The Death of Bees

by Lisa O'Donnell

  Our phone died. Just like that. We can’t call the local constabulary and we can’t call an ambulance. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A calamity and no mistake.

  Where does all the money go, that’s what I want to know? Mother and Father left us something surely. A pittance I have no doubt but enough for groceries I imagine, some electricity, a little gas, and most certainly a ruddy telephone bill. She needs to manage the cash better is what I’m thinking. She needs to count her pennies and not her pounds. She needs to get clever with our budget.

  “Maybe we don’t need a phone?” she said.

  “Goddammit,” I cried. “Everyone needs a phone.”

  Blasted girl.

  Marnie

  Thank God for Pay As You Go, although Nelly doesn’t share my enthusiasm and acts like I shit money or something. She never asks how we’re getting by and just assumes we have it. Thank God for the welfare state and parents with sense enough not to marry each other. Izzy always wanted to marry but Gene said no and so that means two checks from the Social but for how long?

  They talked about it a lot, being married I mean, and Nelly would get very excited, not quite getting that they were totally pissed and kidding her on. Izzy would draw wedding dresses and Nelly would find plastic rings for Gene to give to Izzy. They even went as far as to take the net curtains from the windows and stole flowers from Lennie’s garden for a bouquet, but it was Gene they made up to be the bride. It was so stupid, Izzy and Gene wandering around half cut wearing curtains, Gene with his makeshift veil kept in place with a tin colander, which I suppose was his tiara, and Nelly trailing behind them in a mermaid costume. It was a stupid game. Scared me in my stomach having to pretend like that, but I still did it, just to throw the rice at them. They thought I was playing along, but I wasn’t. I would have drowned them in rice if I’d got the chance and stuffed their every orifice with the stuff.

  Nelly’s acting like nothing happened with her and Susie and Susie’s still in a radge about it, even though Nelly apologized because I fucking made her. Kimbo asked me if Nelly was a schizophrenic, I said she isn’t, because she’s not. She doesn’t hear voices or anything, she’s just not like other people and can’t fake it, which is more than can be said about me. I’ve been faking it my whole life.

  Lennie

  A lone soldier is our Marnie. It’s all push and pull with this girl. She wants you, she likes you, she’s afraid to be around you.

  A boy keeps calling and won’t leave his name. He obviously likes her and I can see why he would. Marnie’s a very pretty young lady, but not in the same way as her sister. Marnie has a rounder face. They’re chalk and cheese to tell the truth. Marnie wears makeup, pinks and reds. Nelly won’t even wear lip balm, which is strange because I thought women loved to experiment with the lipsticks and the eyeliners. My sisters used to love a bit of rouge. We all did, but it was just a game. I would wear my mother’s housecoat and her curlers and we’d all laugh and tease her, I’d wave my finger in the air and nag as she did, but how my mother raged about it. She always knew about me. How could she not? I wasn’t exactly flamboyant in my way but it was clear I had no interest in women and from a very early age. I know my sisters knew about me. I was always the one they confided in and we were very close for a while, until I wasn’t a secret anymore. It wasn’t fair of them at all. I stuck by them, didn’t I? Jeanette and her abortion, Roberta and her affair with the married carpenter. It was always me they turned to with their troubles but when I was the one who needed a friend they simply turned their backs. I never forgave them for that and made a point of keeping them as far from me as possible. It was a lonely time, I missed them all. I still do, but then I met you, didn’t I? My brother. My lover. My salvation. I’d hate to have walked this road without you.

  I am glad the girls have one another, it’s a lonely journey otherwise and so I leave them with their secrets and the things they share. It bonds them and keeps them strong. It is important to stay strong, it ties you to life and forces you to walk on, even if it’s only with a dog.

