When Lennie poured a cup of tea last Wednesday he didn’t stop when he got to the rim like a normal person might, he kept pouring until it was all over the table. One had to grab his hand.
“Oh my goodness, look what I’ve done here,” he said.
I mean it’s only tea good golly, but how he burns and loses things. I haven’t had a decent meal in days.
Marnie
When I went back to his flat the door was open. The pigs hadn’t even closed it behind them. The whole apartment was a tip. They had ripped it apart. Picture frames on the floor, books off the shelves, and dishes everywhere. I didn’t know where to start and wondered why I was bothering. I suppose I hoped he’d be back or maybe I was looking for something to tell me where he went. Mostly I wanted to tell him I’d passed my exams. He definitely knew he was leaving because the picture frames were empty. Most of his clothes and a pair of tanned cowboy boots remained in the wardrobe. I felt bad for him then because he loved the tan ones, but it also meant he was wearing the black and I don’t know why but it made me feel better knowing what he was wearing.
After I tidy up I empty the bins into the rubbish bags but when I get to the one by his bed I find it is full of crumpled papers. I open them up and discover they are various drafts of the letter he left for me. In one letter he wrote I reminded him of his daughter and he loved me very much. He decided against this draft and bounced it into the bin. In another draft he told me I was a “precious” and a “special” girl. He decided against this version also. He had written almost five different letters before deciding on the one he enclosed with my wages. All of them containing words like character, beauty, and valuable. I kept them all. I have them all. I search the flat desperately for a picture of Vlado and find nothing and it makes me sad because I never took any. I try to remember the last time I saw him and think of him on his bike by the Clyde laughing at nothing in particular. In my mind I snap this image and store it in my memory. It’s where I keep everyone who’s important to me.
Lennie
Tending your grave is no easy feat. I bring scissors and twine. A bucket and a trowel. I bring a bouquet for your birthday. I have purchased a plot by your side and will call you beloved on my gravestone.
I worry for the girls. My girls. I worry for their future, but I have stayed long enough and the gloom creeps closer. I have no fight in me anymore and I am weary, but I must remain able, the girls need me and there is much to put in place. I can only hope it is enough and that my girls can stay strong a little while longer. Courage is what is needed now, courage and stealth, for there is much to fight for and much to let go.
Marnie
Impossible to imagine that a man who liked women as Gene did should have adopted a taste for young girls. Even harder to imagine was Izzy loving a man like that, but she did, and when we were wee girls so did Nelly and I. How could we not? We were children, it’s what we knew.
I remember one time coming home early from school a few weeks before Gene came into my room and I found them dancing. Izzy, slow. Gene, gentle. I suppose I was looking at the thing they were before the tearing, when she was a princess and he was a prince, defying the Furies to be together. Watching them love amidst the candles I could imagine the first moment their gaze fell upon each other and the first time they kissed. It made me understand their desperate clinging to one another. It also left me bitter being confronted by their love, for beyond it, the drugs and the hate and the infidelity, I saw an impossible reach for something else, something that had passed them. Until Gene died that is.
Thinking on Izzy clutching at Gene’s cold dead body unlocked something inside me. A curiosity of sorts. I remember her breaking her heart, and though I despised her for it I couldn’t quite fathom where this burst of love might have come from because she certainly didn’t express such feelings while they lived. Remembering her grief I fully experienced what must have been an intense incomprehensible love once upon a time, but after years of abuse and hate how could she have summoned it to her side and so vehemently? Why had she summoned it? It was in that moment I realized the truth. Nelly had not suffocated Gene. Izzy had.
Lennie
He called at the other door looking for Marnie. He said he’d found her dog.
“That’s not Marnie’s dog, son,” I told him. “That’s my dog. My Bobby. Come on, boy.” Bobby leaped at me and with so much gusto I thought he’d push me over.
“Is Marnie around?” the boy asked.
“Who wants to know?” I say.
“Sandy,” he says.
He was a handsome lad about fifteen, red hair and blue eyes, maybe violet.
“I’m afraid not.” I smiled. “Can I say who’s calling?”
“Sandy,” he said.
“You’ll be looking for a reward, young man.” I beam.
I was utterly delighted to have Bobby back and so I reach into my pocket and pull out a ten-pound note.
“S’okay,” he says.
“I insist,” I say.
He takes the money like a good lad and then walks away. I give him a wave for he was a very pleasant fellow. Very pleasant indeed.
Marnie
I have come here to our garden shed to ask you if you loved me as I must love you. I have come here to ask you why you allowed me to sleep by your feet and on your lap. I have come to ask you if there was love in your heart while you stroked my hair and when you moved me sleeping in your arms to a room never painted and to a bed never made.
I have come here to ask you, Mother, about the barest of larders and why you offered me coffee for lunch.
“We just don’t have the money, love” is one answer.
I try not to think of you smoking cigarettes, or your wineglass waving in the air when there was no milk or bread.
“Here’s a pound, hen, take the bottles from under the sink and get yourself some chips.”
