Slip of a Fish

by Amy Arnold

  Nelson, that’s his name.

  ‘It’s after Nelson Mandela,’ she said. ‘Have you heard of him?’

  He follows her around. He walks behind her from room to room. Right behind her. And when they’re walking she pats him. She pats him on his big head and says, ‘Nelson.’ She keeps saying Nelson. She keeps saying it the way I kept saying Charlie when she was brand new and I couldn’t believe she’d arrived.

  He follows her all the time. Every time she gets up, he follows her and when she can’t be followed he lies down with his body over her feet like he’s keeping her.

  This morning I went into her room and asked her if she wanted a game of Bird Bingo.

  ‘Nelson can come,’ I said. ‘He can come along.’

  I was standing in her room with the cards in my hand.

  I said, ‘Do you want to play?’ And I held the cards out towards her and on the top was the curlew.

  ‘Come and play,’ I said.

  ‘We’re busy,’ she said. ‘Busy, busy.’

  So I took Bird Bingo to Abbott’s study and paired the birds up myself, so at least they were sorted for the next time. I thought about putting them into alphabetical order, because we’ve always liked having the Arctic skua at the top.

  I was going to sort them, but Jay was outside on the sofa and I wanted to see if the girl in the LBD would come back. There are plenty of things to do, I was thinking. If Charlie’s busy, there are plenty of things I need to do. And I wanted to see if she was coming back, the girl in the LBD. I watched from the window for a while. I could hear Charlie talking to Nelson. I heard her laughing. They were thudding about, thumping about. They sounded busy. Busy, busy. I watched from the window. It didn’t feel like the girl would come and she didn’t. Nobody came.

  I stood at the window. Charlie was busy and Jay was on the sofa with his phone. I stood there and thought about the words inside the book with the flame on the cover. They were right next to me, on the shelf.

  I was standing next to the words. I wouldn’t have minded. I wouldn’t have minded at all if they’d started coming out of the book, one after the other. I wouldn’t have minded watching them come out and multiply, proliferate, but they didn’t. They didn’t do anything. I pulled the book off the shelf and started reading. I read out loud. I held the book out in front of me and I read the words, I let them out into the room, but they didn’t do a thing. I was reading the words and all I could think about was Charlie. Charlie. I kept saying her name. I couldn’t help it.

  I said yes. Yes.

  I said Nelson could sleep on her bed. Charlie hadn’t come to me all day and I’d had to make the bird pairs myself and I’d almost started sorting them so that the Arctic skua was at the top. I said yes because I wanted her. That’s why I said it.

  So he slept on her bed. No, he sleeps on her bed. He sleeps there because I said yes and Charlie said thank you and skipped off, and when it came to bedtime, I was ready to say no, but it was too late because he was already on her bed and she was in her pyjamas with her arm wrapped around him and the swifts were screeching outside the window.

  It was too late to say no, so I said, ‘Come on, let’s watch the swifts. Let’s open the window wide. Let’s throw open the window and sit on the sill and you can dangle your legs and I’ll keep you safe. I’ll hold onto you.’

  Charlie looked towards the window.

  ‘Come on,’ I said.

  She had her arm around Nelson and the swifts were screeching and I kept saying come on.

  She looked towards the window. She’s coming. That’s what I thought. She’ll come.

  ‘You know Dad doesn’t like flying insects.’ That’s what she said.

  And she stayed where she was. So I went over to her window anyway. I opened it wide. I threw the window open and the swifts were there and I watched them for a while. I watched them turn in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud. There wasn’t a single cloud.

  The flying insects came in. I didn’t see them come, but there were so many of them. I didn’t know what Charlie would think. I didn’t want to think of Charlie. I shut the window. I shut it. Charlie was already sleeping.

  I went to bed. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to slip away, to be slipping away. Sometimes you can catch yourself, feel yourself, slipping. And you’re not thinking, you’re not worrying, you’re just noticing. Noticing yourself slipping.

