Heaven Eyes (12 page)

Heaven leaned on me and wept into her webbed hands. January winked.

“But when they’re both out, eh?” he whispered.

I glared back at him, but I knew that I wanted to open the boxes and the drawer just as much as he did.

We sat down against the wall. I fed Heaven orange creams. I whispered that January would never never do those things again. I took Squeak from my pocket. I passed him to her. She watched as he tumbled through her fingers. She calmed down.

“You’s so nice, Erin,” she whispered. She nuzzled against me. “And Janry Carr’s so nasty sometime.”

Soon we heard footsteps crossing the printing floor. Grampa and Mouse came in, Grampa in his shorts,
Mouse in his underclothes. They were soaked, water was running from them. Mouse’s eyed blazed with joy.

“Magic!” he said. “Magic!”

He knelt on the floor, opened his hands, spilled out a little heap of discoveries. There were blue pebbles, the skull of a tiny animal, a coin, a red cup handle, a green plastic bowl.

“See?” he said. “There must be so much there in that mud just waiting to be found.”

Grampa carried his bucket to the desk. He laid his discoveries on the table. He put his clothes back on.

“We dug,” said Mouse. “We dug and dug. I felt like I could go on digging to the middle of the world. Then the river started coming back again. We got washed in the Ouseburn.” He stared up at Grampa. “The things he must have found!” he whispered.

Heaven Eyes stood with her arm around Grampa. She watched him with pride.

“Tuesday,” said Grampa as he wrote. “Or some other day. Discoveries, several. Pie tins, one, rusted. One penny. Umpteen pop bottles, plastic. One hammer, minus handle. Two fishhooks, large and small. Objects slung into the river, many. Jewelry, none. Riches, none. Treasure, none. Helpers, one …”

“That’s Mouse,” said Heaven.

She beamed at us.

“That’s my friend Mouse, Grampa. That’s who your little helper is.”

“Name Mouse,” muttered Grampa as he wrote.

He turned his head and looked at Mouse as if amazed to see him there.

He wrote again.

“One helper come out of the night, come out of the black Black Middens to help in the digging and the search for Heaven’s treasures.”

“He will help you every night,” said Heaven.

Grampa pondered; then he wrote again.

“NB. Memory this, Grampa. This helper must have bucket, one, boots, two.”

Heaven Eyes gasped.

“Bucket and boots, Mouse! Grampa must be much much happy with you helping.”

I
T WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT NIGHT
that we were all woken by Grampa.

“Ghosts!” he called. “Ghosts! Ghosts!”

We sat up from our beds on the floor.

Grampa was standing by the shelves. He held a broken bird’s wing in his hand. There was a broken bottle on the floor at his feet.

Heaven rushed to him.

“There has been ghosts in here, little Heaven,” he said.

He pointed to the shoeprint in the black dust on the shelves. I trembled. It was the unmistakable mark of Jan’s running-away sneakers. Grampa stared up at the closed boxes by the ceiling. He tried to climb the shelves but he was unsteady and he tumbled down again.

His face was red and strained.

“Nobody’s been,” I whispered.

He stared, as if he stared right through me.

“Ghosts!” he whispered.

Heaven trembled. She gripped his arm with her webbed fingers.

January rose and came to us.

“Nobody’s been,” he said.

Grampa looked down at Mouse.

“You is my Little Helper?” he said.

“Yes,” said Heaven. “Yes, he is your Little Helper.”

Tears were trickling down her cheeks.

“Climb,” said Grampa. “Go up where them boxes are. Check them isn’t opened, Little Helper.”

Mouse rubbed the sleep from his eyes and started to climb. I stood beneath him, ready to catch him if he fell. He reached the top shelf.

“Is them boxes tight?” said Grampa.

Mouse stretched, shaking the lids of the boxes one by one.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is them ropes and belts still fastened tight?”

“Yes.”

Grampa sighed.

“Come on down, then,” he whispered.

His eyes were red-rimmed. He stared at the footprint. He scratched his beard and the black dust fell
from it. He looked old, old. He held Heaven against him.

“See?” she whispered.

He pointed to the footprint. She reached out and swept it away with her fingers.

“Is nothing,” she whispered, and her voice was shaking.

He licked his lips, lost in the mystery.

“Is nothing,” Heaven said again. “You is having sleep thoughts and imaginings, Grampa.”

“There is been no ghosts?” he said.

“There is been no ghosts, Grampa.”

She led him back to his desk. He sat there gazing into nothingness while she stroked his head. Then he lifted his pencil and started scribbling again.

Heaven Eyes lay down beside me and wept.

I stroked her hair.

“It’ll be all right,” I said.

“No, Erin. Never no.”

She twisted and turned for hours, unable to sleep.

“That Janry Carr!” she whispered. “That Janry Carr! He has got me telling fibs and lies and wrongness. Oh, Erin. Oh, my sister Erin Law.”

