by Jan Michael
Joshua stopped suddenly. Solomon bumped into him, and was about to wail when Robert glared at him. He stifled the cry, and had to make do with looking sulky.
Joshua had remembered what his father said about the carvings. He couldn’t take them to the convent, he thought unhappily. But where could he go? What else could he do with them? He started walking again, in the direction of the convent, but unsure of his final destination.
Their path took them along the sea front. When they reached the harbour, Joshua hesitated. Perhaps this was the answer. He turned down the track that led out to the jetty. Robert followed. The others dropped behind, losing interest, and began playing in the sand.
Joshua carried the box with its precious load to the end of the jetty, where the water was deep. Seaweed had come in on the tide and was trapped against the wooden pier. The weed smelled powerful and fishy in the hot sun and the water heaved under its weight.
Joshua stood looking out to sea, unmoving.
‘Why are we here, Josh?’ Robert said at last, breaking the silence. ‘Let’s go back.’
‘You go,’ Joshua said, looking at Robert, but not seeing him properly because there was a film of tears over his eyes.
‘I’m staying,’ retorted Robert, noticing the unshed tears. He didn’t want to leave Joshua like this.
Joshua began to take the animals out of the box.
‘What are you going to do with those?’ Robert asked. He remembered that Joshua had no home any more, nowhere to keep private things. ‘Let me look after them,’ he offered. He held out his hands.
Joshua handed him the empty box.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Robert protested.
‘I know you didn’t.’ A tear trickled down Joshua’s cheek. He held a carving in each hand and turned to face the open sea. He lifted the snake over his head and hissed, as if he was the snake himself.
‘Don’t!’ Robert cried, suddenly realising what Joshua was about to do.
Too late. The snake left Joshua’s hand. It rose in the air and spun a little, catching the sun. Then it fell, hitting the seaweed with a plop before dropping through to the water below. The seaweed closed over the hole.
Robert was stunned. He grabbed Joshua’s arm, the one holding the four-legged creature.
‘No! ‘I have to do it!’ Joshua cried, tears streaming down his face. ‘Dad told me to get rid of them, and I never did, so he died! Don’t you see?’
Robert let go. The four-legged creature fell through the air and landed on its back on the seaweed, its three good legs pointing skywards. A hole gaped, the seaweed heaved, and it too was gone; there was nothing to show where it had been.
They both stood, staring into the water. Joshua wiped the back of his hand over his face.
Robert, bewildered, was the first to turn away. Joshua watched him walk down the jetty, saw him speak to the others, then they scattered and went off, leaving him alone.
It was what he had wanted. Just the same, he wished they hadn’t gone.
Back at the convent he found Marius and Vincent and Catherine in a huddle in the playground. He went over to join them. Catherine looked up. ‘Go away,’ she told him.
‘Why?’ He peered over their shoulders, trying to see what it was they had on the ground. He circled round till he was behind Marius. ‘Let me in,’ he wheedled.
Marius looked back at him over his shoulder. ‘No,’ he said, shuffling closer to the others, closing a gap.
Joshua was taken aback. ‘Why not?’
‘Because this is to do with us. You wouldn’t understand,’ Catherine answered.
Joshua felt his face go hot. He turned and ran to the dormitory, grabbed hold of Pig and dragged him to the corner of the room furthest from the playground. He sat on the floor beside Pig and rested his aching head on the broad back. He could smell the oil in the wood. He closed his eyes.
‘Josh?’ He opened his eyes. Sister Martha was squatting beside him.
He smiled at her.
‘Are you all right?’
He nodded. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep.
‘Sure?’
He was, now. He felt fine.
‘Good.’ She got up. ‘In that case, outside with you. Go and find the others.’
He stood up. Sister Martha picked up Pig’s front legs. ‘Come on, I’ll help you take him back to your bed. And now, shoo. Go on, out you go.’
