Just Joshua (2 page)

At first Joshua and Robert were slow at finding
suitable
stones, but they soon speeded up and got into a rhythm where one would be at the pile picking up a stone while the other was putting one down on the growing wall.

‘Butcher.’

They all turned. A woman was standing there, basket on arm. ‘How about some meat?’

‘Of course.’ His father hesitated, then passed the mortar board to Robert. ‘Here. You say you want to be a builder when you grow up. See what you can do. The secret is not too little and not too much.’

The boys felt him watching them for a moment before he turned away to serve the woman.

Another customer arrived and stood there, talking. Then the butcher was back. He rolled a cigarette and
sat down by the wall.

They paused, looked at him. ‘No, no, you carry on,’ he said. ‘I like watching you work. You’re doing fine.’ He waved the cigarette at them, then lit it. ‘Half the pig’s gone to the hotel.’ He was speaking more to himself than to them, but they caught the satisfaction in his voice. ‘And half of what’s left is sold already.’

Eventually they stopped and went to squat beside him.

‘Here.’ Joshua took the coins from his pocket and gave them to his father. ‘We helped Mama Calla,’ he explained.

‘Again?’ His father seemed amused. ‘Well done.’ He pocketed the 1.30 korias. ‘Was this all?’

Joshua shook his head. ‘She gave us 1.50 each, and a paw paw. But we saw a mountain man, Dad. He was just outside the market. He was selling berries. A pile of them – this big.’ He got to his feet and demonstrated. Then he squatted again. ‘So I bought some.’

His father looked startled. Then he pulled a face. ‘Sour things, those wild mountain berries. I never …’ He stopped suddenly. ‘You didn’t like them, did you?’

A coconut thudded to the ground, narrowly missing a chicken, which jumped in the air and scuttled away, squawking. Joshua’s father, spreading mortar on stones, didn’t even look up at the sound.

Joshua appeared on the top step of the house,
yawning
. He scratched his arm absent-mindedly then
wandered
down the steps and round to the front of the house.

‘Can I help?’

Slap
went the mortar. His father picked up a stone from the heap and put it down, aligning it carefully. He had almost finished the top of the fourth and final wall.

He paused, took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and put the hat on again. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘After you’ve made us breakfast. And after you’ve done the laundry.’

‘Oh, Dad.’

‘Don’t whine, Josh. One of us has to do it, and you can see I’m busy.’

After breakfast, Joshua wrapped the washing inside one of his father’s shirts, put the bundle on his head
and walked to the bend in the river where the water was shallow. This was where the villagers did their washing. One of the younger women spotted him coming and nudged her companion, giggling. Robert’s mother looked up and saw him. ‘Hello, Joshua,’ she called out to him. ‘Come over here.’

He was relieved to see her. She wouldn’t make fun of him. He waded in beside her.

She watched him wet the clothes, spread soap on them and rub them hard, pushing and kneading against a nearby rock as he had seen his father do. Then he stood up straight, preparing to beat them. This was the bit he had been looking forward to. He lifted a shirt above his head.

‘Wait.’ Robert’s mother put out a hand. ‘Look, like this. Stand with your legs further apart.’ She tucked her dress inside her knickers in order to demonstrate. She squeezed out a shirt, whirled it above her head and thwacked it down on the rock, whirled and thwacked, whirled and thwacked. ‘All right?’

He nodded.

‘Now you.’

She stood back and watched him critically. ‘That’s it. Not bad at all. Well done.’

He thwacked away, no longer caring that he was the only boy among the women.

A hand in the small of his back sent him headlong
into the water. He coughed and spluttered, rescued the shirt that was starting to drift away, and turned round to see who had pushed him.

Tom and Millie darted behind a rock, laughing. He waded after them as fast as he could, whirling the shirt above his head. They dodged the shirt but he managed to grab hold of Millie. He dragged her, protesting, right into the river and ducked her under.

She came up spluttering, her hands held palm
outwards
in surrender.

‘Wouldn’t catch me doing the washing,’ Tom teased.

