kevin must have slept a lot when he was seven years old because he’s nearly as tall as Daddy now. He has the same colour hair as Daddy too and brown eyes. Black-brown eyes that look mean. I think Kevin has mean eyes.
I go quietly up the stairs because Daddy is working in his office and he doesn’t like noise. That’s why me and Mummy had to make the television soft, soft but we could still hear most of the talking. When I get to my room, I see that Daddy is not in his office. He is in my room looking at my dollies lined up on the windowsill. They are all in a straight line, neat and tidy, just the way they are supposed to be. I feel my tummy fill up with scared and I look around my room quickly. My bed is made, the covers smooth, the pillow lying on top with the folded blanket. My heart jumps anyway because Daddy is sitting on the floor and then he turns and looks at me. My room is clean and sparkling but Daddy looks upset. I wonder if some mess is hiding somewhere. Daddy is good at spotting things that are hiding.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ I say slowly. I don’t like it when he comes into my room without me. My room is my favourite place because I’m allowed to close the door but not lock it. It has a light pink carpet and dark pink curtains because I told Mummy that pink was my favourite colour, and for my last birthday, she took all the Little Bird stickers off the wall that she put up when I was a baby and painted it white with a little bit of pink. Daddy didn’t help her but she didn’t mind. Then she painted butterflies all over one wall. Big ones and small ones. Some are sitting on flowers and some are flying in the air. They have patterns on their wings and so many colours I can’t count them all. Sometimes, one of our little secrets is that Mummy will call me a pretty butterfly. She only calls me that when it’s just the two of us because she knows that Daddy likes me to be his Little Bird. I like to think of myself with wings covered in colours.
‘Amazing how far a degree in fine art can take you,’ Daddy said when he saw my room and then he laughed but it wasn’t a happy laugh and Mummy didn’t laugh with him. She just looked at her shoes. I don’t think Daddy likes the wall of butterflies but I love it and I told Mummy it was the best birthday present ever. I don’t think Daddy should come into my room if he doesn’t like the wall of butterflies.
I am not allowed in his and Mummy’s room unless Mummy is there. I am not allowed in Kevin’s room ever, ever. But Daddy is allowed to go into any room he likes. I stand quietly and wait for him to tell me where the mess is hiding. I don’t think he’s here to read me a story. Daddy doesn’t read stories to children.
‘I thought you loved these dollies,’ he says.
‘I do,’ I say, nodding my head. ‘I love them all.’ They are my special dollies with ugly faces but big smiles and beautiful coloured hair. I have twenty-nine of them. Daddy buys them for me all the time and Mummy does too because they are small. Every night Mummy and I count them together and that’s why I am the best counter in my class and I always get ten out of ten on my maths test.
‘Then why,’ he says, ‘don’t you treat them nicely? Look at how messy they are, and see here, these two, just lying on the floor?’
I look at them lined up neatly on the big windowsill and I can’t see that they are messy, but if Daddy says they are messy, then they are. Then I look where he is pointing, behind my side table, where two dollies had gone on a little holiday. I forgot they were on holiday when I tidied everything up. I open my mouth to explain but then I close it again. Daddy won’t understand about a dolly holiday.
Daddy stares and stares and waits for me to say something. ‘Maybe they fell off. They were next to the others,’ I whisper. My face gets hot and I know it’s turning red. It always turns red when I tell a lie. Daddy will know I’m lying and he doesn’t like liars.
‘I don’t think they fell off, Little Bird. I think you left them on the floor after you were done playing with them even though you know that things need to be kept neat and tidy. Even though you know that if you love something, you must take care of it.’
‘I’ll tidy them up, Daddy, I promise,’ I say quickly. My cheeks feel burning and I want to cry. Daddy smiles at me and then he picks up one of my dollies and shows it to me. It’s the mermaid one with the silvery pink tail and blue hair and it’s one of my favourites. She wanted to go on holiday so she could swim in the sea. ‘I don’t think you love this one enough. She was just lying there on the floor like you didn’t care about her at all.’
‘But I do care, Daddy. I’m sorry. I’ll never forget her on the floor again.’
‘I think you’re lying about that, Little Bird, and I hate liars.’ He wraps his big hand around the mermaid’s head. He twists and pulls until it snaps right off.
‘No, Daddy, no!’ I shout. But the doll is broken. Daddy throws it on the floor and then he grabs me by my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin. ‘Don’t raise your voice at me, don’t you ever raise your voice at me,’ he hisses.