  He came back, the man from the pub. That’s what I dreamt. I saw his hairy fingers pushing their way through our letter box. I saw them from inside our house. I was standing in our hallway and I could see his hairy fingers. He was rattling our letter box. He was calling through the letter box and Charlie and Nelson were sleeping.

  ‘Open up, open up,’ he said and I was looking at the wet on his lips and I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. He was calling through the letter box. He wanted the dog. He wanted his dog back. But Charlie and Nelson had come too far, they’d come so far together. Abbott said it too. It wasn’t just something I’d thought. Abbott said it himself.

  ‘Maybe that’s what she needed all along. A friend,’ he said.

  But the man didn’t go. He wanted his dog. He stayed outside our front door with his hand through our letter box. Abbott wasn’t home and I hadn’t put the bolt across the door. I didn’t want to stay inside. I wanted to go out because the flowers needed water. It was hot. Even in the dream it was hot.

  I wanted to go outside. I stood by the front door but I couldn’t get out. His hairy fingers were coming through our letter box and when he called I saw the wet around his lips and I knew he’d swallow me if I tried to get past him.

  He stayed outside with his hand through our letter box and Abbott was out and where was he, because he never sees. No, he didn’t see the man put his hairy fingers on her breasts, Kate’s. He placed them there. He let his hairy fingers fall into the shape of her breasts and he held them there. He didn’t move. He let his hairy fingers feel the shape of her. I saw them taking the shape of her. Then he moved her breasts up and down, the way Jay moved that girl’s breasts up and down, but Jay hasn’t got fingers like that.

  I called for Abbott. I called out. The man’s fingers were crawling, crawling all over her breasts, and I wanted Abbott to see, to stop the crawling. I expected Kate to turn, all along I expected it, because I was standing right there and he had her breasts and his hand in our letter box and he couldn’t have it all, but he did.

  ‌

  Joan’s started talking to us again. She knocked on our front door. I knew it was Joan before Charlie opened it. I knew it would be, and there she was, standing on our front step the way she always used to. There she was, wearing elasticated trousers and holding a bone wrapped in paper.

  ‘What’s that?’ Charlie said.

  ‘Thought I’d buy that dog of yours a little something,’ she said. She was craning her neck, she was looking down the hallway, but Nelson wasn’t there.

  ‘Doesn’t hurt to have a little treat now and then, does it?’ she said.

  There she was, standing on our doorstep with the bone in her hand. The grease was coming through the paper. Her thumb was shining with it, her thumb and down to the thin skin of her wrist.

  ‘I was passing the butcher’s anyway. The one on the estate,’ she said. ‘I was passing the butcher’s anyway, and I thought why not? Can’t hurt now, can it, a little bit of brisket bone?’

  I liked her talking. I’d forgotten how much I liked her talking. It’d been a long time since she’d stood on our doorstep talking, it’d been almost three years. Go on, I was thinking. Go on, go on. Keep talking, keep talking the way you’re talking. That’s what I was thinking.

  ‘It’s for after his dinner if your mum doesn’t mind,’ Joan said.

  ‘OK,’ Charlie said, and she held out her hand for the bone.

  ‘If your mum doesn’t mind,’ Joan said again.

  She looked behind Charlie to where I was standing and waved the bone, the paper and the bone, and Charlie held he
r hand out.

  Joan kept hold of the bone.

  She said, ‘Does he do a trick, your dog? Bring him here and get him to give us all a trick.’

  Charlie called for Nelson.

  ‘He’s ready for his trick,’ Joan said as he trotted along the hallway towards us. ‘See?’ she said. ‘Here he comes.’ I’d forgotten how much I liked her way with words. Go on, I thought. Go on with your words.

  ‘Let’s see him do something then,’ Joan said. And Charlie got Nelson to do a trick and when it was done Joan clapped, although it wasn’t a proper clap because she had the bone and she didn’t want to let go of it, so she had to clap against it, against the bone, against the greasy paper.

  After she clapped she took a breath, a deliberate breath.

  ‘You two should go on one of them talent shows. You know the ones, you know.’

