About Matilda (27 page)

The walk back through the fields clears our heads. In the caravan we fill empty milk bottles with water and make banana sandwiches to go with the ham slices. Who knows how long it'll be before a ship finds us. We wait at the table in the glow of the candle and the smell of melting wax for Mona and Sheamie. Pippa is frightened Daddy will come home first and make her sleep with him and I tell her he won't. Pippa says he will. She tries to puff on her inhaler but frets so much I have to hold it to her mouth and squeeze when she breathes. She heard Daddy telling Mona it's in the Bible that girls sleep with their fathers.

You're freakin' me out, Pippa.

I heard him. It was all begettin' and begattin', but I knew what he meant.

I know it's a sin but I close my eyes and thank God Pippa is older than me. I hope my father knows it too.

Danny falls asleep on his bunk. Pippa covers him with a blanket and lays his head on a pillow and sits back at the table. We look out the window but there's only darkness. My eyelids are heavy and it's hard to stay awake when all I want to do is crawl into a soft bed with cool white sheets.

The flame is flickering close to the saucer when Sheamie stumbles in the door. His face is black and his knees covered in mud. He points a finger at us and tries to talk but staggers backward and collapses in a heap on the floor. We push him, shove him, kick him, shout at him, Where's Mona? But all we get back is a heavy snore, a fart and a smell of beer.

Now we have to sit and worry over Mona. I strike a match and light another candle. The sleep is gone from me. I just want this night over. I just want to escape and never worry like this again.

Soon the first birds are chirping from the treetops and the darkness is melting in the morning light. It's bright enough in the caravan to snuff out the candle but the flickering flame gives Pippa and me something to stare at.

We both leap from our chairs when we hear footsteps running towards the caravan. Pippa closes her eyes and I know she's praying that it's not our father. It's Mona. Her blouse is ripped down the front and her legs bloody and scrawled with fingernails. She's standing at the door yelling, Daddy told me to go with him. Daddy made me. Pippa and me chase after her when she runs out of the caravan heading for the cliff.

She stops at the cliff edge not far from the caravan. She's looking down and holding her hands by her side like she's standing on a diving board. I hear the ocean four storeys below us smashing against the rocks lifting sea spray into the air. Pippa goes to one side of Mona and me the other. We tiptoe towards her through the long grass in our bare feet till we're only a few feet away.

He made me go. Daddy made me.

Come back, Mona. Come on. Please, just come inside.

Mona lets out a scream that echoes all over Clew Bay and mountains yonder. Trees shake with the clashing of wings and it's like every bird in Clew Bay has taken to the pink morning sky. Pippa puts her finger to her temples as if to say, Mona's after losin' it now. At the opposite side of the field, people are turning on their radios and setting up their plastic tables and chairs for breakfast and hanging their beach towels on the hedge to dry in the sun. They can see us but we're too far away for them to understand what's going on. Sheamie has
woken and he's standing by the caravan wiping his eyes with his hands like he's wondering if he's still asleep. By now the sun is bright and Sheamie has to shield his eyes with his hand to see us.

Go inside, Sheamie, I say. Just go back inside. Don't scare her.

Sheamie grunts and fumbles with his shirt buttons and wonders, What's Mona doing? What's going on? He looks up at the sky. Jesus Christ, where did all them birds come from?

I don't answer. Pippa doesn't answer. We wave Sheamie inside and creep closer to Mona. We could reach out and grab her but she's sobbing and shaking and I'm certain she'll pull away if we touch her.

We call again, Please, Mona. Come on. Come in. Yeah, says Pippa. We'll only get the blame if anythin' happens to you.

Mona turns towards us. The sea spray curls itself around her like a white sheet and I can't see her anymore. I wonder if she's jumped and my stomach feels like it's dropped with her till the spray clears and she's still standing there with her arms by her side and water dripping down her face and the front of her blouse. There are tearstains on her cheeks and bite marks on her chest but she still tries to smile and I wish I could hold her and make all the pain go away. But I know I can't. All I can feel is useless.

