The Biggerers

by Amy Lilwall

  What was that?

  The front door. Jinx jumped up and fluttered her eyelashes. The big She-one appeared. It was really her!

  ‘Hello, Jinx,’ she said, bending down and stroking Jinx’s head.

  Jinx closed her eyes and pressed her head against the hand.

  ‘Didn’t you eat your food?’ said the big She-one, picking up the bowls.

  Jinx opened her mouth but couldn’t answer.

  ‘And where is the other little chilly-billy?’ Susan took the flakes from the top of the fridge and topped up Jinx’s bowl.

  Ah yes! Bonbon! She had to go and see Bonbon to know that she was poorly. Jinx opened her mouth. No words.

  ‘Hmmm? Where is she, Jinx?’ She took a sheet of Fibre-Web and wiped around the edge of Jinx’s bowl without looking at Jinx.

  Jinx stood, making shapes with her mouth, before stepping forward and pinching the back of the She-one’s leg.

  ‘Ow!’ She looked down.

  Jinx held out her arm and pointed towards the big room.

  ‘Is Bonbon in there?’

  She tried to nod but couldn’t, so she pointed again.

  The She-one put down the bowl and strode towards the big room. ‘Oh my roses!’ she said when she saw the cushion. ‘These weren’t the cheapest things to take apart, you two…’ She bent down and lifted off the petals. Bonbon’s teeth clacked together. ‘Oh no! Oh no, not my Bonbon!’ The top of Susan’s head creased into lines. Jinx stared at it and took a step backwards. ‘You poor things, you’ve been so cold.’

  A scarf, thought Susan, a big scarf would do nicely. She opened the hall cupboard. Honestly, how could she have left them so long without their humcoats, she thought as she unwound a scarf from a coat hanger. Poor things. She turned towards the living room, then stopped and started to unwind a second one for Jinx.

  When she returned, Bonbon had curled herself into a ball and Jinx was placing the petals back over her. Susan smiled. ‘Okay, Jinx, let’s just take these off,’ she said as she removed a petal. Jinx glared at her and kicked her hand, actually kicked it; hard. Susan withdrew her hand and gaped for a second. Jinx had never shown any signs of aggression. It must have been because of Bonbon; she was worried about Bonbon. ‘Alright, we’ll leave the petals; I just want to wrap her up in this.’ She showed her the scarf, then started to wrap Bonbon – and the petals – up inside it. Jinx watched what she was doing, leaned forward, and stroked the hand where she had kicked it.

  ‘Oh, you sweetie,’ said Susan. ‘Look,’ she reached behind her, ‘I found one for you too.’ She held up the other scarf in front of Jinx before wrapping it around her and letting one end flop over her head and face. The top of Jinx’s head emerged like a baby bird from an egg. She shuddered, hmmm, this long woolly thing was lovely. She couldn’t imagine ever wanting to take it off; maybe she had been colder than she’d thought! She closed her eyes, not as cold as Bonbon, though, and wove her fingers in and out of the little holes that the wool made.

  Awake. Bonbon was awake. Whiteness and strange voices and that smell… Like toilet box mixed with wet tiles. Something else was different, what was that? She felt, sort of… still. The shivering had stopped. She held one hand with the other. Warm. Then her tummy with both. Still warm.

  ‘Yes, well, maybe the other one is less active. That would make her less fatigued, a bit plumper, perhaps.’

  ‘And so less susceptible to getting sick like, well, Bonbon did.’

  ‘Exactly. Although they should have both had their humcoats in September, really.’

  Susan wrinkled up her forehead and looked at the shape of Bonbon underneath one white blanket and one green blanket in a tiny cot that stood on a table between herself and the doctor.

  ‘Did you… Have you had them for a long time?’

  ‘Seventeen months.’

  ‘Did you put coats on them last year?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did. It’s just that, they got a bit worn, and so this year I was hoping to get new coats and, well, time got the better of me… And I didn’t realize they could get outside until quite recently. It turns out that they’ve been climbing through the vacuum hatch. I should have realized with all the stuff they collect and bring in… I’ve been rather a bad mistress.’

