Klara and the Sun(84)
Only when I was standing over it did the nature of the reflective object become clear. Mr McBain – or one of his friends – had left leaning against the wall at this spot several rectangular sheets of glass, stacked one upon the other. Perhaps Mr McBain was finally planning to do something about his missing walls, and perhaps hoping to create windows. In any case, I could see reflected inside the glass rectangles – I estimated seven in all, propped up almost vertically – the Sun’s evening face. I stepped closer still, almost speaking the words out loud.
‘Please show your special kindness to Josie.’
I stared at the glass sheets. The Sun’s reflection, though still an intense orange, was no longer blinding and as I studied more carefully the Sun’s face framed within the outermost rectangle, I began to appreciate that I wasn’t looking at a single picture; that in fact there existed a different version of the Sun’s face on each of the glass surfaces, and what I might at first have taken for a unified image was in fact seven separate ones superimposed one over the other as my gaze penetrated from the first sheet through to the last. Although his face on the outermost glass was forbidding and aloof, and the one immediately behind it was, if anything, even more unfriendly, the two beyond that were softer and kinder. There were three further sheets, and though it was hard to see much of them on account of their being further back, I couldn’t help estimating that these faces would have humorous and kind expressions. In any case, whatever the nature of the images on each glass sheet, as I looked at them collectively, the effect was of a single face, but with a variety of outlines and emotions.
I continued to stare intently, and then all the Sun’s faces began to fade together, and the light inside Mr McBain’s barn grew dim, and I could no longer see even the triangle of Josie’s paperback, or the sheep stretching down their mouths towards the out-of-reach grass. I said, ‘Thank you for receiving me again. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to perform the service I promised to you. Please consider my request.’ But even within my mind, I spoke these words softly because I knew the Sun had departed.
* * *
—
In the days that followed, Dr Ryan and the Mother often argued in the Open Plan about whether or not Josie should go to a hospital, and although their voices collided – I could hear them through the sliding doors – they seemed always in the end to agree that such a place would only contribute to her misery. Despite this agreement, each time Dr Ryan came, they would go into the Open Plan and go through the discussion all over again.
Rick came each day, and took his turn sitting in the bedroom, watching over Josie, while the Mother and Melania Housekeeper rested. Both adults by this point had ceased to keep traditional hours, sleeping only when they became overwhelmed by tiredness. My own presence, though appreciated, was for some reason considered insufficient by itself, even though the Mother knew I was likely to spot danger signals before anyone else. In any case, as the days passed, the Mother and Melania Housekeeper became so tired it showed in their every movement.
Then six days after my second visit to Mr McBain’s barn, the sky grew unusually dark after breakfast. I say ‘after breakfast’, though by then all household routines had become so disrupted there were no breakfasts, or any other meals, being taken at their usual times. That particular morning the sense of disorientation was made worse by the sky’s darkness, and Rick’s arrival was one of the few things to remind us it wasn’t still night.
As the morning continued, the sky became ever darker, the clouds more dense, then the wind grew very powerful. A loose section of building started to bang at the rear of the house, and when I looked from the bedroom front window, the trees at the rise of the road were bending and waving.
But Josie slept on, oblivious, her breathing shallow and rapid. Midway through that dark morning, while Rick and I were together watching Josie, Melania Housekeeper appeared, her eyes half closed with tiredness, and said it was her turn to take over. I then watched Rick descend the staircase in front of me, shoulders heavy with sadness, and sit down on the lowest step. Deciding it best to give him privacy for a few moments, I’d gone past him and into the hall, when the Mother came out of the Open Plan. She was in the thin black dressing gown she’d been wearing throughout the night, which displayed the fragility of her neck, and strode past quickly as though in need of her coffee. But at the kitchen doorway, she turned and, noticing Rick sitting on the bottom step, stared at him. It took Rick a moment to realize the Mother was looking at him, but when he did he smiled with courage.
‘Mrs Arthur, how are you?’
The Mother went on staring at him. Then she said, ‘Come on in here,’ and disappeared into the kitchen. Rick gave me a puzzled glance as he rose to his feet. Although the Mother hadn’t invited me, I thought it best to follow behind him.
The kitchen appeared different because of the darkened sky outside. The Mother hadn’t switched on any lights and, by the time we came in, she was gazing out of the large windows towards the road she normally took to her work. Rick stopped uncertainly near the Island, and I myself paused at the refrigerator to give privacy. From that position, I was able to see the large windows, and beyond the Mother’s figure, the highway rising into the distance, and the waving trees.
‘I wanted to ask you something,’ the Mother said. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Rick?’