On Bone Bridge

by Maria Hoey

  I would have liked to leap up as she had done, but I was afraid of knocking her over, so I walked to the bed and climbed up and Violet-May grinned at me and once again she took my hand and we began bouncing again in rhythm to her chanting.

  “I’m so happy, happy, happy, I’m so happy, happy, happy!”

  And I saw our reflection bouncing in the mirror: me, Kay Kelly, smiling an enormous smile and holding hands with a princess.

  The party was held in the dining room, where the most enormous table I had ever seen had been spread with a white cloth and dressed with pink and white flowers. Everything that Violet-May had promised was there: the soda-stream and the ice-cream cake and much more – wobbling jelly towers in green and red and yellow, biscuits and sandwiches and fancy cakes and buns, and all of it served, not on paper plates like the parties I was used to, but on posh white plates. Like we were all grown-ups, I remember thinking. Violet-May stayed in her princess dress for the party but Rosemary-June shed her drudge’s rags in exchange for her yellow dress and ribbon. The only Duff missing from the celebrations was the most important one to me. Robbie failed to put in an appearance at all.

  “Isn’t your brother coming?” I whispered to Violet-May at one point.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s probably out looking for the dog again. Well, it will be his fault if there’s no ice-cream cake left.”

  When everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Violet-May and she blew out the candles on her beautiful ice-cream cake. I remember thinking that not a single person other than my own family had wished me a happy birthday. But then not a single person here knew it was my birthday, except Violet-May, and she said nothing. I wondered if she had forgotten that it was my birthday too.

  After we all had eaten as much as we could, Mrs Duff got to her feet and made an announcement that if the children would like to go upstairs to the playroom, there would be games to play and prizes to win.

  There was a general scurry and scraping of chairs as we all rushed to get to our feet, then the door of the dining-room burst open and Robbie Duff stood there.

  At first he said nothing at all and everyone in the room just stared at him.

  I was so happy that he had come after all, and only sorry that all the cake was gone and he had not had any, that for a moment I didn’t notice what he was holding in his arms. Then I saw it was a dog, quite a big dog with a shaggy grey-and-black coat. My next thought was that it was a pity that the first time I saw Prince he should be dead. Because the dog in Robbie Duff’s arms was clearly dead: his four legs were sticking out toward us, in a stiff and unnatural pose and his head was hanging down and I could see his eyes, which were open and staring. And when I looked up from the dog to Robbie’s face I could see that he had been crying, was still crying really.

  Then Mrs Duff said, “What on earth, Robbie? Why have you brought that dog in here? Is he, is he ...?”

  Her voice failed her, but Robbie answered the unfinished question anyway.

  “He’s dead,” he said. “Prince is dead. Someone poisoned him and now he’s dead.”

  Chapter 7

  If I am honest, I did not really expect to see much of Violet-May after the birthday concert, at least not outside of the schoolroom. Quite aside from my suspicion that I had only been invited because of my writing abilities, the day itself had turned into such a complete fiasco I would not have been surprised if she never wanted to see me again.

  The party had ended abruptly with the appearance of Robbie and his dead dog. Mr Duff, moving faster than I had ever seen him do before, hustled boy and dog from the room but not before the little girl from Rosemary-June’s violin class began to scream. It was a spectacular scream, high-pitched and with no pause for breath, and it had the effect of setting off some of the other girls too. In an effort to calm things down, the mother of screamer number one said she thought it was best to take her daughter home and then all the other mothers decided it was time to go too. Despite Mrs Duff’s best efforts to stay them with promises of games and prizes in the playroom, there was a rush for coats and then quicker than seemed possible everyone had gone, even Mrs Duff who accompanied the guests outside, leaving just me, Rosemary-June and Violet-May in the suddenly silent dining room. I was actually a little afraid to look at Violet-May. I expected her to drop to the floor and begin rolling about and screaming, so I just stared at my shoes and waited.

  But there was no tantrum this time and when Violet-May spoke, her voice was perfectly calm.

  “Robbie ruined my party,” she said.

  Her tone was so flat it seemed almost without emotion and I looked up in surprise. Violet-May had a fistful of the gauzy stuff of her princess dress and appeared to be examining a shiny butterfly.

  I was so relieved that there was to be no scene, I said what I was thinking. “It wasn’t his fault, I mean he didn’t do it on purpose. His dog is dead and he thinks somebody poisoned him. But who would poison him? It must have been an accident.”

  “He probably ate a poisoned rat,” said Rosemary-June. “Daddy said he would, if Robbie kept letting him run off into the fields.” She looked at her sister. “You said you wished he was dead and now he is.”

  “But she didn’t mean it, did you, Violet-May?” I said.

  “I did mean it,” said Violet May. “Stupid dog. First he ate my shoe and now he’s ruined my party. But now he’s dead and I’m glad he’s dead.”

  I was not only shocked, I was outraged, and once again found myself saying exactly what I was thinking. “Well, I’m not glad he’s dead, I’m really sorry. And I think it’s really mean to say that about your own brother’s dog. If I had a brother I wouldn’t say things like that.”

