tied up outside the shop when Dunham had appeared . . .
He opened the tin of dog food and put it into Reggae’s dish. She sat obediently, waiting for Josh to release her, salivating at the thought of dinner.
‘Give me five,’ Josh said. Reggae held out her right paw. Josh shook it. ‘Now the other five.’ Reggae held out her left paw. ‘Good girl. Go.’
Reggae charged over to the bowl and started eating noisily.
Josh told her about his day, and about his second tutorial with Yvonne. ‘If anyone can teach me, she can.’
He decided Reggae didn’t need to know about his encounter with Dunham. It would just worry her.
He just wished he knew what Dunham had found so amusing.
Chapter 19
Josh wasn’t sure how he was going to get to sleep. He’d been lying in the dark for hours already. His room was like a steam bath. And his mind kept going back to his encounter with Dunham . . . and his ‘joke’.
Thinking about Dunham reminded him of Kearney. Yvonne hadn’t brought it up again, but he knew she was unhappy with what Josh had done. And if he was honest with himself, it didn’t sit well with him either. It had left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t like to think of himself as a bully. He wasn’t! But that meant he owed Kearney an apology.
He checked the Velux window again. It was open as far as it could go. But without any other window there was no chance of a through draft of cooler air, and so the room, just under the roof still hot from the day’s sun, just would not cool down.
He glanced at the digital clock. Midnight. How
was
he going to go to sleep? He took out Yvonne’s MP3 player. Maybe “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” would do the trick. He was in the middle of Act 2. This was his third go through the whole thing. He was finding that even the speeches that at first had seemed like a foreign language to him were now making sense.
Josh fumbled with the player in the dark. The sound of a rap artist came through the headphones. For a moment he was confused. Then he realised it was a radio station. He fiddled with the dial, rapidly passing through traditional music, pop music, French conversation. Then he found something which was familiar. Reggae. Josh settled into the pillow and started to relax. His mother used to play music like this to him at night. Marley, Toots and the Maytals, Jimmy Cliff. He’d always thought she did this to put him to sleep. Though as he listened now, he realised these songs were about as far away from lullabies as you could get, with their heavy beat and rousing words.
Suddenly, he realised his mum
hadn’t
played reggae at night to put him to sleep. She’d played it because
she
liked it. There was something she’d called herself . . . what was it? A white rasta! That was it!
He still found it hard to imagine his white rasta mother and Calum were brother and sister. Calum did like fiery music like his mum . . . but for Calum, it was traditional fiddlers playing at a hectic pace.
But strangely, listening to the reggae
did
make him feel tired. He closed his eyes and a memory popped into his head: how his mother would sit by his bed, talking to him, and the way, when the music moved her, she’d stand to dance, even in the middle of a conversation or story. He could almost see her small body swaying and bobbing alongside his bed, as sleep claimed him.
* * *
‘In the morning,’ Josh explained to Yvonne as they walked to school, ‘I found my headphones on the pillow. Actually your headphones. They were playing something completely different. I hope the reggae wasn’t a one-off.’
They were approaching the school now. People were being dropped off from cars, and walking towards the gate from every direction. A sea of green uniforms.
‘It may be a regular show. You can look up the station’s schedule on the web. But you still have to listen to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”.’
‘That’s no problem,’ Josh replied. ‘I
He opened the tin of dog food and put it into Reggae’s dish. She sat obediently, waiting for Josh to release her, salivating at the thought of dinner.
‘Give me five,’ Josh said. Reggae held out her right paw. Josh shook it. ‘Now the other five.’ Reggae held out her left paw. ‘Good girl. Go.’
Reggae charged over to the bowl and started eating noisily.
Josh told her about his day, and about his second tutorial with Yvonne. ‘If anyone can teach me, she can.’
He decided Reggae didn’t need to know about his encounter with Dunham. It would just worry her.
He just wished he knew what Dunham had found so amusing.
Chapter 19
Josh wasn’t sure how he was going to get to sleep. He’d been lying in the dark for hours already. His room was like a steam bath. And his mind kept going back to his encounter with Dunham . . . and his ‘joke’.
Thinking about Dunham reminded him of Kearney. Yvonne hadn’t brought it up again, but he knew she was unhappy with what Josh had done. And if he was honest with himself, it didn’t sit well with him either. It had left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t like to think of himself as a bully. He wasn’t! But that meant he owed Kearney an apology.
He checked the Velux window again. It was open as far as it could go. But without any other window there was no chance of a through draft of cooler air, and so the room, just under the roof still hot from the day’s sun, just would not cool down.
He glanced at the digital clock. Midnight. How
was
he going to go to sleep? He took out Yvonne’s MP3 player. Maybe “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” would do the trick. He was in the middle of Act 2. This was his third go through the whole thing. He was finding that even the speeches that at first had seemed like a foreign language to him were now making sense.
Josh fumbled with the player in the dark. The sound of a rap artist came through the headphones. For a moment he was confused. Then he realised it was a radio station. He fiddled with the dial, rapidly passing through traditional music, pop music, French conversation. Then he found something which was familiar. Reggae. Josh settled into the pillow and started to relax. His mother used to play music like this to him at night. Marley, Toots and the Maytals, Jimmy Cliff. He’d always thought she did this to put him to sleep. Though as he listened now, he realised these songs were about as far away from lullabies as you could get, with their heavy beat and rousing words.
Suddenly, he realised his mum
hadn’t
played reggae at night to put him to sleep. She’d played it because
she
liked it. There was something she’d called herself . . . what was it? A white rasta! That was it!
He still found it hard to imagine his white rasta mother and Calum were brother and sister. Calum did like fiery music like his mum . . . but for Calum, it was traditional fiddlers playing at a hectic pace.
But strangely, listening to the reggae
did
make him feel tired. He closed his eyes and a memory popped into his head: how his mother would sit by his bed, talking to him, and the way, when the music moved her, she’d stand to dance, even in the middle of a conversation or story. He could almost see her small body swaying and bobbing alongside his bed, as sleep claimed him.
* * *
‘In the morning,’ Josh explained to Yvonne as they walked to school, ‘I found my headphones on the pillow. Actually your headphones. They were playing something completely different. I hope the reggae wasn’t a one-off.’
They were approaching the school now. People were being dropped off from cars, and walking towards the gate from every direction. A sea of green uniforms.
‘It may be a regular show. You can look up the station’s schedule on the web. But you still have to listen to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”.’
‘That’s no problem,’ Josh replied. ‘I
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