by Guy Burt
‘Yeah.’
‘You should have said. We should have a party.’
She shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. ‘It’s OK,’ she says.
I say, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I forgot.’
‘How can you forget your birthday?’ I say, strangely impressed. I think of the weeks of planning that always go into my birthday; to forget that it’s coming at all seems very strange.
Anna says, ‘We – don’t do much about birthdays. At home, I mean.’
‘Well, we do,’ Jamie says decisively. ‘We should have a party. We’ll have to plan it quickly, if there’s only a day to go.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, seriously. ‘It’s important.’
Anna’s uncertain look lingers for a moment, but then it’s replaced by a kind of embarrassed excitement. She says, ‘Really? There isn’t time.’
‘Yes there is,’ Jamie says. ‘We’ll have to go and tell Lena.’
‘She does the best birthday cake in the valley,’ I explain, when Anna looks at me questioningly.
‘And then we’ll have to think about presents,’ Jamie says.
‘You’ll have to have a birthday dinner,’ I say. ‘You know. Tomorrow evening.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
Jamie is thinking, and we wait for him to come up with a plan. At last he nods to himself, and says, ‘OK, this is what we should do. Anna, you and me’ll go and see Lena and tell her. You can ask for the kinds of food you really like, too. And we should tell my parents, too.’
‘Don’t they know already?’ I say.
‘Well, they haven’t said anything, have they? Did you tell them?’ he asks Anna.
‘No. I told you, I forgot.’
‘Well, then, they won’t know.’ Jamie is grinning with excitement. ‘This’ll be fun.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, nodding agreement.
‘Alex, you stay with the hermit. Then once we’ve sorted everything with Lena, Anna can come back and take over and you and me’ll go shopping and get all the stuff. OK?’
‘OK,’ I say. I’m a bit sad that I won’t be there for the serious business of planning the meal, but I know Lena will tell me all about it later. Besides, it’s Anna’s birthday, and it is right that she should tell Lena what she wants herself.
‘Right,’ Jamie says. ‘We’ll be back by five, probably. Or Anna will. I might stay down there and wait for you.’
‘No problem,’ Anna says.
‘Get sweets,’ I call after them as they run off towards the fence. ‘For after.’
‘OK,’ Jamie calls back over his shoulder.
I am left alone, shaking my head in wonder that something so important as a birthday could have been forgotten – could, in fact, have nearly slipped by us without any of us noticing. It’s not a good thought.
Somewhere far off there is a faint, rumbling echo; thunder in the hills inland. I glance up, but the sky, though hazy, is free of clouds. In this weather, though, you can smell the resin from the pine-trees more sharply, for some reason, and I know that it means that the bright, clear part of the summer is now behind us. It always comes as a surprise; and I quickly push from my mind the thought that school is not far away now.
Feeling slightly melancholy, I trudge inside the chapel to check on the hermit.
He’s lying as usual on his bed. When I get closer to him, I can see that he’s got his wounded leg bent a little at the knee, as if he’s trying to see whether it will move properly.
I say, ‘What’re you doing?’
He looks up. ‘Hello, Alex,’ he says. He is always polite with us, and calls us by our names. I quite like it.
‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ I say.
‘Yes; it does, rather. But I want—’ He gives a little gasp as he bends the knee further, and then he eases the leg down on the boards again, gently. ‘I want to see if it still works,’ he says, smiling a little.
‘Does it?’
‘It seems to. I shan’t be walking on it for a while, but it’s definitely getting better. You did a good job with the bandages and cleaning it.’
‘Oh. Good,’ I say, not sure how to reply to this. ‘It was Anna, really.’
‘I know.’ The hermit shifts himself until he’s sitting up more. ‘Where are she and Jamie, then?’
‘They’ve gone off to plan,’ I say, pleased to have someone to confide the whole story to. The hermit will do until I can talk to Lena.
‘Really? What are they planning, then?’ he says. He sounds amused and interested.