  Marnie

  Happy Valentine’s Day, got one from Kirkland Milligan, who I thought might have been the one who shagged me when I was drunk and lost my tights at Lorna’s shindig. he was totally offended when I asked him and told me I’d snagged my nylons on a chair and pulled them off by myself. He said I threw them at someone. To be honest I sort of blanked out after the karaoke. I remember Susie singing. Susie takes her karaoke very seriously, like she’s expecting Simon Cowell to drop by. She’s a little depressed right now. Susie gets like that sometimes, but she’s darker these days and doesn’t want to go out like she used to. Kimbo says it’s ’cause she’s an artist now and wants to hone her creative energy for the stage. Susie told Kimbo to go fuck herself. See what I mean—dark. Anyway Kimbo, me, and Lorna sang really badly, but we were just having a laugh. I got steaming at that party and made a right arse of myself. I started singing without the karaoke machine. Some of Lorna’s bitchy pals from Kelvinbridge started sniggering at me, but then Susie joined in, making my song sound better and then Kimbo joined in, making it sound loud and then Lorna joined in and suddenly we weren’t singing at all, just screaming, like our mums do when they’re pished, I don’t think the other party guests appreciated it too much, but we were laughing so much at it we didn’t care. Kirkland sang some soppy song and kept pointing at me when it got to anything to do with love or hurt or being fucked-up in general, which made Susie and Kimbo piss themselves. He didn’t care he was making a tit out of himself, I mean everyone knows I’m not interested. Susie thinks I’m being a bitch. She said people should be grateful when someone wants to love them and it’s fucked up when they’re not.

  Kirkland’s okay I suppose, but he wears a lot of black and never washes his hair, he says it cleans itself after a while. He has this raw sensitive thing going on and is always selling you the notion he’s someone you can trust, but the truth is he’s just trying to get into your knickers like every other guy. He keeps making me CDs of bands he thinks I’ve never heard of. He has a New Order thing going at the moment and he’s always telling me what the songs are and what they mean. What he doesn’t know is Izzy pure loved New Order, when they were New Order of course ’cause they used to be Joy Division according to Izzy.

  I want to say all these things to him and put him in his place but then he’d think we had something in common and I don’t want to have anything in common with Kirkland and so I assume inferiority in the hope he’ll leave me alone. I nod a lot at Kirkland and hope he’ll go get me a drink ’cause I can’t be bothered going over to the bar. He never does though. He thinks he’s that interesting.

  The other thing I hate about Kirkland is his belief he’s a humanitarian, he’s always talking about Afghanistan and Iraq, as if knowledge makes him brave, as if caring and talking about these places is equal to actually being there and fighting the rebels he hates so much, he’d totally shite it if he had to go to war.

  He’s a pain in the arse to be honest and assumes you can’t know whatever it is he knows. He’s the type of person who loves the idea of being an outsider because he thinks by not belonging it makes him superior in some way. What he doesn’t get is that the real outsiders would do anything to be on the inside. A real outsider can’t be seen at all. They’re people who look like they belong when inside they know they don’t. They’re people who would do anything to appear normal, while harboring the secret knowledge that they’re anything but normal.

  It probably sounds like I hate him. I suppose I do, the array of choices available to him bugs me. The only reason I know him at all is because he used to go to school with Lorna, but then they kicked her out and now she goes to our school, but he’s still hanging around her and so are we these days. Kimbo and Lorna are pretty tight. Both of them want to be artists and they spend hours in her studio and I don’t blame them. Lorna’s house is amazing. I’ve never seen a place like it. A town house on Great Western Road with thre
e floors, a private road with parking. Lorna has the attic. It’s like a studio with its own entrance. Her parents let her do what she wants, and not because they’re dead but because they work. Her dad’s a barrister and her mum, not her real one, is a legal secretary. Lorna hates her. I’m stuck with Susie at the moment and her inane interest in Gene and Izzy. I’ve told her they’re on holiday, but she wants to know when they’re coming back. She says she’s worried about me being alone. I told her I wasn’t alone. I have Nelly. Her and Mick are both making me mental right now, totally fascinated by the disappearance of two complete nonentities. Why do they even care? It’s not like they don’t have enough to do. Susie’s Nancy in the school play and Mick has a shitload of drugs to sell. He seems really pissed off at me right now, like it’s my fault and I suppose it is in a way, but not like he thinks.