‘Sorry,’ I say and my tears splash onto my shoes and my nose starts to run. I can feel my heart inside me, trying to burst out because I am so sad for my dolly and so scared of Daddy.
‘What’s going on, Len?’ says Mummy, and I turn and see her standing in the doorway.
‘What’s going on is that you still haven’t managed to teach your daughter how to keep things neat and tidy, and I have been so patient, so patient with both of you.’
‘I’m sorry, Len. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘I believe you,’ says Daddy and he stands up and pats me on the head. ‘Don’t cry, Little Bird, I’m sure you won’t leave your dollies in a mess again.’
I nod my head.
‘Let’s have a drink,’ he says to Mummy, and she looks at me and her eyes are sad and I know she wants to stay with me. But then she turns and goes downstairs with him.
I sit down on the floor and look at my broken dolly, who is still smiling at me. I hear a sound from downstairs, a thump, a crack, and I know Mummy will have a sore head again. Maybe she forgot to make everything clean and sparkling as well. Mummy has a sore head a lot on the weekend. Daddy stays home from work and he makes sure that everything is just right. That’s how he likes things to be, he says – just right.
I make sure all my dollies are in a straight, straight line on the windowsill and then I brush my teeth and change into pyjamas and I climb into bed, holding my broken little mermaid. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper to her, and she smiles and smiles and I know she forgives me. I close my eyes and I hope that Mummy’s head won’t be too sore tomorrow. I hate the weekend when Daddy is home all the time, just looking, looking for hiding mess. Kevin doesn’t hate the weekend because he doesn’t come home. He goes to his friend’s house for a sleepover and he only comes home on Sunday night. Kevin’s room is always clean and sparkling because he’s never here for a long time.
He rides his bike to his friend’s house, and when he comes back, he always makes sure that the bike is put away in its special place in the garage. It’s not a very nice bike. Kevin found it on the side of the road and he cleaned it very carefully and painted it and put some special oil on the chain, but it’s still not a very nice bike. He used to have a nice bike. It was shiny and red and he got it for his eleventh birthday but one day he came home and put it in the garage but he didn’t stand it up straight enough. Daddy showed him how to make sure the bike is standing straight so he won’t scratch his car when he puts it in the garage. He didn’t scratch his car but he still didn’t like that the bike wasn’t standing up straight enough so he pulled the bicycle out of the garage. Then he called Kevin and he made him watch while he drove his big car over Kevin’
s bike.
Kevin got tears in his eyes. I remember even though I was only five because I had never seen Kevin get tears in his eyes before. He didn’t shout and he didn’t say anything. After he rode over the bike, Daddy got out of the car and said, ‘You left me no choice, Kevin.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Kevin. Daddy likes Kevin to call him sir. ‘It’s what I called my father. It’s a mark of respect,’ he told Mummy. I am allowed to call him Daddy but maybe when I am big like Kevin, I will have to call him sir too.
I felt some sorry inside myself for Kevin. He really loved his shiny red bike. After Daddy went back in the house, Kevin sat on the ground next to his bike and patted the smooshed white seat. Mummy tried to give him a hug but he didn’t want her to hug him.
‘Just leave me alone,’ he said. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want a hug from Mummy because she gives the best hugs. I always want Mummy to hug me.
When I am nearly asleep, I hear Mummy come into my room. She puts a soft kiss on my forehead and whispers, ‘I’m sorry, Little Bird. I am so sorry.’
12
Kevin
‘Can you tell me about the house you lived in when you were a child?’ Dr Sharma says.
Dr Sharma is really starting to disappoint me. I thought she would try something different but I’ve had this question from at least three different doctors. I don’t think I would have seen any doctors if the school hadn’t told my father it was necessary. I started seeing the school psychologist at fourteen and then she ran out of options, calling my father in and telling him I needed professional help.
Her name was Ingrid and we were allowed to call her Ingrid, instead of Miss Andrews. Her office was covered in hundreds of inspirational signs. The only way is up. It’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Find your passion. If you believe, you can achieve anything. Life is tough but so are you. He believed he could so he did. Mistakes are proof you’re trying. Live, Laugh, Love. They covered the walls all the way to the ceiling, and when my father was sitting next to me, opposite Ingrid as she explained slowly that my anger issues would affect the rest of my life if I didn’t learn to control myself, I watched my father’s eyes roam up and down the walls. He didn’t even let her finish talking.