  And then, because I knew I was about to burst into tears and because I had no wish to face Violet-May’s anger, I walked out of the room and out of the house. All the way home the tears just kept on coming. I was crying for so many reasons it was hard to count them. I was crying because Prince was dead and because Robbie was sad, and because Violet-May’s party had been ruined and because I had stood up to her and she would probably never speak to me again. I was crying because now I would probably never be invited to her house again as long as I lived and because I might never see Robbie ever again. I was even crying because it was my birthday and I was crying.

  But Violet-May did want to speak to me again. On Monday, in school, she came up to me at break time and behaved as if nothing had happened. She did not mention the party or the concert or what had happened afterwards. I was longing to ask her if Robbie was alright but I was afraid to remind her of how her party had ended so I said nothing.

  And then she said something that put all other things out of my mind: “Do you think I could go and play at your house sometimes?”

  “You want to come and play at my house? But why?”

  “Because I like it there,” said Violet-May. “Because it’s fun and I want to.”

  “OK,” I said, trying hard to keep my surprise and delirious joy under wraps. “You can come and play at my house if you like.” A dark cloud of doubt passed through my head and I forgot to play it cool as I said anxiously, “But will your mother let you come?”

  “I’ll make her let me,” said Violet-May. “I’ll tell her you invited me. You’re inviting me, aren’t you, Kay?”

  I nodded but then a new doubt followed the first. “I’ll just have to ask my mam though.”

  Violet-May, who obviously did not foresee any problems, smiled happily. “OK then,” she said. “You ask your mam and I’ll tell my mummy.”

  “What does she want with you, that’s what I’d like to know,” said my mother.

  I had a fairly good idea what Violet-May wanted, but a miracle had occurred in my life and I was happy not to ask any uncomfortable questions.

  “She wants to play with me,” I said, “and I want to play with her.”

  “What’s so special about this Violet-May, anyway?” said my mother. “And what’s wrong with playing wi
th the Nugent twins from next door?”

  There was nothing wrong with playing with the Nugent twins, nothing at all. Dolores and Mandy Nugent had been my best friends until now.

  “She has two sitting rooms and a library and three bathrooms and six bedrooms and –”

  “I’m surprised at you, Kay,” said my mother.

  But the truth was it had nothing to do with the amount of rooms she had. It was something I could not put into words.

  “She’s fun,” I said lamely, “and she can skip with two ropes.”

  “That just sounds like showing-off to me,” said my mother.

  It was actually another two weeks before Violet-May was allowed to come to play at my house. It was a Saturday early in October and the weather was fine if a little chilly but Violet-May showed no inclination to go outside to our “perfectly lovely” back garden. She stood on the step and shivered so much my mother suggested we go inside and watch some television instead. In fact, we watched television for the entire two hours Violet-May was allowed to stay. I thought it a waste of a morning, but Violet-May was obviously in her element, especially when my father went to the shop on his bicycle and brought us back Fat Frogs and Double Dips.

  After we had licked the sticks clean of ice-cream and were opening our Double-Dips I found the courage to mention Robbie.

  “Is Robbie still going to boarding school after Christmas?” I asked.

  “Yes, straight after Christmas,” said Violet-May.

  “Poor Robbie,” I said.

  Violet-May, who had just scooped up a heap of fizz on her lollipop, gave me a sharp look.

  “I mean because he has to go to school and he doesn’t want to,” I said.

  “Oh, he wants to go now,” she said. “He says he’s glad to go and he can’t wait for Christmas to be over so he can get away from the sick people in our house.”

  “Who’s sick?” I asked.

  “Nobody’s sick, not that sort of sick. Robbie says ‘sick’ when he means mad or bad or something. I don’t know. He’s been acting all weird ever since Prince died.”

  “How do you mean weird?”

  “I don’t know, just doing funny things, saying funny things. He still keeps saying that someone poisoned Prince on purpose.” She stuck the fizz-covered lolly in her mouth and closed her eyes. “I love your Daddy,” she said.

  “I do too,” I said.

  “But you won’t tell Mummy about the sweets, will you, Kay? I’m not allowed to have any.”

  “I won’t tell,” I promised her.

  I forgot about Robbie Duff then, in the pleasure of knowing that Violet-May and I shared a secret, and by the time Mrs Duff came to collect Violet-May there was no sign of the sweets or ice-cream. I had collected up the wrappers and put them carefully in the kitchen bin. Mrs Duff looked fatter than ever, and I couldn’t help staring at her stomach. She was really nice to my mother again and praised the house and the garden like she was seeing it for the very first time and she kept thanking her again and again for having Violet-May over.

  We all walked out to the car and, just as Mrs Duff was about to get in, Violet-May asked if she could come again next week. Mrs Duff smiled and looked at me and my mother, then looked away again quickly and I knew she was wishing that Violet-May had not asked the question when we were there.