Clanking down the street with four empties and a pound coin in my pocket makes me feel cared for. I’m thinking of those chips now and how they tasted to me, better than lamb or herbed chicken and not because I was hungry but because you gave me the money to buy them.
I have come here to ask you if you loved me and if you loved Nelly.
I have come here to ask.
I have come here.
Nelly
Sharon Henry wishes to be comrades of sorts. She is lonely and in need of companionship. She has friends of course but it’s something deeper she seeks. She looks to be understood. I felt rather sorry for her and of course I have agreed to meet her after school on Friday. She has suggested we see a movie.
“Look nice,” she tells me.
“Nice?” I ask.
“Make an effort,” she says. “A bit of gloss maybe.”
“But I don’t have gloss,” I tell her.
“Then borrow Marnie’s,” she says.
“Whatever for?” I ask.
“Because everyone wears it and it will make your lips look sexier.”
“I couldn’t give two hoots for what everyone else wears.”
“Fine, don’t wear it but at least wear something cool.”
“What difference does it make what I wear? We’re simply two chums going to see a movie. We don’t need to spoil it with unreasonable demands.”
“Okay, wear what you like, I have to go, meet me at the cinema at seven and don’t be late,” she commanded.
When I get home I discover from Marnie that Lennie set the kitchen on fire. He was making chips of all things and in the middle of the afternoon. He was in quite the state and apparently wandering around and telling the walls not to tell Joseph. Fortunately there wasn’t too much damage and after a long nap he was back in the kitchen and cleaning the smoke from the walls. I have since checked the liquor cabinets for I fear Lennie’s problems may originate from a more obvious source.
Marnie
Nelly thinks Lennie is an alcoholic. I think she might be right. He set the kitchen on fire and if it hadn’t been for the very organized fire
extinguisher he keeps under the sink I think the place would have gone up in flames. I’m starting to worry for the old guy. He clearly has a problem.
Lennie’s phone rang tonight but there was nobody, except there was. It was Robert T. Macdonald, I’m sure of it.
Lennie
Mate,” comes a voice.
“Yes,” I say.
“You’re trying to get into my car,” says the voice.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“We’ve been neighbors two years and you don’t know my fucking car. Give me a break.”
“Then where is my car?” I ask.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know, but that one is definitely mine.”
“Lennie?” comes another voice.
It’s Marnie and someone else I can’t quite place but she likes to whisper and if I reach far enough into my mind I can almost see her.
“Can we go home?” I ask them.
“Sure,” says Marnie.
“Take my arm,” says the other.
I take her arm.
“Good girl,” I say. “Let’s go inside and have some tea.”
“Good idea,” says Marnie.
“Where are my keys?” I say.
“At the end of your wrist,” says Marnie.
I hand them to her. “Open the door,” I say.
She opens the door. I find Nelly. I know Nelly.
“I think he’s been drinking,” Nelly says.
“I think you’re right,” Marnie whispers. “Let’s put him to bed.”
I am raised from the ground.
Jacket off. Shoes off. Watch on dresser. I fold into the duvet. A door is closed. I feel cold.
Nelly
It was a beastly evening. Sharon Henry is a deceptive wayward type of a girl.
When I arrive at the cinema there are two chaps with her. Felix Murray and a brute called Sam, who I am given to understand is her boyfriend.
Pulling me to the side Sharon tells me I am to sit with Felix.
“Don’t you fuck this up for me,” she says. “I like Sam and Felix is a good guy. So be nice.”
“Nice is as nice finds,” I remind her.
“Felix is a wee ride. Every girl in school would crush their knickers to be here.”
“I am not every girl in school,” I remind her.
“No you’re not.” She sulked. “And what’s with the violin?”
“I can’t leave it at home.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t.”
“Oh whatever.” She sighs.
Felix was quiet for most of the evening. He told me he enjoyed my violin performance at Christmas, which I very much appreciated. Felix it seems is the sporty type, he likes soccer and whatnot. It was a mortifying experience truth be told with Sharon and her beau clambering on top of one another like two dogs. A spectacle they made of themselves, even if it was in the darkness. Felix was a true gentleman of course and was respectful of the space I’d placed between us. He even gave me his jacket, for there is quite the chill in a movie theater. Later we went to a café. We have Coke and ice cream. We don’t speak for a very long time.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Hazelhurst Road,” I tell him.
“You like it there?” he asks.
“Very much,” I reply.
“And your folks, what do they do?” he asks.
“I live with my grandfather,” I tell him. “My parents are elsewhere,” I say.
“Elsewhere?” he asks.
“My goodness the questions you ask,” I snipe.
“I don’t mean to pry, I’m just interested to know more about you.”
“Whatever for?” I ask.
“Well I like you, don’t I?”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him.
“No, I want to.”
Sharon and her gentleman friend enter and making a colossal noise I may add.
“Hey, Nelly, play something on your violin,” says Sam.
“I will do no such thing,” I say.
Sam speaks to a waiter.
