The Goldfish Boy

by Lisa Thompson

  Mum had just begun to load the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.

  “Answer that for me, Matthew?”

  I went to the hall and recognized the outline of the figure behind the frosted glass door. She was dressed in black with pink flip-flops. I ignored the second bell and ran upstairs.

  “Matthew? Why didn’t you answer it?” shouted Mum as she opened the front door.

  I paced around my room, wondering if I should run to the bathroom and lock myself in, when my door was pushed open. I stood by my window with my arms folded.

  “Hi, Matthew.”

  Her eyes looked puffy with dark rings underneath and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. In her arms she was carrying a large brown photograph album, and I had an awful feeling it was something for me.

  “I think we need to talk. I know you think I’m some kind of lunatic after the graveyard but I’m not, okay? There’s all that crazy stuff going on out there with Teddy missing, and I think we could be good friends if you just saw me for the person I am, not the person you think I am.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink. The little speech had clearly been rehearsed, and as she waited for me to say something her dark eyes flittered around my room, taking everything in. A deep, barely audible growl rumbled from the corner, and I glanced up at the Wallpaper Lion and glared at him.

  Something caught her eye outside and she stepped toward the window.

  “Is Mr. Charles watering his yard?”

  I looked out and saw the old man was slowly saturating his flower bed using his hose.

  “Why would you bother doing something like that when your grandson is missing?” said Melody.

  We watched him move along the garden, one footstep at a time, and she rested her head against the side of the wall. I flinched.

  “Melody, I think you should go now. I’ve got a few things I need to do. Lots of things, actually. And I really don’t like people being in my room, you know? After what I told you about?”

  She continued to stare at Mr. Charles.

  “Did you know that if you spray a hose in a certain direction and the sun is in the right place you can see a rainbow?”

  I watched as the sun glinted on the sparkling spray, but I couldn’t spot any colors.

  “Dad showed me once when he still lived with us. He said, ‘If you look carefully enough you can see beautiful things in almost anything.’ I don’t think that’s true though, do you?”

  She turned to face me. The sores on my hands were throbbing so much I would have to ask Mum for a painkiller before long.

  “Melody, I really need you to go. Please?”

  But she became all businesslike and shook her head.

  “No. I’m not going. This won’t take long and it’s really important.”

  She kicked her flip-flops off and sat cross-legged on my duvet. As simple as that. I felt physically sick.

  “D-didn’t you hear me? I asked you to go. And don’t you think you should have some socks on if you’ve got verrucas?”

  I paced to the window, to the door, to the window, and back to the door. Her head went from side to side as if she were watching a tennis match.

  “I’ll be quick,” she said, putting the album on her lap and taking a deep breath. “I thought if I explained why I took the cards from the graveyard, then you’d understand.”

  Tucking a stray hair behind one ear, she watched me with dark eyes. I forced myself to stop by my dresser and repeated a phrase in my head while she spoke.

  Everything can be cleaned … Everything can be cleaned … Everything can be cleaned …

  “The church throws away all the cards and gifts that have been left on the graves after they’ve been there for a certain amount of days. The relatives know about it, it’s all okay with them; they don’t expect to get any of it back. I just take what’s lying around before it ends up in the trash.”

  I frowned.

  “That’s great. Nice to know. Right, now you can go, okay?”

  She rested her chin on the album that she held to her chest and completely ignored me.

  “As you know, before Dad left I used to sneak out and go to the graveyard to get away from all the shouting. One day I saw a memorial card on the ground with a muddy footprint across it. I picked it up and it said, ‘My dearest Mary, I am hollow without you. Love, Jack.’ I took the card home, dried it off on the radiator, and kept it. That card was so heartbreaking and it was being walked over like a piece of rubbish. It just didn’t seem right. That was my first one, and I’ve been collecting them ever since. Now I can’t bear to think that they’re going to be thrown out, so I pick up what I can and keep them safe.”

  She took a deep breath and her cheeks flushed pink again as she held the album out to me.

  “Just take a look, okay?”

  The brown book dangled between us and I tucked my hands behind my back.

  “Uh, can you open it for me?” I asked.

  Melody waited for a second, then shrugged and put it down on my bed, turning the front cover over. I took a step closer. The folder was like a ring binder with sheets of plastic inlays—little pockets of all different sizes designed to hold cards. Postcards, antique cigarette cards, that kind of thing. But on these cards there were doves, flowers, crosses. I studied the first page.

  Rest In Peace, Uncle Cyril. We will miss you always. Love, Sarah & John.

  Sleep tight my darling. Christine x

  Miss you forever my sweet pea. Your Frank.

  Dad—my wonderful hero. Until we meet again. Your son, Tommy x

  There was even some in a child’s handwriting:

  Granddad, you made us laugh when you snored so loud! We hope it’s nice in heaven. Love, Katie, Becky, and Joshua

  Melody was watching my face, trying to gauge my reaction as she slowly turned the pages. I had a lump in my throat and didn’t know what to say. Then I spotted some handwriting I recognized.

  “Stop there a second,” I said.

