Hymn From A Village (7 page)

He thought about the back of the van. Couldn’t bear to imagine what it would be like in there now. He reached for the flask in his pocket to change the record his mind was playing. If he was pulled over, drink-driving would be the least of his worries.

when the pie was opened, the birds began to sing

wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king.

“Ready Danny?” Ralph asked. He wasn’t but he nodded his head, pulled out the wall of ply and stepped back real quick.

Ralph and his mate turned the nozzles on the hoses and the water gushed into the van.

The girls huddled together, crossing their arms over their bodies to maintain what was left of their dignity. The feisty one stared back at them like they should be worried.

“Get laid?” Ralph shouted over the roar of the water and the high-pitched squeals of the girls.

“Too young,” Danny said. Ralph was sick. This lot were just girls. Danny turned his back and went off for a smoke and another sip from the flask.

the king was in his counting house counting out his money

Charlie Wren looked out of the window at the top of the tower.

Done well for himself, the lad. A mansion overlooking Sefton Park. Two gardeners, a chauffeur, a cook and a maid, not to mention a collection of Everton Football Club memorabilia that’s second to none.

All built on the blood of Africa, just like the city.

Danny could see him through the leaded glass. His big belly spilled out over the towel around his waist. In one hand he gripped the stub of a cigar, in the other a wad of cash.

“Clean ‘em up good,” he shouted down. “Don’t want to be catching nothing from the merchandise.”

Danny didn’t want to be around when the boss checked them out, jabbing his fingers into places they had no right to enter. “That’s enough,” he told Ralph and headed inside.

the queen was in her parlour, eating bread and honey.

Soon as he saw Jenny walking down the stairs, he got a hard on.

Driving long distances could do that to a man, nothing to think about but football and sex.

Helped that she looked good, skin glowing and skirt as tight as a condom on an elephant.

When she saw him she put a little extra into the sway of her hips.

The sultry smile on her lips expanded into a big grin and she dropped the plate she’d been carrying onto the floor. Three bounds and she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his hips.

She sucked hard at his mouth.

“Drinking already,” she said.

“Celebrating. Where’s your mum?”

“I’ve just taken up her toast. She’s still in bed.” How the other half lived.

“You getting ideas?”

“I’ve been having ideas all the way from Dover,” he said and walked her into the downstairs bathroom.

Locking the door behind him, he fumbled at her buttons while she pulled madly at his fly.

the maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes

“Danny.” Charlie Wren wasn’t far away. “Danny.”

Having her father looking for him made it all the more intense. He pounded harder and quicker till he was done. Jenny bit into his shoulder to suppress the sounds of her joy.

The two of them collapsed into silent laughter and they straightened out their clothes before sneaking out.

“Danny.” The voice was coming from the conservatory.

“Yes boss.”

“I’m ready,” he said.

Danny and Charlie headed out to the van where Ralph was supervising the merchandise, twenty-four girls sorting through a pile of clean clothes of assorted styles and sizes.

“You did good,” Charlie said as he looked over at his maid sorting out the laundry on the lawn.

It was an open secret about Charlie and Lucy. He’d spent a fortune on surgery turning her into the woman of his dreams.

With breasts that size Danny wondered how she managed to stay upright.

Ralph arranged the girls into a neat line, tallest to shortest, and Charlie went to introduce himself.

There was a routine to it all. He’d shake hands, tell them to open their mouths and do a little twirl. Next he’d let his hands wander and decide where to send them.

While he was at it, Jenny walked into the garden innocent as you like. Paid no attention to what was going on and went straight over to help with the washing.

She knew damn well what their maid and her dad got up to in the laundry room. Kept it to herself in case she could use it to her advantage one day.

It was nice for Danny to have something else to look at while Charlie prodded and poked, but he couldn’t help turning back to see what he was up to.

He was half way through. Had reached the feisty one. Maybe Danny should have warned him.

She was turning into a woman alright, her hips accentuated in a newish pair of jeans.

