Alarm Girl

by Hannah Vincent

  ‘Fetch a cloth, Robbie,’ Doug said.

  Robin slammed the door as he left the room, making the walls of the house shake.

  It grew late. Outside, a frost tightened the lawn. Votes were counted and television talent show winners announced.

  ‘Isn’t it about time you went home, Bethany?’ Valerie said.

  ‘Mum says she doesn’t mind,’ Beth answered without turning around.

  Valerie gave Doug a look.

  ‘Is she asleep?’ he asked, nodding in Indigo’s direction. Her head was cocked at an awkward angle over the arm of the chair, her hair falling in front of her eyes. She had done the same the previous weekend: dropped off to sleep while they were all watching television. They hadn’t been able to wake her, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how loud they said her name and told her the house was on fire.

  ‘Let’s put stuff on her,’ Robin said. He balanced the remote control on his sister’s shoulder and Beth rested a cushion on top of her head. They put an orange from the fruit bowl into one of her hands, a banana in her lap.

  ‘That’s enough now,’ Valerie said.

  Doug removed the items and scooped his sleeping grandchild into his arms. His chest tightened painfully as he lifted her out of the armchair.

  ‘Robin, mind out of Grandad’s way,’ Valerie said, ‘or you’ll have him break his neck.’

  ‘She’ll want this,’ Robin said, holding up a silk scarf that Indigo always kept with her. Doug had no spare hand with which to take it so Robin tucked it under his sister’s chin.

  ‘Ah,’ Beth said, ‘pretend you’re so hard, Robin Taylor, but you’re a softie really.’

  DAD’S BUNCH OF KEYS was as big as the school caretaker’s. Nobody move, he said, when he opened the front door. Like the police. He told us to stay where we were while he turned off the alarm. I was fiddling with my scarf and Robin whispered at me not to be a retard. After Dad pressed loads of buttons we were allowed to go in.

  It was dark and cool and smelled of polish. A vase of golden twigs stood on a chest made of wood that had all carvings on it and there was a big painting that was just colours but had people carrying spears if you looked at it more carefully. The front door opened straight into a big sitting room, with a shiny kitchen in the corner – no stairs or hallway or carpet. A Christmas tree had loads of presents underneath. It didn’t feel like Christmas though because it was hot and sunny outside. Some big wide steps went down to two sofas opposite each other and a low table in the middle with a laptop on it and books and magazines, like at the dentist’s. Dad went over and yanked a string that opened the curtains with a loud noise. The room filled with light. I recognised it from when we Skype except it looked different now we were standing in it. The whole back wall was a window. There was a big telescope in front of it and outside there was nothing apart from countryside. It didn’t look like Africa because it was green not desert. It looked the same as England apart from the mountains. Robin looked through the telescope and said it was awesome.

  I felt a bit dizzy. I really wanted a drink but it would be bad manners to ask for one. I held my scarf up to my face. It smelled of Nan’s. Dad asked if I was alright but my throat swelled up fat enough to choke so I couldn’t say anything and Dad gave me a weird look. He started showing us around and you could tell he was trying to make everything friendly. A news programme came on the massive TV screen on the wall above the fireplace. Dad pressed another button and random music filled the room. He called the kitchen bit the cooking station. The ‘cooking station’ was about four times the size of Nan’s kitchen. He said we would have a chef and, if there was anything we fancied, just shout. I wanted to scream out loud for a drink but Robin started going on about how rich Dad was. Dad laughed and pretended to be embarrassed but you could tell he was pleased. He said we could either sleep in a round house where his clients normally stay or we could sleep in the main house with him if we preferred. Robin said he wanted to stay in the main house and I did too. It’s not like we’re his clients.

