Heaven Eyes

by David Almond

  “Nobody’s been,” I whispered.

  He stared, as if he stared right through me.

  “Ghosts!” he whispered.

  Heaven trembled. She gripped his arm with her webbed fingers.

  January rose and came to us.

  “Nobody’s been,” he said.

  Grampa looked down at Mouse.

  “You is my Little Helper?” he said.

  “Yes,” said Heaven. “Yes, he is your Little Helper.”

  Tears were trickling down her cheeks.

  “Climb,” said Grampa. “Go up where them boxes are. Check them isn’t opened, Little Helper.”

  Mouse rubbed the sleep from his eyes and started to climb. I stood beneath him, ready to catch him if he fell. He reached the top shelf.

  “Is them boxes tight?” said Grampa.

  Mouse stretched, shaking the lids of the boxes one by one.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Is them ropes and belts still fastened tight?”

  “Yes.”

  Grampa sighed.

  “Come on down, then,” he whispered.

  His eyes were red-rimmed. He stared at the footprint. He scratched his beard and the black dust fell from it. He looked old, old. He held Heaven against him.

  “See?” she whispered.

  He pointed to the footprint. She reached out and swept it away with her fingers.

  “Is nothing,” she whispered, and her voice was shaking.

  He licked his lips, lost in the mystery.

  “Is nothing,” Heaven said again. “You is having sleep thoughts and imaginings, Grampa.”

  “There is been no ghosts?” he said.

  “There is been no ghosts, Grampa.”

  She led him back to his desk. He sat there gazing into nothingness while she stroked his head. Then he lifted his pencil and started scribbling again.

  Heaven Eyes lay down beside me and wept.

  I stroked her hair.

  “It’ll be all right,” I said.

  “No, Erin. Never no.”

  She twisted and turned for hours, unable to sleep.

  “That Janry Carr!” she whispered. “That Janry Carr! He has got me telling fibs and lies and wrongness. Oh, Erin. Oh, my sister Erin Law.”

  THE BOOTS WERE DRIED OUT AND TWISTED. Massive toecaps stuck out way beyond his toes. The tops came almost to his knees. Grampa lashed them around Mouse’s calves with string. The shorts were navy blue and hung on Mouse’s body like a dress. The shovel had a thick bleached timber handle and a rusted blade. Mouse stood before us blinking. His body was pale, skinny and bony. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and pride. Squeak crouched at his feet, looked up at him and squeaked.

  Heaven clapped her hands with joy.

  “Oh Mouse! Oh little lovely Mouse! How lovely you does look!”

  She gazed into my eyes.

  “Tell him, Erin! Tell him how lovely him does look!”

  I straightened my face.

  “Yes,” I said. “You look lovely, Mouse.”

  Grampa stood at a distance and pondered.

  “You does look fine, Little Helper,” he said. “Your bucket is at the door next to mine. Tonight we will go out digging and treasuring.”

  “Okay, Grampa,” said Mouse.

  He raised his hand to his brow, like a salute.

  Heaven giggled.

  “Did you hear? Did you hear? ‘Okay, Grampa.’ Just like a proper helper. Oh, Mouse. We is that proud of you! Now we will get that treasure even faster!”

  She popped a chocolate cream into her mouth and skipped around the room. Grampa put his helmet on. He fastened his jacket tight. Heaven calmed herself.

  “Time for patrolling, Grampa,” she said.

  “Time for patrolling.”

  He looked up at the shelves, at the boxes by the ceiling. He leaned close to the shelf where the footprint had been. He pondered.

  He took a key from his pocket and opened the drawer in his desk. He took out the carving knife.

  “We must be careful, Heaven Eyes,” he said.

  “Yes, Grampa. We must be careful as careful.”

  She made a face at January as Grampa wrapped the knife in a cloth and angled it down into his jacket pocket.

  Grampa locked the drawer again. He kissed Heaven Eyes. He saluted Mouse. He looked through January and me like we weren’t there. Then he stepped out into the printing works.

  “Get those stupid things off, Mouse,” said January.