T
HE BOOTS WERE DRIED OUT AND TWISTED
. Massive toecaps stuck out way beyond his toes. The tops came almost to his knees. Grampa lashed them around Mouse’s calves with string. The shorts were navy blue and hung on Mouse’s body like a dress. The shovel had a thick bleached timber handle and a rusted blade. Mouse stood before us blinking. His body was pale, skinny and bony. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and pride. Squeak crouched at his feet, looked up at him and squeaked.

Heaven clapped her hands with joy.

“Oh Mouse! Oh little lovely Mouse! How lovely you does look!”

She gazed into my eyes.

“Tell him, Erin! Tell him how lovely him does look!”

I straightened my face.

“Yes,” I said. “You look lovely, Mouse.”

Grampa stood at a distance and pondered.

“You does look fine, Little Helper,” he said. “Your bucket is at the door next to mine. Tonight we will go out digging and treasuring.”

“Okay, Grampa,” said Mouse.

He raised his hand to his brow, like a salute.

Heaven giggled.

“Did you hear? Did you hear? ‘Okay, Grampa.’ Just like a proper helper. Oh, Mouse. We is that proud of you! Now we will get that treasure even faster!”

She popped a chocolate cream into her mouth and skipped around the room. Grampa put his helmet on. He fastened his jacket tight. Heaven calmed herself.

“Time for patrolling, Grampa,” she said.

“Time for patrolling.”

He looked up at the shelves, at the boxes by the ceiling. He leaned close to the shelf where the footprint had been. He pondered.

He took a key from his pocket and opened the drawer in his desk. He took out the carving knife.

“We must be careful, Heaven Eyes,” he said.

“Yes, Grampa. We must be careful as careful.”

She made a face at January as Grampa wrapped the knife in a cloth and angled it down into his jacket pocket.

Grampa locked the drawer again. He kissed Heaven
Eyes. He saluted Mouse. He looked through January and me like we weren’t there. Then he stepped out into the printing works.

“Get those stupid things off, Mouse,” said January.

Mouse blinked and blushed. He leaned the shovel against the wall and lifted his clothes from the bed.

Heaven shook her head sadly.

“Let’s go wandering and talking about mums and dads and treasures, Erin,” she whispered.

“Okay,” I said.

I glared at January. I pointed at him.

“Don’t do it again,” I said.

He winked. He spoke like Heaven Eyes.

“As if I would, Erin, my bestest bestest friend.”

He sighed.

“Anyway, I’m starving.”

“There is chocolates an corned beef,” said Heaven Eyes.

“Chocolates and corned beef!”

He went to the door.

“I’ll see what else there is, eh?”

“Be careful,” I said.

“Careful!”

“Remember the knife.”

He grinned and patted his pocket, where his own knife rested. He strolled out into the printing works. Heaven shook her head sadly. She shook my hand.

“That Janry Carr,” she whispered.

Then her face brightened again.

“Come on, Erin. Come and tell me all those funny tales about mums and dads.”

We sat together in the doorway again and leaned against each other. We talked of these great mysteries while Grampa patrolled and Jan plundered and Mouse played and whispered to little Squeak.

Jan returned, ages later, with a box in his arms. He dropped it onto the ground in front of us. It was filled with food and drink: tins of beans and peas and fruit; packets of cookies; tomato ketchup; boxes of dried milk; cereals; cans of Coke; jars of coffee; packets of tea.

“It’s like a bloody treasure-house out there!” he laughed.

Heaven stared wide-eyed with her hands against her face.

Jan shoved a bar of fruit-and-nut chocolate into my hand. He ripped open a packet of Hob Nobs and held it toward Heaven.

“Go on,” he said. “Take one.”

“These things is to last for long long long, Janry Carr,” she said.

“And they will! You could feed an army with what’s out there.”

“And there is great joy in knowing that there is boxes waiting forever to be opened.”

“Great joy! Go on, take one. Take one.”

She chewed her lips.

“And what will Grampa say?”

“Grampa!”

He shoved a cookie into his mouth and chewed. He sighed with pleasure. She reached out and touched the packet.

“Grampa will know nothing,” whispered Jan. “Take one. Go on, be a devil.”

She leaned on me as she reached out and took one, as she lifted it to her mouth and began to nibble.

“Nice?” I said.

“Mmm. Nice as nice.”

She looked down into the box.

“We must hide these things,” she said. “They will angry Grampa.”

“Where could we hide them?” said Jan.

She pointed to one of the biggest printing machines.

“Mebbe in the darkness under there,” she said. “He will not eye them.”

Jan scuttled across the floor with the box. He crouched and shoved it into the darkness. He grinned back at us.

“Good idea, Heaven Eyes,” he said.

Heaven chewed her lips. She leaned on me.

“I is getting bad,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” I said.

Jan winked at her.

She looked sideways at me, and blushed.

N
IGHT
. The moon shone down. Music blared from distant Norton Quay. We lay together on the broken ground, gazing down to the Black Middens. January was somewhere in the shadows behind us. Mouse and Grampa splashed together across the mud. Mouse slithered and stumbled in his new boots. He dragged his heavy bucket and shovel behind him.

“You must be that proud,” said Heaven Eyes. “Your friend Mouse as Grampa’s Little Helper.”