Then lo and behold a miracle did be happening because along the shore of the river came some ducks all brown and clucky-looking and bounciful. And I did see them and it was filling me with warm waves and so much oom-papa that Joyous was crying of joy and Moonbeam was patting my arm and saying, Oh wow, Joyous, your duck family, that is the best, that is so cool. Pretty muchly soon the ducks were squiffling into the river and swimming like feathery boats with the ripples behind them in triangle lines and Moonbeam did find the crusts which we had wrapped for later in her backpacker and we did be breaking small pieces and throwing them out to the ducks who came gliding and quacking and snapping crusts and being most wondrous creatures of God. And I was in magic happiness with the kingdom tree and the river and the ducks and my independent streak and Moonbeam of course being kind and googlish like Roscoe from a time before.
Then it was seven minutes before three o’clock which was the time for Joyous to be taking my ticket up to the bus-stop next to the statue of the soldiers and the names being men of war. And it was a little bit of confusion for me because of Moonbeam staying behind and her face being like Mrs Ickiewicz’s face when she did be standing near the pie-warmer which was folded and crumply like an old photo in a t-shirt drawer. So Joyous did be holding Moonbeam’s hands for a comfortable moment or two then seeing the bus becoming chugga-lug so have to be ready. And we were saying goodbye because Moonbeam was staying behind like understanding and no questions, so that’s the plain and simple kookity end of that.
The last time? Mister, the last time I did be seeing her was to look from behind the window of the favoured blue bus. It was when the ducks were still chomping on those big old crusts and Moonbeam did smile once more in that warm and truesome manner and wave with her long white fingers that I liked and was trusting in the working shop. And Joyous knew then that this was a new bestest bit and Moonbeam did be loving him in her own way like Mamma and would be doing so forever and ever amen, no matter where or when or what would be happening.
JOYOUS and MOONBEAM
This is it, Joyous. This is Kinsville.
Seven hundred and forty-two.
Yeah. Small, hey?
Yes, Moonbeam. Kinsville is not being big like a city of people.
Very. Hey, see that statue-thing in the middle of the park?
Joyous will be looking.
I’m guessing it’s a war memorial. What’s the official word? Cenotaph. Cen-o-taph. To remind us all about the dead soldiers. There’s one in every town.
Mm.
Which is kind of cool. You know, as a link between places.
Kind of cool.
Hey, come over this side. There’s a bridge, down there. See? Just past that rise. I can see the railings. Must be the river.
Blue bus, stop for us.
Such a poet! We’ll get off here. You okay?
I am in okayness, Moonbeam.
Thanks a lot, Pete. And there’s one going back at three, right? To the Transit Centre? Cool. Come on, Joyous. Why don’t we start with the river?
Mamma’s farm was nearly being by a river. Her and Dadda did take the hand-lines and be fishing and once she was catching a giant slippery eel but not for eating.
Yuck. Revolting things. So, do you remember anything else, Joyous? Any other details that might help us – find things?
No. Joyous was being six or seven or eight years of old when we did be leaving the farm for the city apartment of Sammy-K.
Fair enough. So maybe … maybe if we keep heading down towards the river then follow it along, we might see a farm or three.
Joyous is wanting to see Mamma’s farm with the kingdom tree of Joyous’s being a child –
And the ducks, I know, I know. But like I was saying on the bus, it’s probably changed. That’s what happens. Things change.
Mm.
It sucks but – it was years ago, big guy. Even if we do find the actual farm, it’s probably going to be different. Could be a supermarket, road. Anything.
Mm.
Joyous? You do understand, don’t you?
Yes indeedy-do. I am thanking you, Moonbeam.
What for?
Explaining to Joyous in a righteous manner, like Mrs Swain.
Who’s she?
Mrs Swain is my honkingly good teacher who did explain maths my favoured subject to Joyous with love and care and attention, and also be stopping of the bad boys.
Gotcha. Maths though, Joyous – yuck.
Maths is being yum.
Each to their own. Hey, there it is. There’s the river.
Yes. Would Moonbeam be liking of a lollipopsicle?
Raspberry, please. Ta. It’s great, isn’t it? Peaceful. Look at the way the light bounces –
It is like brokened glass.
Exactly. Well done! Big too, bigger than I thought it would be.
The river is sparklous.
Nice word, legend. Got any more?
The river is dandiful. It is a wondrous river!
It is. Better than that brown garbage dump back home.
There is being a path, Moonbeam. Over there, where Joyous is pointing with his long straight finger.
Sure is. Should we follow it?
Yes, please.
Come on, big guy. We’ll find this farm if it’s the last thing we do.
Mamma’s farm was being here, Moonbeam. Joyous does know for certainly.
How? How do you know? There’s no –
The smells are of the same. Joyous is remembering of the smells.
Really?
Mm.
Even though it was so long ago?
Yes. Joyous has a cleverish nose for the smells. Mamma says Joyous could be smelling a baked biscuit from the other side of the world. Or a roasted chicken roll with gravy sauce, my favourite for special days my birthday.
Fair enough. So, what smells the same?
Wind off the river. Sun on the grass. Small flowers with the purple pieces and whiteness.
