by Susan Stairs
I would find him. I had to. I shouldn’t have left him outside. It was all my fault. Was he really gone? Maybe someone took him by mistake? Maybe it was a joke? But who would play a joke like that? Who would be that heartless, that utterly horrible? That . . .
Then I saw him.
David.
Rattling the pram at speed towards Shayne, his lolloping legs kicking high in the air behind him.
I raced across the corner of the green, reaching the path just in time to grab hold of his arm and pull him to a stop outside the Vaughans’. I shoved him away as roughly as I could and he stumbled against the wall.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I screamed at him. ‘Are you mental or what?’
‘Take it easy. It was just a joke,’ he said, rubbing at his shoulder. He glanced at Shayne. ‘We . . . I . . . I didn’t mean any harm.’
I ripped off the pram cover and there was Kev, wrapped in his blanket, fast asleep.
‘A joke?’ I asked, my voice rising. ‘You think that’s funny?’
Before he could answer, Shayne butted in. ‘Told ye she wouldn’t like it, didn’t I? But ye just wouldn’t listen.’ His eyes were hard and dull like old pennies, even under the warm glow of the fancy carriage lamp. He slid from the wall and leaned against it, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He shook his head. ‘Think ye know everythin’, O’Dea, don’t ye? Big eejit.’
David shuffled, clicking the stud on his wristband and staring at Shayne. He had that look again, the one that made me think about people who burst into flames. He bit at his lip then he turned to me. ‘I’m sorry, OK?’ he said. I held tight to the pram handle as I listened. ‘It was . . . I mean . . . look, I’m sorry. That’s all.’
It was strange hearing him speak normally, with no weird accent or odd words.
‘How could you think something like that was funny?’ I asked. ‘How would you like it if you thought your sisters were in danger? Would you think that was a joke?’
He stared at me, then glanced again at Shayne and was about to say something, but at that second Paddy Vaughan arrived home in his van. He swerved into the driveway, beeping the horn and nearly hitting the garage door. He jumped out, beaming at the boys, his stomach wobbling under his shirt.
Shayne came away from the wall and moved towards the Vaughans’ gate, patting the hood of Kev’s pram as he passed. ‘Sure there’s no harm done anyways, is there?’ he said and went to see what Paddy had brought home for the bonfire. I caught David’s eye and though there was sorrow in his gaze, I couldn’t be certain that was all he was feeling. I was sure he was hiding something, that his face wasn’t showing all that he felt inside. He followed Shayne, keeping his head down. My heart beat so fast I could feel it in my throat.
I leaned in to the pram and stroked Kev’s face. I felt sick at the thought that he could’ve been hurt. David had been running so fast, the pram might easily have toppled over. I wanted to believe it was all a joke, but if David really was sorry, he had a weird way of showing it.
He hadn’t once looked in at Kev or asked if he was all right.
I was still shaky as I started to walk home. I decided not to tell Mam what had happened. Or anyone. There was no point in worrying them. Kev was OK despite his ordeal. And I was sure Mam would give out, even though she often left the pram outside the shops herself. But I’d always be keeping an eye, she’d say, and I knew I’d end up thinking it was my fault. I felt bad enough without anyone else making me feel worse.
I carried on towards the cul-de-sac. Kev was awake now, making little gurgling noises. He squirmed and struggled and loosened his blanket, so I leaned in to tuck it back around his legs. He smiled up at me and I tickled him under his chin.
‘Who’s the sweetest wittle angel?’ I said. ‘Who’s the best wittle boy in the wo—’
I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t want anyone to hear my baby talk so I stopped and busied myself with Kev’s blanket, waiting for them to pass. But no one did.
I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. Nothing. Not a sign of anyone. Only the weak, hazy glimmer of the nearest streetlamp and the faint bong-bong of church bells.
I pushed the pram a few feet. Then I was sure I heard steps again. I flicked my head around but the path was dark and empty behind me. My mind was playing tricks; my head was all muddled after the scare I’d had. I squeezed the pram handle and was about to carry on when, without warning, a figure leapt out at me from behind a gatepost, arms and legs flailing like crazy.
