Heaven Eyes

by David Almond

  I closed my eyes. The voice circled and searched and circled and searched. I went back deep into my dark.

  “Erin Law!”

  It was closer.

  “I eye you, Erin Law!”

  I grunted.

  “Keep still. Keep still as still.”

  “What?”

  “I eye you. Keep still and Heaven Eyes will come to you.”

  I stared into the dark, saw nothing. Impossible to see anything in such deep deep dark. Heard the footsteps in the litter coming nearer, heard her breath as she came nearer, heard the rustle of her clothes as she came nearer. But saw nothing. Then the touch of her fingers on my face.

  “Oh my sister Erin Law! What is you doing in this deep deep dark?”

  “I DID TELL YOU,” she said. “I did tell you there is holes in the ground where the darkness and the dangers is. You must watch out for them, my sister.”

  She wiped the slime from my face with her gentle fingers.

  “There is places to tumble out the world and not be found again,” she said. “You must watch out for them.”

  We stood beyond the dangling door in the rubble and litter below a broken roof. She stroked my face. My eyes stung, adjusting to the light. My head reeled.

  “What is this place?” I said.

  No answer.

  “What is it? Is it evil? Is it mad?”

  “What is you mouthing, Erin Law?”

  “What are you?” I whispered.

  “I is Heaven Eyes, my sister.”

  “What is Grampa?”

  “He is my grampa, my sister.”

  “What is this place?”

  “Is the place of Heaven Eyes and Grampa, my sister.”

  Birds sang and flapped through ruined rafters high above. Things sighed and slithered through the cellars below.

  “Is it life?” I said. “Or is it death?”

  She blinked, confused. She touched my face again.

  “What is you been thinking of deep down there, my sister?”

  She pushed a chocolate into my hand. I put it into my mouth and chewed.

  “Sweet,” I told her.

  “Sweetest thing of all.” She grinned. “Take more. Take more.”

  “What can I ask that you can answer?”

  She shrugged and smiled.

  “Ask nothing. Just chew the chocolate that is the sweetest thing of all.”

  “Why does Grampa want to kill us?”

  “Grampa is a good grampa. He will never never harm you.”

  I shook my head and laughed softly.

  “So what about the knife, Heaven Eyes?”

  “He did unmemory you.”

  “Unmemory?”

  “He did think you was ghosts or devils come to do shenanigans.”

  “He wanted to kill us, Heaven.”

  “Mebbe. So you must stay close with Heaven Eyes. You must never never be like ghosts. You must say Good Day, Grampa Caretaker. You must tell him that Heaven is loveliest of lovelies.”

  “What else?” I said.

  “Nothing else. And Grampa will be kind.”

  I laughed again.

  “Kind!”

  “Come see,” she said.

  I let her lead me by the hand toward the printing works. I kept turning toward the water, wanting to see Jan, but saw nothing. Then outside the office we saw him, lounging against a printing machine. I gasped with relief and spoke his name. He watched us coldly. I said his name again and he just shrugged. I ached to reach out to him. I ached for him to speak to me but he said nothing. I took a deep breath and let Heaven lead me into the office. The day was ending and the candles were burning. Grampa was scribbling in his great book. He munched at a slab of corned beef. His helmet was on the desk beside him.

  “See?” Heaven said. “Grampa is gentle now. He does unmemory many many things. He does write down many things an that is his memorying.”

  I looked at the great book. I watched his hand writing furiously. I imagined the thousands upon thousands of words that he must have written in this room by candlelight.

  “He must have written much about you?” I said.

  “Many many much, Erin. Many many many much while Heaven Eyes eats chocolates and sleeps and has funny thoughts and funny sleep memories.”

  “Have you read his books, Heaven?”

  Her face crinkled.

  “Have you read the things he has written?”

  “He has writ that Heaven Eyes is loveliest of lovelies, Erin Law.”

  “But what else?”

  “Else nothing.”

  January cursed from the doorway. He came toward us.

  “She can’t bloody read,” he said. He glared at her. “So where’s all his books, then?”