‘That’s because
you
wouldn’t know how,’ Robert’s mother retorted, before Joshua could say a word. She reached out and trapped Tom as he scurried past. ‘Here.’ She put a skirt in his hand and began to teach him.

Joshua and a dripping Millie laughed as they watched Tom’s efforts.

‘Finish your washing then,’ Robert’s mother ordered Joshua, and winked. ‘Millie, you help him. Tom’s
helping
me.’

She began to sing. The other women took up the tune. Joshua, Millie and Tom joined in, pounding the clothes against the rocks, beating time.

When Joshua got back, his father wasn’t there. The fourth wall was finished and there was a small heap of mud at the side, still damp, so he couldn’t have been
gone long. The shop was almost ready; a stone shell. There were still some cracks between the stones that needed to be smoothed over. Joshua scooped some mud up in the trowel and slapped it over the gaps, smoothing it as his father had done. But he soon got restless and wandered off.

At the side of the road he saw Swabber with a rat in its mouth, a large, plump rat of the local sort, which rarely came above ground. The dog shook it hard, his whole body wriggling with the effort, for the rat was about nine inches long.

Swabber dropped his prey, sniffed, licked his lips, then picked the creature up again by its neck, pawing it. At Joshua’s approach, the dog growled deep in his throat and glared, trying to be fierce. But when Joshua just squatted in front of him, making no move to take the rat away, he went back to his shaking and pawing.

Suddenly Swabber tired of his game. He abandoned the rat in the dust at Joshua’s feet and lumbered off. Joshua noted the dulling, dead eyes, the small pointed ears, the strong claws for digging holes in earth. He picked up a stick and prodded the body to make
absolutely
sure that it wouldn’t spring to life and bite him. When it didn’t, he began to unbutton his shirt, but then thought better of it. There was a banana tree nearby and he tore off part of a leaf. Using the stick, he rolled the corpse on to the leaf, folded the ends together and
got up, balancing it carefully.

Millie appeared and fell into step at his side. ‘Hello, Josh.’

He didn’t answer, not wanting to lose concentration and drop the rat.

‘What’ve you got in there, Josh?’ she asked.

‘A rat.’

Millie gasped in admiration. He should have known it wouldn’t put her off.

‘Great,’ she said. ‘Is it alive?’

He shook his head.

‘What are you doing with it?’

Since Joshua hadn’t yet decided, he didn’t answer.

‘Josh? What are you going to do with the rat?’

Joshua was still thinking about it.

‘Where are you taking it, Josh? Josh? Why won’t you answer me?’

Joshua stopped. He had had an idea. He grinned at her. ‘I’m going to cut it up. Do you want to help me?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Millie said. She was always game for anything.

‘You can wear my other shorts and shirt if you like,’ Joshua offered.

‘Ooh, yes,’ she said eagerly.

He had noticed that her dress was starting to tear at the seams. Millie hated dresses, but her mother made her wear them so that it would be easier to tell her apart
from Tom, her identical twin brother. She seemed to be constantly growing out of them. Even though she was a year younger than Joshua, she was as tall as he was.

When they got to Joshua’s place his father was still missing. The butcher’s table was empty, scrubbed clean. Joshua considered using it, but decided that it might not be wise, so he put his package down on the smaller table.

‘Ready?’ he asked her.

She nodded. ‘Your shorts,’ she reminded him.

‘They’re on my shelf,’ he said. ‘You get them.’

While she was gone, he slid the banana leaf out from under the rat and studied it, first from one side, then the other.

Millie reappeared, dressed in his clothes.

‘Hold the rat steady.’

She didn’t hesitate.

‘First I’m going to cut off its ears,’ he announced.

‘Why?’

He opened his mouth to explain the ritual. ‘So that …’ His voice trailed away as he realised that it didn’t count. This was a rat, it was already dead, and he hadn’t killed it in the first place. Besides, when villagers killed their chickens there was no ritual; they just wrung their necks. The ritual was only for pigs, only for his father.

