by Máire Fisher
‘No, please, Detective Ace,’ I called after him. ‘I’d like you to stay. That is, if you want to? You were very important to my brothers. You never gave up.’
He paused, then turned around and walked back to the other side of the table.
And there, flanked by their little sister and a detective from the South African Police, Oz and Ollie were given an update on family life. They learned about Angela, ‘She married Andy, just like we knew she would, and they have two kids now’; about Anthea and a few of her scrapes, ‘She’s wild, but I think she just needs to find someone to love her’; about Alice and her studies, ‘She’s going to be a world famous entomologist.’ About their parents: ‘They’re just the same, they love each other just as much as they ever did. Only now they’re quieter. We’re all quieter.’ I told my brothers how much we missed them. How Annie used to wake up howling in the night and how Orville had paced a bald track on the carpet in their room. How Angela had named her firstborn child Olivia. Then on to Anthea and how she had played her music full blast and drunk half a bottle of cane the night they had called off the search, and me … how I had crawled into every cupboard in the house, searching for my lost brothers.
I had to be truthful too. ‘The only one who wasn’t ever all that upset was Ma,’ I said. ‘All she cared about was that you’d broken the rules.’ I didn’t want to say any more about her. She didn’t deserve any more of our time.
‘We closed the gap at the dining-room table,’ I said. ‘We had to take away the chairs. That was one of the nights Annie wailed and I heard Orville walking round and round in your room. So you see, we all love you so much, and we still miss you. We always will. But now you’ve been found, we can let you go again. Only this time you can go properly.’ I looked over to Detective Ace and smiled. ‘You can move with the sea. Hitchhike your way around the world.
‘That’s about it, I think.’ I moved closer and looked into the box. Their skulls caught my movements in small patches of shadow.
‘All done?’ Detective Ace asked.
‘Nearly,’ I said. ‘There’s just one last thing.’
‘Yes, Miss Bird?’
‘The thing is, Orville and Annie, and my sisters, they seem to think I shouldn’t know stuff.’
‘Yes,’ Detective Ace prompted and then lapsed into silence.
‘What I don’t know is— I mean, can they tell from looking at the bones, what he— Did he do the same—?’
‘Did he kill them the same way as the other children?’ Detective Ace said the words gently, but they still had the power to leave me feeling winded.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That.’
He put an arm around my shoulders and spoke from a height so that I didn’t have to look into his eyes.
‘He broke their necks, Bird. Just like he did with all the others.’
I swallowed. ‘So it was quick for them too, then?’
‘Yes, very quick.’
The breath left my body in a whistling sigh. I gripped the edge of the cardboard box, looked down at my brothers one last time. ‘Okay. I’m ready to leave now.’
Detective Ace took me by the arm and guided me out of the room, in the same way that chivalrous gentlemen help old ladies across the street. The door swung closed. I didn’t need to look back at Oz and Ollie.
I had one more place to go, and I wanted to get there at once.
‘Where to now?’ Detective Ace asked me as we emerged, blinking in the sunlight.
‘The harbour,’ I said.
‘Ah. The fishing?’
Of course, he’d understand about that. He had devoted so many hours to finding out the details of my brothers’ lives.
‘Would you like me to take you there?’
I looked across the road to where a police van was parked. ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’d prefer to ride my bike.’
‘Well, then.’ Detective Ace squeezed my elbow. He searched his pockets for his keys.
‘Detective Ace?’ He stopped. ‘You know how people are always saying the police are hopeless and can’t solve anything?’ His lips twitched. ‘Well, it’s not true,’ I said. ‘I know you didn’t find my brothers – but that wasn’t because you did anything wrong. You did explore all avenues.’
He patted me on the shoulder. ‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Bird.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not kind. It’s true. You’re one of the ones who want to make the world safer for all of us. It’s just a pity—’
‘I know,’ he said. He patted me on the shoulder again. ‘We can’t save every one. But I’ll keep trying. Goodbye, Miss Bird, and good luck.’ There was a crackle of noise from the radio in his car. ‘Well, I must be on my way.’