I say, ‘It’s Anna’s birthday tomorrow. We’re going to have a party.’
‘Yes? How old is she?’
‘Eleven. She’s going to be eleven, I mean. She’s ten now.’
‘Ah. Exciting, no? Have you bought her a present?’
‘No,’ I say. It’s something that’s already bothering me. ‘She only told us today. She’d forgotten.’
‘Forgotten a birthday?’ The hermit raises one eyebrow in disbelief. ‘That’s quite something to forget.’
‘That’s what I said,’ I say, pleased that someone else agrees with me. ‘I’d never forget my birthday. Or Jamie’s,’ I add, after a second.
‘No, I should think not,’ the hermit says seriously. ‘But perhaps she’s had other things on her mind.’
‘Well, I s’pose.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘About what?’
‘About the present. You’ll have to get her something,’ the hermit says.
I sit down on the floor beside him with a sigh. He’s right, but we’ve used up all our money – and all his – buying provisions and medical supplies. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘But I can’t afford anything.’
‘We shall have to think about that, then,’ he says. ‘Perhaps you can make her something instead.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, rather more hopefully. ‘I could, I suppose. But what?’
‘That’s the difficult thing,’ the hermit agrees. ‘We should think about that. It ought to be something that is special – that will remind her of you.’ He looks at me for a moment. ‘You like Anna, don’t you?’
‘Mm,’ I say. ‘Yes.’
‘So. Something to remind her of you. If I were you, do you know what I’d do?’
‘What?’ I say, entranced.
‘I’d go to somewhere that you go together – that you both know – and I’d look around. I wouldn’t go looking for one thing in particular; I’d just wait until the right thing caught my eye. It could be anything: you never know what you’ll find when you’re looking. But the right thing will be there, if your eyes are open. Do you know a place like that?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he says. ‘It’s the least I can do, after all you’re doing for me.’
‘Well,’ I say, rather uncertainly.
The hermit doesn’t seem to notice. ‘And you’ll give her a party, of course?’ he says.
‘Yes. Tomorrow evening.’
‘Yes? That will be fun.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘It’s going to be great.’
The hermit laughs at that, and nods. I am pleased that he cares about Anna so much that he’s happy that she’s having a party; and I’m pleased that he’s given me a way to find her a present. For the first time, I start to think that perhaps I could get to like the hermit, the way that Anna seems to.
The skies are grey and overcast on Anna’s birthday – the first dark skies for well over a month. The party will be in the evening, so I have time to find Anna a present.
‘I’m going to the beach,’ I tell Jamie first thing.
He looks at the sky and looks at me in disbelief. ‘It looks like rain,’ he says. ‘Besides, there’s too much to do.’
‘No, I really am,’ I say. Anna’s in the kitchen with Lena, so I can talk openly. I say, keeping my voice low, ‘I’ve got an idea for a present for her and I need to find something on the beac
h.’
‘Yeah?’ Jamie says, intrigued. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Then how do you know what to look for?’
‘The right thing will be there, if my eyes are open,’ I say. Jamie laughs hysterically at this, though I can’t see anything funny in it. Anna comes out of the kitchen.
‘What’s up with you two?’
‘Nothing,’ I say quickly.
‘Alex is mad,’ Jamie says, very seriously.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
Anna comes close to us. ‘Someone ought to check on the – dandelion clock,’ she says.
Jamie has had the last shift. ‘Everything was OK when I came back,’ he says.
‘Yeah. But still.’
Jamie nods. ‘OK. I can run up there before lunch. Is Lena keeping you here?’
Anna rolls her eyes expressively. ‘She says I have to be involved in all the cooking. She says it’s traditional. Is it?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Jamie agrees.
‘Oh.’
‘It’ll be OK,’ Jamie says. ‘I’ll go and check on – you know – and Alex can keep you company.’
‘Not for a while,’ I remind him. ‘I’m going – I’ve got somewhere I need to go.’
