Alarm Girl (17 page)

‘Twenty-one degrees will do nicely,’ said the woman sitting next to Ian.

The plane began to move slowly forward and he clasped his hands together. The woman gave him a sympathetic smile, perhaps assuming that he was a nervous flier.

He looked away.

The tremor of the engine shuddered in his chest as the plane took off. Out of the window, England, with both his children in it, tilted away. He had left them with their grandparents before, many times, while he was establishing the new life he was making for all of them, but it was a risk he was taking, making this move
permanent. Fields and roads grew miniature as the plane climbed and were suddenly lost as they entered cloud. He would Skype every day as usual, but Robin and Indy could be strangers the next time he saw them. Their lifestyle with Val and Doug was so different from the one he and Karen had planned. Then again, nothing was as they’d planned.

‘Your first trip to South Africa?’ his fellow passenger asked once the seatbelt sign had been turned off. She unclipped her belt with manicured fingernails.

‘No, I’ve been before,’ Ian answered. He didn’t return her question, and remembered a cardboard sign he’d made once for Indy to play shop with, with the words
Open
and
Closed
written on it.

He shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. Indy had a new habit of fidgeting with a scarf she carried about – a comfort blanket by any other name. Her grandmother called her ‘Mrs Fiddle’. He had asked Valerie not to draw attention to the habit in this way, pointing out that Robin occasionally used the nickname against his sister, but Val told him it was harmless and that it was helpful for girls to have what she called ‘their corners’ knocked off by an older brother.

Indy dreamed about her mother and in the mornings, when she described the appearances her mother made during the night – calling to Indy from clifftops, standing watching her from doorways, forever on a threshold, it seemed – she would twist and twist her scarf. Ian wished Karen would come to him in his dreams, even just to call
to him from a far clifftop. He wanted to hear her voice. He missed her.

IT WAS CLEAR AND COLD
outside and even with the security lights there were loads of stars. The yard smelled of petrol. Tonyhog was on the ground next to the Jeep. There were tyre marks on the ground and blood was coming out from under the blanket that covered him. There were no lights on in Zami’s shed. I asked Dad where he was and Dad said the village, probably. When he comes back, don’t tell him off, I said, and I made Dad promise.

We had to make Tonyhog a grave otherwise the jackals would get him. The spade was heavy. Rust from its handle flaked off in my hand. We went to the far corner of the garden where the security lights were faintest and it was almost dark and we started to dig. Jack didn’t bark and Dad said what a good guard dog he was because he only barked when something was wrong, like earlier when the horrible stick man was there. It made me shiver to think of the stick man’s yellow eyes and his snake voice and his hitting.

I could dig up the grass easily but underneath it was earth so dry and hard we had to chip it with the pointed edges of our spades first. Soon we were making a hole. I said to Dad Maybe Zami’s sister could come and live here and work for you like Zami does but he said it
wasn’t as simple as that. I asked him why not and he said People have their own lives and that he didn’t have room in his life for a baby on top of everything else. Like you don’t have room for us, I said, and that made him stop digging. He said of course he had room for us, wasn’t he the one who wanted us to come and live with him? I told him I didn’t want him and Beautiful to be girlfriend and boyfriend and he called me sweetheart like he was being kind but what he said wasn’t kind. He said there were some things that weren’t anything to do with me. Without the security lights it was dark so I couldn’t see what his face looked like when he said it.

Grandad came out to help us and after ages the grave was ready. My hands were sore from holding the spade. We tried to carry Tony over to it but he was so heavy me and Grandad couldn’t lift our end so Dad had to carry him by himself. He held him like a big baby. His body was warm like it was when he was alive and sunbathing with me and Zami scratching his back.

When Dad tipped Tony into the hole, a gasping noise came out of me, I couldn’t help it. No one paid any attention to me crying and I was glad. Tony’s poor tusks wouldn’t fit so his neck got crooked at a funny angle and Dad had to push him in with both hands. He packed some straw around the body and then we shovelled all the earth back in and Dad said he would get some big rocks to put on top. Nan and Robin came out to help and we all got a rock each. Nan said be careful not to drop
them because we could break our toes. Hers was the smallest rock, then mine, then Grandad’s and Robin’s were about the same size and Dad’s was the biggest. In the end when we had done it we all stood around like at a funeral. Dad said Tony was one of the family. We were all standing there and it felt like we were all separate inside our family. I was separate and Dad and Robin and Nan and Grandad were all separate. You were separate from all of us. Tony had joined our family but in the end he was separate too, just a bushpig that had to be buried quickly so the jackals didn’t get him.