‘Cut off the tail,’ Millie ordered, taking advantage of his hesitation. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Okay. Stand back,’ he told her. He brought down the knife with a blow his father would be proud of and cut through the tail an inch from the body – not quite where he’d intended, but almost. With the tip of the knife he flicked it off the table. They squatted down and looked at the wiry, snake-like thing.

‘Yuck,’ Millie said. ‘What do we do next?’

The same as with pigs, Joshua supposed. He turned the rat on its back.

‘Hold that leg,’ he said and pointed.

Millie gripped the back leg.

‘Hold it out from the body.’

Thud!

Down came the knife. Leg split from body. Millie didn’t flinch. ‘And now the other one?’ she asked.

He nodded.

He raised the knife a second time.

His fist was held in an iron grip and the knife pulled from it.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Two hands shook him hard. ‘That knife’s not a toy. It’s dangerous. This table isn’t for games; it’s for butchering. What if that rat had diseases? I thought I could trust you, Joshua. Have you learned nothing? His father drew breath and went on. ‘Go inside and stay there till I call for you.’ He shoved Joshua from him. ‘And you, Tom, go home.’

‘Millie,’ Joshua heard Millie protest. ‘I’m Millie.’ But
she didn’t push the point. Joshua’s father’s face was set hard in anger.

Joshua waited for him to go past the window, then threw Millie her dress. He grinned at her, pretending that he didn’t care.

‘I’ll come back later,’ she whispered loudly and scampered off.

Once she was gone he sat down on the floor by his bed. He was in real trouble; it wasn’t often that his father was this angry with him. He wondered what he would do and how long his father intended to keep him indoors. He reached under his bed for his fruit book. He slid it out and opened it, turning the pages till he got to the spread on berries, looking to see if he could find the mountain man’s berries.

‘Bilberries,’ he read silently, his lips moving, ‘
blueberries
.’ None of the pictures looked right, but still he read, enjoying the words. ‘Cloudberries.’ He took the book on to his bed where the light was better. ‘
Strawberries
.’

He glanced up at the windowsill. A beetle was
squatting
there. It was bright green and shone in the sunlight like a glittering jewel. He put his head on the sill and examined it from the side. He bent down and blew at it gently. It stayed there, sparkling. He pushed it with his finger, wanting to see it fly.

It flew all right, but when it did it released a stench
stronger than rotting fish, worse than the smelliest
lavatory
pit.

‘Was that you?’ his father said, appearing below the window. ‘Was it a stink beetle? Did you touch it?’

‘Oh,’ said Joshua. ‘I didn’t know. I wanted to see it fly.’ It seemed as if he could do nothing right today. His voice faltered, unsure whether his father was still angry. ‘It looked so beautiful.’

‘Fool.’ His father reached up through the window and ruffled his hair.

That was a good sign. Joshua picked up the book quickly. ‘Dad. I can’t find those berries the mountain man was selling. What are they?’

‘They’re called …’ His father’s voice died away. ‘Look, I’m thirsty,’ he changed the subject. ‘Make us some tea, will you? Then you can help me finish off the walls. Go on then,’ as Joshua hesitated. ‘Hurry up.’

‘And no more rats!’ Joshua heard him shout as he went to fill the kettle.

The sun shone full on the clearing. It picked out specks of dust on the dark green leaves of a mango tree, which swayed as a weight pressed down on its branches. Leaves rustled with movement. Joshua’s father approached, dragging behind him large palm leaves that left tracks in the earth. His shadow was only just ahead of his toes at this midday hour. ‘Where are you?’ he called.

‘Here,’ Joshua shouted from his perch high above. ‘Picking mangoes.’

His father let go of the palm leaves. ‘Pass them to me,’ he said, ‘then come down. I want you to go to the Gola Hotel. Tell Oliver I can take another pig tomorrow if he’s got one for me. Can you do that?’

‘All right,’ Joshua said confidently.

‘I’d go, only I want to get on with the roof.’ The palm leaves were for the thatch. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you can manage on your own. Comb your hair first.’