  Our bedrooms were next door to each other but not upstairs. There were no stairs. There was an animal skull with horns on it hanging on the wall. Dad said to Robin How about you have this room and Indy can go in here? The bed had a long white net hanging around it, like a princess’s bed. There were bars on the window, like in a prison. Dad said there wasn’t such a good view from this part of the house. We could see the boy called Zami walking away from where he had parked Dad’s car. It was next to an open-top Jeep under a shelter that had a roof but no walls, and the roof was a bit of metal held up by four knobbly posts that looked like they had been cut from trees. There were some chickens pecking the ground and some more lying under a shed and there was a kennel with a massive dog inside, about twenty times the size of Minnie and not too friendly, Dad said. It was tied to a long chain. No wonder it wasn’t friendly. We carried on watching out of the window and Tonyhog trotted past with his tail pointing right up into the air in a straight line. Dad laughed and said Tony, on the other hand, is very keen to be friends. Ugly as hell, but he’s good fun, you’ll like him. We watched as Zami poured water out of a dirty plastic container and made a puddle that was for Tony to drink. Tonyhog knelt down with just his front legs bent underneath him. I was so thirsty I wanted to kneel down next to him. He wasn’t ugly. He looked really sweet with his front legs tucked underneath the way humans fold their arms. I asked what the dog’s name was but Dad said it liked to be left alone. He said there were a few house rules to go over – Stuff you need to know to keep you safe, he said – but we would talk about that after we unpacked.

  On my pillow there was a thing that looked like a bit like a phone. It wasn’t a phone, it was a personal alarm. Dad said Robin had one too so he went and got it. Mine was called Alarm Girl and it was silver and pink. Robin’s was blue. They had inbuilt torches and a clip to fix them to your belt or you could wear them on a string around your neck like the glow sticks we got from the circus. If you take the pin out there’s a horrible noise. Robin was making jokes, pretending to pull out the pin then throw it like a hand grenade. He kept shouting Cover! and diving under my bed and making Dad laugh. I wanted to hear what the alarm sounded like but Dad went all serious and said Not now, Indy, it’s not a toy, it’s for if you’re in danger, but I kept asking and then he let me. I pulled out the pin like in the instructions and a girl started screaming. When I put the pin back in, she stopped. Robin tried his but it was a siren instead of a girl screaming. I wanted the siren one but Dad said I had to have the girl. Robin said more people come to your rescue if there’s a girl or a woman screaming. Maybe that made him think Dad loves me more than him because he made me keep the screaming girl.

  Dad’s got a gun that gives an electric shock but he wouldn’t let us see it even though Robin really wanted to. He got it because he was mugged and his wallet and everything was stolen so after that he got a stun gun. He could have got a real gun but he only wanted a stun one. Robin asked if Dad’s mugger was a black man and Dad said yes this man was black but when he was burgled in England that robber was a white person. Dad said there’s always a reason why people behave the way they do but there’s no reason why Robin loved the idea of that stun gun so much, he just did.

  Our rooms had ceiling fans like old-fashioned aeroplane propellers that moved slowly when you switched them on then they got faster and faster. The curtains around my bed blew and billowed. Dad asked if we were hungry. Starving, Robin said – like he always says if anyone asks – and I said I was thirsty. Dad said he would make pancakes and get me a drink.

  I spread my scarf out over the little table next to the bed, smoothing its lovely silk and tracing the pattern of the golden letters. P.A.R.I.S. I said to Dad Do you remember this scarf? It was in the dressing-up box when we were little. He didn’t remember it. I told him it was yours and he sat on my bed next to me and asked me what I thought of South Africa so far. It’s a big country, he said, and sometimes it can feel overwhelming
. The landscape and the heat, he said, sometimes it can feel too much – even I feel it. I didn’t say anything. I knew he wasn’t talking about Africa. I just wanted him to get my drink. We looked at my wind-up torch that doesn’t need batteries. Dad said it never gets dark because of the security lights. We would need a torch if we went out at night, because it’s pitch-black twenty metres away from the house with ridges we could fall down, but inside the grounds it’s light the whole time. Robin said I would be pleased about that because I was scared of the dark. He said I was scared of everything – creepy-crawlies, lions, everything – and he told Dad I have to have the hall light on at home and I have to have my scarf wherever I go, like a baby with its blanket. When I shouted Fuck off at him Dad was nice and made him go out of my room. He went out too, so he could make pancakes and so I could have a bit of time to myself, he said.