  I’ve been washing the floors and walls all morning. I still can’t get the smell of dead out of the house, although Nelly insists she can’t smell anything. I even washed the linen in their room. Cleaned it up like they’ve never left, but the mattress still has a stain on it and whatever was leaking out of him has gone right through. I suppose we shouldn’t have left him so long. I suppose we shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

  Anyway my hands are pained with bleach and I can hear Nelly playing the violin for Lennie. I’ll go over later and have some breakfast, I don’t like it over here.

  Nelly

  Cards given to me by strangers and three of them. One with a dog and a heart. One with flowers around a heart. And a flashing heart that sang a funny little song about roses. All from boys I barely know.

  “Kip says to give you this,” says Shirley.

  “Matt says to give you this,” said James.

  “Patrick says to give you this,” said Margo.

  “Love you,” they wrote over and over again. I felt sick and threw them into the nearest bin. How dare they send me such things? I am a student of merit. I have no time for cards and whatnot. They should save their money for more noble causes and leave me be.

  I think on the word a while, love, and recall Grammy locking Father in the attic without his wine or his blasted teaspoons. I remember it well and with the greatest of accuracy.

  “I do it out of love,” she said as she put the key in her trouser pocket.

  It was December. Almost Christmas. I remember Marnie in a Nativity smacking the Mother of God with a coat hanger. And Father, I remember Father dragging a man away from Mother. Mother said he was a villain but my grammy told me that it was my mother who was the villain.

  “Have you no shame,” cried Grammy. “And with two children in the house.”

  Mother wept at this.

  I often wonder about my mother’s shame and think of the balding stranger weeping blood around her feet.

  “A painful slut.” Grammy sighed.

  “Well, you should know,” spits Mother.

  When Father left with Grammy (and the local constabulary) Mother sang a song. A song that made her feel strong, a song that made her feel sad, and a song that made her dance. I believe I danced too, I think she may have made me and I’m not at all inclined to exaggerate.

  Marnie

  I could have killed her.

  I get home Friday and there’s Big Brian, truant officer extraordinaire, waiting for me with a letter for my parents, which he wants to hand deliver. Then he gives me a lecture about skipping out of school even though it’s a free period, reminding me it’s actually study time and gives me a pink slip, which means I need to go see the headmaster on Monday so he can tell me the exact same thing, even though I’m an A student and don’t need a study period. He then questions my parents’ whereabouts and knows they’re on the dole and says he’s been trying to catch them at home for over a week and basically, where the fuck are they? He even hints they’re working somewhere, in other words, collecting benefits while in employment and like it’s his business, it almost makes me laugh, the idea of Izzy and Gene getting up in the morning to get to an actual job is fucking hilarious. I think of something to say without arousing suspicion. I tell him we have a dog and they must be walking it and then I suggest he wait longer for them like I’m expecting them any minute knowing it’s Friday, and he wants to get home before the traffic fucks him and so he says it’s not necessary and just gives me the letter.

  Obviously he knows I’m going to open it and he doesn’t want me to bin it so he tells me my parents have to report to the school administrator by the end of the month to set up an appointment or further action will be taken against them, which means I definitely can’t bin it. Then comes the weirdest thing ever. He says, “Are you okay, Marnie?” I say, “Yeah.” Then he says, “You know if you ever need anything you only have to ask, we’re not the enemy, keeping a girl like you on track is important to us, do you understand?” I nod. He gets into his car and before he leaves he says, “Have a nice weekend.” Then he drives away. I want to cry and wonder why he cares. Then I see our front door all bashed up, it’s always been like that, but it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time and it depresses me. There’s plywood where a window used to be, I remember the stereo flying through it and there’s a broken fence surrounding a junk-filled yard with gym equipment no one ever used. A cardboard box piled with clothes, shoes and total crap strewn everywhere. We did our best to tidy it when we buried them but it was too much. I look to Lennie’s place with his perfect lawn. I look to the houses in front of us with kids’ playthings and a bike against a wall. I see order and containment. I see homes. I feel ashamed and I want to fix everything, and make it look like it should. I know it’s impossible. I go inside and rip open the letter instead and that’s when I find out Nelly’s been skipping school and more than I realized. The letter says Izzy and Gene can be made legally accountable and the word accountable is underlined.

