by Sam Taylor
You’re still my little girl, you know
(Wine fumes and stubble, hairy hands grasping mine)
I know, Pa
And I’m still your Pa, aren’t I?
(Yellowish eyes, greedy and pathetic, fireless now)
Of course
I love you Alice, please always remember that, no matter what I
(He’s slurring his words but telling the truth)
It’s OK, Pa, I love you too. And I know
(I’m pronouncing correctly but lying)
My little girl
I have done nothing but in care of thee, of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter. O, a cherubin thou wast that did preserve me!
(How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.)
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.
I will rise now, and go about the island, and in the fields and woods I will seek him whom my soul loveth.
I fetch a thick fleece from the bedroom and put it on. In the kitchen I take a bunch of grapes from the bowl, then move outside, closing the door behind me. The click of it shutting, and then silence. I put a grape in my mouth and crush it between my back teeth: the pip crunches, splinters, and the sweet juice flows over my tongue.
Yes, the sky is lightening now
XVIII
The silence is noisy as Hell. In the grey sultry midafternoon heat, birds and cicadas and bees and flies all twitter and pritter and buzz away; Goldie snores at the feet of his new master (who was it said dogs were loyal fuckers? They lie); and there’s the clatter and clink of forks and knives on greasy plates, the gross symphony of chewing swallowing sniffing made by the four of us (me, Finn, Alice, HIM) at the table, and the awful deep harking of poor Daisy’s cough, coming through the open window of her bedroom.
I eat some more flesh of The Deer That Will Killed. It is ASHES in my mouth. I drink more wine to help it down. God knows I hate the taste, the humiliation, but I need the strength it gives if I am ever to. Fuck it. I eat drink breathe hatred now, but it’s no more than a drip-feed. It comes daily, in the same measure, and I need more and more of it merely to remain as I am. It will never give me the heart or muscle or the WILL to do what needs to be done. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay. But the Lord was not feeble; he did not have a heart condition.
Hark hark hark. And then. Prayerrrrr. Spit in the bucket, her bubbling froth of phlegm streaked with blood. Poor Daisy. HE has contaminated her. She was never ill like this before. HE has damaged Finn’s faith in me. HE has even stolen my dog from me. Man’s best friend. Ever faithful companion. Fuck it.
As for Alice … O that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the fall of my beloved daughter! And yet, I am almost used to it now. I do not follow them any more. I do not watch over them, or seek to prevent their iniquities. I am blind. I turn a blind eye. But in my head and in my heart I am counting. Each kiss they steal is a blade in me that will equal a blade in HIM. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, and the wages of sin is DEATH.
I am sick and tired of all this.
I am sick and I am tired.
I stand up. ‘I’m going to check on Daisy.’
‘Of course.’ The viper’s smile is polite, tolerant, respectful, generous, but I see the cunning and the malice and the venomous fangs beneath it. Get thee behind me, Satan. I walk into the ark, through the kitchen, and knock softly on Daisy’s door.
Hark hark. ‘Come.’ Hark. ‘In.’
I open the door, and there she is, my little girl, her face pale grey and shiny with sweat, golden hairs sticking to her forehead, kneeling in supplication before the reeking bucket.
‘Hey Pa.’ She hugs my knees as I stroke the crown of her head.
‘Hey Daisy.’ I kneel down next to her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘A little better, I …’ Hark hark hark. ‘Better than I …’ Hark hark hark. ‘Well …’ HARK. HARK. HARK. PRAYERRRRR.
I rub her back. She looks up at me out of one teary eye and murmurs, ‘Say “There there” Pa.’
‘There there, Daisy.’ I rub her back some more. Then with the other hand, I stroke her hair back from her damp forehead and hold it in a pony tail as she coughs up more gunge into the bucket. Poor little Daisy. ‘There there, honey.’
‘It does work, doesn’t it?’ she says, when she’s recovered from the last coughing fit. ‘When you say “There there”, I always feel better, don’t I?’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s really magic, isn’t it Pa? Alice says words can’t heal you, but they can, can’t they?’
‘They can if they’re said with love.’
‘I love you Pa,’ she says suddenly, as though some great wave of emotion has forced the words from her mouth, and holds me tight around the chest.
‘I love you too Daze. Very much.’
We stay like that for a while, until she says, ‘I’m hungry.’
‘Shall I make you some broth? That’d be good for you.’
She nods. ‘I think I might go to bed for a while.’
‘Feeling sleepy?’
‘Uh-huh.’
She gets in bed and I lay the sheet over her chest, kiss her forehead – ‘Good girl’ – and go to the kitchen to make the broth. But HE and Finn are washing the dishes, there’s no space, so I go outside and find Alice bent over the table, scrubbing it with a cloth. She’s wearing Mary’s white dress cut off at the as is the mother so is the daughter therefore will I discover thy skirts upon thy face that thy shame may Stop. I swallow and look away.
You have to tell her.
She doesn’t listen.
You have to try.
I’ve tried, she never
You have to try AGAIN.
‘Alice, can I talk to you?’
‘Go ahead.’ Still scrubbing. Her voice cold, neutral.