  My suitcase zip made a loud noise. Nan had folded all my clothes in neat squares. Tops in one pile and bottoms separate. Socks and knickers in the special bags she got from her catalogue. Everything was cold, like it had been in the fridge. My new sandals were all squashed. They still smelled of the shop and I had to peel the stickers off the bottoms. I got changed and my clothes felt nice and cool.

  They gave us colouring books on the plane. Really babyish. Robin left his on the seat but I brought mine. The picture on the first page was of a bunch of flowers. The crayons that came with it were all melty from the heat. There were two different greens to colour in the flower stalks, dark and light. I made sure I didn’t get the floor or the bed dirty with the little bits that came off. I brushed them into the drawer of the table next to my bed. There was a Bible inside, with a silver cross on the front and really thin pages. I could hear Dad speaking on the phone. He had forgotten my drink and I was afraid I would die from thirst.

  I went into Robin’s room where he was arranging his wildlife books, lining them up on top of his table. Dad’s trying to get us to like everything isn’t he, I said, and Robin told me to lighten up. He had a Bible in his drawer too. I asked him what we were meant to do with them and he said Pray, even though he doesn’t believe in God or Heaven. Then Dad brought us water with ice cubes in. He had no shoes on, and instead of his trousers he was wearing a piece of material wrapped around like a skirt. A leather string around his neck had a pointy tooth hanging off. He said it was a Great White’s. I didn’t believe him but I didn’t say anything. I drank my water so quickly it was painful. Robin hadn’t even started his and mine was all gone. Dad asked if I wanted another one but I could hardly speak with the ice-cold all around my heart. He took my empty glass and you could see his bare footprints on the floor, walking out of the door.

  The pancakes had chocolate sauce and pineapple. I sat on one of the high stools to eat mine and there were cloth napkins, like in a restaurant. Dad never used a napkin at home, only kitchen roll if he needed to wipe his mouth or something. When Robin’s pancake was ready Dad let me bang a little gong. The end of the beater was wrapped in cloth. The sound it made was loud and soft at the same time, and kind of rippled through the air so you could almost see the airwaves.

  I was wearing my T-shirt with the horse on it and Dad said On a horse you can get up close to the animals because they can only smell the horse so they don’t know you’re there. I said It’s Robin who wants to see all the animals and Dad said What are you into these days? I said I didn’t know.

  I checked out the presents underneath the Christmas tree. The tree was fake like Nan’s, except silver instead of realistic and only gold decorations, not multicoloured like Nan’s. All the presents underneath were wrapped in silver wrapping paper with yellow ribbon tied around them and tags made from plain card with no pictures on, just our names written in old-fashioned ink pen. To Indigo with love. It didn’t say who from. The handwriting wasn’t Dad’s. It was like the writing on an ancient manuscript that gets found in a grave in one of the films that Robin likes. There was a present for Dad, with his name written on the tag like all the others. When I asked him if he wrapped them up he said he wasn’t very good at that kind of thing so I asked him who did but instead of telling me he said it was elves.

  He got his big load of keys and showed us behind the house where the garden was and where there was a little round cottage for guests who come on holiday. It’s got a thatched roof that looks like a pointy hat and inside the ceiling is a dome. It’s the exact same shape as a beehive so now I know what a bee feels like. Next to the cottage there was a giant hole for a swimming pool. Robin jumped in, even though there was no water because the swimming pool wasn’t made yet. Dad was laughing because he was doing front crawl up and down with no water and showing him his butterfly and backstroke. The earth inside the hole wasn’t brown like in Grandad’s flowerbeds. If you were drawing it you would have to add red to the brown to get the right colour. Next time we come the hole will be a swimming pool and we can swim in it, and there are going to be some seats under the shade of a big tree, but for now there’s a tyre swing. Dad made it specially for us so we had a go. I got black stuff all over my hands from the tyre but it was insane. Dad pushed us really high and it was my best moment so far.