  I walked away. I left Charlie and Nelson with Joan. I left them at the front door and I walked along the hallway and sat on the bottom step of the stairs. It was stifling down there, the air was sticking to the insides of my lungs, I mean I’d taken air in and I was struggling to get it out, couldn’t breathe it out. Couldn’t breathe out all that well. And Joan. Joan was still talking, was still going on.

  ‘Those shows,’ she said. ‘Did you see the one with the dog? Did you?’

  And Charlie didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even shake her head, just held her hand out for the bone and waited.

  ‘But he’s so handsome,’ Joan said. ‘He nodded his head when I said that. Did you see that? I saw that. Wait till I tell Wilf. He loves a German shepherd, he does.’

  I was sitting on the bottom step. Go on, I thought. Press on with your words, and I didn’t have to carry on thinking like that for long.

  ‘Always wanted one, a German shepherd, Wilf did, but I said there’s not enough space in here, Wilf, and anyway you’re hairy enough for the both of us, aren’t you? No need for two hairy boys in the house.’

  She stepped up, stepped inside our front door, leant against the wall, and went on talking.

  I was on the bottom step. Here I am, I thought, although I knew I couldn’t carry on sitting there in the heat. I knew Joan couldn’t keep going on, not with the bone in her hand, not indefinitely, no. I was on the stairs. I shut my eyes but I could still hear. I heard Charlie ask Joan if she wanted to see Nelson do another trick and I heard Joan say, ‘Yes.’ I heard her clapping again. Clapping against the bone paper. I heard her go on. She went on. I thought, how can someone go on like that? Keep going on like that? And I wanted Charlie to come in.

  I was sitting on the bottom step. I could hear Joan. I could smell the bone.

  I wanted Charlie to come in. I wanted Charlie to shut the door on Joan and her bone and I didn’t want them to rhyme but they did.

  I was on the bottom step. I didn’t like Joan talking. I’d forgotten how much I didn’t like the way she went on and on, how I’d never much liked the way she went on, and I thought how useful it would be to have a nice watch. If I had a nice watch, I thought, I could say to Charlie:

  Time to come in, dinner at six.

  Five more minutes. Charlie, Charlie.

  And Joan would have to stop. That’s what I thought. If I had a nice watch, Joan would have to stop.

  It felt like an emergency, with Charlie and Nelson in the hallway and me on the bottom step and Joan propped up against our wall going on and on without thinking. And the smell of the bone was hanging in the air and the air was too heavy down there at the end of the hallway and I wanted Charlie to come back in because Joan had her. She shouldn’t have her.

  In the end I got up.

  I stood up. I walked towards the door. Charlie was sitting on the floor, Nelson’s big head on her knee, and Joan was leaning where she always used to lean. She had her bone. Joan. Had her bone, had her bone.

  ‘We need to shut the door,’ I said. ‘Abbott doesn’t like flying insects in the house. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, and took another step towards her. I waited. Waited until Joan stopped leaning, until Joan stepped onto the doormat, and then I pushed.

  I made sure she was on the other side and I pushed on the door. I pushed quite hard, and I heard her feet, her urgent steps. I heard her clearing her throat ready to speak, but I kept pushing, I went on pushing and I didn’t look, didn’t want to see, so I pushed. I went on pushing until the door was shut.

  ‘Ash,’ Charlie said. ‘Ash.’

  ‘You know how your dad feels about flying insects,’ I said.

  Charlie and Nelson went upstairs. I could hear her talking to him and I could smell the bone. I went into the kitchen. I opened the freezer door and stuck my hand in next to the cottage pie. I held it there. I held it next to the cottage pie and ran through the Fibonacci sequence. I didn’t get far before something happened. I didn’t get that far before Joan posted the bone through the letter box.

  I waited. I waited with my hand in the freezer, with Charlie and Nelson upstairs. I waited until I heard Joan’s front door slam shut.

  ‌

  I don’t know why I didn’t come down here on my own before.

  I asked Charlie.

  ‘Do you want to come to the lake?’ I said, but Charlie was busy, too busy, and I asked three times. But three summer days.

