Even unwrapping presents didn’t make it feel Christmassy. Dad said it was because it wasn’t Christmas Day yet but that wasn’t the reason. To make it feel like Christmas we played cards and then we played the memory game. I chose the objects. I got the bottle opener with the tribesman head from the kitchen, a pine cone from the dish in the living room, the lid off the sun cream, a yellow crayon and my scarf. I made Dad take off his shark-tooth necklace and we had that too. That’s a pretty scarf, Beautiful said, when I laid everything out. I told her it was yours and you were dead and Beautiful said she was sorry to hear that. I said Why do people say they’re sorry, it’s not their fault is it and Dad said there was no need to be rude, man. I said there was no need to say man at the end of every sentence and Dad said just because it was nearly Christmas and we were on holiday it didn’t mean I couldn’t get sent to my room.
I’m too good at the memory game. I guessed what was missing every time. I asked if Beautiful was staying the night and Dad wouldn’t say yes or no. He said she was spending the evening with us. When it got late I sat in between them on the sofa so they couldn’t cuddle. We watched a film about a man who wants to kill himself but an angel comes down and saves him. It was really boring. Robin watched it with his headphones on. When it finished he was yawning so Dad said Time for bed, buddy and Robin went. Then it was just me. What about you, treasure, Dad said, but I wasn’t tired. Even though the lemon mosquito candles were making me have a headache I carried on watching telly. Soon Beautiful said she was going to bed and she stood up and walked really slowly. Everything she does, she does slowly. I couldn’t imagine her running to catch a bus. She stepped up the big steps from the sofas slowly and then, instead of going through the doorway with the antelope skull over it where our bedrooms are, she went the other way, to go out to the roundhouse. She looked as if she was gliding. She said Night, Indigo and I said Night-night back but I never took my eyes off the TV.
I must have fallen asleep because then I was in my bed but wearing all my clothes. The sheet was over me and the mosquito net was tucked in. I could hear Jack’s chain dragging as he moved about in his kennel. I took my Alarm Girl when I went to do a wee. Dad’s bedroom door was closed so I pushed it ever so gently and quietly. If Dad thought I was a robber he would stun me with his stun gun. There were two heads on the pillow just like I knew there would be. One was Beautiful’s. I thought about pulling the pin out of my Alarm Girl. If I did, the screaming would wake them up with a fright. I stood and I stood with my hand on the pin and their heads on the pillow but then I went back to my room.
I was wide awake so I finished colouring in the necklace picture. I made all the beads red. Even though I was thirsty I knew if I had a drink I would regret it.
THEY CAUGHT THE TRAIN SOUTH especially to make their announcement. Karen wondered if her parents had guessed their news.
‘We’ve got something to tell you,’ she said after they had ordered their meals.
There was a prickle of tension in their corner of the pub restaurant and Ian’s foot found hers under the table. She rushed to say the words she had planned, but she was so nervous that only an unintelligible burst of sound came out.
Ian laughed. ‘What your daughter’s trying to tell you is that I have asked her to marry me,’ he said, smiling.
He leaned across the table to address her father.
‘I would have asked, Doug,’ he said, ‘but we were a long way away and I wanted to go with the moment, if you know what I mean? I hope you don’t mind?’
‘I can’t think of a nicer bloke to have as a son-in-law,’ her father said.
‘Me neither,’ said her mother.
Proposing a toast, they held up their drinks and sunlight coming through the pub window glittered in the glasses.
‘So did he get down on one knee, Karen?’ her mother asked. ‘Did you, Ian?’
‘It was quite romantic, wasn’t it?’ Ian said, turning to her. She felt her face stretch into a smile that didn’t quite belong to her. ‘We read in the guidebook that sunrise was the best time to see the view from this temple,’ he said.
‘The dawn of your married life, Kaz,’ her father said, and her mother told him he was a poet. Karen didn’t recognise this sentimentality of theirs. It was disconcerting. Perhaps they were relieved that, by marrying her, Ian was taking her off their hands.
She scraped her chair noisily away from the table.
The chill of the ladies’ toilet revived her. She was grateful to her parents and this was an occasion – perhaps the only occasion – to let them know. She loved them, and she would tell them so. She would tell them how being away from them had made her appreciate them. She stood in front of the mirror and silently rehearsed explaining how travelling the world had opened her eyes to the importance of what they offered. What she had thought of as staid and oppressive was a kind of anchor. Her reflection gazed back at her. Why was it, then, that she felt so loose in the world?
‘Where’s the ring?’ her father asked as she returned to her seat. ‘Ian says you bought a ring.’
She held out her hand to show them the plaited silver ring and matching bangle they had chosen in Kathmandu.
‘Silver not gold?’ her mother asked, and Karen reminded her that she preferred silver.
‘And now you’re getting married that’ll be an end to all this travelling, will it, Ian?’ her father asked.
‘Never!’ Ian replied.
Her mother turned to her. ‘Oh, but Karen, if you want to make a home, start a family…’
Ian rubbed his hands together in cartoonish glee. ‘We’ll have babies on the road,’ he said. ‘One in every country we visit. Dual passports and different citizenship for each child.’