  Night-time came with no warning. We were on the tyre for ages and it was sunny and hot then suddenly it was dark and even a little bit cold. I didn’t know Africa could be cold. Dad said it’s because there are no clouds to keep the air warm. This was the time of day the mozzies get busy so we had to go indoors and put long sleeves on.

  There was a black man in the kitchen. He had a knife. I hid behind Dad and that made him laugh – No need to be shy, Indy, he said, this is Silumko, our wonderful chef. Silumko was chopping vegetables. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled. Dad said we were having shepherd’s pie for dinner. He knows shepherd’s pie is Robin’s favourite. He lit some candles that smelled of lemons and he said if we listened carefully we might hear lions. Some were nearby and we could go out to see them. He didn’t mean straight away, he meant the next day. I was glad we didn’t have to go on safari right then. There was a giant bowl of crisps on the table. I wanted one but no one else was eating any, not even Robin and he loves crisps. When I took one it tasted of soap. I spat it out and I was quickly going to hide it but Dad saw me. He laughed and said to Silumko that I was so hungry I was eating pot-pourri.

  After dinner, instead of just leaving us to go to bed by ourselves like Nan does, Dad came in to our rooms to say goodnight. He saw my malaria pills on the little table and he got annoyed with Nan because there’s no malaria at his house and those pills were too strong, he said. They can make you crazy. He asked where Nan got them and when I said she ordered them online because she was scared of us getting malaria he was angry because he already told Nan the last time we Skyped that we didn’t need them. I was going to ask if we could Skype Nan and Grandad to say we had arrived like Dad said we could and to say night-night but because he was in a bad mood I didn’t.

  Dogs were barking in the distance but not our one. Dad said he would only bark if there was an intruder. I put my Alarm Girl under my pillow and Dad said the guard that stands outside the gate would let us know if there was anyone trying to get in. Plus the tangled-up barbed wire, plus the burglar alarm that automatically contacts the police who come straight away.

  I couldn’t get to sleep. The TV was on but Dad wasn’t watching it. He was talking on the phone to someone. I heard him telling whoever it was about my malaria medicine but it wasn’t Nan he was speaking to because I know he doesn’t speak in that kind of voice to her. When he saw me in the doorway he told whoever it was that he would ring them back. Can’t sleep, treasure, he said, and I said I thought it was a shame the dog didn’t have a name. He laughed and asked me if that was what was keeping me awake and I could think of a name for him if I liked. I said How about Jack and Dad said that was a nice name, it suits him because he is a rough and tough kind of dog. Dad said Are there any boys in your class called Jack and I said No. Then I went back to bed. Robin was pre
tending to be asleep when I went past his room but he knew I was standing there and when he started talking it made me jump. He said he hoped I wasn’t going to be like this the whole time. Like what, I said. All weird, Robin said, and I said I hoped he wasn’t going to be like this the whole time and when he asked Like what I said All mean.

  Then I went into my own room and I fell asleep with lions and mosquitoes and muggers all around.

  VALERIE WAS AT HER BEDROOM window when she saw Ian’s car draw up. It wasn’t the blue saloon he normally drove, it was a big shiny grey thing. She moved away from the window.

  There was no answer when she knocked on Robin’s door. He was lying on his bed with his eyes closed. He was so tall now that his feet hung off its end. He had headphones on, so she had to tap him on the leg to tell him his dad had arrived.

  Downstairs, a dining chair lay upturned on a sheet of newspaper in the middle of the room.

  ‘Almost there,’ Doug said.

  She opened the front door to her son-in-law, who kissed her hello. Sometimes there was no kiss. During the worst times there was none.

  ‘Bit of DIY, Doug?’ Ian asked by way of a greeting.

  ‘You could say that,’ Doug replied. ‘I’ve already had a go at the table.’

  Ian complimented him on the good job he was doing but she could tell he thought the old man had gone gaga. He probably imagined Doug was so bored in retirement that this was how he filled his days.

  She made a pot of tea and, together with the children, they sat around the table. Ian rarely chose to sit on the sofa when he was at theirs, as if he was on business. In fact there was often some kind of business to attend to – school permission slips and money the children needed for something or other.