The Night Rainbow

by Claire King

  I am feeling better and dizzy at the same time.

  Yuck! says Margot.

  What?

  This.

  Margot holds out her arm. She has got a tick on her. I know what ticks look like because the cats that visit our house sometimes get them, and once Maman got one on her too. This tick is near Margot’s shoulder and it is like an old yellow pea. It has got eight wiggly red legs near her skin. We do like insects normally, but I think it is rude that ticks want to drink your blood and I don’t like the way their bodies look when they are stuck on.

  Maman doesn’t either. When she got the tick on her she screamed. I found her in the bathroom, looking back at herself over her shoulder. She was holding up her hair with one hand. The tick was on the back of her shoulder.

  What is it? I asked her.

  Don’t worry, Sweet Pea, she said. It’s just a tick.

  It looks like a fat insect, I said. But it has eight legs, I’ve counted them. Does it hurt?

  No, it doesn’t hurt. I didn’t mean to scream, sorry. I was just surprised.

  Do you want me to brush it off? I said.

  It won’t come off, she said, we have to do it carefully. We have to get Papa.

  But Papa was out at work, so we had to go and fetch him. She couldn’t wait until he got home. We went together, quite slowly. She wasn’t as fat as she is now, but she still had a round belly. It was the other baby was in there. The girl baby. The not-good-enough one that we didn’t get to keep. As we went, Maman was shouting. Amaury? Amaury! It didn’t take us long to find him. He was only in the peaches and he hurried over when he saw us. Maman went soft against him and he kissed her forehead. Papa wanted to pinch the tick off with his fingernails, but Maman had brought tweezers with her.

  When the tick was off, Papa put it on the floor and trod on it. That killed it, and then Papa showed us what was left. There was hardly any tick at all, just a splat of Maman’s blood on the ground. I crouched down to look at it and Papa came down next to me.

  Make sure Maman puts some antiseptic on when you get her home, he said.

  I promise, I said. Then I got a head-kiss too.

  OK, I say to Margot, I will be Papa and I will get it off you.

  Margot holds her arm out. Use the tweezers, she says, not just your fingers.

  Of course, I say, I have the tweezers. There is nothing to worry about.

  And there isn’t. I get it off first time and drop it on the floor. It is too fat with Margot to run away, so together we stomp on the tick. Like a stompy dance.

  Ooh, says Margot, look at the blood!

  Yes, lots of blood. That tick must have drunk nearly all of you up. It’s a good job I got it off.

  Thank you for looking after me, Pea, she says.

  You’re welcome, I say.

  Chapter 22

  We have fed the chickens and brought the bread up to the house. We have had our breakfast and waited for Maman for a long time, but it got very boring and I want to go and see Claude, so I have tidied away our breakfast things and left the table set for Maman.

  We are trotting down through the peach trees on our horses, jumping over logs and winding through the trees. The edges of the teardrop leaves are already turning orange. Margot looks back at me over her shoulder.

  My horse is dappled grey and it is called Bolter. What’s yours called?

  Saskia, I say. And she is black like Black Beauty.

  As we get down towards the road I hear a strange noise. It sounds like someone calling my name and I stop to listen.

  Come on, says Margot, giddy up!

  Don’t you hear that? I say. Isn’t that Maman shouting?

  I doubt it, says Margot. We did all the jobs. What else would she want you for?

  Maybe she got another tick?

  Could be. Margot gets off her horse and pats his neck. I do the same. Let’s leave our horses here, she says, so they don’t fight with the donkeys. We can go and see Claude and not take long. Then we will go back up and check if Maman has a tick.

  Yes, I say, that’s a good idea, because I really want to see Claude and check again about him being our papa.

  We cross the road and climb the gate into the low meadow. I can see Claude, right down at the bottom of the path.

  Look! says Margot. He brought his elephant-tracking knife!

  Claude is slicing at the brambles, cutting away the loops and trailing parts. As he swishes them, the bushes are getting flat edges, and thorny bits, blackberries and little brown punaises patter on to the path. Even the ripe blackberries are getting chopped.

