Bright Burning Things(79)

Tommy wraps his arms around his sides.

‘For all your talk of boundaries, you really don’t have a clue,’ I say.

He fixes his shirt collar.

‘Are you listening to me?’

His hand moves reflexively towards a worn spot on his jumper sleeve, his thumb circling.

‘I am asking you to leave.’

He makes no move. I look at Tommy, who’s kneeling, his arms around the animals. I speak softly.

‘David…’

He leans in closer. I know exactly what needs to be said and in what tone. Slow and deliberate, clearly articulated, space between each word.

‘We – Don’t – Want – You – Here.’

He draws back as if smacked. Something in his bearing has shifted. I have done it. It’s not the first time he has heard those words and they almost crease him in two. That flash of insight, almost blinding, and I see him as a boy, wearing someone else’s clothes. We don’t want you here. I have to stop myself jumping in there to make it better.

‘Sonya.’ He moves towards me.

I turn my face away.

‘You’re confused.’

‘No confusion.’ And it’s true: there are no warring voices, no conflicting impulses. There is no denying or minimising what happened. Instinct finally on track, intact.

‘I’m going to take Tommy for his shower, and by the time we’re finished I’d like you to be gone. Leave the key on the front table.’

‘You’re making a big mistake, Sonya. I will have to notify the authorities.’

A low humming sound buzzes in the air.

In front of my eyes, a spilling shadow, a shifting of form, of substance. I blink hard.

‘Yaya?’

‘It’s ok, darling.’

‘Sonya? Are you going to have one of your fits?’ David says.

I rub my eyes, turn to look at Tommy, who sticks his thumb in his mouth.

‘David, you know the authorities are never a good idea. You, more than anyone, should know that. You don’t want that route for Tommy.’

David puts his hand to his stomach as if to protect himself. All my creatures start to stir. I don’t try to stop them. I open my mouth to give full vent. They are silent, released peacefully. David looks about him, sensing a shifting in the atmosphere, confused. ‘Right, well…’ He goes to get his coat and bag, which are by the front door. ‘If you’re sure this is what you want.’ He stalls. ‘Not that you’re ever sure about anything.’

I pat Herbie, who’s making low grumbling sounds.

‘Bye, soldier,’ David says, saluting rather pathetically at Tommy.

Tommy looks at me. I bend to kiss him on the top of his head, remove his thumb from between his lips. David starts to thread his arm through the sleeve of his coat, which gets caught in the lining. I move to help him, then pull back.

‘If I leave now, you’ll never see me again.’

‘The key,’ I say, in a voice I wish I could have found with my father, with Lara.

He reaches into his pocket and throws it on the table. ‘I really hope you know what you’re doing, Sonya.’ He looks at me then, like that lost little boy. His voice is young. ‘You know where to find me.’

As he opens the door, a kind of turbulence, a sound of beating wings. He steps into the wake, following dumbly. At the gate he tries to wave but his arm seems weighted down. He turns again, shifts the bag on to his shoulder and walks away. ‘I only want what’s best for you,’ I think I hear him say.

I put my hand to the base of my throat and swallow easily. A lightness in my body. I look at his retreating back, and at the empty space around him. Another turning away, another ending, another failed relationship, yet more emptiness, a vacuum waiting to be filled. Or. Something else entirely. I find I wish him well. I really do.

I look at Tommy, who’s running around the kitchen chasing and cupping the light.

‘Sippies,’ he says, offering me his hands full of sunlight.





47


‘Happy birthday, darling boy.’

Tommy wakes, one eye still glued shut, and looks at me, sleep-crumpled.

I whisper, ‘Make a wish,’ and intertwine my little finger with his.

He screws his eyes tight shut; his lips move as he mumbles. I think I see the words Gandad, Yaya, Herbie, Marmie forming. Not a trace of the shape it would take to form the name David. The locks were changed last night, pushing me into overdraft, which I was surprised to find was still operating on my account.

‘Pull, Yaya,’ Tommy says, exerting pressure on my pinkie.

I lean in to him, kiss him on his cheek with my eyelashes. Think of the slogan: ‘Just For Today’. Just for today my little man will be prioritised. My every day will be made up of this daily mantra, that will be enough.

I track down the whereabouts of a dodgy party warehouse, call around the three main hospitals, locate my father. I walk the motley crew, feed them, stuff an invitation into my bag, then buckle Tommy into the back seat. We drive to the party shop first and stock up on sparklers, spinners, streamers, balloons. My body jangles when I find a box with ‘Catherine Wheel’ on the front. I pick it up, hold it, elation building, that hazy, happy childhood memory still tugging at me. I kiss the package. ‘Thank you,’ I say to the Woman Above. ‘Tommy, come here, this is Ms Friendly Fire Spinner I was telling you about. She won’t hurt anyone!’ He comes to me, holds the package, inhales, nods happily, a new light in his eyes.