Charlie’s put his hand up into her armpit. Let his thumb rub at the buds protruding from her chest. Slid his palm down her waist and then along the curves.

A ball of spit she’d been saving flew from her mouth and landed in Charlie’s eye.

He pulled his hand back and went for the slap, but he was too slow.

The girl ducked and ran.

There was nothing anyone could do, but she was never going to get away. Probably knew that all along.

Straight for the maid she went. Pounced like a lioness. Had her down in one movement.

when down flew a blackbird and pecked off her nose.

She had her teeth around the poor maid’s nose like it she was born to such a thing. Her head from side to side like she was watching a pulsating tennis game.

When she straightened up there was a lump of flesh in her mouth. It was small, but she was smiling like it was the biggest prize of all.

Ralph got to her first. Dragged her off by the arms.

Charlie was next. Gave her such a kick in her belly that the nose spilled free from her jaws. It lay there in the grass like an end of raw sausage.

hearing the commotion, little Jenny Wren,

came down into the garden and put it back again.

The maid stayed down like a boxer taking the eight, her mouth hanging open and trying to scream.

Jenny reacted first. Picked up the tip of the nose and pressed it back where it was supposed to be, connecting it to the blood supply as if everything might be right as rain.

Ignoring his bit on the side, Charlie followed Ralph as he dragged the girl away.

Didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to see what her future held.

Danny saw the look of satisfaction in her face. Wished he’d taken her under his wing. Sent her home and given her a chance, the chance she’d given her friends - twenty three girls sprinting in different directions towards the perimeter hedge, hoping to find their land of milk and honey.

M
um always speaks in Gaelic when we come up to Skye. She speaks in Gaelic because that’s what Gran likes to use in the house. I can’t join in when they’re talking, but I understand some of the things they say. Mum thinks that I might go to school here soon and they’ll teach me, only I want to stay at my other school with my friends.

Skye’s an island so you have to go over a bridge to get there. Davy told me it was a troll bridge and that some people didn’t want to pay, but I said I would because you wouldn’t want to make them angry like in Billy Goat’s Gruff.

It’s always dark when we arrive. When we step out of the car we can see how this place gets its name; all you can see for miles and miles are millions of shining stars. Maybe they put an ‘e’ on the end it’s so stretched out. In London the heavens seems so small. There are always buildings in the way.

This time the journey had been awful. We packed in more than usual because Mum thought we might stay longer. I got wedged up against suitcases and dresses and stuff. Davy was fine though; he got to sit in the front where Dad usually went because Dad wasn’t coming this time.

And we didn’t get to play any of our usual games like I-Spy or making words from registration plates.

Davy said that Dad always had a map in case we got lost. Mum told him that she didn’t need maps; she was a human compass. Then she didn’t say anything for the rest of the journey.

Lots of things are different here. Some are better and some aren’t. It’s wonderful wandering around in fields and woods, but it’s not so much fun walking to the shops and back, especially the back part. I love swimming in the sea and paddling, but I’m not so keen on taking a bath in the old tin thing we fill with buckets. I love the way Gran gets us quiet for the weather forecast every evening, but I miss the television and my computer.

It was even more different when Mum was young. There wasn’t a road, the toilet was outside, the washing was done by hand, things like that. Mum said that the only things that hadn’t changed were Gran’s tabard and the weather.

Whatever time we get up Gran’s always ready with a pan or two frying. We have a big cooked breakfast “to keep the wind out,” Gran says, and we go out and explore. When we get back we wash our hands and by the time we get into to the kitchen there’s a plate of fresh scones on the table and a jug of milk from Nancy the cow, all warm and creamy.

We explore a bit more and it’s lunch, then dinner, then supper for the weather forecast, and in the evenings we listen to stories. I think some of them are true because they have real people in them and some are made up because they’ve got fairies and giants in them.

Mum’s the best storyteller though. Perhaps that’s because she reads so much. She was reading when we were down by the sea last week -  ‘A Perfect Day For Banana Fish’. She’s been reading that lots recently; it must be her favourite.