  In the top corner of a page there was a card with a little blue teddy bear sitting beside a white cross. Underneath, in blue ink, it read:

  Our baby boy Callum. We never had the chance to see you grow, but we love you each and every day. Mummy, Daddy, and Matty xxx

  Tears stung my eyes. I knew Mum visited his grave every now and then, but I didn’t realize she’d left messages for him.

  “Where did you get this one?” I said, pointing at the card.

  “By the angel. The big, white angel near the front of the church. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  It was me, it was all my fault he died was dancing around on my tongue, but I quickly swallowed it away. She obviously had no idea he was my brother, and there was no sign of the note I’d left saying sorry. It had probably been thrown away by the church, or lost. I relaxed a tiny bit as Melody picked up the book and hugged it again.

  “So. What do you think?”

  I sighed.

  “Well, it’s a bit weird, to be honest.”

  She frowned and looked down at my hands before standing up.

  “Oh that reminds me. You still owe me the money for those gloves.”

  We glared at each other for a moment and then she smiled at me, knowing she’d made a point.

  “I guess there’s no harm if they were being thrown away anyway,” I said. “And it must have been hard, you know … with your dad leaving and everything.”

  She nodded and bit her top lip.

  “Look. Let’s just forget it, okay?” I said. “I’m not saying I agree with it, but if it’s not upsetting anyone, then it doesn’t matter what I think.”

  She grinned.

  “Good. We’re wasting time arguing anyway. Did you hear about the sighting?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t mean it was definitely him though.”

  Melody nodded. “My thought too. We need to carry on investigating, Matty. Have you found anything out yet?”

  I told her about seeing Old Nina trying to get the
white fabric out of her tree after I’d left the graveyard.

  “Whatever it was, she seemed very eager to get to it.”

  Melody frowned.

  “And what’s with the lamp she had in her window?” she said. “It’s not on anymore! Did you see? Do you think it means something?”

  I shrugged, pleased that she’d noticed it had been turned off as well.

  “I don’t know, I’ve been wondering about that myself. Is it just a coincidence that it’s been off since Teddy went missing?”

  “Right,” she said, standing up and ready for action. “I’ll go and see if I can find out what’s in her tree, and you find out about the lamp. Your parents have lived here longer than my mum. Maybe they know something?”

  I nodded and she smiled at me.

  “You’re all right, Matthew Corbin. A bit of a stress-head maybe, but I think we’re going to make a great team!”

  And with that she blew me a kiss and ran out the door.

  Dad poked his head around my door at 10:23 p.m. I was laying on top of my bed in my pajama shorts and T-shirt. It was too hot to get under the sheets.

  “It wasn’t Teddy on that ferry,” Dad said sadly. “It was just a little boy who looked the same on his way to see his grandparents in Holland.”

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” I said, pushing myself up onto my elbows. “If it was him, he could have been anywhere by now!”

  Dad didn’t look so sure.

  “He could still be anywhere. Anyway, try not to think about it and get a good night’s sleep, okay?” He turned to go.

  “Dad? Can I ask you something?”

  He took a couple of steps into my room.

  “You know Old Nina? Why does she have that lamp on in her window all the time?”

  Dad rubbed his chin.

  “Ah, well, that’s a sad story, actually. Really sad.”

  He perched himself on the edge of my desk and I laid down and looked up at the Wallpaper Lion as I concentrated on his voice:

  “A long time ago, when Nina wasn’t very old, she went on holiday to Norfolk with her husband, the vicar, and their son, Michael. He was eleven years old at the time.”

  I looked at him.

  “A son? I didn’t know she had a son.”

  Dad nodded. That must be the boy that Jake and I had seen in the photos on Halloween.

  “They’d been going to the same cottage every year since Michael had been born, spending a week by the sea. On the third day of this particular trip they settled themselves on one of the beaches and Michael headed off on the long walk to the sea. Norfolk is very flat, you know, and at low tide the sea can roll away so far that it disappears from view, so Nina and the vicar knew their son would be gone for a while.

  “Midday came and Michael still hadn’t returned for his lunch, but they weren’t worried. Like I said, the sea was such a long way away, and he would have spent a good while having a swim before he made the trek back again. They kept thinking that any minute now they’d spot his figure growing bigger on the horizon as he headed toward them.

  “Another hour passed, and then another, and then the sea began to rumble in. It was then that they alerted the coast guard.”

  Dad stopped for a moment and stared at my carpet.

  “A team of boats searched into the night, but Michael was never found. They drove home in darkness, and when they got back to the Rectory, Nina switched on the lamp that was in the window. They stayed up all night waiting for news, but none came. Morning arrived and the lamp was left on and forgotten about, but when it got dark that evening Nina looked at the warm orange glow and decided there and then to leave it on permanently. She felt the light would somehow show her son the way home.”

  I shivered and pulled the sheet over me.

  “They never found out what happened to him?”

  Dad shook his head.

  “No.”

  “And she’s still waiting? She’s been leaving the lamp on, hoping her son is going to come back after all these years?”

  Dad stood up.

  “I doubt it after all this time. It’s probably become just a comfort to her now.”