‘Can we go somewhere more …?’
She stops scrubbing and looks up at me. ‘Not again.’
‘I need to talk to you. Let’s go behind the ark. It’s cooler there.’
She sighs. I take that as a yes, and walk round the ark, into shadow. A few seconds later, she follows. I sit with my back to the wooden wall, looking out at fields and sea, and pat the long grass next to me. Alice remains standing, her arms folded.
‘What do you want to say?’
‘You think you love him, don’t you?’
‘I do love him. I don’t need to think about it at all.’
‘He doesn’t love you.’
‘Yes he does.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I … know.’
‘It’s wishful thinking, Alice. You think he loves you because you think you love him and …’
‘I do love him.’
‘… and you want him to love you in the same way, but he doesn’t, Alice. He doesn’t. He’s lying. He’s using you.’
Her smile, cool and ironic, wobbles a little. ‘And how would you know?’
‘Because I know who …’
Tell her who he is.
I can’t.
You must.
She must never
‘Because I know what he is.’
‘What he is? A man, you mean?’
‘You’re so young, Alice. You’re not worldly wise. That’s not your fault, of course, but you don’t understand why people sometimes say and do things that aren’t necessarily …’
She starts quoting Shakespeare at me, implying that I’m Prospero, and Will her Ferdinand. She’s so clever, such a clever girl, but she’s blind and deaf and doesn’t even know it. I begin to grow angry.
‘You’re not listening to me, Alice.’
‘Why should I listen to you tell me what I can and can’t feel?’
‘That’s not what I’m …’
‘Who I can and can’t fall in love with?’
‘Jesus fucking Christ. It’s a teenage in
fatuation, Alice. We all go through them, we all grow out of them.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You grew up surrounded by thousands of other people. I’m …’
‘Yes yes, I know. But that’s no reason to …’
‘What do you think is going to happen to me? Who else will I ever meet, here on this island?’
Her words pierce me. ‘Listen Alice, I understand it’s not easy for you, but try to be reasonable …’
‘But what you’re saying isn’t reasonable! If we’re the only people left in the world …’
‘I said maybe, I didn’t say …’
‘… then you’ll die and we’ll die and that will be the end. It makes no sense. If you think God saved us alone of all the human race, then how …’
Then how? Then how? I don’t know I flash on Lot’s daughters preserving their father’s seed (they got him drunk it wasn’t his fault how could it be a sin?) and look at Alice, I shudder, NO, and she reads my mind her face creases with disgust and
‘I would rather die than do it with a filthy old man like you. Even if you weren’t my father …’
The horizon turns red. Woe unto her that striveth with her maker! Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou?
‘Don’t accuse me of …’
My fists clench.
‘Go on,’ she whispers, with teasing harlot eyes. ‘Do it again.’
‘Alice, don’t make me lose my fucking temper.’
‘Go on, hit me! Hit me! Go on, make me cry! That’s all you …’
Tears are pouring from her eyes, suddenly, and I am unmanned. My little girl.
Sorry I’m so fucking sorry what do you want me to
‘Alice.’
But she is gone. I follow her round the corner of the ark, and see her lost in HIS arms. He stares at me over her trembling shoulders.
You fucking touch my daughter and I’ll fucking
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ His voice cold, superior, filled with contempt.
I have used thee, filth as thou art, with human care … till thou didst seek to violate the honour of my child.
Calm down, calm. I close my eyes
XIX
Yes, the sky is lightening now. I walk round the side of the ark and take the path that leads past the chicken shed his face deformed by fury his two coarse hands covering the delicate neck. A cockerel shrieks, and afterwards the silence seems to deepen. What can I hear? Some wind, perhaps; the faint shiver of leaves. I eat more grapes and keep walking. The air I breathe is dark grey, and so are all the objects around me: I can see where I’m going easily enough, but no colours emerge from the gloom. This is how the island was in my dream.
The heady smell of wine reaches my nostrils. I look over the vines stretching across to my right and remember the great barrels in the bamboo hut at the back of the ark. We picked and crushed the grapes three days ago. I love the taste of the new wine: it is still light and fizzy and has the same sweetness as these grapes. Only after the first moon does it begin to acquire that sourness, that heaviness which my father considers a sign of maturity. Animals are the same, and so are plants: in each living thing, youth is bliss and freshness, and all that follows weary decline. Oh let me stay young forever or let me.
I glance at the sky: there is still time. I walk back towards the hut. Inside, the air is cool and thick with fermentation. I climb the ladder of the nearest barrel, push aside the lid, and pull the string that dangles from its rim. The ladle emerges and I pour the dark grey liquid into my mouth. It tastes red. Another spoon, and another: a smile spreads across my face. Am I tipsy? Oh, what if I am! That which hath made him drunk hath made me bold, what hath quenched him hath given me fire.
I walk through the cornfield, the ranks of grey soldiers leaning over me, their coarse leaves brushing my face, and keep on until I reach the last line of apple trees. There, I turn and look backwards, but the ark is invisible behind the high curtain of maize. Feeling the tension drain from my body – they are all sleeping, they will not find me – I continue up the slope, over the hill, across the river. Ssssshhhhh … the water telling me to be quiet, not to make a sound.