Pippa and me take her by the hand and walk her inside where Sheamie has warm water and clean rags waiting in a bowl by the sink. We wash the blood from Mona's legs and change her clothes. We try to think of something to say but there's nothing to say. We comb her hair. There's no brush. I want to get a knife and go over there and slit the throat of whoever did this. I want to stick a pole through his arse and out his mouth and roast him over the fire till his skin is crisp and brown and feed him to a goat but all Pippa and me can
do is wrap Mona in a blanket and put her to bed and stroke her forehead till she sleeps.

Sheamie groans with the pain in his own head. He sits at the edge of the bunk and, when he looks at Mona, buries his face in his hands. We won't be escaping today, he says. Pippa sits beside Sheamie and Sheamie holds Pippa's hand till Pippa falls asleep with her head on Sheamie's lap.

For some reason our father stops going to the camp and we're back where we started. Spelling in the morning, going to chapels in the afternoon, and a beating or two. It's like this for so long I've lost count of days. I know we'll never escape. That's what I'm thinking this evening when there's a knock at the door. I pull back the curtain and look outside. It's Sonya, black under her eyes, her wet cheeks glistening in the setting sunlight. Our father sits on the chair to put on his Moses sandals and comb his hair. He takes his time and says he'll be back later.

We make banana sandwiches again and run over and back to the toilet filling bottles with water. Pippa wants to go now but Sheamie says it's too dangerous. It'll be dark soon. We'll go first thing in the morning.

We take turns staying awake so we won't sleep too long. First Sheamie. Then Mona. Then Pippa. Then me. We let Danny sleep through because he's only ten and you'd have to be twelve like me to sit awake for hours. Sheamie's watch is on the table. The hands glow in the dark and my brothers and sisters are asleep around me. I sit and listen to the ticking of the watch and the wheezing from Pippa's chest until it's time for us to go.

The dawn is warm and the water is every shade of lemon from the rising sun when we go for our boat in the clump of trees. We clean away the leaves that have gathered inside and drop in the bottles of water and banana sandwiches. The five
of us gather round the boat and carry it across the field. Chunks of damp grass and clay stick to the sides and we're terrified our father will come back early and snigger at us for thinking we could ever escape from him. At the top of the narrow path that leads down to the beach we can let the boat slide but we have to get in front to stop it running away altogether and that's even harder than lifting.

Finally we're on the beach. There's nobody around but my heart is banging from the carrying and the worrying over my father and whether the boat will float. We carry the boat over the stones that cut through the soles of our sandals and let it down in the sand at the water's edge. We tie on the blue sheet and let the wind fill it then push the boat into the sea.

The water splashes against the side and it looks a bit wonky but who cares. It floats.

We follow it out. The water is cold but not icy and the sea is calm. The tide is going out. Sheamie says that's good. We won't have to paddle as hard. Mona tucks her black hair behind her ears and climbs in first. She's at the front. Then Danny climbs in. Then Pippa. Then me. As each of us climbs in, the water gets higher and when Sheamie climbs in it's almost coming over the side. The bay is like a horseshoe. Sheamie warns us to be careful, the current might drag us to the left or right. Keep going straight ahead until we're clear of the bay altogether.

We dip our paddles in and row. We keep our heads down like we've seen the island men do and soon we're passing the rocks and heading to the open sea. Our yellow caravan on the cliff gets smaller and smaller and soon it'll be gone and I'll never see the stupid thing again.

A seagull tries to land on Danny's head. Its wings are straight and barely moving and we throw our banana sandwiches in the water to get rid of it.

That was a mistake.

Now there's a flock of seagulls. They've taken off from the rock ledges and follow us like they follow the fishing boats and all of them screeching for bananas and trying to land on our heads. We wave our paddles at them. We throw ham slices in the water but the seagulls ignore the ham. It's bananas they're after. Pippa turns around and screams, Do something, Sheamie. Sheamie throws more banana sandwiches and he tells Pippa just keep paddling an' they'll leave us alone. Danny starts to laugh; he looks up at the seagulls and sings to them. Sorry, we have no bananas, we have no bananas today. Mona tells him, Shut it. Shut it or she'll hit him on the head with the paddle. We keep paddling but we're not getting very far. There's water coming over the side and Mona and Pippa stop paddling and try scooping it out with their hands. The further from the beach we get the rougher the sea becomes. The waves are higher and lift us in the air before slamming us back in the water again. It's like being on a roller coaster and my stomach heaves every time we drop. The seagulls are back screeching over our heads and we try waving our paddles again. It's no use. We're doing so much looking and shouting at seagulls we haven't noticed we're drifting to the left. We're getting too close to the rocks. The blue sheet is breaking loose so now it's more like a flag than a sail. I stand up to grab the sheet to stop it blowing away. Pippa shouts, The rocks, Sheamie. We're going to hit the rocks!