Joshua didn’t bother with his hair, and his father didn’t check. He set off down the road that ran along the sea, past the sugar cane and the rubbish tip. He held
his nose against the stench. About a mile further along he came to his convent school, a new concrete
building
, empty now that it was the holidays, apart from the few orphans who lived there with the nuns. The Gola hotel was nearby, beyond the jetty, overlooking the harbour. It was small – two storeys high – its wood painted pale green and white. He thought it was beautiful.

He stood outside the hotel, suddenly unsure of
himself
. He’d never been here on his own before. A man in a smart cream suit saw him gaping. ‘What do you want, boy?’

Joshua jumped. ‘Oliver, the cook,’ he said politely. ‘My father sent me.’

‘Go round the back.’ The man jerked his thumb. ‘That’s where the kitchen is.’

Joshua wandered on round, gazing up at the wide verandah on the first floor. Everyone said there were rooms up there for guests, but he’d never met anyone who had stayed there. He wondered what it would be like to sleep in one of the hotel bedrooms, so high up you could look down on the sea.

‘Mind where you’re going!’ He’d bumped into Oliver who was sitting on the kitchen steps, rolling a cigarette.

‘Sorry.’

Oliver licked the paper, put the cigarette in his mouth, lit it and inhaled greedily.

Joshua waited.

‘Were you looking for me?’ Oliver asked at last.

Joshua nodded. ‘Dad says, have you got a pig for him?’

‘When for?’

‘Tomorrow.’

Oliver leaned forward and straightened Joshua’s shirt, which had slipped sideways. It was too big for him. It had belonged to his father. He shook his head. ‘That’s too soon. I can manage the day after. Okay?’

Joshua shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Would you like some pastries?’

Oliver’s pastries were famous. ‘Ooh, yes.’

Oliver stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and got up. Joshua followed him into the kitchen and watched him take pastries from a large tray and put them in a paper bag. ‘Here you go, one for you, one for your father. Don’t tell anyone.’

Joshua took the other path home, past the hospital. A hospital porter was coming towards him, his arm around a man, half carrying him towards the hospital building.

Joshua almost dropped the brown paper bag.

‘Out of the way, you!’ The porter barked at him.

Joshua took no notice. He was staring at the man. He was wearing a straw hat shaped like a cone and there was a blanket tossed over his shoulders. The blanket
had a black crocodile woven into it.

The man stared back at him. He was so close that Joshua could have touched him. Mountain man.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ the porter said crossly. ‘Out of the way. Can’t you see the man’s in pain?’

A line of sweat trickled down the mountain man’s forehead. Joshua watched as another drop detached itself from beneath the straw hat and glided its way downwards. There was panic and fear in the
red-rimmed
eyes.

‘Why don’t you take off the blanket?’ Joshua wanted to suggest, but he didn’t know the words in the man’s language and they stuck in his throat.

The porter elbowed him aside impatiently and led the man past. He stumbled. He looked, Joshua thought, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Joshua reached out a hand to help. He touched grease on the man’s skin and recoiled. It was smeared on thickly and smelled rancid, like the pork fat his father gave away when it had been standing too long. In one hand the mountain man clutched a string bag that had lumps of blue-grey stone showing through.

The man and the porter finally reached the hospital steps – ten deep steps, white and polished. Another porter hurried down from the building to help.

The mountain man put one foot on the bottom step and paused, swaying and trembling. He looked back
over his shoulder and caught Joshua’s eyes and held them with his own. He kept his head trained on Joshua as he was helped slowly up the steps, one by one.

Joshua could not tear his gaze away. He began to lift a hand to wave goodbye but found that he couldn’t. He was trapped in the man’s pleading eyes. It wasn’t until the mountain man was swallowed up by the dark hospital entrance that Joshua felt able to move. Then he ran. He ran round the corner of the hospital, down the dusty path at its side, across the flat stretch of grass where coconut palms grew in stately rows, back to the road and on to the edge of the clearing. He stopped outside Robert’s house, panting.