‘Me too,’ I said.
Traffic had slowed to a steady trickle by the time I got onto my bike and headed for the harbour.
I pedalled slowly, looking out to sea and up to the mountains. In my ruck-sack sat the small parts of my brothers.
I picked up my pace, oblivious to the cars that swept past me. All I wanted was to get to the harbour, and stand on the wall where my brothers had promised I would join them one day.
When I got to the traffic lights at the turnoff to the harbour, I got down from my bike and pushed it over the railway line. Then I freewheeled down the narrow road that led to the harbour where the fishing boats were moored. The sea was calm, the boats sat silent, gaily painted, unmoving on the still water. I got off my bike and looked around.
‘It’s a beautiful day,’ I said to Oz and Ollie. ‘And there’s no one here. Just you and me.’ I pulled my ballerina box out of my rucksack and opened it carefully. Carpals, metacarpals and phalanges. The bones of the human hand. And I was holding two of them, two tiny joints, sure that one belonged to Oz and one to Ollie.
‘We’re family,’ I said to my brothers, ‘and we always will be.’ Tears streamed down my face. ‘I’ll come back here to remember you, I promise.’
My hand clenched, pushing the bones hard into my palm.
‘This is it, then,’ I said to them. ‘Time to say goodbye. Send you on your way.’ I looked at the small bones in the palm of my hand. I pulled my arm back as far as I could and hurled Oz and Ollie onto the gentle sea. Then I sat and watched my brothers’ bones bobbing, wondering what current would pull them out to start their world trip. Because I knew that’s where they were headed.
Ollie and Oz were finally off on their last adventure.
Of course, they still had the ceremony for you, after they collected the rest of your bones from the undertakers, all beautifully packaged now in a small wooden coffin with the lid closed so no one need be upset by the sight of your remains. First we had a service in the chapel, and Orville said something about how much we all loved you and how you were finally at rest. Then we all got into one of Mr Leonides’s cars and were driven to the cemetery. The wind howled and sand whipped up and stung our eyes. We gathered around the hole in the ground. As the minister said a prayer, your coffin was lowered on special straps that made a creaking noise. Each of us took a handful of dirt and threw it onto the top of your coffin. Then we walked away. Everyone was crying, except me. My mind was filled with the smell that waves make when they crash against the harbour wall, and blue skies and gulls freewheeling and the wind fingering the jagged peaks of the mountains.
V
1
If I’d thought my visit to Mr Leonides and the harbour would be the end of it all, I was wrong. Ten years of sorrow takes longer than that to wash away. It’s not that easy to be happy. In those days after my trip to Mr Leonides, I held my sadness close to me.
I tried to stop writing to Oz and Ollie, to sever any threads that held them in my world. It was a hard habit to break. No more sitting down at my desk in the quiet space after supper, telling them about something curious or exciting or worrying. My brothers were my confidants, and I missed having them there to listen as I spilled my heart. I stopped myself from heading for my desk and opening a book to write, bu
t it was impossible to break the habit of talking to them inside my head. Added to that, a shadow, a murmur, a sense of something still there, made me feel my brothers weren’t quite ready to leave.
Take it as it comes, I said to them, go when you’re ready. But while I have you here, let me tell you, I think our grandmother is finally going mad. Today she terrified me.
Ten years after my brothers disappeared, four weeks before I turned sixteen, eight days after my trip to the library and three days after my trip to the undertaker, I delivered a noontime meal to Ma Bess, a delicate smidge of the Sunday roast, a small portion of perfectly cooked carrots and a tablespoon of petits pois. I had to hurry upstairs before the peas went crinkly otherwise she’d send me back down again to bring her up more. I put her tray down and turned to make my escape. But no such luck.
‘You’ve been to town then, snooping into the murder?’
I stopped, turned slowly and stepped back into the room. She swiped at her face as if she was wiping sleep from her eyes. Then her hand fell to the arm of her wheelchair.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, but she ignored me.