  Mouse blinked and blushed. He leaned the shovel against the wall and lifted his clothes from the bed.

  Heaven shook her head sadly.

  “Let’s go wandering and talking about mums and dads and treasures, Erin,” she whispered.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I glared at January. I pointed at him.

  “Don’t do it again,” I said.

  He winked. He spoke like Heaven Eyes.

  “As if I would, Erin, my bestest bestest friend.”

  He sighed.

  “Anyway, I’m starving.”

  “There is chocolates an corned beef,” said Heaven Eyes.

  “Chocolates and corned beef!”

  He went to the door.

  “I’ll see what else there is, eh?”

  “Be careful,” I said.

  “Careful!”

  “Remember the knife.”

  He grinned and patted his pocket, where his own knife rested. He strolled out into the printing works. Heaven shook her head sadly. She shook my hand.

  “That Janry Carr,” she whispered.

  Then her face brightened again.

  “Come on, Erin. Come and tell me all those funny tales about mums and dads.”

  We sat together in the doorway again and leaned against each other. We talked of these great mysteries while Grampa patrolled and Jan plundered and Mouse played and whispered to little Squeak.

  Jan returned, ages later, with a box in his arms. He dropped it onto the ground in front of us. It was filled with food and drink: tins of beans and peas and fruit; packets of cookies; tomato ketchup; boxes of dried milk; cereals; cans of Coke; jars of coffee; packets of tea.

  “It’s like a bloody treasure-house out there!” he laughed.

  Heaven stared wide-eyed with her hands against her face.

  Jan shoved a bar of fruit-and-nut chocolate into my hand. He ripped open a packet of Hob Nobs and held it toward Heaven.

  “Go on,” he said. “Take one.”

  “These things is to last for long long long, Janry Carr,” she said.

  “And they will! You could feed an army with what’s out there.”

  “And there is great joy in knowing that there is boxes waiting forever to be opened.”

  “Great joy! Go on, take one. Take one.”

  She chewed her lips.

  “And what will Grampa say?”

  “Grampa!”

  He shoved a cookie into his mouth and chewed. He sighed with pleasure. She reached out and touched the packet.

  “Grampa will know nothing,” whispered Jan. “Take one. Go on, be a devil.”

  She leaned on me as she reached out and took one, as she lifted it to her mouth and began to nibble.

  “Nice?” I said.

  “Mmm. Nice as nice.”

  She looked down into the box.

  “We must hide these things,” she said. “They will angry Grampa.”

  “Where could we hide them?” said Jan.

  She pointed to one of the biggest printing machines.

  “Mebbe in the darkness under there,” she said. “He will not eye them.”

  Jan scuttled across the floor with the box. He crouched and shoved it into the darkness. He grinned back at us.

  “Good idea, Heaven Eyes,” he said.

  Heaven chewed her lips. She leaned on me.

  “I is getting bad,” she said.

  “No, you’re not,” I said.

  Jan winked at her.

  She looked sideways at me
, and blushed.

  NIGHT. The moon shone down. Music blared from distant Norton Quay. We lay together on the broken ground, gazing down to the Black Middens. January was somewhere in the shadows behind us. Mouse and Grampa splashed together across the mud. Mouse slithered and stumbled in his new boots. He dragged his heavy bucket and shovel behind him.

  “You must be that proud,” said Heaven Eyes. “Your friend Mouse as Grampa’s Little Helper.”

  “Yes, Heaven Eyes.”

  I slipped her a Hob Nob from my pocket.

  “Lovely,” she said.

  She wriggled and giggled.

  We watched them, black glistening shapes against the black glistening Middens. We heard Grampa:

  “Little Helper!”

  “Yes, Grampa?” called Mouse.

  “Memory! You must show me everything that you does find!”

  “Okay, Grampa!”

  “Okay, Little Helper! Get that shovel digging.”

  We heard the sucking and slapping as they started to dig. I put my arm around her. She was so small, truly like a little sister. The sky above the city burned. The air was filled with the sound of the flowing river, of distant traffic, of the city’s low endless roar. Mouse went to Grampa with something that he’d found in the mud. Grampa held it up to the moon, then slung it far out into the river. Mouse turned back to his digging.