‘Very mysterious,’ Anna says, grinning. ‘OK. I’ll see you later, then.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. Jamie nods.
‘I have to cut shapes out of pastry now,’ Anna says. She makes it sound like she’s going to have to eat beetles or something.
Jamie heads up the valley and I head down. I turn every so often in the road to watch his progress, until he fades from view among the undergrowth of the abandoned fields. I quicken my pace slightly: the sooner I can get to the little cove, the sooner I can find something for Anna.
The beaches are deserted, even the bigger, sandy one in the centre of Altesa’s bay. A steady breeze is coming in off the sea, and although the air is still warm, the breeze, and the occluded sky, make everything look as though it should be cold. I find it rather disconcerting as I make my way along the cliff path and down onto the pebbles of the cove.
I try to do exactly what the hermit has said, and I wander up and down the beach vaguely, keeping my eyes wide and waiting for something to spring out of the background and grab my attention. There are pieces of driftwood washed up on the high-tide line, but none of them is very pretty or interesting. Sometimes you can find driftwood with twists that look like something – a face, maybe, or a hand – but not today. There is dry seaweed, but no matter how hard I use my imagination, I can’t imagine how seaweed could ever be a birthday present you’d be pleased to get. There are a few shells, too, though not many, but I know that while shells might be fine for one of the girls at school, they’d be wrong for Anna.
In the distance comes the sound of thunder again, and despite myself I shiver; the rains are clearly coming. The whole beach suddenly seems very dark, as though it’s dusk all at once. I imagine how nasty it will be to be outside when it starts to pour, and remember also that Jamie has said we shouldn’t go along the high cliff path in thunderstorms because of the lightning. The cove, which is usually such a friendly place, feels threatening and hostile, and I don’t like it.
It’s right down by the water’s edge that I see it, about a yard out under the waves. It’s difficult to see clearly because the surface of the water is getting quite choppy, even here behind the rock spur. Still, what I can see is enough to convince me to pull off my shoes and socks, and roll up my trousers, and wade out until I can reach down through the water and pick it out from among its fellows. Out of the water, but still glistening with the sea, it’s perfect: small and pale, the colour of moonlight. But the best part is at the top, and it’s this which has given me the idea for Anna’s present.
The money Lena has given me is in my pocket, and now it seems that I might have a use for it after all. A piece of string would do, of course; but for it to be a proper present, I know that I should really find something better – something more special. I know what I need, and it’s something I’ll need to buy and not find on the beach.
I make it to the shops and out onto the road at the edge of town before the rain starts. Then fat, heavy, warm drops start to pound the countryside. By the time I’m home, my shoes and trousers are stained russet from the dust-mud on the road, and I’m soaked through. The trees in the garden are hissing and dripping with rain, and all the smells of the lavender and rosemary are gusting out in great pungent waves. Further up the valley, where Jamie must be, the water is drifting in sheets through the air. I wonder what it must sound like, on the roof of the chapel; and I think of Jamie in there with the hermit, listening to the rain, and am glad I’m home with Lena and Anna. I hide my present in my room, under the bed, and join them in the kitchen to make food for the party, and to wait for Jamie to come back.
Jamie is sitting with his back to a tree trunk, watching the distant figures of cricketers on one of the pitches. I dump my sketch pad and books down on the grass beside him, and he looks up, startled.
‘I’ve got it,’ I say. ‘We don’t call it a clock because we tell the time by it. We tell the time by it because we call it a clock. Do you see?’
Jamie blinks. ‘What?’
‘What you said – about it being weird calling it a clock. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I went and looked it up.’
A flicker of interest shows in his face. ‘Yeah? What did it say?’
‘The Oxford English just says it’s a name for a dandelion seedhead, and that kids play at telling the time by it.’
‘I knew that.’