  The doctor eyed Susan and smiled mimicking the same curve as the mask that hammocked her chin. ‘Gosh, I’ve seen worse cases than this.’ She let one hand flop at its wrist. ‘If there’s one thing that this job has taught me, it’s that people can be shitty. I’ve seen chopped off ears from “haircuts” gone wrong, I’ve seen mangled limbs from cat and dog attacks because all the “pets” are kept in the same room – can you imagine that? Deep bloody rings around the buttocks – which is actually quite common – from where owners tie them down to toilets while they go to work. I’ve dealt with some gruesome situations, this is nothing but a teensy cold.’ She gestured towards Bonbon.

  Susan stared, mouth open. ‘So, the ones that have been, erm, maltreated, what happens to them when they come here; do they get taken away from their owners?’

  ‘Depends. Sometimes, yes.’ She rubbed her temple with the back of her wrist and frowned at Bonbon. ‘Hmmm,’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’ Susan frowned in the same direction.

  ‘That ear could do with pinning.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ affirmed the doctor.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The one on the left.’ She put her hand in the cot and, with one finger, pushed Bonbon’s face so she was looking to the right. ‘You see?’

  Susan nodded then shook her head. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘It’s subtle. It will disrupt her balance, though.’ She withdrew her finger and Bonbon’s head snapped back to the centre. Bonbon showed her teeth. ‘Is she a bit wobbly on her feet?’

  Susan upside-down smiled and looked to the left shaking her head. ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Slow? I mean, not agile.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Clumsy?’

  ‘No. In fact, she’s very nimble.’

  ‘Grumpy?’

  Susan’s pupils snatched back to the centres of their eyes. ‘Yes! She can be really grumpy.’

  ‘Ah.’ The doctor flung a hand towards the sticky-out ear. ‘That’s what’s causing it.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yep,’ she nodded. ‘It might seem unimportant to you but,’ she took a ruler from her front pocket and bent towards the ear, ‘it makes a big difference to missy here. Can you imagine feeling constantly unsteady?’

  Susan frowned at Bonbon’s ear. ‘Can we do something about that?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ said the doctor. ‘It takes ten minutes, spray anaesthetic, no incisions; just a couple of stitches.’

  Bonbon sneezed.

  The doctor pulled her mask up over her mouth and pressed a button on the wall. ‘I’m going to need another blanket for my patient, please.’

  Susan jumped. A door whirred somewhere behind her. A woman came in with a small blanket, tilted her head and smiled at Bonbon, put the blanket on the table and left. The doctor tucked the blanket around the edges of Bonbon. ‘You really are quite chilly, aren’t you?’ Then she stood back with her hands on her hips and looked at Susan.

  ‘When can she have it done? The, erm, pinning.’

  ‘I’ll have to check with my secretary.’

  ‘Would she have to stay overnight?’

  ‘Usually, no. But given her condition… We wouldn’t want to take any risks with infection.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Would you like to go ahead with the procedure?’

  ‘If it’s the best thing for her…’

  * * *

  ‘Tell me, what is it? I’ve been so excited!’

  Watty smiled and dragged a round hat box into the door frame.

  ‘What is it?’

  The other snorted. ‘A toaster.’

  Drew eyed the box and frowned.

  Watty sighed th
rough half-closed eyes, then pronounced slowly: ‘Why don’t you come and have a listen?’

  ‘A listen?’ Drew jumped up from a large triangle-shaped beanbag on the floor in front of the fire, dropping some papers and showing off a woolly knee support; like a tree stripped of its bark, thought Watty. ‘Oh yes!’ And with movements so miniature, even when hurrying, that there couldn’t possibly be any sound – just a swish-swishing of one bandaged foot and one almost socked – Drew padded over to the box. A manipulator of physical laws, thought Watty, watching Drew shake off the loose sock. Even when shaking off loose socks, the energy triggered by the jolt of a shoulder blade would send the shoulder through little, tiny movements, all seriesed together like one of those spinning wheels with a flickery horse galloping around its inside; yes! That was it! The shoulder was flickered into going up and then down again, like slow motion, like little men were building up slices of shoulder until they really couldn’t reach any higher and so, piece by piece, they took it all down again. With one hand, Drew pulled aside the curtain that divided the studio. The little men worked on, building upwards, then down again, calling upon every member to build up its part into a crescendo, tympani drums boomed, the notes curled out of the curtain-pulling hand and flutes tinkled the hand back down to its side. All was still. Watty patted trouser pockets, breast pockets, the little zippy sleeve pocket and glanced about the floor. All of that would have to be written down later, especially the little men and the pieces of shoulder.