‘Booooooooo!’ Then high-pitched shrieking laughter.
I screamed, terrified.
‘Who’s a little angel then? Hahaha! Who’s the best little wittle baby boy?’ A fierce, ugly face leered in to my own, all red and green and black. The devil’s face. My devil. My mask.
It was Shayne. He pulled the mask off his head and held it out to me. ‘Ye dropped it. I just wanted to give it back.’ He was trying hard not to laugh. I took the mask, shoved it under the pram cover and went to push past him. I didn’t want to even look at him. But he’d wedged his foot under one of the pram wheels and it wouldn’t budge.
‘Ah, come on! I was only havin’ a laugh! And ye got your mask back, didn’t ye?’ Though I said nothing, my face showed him how I was feeling. ‘Jesus! Sorry! I didn’t think ye’d be like that. I thought ye’d like a laugh after what O’Dea did.’
‘Get your foot out from under the wheel,’ I said. ‘I’d like to bring my brother home.’
‘Look, don’t mind O’Dea. He doesn’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.’
‘It was a horrible thing to do.’
‘I know. It was stupid! I told him not to do it. I should’ve stopped him but he . . . well . . . ye know what he’s like.’
I clenched my teeth and gripped the handle tighter. He was right up close to me and I could feel his hot breath on my face. I tried to walk but his foot was still under the wheel. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers warm and dry on my skin. ‘Listen, thanks for givin’ me snake back that time. I never said, but I found it under me pillow. I kind of knew all along ye hadn’t thrown it down Goggin’s jacks.’ He’d softened his voice and his words sort of whistled in my ear. ‘But I was wonderin’ if . . . ye know . . . ye had the tongue? I mean, it’s missin’, and me uncle Joe’s comin’ tomorrow to do the fireworks and I don’t want him to go mental when he sees the snake. Cost him a fortune, so it did. That’s what me ma says, anyways.’
I swallowed. If he thought I was going to let him have the tongue after what he’d just done, he thought wrong. I shook my head. ‘Never saw it. Not sure if it even had a tongue.’
His grasp tightened slightly on my wrist. ‘It did. It definitely did. Ye’re tellin’ lies again. I know it.’
I heard a car coming around the corner and looked over my shoulder. ‘There’s my dad,’ I said. ‘Let me go.’ I tried to pull away.
‘If ye find it, ye better hand it over.’ He squeezed hard before releasing me then walked backwards a couple of steps so he could look into my face. His eyes had a kind of desperate look in them but I stared past him and carried on quickly towards home.
Dad was climbing out of the car when I got to the gate.
‘At the shop, were you?’ he asked, leaning in to get his rolled up Evening Press from the dash.
‘Yeah.’ I said, and I coughed to get the shake out of my voice. ‘Getting you some HP. It’s shepherd’s pie tonight.’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘Best news I’ve had all day.’ He peeped in under the pram hood and tickled Kev under his chin. ‘And how’s the little fella? Did he enjoy his jaunt to the shops?’
‘He’s . . . he’s fne,’ I said, blinking back tears. ‘Not a bother on him.’
My insides were hot and fiery when I thought about what David had done. The fright of it all was only hitting me now as Dad helped me into the hall with the pram. I had to keep telling myself to calm down, that it was OK, that Kev hadn’t been hurt.
; Mam put a mountain of shepherd’s pie in front of me but I couldn’t eat much, so Dad cheerfully scraped my leftovers onto his plate and dribbled them with a river of HP. Then Kev started crying and I jumped up, offering to see to him. I picked him up and cuddled him close. He smelled of baby lotion and fresh air, and his warmth seeped into my chest. While I rocked him in my arms and hummed softly in his hot little ear, I stared at the wall and wondered if the man underneath could tell I was upset. No one else had noticed so I must’ve hidden it well. But I couldn’t help thinking he knew.
David O’Dea was nasty. And Shayne wasn’t much better after the way he scared me too. I didn’t know which of them I disliked more. But it angered me a lot that despite what Shayne had done, I hadn’t hated the flow of his breath on my face. Or the grip of his fingers, tight around my wrist.