‘You went snooping, despite your parents telling you to leave well enough alone?’
I nodded, resigned. Somehow, she’d sniffed that out. I was too tired to try to figure out how.
‘And what did you make of the illustrious Mr Stone?’
I looked down. The last thing I wanted was to allow a single thought more about Dirk Stone into my head.
‘And the detective, Uys? You saw him too? Do your parents know about that? About your pestering the poor man?’
I shook my head, intent on my own toenails.
‘Look at me, girl,’ Ma Bess snapped. ‘Show some spine for heaven’s sake. Do you know how infuriating this hangdog expression of yours can be?’
I raised my head and met her eyes. Her face had purpled alarmingly and a large vein throbbed in her forehead.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
She looked at me mutely, her tongue working in her mouth.
‘I’m calling Annie.’
‘Nunnhh. No!’ Her voice was thick, struggling to get words out. ‘Have questions. Stone, say anything to detectives?’
‘Now, you mean? In Joburg?’
‘Yes. Joburg.’ Her speech became more glottal. ‘Bad boys, say where bad boys were?’
Her face was even darker. I had to let Annie know. But as I moved away, she said something that froze me in my tracks.
‘Find them on the mountain. Dogs sniff – find naughty boys.’
I looked at her sharply – nothing spineless in my stare. ‘Dogs? What do you mean?’
Ma Bess sounded as if she was trying to gargle. ‘Boys climb mountain. Shirt. Sock. Dogs follow smells. Dogs sniff!’ She looked at me, her expression strangely pleading. ‘Up down, nothing-nothing-nothing.’
I stared back at her, too scared to speak in case I said the wrong thing and stopped her rambling. Her hands were in her lap, moving constantly, one over the other, rings flashing in the chill light. She continued and I stood there, trapped in the second bad movie of the month.
‘Naughty boys go up mountain. Bye Mom. Going fishing.’ She darted a glance at me that was both shrewd and lost. ‘Boys know rules. Don’t walk mountain. Don’t go alone. But,’ she slipped into a wheedling parody of a small boy’s voice:
‘“Just a little explore, Ollie.”
‘“No, no, Oz.”
‘Naughty boys.’ She clicked her tongue and the nasty little tutting sound broke my horrified silence.
‘You knew?’ I whispered. ‘You knew and you didn’t say anything?’
Ma Bess raised her head but she wasn’t seeing me. She continued her monstrous tale, speaking to the shadow beings who flocked behind her eyes. ‘Boys whisper-whisper. I go to door. I hear them. All night, all day, boys gone. Bad boys, break rules. Teach them a lesson. Serve them right, naughty children. Police upstairs, downstairs. “Ask old lady.”’ Her lip curled. ‘Old.’
I backed away from her slowly. I didn’t want to say another word in that room, couldn’t bring myself to stay there another minute.
I told Annie that Ma Bess had rambled on and on, but I didn’t tell her what she had spoken about. Annie scrubbed her face with her hands. ‘It’s happened with me as well, Bird. Dr Woods says we should be consulting a gerontologist.’
Whatever that was. I couldn’t pretend to be all that concerned about Ma Bess and her health. I was intrigued, though. Had this happened before? Did she often flip the switch between garbled and lucid like this? Was it like having a little man inside your head, fiddling, deciding what to switch off and what to leave on? On, off, sense, nonsense.
That night Annie brought her supper up to her and Ma Bess flew into a rage because the soup wasn’t hot enough. And then she stuttered, gobbled and gargled and blanked out and Annie called Dr Woods.
‘Watch her carefully,’ he said to Annie as they stood on the landing. ‘She’s not getting any younger. It could have been a mild stroke. She’s likely to be confused and a little disoriented.’
‘I wish we could get her into hospital for those tests,’ Annie said, ‘but she refuses to budge.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Dr Woods and they passed out of earshot.
Later I heard Annie saying to Orville, ‘Dr Woods says it could be dementia, but he’s not sure. She might also have had a series of mini-strokes. He says we should monitor her carefully, see if there are any other symptoms.’
