The Land of Decoration

all the time I had a pain in my stomach thinking about Father, and though I was glad to get out of our house, I was more glad to get back.

He slept or sat with his eyes closed—in front of the grill, I wasn’t sure which. He didn’t say: “Don’t slam the door,” and didn’t say: “Are you playing with that food or eating it?” and didn’t notice when I was loud, which I was on purpose, just to test him. His eyes passed over things as if he didn’t recognize them. He went to bed at eight o’clock. When I came down in the mornings, he was still sleeping. All he did was get up to make tea or stare at the open mouth of the grill, with its black tongue and the black space crusted with char and the black elements, as if there was some great secret in there.

We ate potatoes and bacon or sausages every night. I cooked them, because Father said I could, and didn’t get them right once, but he didn’t notice. There was no more praying and no more reading the Bible and no more pondering, though I did enough pondering for both of us. On Sunday, Father took his eye patch off and began reading the newspaper, so after dinner I took away the plates, then fetched the Bibles. I said: “We’ve been forgetting.”

Father looked at the Bible for a few minutes, then sucked in breath through his nose, as if he was waking. He said quietly: “I can’t do this right now, Judith.”

I felt a flash of heat as though I was falling. “But it’s important!” I said. “It’s Sunday and we didn’t even go to the meeting! We haven’t done the study for ages!”

Father raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I can’t get my head round it at the moment, Judith.”

It made me feel terrified when he said that. I said: “What do you mean?”

“I just need … a bit of space.”

“Space?”

He sighed. “Sometimes things are too complicated for children to understand.”

“I can understand,” I said. “Tell me!”

But he got up and sat with his back to me.

“Well, I’m going to read,” I said. “I’ll read for both of us.”

Father said loudly: “I don’t need anyone to read to me!” I thought for a minute he was going to get angry, but the look left his face as quickly as it had come and he said: “I just need some peace.”

I did read, and it was all about the Nephilim and the flood and how God destroyed everything. Because it was such a long time since we’d done the reading I’d forgotten where we were and began reading wherever I opened the Bible, which happened to be Genesis, though the flood wasn’t a very good subject at all, and I wished I’d never started halfway through. I was glad—though astonished—when Father interrupted and said: “Do you fancy fish and chips?”

“What?” I said.

“I said, would you like some fish and chips?”

I wondered if this was some sort of test, but he kept looking at me, and he didn’t look like he was trying to trick me, he only looked incredibly tired.

“Yes,” I said at last.

We put on coats and walked through the rain down the hill to Corrini’s. It was the first time Father had been out of the house, and he kept pulling his coat collar higher and shivering.

He blinked beneath the lights in Corrini’s and people stared at him. He said: “Cod and chips please” and the woman dug into the metal tray, filled the cone, wrapped it, and said: “Three pounds.” She had to wait to use the till and while she was waiting, the man using it looked up at Father, then back down again.

Father bought four cans of beer from the package store and then we went home. I held the fish and chips in my arms, and the rustling and the smell and the weight of them were almost too much to bear. When we got in, I ate them from the paper so quickly that a lump formed in my chest, and I had to wait for it to go before I began again. The chips were fluffy and squidgy, and the fish fell apart in little moist flakes. The batter crunched and then it oozed. It was so delicious that tears came to my eyes.

Father didn’t tell me to slow down or get a plate or use a knife and fork. I was halfway through before I realized he wasn’t eating. I said: “D’you want some?”

“No, they’re for you,” he said.

But I suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore. “Look at this,” I said, and put two chips under my top lip and made an evil face. He took a sip from his can and smiled, then went back to looking at the grill. I wished he would tell me off for playing with my food.

I took the chips out of my mouth and looked down at the newspaper. I said: “Are you all right?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

There were lots of reasons why he might not be but none that seemed possible to talk about. “I don’t know,” I said. I looked at the clock. It was past ten o’clock; he hadn’t even realized it was bedtime.

“Look at the time!” I said.

“Oh yes.”

I stood up. “Thank you for the fish and chips.”

Still he didn’t look at me. “You’re welcome.”

I said: “I’d better go to bed, hadn’t I?”

“Good idea.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

I went to the door, but when I got there I laughed and turned round. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

Something flickered in his face. He said: “Of course I’m all right!” and looked almost like himself again.

“Oh, good,” I said, and I felt better than I had done all day.

Visitors

TWO DAYS BEFORE Christmas, Elsie and May came and tapped on the fence. I wouldn’t have heard them unless I had been in the garden, but it was sunny and I didn’t want to be inside.

“Cooeee!” May called.

“Hellooo!” called Elsie.

“Hey!” I shouted.

“Judith!” they cried. “Are you all right, my lovely?” They sounded a bit unsure; I forgot they hadn’t seen the fence.

“Yeah!” I said. “Hang on, I’ll get the key.”

“We missed you!” said Elsie.

“Hang on!” I said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Can I have the key?” I said to Father when I got into the kitchen. “Elsie and May are out the front.”

“Oh.” Father touched his eyes. Then he shook his head and said: “I can’t handle that at the moment.”

I stared at him. “It’s Elsie and May,” I said.

“I know who it is, and I said I can’t handle it. Just say I’m not well.”

I looked at him. “But you are,” I said suddenly. A white-hot light flashed on in my head. “You’re fine.”

Father said in a low voice: “I’m not going to argue with you: Tell them it’s very kind of them, but I don’t want to see anyone at the moment.”

I was breathing fast. “But we haven’t seen anybody for ages!” I said. My voice was shaking and it was getting too loud. “What if I want to see them? I live here too!”

Father jumped up from the chair. “I don’t want to see anyone at the moment, Judith, all right? I don’t want to see anyone!”

I stood there, then ran out of the room. In the hall I got my breath and wiped my face. Then I opened the front door and went to the fence and called to May and Elsie and said Father wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh dear … But are you all right, sweetheart?” they cooed.