‘He’s joking, Mum,’ Karen said, seeing her mother wince.
‘You wait,’ her father said. ‘Once you have children you’ll feel differently.’
‘I don’t think so, Doug,’ Ian replied.
‘But some of these countries can be dangerous, can’t they?’ her mother said.
‘Anywhere can be dangerous, Mum.’
‘I know that. Do you think I don’t know that? I watch the news! My point is, you might have been willing to take a risk in the past but if you have children you have to think about who would look after them if, God forbid, anything happened.’
‘That’s what godparents are for, no?’ Ian said. ‘That and forswearing the devil.’
He grinned at Karen but she sensed his strain, could hear the effort in his voice as he grew serious for her mother’s benefit. ‘No, you’re right, of course we’d name legal guardians and all that, but we’re not even married yet, let alone pregnant!’
There was a brief pause. Here was her opportunity. Now was the time to thank them for their years of effort: cold mornings when her father helped her with her paper round, lifts and loans he had given her, meals her mother had cooked, skirts and shirts she had sewn, the unconditional love they had both offered. Now was the time to tell them how sorry she was for any difficulty she had caused them – to apologise for the anguish; the feel of the towelling bathroom mat; the sound of her father screaming.
‘You and Dad would do it for us, though, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘If we did want to name someone? In case something did happen?’
Her mother looked at her and they held each other’s gaze. ‘Of course we would,’ her mother said.
Now was the time to say it. But the peculiar mixture of fear and prohibition in her mother’s face meant the words wouldn’t come.
After the meal, when Ian left the table, her mother said, ‘He’s a good person, Karen; you’re lucky to have found someone like him.’
‘And him,’ her father said. ‘He’s lucky too.’
‘Of course, Douglas, I’m not saying he’s not. Don’t go putting words into my mouth.’
There was a silence between them. With Ian gone, even for a short time, the atmosphere changed.
‘Treading on eggshells,’ her mother
said. ‘That’s how I feel, anyway. Always afraid I’ll say the wrong thing.’
‘There’s no “wrong thing”, Mum.’
‘I’m just saying how it feels. I can never tell. I would have thought you’d be happy –’
‘I am happy –’ Karen tried to tell her, but her mother continued speaking.
‘– and that this would be a happy occasion. For any other family it would be a happy occasion.’
She busied herself gathering up her coat and bag and, when Ian returned, all four made their way to the pub car park where they hovered, gravel crunching under their feet. Pleasantries were exchanged about what a nice meal it had been and how glad everyone was. Then they separated, the couples walking in opposite directions towards their parked cars with the sun dipping behind the buildings.
I WOKE UP WET even though I didn’t drink anything in the night. I could hear voices so I knew Dad was awake. I chucked my sheets and pyjamas out of the window and Jack started barking. I feel sorry for him because he’s got big fur and he’s always trying to get in the shade. That must be why he’s so bad-tempered. If I go near him Dad tells me off because he’s a guard dog not a pet and he might bite me.
Dad and Beautiful were sitting at the breakfast bar. They were being all friendly and normal because they didn’t know I saw them asleep in Dad’s bed in the night with their two heads on the pillow and Dad’s arms around her.
Robin downloaded a drawing game on my iPad. You can play it online with random strangers. I drew a comb and Eleanor O guessed it. Then I guessed her bucket. Soon I was earning coins for more colours and I was good enough to play on Medium level.
Robin said Eleanor O was probably a man really who was living with his mother and was a psycho. Dad gave us a boring talk about internet safety like they’re always going on about at school.
In the afternoon we drove out to a town to buy me some new sandals. Beautiful sat in the front and I could see her face in the side mirror for the whole journey. When she looked at me I didn’t look away and nor did she so it was just our two eyes looking and looking and looking at each other. There were kids selling cigarette lighters and oranges at the traffic lights but we didn’t buy any. They knocked on the car windows but Dad didn’t open them. I didn’t want to get where we were going but we did get there. We parked at a beach where there were loads of colourful beach huts like crayons in a box – red, green, yellow. I said When we get back I’m going to tell Zami to paint his shed a bright colour. Dad didn’t say anything. I couldn’t be bothered to get out of the car and I was being slow so Robin shouted at me. He told me to stop being such a drama queen. Dad told him to leave me alone, I was just tired, that’s all. He said being on holiday was a tiring business. It’s true I wished we were back at Nan and Grandad’s but with Dad there too and no Beautiful. When we walked along I went in between so they couldn’t hold hands.
Dad bought Robin a woven bracelet and some shoes made out of old car tyres. Robin said the shoes were really comfortable. They looked ugly. One of the shops had ballet pumps like Beth’s but with little spotty bows on the front. When I wanted some for school Nan said they weren’t suitable, even though everyone wears them. Dad didn’t know what shoe size I was so I had to try lots on until some fitted. They had clothes too and Dad bought Robin a Nelson Mandela T-shirt and I got a dress with a heart cut-out back. The pattern of the material is of tiny elephants that fade from one colour to another, from green to yellow to orange to red to pink. Sometimes I think Robin is right and I am a spoilt brat. We never used to get so much stuff. Beth says it’s because Dad feels guilty but guilty about what? Nan says Ignore her, she’s just jealous but I want to know.