  “Heaven Eyes,” I said. “Do you sometimes think there will be no treasures?”

  “Oh, Erin. All them questions you does ask.”

  “Do you sometimes think there might be nothing?”

  “Him does dig things out every night.”

  “But they’re not treasures, Heaven Eyes.”

  “No, Erin.”

  “You do think it. You do sometimes think that there will be no treasures.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “In mine sleep thoughts I does think that, Erin.”

  Mouse found more. He took it to Grampa. Grampa threw it into the river. Mouse went back to his digging. He dug deeper and deeper. The mound of mud beside him grew. We saw him going further down. He stood in a waist-deep hole, then in a chest-deep hole.

  “Little Mouse is good as good at the digging,” said Heaven Eyes.

  “He is,” I said. “Be careful, Mouse!” I called.

  “Never fear,” said Heaven Eyes. “Grampa will make sure all is well with his Little Helper.”

  I held her gently.

  “Tell me about your sleep thoughts, Heaven Eyes,” I whispered. “Tell me what you see in them.”

  “Oh, Erin. These things is secret as secret.”

  “Whisper them.”

  “These is things that does angry Grampa. These is things that does turn him wild.”

  “Whisper them. I am your sister, Heaven Eyes.”

  “You will tell nobody nothing?”

  “I will tell nobody nothing.”

  She held her fingers up to the moon. She breathed deeply.

  “In my sleep thoughts I is like a ghost,” she whispered. “I is with them that is like ghosts.”

  “Who are they, Heaven Eyes?”

  “No way of telling, Erin. They is close by me. They is holding me and touching me. They is whispering lovely things. They is touching my fingers and whispering lovely lovely things.”

  “Can you see their faces?”

  “Happy faces. Sweet an kind.”

  “What do they look like, Heaven Eyes?”

  “The loveliest has hair that is like the sun and eyes that is like the runny water. She has shiny silver on her neck and flowers on her body.”

  “What else, Heaven Eyes?”

  “There is another further out. I cannot eye him proper. Him is shadowed like under the printing press. And there is others, sometimes little, sometimes big. And I cannot eye these proper either. They is little figures, like the ghosts across the runny water. But they is smiling and laughing.”

  She gasped and nibbled a Hob Nob.

  “You must say nothing about these things,” she said.

  “I will say nothing.”

  She sighed. We watched Mouse digging down.

  “The loveliest is that lovely, Erin. She does make me cry sometimes in my sleeping.”

  “What does she whisper, Heaven Eyes?”

  “Little words and whisperings. She does tell me I is lovely.”

  “Does she call you Heaven Eyes?”

  “No, Erin.”

  “What does she call you?”

  Her voice grew smaller, became the quietest whisper.

  “Tell nobody,” she said.

  “Nobody.”

  “She does whisper Anna, Anna, little Anna.”

  “Anna? That’s your name?”

  “My name is Heaven Eyes. Anna is my name in sleeping time. Anna is my fibbing and imagining name. Anna is the name that must never get telt to nobody, specially to Grampa.”

  She gripped my hand.

  “You must not tell him of these things, Erin.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “Once way back. Way way back. He did say these things was lies and wrongnesses. He was wild, Erin. Wild as wild. You must not tell him nothing. Nothing.”

  “Nothing,” I whispered.

  I held her tight. I thought of all the other questions I wanted to ask. The moon shone down. Mouse and Grampa dug and glistened. The mud sucked and splashed.

  “Heaven …,” I said.

  “Don’t ask nothing more, Erin.”

  “But Heaven Eyes …”

  And I was about to ask her more, when a scream came from below us. Mouse slithered and scrambled from his hole. He ran across the Black Middens. He shouted my name again and again. He screamed. He ran across the raft, climbed the ladder. He came over the edge. He trembled, gasped, howled my name. Water and mud splashed down from him.

  “Erin! Erin!”

  I jumped up and got hold of him.

  “Mouse! What is it, Mouse?”

  His mouth gaped and his eyes were wild.

