by the back of his sweater. I was so surprised I just stood there. Father hadn’t told me about any of that.
I went to the top of the road and looked down the hill to the factory and I saw how strange it was really, like a sleeping beast, a black thing with funnels and towers and ladders and pipes and above it these huge clouds of smoke like clouds of breath. And somewhere inside it was Father.
THE BOYS KNOCKED every night, but Father no longer went outside. There were more boys than I had seen before, the big boys, about four or five of them, and there was Neil in the midst of them, spitting and swearing and riding on the others’ backs. Father phoned the police, but by the time they arrived the boys had ridden away. It became a game with them to scarper down the backstreets as soon as they heard the cars. The police found nobody, we went to bed, the boys came back, and it all began again.
On Thursday night something different happened. There wasn’t any knocking, just a flip of the letter box. Father waited a minute, then went into the hall. He was standing by the door with a piece of paper in his hands.
“What’s that?” I said.
Father’s face was blank. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing.”
“Is it a note from the boys?” I said.
Then Father said: “Judith. Please.” As if he was hurt, as if I was hurting him. He had never spoken to me like that before, and I went back to the kitchen.
“I’d like you to send up a car,” I heard him say. “They are still here…. Yes … I can’t say over the phone.” He was silent for a minute. When he spoke again it was quieter. He said: “Let me tell you, you are making a big mistake…. Yes … I certainly will. I’ll bring it down first thing.”
“You’re taking that note to the police station?” I said when he came back into the kitchen.
“Judith, I would prefer it if you didn’t listen when I’m talking on the phone.” He threw some more coal in the Rayburn, then shut the door firmly and said: “From now on I don’t want you walking to school the back way anymore; go along the main road, all right? And don’t go out of the playground at lunchtime.”
“OK,” I said.
“And keep out of that boy’s way. He’s not a nice individual. I’m going to speak to the school tomorrow; if the police can’t do anything, maybe they can.”
“Really?” I said. I began to feel sick.
“Yes,” he said. “This has to stop.”
We were sitting by the Rayburn a few minutes later when something hit the front door hard. There were shouts. The voices sounded older than Neil and Lee’s, and there was laughter. There was another blow to the door and we heard the bushes crash in the front garden. Father cleared his throat once, sharply, and it sounded to me as if he couldn’t get his breath.
We were both very still as the noises went on and the air around us seemed to be getting thinner and more difficult to breathe. It went on, and on. And on. I didn’t understand how noises could paralyze you, but that’s what they were doing. I wanted to move more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but I couldn’t. Father’s skin looked as if someone was tightening it at the sides of his head. Suddenly he jumped up and went to the dresser. He took down the Bible, opened it, and handed it to me. “Read it,” he said.
“What?”
“Read.”
“Where from?”
“Anywhere.”
When I still looked at him, he said: “Go on!”
“Louder,” Father said.
“Louder!”
But my throat ached as if it was in a vice. Father snatched the Bible and began reading himself. He held the book away from him and read in a clear voice with his chin raised. He read till the hall clock chimed nine, through the laughter and voices outside, and I kept my head bowed.
A police car arrived again just after nine, but Father hadn’t called it this time. I wondered who had and thought perhaps it was Mrs. Pew or Mr. Neasdon.
Father told me to sleep in the middle bedroom and I didn’t ask why. He took a long time coming up, and when he did I heard him slide the bolt home on the front door and drag something heavy across it.
The Sixth Miracle
I DON’T KNOW if Father phoned the school or not, but in the middle of our math lesson on Friday Mr. Williams came to talk to Mrs. Pierce and they went out of the classroom; after a minute they came back in and Mrs. Pierce said: “Neil, Mr. Williams wants to talk to you.” Neil flushed dark red, and followed Mr. Williams out of the room. After ten minutes Gareth and Lee were called out too. Neil didn’t come back to class, but Gareth and Lee did, and they were pale and quiet.
I asked Mrs. Pierce if I could go to the toilet, and she looked at me sharply and said: “Are you all right?” I nodded. In the toilet I thought I was going to be sick, but in the end I wasn’t. I just sat on the floor by the bowl, leaning my head against the tiles.
I could feel Mrs. Pierce watching me for the rest of the day, and at home time she said: “I know things are difficult right now, Judith. We are going to support you and your father. I want you to know that. We are going to see that this sort of thing stops.”
LATE THAT NIGHT a voice woke me. Father was pulling back the blankets and saying: “Get up quickly, Judith.”
“Is it Armageddon?” I said.
“No, it’s a fire.”
“The Land of Decoration!” I said. And though a few days ago I had thought it was stupid, I realized I wanted it very much indeed.
“Just put your dressing gown on.”
Father took my hand and we ran along the landing and down the stairs. “The Land of Decoration!” I said again. “Let me get it! Please! Let me put part of it in a bag!” I was afraid I was going to cry, though I knew how much Father hated it.
He said: “The fire won’t get to your room, Judith; the firemen are on their way.”
We held our sleeves over our faces at the bottom of the stairs, because smoke was coming from underneath the front-room door, then went through the hall into the kitchen and the back garden.
Mrs. Pew was standing by her back door in dressing gown and hairnet. She didn’t have her lipstick on or the white stuff on her face, and she looked almost normal except for the wobbling. She was fiddling with her hearing aid calling: “Are you all right?”
Father said: “We’re fine. But could Judith stay with you for the time being?”
Mrs. Pew said: “Of course!” and held out her hand, and he told me to go with her.
Mrs. Pew made me hot chocolate and I sat at her breakfast bar and tried to see through the window into our back garden while Oscar sat on the windowsill, grumpy at being woken and flicking his tail. “A dreadful business,” Mrs. Pew said. “Truly dreadful. I’m always worried that a fire will start in this house. So far, thank the Lord, I haven’t had one.”
