Juliet Butler - The Less You Know the Sounder You Sleep

I know Im dying. I just dont know how.

The ceiling rushes past me in the First City Hospital as were pushed down the corridor in a white-coated swirl of medics. First City; weve been here before. Masha, my Mashinka, youre here with me. But this time its different. This time Im alone.

Two nurses are running along with us, one on each side. Theyre talking, their voices muffled through their surgical masks.

How long has she got?

God knows!

Where are we taking them?

Emergency unit.

Do the doctors know? Can they separate them?

No, no, of course not, theyd need a team of twenty surgeons.

Everyones always thought were fools. That we cant understand, because were Together.

What do we tell her?

Nothing, of course. Tell her nothing.

The nurse bends over me and speaks loudly and slowly.

Mashas fine, shes just sleeping, thats all.

I start crying.

Hush, hush now, everythings going to be fine

Im bored, says Masha.

Mummys sitting by our cot, and she doesnt look up from all her writing.

Im really, really booored.

Youre always bored, Masha. Play with Dasha.

Shes booooring.

No, Im not, I say. Youre boring.

Masha sticks her tongue out at me. You stink.

Girls! Mummy puts down her pencil and stares at us over the bars, all cross.

We dont say anything for a bit, while she goes back to writing. Skritch. Skritch.

Sing us the lullaby, Mummy bye-oo bye-ooshki sing that again, says Masha.

Not now.

Skritch. Skritch.

What you writing, Mummy?

None of your business, Masha.

Yes, but what you writing?

No answer.

Masha squashes her face through the bars of the cot. When can we have those all-colours bricks back to play with? The all-colours ones?

Whats the point of that, when Dasha builds them and you just knock them down? Mummy doesnt even look up.

Thats because she likes building, and I like knocking.

Exactly.

Can I draw, then?

You mean scribble.

I can draw our Box, I can, and I can draw you with your stethoscope too.

A bell rings from outside the door to our room, and Mummy closes her book. A bit of grey hair falls down so she pushes it behind her ear with her pencil.

Well, its five oclock. Time for me to go home.

Can we come home with you, Mummy? I say. Can we? Now its five clock?

No, Dashinka. How many times do I have to tell you that this hospital is your home.

Is your home a hospital too? Another one?

No. I live in a flat. Outside. You live in this cot, in a glass box, all safe and sound.

But all children go home with their mummies, the nannies told us so.

The nannies should talk less. She stands up. You know exactly how lucky you are to be cared for and fed in here. Dont you? We both nod. Right, then. She gets up to kiss us on top of our heads. One kiss, two kisses. Be good. I push my hand through the cot to hold on to her white coat, but she pulls it away all sharp, so I bang my wrist. I suck on where the bang is.

The door to the room opens. Boom.

Ah, heres the cleaner, says Mummy, shell be company for you. Tomorrows the weekend, so Ill see you on Monday.

She opens the glass door to our Box with a klyak, and then goes out of the door to our room, making another boom. We can hear the cleaner outside our Box, banging her bucket about, but we cant see her through all the white swirls painted over the glass. When she comes into the Box to clean, we see its Nasty Nastya.

What are you looking so glum about? she says, splishing her mop in the water. Shes flipped her mask up because Nastya doesnt care if we get her germs and die.

Mummys gone home all weekend, is what, says Masha, all low.

Shes not your yobinny mummy. Your mummy probably went mad as soon as she saw you two freaks. Or died giving birth to you. That there, whos just left, is one of the staff. And youre one of the sick. She works here, you morons. Mummy indeed

I put my hands over my ears.

She is our yobinny mummy! shouts Masha.

Dont you swear at me, you little mutant, or Ill knock you senseless with the sharp end of this mop! We go all crunched into the corner of the cot then, and dont say anything else because she did really hit Masha once, and she cried for hours. And Nastya said shed do something much much worse, if we told on her.

When shes gone, we come out of the corner of the cot into the middle.

She is our mummy anyway, says Masha. Nastyas lying like mad, she is, because shes mean.

I sniff. Of course shes our mummy, I say.

Then one of our nannies comes into our room with our bucket of food. She puts it down with a clang on the floor outside the Box, and we both reach up with our noses, and smell to see what shes brought. Its our Guess-the-Food-and-Nanny game. We cant see her, but the smell comes bouncing over the glass wall and into our noses, and its whoever guesses first.

Fish soup! Masha laughs. And Aunty Dusya!

I love it when Masha laughs; it comes bubbling up inside me and then I cant stop laughing.

Fish soup it is, you little bed bugs, calls Aunty Dusya from outside the Box. Then she clicks open the glass door and comes in with our bowl, all smiling in her eyes.

Open up. We both put our heads between the bars with our mouths wide open, to get all the soup one by one spoonful each.

Nyet!! shes getting the fish eyes, I saw, I saw!

Now hush, Masha as if I pick out the nice bits for her.

You do, you do I can see, I can!

Dont be ridiculous. Its hard to hear Aunty Dusya because shes got her mask on, like everyone. Except Mummy, whos got the same bugs as us. And Nastya, when shes being mean. And stop gobbling it down, Masha, like a starving orphan, or youll be sick again. Yolki palki! I dont know any child at all for being sick as often as you. Youre as thin as a rat.

Im thinner than a rat, says Masha. And Dashas fat as a fat fly, so I should get the popping eyes!

I dont know what a rat is. We dont have them in our Box.

Whats a rat? I ask.

Oooh, its a little animal with a twitching nose and bright eyes, that always asks questions. Heres your bread.

I want white bread, not black bread, says Masha, taking it anyway.

Youll be asking for caviar next. Be grateful for what you get. Were always being told to be grateful. Every single day. Grateful is being thankful for being looked after all the time. Ill come back in half an hour to clean you up, and then lights out.

Masha stuffs her bread into her mouth all in one, so her cheeks blow out, and looks up at the ceiling as she chews. We know all our nannies names off by heart. And all our cleaners too. And all our doctors. Aunty Dusya says only special people can see us as were a Big Secret. She says it has it in black writing on the door. I dont know why were a Big Secret. Maybe all children are Big Secrets? Masha doesnt know either.