  She chewed her lips.

  “Oh, Janry Carr, this is one thing that does angry him.”

  “What does?”

  “There is Grampa’s secrets, Janry Carr. No looking. No touching.”

  January gazed about the room.

  “Where are the secrets, Heaven Eyes?”

  I felt her hand tremble against my arm.

  “Tell Janry Carr he must be stopping now,” she whispered.

  January laughed.

  “Tell Janry Carr he must not be like them ghosts looking and searching.”

  “You hear?” I said to January.

  He hissed. He glared at me.

  Grampa turned his eyes toward us. They glittered in the candlelight. They softened as they fell upon Heaven. She smiled at him.

  “I does love you, Grampa,” she whispered.

  “Love,” he murmured and wrote. “Love, love, love. Heaven Eyes and Grampa. Love, love, love.”

  “There,” said Heaven. “You does eye what gentleness he has? You does eye how he is kind?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Yes. He will do no harm.”

  January cursed under his breath.

  Mouse watched us from the shadows in a corner. Squeak tumbled through his fingers.

  Soon Grampa rose from the table. He took his jacket off.

  “Turn round,” said Heaven Eyes.

  We turned our eyes away. We heard Grampa undressing. When we looked back again, he wore nothing but a pair of black knee-length shorts. His skin was blue gray, with tracks of black sediment in the creases. He had a tattoo of an anchor on his hairy chest. His legs were skinny, he had a little potbelly, but there were great muscles on his arms and shoulders. He went to the door and pulled on a pair of huge boots. He bent down and kissed Heaven Eyes and his hair and beard fell over her pale shining face. He picked up a spade and a bucket and stepped out into the darkening night.

  “He is off treasuring,” said Heaven, and her eyes widened in excitement. “And mebbe tonight’s the moony night when Heaven’s treasure is chucked into the bucket.”

  “Can we go with him?” I asked.

  She smiled.

  “Oh, Erin,” she said. “Most definite you can. Come on, Janry Carr. Come on, Mouse and Squeak. Let’s eye Grampa digging in the moony starry night.”

  THE SKY GLITTERED ABOVE THE WAREHOUSES. We stumbled in potholes and grazed our knuckles on stone. Heaven glided before us, pale hair waving gently as she walked. Beyond her, the black shape of Grampa lurched toward the river. Closer to the river we saw the sky burning above the city. Hundreds of tiny lights marked the bridge’s arch. Distant steeples and blocks of flats were silhouetted against the sky. The river glowed like polished metal beneath the moon. There was far-off squealing from Norton Quay. Grampa stooped down, then turned and lowered himself onto the ancient ladder. His eyes glittered as he stared back at us.

  “Good evening, Grampa Caretaker!” called Heaven.

  “This is me with my friends, Erin, Janry and Mouse. We is patrolling and watching for ghosts.”

  He raised his hand, then descended.

  We squatted above and watched. He went to the raft and inspected it. He traced his fingers over January’s curse. Then he walked on and w
e heard his feet slopping and slithering in the mud. He started to dig. There were great sucks and slaps as he lifted the Middens, spadeful by spadeful. Water drained and splashed. He laid a heap of mud beside him, then crouched beside it and sifted through it with his fingers. He discovered many things. He held them up to the moon. He scraped away the mud on them. He threw some of them out into the river. He put others into his bucket. Then he lay down at the hole he had dug and reached deep down into it. He reached arm-deep into the Middens and searched and searched. New discoveries were thrown out into the river or dropped into the bucket. Then he shoved the heap back into the hole. He lifted the bucket, went to another part of the Middens, and began again. We lay down on the broken ground, faces dangling over the edge. A smell of oil and rot and fish rose from the Black Middens below. Sometimes a sudden stench passed over us and we gagged and held our breath until it had drifted away. Grampa slithered and dug and the moon shone down on him and he was like some ancient creature struggling there, like something made of the Middens mud himself.

  Mouse was wide-eyed and staring. He came close to me.

  “This is like me,” he said. “Like me, digging in the dirt for treasures.”

