Grace McCleen - The Land of Decoration

“Are you sure?”

I put my hand over my eyes. “Yes,” I said and made myself smile at him.

Uncle Stan said: “Oh, by the way, love, I wanted to ask you if your dad was all right. With the strike and everything, it must be pretty difficult at the moment. We’re all thinking about him, but he never talks much. Is he OK?”

“Yes,” I said. “But he’s annoyed about the knocking at the door.”

“What?”

“There are some boys knocking at our front door.”

Uncle Stan frowned. “Your dad hasn’t said anything about that. Nothing serious, is it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s what I was trying to tell you, about what I did to the—”

And then God said: “STOP!” so loudly that I jumped.

“What’s the matter?” said Stan.

And then I jumped again, because another voice said: “All right?” and I looked up and there was Father.

He and Stan began to talk and I slipped away. When I looked back, Uncle Stan had his hand on Father’s back. I hoped he didn’t tell Father I’d been talking about miracles. Then I jumped a third time, because two fat arms grabbed me and a voice said: “Gotcha!”

A whiskery face with a mouth like a slash and creamy bits of spit in the corners was grinning. “You’ve been avoiding me!”

“No, Josie! Honest!”

“Hmm.” She eyed me suspiciously, then shoved a parcel into my arms. “Present!”

“Thank you.”

“Well: Open it!”

“A poncho,” I said.

There were more shells, there were more tassels, it was more orange than I could have imagined.

Josie’s body shook with laughter. “Well, I know how you like these little things. I’m so busy making things for this one and that one, but I always find time to make you something extra special. Try it on! It should fit, but I made it a bit big to be on the safe side.”

The fringe brushed my ankles. “Just right,” I said.

“Why are you taking it off?”

“Keeping it for best.”

I looked back to where Father and Uncle Stan were talking. Uncle Stan was talking and Father was looking serious.

“I want to see you wearing it next Sunday,” she said.

“OK.”

“Come on, cheer up!” she said. “Don’t you like it?”

I looked back to Father and Uncle Stan and they were laughing. Suddenly the world was brighter. “Yes,” I said, “I do. Thanks, Josie, I like it a lot.”

THAT NIGHT THE letter box crashed again. I know that’s what it was because as I woke I heard the boys laughing and the gate spring shut. I got up and stood by the side of the window and looked through the curtains. I couldn’t see much without moving them, so I slipped into the other front bedroom.

Neil and Lee and Gareth were down below, with Neil’s brother Tom, who I sometimes saw at the school gates, and some older boys I had never seen before. When Father opened the door, they rode away. But they came back about five minutes later. One of the older boys was swigging from a can; the others were doing wheelies on their bikes and spitting on the ground. The phone rang in the hall, and I heard Father come out of the kitchen and the door slam behind him. The phone stopped, and then I heard him say: “Mrs. Pew!”

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. I’m dealing with it.”

He said: “Everything is being taken care of, Mrs. Pew. Please don’t worry.”

I was cold then, so I went to bed.

When the boys came back they shouted: “Where’s the witch?” through the letter-box slot and threw chippings at the upstairs windows. I felt the noise in my chest like a shower of red-hot pellets, and I wondered if this is what it felt like to be shot. I couldn’t lie there, because my body was on fire and I was shaking, so I got out my journal and wrote. But the noise went on so I put the journal away and sat against the wall. I sat there for a long time, until it was quiet in the street, until the hall clock struck twelve. Then I got up and opened the curtains.

It was very still and very bright. The full moon cast long black shadows from the houses and trees in the Land of Decoration. The shadows stretched right across the floor. I wondered what they reminded me of, and then I remembered that the graveyard in town looked like that when shadows fell from the headstones.

“God,” I said quietly, “why is this happening?”

“Well,” said God, “to Neil it looks like you’re the cause of all his problems at the moment.”

“I can’t help it if Mrs. Pierce doesn’t like him,” I said. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re God!” I said.

“But you got yourself into this.”

“ You did,” I said.

“No,” said God. “It was you.”

“But I’ve only done what You told me to do.”

“You’ve done what you wanted to do.”

“It’s the same thing,” I said.

“What?” said God.

“I don’t know!” I said. I began to feel hot. “I don’t know why I said that.”

I didn’t want to talk to God anymore, I didn’t want to be in my room anymore, I was afraid the cloud would come over me again like it did the day I made the snow, so I went to the door, but when I got there I couldn’t go out, and I sat back down. After a minute I went to the door again and this time I went down the stairs.

Halfway down, I screamed.

A figure was standing in the hall. The figure whirled round and Father’s voice said: “ What the —”

“You frightened me.”

“What are you doing up?”

“Nothing. I—I didn’t want to be in my room.”

He turned back to the front door. He looked like a boy with the moonlight catching the back of his head.

I couldn’t see any reason for him to be standing in the hall, so I said: “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

I suddenly wanted to say something to him very badly, but I didn’t know what. “Don’t worry about the boys,” I said.

“I’m not worried!” He turned and his eyes flashed.

“Good,” I said. “I was just checking.”

“Everything’s under control!”

“OK.”

“They won’t be back tonight anyway.” He sniffed loudly and put his hands in his pockets as if that settled it, but he continued to stand there.

I said: “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine! You’re the one who’s all bothered! You should be asleep! What are you doing up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, get back to bed.”

“OK.”

AFTER A WHILE the boys came back. I heard Father go out. He stood in the street and they rode around him, calling him names and spitting at him.

At last he came back in. I heard him open the front-room curtains and saw the light stream across the road. I heard a creak and knew Father had sat down in one of the wicker chairs. I didn’t understand what he was doing. Then I heard him begin to whistle, and I knew he was thinking good thoughts. The boys hung around for a while and then they went away.

FATHER SAYS WE should never underestimate the power our thoughts have to help us. He says that all we need is One Good Thought to save the day. I have a few good thoughts. These are some of them:

1) that the world is about to end,

2) that everything is actually quite small,

3) that I am in the Land of Decoration, having my perfect day.

The last is the best thought of all.

I HOPE THAT there are still things from this world left over in the Land of Decoration, because I am very fond of some of them. If I could have all of my favorite things in one day, that day would be perfect, and this is how it would be.