You said I was looking very grown-up these days. I said it was because I had a tan and new shoes and a puffball skirt and you said it was true, all those things were the things that made me look more grown-up than when you last saw me. I asked where you’d been and you just said Away. I asked if you missed us and you said Yes of course, Go-Go. Why don’t you come back then? You said you couldn’t. You asked if I liked living at Nan and Grandad’s and I said it was okay. It gets a bit annoying when Nan won’t let me stay up late but Robin’s allowed to, I said, and you said that’s because Robin’s older. I told you I don’t like Grandad’s smell in the morning and you laughed and asked me what he smells like. You know what he smells like, I said. I think it’s his soap. Nan uses the same one as me and Robin but Grandad has his own soap. It’s orange and it smells funny. You asked if we were having a nice time with Dad and I said
It’s brilliant. You asked if I would like to live in South Africa all of the time but I said No and you said Why not? I said because I would miss Beth. You didn’t say anything and I said You don’t like Beth, do you? You asked me why I thought that and I didn’t know. You said of course you liked Beth, she was my friend and she had been really kind to me. I said I know, that’s why I like her. You said I know. I told you that Beth sometimes nicks stuff from the shop near the bus stop. Then I felt a warm fuzzy feeling and I woke up. The sheets were wet and sticking to my legs and you weren’t there.

Everyone was waiting for Zami to come back but he didn’t. He didn’t come and he didn’t come. I didn’t want to go on the tyre swing because I knew I wouldn’t see Tonyhog, only his grave. Silumko came and Dad told him everything that happened. Zami didn’t do anything wrong, I said, and Dad said I know that, Indy, I’m worried about him that’s all.

I showed Nan how to play the drawing game even though she wasn’t really interested. Picasso drew a restaurant. I knew what it was because of all the tables and chairs and a man in a chef’s hat but I pretended not to guess so we broke our record of forty non-stop guesses. I knew Picasso wasn’t you. It was just some random person.

Robin said Maybe Zami could be at his sister’s house. I wanted to go there but Dad said he didn’t know where she lived. I told him I could remember the
journey and I begged for us to go. In the end Dad said Okay. When we got in the car I didn’t look towards the end of the garden where Tony’s grave was but I knew it was there. There was a pile of earth next to the fence where we made it.

A new security man was standing in front of the gate instead of Lindisizwe. We drove the same way the bus went. Dad was amazed I could remember the journey but it was easy. Normally when we are driving anywhere the thought of arriving makes me feel so tired I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years like a princess in a fairytale but this time I was urgent to get there. We parked in the marketplace and everyone was looking at us. Some children came up and were touching the car. Dad said We mustn’t be long. We knocked on the door with the number painted on it. Zami’s sister was wearing the same skirt as last time, with her baby asleep in a towel wrapped around her again. Dad asked if she had seen Zami but she said no. She was a bit nervous and she only opened the door a tiny little bit. Dad was speaking in his kind voice that annoys me when he speaks like it to me but I was glad he was speaking like it to her. He said If you see your brother, can you tell him to contact me as soon as possible? Tell him he’s not in any trouble. Then something moved in the dark at the back of the little room and Zami came out of it. He stood next to his sister and said something to her in his foreign language. She opened the door a little bit more. Zami had a cut on his eye, all shiny and red. I told him
Tonyhog was dead and that we made a grave. I said When are you coming home but he didn’t say anything back. He was looking at Dad with his big round eyes, one of them with a big cut right next to it. Dad said That wound looks nasty, why don’t you come home and let Silumko take a look at it? Then Dad spoke some African to him and Zami spoke in African back.

I said to Dad What about you-know and Dad said to Zami Indigo wants to know if your sister would like to come and live with us. You can have my room, I said to her, and Dad said the baby could come too. Zami didn’t say anything and nor did Nomsa but she took Dad’s hand and pressed it against her forehead. Dad said I think we should go now and we went inside the house to get Nomsa’s things. She didn’t have many.