When he went outside, the others had disappeared. He didn’t want to go looking for them, not yet, they might ignore him again. Instead he wandered back to the shop. He trailed his fingers along the counter and on along the table till they came to the knife. He hesitated. His fingers moved towards it. He picked it up. The wooden handle rested easily in the palm of his hand. It was the knife his father had used to carve with.
He took it outside to the standpipe. He turned on the tap and let water stream on to the stone underneath. When he thought the stone was wet enough, he began sharpening the knife on it – back and forth in long strokes – till the edge showed clean and shiny. He hunted around the yard for a piece of wood but couldn’t find any he liked.
He went to the beach. No one was around; it was too early for the fishermen and their dragnet. The tideline was marked by a line of brown seaweed that had been abandoned by the receding waters. He walked along with his eyes down, looking for a suitable bit of driftwood, stamping on the seaweed bubbles to make them pop. He bent to pick up a long, forked strand, and there, beneath it, saw a promising piece of dark wood. He brought it a little way up the beach, sat down and began to whittle. It was a good feeling, rough wood, hot from the sun, in one hand, and the smooth knife handle in the other. Chips flew into the air and landed on his legs, tickling them.
‘Joshua!’
He looked up. Marius was running down the beach towards him. ‘Sister Martha says, do you want a drink?’
On the path behind Marius he saw the figure of the nun. He was surprised; he hadn’t realised that his wanderings had taken him so close to the convent.
As he got up, he slipped the knife underneath the wood so that it wouldn’t show. He wasn’t sure that knives would be allowed in their lockers.
‘Sister, Joshua was carving,’ Marius announced. ‘Look.’
Joshua half held out the wood then pulled it back. ‘I haven’t finished it.’
‘You’re not really from here, are you?’ Marius stated matter-of-factly.
‘Of course he is,’ Sister Martha corrected him sharply.
But Joshua felt uncomfortable under Marius’s stare.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the rubbish heap, the discarded skin of a melon heaved as two rats fought over it, squeaking loudly, dislodging rotting fruit and tin cans. One rolled down the heap and landed right at Joshua’s feet as he walked past. Robert hadn’t been at home when he’d called, nor Tom nor Millie. The tin was a welcome distraction. He kicked it away from the pile and dribbled it like a football, swerving to one side of the road and then to the other. He knocked it into an imaginary goal and raised his arms in the air in triumph.
A car hooted. He jumped and turned round. Cars were a rare sight in the village. This one had gleaming red paintwork and its engine purred like a well-fed cat. Joshua could see his face in its shiny bonnet. He reached out to stroke it.
‘Boo!’ Millie jumped out.
‘Millie!’ He stared at her and at the open door. ‘Were you in the car?’
She nodded, beaming with excitement. ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling at his arm. ‘It’s the tourists. They want you too.’
He scrambled into the back seat. The nearest he had ever got to riding in a car was a ramshackle old lorry used as a bus. He reached over and pulled the door shut.
The woman in the passenger seat turned round and smiled at him.
‘Isn’t it great, Josh?’ Millie was burbling. ‘They’re taking us to the Gola.’ She looked uncertain for a moment. ‘At least, I think that’s what they were saying. When I saw you I told
them to stop. Aren’t you glad, hey?’ She punched him playfully.
Joshua punched her back and she giggled.
‘All right, Marguerite?’ The man in the driver’s seat patted the woman’s knee and let off the handbrake.
Marguerite? Joshua looked closely at the couple, recognising the strange name. It was the same pair he’d met when he had carried their package from the craft shop.
The woman twisted in her seat again and looked at him. ‘Yoswa?’ she asked.
He nodded, more interested in the car than in her. The leather seat was hot under his thighs and it stuck to his bare skin. When he shifted, it released him with a soft, sucking sound. The smell was strong too: leather and petrol and metal all blended together.
He listened to the car engine throb as they moved off and hunched forward to watch the dials turning slowly on the dashboard as the man drove, not wanting to miss a second of it.
Millie turned round and knelt on the seat to look through the back window. After a while, Joshua joined her, but there wasn’t much to see: only swirling clouds of sand churned up in the wake of the car. The dials were far more interesting.
