Jamrach's Menagerie - Carol Birch [126]
But I couldn’t see it happening soon.
It was one morning, the sound of a concertina playing “Santy Anno.” Over the rooftops. Towards the river, towards the Highway. Winter and spring had gone, and the summer was full-blown. I went for a walk, following the sound, but I never found it or it took another direction, I don’t know. I just wandered about, stopping now and then to loll about and watch the river. I could still hear “Santy Anno” in my head, and it came to me that I must get myself a concertina and learn to play it. It came as something more than an idle thought, more like a kick, so that I almost jumped up there and then and ran for home to get some money and off to Rosemary Lane to pick up an old concertina. But it was so nice by the river watching a big clipper sailing in like a swan that I didn’t move. I could see the sailors moving about their business on the decks and in the rigging, and it seemed to me I could feel the deck beneath my feet, real as ever. There flashed across my eyes then, bright and startling, first a bleeding sunset more beautiful than a heart could bear; then an explosion of pink heart muscle throbbing in a bucket as the boat lurched high; and last: Tim, just as he always was, my daft friend. He was horrible to me sometimes, but I think he loved me. I was dreamy. I drifted home. I don’t know where the day went. The lateness of our yard surprised me. Ma’s shells were tidy on the windowsill, and David stood full in the window, smiling snot-faced at me. It was a lovely smile. It brought back that great wave of love I’d felt out there in the boat when I thought I’d never get back. Filled me right up. Terrified me. Oh, my London. All wasting. I am still here. I went in and straight upstairs and got into bed with all my clothes on and pulled the covers over my head and lay down in the dark. My heart was beating loud and scared in my ear that lay against the pillow. Long as I live I’ll never be wise. Never understand why it happened as it happened, never understand where they’ve gone, all those faces I see clear in the darkness. There’s no way out of this, it’s stark: live or die. Every given moment a bubble that bursts. Step on, from one to the next, ever onwards, a rainbow of stepping stones, each bursting softly as your foot touches and passes on. Till one step finds only empty air. Till that step, live.
There was a movement in my room, a little mouse creeping. I opened my eyes and stuck my head up from under the covers. It was Ma with a candle, half in and half out the door. “You coming down for a bite, Jaf?” she said.
I was going to say no, but said, “Is it ready?”
“Just about.”
She put the candle down and went away leaving the door open. I sat up and put my feet down on the floor and yawned till tears forced out from my eyes. I was cold. I went down to the fire and the food.
“Lovely bit of herring, that is,” Charley Grant said as I sat down. “Here.” He pushed the bread board towards me.
The herring was crusted with oats, fried brown.
“We were thinking,” Ma said, “you ought to start going out with Charl on the market some of these mornings. If you’re not doing anything else you might as well learn the ropes here.”
“Fine,” I said, but oh, my God, that night lying awake in bed, thinking: got to do something or I’ll end up living with Ma and Charley for the rest of my life and die on the fish stall. What’s the choice? Fish. Pot boy. I’d be quite a draw. The cannibal pot boy. Work at Jamrach’s again. Go back to sea.
Back to sea, I suppose.
Next day I went to see Dan Rymer. He must have done well over the years, one way or another. He had a big house in a fine terrace in a nice part of Bow, with a black railing at the front and steps going down into an area where a fat black and white cat sat meditating. The door was opened by a girl of about fourteen, aproned and bedraggled. “You’re Jaffy Brown,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I’d know you anywhere,” she said. “Never stops talking about you, he don’t. Curly hair, dark skin. Course it’s you.”
“Never stops talking about me?