So, over there, where that –
It is a playing ground for the children.
Then –
Mamma’s house is being gone. It is a playing ground for the children.
Oh, Joyous, I’m sorry.
Mm.
You okay?
Yes, Moonbeam. Things did be changing, like you were telling me and being righteous.
I know. But it would’ve been good …
Yes, it would’ve been good.
Sorry, big guy.
Moonbeam!
What?
There. There, on my finger!
Is that it?
It is the kingdom tree!
Really?
Yes. It is the righteous smell, sharp like toothbrushes and the red petals –
It’s big, all right. Must have been here for years.
The kingdom tree is forever.
And you used to climb it?
Yes, oh yes, indeedy-do.
Awesome, big tree, all on your own. Just the leaves and the sky and a few loopy birds. Sitting on top of the world.
Yes, Moonbeam. Sitting to be on top of the world.
Playing God. Hey, Joy-ous, okay now?
Yes, Moonbeam. It is a big okayness.
Not too sad about your mother’s house?
Joyous is being happy, not sad.
Working things around, are you?
Yes. Moonbeam, the little girl on the red seesaw is being pretty and smiley.
Yes, she is.
And very bounciful. Like Sasha without the sick. She is being happy. Happy like Joyous and happy like Moonbeam!
Maybe.
Now Joyous will be explaining the way of knowing. It could’ve been a bad bit because Mamma’s farm is being disappeared but working around a little is a good bit because the kingdom tree is stretched up high as a flying kite and a playing ground and the pretty little smiley girl is bounciful.
That’s the coolest way of looking at the world, Joyous.
Yes. It is the coolest.
Feel like a swing? No, even better. Let’s climb up. Let’s sit on top of the world.
Yes, Moonbeam. Yes, indeedy-do.
ASHLEIGH
I don’t know the name of that type of tree but I do know that they’re everywhere, dotted around parks in the city. I’m pretty sure we even used to have a couple in the backyard at the old place. Man, I loved that yard, with its scrappy grass and puddles between the strawberry beds and raggedy bushes. Back then, I was allowed to be a mad, muddy kid, riding my red scooter across dirt-heaps that my father pushed together with his spade, catching Christmas beetles in jars or seeing how high I could take the old tyre swing. It was great.
Of course, that was before we moved into their perfectly designed, perfectly landscaped, perfectly spotless, dream home.
Dream? Nightmare.
Anyway, I’ve always liked those trees because they’re low to the ground and clean, not sappy or covered with ants. They grow wide with thick, knotty branches, then they bend down like old people who are still proud, despite their age. At night they look like giant birds about to take off, wings half-raised in the shadows. But in daylight they have these lovely soft almond-shaped leaves which are actually made up of a spine and ribs with lots of tiny green dots. In autumn the wind blows the dots away so the ends of the branches look like finger-bones, skinny and curled. In spring the dots come back and the trees flower in bright red clusters, the petals as light and fragile as a spider’s silk.
I had to help Joyous up – he’s not very coordinated – but once we got into the branches there were plenty of hand and footholds. Because of his size I made sure he stayed on the biggest branch where he lumbered about like an old bear before settling into a fork. There was a space near the top for him to see out so we sat there and ate some sandwiches I had bought at the bakery. Lunch in the sky, I told him, which made him laugh then he repeated it at least thirty times. I was stuck with a knot in my back but it didn’t matter, he was yapping away about everything that he could see, like this cute kid in the playground, and that was reward enough.
That’s the thing with Joyous, he makes me feel glad because I can help him and be a friend to him by explaining stuff and just being there, I guess, but he also makes me feel ashamed at how unreasonable I can be, have been, in my own life. He is so decent. He just refuses to see the ‘bad bit’ in anything. No, re-phrase that, he sees it but he refuses to allow it to stick in his head, or dominate him. This working it around idea he goes on about, his father’s philosophy, when I first heard that, I thought, pretty basic, childish, as if that can make any difference – but it does. It does. Because he believes in it so strongly, it works. It’s like – like a faith.
Late last year, when things were starting to go pear-shaped at home, I stayed in my room for a while, turned off my phone (yes, true) and created this online journal made up of images, YouTube clips, animations, photos, anything that appealed to me. I called it Reasons, as in reasons to hang onto the edge, not let go and maybe, eventually, step back a bit. It was cool but lacking something, like when you meet a hot-looking guy then he opens his mouth and you realise he’s a moron (yes, you, Kyle Leggett). So I (stupidly) showed Kadie who gooed and gaaed but couldn’t get past the clip of the Black Eyed Peas because she’s (still) convinced that Taboo will one day call around to 34 Shell Street and propose engagement-marriage-ten thousand babies. Then she rabbited on about sticking a link to Reasons on Facebook. Great, I said, three billion amateur counsellors, just what I need, but she didn’t get it and I remember thinking, You’re a dimwit, girl, you don’t understand the inside, you want nothing more in life than to be noticed. And you’ll do whatever for that to happen. Like, if an ad came out for a fab new body-wash made from essence of pig-poo, Kadie would be first in line, buying up big, slapping it on with a trowel then uploading a thousand photos of herself grinning like a ditz as she waited for the (in her mind, inevitable) modelling contract.