We were going to a restaurant and I said Is Beautiful coming? Beautiful said I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to, it’s up to you, so I said No thank you and she said That’s fine. Robin gave me a dig but she whispered to Dad it was fine and it was.
Night comes so quickly in Africa it was dark by the time we went there. There were flaming torches on either side of the doorway and waiters in white jackets who carried trays on their shoulders. We looked at the menus and there was every type of meat. There was even crocodile and ostrich to eat. I wanted a burger and for some reason that made Dad laugh. You always know what you want, don’t you, Indy, he said and he scruffled my hair like I was a little kid. Robin said he wanted to try something he had never tried before so Dad ordered him something called a Platter. I could tell Robin secretly wanted a burger. Dad said Knowing what you want is a good life skill and he told a story about my first day at school which was that you and him both walked me together on the first day but when we got there I wouldn’t let go of Dad’s hand. It wasn’t what you expected because I knew the school from seeing Robin there and I wasn’t shy like some kids. Dad said I wouldn’t get in the queue for my new class and the teacher came and tried to make me but I still wouldn’t go. You and him had to take me to a corner of the playground and talk about how exciting it all was. And do you remember what you said to us, Indy? Dad said. I didn’t. Do you know what she said, Robbo? Robin was pretending to be interested but I could tell he wished it was a story about him instead of me. Dad said I was looking at all the other kids in the playground and he could see that I suddenly understood something because I looked at them and I asked him Does everyone think they’re the main one?
Dad laughed and laughed but me and Robin didn’t know what was so funny. It was because I was only four when I said that, Dad said, and it was the first time I looked outside myself. I didn’t know what he was talking about. He was kind of laughing and crying at the same time. He had to wipe his eyes. He said I was a confident girl who was growing into a confident young woman. Sometimes I don’t feel all that confident but I didn’t tell him that. And I’m not a woman because I haven’t got my periods yet. Obviously I didn’t say that either because that’s not what to talk about at the dinner table. Then it was Robin’s turn. Dad said he was going to be a successful young man and asked if he had lots of friends and if teachers liked him. You’re quite a success, am I right, Robbo? At school? Robin said I guess but Dad told him off for being modest. He was talking in quite a loud voice. I think he was a bit drunk. Don’t be so modest, man! Your friends, Indigo, they like him, right? Girls, I mean? All the girls in my year say he is fat and what a dork but I told Dad Yes, girls like him and Dad said That’s what I thought. Then our dinners came and my burger had a little South African flag on a stick poking through it that Dad said I should keep as a souvenir. Robin said crocodile meat tasted just the same as chicken.
I said It’s surprising really, when you consider. Consider what, pumpkin? Dad said. He was all smiley and a bit drunk. Robin gave me a look but I didn’t let that stop me. I said It’s quite surprising that me and Robin are okay when you consider that our mum’s dead. It is, pumpkin patch, Dad said, and he stopped talking loudly and just nodded his head, saying It is, and I thought again about what it is that Beth says he is so guilty about.
HER PARENTS WERE EXPECTED but she was still in bed. She drifted in and out of a queasy kind of sleep, listening to Ian and Robin downstairs. When she opened her eyes Ian was standing in the bedroom doorway.
‘Still sleeping?’ he said. ‘They’ll be here soon.’
She closed her eyes and he came further into the room.
‘Karen.’
He moved about, picking clothes up from the floor and folding them, opening and shutting drawers. She kept her eyes closed and soon became aware of a smaller, silent force. Ian murmured something and there was a shuffling close by.
‘Sleeping, yes,’ Ian said. His voice was gentle. He rarely spoke to her in such a voice any more. ‘Mummy asleep.’
A salty smell. Warm breath. A child’s whisper. ‘Ssshh.’
‘That’s right, ssshh. Good boy.’
Soft movement and then silence.
‘Karen. Your mum and dad are here. Get up.’
The bedclothes were pulled back.
&
nbsp; ‘This isn’t funny any more,’ he said. ‘Are you ill or what?’
When she opened her eyes his face was pushed right up close to hers, a giant looking in through a window at a doll.
‘Do you feel sick?’ he said. ‘I brought a bucket.’
The red plastic bucket they used for washing the car. On the floor next to the bed, a towel spread underneath it. The towel had an image of a leaping dolphin on it. She pretended to retch. He snatched the bucket and held it under her chin. She hung over it, hiding behind her hair.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, patting the bedclothes.
She pulled the duvet over her head, heard him go downstairs. A little while later her mother came into the room. ‘This morning sickness, then,’ she said, ‘it’s more like morning, noon and night sickness, eh?’
Karen didn’t reply. Her mother sat down on the bed.
‘How many weeks are you now? Coming up for fourteen, something like that? You’re meant to be blooming!’
Alarm Girl Page 5