The car drew up outside the hotel.
‘You can get out now,’ the man said, gesturing, leaning back and opening Millie’s door.
‘Come on.’ The woman beckoned them to follow her as she headed for one of the tables outside the bar.
Millie flounced after them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Joshua held back.
‘What are you doing here?’ Oliver asked, appearing suddenly on the path beside him.
‘I’m with them,’ Joshua said doubtfully.
‘Pull the other one,’ Oliver laughed.
Joshua scowled and ran after the others. He pulled out a chair and slid on to it, leaving Oliver gawping.
Drinks were set before them.
‘We shouldn’t be here,’ Joshua said to Millie, uneasily aware of the disapproving glint in the barman’s eye.
‘Why shouldn’t we?’ retorted Millie, her chin jutting out. She smoothed her dress down over her knees and placed one hand over the stain on the skirt. She leaned forward and took a delicate sip from her glass.
Joshua nursed his glass in his hands as the woman was doing. The cold drink chilled his fingers and little rivulets of condensation ran down the sides of the glass. He stared down at it, not sure what to say now they were here. Even Millie had subsided into silence.
The man and woman exchanged few words too; they seemed content to observe the children.
The woman reached down for her handbag. From it she took an envelope and produced photographs which she spread out on the table in front of them. They showed a tall brick house with windows with glass in them that gleamed and looked at you like so many eyes.
She pointed to herself and the man and then at the house. ‘We live here,’ she said.
Millie and Joshua nodded, eyes wide.
‘This is our bedroom.’ She put her hands together at one side and rested her head on them, pretending to snore.
‘Bedroom.’ Joshua tried to repeat the foreign word.
The woman looked delighted. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘bedroom. Here’s another bedroom.’
It was painted blue and green and had one bed in it. Joshua stared. He picked up the photograph. There was a window and, outside it, the top of a tree. So the room was very high up, he thought wonderingly. Beyond the tree was a sloping red roof, not thatched like theirs, or made of concrete. The floor was covered in blue and there were high wooden head and tailboards to the bed, as high as on Old Mama Siska’s ancient bed which he’d once seen through the window, and a curving side which made it look like a boat. He saw books on the shelves, a bunch of flowers, and a clock on the windowsill. He gazed greedily at it, imagining himself in that bed, pretending the room was all his.
Millie nudged him. ‘Look,’ she said, awe written all over her face, ‘this is where they cook and eat, and this is another room.’ He saw the kitchen and the drawing-room, large places full of strange things. ‘What a big house,’ she breathed. ‘It’s like a hotel.’
Joshua noticed her smile extra sweetly at the woman when she was asked if she’d like another drink.
‘Where do you live?’ the man asked, pointing at Millie and then at Joshua.
‘At home,’ Millie said, ‘in Botelo.’
The man clearly understood the name of the village.
‘At the convent,’ Joshua said in turn.
This time the man looked puzzled, not recognising the word.
Joshua mimed a nun’s habit and put his hands together in prayer. Millie giggled.
‘Oh.’ The man’s face cleared. ‘The orphanage.’ He examined him with interest.
‘Orphanage,’ Joshua repeated, getting his tongue round the strange word.
‘You see? I said he was bright that first time, remember?’ the woman said to the man, the foreign words tumbling from her lips. ‘And what a stroke of luck that he’s an orphan! You don’t think – after all these years hoping …’ she sighed wistfully, leaving the words hanging in the air.
‘Oddly enough,’ the man said, ‘I thought I recognised his name when Reverend Mother discussed the children with us.’
They gazed thoughtfully at each other.
‘What are they saying, Josh?’ Millie asked.
‘How should I know?’ he retorted. He fidgeted under the strangers’ stare and picked up the photograph of the bedroom again.
The woman took off her sunglasses. ‘Would you like to sleep in that bedroom?’ she asked, pointing at Joshua and the bedroom, and again mimicking sleep.