  Oh no! I say.

  Let’s go and save the blackberries! says Margot.

  Definitely! I say, and we run down the hill. Claude hasn’t heard us yet.

  Peony!

  I stop running and turn. It really is Maman. She is by the gate and she is waving her arms over her head.

  Peony!

  I must be in big trouble for something, although I can’t think what it is. Unless Maman really has got a tick too. But even if she has I don’t know how to help her. My tweezers are only pretend ones and I’m still only five years old.

  Maman walks slowly down the path. I stand still and watch her coming.

  Peony, come here! she shouts. But I’m scared. After only a few steps she stops and leans against an oak tree. She presses her head against the trunk and her shoulders go up and down.

  Is she cross or sad? I ask Margot.

  She looks sad, maybe, says Margot. Or else sick.

  We’d better go and see.

  Yes, Margot agrees.

  We turn around and start back up the path towards her. We don’t run.

  As we get closer I can see there really is something wrong with Maman; she has walked a few more steps but has stopped again. Tears are running down her face and she is roaring like a lion. It is worse than the day she attacked the tractor with the peaches.

  Margot grabs at my arm. Don’t, she says.

  Margot, is Maman after us?

  I don’t know, says Margot. We should ask Claude; he will know what to do.

  Margot takes my hand and we pelt back down the path to get Claude. He is still cutting the brambles.

  Claude! I shout.

  Swish, chop.

  He seems cross with the brambles.

  Claude! Margot shouts.

  Chop, swish.

  They scratched him a lot, it’s true.

  Claude!

  If Merlin had been here he would have been barking by now.

  Swish, chop.

  We are really close now, my breath is puffing. I reach out my arms so I can stop myself against his legs.

  Chop, swish.

  Claude! I shout.

  At the same time, behind us, Maman shouts, Peony! Peony!

  We are so loud that even Claude can hear us now, and he looks up from the brambles, turning to see where the noise is coming from. But his knife is still swinging.

  Swish.

  And we are still running.

  And it is too late to stop.

  I see the knife coming straight towards my face.

  Chapter 23

  Blood is pouring from my forehead like rain. It falls into my mouth, sticky and surprising. Maman is running towards me. Her face has opened so wide it looks as though the sunlight is coming right out of her. Her eyes are saying, Sorry, sorry, sorry, and she is still screaming my name. Beside me, Claude is shouting Oh! Oh! Oh! The noises swirl together and behind my eyes it bangs.

  Maman’s arms are stretched forward as though she is trying to catch me. I open my mouth to say something, but my breath is sucked out of me like a slamming door. Margot lets go of my hand and I feel myself fall away from her, backwards on to the path.

  I am caught by gentle hands. There is a lot of quiet. I am in a beautiful white place, it is smiling at me. The air is happy and cool. I’m so comfy, maybe I am on a cloud, or tucked in under a cloud. It’s hard to say. It doesn’t really matter. I feel dozy and li
ght and that is good enough.

  Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

  I don’t want to wake up.

  Peony, you have to wake up. Peony, open your eyes. Come back to me, Pea.

  Maman is walking in the whiteness; she is calling for me.

  It would be nice to walk with Maman. Or not.

  Peony, look at me. Peony, don’t leave me!

  The whiteness is colouring in, I can feel my body wrapped in body. Am I somehow back in Maman’s belly? I reach out but there is no baby here, just softness. My head is aching, my mouth tastes sour. I pull back, I want the happy place again.

  Peony! Peony! Peony!

  It is Maman. I am laid against her by the gate to the meadow. She is curled around me, her hand pressed against my forehead. She is holding a rag against me that smells like Claude. It is hot and wet. I feel dizzy.

  Stay here, stay here, Pea, she whispers. They’re coming to get us, it won’t be long.

  Witches? I say. Do we have to run?

  Not witches, Pea. Help. Help is coming. Hold on, baby.