  Next thing I hear Nelly’s key in the lock and so I position myself at the side of the door so I can grab her and kick the shit out of her. She gets a fright when she sees me and doesn’t know why I’m home. I tell her I have a free period and she says, “It’s not a free period, it’s study time.”

  “Don’t you fucking. Fuck . . .” I can hardly get the words out.

  “What on earth’s the matter with you?” she says.

  “You getting letters like this!”

  I throw it at her.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, old girl. I’m always at school.”

  “Oh really, ’cause according to this you’ve been bunking off.”

  “I have not been ‘bunking off,’ as you call it. I’ve been reading. In the library. The school library.”

  “You’re not supposed to be in the library, Fannybaws, you’re supposed to be in class.”

  “I learn a great deal more in the library and without all that hullabaloo one must endure in a classroom full of imbeciles.”

  That’s when I bang her. I’ve had it with her and the Bette Davis bullshit.

  There’s blood everywhere and a tooth is broken, but I don’t feel bad, as a matter of fact I wanted to hurt her some more, she’s lucky I didn’t.

  Later I go to see Mick and we have sex. I wish we hadn’t and I feel disgusting afterward. I always feel disgusting with Mick. I don’t know why I do it at all. Mostly I wish I hadn’t hurt my sister, who ran from me in tears. I didn’t mean to make her afraid, but she started it. I’m terrified now. There is no one to go to at school and they’ll call again. I don’t know what to do.

  Nelly

  Marnie gave me a right bashing. Thumped me and no mistaking it and on a Friday of all days.

  “Whatever have you done to my tooth?” I cried.

  “Fuck you,” she replied. Vulgar girl. Uncouth.

  Lord, how I hate Fridays. They can’t be trusted. Weekends without supper, weekends listening to strangers brought home by careless fathers who drink and then pee on the bloody rug.

  What a stench it leaves. An awful stench.

  I
feel badly for playing the fool, really I do. I don’t wish to have government officials on the doorstep any more than Marnie does. I wish only to read and to stay away from the boys and their remarks about my body. I hate my body. I hate boys and today I hate Marnie. God damn her to hell.

  Lennie

  I gave Marnie a right talking-to yesterday and I was very stern. We had to take Nelly to the dentist. Marnie knocked the poor girl’s tooth right out of her mouth. I had to control my temper, I really did, but then she started to cry. She says she’s sorry and doesn’t know what came over her.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” I said.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she says.

  “Your parents. Where the hell are they?”

  She went blank, like she didn’t hear me. I turn round to find Nelly staring at her, all wide-eyed and pleading and wanting her to keep her mouth shut. Marnie looked ashamed. They both did. I shook my head in disappointment and walked out of the room. There’s nothing to be done if they don’t trust me with what I already know. The parents are not coming back any day soon and these girls have been abandoned.

  Later I chastised Marnie for her violence toward her sister, expecting some kind of teen-like strop and fully intent on throwing the little madam out on her ear, but she agreed with me, just like that. She was grateful almost, as if she wanted me to parent her and that’s exactly what I did. I told her to apologize to her sister. She apologized, but Nelly wouldn’t look at her of course and I didn’t make her, I can’t force her to forgive if she doesn’t want to. I told Marnie to clean my kitchen. I’d been baking bread and had left a bit of a mess, but credit to her she cleaned the kitchen. Then I demanded she clean the toilet and she cleaned the toilet. I made her bring me her schoolbag, a sad little green satchel inked with boys’ names and rock bands. I made her do her homework and it didn’t take her very long but everything was correct. She’s clever, I’ll give her that. I let her have dinner, but no dessert, I told her she had to stay here tonight and go to bed early. She asked if she could have a bath. I said yes. She didn’t as much as grumble, not once, that in itself is strange. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, I expected a little backchat at least, but not a word did I get, only compliance and that’s when I realized she wants someone to discipline her and to give a damn about the things she does right or wrong. And it hits me. These girls aren’t hiding anything, this is how it has always been for them. Their parents’ absence is a horrendous reality and one they have lived with their entire lives. I feel sore for Marnie then and for Nelly and suddenly I understand Marnie’s attachment to girls like Susie and Kim. They are constants in her life. A family of sorts, something to look forward to and people she can rely upon.