‘Don’t rush him, dear,’ the man said, laying his hand on hers. ‘One step at a time.’
Joshua looked from one to the other, bewildered by what he thought the woman had meant. Millie, feeling ignored, began to pout. ‘Come on, Josh, let’s go.’ She got down from the chair. ‘Well, are you coming?’
He left his chair reluctantly, flashed a smile over his shoulder and followed Millie.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A lizard fell off the wall, landed on the ground and waited, absolutely still, checking that no one or nothing had noticed. Satisfied, it scurried into the shade at the base of the wall, its tail weaving to keep up with its tiny strong feet. A large splinter of wood blocked its path. The lizard’s tongue flickered. It went round the obstacle and continued along. Another chipping fell, right in front of the lizard. It froze.
‘Joshua!’
Joshua dropped the piece of driftwood and the whittling knife over the far side of the wall, just missing the lizard. ‘Yes, Sister?’
‘Father Peter wants you to serve at Mass,’ Sister Martha said, whisking him off to the chapel to find a surplice that fitted.
‘Can’t I sing?’ Joshua asked plaintively. ‘I’d rather sing.’ He quite enjoyed his short solos, even if Robert did tease him afterwards.
‘Not today. Today’s your turn to serve.’ Only the orphans served at school Mass. It was their privilege.
‘But I’ve never done it before.’
‘There’s always a first time,’ she said, taking down the starched cotton garment from the shelf.
‘I don’t know what to do.’
The nun looked at him in mock fury. ‘And how many times have you been to Mass, young man?’ she scolded. ‘Of course you know what to do.’ She pulled the white surplice down over his head, plucking at its folds to get it to hang right. ‘Anyway, I’ll be nearby in case you need me.’
Joshua wriggled inside the surplice. The white sleeves fell below his elbows and felt awkward, and the starched cloth itched at his neck. But once the school came filing in and silence fell in the chapel and the Mass began, he forgot the discomfort. He became caught up in the prayers and the words, in the light and burning wax from the tall candles banked high on the altar, and he remembered at which point he had to kneel and stand and bow.
‘Lift up your hearts,’ the priest intoned.
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br /> ‘We lift them up to the Lord,’ he responded along with the others. He had the brass bell in his hand and watched the priest, concentrating. Father Peter spread his hands over the holy wine in the chalice and Joshua rang the bell, once, twice.
As he filed out behind the priest at the end of Mass he glanced at Sister Martha and she nodded her approval. He cast down his eyes and tried to look solemn going down the aisle. At the last row of seats his eyes fell on two pairs of large feet in shoes, one with laces, the other high and strapped, with painted toenails peeping through. He gazed up from the feet in astonishment. It was the tourist couple again. The woman smiled warmly at him and he smiled back. Then, remembering himself, he bowed his head once more and followed the priest into the vestry to disrobe.
When he came out they were gone. In a few minutes, lessons would start. He ran out to the playground and retrieved his knife and the wood from behind the wall. He looked around for a better hiding place.
‘What are those?’
He jumped. He hadn’t heard Robert approach.
He put the knife behind his back.
‘Let’s see,’ Robert coaxed.
‘No. It’s secret,’ Joshua said stiffly.
The bell for lessons clanged, distracting Joshua. Robert grabbed the wood and knife from him.
Joshua didn’t try to take them back. There didn’t seem much point. His hands dangled at his side.
Robert examined the piece of wood. He ran a finger over the head that was beginning to appear and down over the back that Joshua had rounded and smoothed. ‘Oh,’ he said tonelessly. He stared at Joshua, then held out the wood and knife. ‘Here.’
Joshua took them.
Their eyes locked. Robert was the first to look away. ‘Hide them,’ he said, his voice cool and distant. ‘Don’t let the others know you’re carving. Try under that stone over there.’ He turned on his heel.
Joshua hurried over to the stone and lifted it. There was a hollow in the ground beneath. He put the wood and knife in there, replaced the stone and ran to catch up with Robert.