  We are in the sun on the road. Sitting like we are having a picnic. Maman has her arms around me. I still feel like I am being sucked back inside her. I’m thirsty. A car stops by my feet. The wheels are silver stars.

  We are in a car with the windows open. I am leaning against Maman. Her dress is red with my blood. She will be cross. Everything smudges together, washing in and out like the sea. I close my eyes to make it stop.

  We are away from the village, passing big buildings all blurry through the windows. Claude is driving. He has no shirt on. His face is a grey mountain and his tears are the streams.

  Papa is carrying me against his hairy chest. He smells salty like Windy Hill. His big arms are around my back and under my legs and his big rough hand is holding my head. Hold on, Pea, he whispers and his breath is a warm breeze. There are voices all around, and far away. Shouting.

  I love you, Papa, I say, but he does not reply.

  Chapter 24

  The hospital is white and smells of mops. I am lying on a bed staring up at a square light on the ceiling, and at the hairs in the doctor’s nose. He wiggles his fingers at me and peers into my eyes, which are blurry with tears but I don’t remember crying.

  Maman is by the bed, singing. She does not know the words and is making up the song as she goes along. One song spills into another and she does not stop. She grips my hand tight, leant over the bed, whispering. I’m sorry, Pea. I’m sorry, Pea. I’m sorry. Her own tears fall on to my belly.

  When we got here there were lots of injections. The first one went right into the cut that Claude made with the elephant knife. It hurt much more than the knife did. After that I was sewn up like torn trousers. The nurse gave me a syringe to play with and I injected everybody, but the game wasn’t so much fun because being sewn up was tuggy and scary and made me feel sick.

  I still feel quite sick.

  The doctor sits me up slowly.

  OK, Little Fighter, he says, you’re all set. And he turns to Maman.

  It’s a lot of blood, he says. They’re like that, heads, but your daughter only has a scratch. He looks at me.

  You’re lucky it was only the flat part that hit you, he says. You’ll not go running up behind people again, now will you?

  No, I whisper.

  The doctor looks back at Maman. She is going to have a big bruise, he says. Keep an eye on her, if she is sick or …

  He stops because the nurse is jiggling his elbow and nodding at the floor. We all look down. Maman is standing in a sudden puddle.

  Chapter 25

  Pablo is here. After Maman wet her knickers in the doctor’s room, they took her away for him to be born. I got taken to a room with a bed and a television and a lady brought my dinner on a tray. There was bread, a yoghurt, a peach, and some meat with vegetables. Claude stayed with me while I sat up in my bed and ate my dinner and watched television, and sometimes looked out of the window into the car park where people in cars came and went.

  I’m sorry, Pea, he kept saying, which was quite boring really.

  Does my bandage look good or stupid? I asked him. And then, Is that knife really for hunting elephants? Because I have been wondering if that was a made-up story. Claude didn’t want to talk about his knife.

  After dinner, a lady in pink clothes came to fetch me and take me to Maman and Claude went home to fetch us our suitcases.

  Maman is sitting up in bed. Pablo is asleep next to her in a plastic cot called a bassinette. He is orangy-coloured and his hair is black. He doesn’t really look like a proper baby.

  I sit on the bottom of the bed and Maman holds my hand. Can I see your tummy? I ask her.

  My tummy? Yes, OK, but why?

  I was just wondering if the door is still there now that Pablo has come out.

  The door? But Maman lifts her nightshirt and I lay my hand on her belly. Maman jumps a little as though I have tickled her. There is no door, not even any sign of one having been there. Her belly is much smaller now, and squashy. How did Pablo get out? I ask.

  Pablo was in a hurry to come out, she says. He wanted to meet his sister. The doctor helped.

  She pauses a while and reaches out for me, one hand around my middle and the other raking back my hair gently so she can see the bandage on my forehead.

  I’m so sorry, Pea, she says again.

  It wasn’t your fault, I say. It wasn’t Claude’s either really; he’s deaf you know?

  Maman shakes her head sadly.

  I mean I’m sorry I left you all alone.

  I wasn’t on my own, Maman. I had Margot.