“My mate here can play the violin really good; can she play for five minutes?”
The waiter turns to a fat chap leaning over a counter and reading a newspaper.
“Hey, Willie, this girl here wants to play the violin.”
“Aye awright,” says Willie.
“I will not,” I exclaim.
“Why?” says Sharon. “You’re dead good and folk want to hear. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Very well,” I say and so I play.
As expected, the room goes silent and everyone is impressed. It’s always the same. I often look to others while I play and can see a great deal from their faces. I see Sharon wishing to be anyone other than herself. I see Sam not caring about the violin at all, he just wanted to make me play and I see couples and groups of people all of them looking to share something special with one another, something to talk about and I see a lone soldier enjoying his coffee delighted to be surprised. I see Felix and the waiter and I see Willie grateful for the music and for a certain altering in his coffee shop. When I am finished everyone claps except Sam. Willie sends over four more Cokes. “On the house.” He beams. We are a popular table and Sharon loves it.
“That was amazing.” She smiles. “You’re really good.”
Felix nods. He’s a quiet chap, Felix.
“So Nelly,” Sam says, “your parents are on the dole, right?”
“Shut up, Sam,” says Sharon.
“I just want to know how she’s all posh and that. I mean she’s fuck all like Marnie, is she? You adopted or something?”
I throw the Coke at him. I’d had enough of his tomfoolery.
“My sister and I are most certainly of the same blood. You blighter.”
I am surprised when Sam starts to laugh. “She is fucking mental.”
“Young man, I am leaving. Felix, it was a pleasure.”
“Stay,” begs Sam. “I’ll get you another Coke. You can throw it at Sharon.”
“No she can’t,” says Sharon.
Felix, a gentleman through and through, asks if he can walk me home.
“No thank you. I know my way from here.”
“Nae luck, Felix,” goads Sam, and I feel badly then. I did not mean to slight Felix in any way. He was a fine young man and kept his hands to himself. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t.
“I suppose you can accompany me a little of the way,” I tell Felix.
“Thanks.” He beams and leaps to my side.
It is an awkward journey home and I am relieved he has something to say. He talks at length as regards his pursuits and plans for the future. He is not yet fifteen years of age and I wonder if I should have plans for my future. We decide to walk by the park. This is where he attempts to kiss me. I turn my head and give him a cheek. He seems disappointed. I suddenly kiss his cheek. He looks uncomfortable.
“Shall I play for you?” I suggest.
He shakes his head.
“No, that would be weird,” he says.
He walks me as far as the bus stop on Byres Road. I have no intention of catching the bus, but I want to be rid of the chap and I imagine he feels the same.
“It was nice meeting you, Nelly,” he says.
“You too,” I say.
He hovers a little, as if he wants to say something else, but changes his mind and walks away with his hands in his pockets. I feel glad he’s gone and then I feel sad, mostly for my violin. He said he liked to hear me play.
When I get home I want to speak with Marnie for I have a great many questions as regards the evening, but instead I find her holding up Lennie, who is as drunk as a skunk, and so we took him to his room before the neighbors were alerted.
Putting Lennie to bed was a lot like putting Father to bed and I can’t deny feeling somewhat disappointed. Lennie is a man in his seventies and no spring chicken. It was utterly vexing. He’s been an undoubted fool of late
and I am thoroughly disgruntled. A beast he has unlocked within me and so I pull at his shoes and smack them to the floor. We did not remove his trousers. I left Marnie to remove his shirt. I couldn’t face it. We did not steal his money either. He is not Father and doesn’t deserve it.
Autumn
Marnie
It was the one place no one had looked. The garden shed. It wasn’t even hidden. It was in a tool bag on a shelf next to tins of paint and broken flowerpots. A bag full of money. I wondered if Izzy had found it next to Gene’s bed before she suffocated him. I wondered if Izzy had taken it with her to the shed before she hanged herself and then I didn’t wonder at all. It was abandoned cash, and as far as I was concerned it belonged to me.
I decided to hide it at Lennie’s. It would be safe at Lennie’s. At first I hid it in the most obvious of locations, the attic, but then I worried I wouldn’t be able to get to the attic in time if we had to make a quick break for it and so I hid it in the basement; this was a great hiding place, but again I worried about getting to it quickly and so I hid it in the wardrobe in the room Nelly sleeps in, but if Nelly found it I’d have to explain where it came from. It’s actually difficult hiding bodies and money, but I was confident I’d find a solution, and after ruling out the attic, the basement, the wardrobes, the space under Lennie’s bed, and the cupboard under the stairs where Lennie keeps an abundance of crap, I went back to the shed and put it on the shelf next to the tins of paint and broken flowerpots. It was the safest place.
After I hid the money I went back to Lennie’s house only to be confronted by Susie hovering outside the front door.
“Hey Marnie,” she says.
“Hey,” I say back but with no enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You should be,” I say.
She offers me a fag but I say no.
“My nan says I can go to drama school, did Kim tell you?”
The Death of Bees Page 16
