Bright Burning Things(77)

Jesus. My whole body is shaking. Such a terrible dream for someone so little, but then I think of my own livid nightmares, which used to have me hiding under my bed. It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok. Time will make all this go away. Time and stability. He needs to see that I won’t ever leave him again. It has to be good that Fireman Sam made an appearance at the end. Right?

‘That sounds like a really scary dream, darling.’

I clap the air around his head. ‘All gone away now. Remember I told you it’s all in the imagination?’ I brush his damp hair off his forehead.

He pushes me away.

‘And Fireman Sam saved the day!’

His eyes dart around him, not sure of anything.

‘You’re here now, Tommy, you’re here. This is real.’

He pinches the skin on the back of his hand.

‘Ok now.’ I gently stroke the red mark. ‘Look around you, Tommy, what do you see?’

He looks dazed. ‘The colour of creamy ice.’

‘What do you really see? Herbie, Marmie and Yaya, yes? We’re all right here.’ I speak softly.

He swats the air in front of his eyes. I take his hands in mine and kiss his fingertips.

‘You’re safe now.’

He looks at Herbie and Marmie, still sleeping soundly on the bed, and starts to breathe more evenly.

‘How about we get you ready for school and you can see Miss Maeve and paint another picture?’

‘No, Yaya, no. I won’t go.’

Exactly like I was at his age. I remember my father walking out of the room, saying: ‘Enough of the dramatics, we are leaving in twenty minutes, end of.’

‘Is this because of the bad dream?’ He shakes his head vigorously.

‘Ok, Tommy, how about I go with you?’

‘No no no no no no no.’

‘Why, Mr T? What happened yesterday? You can tell me.’

He continues shaking his head. Herbie stands unsteadily on the mattress, shakes himself off and pads over to Tommy, lies beside him and lays his big heavy head on his lap. Tommy leans in and hugs him, now inconsolable with grief, his whole body racked and convulsing.

‘Ok, darling. It’s ok. You don’t have to go today.’

He sniffs, looks at me.

‘Maybe you can tell me later what happened, ok?’

He clamps his lips tight. I’m not happy with that school anyway, that busybody, that cross, that image of distress, emblem of martyrdom. I’ll scout around, find somewhere close to my new workplace, wherever that might be, somewhere more progressive, Educate Together or something, although the thought of all those little people saying prayers together, words they couldn’t possibly understand, is strangely sweet. A room full of children imagining the Mother Mary in her pearly blue gown, with her luminous face, the babe in her arms. Their little nodding heads. Baby Jesus. Nod. I’m back in the room with the monstrous Mary, all those men, Jimmy’s bald head, up and down, up and down, clearing itself of its clamour. I look at my son. He is my priority now, and for ever.

‘What would you like to do today?’

‘Beach, Yaya!’

I’m relieved to see he’s got used to this question so soon. Surely other remnants of his chaotic conditioning can just as easily be undone. Such a clever little thing; an outing is exactly what we all need right now. Sea, sand, perhaps even a smile from Mr Sunshine.

I put on my swimsuit underneath my clothes, just in case the urge catches me.


In the car my phone starts to ring. An unidentified number, followed quickly by my father’s, then David’s. David calls and calls again, and again. The knocking sensation against my ribcage starts. I listen to my voicemail: Where are you?… Your father is worried… The school called him, wondering about Tommy… Call me…

Pulsing eyelids. Twitching extremities. Think of Jimmy: ‘Flooded with adrenalin, pissed with fear.’ Think of the glitter all over the floor, and in my hair, sprinkled on my cheeks. Think of how pretty I must have been.

I put the pedal to the floor. Careen and swerve my way to the beach. Crave the sea air, the smack of the salt. Space, perspective, that’s all. We tumble out into the car park, run as one to the water’s edge, Marmie careful not to get too close, myself and Tommy wading in, ‘Pull up your trousers, Tommy!’ – Herbie starts to whine. ‘Ok, old boy, ok,’ I say. ‘Mind Tommy, ok?’ – face towards the wide expanse of sea and sky. ‘Tommy, Yaya won’t be long; stay there with Herbie and Marmie, and don’t talk to any strangers, ok?’ He nods, I pull my dress over my head, and stride in. I look back, he’s waving, I wave back, then dive under: it’s been too long – this, this sensation I’ve been chasing, the cooling, the stilling. Head under, silence, a real silence, a calm, pure silence, down in the depths of me. When I emerge I check on my trio, all ok, waiting patiently, I turn on my back for a moment, just a moment, allow myself to float. The sea and sky are the same glacial grey, all as one.

I turn my head and see Tommy wading in towards me. Flip my body back over, move faster through the water than I ever thought possible. ‘Stop, Tommy, far enough.’ Herbie is howling. My son stops, waves at me. He splashes me as soon as I’m within reach.

‘Hey, what you doing, little man? It’s freezing!’

‘Splish-splosh, Walter Wave!’