  Three summer days, with Kate. I’d almost wished we were butterflies.

  And then I went under.

  After that I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t see anything but the bubbles I was breathing and the shapes the rain made on the surface of the water.

  It rained all summer.

  We wanted it to stop. We wanted to show our colours, fly a little, but the sky rolled on. The rain went on.

  And now the earth is scorched, and the flowers in the garden are wilting and I can’t water them because Joan’s been watching. She’s started watching. She’s started coming round again.

  And I’ll keep my T-shirt on, in case somebody comes, but nobody ever comes.

  Charlie once thought she heard some boys down here, but they weren’t boys, they were gulls. We laughed at that. Boys and gulls. We said it a hundred times as we walked home.

  I’m going in. There. Going in.

  And I don’t know why I didn’t come down here on my own before. I don’t always need to have Charlie with me, and Abbott holds his breath underwater. He hasn’t been taught how to breathe. That’s what he says.

  I like coming here alone. I’ve always liked being alone.

  There. Going in. Wading in.

  I’m glad I got here in time. There was no point in waiting for Charlie, because the lake’s getting sucked up into the sky.

  I’ll wade out to the rock, I’ll swim if I can, but it’s shallow. Even at the rock, it’s shallow.

  And the water’s been under the sun so long, it’s warm. Warm water, it’s soothing. That’s the word.

  I’ll take my T-shirt off. I’ll take it off and leave it on the rock and then I’ll go deeper. I’ll keep on wading until the bottom of the lake falls away from under my feet. And then I’ll swim. I’ll go further out than we’ve been before, I’ll keep going further. And you have to breathe out when you go under. Breathe out. That’s what I said to Abbott, but he never came swimming again.

  I’ll take my T-shirt off. And there. It’s soothing when the water’s warm like this. I like being alone. I’ve always liked being alone and I’m glad I came in time.

  And you breathe like this. You lift your feet, you put your head under and you breathe like this.

  Charlie knows. Charlie knows how to breathe underwater.

  ‌

  The photos of the solstice celebration are up on the Naturally Yoga website. There are twenty-seven of them in the photo stream.

  I’ve got to number fourteen and where is she?

  The woman with the flower band in her hair said she wasn’t coming. But she wasn’t right. She came. She was walking up whilst I was running down. The steep way. We were bo
th going the steep way.

  And there. In number nineteen. There, in her dancing cornflower scarf. She hung it on the end of our stairs. There’s a woman in our house. That’s what I thought when she hung it there. There’s a woman in our house.

  I was running down. I was flying down the steep way and she was walking up. We missed each other, but there she is in her cornflower scarf. In number twenty-one, too. She’s pretty. It’s not a bad word, pretty. It’s not for boys though.

  There she is.

  There she is.

  Dancing cornflowers. What’s the difference between to want and to have? To want and to have had?

  Ash, not now. That’s what Abbott would say. But I’ll tell you what the difference is.

  I’ve got her. There she is. Numbers nineteen and twenty-one. There she is on the screen in front of me and it doesn’t do anyone any harm to kiss her like this. On her lips, her glassy lips.

  ‌

  We’re going to the lake. To the lake off the Toll Estate. We’ll walk out of here, Charlie and I, and leave the swifts behind us. There’ll be nobody there because it isn’t Tuesday. I asked her four times. You might as well keep asking if you want the answer you want.

  I’ve packed some things. I’ve packed a ball for Nelson. He likes to bring it back. He likes to be a good boy. Last week I threw the ball and Nelson went running after it. I threw it so hard it went over the roof of our house and carried on sailing. I followed its arc through the sky. I thought he’d find it. I thought he’d bring it back. That’s what he likes to do.

  I waited.

  He came back empty-mouthed. I watched Charlie’s face and waited for her disappointment to show. I wanted a change, that was all.

  ‘You threw it too far,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t him.’

  She ruffled the hair around his neck and said, ‘Good boy.’ I hoped he was hot, too hot. I went on tending to the flowers.