Thinking about banana fish makes me laugh because I start to think of other fish: orange, grapefruit, kiwi, potato...  Maybe there’s a pineapple shark out there too. The one I like best of all is the onion fish. It’s always crying, even if fish can’t cry, not really.

When she finished it she put the book face down on the rock, pulled her knees to her chest and held them there, “giving herself a hug,” she said. She didn’t move for a long time, staring out over the water into the distance; perhaps that’s what distant means. I played with Davy till it began to get chilly and went for a cuddle to warm up. This was a safe place. Old Man’s Jaw it’s called. If you stand on top of the hill behind you can see the face and this long, flat rock sticking out. I’ve seen it in a photo at home, Mum pointing across the bay to where she was born. She had one more story for me that day, about how I was made in that very place almost eight years ago. This is where I started out as a tiny seed.

“Just look at you now,” she whispered and I wondered how big I’d been when I began and how big I’ll be in the end.

A few days after that we went out to collect peat. A tractor came along and we all helped to load the trailer. The midgies kept biting everyone so we put on this cream to keep them away. It’s for moisturising the skin really and smells like perfume, so it’s not for the midgies at all, but they didn’t come near me after that. Uncle Tam’s hands were green from the string by the time we’d finished and Bob had a bad back. The children got to sit on the trailer all the way home, and we piled into the kitchen when it was unloaded for cakes and biscuits or whatever you wanted.

Most of us went for a walk after that. We turned round when the dark clouds started rolling in and got back just before the storm. I don’t know how she’d managed, but Gran had moved all the peat into the shed by then. The stacks in front of all the other houses were getting soaked through and Uncle Tam was struggling with a tarpaulin in the gale and the gale was winning.

“He’s only himself to blame, now. They said the rain would be coming,” said Gran shaking her head, wiping her hands on her apron and putting on the kettle. We all had tea to warm up our hands, which made Davy and me feel very grown-up. We watched the flames thinking about how much we deserved to be cosy, especially me with my blister and Tam with his green skin.

Then yesterday happened.

Gran took off her tabard and put on her wellies so that she could take me and Davy to the shore. Mum couldn’t make it. She stayed in bed because of a headache. She kissed us goodbye and said she’d join us later, and reminded me to look out for the banana fish.

It took about twenty minutes to get there.

There were lots of people with bags so they could tidy up the beach. For the children it was going to be a competition. Whoever collected the most rubbish would get to light the bonfire later. Second prize was a toffee apple.

We put on our huge rubber gloves, took a handful of bags and walked over to where no one else seemed to be. Uncle Tam was just over the way collecting whelks. He’d sell them later on and said he’d make a pretty penny.

I found the rusty bit of an old spade, a plastic bottle, a long metal stick and a burst football. Davy spent most of his time digging a piece of rope from the sand. It looked small at first, but the more he dug, the longer it got. In the end it filled up half the bag. Daddy was always asking how long a piece of string is when we asked him things; I didn’t think it would be that long. Gran had sawn off a gill net from the post in the water using the blade of her penknife and that filled the bag. Just think of all the birds we were saving and how nice it would be for all the walkers to see it so wonderfully clean.

We started another bag. The first thing we found was an old bike tyre. Davy was trying to stuff it in when it went all quiet; he stopped what he was doing. This is the bit I don’t want to say because it sounds stupid, but you can ask Davy and Gran if you like. I couldn’t hear the sea or the birds and it was creepy, then there was music, soft at first, then louder and louder. It was like a choir in church. It was all high voices and ladies singing and it was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. There weren’t any words, just tunes. Davy held my hand tightly and then the sound was suddenly the wind again. Just like that.

We looked at each other then sprinted over to Gran. Davy was first and grabbed onto one leg, and I got the other. He was telling her about the music and I joined in until she couldn’t tell who was saying what, so we had to start again one at a time. He’d heard the same as me.