  “A body!” he yelled. “There’s a body in the Middens, Erin.”

  He shuddered and wept.

  Below us, Grampa leaned on his shovel and gazed up through the moonlight at us.

  “MURDER!” said January.

  We huddled together on the quay. Heaven Eyes stood frantic at our side.

  “Murder!” he said.

  He took out his knife and gripped it in his fist.

  “Murder!” he said. “That’s what his secret is. Bloody murder!”

  We stared down at the Middens. Grampa stood above the hole that Mouse had made. He stepped down into it and the blackness of his body was taken into the blackness of the Middens.

  “What was it like?” said January.

  Mouse gasped and jabbered.

  “A body. A body. I felt it there. Thought it was something. Put my hand in the mud. Felt fingers there. Felt a hand sticking up. Saw it shining in the moonlight. Like it was reaching up at me, but icy cold an still.”

  “Still as still,” I whispered.

  “Still as still, Erin.”

  “What else?” said January. “What about the face?”

  Mouse gaped at him.

  “A face? Didn’t want to see no face. Didn’t want to—”

  “He’s coming!” I hissed.

  We looked down. He splashed over the Middens, carrying the shovels and buckets.

  January reached out and grabbed Heaven by the throat.

  “Murder!” he spat into her face. “Murder! Who has Grampa murdered, Heaven Eyes?”

  Tears streamed down her face. She reached out to me.

  “Erin! Erin!”

  I pulled her from him.

  “The ax!” he said. “The ax beside the desk. Come on!”

  We hurried through the pitch-black alleys to the printing works. Heaven sobbed and sobbed.

  “You is wrong!” she whimpered. “Erin, tell Janry Carr that Janry Carr is wrong!”

  We rushed beneath the outstretched w
ings to the office. I saw January’s footprints on the shelves. Objects that had been on the shelves were scattered on the floor.

  January grabbed the ax. I took his knife. Mouse and Heaven cried. We stood and waited.

  “Mebbe he’s done in lots of kids like us that’s come here,” said January.

  He glared at Heaven.

  “Speak!” he said. “How many kids has Grampa fettled? How many has he killed?”

  She sheltered at my back.

  January cursed and spat. He stared at me. He caught his breath.

  “Her family,” he said. “What happened to her family?”

  I gripped the knife.

  “Dunno,” I said. “I don’t know.”

  We watched each other.

  “It can’t be,” I whispered.

  “Can’t it?”

  He dug into his pocket. He showed a photograph. It was cracked and creased. It was a family—mother, father, children—smiling out at us. The mother had blond hair, blue eyes, she wore a brightly colored floral summer frock. She held a baby in her arms. I couldn’t speak. My heart thundered and my head roared. I held the photograph to my face. I tried to see the baby’s fingers. Then Heaven was at my side. She caught the edge of the picture with her webbed hands.

  “Erin,” she whispered. “Oh, Erin. This is my sleep thoughts, Erin.”

  I let her take it from me. She squatted on the floor and gazed at it in wonder.

  “It’s from up there,” said January. He nodded upward to the ceiling. His eyes widened. “That’s it! He’s done them all in! Bloody murder!”

  “No,” I said.

  “Ask her.”

  I stared at Heaven Eyes, who trembled on the floor.

  “Anna,” I whispered.

  “Not that name, Erin.”

  “Anna. Anna. What else do you see in your sleep thoughts?”

  “Nothing! Nothing nothing nothing! That Janry Carr is all lies and fibs and wrongnesses!”

  She jumped at him with her fingers spread like claws. He shoved her off. She sprawled on the office floor. He spat and cursed. He glared at me.

  “You,” he said. “You’re the one that made us stay with these freaks and crazies. So you better make sure you help me to do him in.”

  We stood there, gasping, whimpering, listening.

  Then the sound of Grampa’s footsteps came out of the night and approached the door.

  HE CAME IN DRIPPING MUD AND WATER, black as night. His shoulders were huge. He dropped the shovels and buckets and they clattered to the floor. He stood stock-still, staring at January with the ax raised above his head, at me with the knife gripped in my fist and pointed toward him.