Sheamie jumps in the water and puts himself between the boat and the rocks. His back is against the boat and his feet against the rocks. The boat is too heavy and it pushes him under and we hit the rocks with a thud that cracks the boat's bottom and the white foam gushes under our feet. We shout for Sheamie but we can't see him. The water is too dark and deep. When I stand, the boat rocks and Mona screams at me
to sit down, but I dive in and swim down looking for Sheamie.

The water is murky and I can't see anything, only the flat bottom of the boat and the slices of ham the seagulls won't touch. I feel my lungs ready to burst and I come back up and draw air and look around.

Pippa shouts from the boat, Did you find him, Matilda?

I dive back down and the salt water goes up my nose. I can see down to the bottom, rocks and seaweed, but no Sheamie. Then I see his glasses on the bottom and I dive down further and grab them. I feel the current pulling me places I don't want to go but I swim until I can't hold my breath any longer. I swim back up and when my head breaks the surface I feel my ears pop and the wind cutting into my face. Danny shouts, There he is, and points to my right. I see Sheamie's red hair bobbing in the water.

Sheamie swims to the rocks, one hand over the other, and I swim after him. Pippa, Mona and Danny jump from the boat and swim after us. There's nothing to do but sit on the rocks and watch our boat sink. There's nothing we can say to each other that will make it better. I look at my brothers and sisters, their wet clothes, their faces brown from the sun and their eyes white from the salt water, and I wonder what sort of God would give us hope of escaping then send seagulls to destroy it. It's like losing our mother all over again.

It was the bananas, says Pippa. We should have brought more bananas.

Sheamie agrees.

Our father is at the door filing his fingernails. He wants to know why we're wet and we tell him we went swimming but forgot our swimming togs so we went in our clothes. He's not surprised. He always knew we were stupid.

We stay in all day doing spellings hoping our clothes dry
before bed. We know he's going to make us sleep in them. They don't dry and in the morning we're flushed and hot and too sick to eat.

Glugs of sour milk pour out of the bottle over the stale cornflakes. We try to complain but our father says he's not buying milk until what's there is gone. And this is for you, Matilda. He leaves a raw sausage on top of the cornflakes because he knows how much I like sausages.

My brothers and sisters are watching. Pippa throws up on the seat but I'm too sick to care what happens to anyone anymore. My father throws the sour milk and cornflakes in my face and swipes his huge hand across the table sending bowls and bottles crashing against the wall and all over my brothers and sisters and me. He sends us out to wash because we stink and he's sick of the sight of us.

The others are too ashamed to go to the toilets for water so I go, even though it's embarrassing when you're covered in sour milk to stand there behind a woman holding a small child in her arms who has nothing better to do but stand there gawking and telling the child, shush, there's nothing to be frightened of, then hurry away with her bucket half full because she can't stand the smell of me a second longer. It's nearly as embarrassing as waiting for your own bucket to fill while a crowd builds up behind you pretending they don't notice the milk or my hair littered in cornflakes or the stench from me worse than the stale piss along the footpath.

We stay in bed for days with our faces flushed and our throats on fire. Sometimes our father comes back from the camp to check we're still alive and sometimes he even leaves food for us to cook ourselves and the only hope we have is, it's the end of summer.

I know because the geese are flying overhead like a giant V. I'm sitting on a rock wondering if we'll ever leave. The
fishermen are coming home for the night in their small boats with their lobster cages stacked at the front. The tide is out and the wreck of our own boat is standing like a tombstone in the sand. I hear Pippa calling me. She comes running along the beach with her soft pink cheeks on fire and sits beside me, panting.