‘Hey! Joshua!’

He turned and saw Robert under the jamalac tree, helping two of his younger brothers to build a
miniature
house with broken-up branches and leaves.

‘Watch out,’ one of the small boys warned crossly as Joshua sat down beside Robert. ‘It isn’t very strong yet.’

‘What’s up?’ Robert asked over the small boy’s head.

‘There’s a mountain man,’ Joshua began and stopped. He wasn’t sure exactly how to explain a
feeling
with facts. ‘They’ve brought him in to the hospital. I saw him. He … looked at me.’

Robert was puzzled. ‘So?’

‘His eyes … I thought he was asking for help.’

‘Help? But he’s a mountain man. You just said so.
You can’t help mountain men,’ Robert said scornfully.

Joshua nodded, then shook his head. ‘Maybe this one can get better.’

‘Don’t be silly. They never do. Mum says
government
medicine’s wasted on them. The only way they come out of hospital is lying down, in a coffin.’

‘Yes, but I thought –,’ Joshua shifted on the hot ground. ‘I mean, let’s go back and see if we can do
anything
.’ Suddenly the words were rushing out. ‘Maybe mountain people die because they’re lonely here and it’s strange. And this one had a crocodile on his blanket, like the man in the market. It might be the same man, you see. Maybe we’re the only people who know him.’

Robert considered. Then he nodded. ‘Okay.’ He turned to his younger brothers. ‘See you later.’ He got to his feet.

Five-year-old Solomon let out a wail. ‘What about our house?’

Robert cuffed him gently. ‘You finish it and you can show me when I get back. Build a wall of stones around it so the chickens don’t peck it over.’

Solomon beamed. He liked building walls. He was already starting to gather stones as they left.

The whitewashed hospital gleamed in front of them.

They drew closer, looking up at the tall windows. Unlike Joshua’s house and most of the house in the
village
, these windows had glass in them, and you could
push down the top halves to let the air in. There were ten windows on each side, but they were too high for Joshua and Robert to see in. They prowled around the building, heads craned upwards, gatching glimpses of the black mountains that brooded threateningly behind the hospital, making it look small and vulnerable. A curtain fluttered in the breeze, but no mountain man came to the window.

‘I really thought he was trying to tell me something,’ Joshua said. ‘But how can he if he doesn’t know I’m here?’

‘Let’s go and tell him then,’ Robert suggested.

They stared at each other.

‘Do you think they’ll let us in?’ Joshua asked.

‘Come on. We’ll find out.’

They went round to the front of the building, Robert leading the way. They started up the steps. Joshua stopped and rubbed one foot against the other till he was sure the dust had fallen off. Then he ran to catch up with Robert and together they went into the entrance hall. It was empty and cool. A staircase ahead of them went up to a gallery. The fan set high in the ceiling
ruffled
their shirts. Joshua stamped his foot and whirled in the wind below it, arms spread wide.

A nun bustled through a door and paused when she saw them. ‘What are you two scamps doing here?’ she scolded. ‘Are you sick?’

Joshua stopped in mid-whirl and grinned at her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ve come to see the mountain man.’

‘Have you indeed?’

‘We want to visit him,’ Joshua said stubbornly. ‘He wants us to.’

She opened a drawer in the desk near the door and took out a file. ‘Are you family?’

They shook their heads. ‘He’s very ill,’ she told them gently. ‘Only family can visit him, it’s the rules.’ She opened the file and began to study it.

‘Off you go then,’ she said firmly, seeing them still standing there.

‘Is he dying?’ Joshua asked.

She stared at him. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she said. This time she sounded cross.

‘Yes. But is he? Dying?’ Joshua stood his ground.

‘Of course not. Now out, both of you. Scram!’

Joshua looked at Robert and they turned.

‘Do you think she was telling the truth?’ he asked Robert as they went slowly down the steps.

Robert shrugged. ‘Not really. Do you?’

‘I do,’ Joshua said, but even as he spoke, he wondered.