I went to bed that night and I closed my eyes, ready to sleep, but no sleep came. Instead I saw my brothers in that cave, and Dirk Stone, slender hands and square chin and boy-next-door grin gone rotten, and I saw my brothers gabbling, heard them frenzied, trying to think of something, anything to tell him to make him happy. Singing, singing, singing for him, for their supper, for their lives.
And behind my closed eyes, deep in my skull, the words again. ‘She knew.’ They might have had a chance. They might have been found. She knew and she didn’t say a word.
From the moment he snapped their necks, my brothers gave themselves up to the process of unbecoming. But not lifelessness. Because as their bodies bloated and their innards liquefied, they offered themselves back to the earth. They became host to an army of small winged or burrowing creatures, to the millions of molecules in the air. The flesh on their bones slipped away, their hair shredded and left only wisps behind. Until all that remained were bones the shape and size of two boys. The shape of sorrow.
And all the while this was happening, day by day as they melted into the earth, she could have said something. The words shuddered inside me all night. They drummed me awake each time I tried to fall asleep. She knew.
The next morning I lay staring at my ceiling of shapes, but they had all changed. Every form I saw was a twisted one. The fantasy had ended, and the real world was a place filled with people like Ma Bess and Dirk Stone. What was the point of trying to do the right thing when people like them held so much power? With a snap of her fingers, she had us all doing her bidding. With a flick of his wrist and a bit of a squeeze, Dirk Stone killed my brothers.
If she had said something, they would have searched the mountain immediately, instead of concentrating the search in and around the area where the boys left their bikes.
But she didn’t speak. Maybe she was piqued because the detective had shown so little interest in her. Maybe she believed the lie she told herself: that the mountain had been searched. Or maybe – and this was the worst of all, I knew it, in my bones, and in my blood and in the raging messiness of my brain – maybe she just didn’t care beyond thinking it was time Ollie and Oz were taught a lesson. How could I confront Annie and Orville with this information? How could I do anything without absolute proof?
I had to know more, and the only way to do that was to ask Ma Bess. I had to go up there, uninvited. And this time I would be doing the questioning.
2
I walked up the
stairs with nothing in my hands. No food for my grandmother, no newly laundered linen, or sweets, or newspapers, or books from the library, or magazines, or water, or hand cream, or playing cards, or lace-work, or videos from the shop on the main road. I was going in empty-handed, with a head full of questions.
I knocked, tentatively. No reply. I put my ear to the door and heard a light whiffle interrupted by a deep breath followed by the whiffling again.
Just my luck. I had plucked up all that courage for nothing. I pulled away from the door. I’d have to come back again, and soon, before my courage failed me.
And then, there was a sudden snuffle from behind the door. ‘Who’s there? What is it?’
I opened the door cautiously.
‘You, girl. What do you want?’ Ma Bess’s hair was dishevelled and she put up a hand to smooth it down. Her eyes were still glazed by sleep and she blinked rapidly. ‘Is it afternoon tea? Where’s my tray? Did Thelma make the carrot cake?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s too early for tea.’
‘Then what are you doing here? Does your mother need something?’
‘No. Nothing like that. It’s me. I need to ask …’ I stumbled over the words.
‘Well, girl, you’ve disturbed my nap now, spit it out. Though what you could possibly want from me, I wouldn’t know.’ She paused. A crafty look slid across her face and into her eyes and she looked at me narrowly.
I took a deep breath. And then another. My body leaned back from her, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from retreating before I had even said a word.
‘You might have all day to stand in one place like a gangling idiot,’ said Ma Bess, ‘but I don’t. If you have nothing better to do—’
‘You knew,’ I broke in on her. ‘You knew the boys had planned to go up the mountain that day. You overheard them on their landing making plans. But you never told anyone.’
Her eyes were lifeless now – no expression, no hint of what she was hiding. ‘What in the name of all that is mighty are you talking about, you insolent wretch of a girl?’