  ‘If you picked your feet up, you wouldn’t get splinters.’

  ‘Can’t get splinters with socks.’ And as if to prove this, Drew twirled on the ball of a foot, sending out ripples of music…

  ‘You’re not wearing any. You’re wearing a bandage and you just kicked the other sock off.’

  Drew picked up the non-bandaged foot and held it up at head height, then swivelled over, heel, ball, heel, ball, on the protected one, laughing.

  ‘You really must be careful when bending your knee like that… You know, I don’t think you’re switched on enough to deserve this present,’ Watty said. ‘If you bugger yourself up any more, you won’t be able to run after it.’

  The foot now back on the floor, and hands now on knees, Drew bent forward to put one ear to the box. ‘Run after it?’

  Damn. The cat’s, dog’s, nose was peeking out of the bag.

  ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘Maybe it can hear you and it’s silently worrying about its future.’

  Drew’s eyes gaped suddenly. ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘Say “Jas-per”,’ mouthed Watty.

  ‘Jaspa?’ queried the other.

  ‘WOOF!’ said the hatbox.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ Jumping backwards, hands on chest. ‘You did! You bought me a dog!’ Mouth corners climbed cheeks. ‘I don’t believe it!’ Tearing the lid from the hatbox.

  Short biscuit-coloured fur turned inside the box, glimmering golden and shadowing ecru. It jumped once, then again and knocked the whole box onto its side. A tongue dangled from black-lined lips as it ran towards Drew and black padded paws landed on the knee support.

  ‘He’s lovely! He’s beautiful! Yes, Jasper, you are so beautiful and you like being fussed, don’t you? Yes, you do…’ Looking up. ‘Is he really mine?’

  Crouching down. ‘I think he’s decided that you are his.’

  Jasper marched all over Drew, who was now lying flat to facilitate this; his tail seemed to become three tails, his nose explored the back of a leg or the hollow of a cheek. Then a bark. Then another.

  Drew looked up as Watty produced a plastic tube, opened it, and pulled out a wet wand with a gooey loop at one end. Watty blew. Five or six bubbles, each smaller than the one before, waddled out of the wand like a duck family.

  The biscuit-coloured legs skid, skid, skidded towards the duck-bubbles that seemed to want to land anywhere but into the mouth of the puppy. But more appeared. And more. And finally he got a big one that made him sit and blink and lick his own nose for a moment before barking for more.

  Drew, laughing, had rolled over to watch it, head shuddering between its shoulders, a ping-pong ball between two hairdryers.

  Watty took a deep breath. ‘Would you like to keep him…’

  ‘He mustn’t eat those bubbles, though, he’ll get stomach ache…’

  ‘Even if it means being a responsible adult, taking him for walks, picking up his poo…’

  Drew wiped at the puppy’s mouth with the fallen sock. ‘He’s staying. He’ll be my confidant when you’re all mean and grumpy.’

  Watty squatted in front of them. ‘Now, don’t get cross.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think we could be happy. The three of us. I think we should try to be just the three of us.’

  ‘—.’

  ‘Drew?’

  Jasper gnashed his teeth at each wipe of the sock.

  ‘I couldn’t let you keep him and then tell you why I’d bought him. Better to be honest from the off—’

  ‘Ow!’ said Drew, tapping the black nose before tickling the groove between Jasper’s eyebrows. ‘The thing is, I can’t give up on Isabel. Not at this stage in her development.’

  They sat for a moment, their faces angled towards the little bean-shaped being in the next room, suspended in its artificial womb.

  ‘Will you at least think about it?’

  ‘Apart from anything else, what would I do with her?’

  Watty’s eyebrows flicked up.

  ‘We’ve been through this.’ Drew clasped a golden ear in each hand. ‘I just couldn’t.’