I walk along the fence that divides the sheep from the goats. I am on the sheepside. I can see them, pale little clouds huddled in the far corner. Some of them start towards me, so I climb the fence, but the same thing happens with the goats. Wind and Rain come running, their meh-mehs so hopeful and excited that I do not have the heart to ignore them. I crouch down for a moment and stroke their warm flanks. This is all they want: caresses, love; they do not even meh for food. ‘Rain, my Rain’
He came in while I was eating breakfast, while the others were out working
Phew, it’s hot already out there. Nice and cool in here. Your father made this place, huh?
I didn’t speak. I was too busy trying to eat the pancake without spilling blackberry jelly down my chin. I was blushing frantically at the thought of my hair, all frizzy from the night. Why did he have to come here so early? I hated him
Finn said this was your ark, that you all escaped the great flood inside it
His face was expressionless. I didn’t know how to respond. Did he think Finn’s story was childish nonsense, or did he believe it? How had he escaped the flood? I said nothing, drank my mint tea. I couldn’t look him in the eyes
You know Alice, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who disliked me so intensely as soon as they met me. Usually it takes a few days at least. A lopsided grin as he said this. What did I do to offend you?
Nothing I mumbled, standing up and taking my plate and cup to the sink
If you tell me what I did wrong, I might be able to put it right
You didn’t do anything to offend me I replied. I washed the plate and cup, then put them on the draining board. I’ve got to go and work now
Listen, I know this is your island. Your family’s, I mean. I know I came uninvited; that I’m an intruder, if you like. But
It’s fine, I’m not offended. My voice had gone lighter, higher. I faked a smile. But I’ve got to go and work. He was blocking my way. My eyes were at the level of his shoulders, his throat. I trembled slightly. So if you’d let me pass
What work are you going to do? Maybe I could help
I’ve got to milk the goats first but
Oh will you show me how to milk the goats? Then maybe I wouldn’t be quite so useless. I’d like to earn my keep at least. It seems wrong that you should keep sharing all your food and wine with me when I
All right, I’ll show you
It wasn’t worth arguing with him; he would only keep asking until I said yes. And anyway
We walked to the field where the goats were and I fetched the bucket and stool from their shelter. I placed the stool beside Rain, the bucket underneath, and stroked her back and head. She was the easiest. I didn’t want to make myself look any more foolish in front of him. He knelt on the grass next to me, one hand resting on a leg of the stool. I could hardly breathe
Slowly the steady pulsing relaxed me. The hypnotic prrrddt-prrrddt of liquid hitting metal: the sound of morning, and solitude. Yes, solitude, that was it. I was on my own; there was no one else around. I closed my eyes, leaned my forehead against Rain’s flank, inhaled her goatish, earthy smell
Could I try?
I stood up and moved behind him. He smiled at me and sat on the stool
What’s her name?
Rain
He stroked her flank. Don’t worry Rain, I’m not going to hurt you. I may not be quite as smooth as Alice, but I’ll do my best
You’ve done this before I said, accusing
Never. I swear
His hands, finer, smoother, gentler than my father’s, squeezed and teased the last jets of milk from Rain
It took me ages to learn to do it that well
Maybe I had a better teacher than you?
I thought of Pa, frowning and muttering over my shoulder, and allowed a half-smile to show. N
o, I think you’re just a natural. If you’re telling the truth about never having done it before
He looked back over his shoulder. Why would I lie?
I shrugged. She’s done
Oh. He stood up from the stool and stroked Rain affectionately on the back. Then he picked up the bucket as if it weighed nothing. As if it were empty. Where does the milk go, Alice?
In the big churn, behind the ark
He blinked in acknowledgement and walked away. I stood still, stroking Rain, watching his figure recede
‘Oh Rain, you would miss him too, wouldn’t you?’ I nuzzle her, nose to nose, then, very firmly, I say goodbye and flee, knowing she will follow, but that she cannot pass through the boundary of her little world; that she must remain here, waiting for me, missing me. Is that how he will treat me? Is that all he feels for me?
I skip over the fence at the field’s end, and walk up the next slope. I do not look back. Approaching the lake I
You said you’d take me
Oh not again Alice please it’s so hot can’t we just
You promised you’d take me and you broke your promise
I didn’t promise. I said I
You promised. On my hundred and sixtieth moonday, you said
That’s how you remember it
Pa don’t lie to me, don’t treat me like I’m Daisy
Stop shouting, Alice
Why, who’s going to hear? I thought we were the only ones left in the world
Finn and Daisy get upset when you shout, you know they do
Damn Finn! Damn Daisy!
He looked at the ground. Through the trees I could hear my sister splashing in the shallow water of the lake. What exactly is it you want to know?
I don’t know what I want to know, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? How can I know until I know?
like something has been stolen from my life and I can’t even
You’re not making much sense Alice
Lots of things don’t make sense here
Like what? Maybe I can explain
Like the sea, I said. Quietly. Triumphantly. I had been thinking about the sea for a long, long time
A telltale pause, then an inhalation of breath