On Hallowe’en night, as soon as it was dark, the three of us went outside. Mel met up with the rest of the boys and Sandra skipped off with the twins. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to be seen with me, mainly because I’d decided not to go overboard with the dressing up. I wore just the devil mask, my dark grey slacks and a black polo neck jumper of Dad’s. She’d wanted me to wear a length of red ribbon for a tail but I said no. She said I looked stupid but I didn’t care. I preferred to go around by myself anyway.
Bridie’s was the first house I went to. Despite my plaits dangling out from behind my mask, she had no idea who I was.
‘And who’s the little devil?’ she asked, genuinely puzzled. It was only when I asked her had she sliced the brack I’d help her make that she realized who I was. ‘Ruth! I’d never have guessed it was you!’ she said, getting all excited. She reached in to her hall table then thrust a plate of brack under my nose, making sure the biggest, thickest slice was the nearest to me and giving me a big wink when I took it. I slid my mask up to the top of my head and bit into the brack, pretending to be completely surprised at finding the ring buried in the middle. ‘Well, now! You’ll be married within the year!’ she laughed, flinging a whole net of monkey nuts into my bag along with a bunch of red grapes, a handful of Iced Caramels and two large Jaffa oranges. I slipped the ring on my finger, squeezed it tight, and went on my way.
Out on the green, a throng was beginning to gather. Shayne was dancing around the unlit bonfire, wearing Liz’s fringed suede waistcoat, a pair of cowboy boots like the ones I’d seen peeping out from under Liz’s bed, and a purple feather stuck behind his ear. David sat on the black leather armchair, dressed in his normal smart clothes, unconcerned at the scene around him. He had one of Paddy’s offcuts on his knees and was using it as an imaginary keyboard, tapping his fingers across its surface, his hair falling over his eyes as he ‘played’. He made a face over at me, acting as if my disguise had given him a fright, then he laughed really loud and stared at me for ages.
My plastic bag rustled as I walked, its contents banging against my knees. The inside of my mask became damp and warm as I breathed, and I kept having to push it to the top of my head so I didn’t feel like I was going to suffocate. As I went along the path, I held out my hand to admire the emerald stone in the ring. I loved the way it flashed and glittered like a cat’s eye in the moonlight. I was glad Bridie had made sure I got it. Sandra might demand the one from our own brack, but she could hardly make me hand over this one too. Bridie had been wrong about her brack though; shop-bought tasted much better than homemade. I spat out the bite I’d taken and tossed the remainder of the slice over a wall.
When I called to David’s house, Mr O’Dea answered the door. He glanced up from the folded newspaper he was reading then stared at me when I asked him to ‘help the Hallowe’en party’, as if he’d no idea what night it was. So I said it again, in case my voice had been a bit muffled coming from behind my mask. He scratched his head and called for Mrs O’Dea, who came to the door carrying a brown speckled banana and four brazil nuts, which she dumped in the bottom of my bag without saying a word.
As I went from house to house, the crowd on the green continued to grow. More parents came and stood around chatting, stamping their feet against the cold. Some kids gathered in small groups, heads bowed as they looked into each other’s bags, while others ran in and out of the trees and bushes, whooping and shrieking with excitement. I made my way over, satisfied now that I’d done my bit to help the Hallowe’en party. The bonfire was sure to be lit soon and I didn’t want to miss the first burst of flame.
David was relaxing in the armchair now, his long legs fully stretched out and his hands behind his head. Shayne sat on the ground, picking through his bag. Every couple of seconds he looked up from his task, throwing glances towards the entrance to the estate. He wasn’t the only one waiting for Uncle Joe. I was looking forward to his arrival too, almost more interested in seeing him than his firework display.
As I walked closer to the crowd, Shayne caught sight of me then turned his head away. Sandra galloped up, plonked herself down beside him and helped herself to his stash of goodies. He said something to her and they both laughed and she glanced over to make sure I was looking. Then there was a huge surge towards the bonfire as Paddy – self-appointed chief firelighter – beamed and made a big show of taking a box of matches from the top pocket of his overcoat and sliding them open.