There were lots of people standing next to our car when we came back to it – grown-ups as well as children. We didn’t talk to them, we just ignored them. It felt like bad manners but we didn’t know them, even though they were touching our car. It was burning hot inside so we had to switch the aircon to max. Nomsa and Zami sat in the back like me and Robin. I sat in the front like a grown-up.

Actually, I don’t think I will go to the girls’ school, I said. I think I will go back to England with Nan and Grandad. Dad didn’t say anything. Nan and Grandad are good at looking after me and Robin, I said, and we are English not African. Dad still didn’t say anything and I wondered if he was listening. I wondered if I
would have to say it all again but then he stopped the car on the side of the road and switched off the engine. What does Robin think, he said, and I said You’ll have to ask him. Good answer, Dad said. He thinks the same as me, I said. We want to go to the same school and it would be better for us to stay in England with people we know. Our friends are at school and our neighbours go to the same school, like Beth. No one spoke for ages. Zami and his sister were just sitting in the back looking at nothing and me and Dad were in the front looking straight ahead at the long empty road in front. Dad’s eyes had tears in them but he wasn’t crying. He said even though he was disappointed he understood. He leaned over to me and we hugged with our seatbelts stretching. I told him he would have Zami and Nomsa to keep him company. And Beautiful, too. I could smell his smell and I breathed it in to keep it. Me and Robin can save up all our birthday and Christmas money so we can come out every holiday, I said. He laughed at that and I knew it was because a plane ticket is more expensive than pocket money. I know it’s expensive, I said, and he said Indigo you are turning into a mature young woman and it is lovely to see. I am proud of you. Then he started the car engine again.

He said had I thought of writing down some of my thoughts and I thought he meant about whether to stay in South Africa or live in England but he meant about everything else. About you. I said What’s the point and he said No point but it might make you feel better.
He said Maybe you could write Mum a letter, tell her how you feel. He said That’s what mums are for. She’s dead though, I said. You can’t write a letter to someone who’s dead. I looked out of the window. Dad didn’t say anything for a long time and I thought how when I got back to Dad’s I would get some of his Taylored Travel writing paper to write it on because you are Karen Taylor and I am Indigo Taylor and I love you.

We were driving back to Dad’s house and we overtook a bus like the one me and Robin and Zami rode in, all smelly with loud music and rough driving. I looked to see if I could see us in it. I imagined Robin and me on the bus and it made me think about the journey home to England when all of this will be over. It will be winter there and all the shops will still have their Christmas decorations up even though my legs are quite tanned. I don’t know if it will be day or night by the time we get there and I’m not sure if Grandad parked his car at the airport or if we will get a taxi. If we get a taxi, Robin will sit in the front and I’ll go in the back all squashed up with Nan and Grandad, so close I will be able to smell Grandad’s horrible soap. The driver might have his radio on. He’ll drive us and Nan will show him where to stop. If it’s Grandad driving he’ll know where to stop. If it’s Grandad driving, he’ll park the car in the drive and when we get out and get our bags he’ll lock all the doors then check them, testing the handles to make sure they really are shut. It will be freezing cold, with frost on the grass. Everyone will shiver and Grandad
will say Brass monkeys. Nan’s got the keys on her teddy bear keyring and she’ll say Home Sweet Home as she opens the door. If it’s late at night she’ll say it in a quiet voice. Minnie will start barking next door and wake everyone up and Beth will have to whisper in her ear that it’s okay, she doesn’t need to protect her because it’s just us getting home from holiday. She’ll be in bed in her heart pyjamas but Minnie will run to the door barking so she’ll have to get up and cuddle her and tell her that everything’s fine. She’ll scraggle her ears and wave her paw up at the window. I’ll wave back and Nan will tell me off and say You can see Beth tomorrow. The house will smell of emptiness. It’s not big or luxury like Dad’s. The front room will look really small. Robin will go straight to the toilet and Grandad will moan that he’s going to be in there for ages. Nan will say Doug leave him be and get that kettle on. I’ll say I’ll make the tea and Nan and Grandad will look at each other and think like Dad that I am growing into a mature young woman but I’ll pretend I don’t notice and I will just carry on. I’ll fill the kettle and I’ll have to plug it in because Nan will have taken all the plugs out while we’ve been away, then I’ll take four cups and put four teabags in. While we’re waiting for the water to boil Grandad will smile at me in a shy kind of way and call me by my name and tell me it’s a small life but it’s a good life.