  ‘Alright.’

  ‘Please don’t ask me that again.’

  ‘Alright.’ Watty reached forward and shook Jasper’s paw.

  ‘I just need some support,’ said Drew. ‘I know what I’ve done and how serious it is… But I’m not very sure about it.’

  ‘I know,’ said Watty. ‘I know you.’ Then: ‘Don’t worry, I’m here.’

  * * *

  Awake. Jinx stretched her arms out in front of her even before she opened her eyes. They couldn’t stretch very far as they were wrapped in the toasty warm thing that the She-one had given her. She hadn’t moved one tiny bit since she’d been wrapped up inside it.

  Sitting up straight, she reached behind her and scratched her shoulder; then, with her eyes still closed, she settled back into her slouchy position, like a fat pigeon.

  Bonbon! Her eyes pinged open and looked towards the angora cushion.

  The petals were gone. There was no blonde head sleeping at one end. ‘Bonbon?’ she called. No answer, maybe she was very asleep? Or had she been taken to a different room? Holding the warm thing around her, Jinx got up and swish-swished over to the angora cushion.

  Empty.

  She turned and looked at the door. ‘Kitchen,’ she said out loud, and shuffled towards the big-room door to cross the hall. If she was in the kitchen, she’d be in the basket. Oops! Jinx tripped on a corner of the scarf, shook her foot and carried on walking. And if she was in the basket, she’d probably be wrapped up in a long thing like Jinx was. Ah ha! The dining room! Jinx stopped at the dining-room door. It was open. It hadn’t been open earlier, could she be in there? It was always lovely and warm in there because of the nice carpet. She stepped inside. ‘Bonbon!’ she said. Nothing. ‘BONBON!’ she shouted. Nothing.

  Jinx’s mouth felt all dry. She wasn’t at all sleepy any more. Bonbon must be in the kitchen, she must be, she thought, hurrying towards the kitchen door. ‘Bonbon!’ she called, as she passed the food bowls. ‘Bonbon! Wake up now!’ Nearing the basket, she peeped over the edge. Empty. Empty! Well, where was she then? She glanced around. Yes! Toilet box! She swished over and looked inside. Nothing. Where could she be? She had to be in the dining room. That was the only other thing that had changed since she’d been asleep. Perhaps they had put her up on the table?

  Jinx made her way back. Her head felt big and poundy and her legs were all springy, but not a nice spri
ngy; she wondered if her feet would keep her up each time she put one of them down in front of her. Maybe they had things up on the table; things to make Bonbon better and so it was just easier to keep her on the table. With the things close by.

  Jinx’s ears thump, thump, thumped and her eyes were dry from looking about everywhere. Then she was there, at the dining-room door, but she couldn’t remember getting there and then couldn’t remember getting to the table but she was there and so shouted up at it: ‘BONBON!’ No answer. ‘BONBON!’ No answer. ‘BONBON!’ The table was black today. They’d changed its colour from see-through to black. She swish-swished underneath it deciding which chair to climb before choosing the one that was sticking out slightly, as if someone had been sitting there and had not put it back afterwards. Jinx dropped the scarf, stepped out of it, pulled herself up onto the chair and closed her eyes. Please be there, please be there, please be there…

  She squinted her eyes over the edge of the table, too frightened to open them fully. The table was all fuzzy from the squinting.

  But there was no Bonbon.

  ‘NO!’ she shouted. ‘NO!’ And she slumped back into her pigeon position, this time with no scarf. She was a naked pigeon. She shivered. Her face ached and went all bendy. Mustn’t do that. It makes Bonbon’s ears get hot. Oh! But Bonbon wasn’t there! She let herself cry. How could Bonbon’s ears get hot if she wasn’t even there? Jinx fell forward and cried into her knees.

  Ages later, Jinx was still folded into a flattened ‘Z’; one red eye was open and had stopped leaking. The other one was buried in her knee, closed and not yet needed. Her breathing had slowed down. Her mouth made the shape of Bonbon’s name. She could feel the stuff that the chair-top was made out of making lines in the fronts of her legs. She shivered and thought that she should really get down. But what for? There was nothing down there… And she only needed one eye to look out of the window.