ball and brings it back? And after a while the owner gets bored of the throwing and the retrieving so he pretends to throw the ball and he doesn’t actually throw it, but the dog’s so stupid that it runs for what it thinks is the ball anyway . Even though there’s nothing there. Just thin air.’
She carried on scowling, ‘You’ve got it wrong,’ she said. ‘You mean the boy who cried wolf. That’s the fable.’
I shook my head. My brain rattled. ‘No. Not that story. This is a different one. In this story, the next time the owner throws the ball he does actually throw it and the dog still appears to have faith in him because he runs just as readily, except, this time, when the dog returns with the ball and the owner reaches out his hand to take the ball away, this time, the dog won’t hand it over. He clamps his jaws together. He won’t give it up. He’s making his feelings clear about the little deception of earlier. That’s all.’
Saleem’s expression turned from derision to perplexity. ‘Phil,’ she said, ‘I think you might be a little concussed. You’re babbling.’
I was sad again and vulnerable again but I was still determined. ‘No . I’m making perfect sense.’
‘You’re talking shit, Phil. It sounds like perfect sense to you because your head has taken a knocking, but in fact it’s only drivel. Trust me on this one. Wait a minute.’
Saleem closed the door and left me on the doorstep for a short duration. When she reappeared she was clutching a couple of folders, a carrier bag and her front door keys.
‘I’m going to take you home.’
‘I don’t want to go home. I want to talk to Ray.’
‘I can’t think Ray’ll want to talk to you right now. You’re nonsensical. Come on. Home. Walk with me.’
Saleem grabbed hold of my bad arm and she yanked it. It felt like it might snap. It groaned, the way a big ship groans and whines when it’s being launched for the very first time. I gave in and staggered along beside her.
‘We’ve got to calm that brain of yours down a little bit,’ she said, as she walked. “This place is like a sodding war zone.’
‘You don’t see the plants and the grass and the trees fighting,’ I said, trying to get back my previous state of equilibrium, ‘only people.’
‘Say another stupid thing like that,’ Saleem whispered, ‘and I’ll put my fucking fist in your mouth.’
I’d imagined things would feel better horizontal but I was wrong. I was flat on my back, on my sofa. My feet and ankles were slung up and over the arm. Saleem had insisted that I lie this way. It was extremely uncomfortable. Saleem herself was in my kitchen, cooking.
‘I’m going to feed you and feed you,’ she yelled through the kitchen’s open doorway, ‘till your stuffed up like a rooster.’
After ten minutes she came through holding a tray. On the tray was a plate which was full of a brown, glutinous substance, slightly fried. ‘Sit up and eat this shit.’
I sat up, dutifully. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s brain food.’
‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘Only enough there for one serving, you lucky devil.’
Saleem handed me the plate and a fork. I sliced into the brown stuff and swallowed a mouthful. It had a meaty, metallic taste to it. I ate another mouthful. I chewed briefly and swallowed, i s this liver?’ I asked, forking up some more.
Saleem grinned, ‘Nope.’
‘I tastes like liver.’
Saleem scratched the tip of her stump and hopped over to peruse a photograph on the mantelpiece of my dead aunt with my dead grandparents posing on the beach at Southend.
‘Remember this morning?’ she asked, her back to me, ‘when you got dragged in by Nancy and your nose started bleeding?’
‘Yes.‘
‘Remember when Doug came down and you had that giant piece of jelly dangling from your nose?’
‘Yes.‘
‘At the time if kind of reminded me of black pudding. While I watched you pull it out I wondered how it would taste if it was gently
She carried on scowling, ‘You’ve got it wrong,’ she said. ‘You mean the boy who cried wolf. That’s the fable.’
I shook my head. My brain rattled. ‘No. Not that story. This is a different one. In this story, the next time the owner throws the ball he does actually throw it and the dog still appears to have faith in him because he runs just as readily, except, this time, when the dog returns with the ball and the owner reaches out his hand to take the ball away, this time, the dog won’t hand it over. He clamps his jaws together. He won’t give it up. He’s making his feelings clear about the little deception of earlier. That’s all.’
Saleem’s expression turned from derision to perplexity. ‘Phil,’ she said, ‘I think you might be a little concussed. You’re babbling.’
I was sad again and vulnerable again but I was still determined. ‘No . I’m making perfect sense.’
‘You’re talking shit, Phil. It sounds like perfect sense to you because your head has taken a knocking, but in fact it’s only drivel. Trust me on this one. Wait a minute.’
Saleem closed the door and left me on the doorstep for a short duration. When she reappeared she was clutching a couple of folders, a carrier bag and her front door keys.
‘I’m going to take you home.’
‘I don’t want to go home. I want to talk to Ray.’
‘I can’t think Ray’ll want to talk to you right now. You’re nonsensical. Come on. Home. Walk with me.’
Saleem grabbed hold of my bad arm and she yanked it. It felt like it might snap. It groaned, the way a big ship groans and whines when it’s being launched for the very first time. I gave in and staggered along beside her.
‘We’ve got to calm that brain of yours down a little bit,’ she said, as she walked. “This place is like a sodding war zone.’
‘You don’t see the plants and the grass and the trees fighting,’ I said, trying to get back my previous state of equilibrium, ‘only people.’
‘Say another stupid thing like that,’ Saleem whispered, ‘and I’ll put my fucking fist in your mouth.’
I’d imagined things would feel better horizontal but I was wrong. I was flat on my back, on my sofa. My feet and ankles were slung up and over the arm. Saleem had insisted that I lie this way. It was extremely uncomfortable. Saleem herself was in my kitchen, cooking.
‘I’m going to feed you and feed you,’ she yelled through the kitchen’s open doorway, ‘till your stuffed up like a rooster.’
After ten minutes she came through holding a tray. On the tray was a plate which was full of a brown, glutinous substance, slightly fried. ‘Sit up and eat this shit.’
I sat up, dutifully. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s brain food.’
‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘Only enough there for one serving, you lucky devil.’
Saleem handed me the plate and a fork. I sliced into the brown stuff and swallowed a mouthful. It had a meaty, metallic taste to it. I ate another mouthful. I chewed briefly and swallowed, i s this liver?’ I asked, forking up some more.
Saleem grinned, ‘Nope.’
‘I tastes like liver.’
Saleem scratched the tip of her stump and hopped over to peruse a photograph on the mantelpiece of my dead aunt with my dead grandparents posing on the beach at Southend.
‘Remember this morning?’ she asked, her back to me, ‘when you got dragged in by Nancy and your nose started bleeding?’
‘Yes.‘
‘Remember when Doug came down and you had that giant piece of jelly dangling from your nose?’
‘Yes.‘
‘At the time if kind of reminded me of black pudding. While I watched you pull it out I wondered how it would taste if it was gently
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