  What did you say? Maman asks, and then Claude walks in through the open door.

  Hello, Pea, he says, and hands me a baby doll, pink and round-headed and still in its box. It looks like a proper baby, and it is a girl. I get down from the bed and hug Claude around his legs. He doesn’t hug me back. Still.

  She was with me, too, he says to Maman.

  Well that’s quite far from a consolation, says Maman, her voice staying quiet but at the same time getting shouty.

  I tried, says Claude. I knew how it might appear. I did try to speak to you. I thought maybe my keeping an eye on Peony would be the next best thing.

  She’s a little girl, says Maman. It’s not normal!

  Claude’s face is getting angry but his voice stays quiet too. Pablo is sleeping.

  Your daughter has been running around in the meadow all summer, he says. She plays hide and seek with herself. I found her alone under a tree in the middle of a hailstorm. For God’s sake she even has to make up imaginary friends so she doesn’t get too lonely. I know that it’s not easy for you but Pivoine needs her mother.

  What did you call her? Maman says, with glassy eyes.

  I called her Pivoine.

  Her name is Peony.

  Actually, my name is Pea, I say.

  I’m sorry, Pea, says Claude. Is Margot here?

  No, I say. Margot is gone.

  Maman has a white face and her kaleidoscope eyes are looking at me through tears.

  I know I have done something very bad this time.

  Claude looks at Maman, and looks at me. I hang my head and look at my shoes.

  The baby that … you lost, he says finally.

  I don’t think she was lost, I say, she was … but Claude is shaking his head at me. Maman is crying a flood of tears, her shoulders shaking, her face red and her nose running. Pablo is still fast asleep.

  I go back over to the bed, slowly.

  I’m sorry, Maman, I whisper.

  Maman opens her arms. I charge at her, knocking her back against her pillows. She hugs me tight against her whole soft-bellied self.

  No, she says, I’m sorry.

  I climb back up and curl up on Maman’s lap as though I am a cat. Maman strokes my hair and my eyes fall closed. A cool breeze from the open window blows across my face. While I doze I can hear their whispered voices above me.

 
; I’m a father.

  I’m her mother.

  I didn’t want to see you lose her.

  Will you stop staring at me?

  I’m reading your lips.

  Oh.

  I lost my hearing in the car crash.

  Oh.

  No one should lose a child. I should know.

  You lost a child?

  My whole family.

  Oh. I’m sorry. Maman is quiet.

  I know I’m no picture, but I mean well.

  OK.

  Look, we all know that Amaury’s mother wants the farm back. Even if many people think you’re a bit stuck-up, no one wants to see you kicked out. Amaury loved you. But you have to make some friends if you’re going to stay here.

  Maman is quiet again. So quiet I can hear Claude breathing.

  Maybe you could start with me? he says.

  Maman has to stay in the hospital for a week. I am allowed to stay with her, in her room, because there is no one to look after me at home, although I think I would be OK. I have a bed in the corner and Pablo has his bassinette right next to me. Pablo sleeps quite a lot and when he does Maman sleeps quite a lot too and I watch her. She lies on her belly and she sighs small sighs. Her eyelids flicker.

  Every day the doctors and nurses come in to look after Maman. They take her temperature with thermometers and her blood presser with a pumpy sleeve and stethoscopes and they give her medicine because she has some aches and pains. And they do other things too. Because of this I don’t have as many questions as I used to and I can tell you now that actually ladies do NOT have a door where the people go in and out. The truth is stranger than that.

  Pablo was a success. He is all finished, except for his belly button and we are finishing that off together. Every day Maman cleans the place where his belly button is going to be and I pass her gauze to wrap around it. And we bathe Pablo in the big sink. We scoop water up on to his head, which is fuzzy like the skin on a peach. Maman says he looks like Papa, which is the silliest thing that she has ever said. Papa was tall and had a bristly chin and rode on tractors. Pablo is so tiny he has baths in the sink, he is a funny orange colour and his skin doesn’t fit yet. He really looks nothing like Papa at all.