Almond - Counting Stars

Contents

For all of us:
James, Catherine, Colin, David,
Catherine, Barbara, Mary, Margaret

Introduction

T HESE STORIES ARE ABOUT MY CHILDHOOD. Theyre about the people I grew up with, our hopes and fears, our tragedies and joys. They explore a time that has disappeared and a place that has changed. They bring back those who have gone, and allow them to walk and speak again within the pages of a book. Like all stories, they merge memory and dream, the real and the imagined, truth and lies. And, perhaps like all stories, they are an attempt to reassemble what is fragmented, to rediscover what has been lost.

The Middle of the World

S HE STARTED WITH THE UNIVERSE. Then she wrote The Galaxy, The Solar System, The Earth, Europe, England, Felling, Our House, The Kitchen, The White Chair With A Hundred Holes Like Stars, then her name, Margaret, and she paused.

Whats in the middle of me? she asked.

Your heart, said Mary.

She wrote My Heart.

In the middle of that?

Your soul, said Catherine.

She wrote My Soul.

Mam reached down and lifted the front of Margarets T-shirt and prodded her navel.

Thats where your middle is, she said. Thats where you were part of me.

Margaret drew a row of stick figures, then drew concentric rings growing out from each of them.

Wheres the real middle of the world? she said.

They used to think the Mediterranean, said Catherine. Medi means middle. Terra means world. The sea at the middle of the world.

Margaret drew a blue sea with a green earth around it.

There was another sea at the edges, said Catherine. It was filled with monsters and it went right to the end of the world. If you got that far, you just fell off.

Margaret drew this sea. She put fangs and fins for monsters.

Theres no end, really, is there? she said.

No, said Catherine.

And theres no middle, is there?

Catherine laughed.

Not really.

Mam prodded Margarets navel again.

Thats the middle of the world, she said.

Later that day we went to the grave. Colin rushed home from Reyrolles on his Vespa for lunch. He bolted his food and rattled away again. We heard the scooter taking him on to Felling Bank and down toward the square.

When it faded, Mary said,

Should we go to the grave today?

We hadnt been for months. We thought of the dead being in Heaven rather than being in the earth.

Good idea, said Mam. Ill make some bara brith for when you get home.

We were on the rocky path at the foot of the street when Dandy ran after us. He was a little black poodle that was never clipped and had horrible breath.

Go home! said Mary. Dandy, go home!

He yapped and growled and whined.

Dandy, go home!

No good. We just had to let him trot along beside us.

Margaret fiddled with her navel as she walked.

When I started, she said, what was I like?

What do you think you were like? said Mary. Like a gorilla? You were very very very little. You were that little, you couldnt even be seen. You were that little, nobody even knew you were blinkin there!

Daft dog, said Catherine, as Dandy ran madly through a clump of foxgloves and jumped at bees.

Soon we saw Auntie Jan and Auntie Mona ahead of us. They wore head scarves and carried shopping bags on their arms.

Bet you cant tell which is which, said Mary.

Even when theyre talking to me I cant tell which is which, said Margaret.

The two aunts hurried into Ell Dene Crescent.

Did they look the same when nobody knew they were there? said Margaret.

Of course they did! said Mary. Everybody looks the same when they cant be blinkin seen!

The aunts waved and grinned and we all waved and Dandy yapped and then they hurried on again down into Ell Dene Crescent.

Mary picked daisies from the verges as we walked.

She said, Dad once said that daisies were the best of all flowers. I think I remember that.

You do, said Catherine. You do remember. He called them days eyes. Awake in the day and closed asleep at night.

Further on, Daft Peter lay in his greatcoat under a tree on The Drive.

Not him! said Catherine. Well never get away from him!

We sat on a bench on Watermill Lane.

How far is it? said Margaret.

You know how far, said Mary.

Nowheres far in Felling, said Catherine.

We watched Daft Peter.

Move, said Catherine. Go on. Move.

Is Felling very small? said Margaret.

Mary stamped her feet.

Yes, said Catherine.

Is it the smallest place in the world?

Is this Daft Question Day? said Mary.

Yes! said Margaret.

Its very small, said Catherine. But theres smaller places.

Where?

Places in the desert, said Mary. Rings of huts in the jungle. Villages in the Himalayas.

Yes, said Catherine. And places like Hebburn or Seaton Sluice.

Not Seaton Sluice, said Mary. Its got that big beach. Its got to be bigger than Felling. And Hebburns got that big new shopping center.

Catherine sighed.

Windy Nook, then, she said.

Thats not fair, said Mary. Windy Nooks a part of somewhere else.

Where, then? And make it somewhere we know.

Bill Quay, said Mary.

No one said anything, even though we all knew Bill Quay was part of somewhere else as well.

Thank goodness, said Catherine. Bill Quay.

Daft Peter didnt move. In the end, we walked on. Dandy snarled as we drew nearer to the man.

Dandy! said Catherine.

Daft Peter smiled and rubbed his eyes.

Heres me thought I was dreamin, he said. And all the time Im just wakin up.

He leaned against the tree.

What would ye say if I knew how to turn swimmin fish into flyin fowl? he said.

Take no notice, whispered Catherine.

Nowt much at all, I see, said Peter. But what if I said I could take you girls and show you how to fly aroond this tree.

Id say you couldnt! said Mary.

Aha! said Peter. Just let me look inside this bag, then.

He dug into a brown bag. He took out a sandwich, something bright red and black hanging out of two dried-out slices of bread. He held it out to Mary as we approached.

Take a bite of that, he said. Gan on, take a bite of that and see.

Dandy jumped up at him, barking and snarling. Daft Peter flailed and kicked and the sandwich flew into the road.

Daft dog! he shouted. Look what yeve done to me dinna!

We hurried past.

What would ye say if I turned a daft dog into a nice meat pie? yelled Peter.

Id say it would be very hairy and it would stink! said Mary.

We arrived at the high steel graveyard gates. Just inside, withered flowers and broken wreaths were heaped in bins. Wasps and flies hovered and crawled. We held Dandy back from jumping at them. We all agreed that simple daisies were the best idea. We walked in single file on the narrow path between the graves. We murmured the names, the familiar and the unknown. At the far edge, just beyond the spiked fence, traffic thundered on the bypass.

We stood before our grave: Barbara, beloved sister, 1959; James, beloved father, 1966; Neither can they die any more, for they are equal unto the angels; and the empty area for other names. Mary placed the daisies by the headstone. We hung our heads and said our prayers. We said the prayers that Mam and Colin would have said. I imagined the two crumbled coffins and bodies, their intermingled dust. I imagined the new coffins being placed there, the new names being written, the new dust mingling. Not enough room to take all of us, not enough space for all of our names.