‘Stand back, now! Stand back!’ he shouted, getting down on his hunkers. He leaned in and stretched his arm through the gaps in the timber pile to the tepee-shaped bit in the middle. After only a couple of seconds, the flame took hold and the bonfire was ablaze. A cheer went up and some of the adults started to clap. The dry wood hissed and popped as it burned, sending grey smoke curling up through the night like straggly wisps of witch’s hair.
Shayne stood as close to the flames as the heat would allow. The light on his face showed up the faking lines of white paint that he’d daubed across each cheek. I wondered had he deliberately chosen not to wear a mask, or had his homemade disguise been forced upon him because Liz wouldn’t give him the money to buy one. The glass beads on the fringes of his waistcoat shone in the firelight, causing tiny sparks to dart out from his body with every breath that he took. A golden line edged each feature of his face: his snub nose, his pointed chin, his flickering eyelashes, and his lips moving in and out as he sucked on a mouthful of sticky sweets.
As I watched him through my eyeholes, I thought about the snake tongue sitting on its cotton wool bed in my jewellery box and wondered was it bad to feel so good about having something that he wanted. Then, with a sudden twist of his head, he caught me staring straight at him. My breath dampened the inside of my mask and made a whooshing noise that swam all around my head and I felt like I was underwater, about to drown. I was glad he couldn’t see my face.
Half an hour went by and still there was no sign of Uncle Joe.
‘I don’t know, OK?’ Shayne shouted when Sandra asked again what time the fireworks were starting. He began to pace around the bonfire, picking monkey nuts from his bag and flinging them into the flames. David still hadn’t left the leather armchair despite Mel and a few others trying to pitch him out of it so they could toss it onto the flames. Shayne went over to him a couple of times and kicked at the base of the chair, mumbling under his breath and keeping an eye on the entrance to the estate.
Mam and Dad came onto the green, with Kev fast asleep in his pram, and before long, Geraldine and Nora arrived, closely followed by Mr Farrell – Clem – and the rest of the Farrells. Even Mr and Mrs O’Dea ventured out, but they left their front door open and stood on the edge of the green. Mr O’Dea surveyed the crowd, one hand holding his pipe and the other tucked into the front of his camel hair coat. After about five minutes, he turned towards home and Mrs O’Dea followed, her head down and her arms folded tight across her chest.
I began glancing up at Shayne’s face every time a car came into the estate, but his expression didn’t change. Not even when Uncle Keith drove by in his battered grey van with Liz in the passenger seat. I thought they might stop, but the
y just sped down to the house and disappeared inside. Dad came over and stood close to me, rubbing his hands together. ‘Doesn’t look like we’re going to get any fireworks,’ he said quietly.
‘No,’ I said, pulling my mask off. ‘Bonfire’s good though.’ I shook my bag of goodies in front of his face. ‘And I got loads of stuff for later.’
‘Great.’ He crouched down beside me. ‘Now . . . what would you say,’ he whispered, his eyes darting over to Mam, ‘if I was to . . . you know . . . stand in for Uncle Joe?’
My skin prickled. ‘What do you mean?’
He rested his hands on his knees and looked into my face. ‘Come on! You must have some idea.’
I’d always thought Dad’s eyes were pure blue, but as I looked into them, I saw they were heavily flecked with green. It might’ve been the firelight, or the fact that it was night-time, but whatever it was, it scared me that I’d never noticed before.
I looked over to the group of adults and watched how Clem stood behind Geraldine like a shadow, only moving when she moved, only smiling after she let out a snort of laughter.
‘You can’t guess then?’ Dad asked me.
I shook my head.
‘Well, then, let’s go and ask Kev, will we?’
‘What’s Kev got to do with it?’
He straightened up and led me over to the pram.
‘You’ll see.’
When we reached the group, Geraldine was going on about hospitals and how she was looking forward to having Farrell number seven in the next few weeks. Nora hung onto her every word, nodding and smiling and trying to butt in each time Geraldine took a breath. But she lost vital seconds trying to remember what she was about to say, and Geraldine always got in before her, leaving Nora waiting in hope, yet again, for the next available break in the conversation.
Dad bent down and took a brown paper package from the wire tray at the bottom of the pram. He gave it to me to hold.‘Go on! Open it up.’