‘I know. But it still didn’t say why. But then I thought, it’s French, isn’t it? Norman French, from when we were invaded. Dandelion. Dents de lion, lion’s teeth. From the way the leaves look – all jagged.’
Jamie’s nodding. ‘Yeah.’
‘So I thought, if the plant’s French, perhaps the clock part comes from French, too.’
‘What’s French for “clock”, then?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘That’s the wrong way round. It wouldn’t have meant clock, back then. It would have been a French word that sounded like clock, so when the English heard it, they thought that’s what the Normans were saying.’
Jamie’s nodding, understanding at once. ‘Yeah. Of course.’
‘I thought cloche to start with, so I looked that up.’
‘Means “bell”,’ Jamie says.
‘Yeah, that’s what I found. But why would they call it a bell? It doesn’t look like a bell.’
‘Maybe one of those round bells on a jester’s cap or something.’
‘Yeah, but not much, does it? Look. Think of a dandelion clock. What does it really look like? Imagine it. If you had to use a word for it, what would it be?’
I can see Jamie’s mind is working at it now. He’s silent for a long time, and then at last he says, ‘It’s kind of like a moon, maybe. A white sphere. But it looks soft. And the light comes through it – silvery. Like a bubble underwater, maybe.’
‘“Like a bubble underwater,”’ I echo.
‘What?’
I can hardly stop myself grinning. ‘There’s another word. It is pretty rare now, but I bet a thousand years ago it was really common. Cloque. And get this – it comes from the same root as cloche. They were the same once.’
Jamie’s staring at me. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Mostly? “Blister”,’ I say, grinning. ‘But in one little region, they still remember another meaning, one that everyone else has forgotten. So there cloque also means “bubble”.’
Jamie’s face breaks into the look of triumph that I know comes when he has the answer to something. ‘Or bubble,’ he says softly. ‘Yeah. That’s it. Are you sure?’
‘No. It’s all guesswork.’
‘The Oxford doesn’t say anything more?’
‘No.’
‘That’s like the biggest dictionary ever.’
>
‘I know. I could be wrong. But I think we tell the time by it cos it’s called a clock, not the other way round. And I think it’s called a clock because—’
‘Because it looks like a bubble,’ he finishes. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s got to be it.’ He looks up at me, and grins. ‘Cool,’ he says. ‘Fields of bubbles. Good one, Alex.’
The party is enormous fun. We eat Anna’s birthday dinner in Jamie’s house, and Mr and Mrs Anderson have decorated the room, just as it should be. There is a cake, hastily assembled by Lena and with eleven candles in a circle, and there are games afterwards. We can’t play in the garden, because it’s still raining; but otherwise everything is perfect.
I’ve taken my special present with me, still wrapped in its bag. When the games are finished my parents arrive, and the adults all go off into the sitting room to talk and have G-and-Ts and finish the Asti Spumante, of which we’ve been allowed little glasses because this is a celebration, and at last we’re left alone. Jamie gives Anna a book he’s bought, and I give her my necklace.
‘It’s from the beach,’ I say, feeling suddenly and inexplicably shy. ‘I found it.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she says, turning it over in her hands. ‘How did you make it into a necklace?’
‘The man in the shop did it,’ I say. ‘I bought the chain.’ The chain is thin, and silver-coloured, and looks good with the colour of the stone.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she says again.
‘Yeah,’ Jamie says. He sounds impressed. ‘It’s a great idea. You were lucky to find one like that. They’re usually bigger.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, pleased that he understands; but then, Jamie always understands.
Anna opens the clasp and puts it round her neck. It takes her a moment to fiddle it closed again. ‘I haven’t had a necklace before,’ she says. ‘There.’ She raises her head and straightens the pebble. ‘How’s it look?’
‘Nice,’ Jamie says.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘It feels – weird,’ she says, and then adds hastily, ‘Nice, I mean. I’m just not used to it, that’s all.’
‘Look in the mirror,’ Jamie suggests. Anna goes across the room and looks at herself carefully.