Eventually I worked out that Reasons needed some decent words to bring everything together. That was when I remembered another of Miss Qureshi’s why-we-need-English lessons when she talked about learning life from Shakespeare. She said, His plays contain everything you’ll ever need to know about people. And Kyle-brain-dead-moron said, Like how to pick up chicks, hey, Miss? And Miss Qureshi said, Yes, Kyle, even that, and gave him this humungous gotcha-wink which made Kyle blush because he’s got a thing for Miss Qureshi who is amazing-looking, in an olive-skin, Italian-film-star, kind of way.
Anyway, that night I looked up some quotes from Shakespeare. Even though I didn’t understand many, I did like: Say as you think and speak it from your souls, so that went into my homepage. Then I figured that, maybe, instead of words from know-everything Bill, I could use lyrics from my favourite songs and that’s when I remembered the song ‘Fireworks’ and the line that became the signature of Reasons: After a hurricane, comes a rainbow.
The secret to a sound-bite, said Mr Van Coote during a history unit on propaganda, is to keep it short and sharp, meaningful and memorable. I loved that ‘Fireworks’ sound-bite because it was so assured. The rainbow wasn’t just a possibility, it was going to happen. For a month or two, as my family’s arc shifted and warped, I looked at Reasons every night, tinkered with it and fell into it – like a faith. It was the rainbow promise that kept me away from the edge, for a while anyway.
And that’s exactly how it is with Joyous and his father’s philosophy. His belief saves him. It gives him a rhythm, a way of getting himself in-step with the world. Without it, I guess everything for Joyous would be random, unable to be explained. He needs the philosophy to make sense of it all, create order.
It was a gift, what his father did for Joyous. And the difference between us, I think, the reason that this big, clumsy, disadvantaged fella is a better, happier person than me, is that Joyous has had both the desire and the courage to keep the faith, whereas I haven’t. Or couldn’t. Didn’t. Whatever.
Massage the bad bits to discover the good bits. This morning, when we were sitting in the park, I realised how much he has taught me. That’s what made our trip to Kinsville special, and necessary. It hasn’t just been goodbye, it’s been a way of saying thanks. Watching his delight in the river, the tree and the ducks (on cue, amazing!) made me see how uncomplicated things can be, and how good that is. Simple is good, and believing, genuinely believing, in the rainbow after the hurricane, is really good.
If coming to Kinsville was important for Joyous, it was super-important for me. Why? Because of re-growth. I finally understood how much I cared for him and how much I cared for the world, and that was really good to know. It was cleansing. We sat in the sky in that lovely old tree and I thought, I’m doing something good for another person because I care, and that feels great, better than sucking up to Kadie McIntosh or pleasing Bracks or pleasing my parents or, for that matter, pleasing me.
Caring for Joyous has pulled me back from the edge. That’s how it is with him. That’s what you get with rainbows.
MARGARET
Joyous, My Special
Now is the time to write my final letter to you and it is fair to say that this is the most difficult thing for me to write and also for you to ever have to read with more big Secrets but I want you to always remember my love. Love will see you through every calamity and that is what Thomas Bowen taught me and what has stood us in good stead since his passing. So here goes.
As you know from my earlier letters, I had become a regular parishioner at The Church Of The New Apostolic Creed for some years due to the kindness of Alice McDowd and her husband, Jonathon, and my many other friends there. You also know how special this was for Mamma, a saviour, and how it had given me more to live for in terms of reasons, you of course and being your mamma on behalf of my beloved sister Jennifer, then the church.
A few months ago, on a day that you now know well, Mamma knew that the church was having a special fete with cakes and stalls and lucky dips and raffles to raise money fo
r orphans. You see the church in all its good work also looks after some poor children from Nepal and to do this needs donations and funds raised. Now this special fete was being held on a Saturday on account of being a day when people would be happy to come and donate and not be working. Because of being on a Saturday Mamma knew that she wouldn’t be able to go with Sammy-K asking, Where do you think you’re going? And finding out about the church. But then in a strange turn-around he said that he was off out for a while and when I said, Why? How long? And he said going to see a man about a job a few hours, probably longer, they’d no doubt want him to do some work to prove himself. So I thought that maybe with Sammy-K out working to prove himself I could get to the church fete and help, which was what I really wanted and you were with Mr Santorini doing extra so it was looking A-okay.
But sometimes, My Special, things don’t happen as we plan. This has been evident to Mamma throughout her life but you just have to keep going, don’t you, and do as Thomas Bowen said with the working it around a little which you have become very good at, making me proud as punch. When I got to the church I was very pleased to be there among friends and Alice asked me to help Jonathon with the tombola which is like a lotto with tickets in a spinning drum. Mamma was very happy to do this selling tickets to good people, two dollars a pop, and knowing that the orphans in Nepal would benefit as a result. It was all going swimmingly and Jonathon said with a smile, We’ll count the money soon, Margaret, very profitable! So I was getting a glow on the inside when I looked up and there was Sammy-K who had been drinking again and with more anger than I have ever seen before and since.
Joyous and Moonbeam Page 9