  I laughed.

  “Yes,” I said. “He’s just like you.”

  “There’ll be all sorts in there,” he said, “washed down by the river. There’ll be things from centuries back.”

  He looked at Heaven Eyes.

  “Could I go and help him?” he said.

  “Oh, Mouse,” she said. “That will be so nice for Grampa to have his little helper. Yes, Mouse, go and help. Grampa!” she called. “My friend Mouse is coming down to help in digging for the treasure.”

  Grampa turned, his eyes glittered, he waved.

  Mouse held Squeak up to his face.

  “Mouse is off to help Grampa find secrets,” he said. “Just like you help me.”

  He passed Squeak from his hands into mine.

  “Look after him,” he said.

  Squeak’s tiny sharp claws scrabbled on my palm. He peered out from my gently closed fist as Mouse left us.

  “Eek,” he squeaked. “Eek. Eek.”

  Mouse descended the ladder. He crouched on the Middens and started digging with his bare hands.

  “What’s the treasure he’s searching for?” I said to Heaven Eyes.

  “Treasure for Heaven Eyes.”

  “What is it, though?”

  “He does say that there is many treasures and secrets in these Middens. They has been carried there from way way back. He does say that one night he will find them and he will chuck them in his bucket.”

  We watched again.

  Jan sat up and stared toward the sea.

  The sucking and slapping went on below.

  “Has he found any of the treasure yet?” I said.

  “Little bits. He does say that he will discover more afore he is still as still.”

  “Still as still?”

  “Still as still. And he does say that the bestest of all treasures is already dug, and that treasure is his Heaven Eyes that he did dig out one moony starry night.”

  January sneered.

  “And he chucked you in the bucket, eh?”

  “Oh, Janry Carr. I’s too big for buckets. Does you not eye that?”

  January started prowling the quay behind us.

  I lay close to Heaven. I touched the webs on her fingers. She gazed at me with her huge pale shining eyes.

  “And are there other Heaven Eyes in the Middens?” I asked her.

  She blinked and pondered.

  “This is just mystery, Erin. But he does say that one day he might dig out Heaven’s brothers an Heaven’s sisters . He does say that they will care for Heaven Eyes when Grampa is still as still.”

  I put my arm around her.

  “Heaven,” I whispered. “Do you really think you have brothers and sisters somewhere?”

  “In these black Black Middens, yes.”

  “In other places, though. In the past.”

  “There is funny thoughts and sleep memories. In these there is mebbe sisters and brothers and many many strange things. But these we must not talk of, for they does angry Grampa.”

  “But could we whisper to them sometime?”

  She reached up and touched my cheek.

  “Mebbe,” she whispered. “Mebbe, mine sister.”

  And we lay together watching Grampa and Mouse, while Squeak tumbled through my fingers, and we did not notice that January had left us there.

  “WHERE IS JANRY CARR?” said Heaven.

  Below us, Grampa was digging his third hole. Mouse lay flat on the Middens with both arms deep into the mud. Heaven Eyes sat up and looked back toward the buildings.

  “Where is Janry Carr?”

  “Dunno,” I said.

  “Oh, Erin,” she said.

  “He’ll be okay,” I said. I laughed. “He’s a big boy, you know.”

  “But him has shenanigans on his mind, Erin.”

  “Should I go and find him?”

  She chewed her lips.

  “Both us go, Erin. And we must look very first in Grampa’s office.”

  We slipped away from the quay. I put Squeak into my pocket. We hurried through the alleyways and entered the printing works. Candlelight glinted through the boarded-up window of the office. Heaven hurried to the door and listened. Her eyes were filled with fear when she looked at me.

  “Janry Carr is in there,” she whispered. “Unless it is a ghost.”

  I heard him, moving about inside.

  “You go,” she said. “You go tell Janry Carr to stop.”

  I turned the handle.

  January was climbing on the shelves. He was halfway up the wall, reaching higher. He grinned when he saw me.

  “Down!” called Heaven Eyes. “Down, down!”

  She pushed me forward.

