peered forwards into the darkness and saw the bed. It was an olden-days bed, with four wooden posts. It must have plummeted down from the floor above when the ceiling fell in. Had there been someone asleep in it? What a surprise they must have got. Lucy had gone right up to it and taken pictures, but Jonah had kept back. It was just too spooky, with its mattress, blankets and pillows all tidy, as if it was still in use. These were all his worldly goods: in the middle of the woods, these were all the worldly goods, of the Yonghy-Bonghy … Trying to silence the chanting voice in his head, Jonah looked away from the bed and over to where they were heading, the patch of light in the far wall. He whispered to Raff to follow right behind him, and stepped over a big piece of carpet, noticing the noughts and crosses pattern. The rubble rose and fell, sometimes steeply, and he had to keep peering down to check each step. He noticed two ping pong balls, pale, like giant pearls. To his right loomed the Wendy house. She’d taken a picture of that too. ‘Such a dear little house, Joney, and it’s like those Russian dolls, it’s a baby Broken House inside the big one.’ Behind the Wendy house was a piece of concrete pipe. He’d crawled into it last time, but she’d been too big. Now his feet slid among a heap of books, mainly open, like fallen birds. Among the books were more ping pong balls, and a toy train, and a Monopoly board. Further along, a baby doll, one-armed, face down – yes, he remembered that doll, and the feeling of wanting to turn it over, to see its face. He was aware of the bed, over on his left, but he kept his eyes on the ground in front of him. Then they were there, below the hole in the wall that used to be a window. The board that had once covered it was propped against the wall underneath, providing a slope up to what had been the windowsill. It would have been quite easy for Lucy, or any adult, to take a couple of big steps up the board, but it was a scramble for the boys. Raff scraped both his hands on the rough brick ledge, and Jonah hurt his knee. Out in the narrow space between the Broken House and their back wall, they examined their injuries and dusted themselves down. Then they surveyed the wall, which was surprisingly high from this side.
‘How does Mayo get over it?’ said Raff.
Jonah looked at the kitchen chair that had been positioned against the wall to their left. The back of it was broken, but the legs and seat looked in good shape. ‘Like that,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
They got on the chair together, and Jonah gave Raff a leg-up before hoisting himself up. They sat on the wall, their legs dangling against the warm brick, looking down at the familiar cracked concrete, the bright flowers, the gold bike, the corduroy cushion and the watering can. He got down first, lowering himself until he was hanging from the top of the wall by his fingers, letting go and remembering to bend his knees as he landed. Then he helped Raff down, and they let themselves in through the back door.
The house was really smelly now, much smellier than the Broken House, and there were lots of fat, black flies. Jonah propped the back door open and opened up the windows, so that fresh air would come in. Then he went to the bin and opened it. The stench hit him full in the face, and he quickly closed it again.
‘I’m thirsty,’ said Raff. Jonah picked a glass up off the draining board, rinsed it and filled it, water splashing on the dirty plates piled up in the sink. He passed it to Raff, and then opened the drawer that Lucy kept the incense sticks in. He took two sticks out of the open packet and the box of matches. Raff glugged the water down and put the glass back on the side. ‘I’m hungry.’
Jonah opened the fridge. He saw a mustard jar, a lime pickle jar, a tomato ketchup bottle and a bunch of slimy spring onions. They really needed to go shopping. Jonah felt cross with her for a moment. Then he remembered his certificate, and pulled it out of his school bag. ‘Look.’
‘I saw you get it in Assembly, dumbhead.’
Jonah found a space for it on the fridge door, amongst the photographs and postcards and all the previous certificates.
WELL DONE, JONAH!
In recognition of your excellent work
on your local history project.
He stood back, and ran his eyes over the photos. They went back to when he was a baby, and even before. There was the one of Lucy in a bikini, which he didn’t like, though at least she had her bikini top on. It had been taken long before he was born, and she was thinner, and her bosoms – no, boobs – looked even bigger, and she was thrusting them out, with her hands on her hips. Her lips were blowing a kiss to the photographer, who was presumably Roland, but it was difficult imagining her being like that with Roland.
‘What special dinner are the Martins having, anyway?’
‘Roast chicken.’ Jonah stared at young Lucy’s face, trying to imagine her being in love with Roland. They had met on a yoga holiday in Egypt. The photo might even be from that holiday, although Lucy had been ill for most of it. Roland had heard her in the night, in the bathroom, moaning, and he’d looked after her. He skimmed all the photos again, looking for Roland. There was one of him when he was maybe a teenager, with his arm around Rusty, his dog. Rusty was looking at the camera, and Roland was looking at Rusty, so it was his profile you could see, with his long knobbly nose and his quiff.
The only other photo with him in it was the one of their wedding day. The two of them, standing on some steps, Roland in a suit, and Lucy in a strange blue dress with a white collar. He was smiling, but she looked serious. She was slightly turned away from him, even though they were holding hands, and you could see her bump, in which a little tadpole Jonah had been swimming around. About a third of the photo had been torn off. Presumably because it showed Bad Granny.
The photo next to it was of Raffy, Baby Raffy, only just born, his stripy monkey toy in his tiny fist. Jonah had given him that monkey, in the hospital. Lucy had been sitting up in her big bed, and someone had lifted him onto her lap, and put the bundle that was Raff on his lap, and Raff’s fierce little face had gazed up at him. Everyone had been amazed at the way he held the toy. ‘What a strong baby! What a strong little baby!’ Jonah got a match out and lit both incense sticks.
‘Maybe there’s some sweets left.’ Raff was looking at the Advent calendar, which was high up on the fridge door, fastened with four magnets at each corner. They’d made it together last year, with pieces of red and green felt. It had twenty-four pockets sewn onto it, and the word ‘Christmas’ across the top. When Christmas was over, Lucy had said she was so proud of the calendar she couldn’t bear to take it down.
Jonah and Raff stepped forward together and dipped their fingers into the pockets. No sweets any more, they’d gobbled them all up, but Lucy’s fountain pen was in pocket number 17.
‘That’s what she was writing with. In the garden,’ said Raff, snatching it from him. Jonah nodded. It had been a present from Dora, along with the heavy, thick-paged book.
Brighter today.
‘Where’s her diary?’ He turned, his eyes scanning the messy room.
‘Here’s her keys.’ Raff used the pen to fish them out from between two piles of dirty plates. Jonah took the keys and looked at her elephant key ring. She was always forgetting her keys. The elephant reminded him of his painting of Ganesha, and the little wise eye. The sweet smell of the incense was filling the air. He put the keys down on the table and noticed the calendar, and the changes he’d made that morning. The first two weeks still so clean and bare, but now, with his dark blue additions, the third and fourth row were looking untidy. He squinted at the word beginning with C, and tried to