  “Well, let’s just wait and see, shall we, Violet-May?” she said.

  Violet-May stuck out her bottom lip. “I don’t want to wait and see, I want to come and play with Kay. I want to, Mummy, I want to!”

  I looked at Mrs Duff and I knew we were thinking the same thing: she was going to have a tantrum here in the street.

  Mrs Duff said quickly, “Well, perhaps if you girls want to play together it would be nice if Kay came to play at our house next time? What do you think, Mrs Kelly?”

  “Fine with me,” said my mother. “Take it in turns if that’s what Kay wants.”

  I doubt if that was what Mrs Duff had in mind, but she managed to smile at me when she said, “Would you like to come play with Violet-May at our house, Kay?”

  “Yes, please, Mrs Duff,” I said. “I’d like to go and play at your house next time.”

  I deliberately avoided meeting Violet-May’s gaze because I knew that was not what she wanted me to say. But fair was fair after all and the truth was we each had something the other wanted. I had a television and Violet-May had a brother and Robbie Duff was going away straight after Christmas.

  “Well, that’s settled then,” said Mrs Duff.

  “But we’ll take it in turns,” said Violet-May, her voice still sulky but not sounding quite so dangerous now and Mrs Duff, after a moment’s hesitation, gave the briefest of nods before climbing into the car.

  It was only when they had driven away and we turned to go back inside the house that I spotted the Nugent twins. They were standing peering over the hedge which divided their garden from the road, and only their perfectly matching heads were visible. I was fairly certain they’d heard every word we’d said.

  “Hi, Dolores, hi, Mandy,” I said.

  “Hi, Kay,” they said together. “Hi, Mrs Kelly.”

  “Hello, Dolores, hello, Mandy,” said my mother. “Kay, why don’t you go and play with the girls? You’ve been cooped up in the house all morning. A bit of fresh air will do you good.”

  But somehow the idea of playing in the road with the Nugent twins held no appeal.

  “After my lunch,” I said, and I followed my mother inside the gate.

  Dolores and Mandy shifted position so that they were peering now over the hedge that divided our garden from theirs and as I walked up the path I was guiltily conscious of their twin stare following me all the way to our door.

  I did go to play at the Duffs’ house the following Saturday but I only saw Robbie once and that was from a distance. I had finally made it as far as the playroom, which was on the second floor of the house. Like the drawing room, it proved a disappointment to me. It was nothing more than a big bare-looking room with bars on the bottom half of the two big windows. The walls were lined with shelves which held toys and a great deal of books and board games. In one corner there was an old rocking horse with the straw bursting from a gash in its stomach. In another corner there was a small wooden table, painted blue with white stars, and four small chairs to match. The chairs were too small for any of us to sit in.

  Rosemary-June was there that day, sprawled out on the floor making a jigsaw.

  Violet-May had gone off to find something in her room and I walked to the window and looked out. That was when I saw Robbie. He was walking across the grass below, then he stopped and bent down. I could not see what he was doing and I climbed up onto the window seat to get a better look.

  “He’s looking at Prince’s grave,” said Rosemary-June, coming up behind me. “I bet my kitten wouldn’t eat poison.”

  I turned to her. “Are you getting one?”

  “Mummy says no, but perhaps she’ll change her mind.”

  When I turned back to the window Robbie had gone. “Why are there bars on the windows?” I asked.

  “So little children won’t fall out. Mummy says this used to be the nursery in the old days. Perhaps they should have put bars on all the windows then that girl couldn’t have jumped.”

  “What girl?” I said, Robbie forgotten for the moment and all my attention on Rosemary now.

  “Oh, just a girl who worked here a long time ago,” said Rosemary. “She was a maid and she slept in the attic room and one day she climbed out onto the window ledge and jumped.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  Rosemary widened her already huge eyes. “Of course she was!” she said. “The attic room is at the very top of the house. I bet she was smashed into little pieces.”

  “But why did she jump?” I asked. I felt conflicted in the way that I always was by stories of this nature. They horrified me but thrilled me all at once.

  “Because of her trouble,” said Rosemary-June. />
  “Are you talking about the scullery maid who jumped out of the attic window?” said Violet-May, appearing in the doorway. “She jumped because she was having a baby and she didn’t have a husband. The woman who comes to wash the floors told me so. Now, come on, Kay, I want to play chase.”

  She ran off then and I hared after her, down the stairs and outside, and I forgot about the poor little scullery maid in the joy of running along the circuitous path that wound its way through the shrubbery.

  After that day, for all the talk of taking turns, it was usually Violet-May who got her way and she came to play at our house whenever her mother would allow her to.

  From time to time we did actually go out to play in the road, but only because my mother came in and switched off the television and said, “Go out and play and get some fresh air instead of hatching the house.” That was one of her favourite expressions: hatching the house.

  On those occasions I tried to include the Nugent twins in the games we played but Violet-May made no secret of her disdain for them which made me feel really awkward and uncomfortable.