  “Tell,” she said. “Tell Janry Carr down, down.”

  “Get down,” I said.

  He held out a pair of rusty scissors and the bleached skeleton of a little fish.

  “Treasure!” he said.

  Heaven Eyes was sobbing.

  “Get down,” I said again.

  “Get down!” said Heaven Eyes. “You will angry Grampa. He will do his fettling on you.”

  Jan jumped back from the shelves and landed beside me.

  “But up there,” he said, pointing up to the highest shelves where dusty boxes rested. “Mebbe there’ll be something up there.”

  “No, Janry Carr,” said Heaven Eyes. “You must never go up there. You must never look inside them boxes.”

  He just laughed.

  “And look,” he said, crouching beside the desk. He showed me the locked drawer. “What about in there, eh?”

  He took his penknife from his pocket. He unfolded a thin blade and pushed it into the lock.

  “Tell him stop!” sobbed Heaven. “Just tell him stop.”

  I grabbed his hand. He laughed.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Heaven leaned on me and wept into her webbed hands. January winked.

  “But when they’re both out, eh?” he whispered.

  I glared back at him, but I knew that I wanted to open the boxes and the drawer just as much as he did.

  We sat down against the wall. I fed Heaven orange creams. I whispered that January would never never do those things again. I took Squeak from my pocket. I passed him to her. She watched as he tumbled through her fingers. She calmed down.

  “You’s so nice, Erin,” she whispered. She nuzzled against me. “And Janry Carr’s so nasty sometime.”

  Soon we heard footsteps crossing the printing floor. Grampa and Mouse came in, Grampa in his shorts, Mouse in his underclothes. They were soaked, water was running from them. Mouse’s eyed blazed with joy.

  “Magic!” he said. “Magic!”

  He knelt on the floor, opened his hands, spilled out a little heap of discoveries. There were blue pebbles, the skull of a tiny
animal, a coin, a red cup handle, a green plastic bowl.

  “See?” he said. “There must be so much there in that mud just waiting to be found.”

  Grampa carried his bucket to the desk. He laid his discoveries on the table. He put his clothes back on.

  “We dug,” said Mouse. “We dug and dug. I felt like I could go on digging to the middle of the world. Then the river started coming back again. We got washed in the Ouseburn.” He stared up at Grampa. “The things he must have found!” he whispered.

  Heaven Eyes stood with her arm around Grampa. She watched him with pride.

  “Tuesday,” said Grampa as he wrote. “Or some other day. Discoveries, several. Pie tins, one, rusted. One penny. Umpteen pop bottles, plastic. One hammer, minus handle. Two fishhooks, large and small. Objects slung into the river, many. Jewelry, none. Riches, none. Treasure, none. Helpers, one …”

  “That’s Mouse,” said Heaven.

  She beamed at us.

  “That’s my friend Mouse, Grampa. That’s who your little helper is.”

  “Name Mouse,” muttered Grampa as he wrote.

  He turned his head and looked at Mouse as if amazed to see him there.

  He wrote again.

  “One helper come out of the night, come out of the black Black Middens to help in the digging and the search for Heaven’s treasures.”

  “He will help you every night,” said Heaven.

  Grampa pondered; then he wrote again.

  “NB. Memory this, Grampa. This helper must have bucket, one, boots, two.”

  Heaven Eyes gasped.

  “Bucket and boots, Mouse! Grampa must be much much happy with you helping.”

  IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT NIGHT that we were all woken by Grampa.

  “Ghosts!” he called. “Ghosts! Ghosts!”

  We sat up from our beds on the floor.

  Grampa was standing by the shelves. He held a broken bird’s wing in his hand. There was a broken bottle on the floor at his feet.

  Heaven rushed to him.

  “There has been ghosts in here, little Heaven,” he said.

  He pointed to the shoeprint in the black dust on the shelves. I trembled. It was the unmistakable mark of Jan’s running-away sneakers. Grampa stared up at the closed boxes by the ceiling. He tried to climb the shelves but he was unsteady and he tumbled down again.

  His face was red and strained.