plastic finish that just look strange and lurid and three-dimensional until you tilt them and discover another picture behind the first. You can make it look as if Mary is bringing her hands up to pray, or Jesus is blessing
you, or that the angels are crying. To me it feels as if everything has been tilted to reveal this whole other picture which has existed, just out of sight, all along.
I keep trying - over and over, because I can't switch it off, can't fool myself into numbness with meaningless activities - to imagine what he would say; how he might have reacted if I had come back to a house with him in it, and said, 'John, I saw the most terrible thing today. You won't believe what I saw, let me tell you what I saw.'
'Hold still, Alice,' Ann scolds, gripping Alice's shin between her knees. Her mother has placed her up on the kitchen counter. She's trodden on a bee and got stung in the soft, blue part of her foot. Yet again. 'How many times have we told you not to go barefoot in the garden? How many?'
Alice shrugs, sobbing. It's the shock more than the pain, really. Although the pain is quite astonishing, shooting up way beyond her knee, making her foot swell up so that the ankle bones disappear into the flesh like raisins into cake mix.
Alice would really prefer Elspeth to be doing this, but she's not sure where she is. As soon as it happened, she'd started screaming, Kirsty had run into the house shouting, 'Mummeeeeeeee, Alice has stepped on another beeeeeeeeeee!' and Ann had come rushing into the garden, scooped her up and deposited her here in the kitchen.
'Put your foot in the water.' Ann had filled the basin next to Alice with cold water. Alice, for a reason unfathomable both to her and to Ann, refuses. 'Put it in, Alice.'
'Where's Granny?' she manages to say between sobs. She sees her mother 's face fall slightly, twitch downwards. Then Ann rights herself, seizes Alice's ankle and forces her foot into the water. Alice lets out a piercing shriek and thrashes her foot about. Both of them get soaked. They grapple and
9 3
Ann manages to pin both of Alice's arms to her sides. When Alice is fully immobilised, Ann says, through gritted teeth, 'If you don't put your foot in the water, the swelling won't go down. If the swelling doesn't go down, we can't get the sting out. If we can't get the sting out, it won't stop hurting. Why do you never do as I ask?' Alice struggles again in her mother's arms. Ann squeezes her all the tighter and leans all her weight on the child's body. 'You won't be told, will you? You're just like your bloody father.'
The words, barely audible, are vicious and fly from Ann's mouth like hornets. Even aged eight, Alice is surprised. She looks out of the window at her father's silhouette, bending over, digging holes in the flower border down the side of the house. He is trailed by the diminutive figure of her younger sister, who drops bulbs into the holes from a brown paper bag held in their father's hands. 'Good girl,' he is saying to Beth, 'that's very good.' Alice feels a heat emanating from her mother's face, clamped to hers because of their fight, and she turns to see her mother pressing her teeth down into her lip, a rush of sudden blood staining her pale cheeks.
Ann lets go of her, but she sits still, not crying now, letting her mother search her footsole for the sting. Alice is aware something has happened, but she doesn't know what exactly. Is her mother upset· because she asked for Elspeth? She wants to ask her mother this but can't think of the right words to say it. Ann is silent, her head bent, her hands gentle now. Alice gets a funny, liquid feeling under her ribs. She wants to say she's sorry, she's sorry for being naughty, she's sorry for asking for Granny. She would like her mother to press her hands to her hot, clammy face.
Ann straightens up triumphantly. 'There!'
She lifts Alice down and holds out the sting for her to see. They peer at it together. It is tiny, spear-shaped, brown
you, or that the angels are crying. To me it feels as if everything has been tilted to reveal this whole other picture which has existed, just out of sight, all along.
I keep trying - over and over, because I can't switch it off, can't fool myself into numbness with meaningless activities - to imagine what he would say; how he might have reacted if I had come back to a house with him in it, and said, 'John, I saw the most terrible thing today. You won't believe what I saw, let me tell you what I saw.'
'Hold still, Alice,' Ann scolds, gripping Alice's shin between her knees. Her mother has placed her up on the kitchen counter. She's trodden on a bee and got stung in the soft, blue part of her foot. Yet again. 'How many times have we told you not to go barefoot in the garden? How many?'
Alice shrugs, sobbing. It's the shock more than the pain, really. Although the pain is quite astonishing, shooting up way beyond her knee, making her foot swell up so that the ankle bones disappear into the flesh like raisins into cake mix.
Alice would really prefer Elspeth to be doing this, but she's not sure where she is. As soon as it happened, she'd started screaming, Kirsty had run into the house shouting, 'Mummeeeeeeee, Alice has stepped on another beeeeeeeeeee!' and Ann had come rushing into the garden, scooped her up and deposited her here in the kitchen.
'Put your foot in the water.' Ann had filled the basin next to Alice with cold water. Alice, for a reason unfathomable both to her and to Ann, refuses. 'Put it in, Alice.'
'Where's Granny?' she manages to say between sobs. She sees her mother 's face fall slightly, twitch downwards. Then Ann rights herself, seizes Alice's ankle and forces her foot into the water. Alice lets out a piercing shriek and thrashes her foot about. Both of them get soaked. They grapple and
9 3
Ann manages to pin both of Alice's arms to her sides. When Alice is fully immobilised, Ann says, through gritted teeth, 'If you don't put your foot in the water, the swelling won't go down. If the swelling doesn't go down, we can't get the sting out. If we can't get the sting out, it won't stop hurting. Why do you never do as I ask?' Alice struggles again in her mother's arms. Ann squeezes her all the tighter and leans all her weight on the child's body. 'You won't be told, will you? You're just like your bloody father.'
The words, barely audible, are vicious and fly from Ann's mouth like hornets. Even aged eight, Alice is surprised. She looks out of the window at her father's silhouette, bending over, digging holes in the flower border down the side of the house. He is trailed by the diminutive figure of her younger sister, who drops bulbs into the holes from a brown paper bag held in their father's hands. 'Good girl,' he is saying to Beth, 'that's very good.' Alice feels a heat emanating from her mother's face, clamped to hers because of their fight, and she turns to see her mother pressing her teeth down into her lip, a rush of sudden blood staining her pale cheeks.
Ann lets go of her, but she sits still, not crying now, letting her mother search her footsole for the sting. Alice is aware something has happened, but she doesn't know what exactly. Is her mother upset· because she asked for Elspeth? She wants to ask her mother this but can't think of the right words to say it. Ann is silent, her head bent, her hands gentle now. Alice gets a funny, liquid feeling under her ribs. She wants to say she's sorry, she's sorry for being naughty, she's sorry for asking for Granny. She would like her mother to press her hands to her hot, clammy face.
Ann straightens up triumphantly. 'There!'
She lifts Alice down and holds out the sting for her to see. They peer at it together. It is tiny, spear-shaped, brown
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