  He rubbed his hair and gave a yawn.

  “Right, it’s getting late now, young man. You’d better get some sleep.”

  He walked out of my room and went to close the door.

  “Can you leave it open tonight, please, Dad?”

  “Sure,” he said and he pushed the door a little wider.

  I rolled over and closed my eyes, but all I could see was the face of the boy with the freckles in the photo in Old Nina’s hallway. I imagined his wet feet padding along the pavement and pictured him standing in front of the old, black door in his sodden swimming shorts, dripping sea onto the path. He’d bang the heavy knocker, a puddle circling around him as he waited on the step. Old Nina would open the door and scream in delight as she threw her arms around him. She’d usher him inside and wrap him in a towel and a warm blanket.

  Sorry, Mum. That took a bit longer than I expected.

  His mum would hold her hands to her face as she stood, mesmerized by the glorious boy standing in front of her.

  You’re back! she’d cry. You’ve come back to me at last.

  And all because she’d kept the orange lamp burning brightly to guide him home.

  I woke up early, the plan already formed in my mind. I put on some fresh gloves and opened the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet and took out a pair of black binoculars that I had received four Christmases ago. No one had touched them since, which was a good thing—they’d be entirely germ-free.

  I went to the office, knelt down in front of the windowsill, and rested my elbows on the ledge as I pointed the lenses outside. It took a while to adjust them properly, but slowly the red bricks of the Rectory came into focus. I looked around. The lamp was still off, and the flowers at the top of her steps, which she used to water at ten o’clock every morning, had died. One hung limply over the side, as if making a last-ditch attempt to make a run for it and find water. Why had she neglected them? And was the lamp off because she didn’t need it on anymore? Had she found a replacement for her lost son, Michael? I fixed on a small triangle of space in the corner of her bedroom window and waited.

  Dad got in the shower and Mum padded past without seeing me and went downstairs. I could hear her talking to Nigel, who was meowing loudly for breakfast. Twenty minutes later Dad came out of the shower and he didn’t notice me either as he went downstairs.

  Forty-six minutes I sat in that position. Forty-six. My arms were so numb I felt like I could just get up, walk away, and leave them there, binoculars in my hands permanently fixed on the Rectory. While I was blinking a few times to try and clear my drying eyes, I saw a flash of something brushing the curtain along the top windowsill. I tried to zoom in and fiddled with the little wheel at the bridge of my nose, but everything blurred. I twisted it the other way and the view cleared again. There was another flash as it darted one way, then back again. Whatever it was, it was quick—quicker than an old woman. My hands trembled a little and I took a deep breath and concentrated hard on a small gap in the curtain, willing it to move again. Then an old, white hand appeared and pulled the heavy curtains shut. I scanned the rest of the house, but there was nothing else to see. I sat back for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest.

  “I’ve found him,” I said aloud. “I know exactly who’s got him!”

  I ran to the bathroom, peeling off the gloves and washing my hands with lots and lots of hot water and soap, ignoring the pain. My breathing was fast, but this time it was due to excitement, not anxiety. My face felt tense, and when I looked in the mirror I saw I had a big, wide grin. I chuckled to myself and put on a fresh pair of gloves before quickly getting dressed. I ran downstairs and, not letting myself think about what I was actually doing, I marched quickly outside and over to Mr. Charles’s house.

  I banged on the front door with my elbow. As I stood on the path next t
o the rosebushes where Teddy had been picking petals so recently, my legs began to shake. Mr. Charles opened the door in his dressing gown.

  “Mr. Charles! You need to get someone to go around to the Rectory. She’s got Teddy in there!” I said, perhaps a little too happily.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  “I’m sorry, Matthew. What was that?” he said and he stepped out, closing the door a little behind him. He looked left and right. Everywhere but at me.

  “It’s Old Nina! She’s got Teddy in there!”

  He folded his arms. “Now why would you think that?”

  “I saw something up there in that bedroom.”

  I pointed up at the window now obscured by a tree. Mr. Charles looked toward the old house.

  “What? What did you see?”

  “I-I saw something flash across the glass. Something small and fast.”

  I grinned, but Mr. Charles was frowning.

  “And it was Teddy? This flash you saw was my grandson?”

  I shrugged.

  “I think so. I-I don’t know …”

  The old man rubbed his chin.

  “And her lamp’s been turned off,” I continued. “It’s been like that since he went missing.”

  Mr. Charles looked at me directly now, his face blank.

  “So?”

  I was fidgeting and I tried to keep still.

  Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

  A telephone was ringing inside Mr. Charles’s house. I tried not to count the rings, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “The lamp being turned off means she’s not waiting for her lost son to come home anymore. And … and she’s got this thing stuck in her tree that looks like a kid’s T-shirt!”

  The phone had rung five times now.

  “A T-shirt?” said Mr. Charles, interested now.

  Seven. It was up to seven rings. I shook my head. I had to stop counting.

  “Yes! Maybe. I’m … I’m not sure.”

  I realized I should have at least waited until Melody had investigated that part. Mr. Charles looked around again. I was being erased from his line of vision.