Grace McCleen - The Land of Decoration

To begin with, there would be Father and Mother and me. I know Mother will be in the Land of Decoration, because God has promised to bring the dead back to life if they were faithful, and Mother is dead, and she is the most faithful person I know. They still talk about her in the congregation, about what an example she set, about how she died, about how she trusted. Margaret still has a dress Mother made for her, and Josie has a shawl.

I’ve tried so many times to imagine meeting Mother, but all I have are odds and ends. I know, for instance, that she had brown hair and eyes like me. I know she smiled a lot, because she is smiling in most of our photos. I know that she liked making things. But after that I have to use my imagination.

In my perfect day, it would be one of those days when you wake up to sunshine, with nothing to do and all the time in the world to do it in. This day would be like a bubble floating past your window. It would be like opening your hand and it landing right in your palm, the light touching it the way it does, so that only the surface seems to be spinning and the inside of the bubble is perfectly still.

The day would begin with Mother and Father and me having breakfast, and as we ate I would tell Mother all about my life in this world and how I had been looking forward to seeing her, and she would tell me what it was like to be dead and how she had been looking forward to seeing me. Then I would show her the things I have made with the things she left, and she would shake her head as if she couldn’t believe it, she would hug me, and then we would go outside.

It would be one of those days when everything shimmers and the world is made up of jostling pieces of light. The air would be warm and smell of summer and the hedges would be filled with cow parsley and butterflies. There would be dandelion clocks and crane flies and dragonflies darting and stopping quite still in the air. There would be a field leading down to a river with grass long enough to wade through and a few flowers and some trees, and in the distance maybe the sea. Mother would take one of my hands and Father would take the other, and it would be difficult to believe it was really happening, because I had imagined it so often, but I would have to believe it because it would be true.

We would go walking in the field. There would be lots of different sorts of grass, and the grass would get inside our shoes and the cuffs of our trousers and inside our socks. And there would be a shaggy dog with one ear up and one ear down and he would bounce ahead of us. He would race ahead, and on this most perfect of days I would be able to whistle and bring him back.

But Father doesn’t approve of dogs because he says they carry germs, so we would keep the dog away from him.

Then my mother would point and over the way there would be a Ferris wheel and music. But Father doesn’t approve of Ferris wheels and fairgrounds, because they are dangerous and they are a Waste of Money, so Mother and I would go alone.

We would ride on the dodgems and shoot down the slide. And when we came home, there would be fish and chips for tea, and the chips would be fluffy and squidgy, and the fish would fall apart in moist flakes, and the batter would crunch when you bit it and then it would ooze, and Mother and I would eat with our fingers. But Father doesn’t approve of fish and chips, so for him I guess there would be bitter greens or something.

And there would be television. This might seem a strange thing to have in paradise, but I like television. Father says television is softening to the brain, but he needn’t watch it, Mother and I could, when the stars came out, in a gypsy caravan which would be our home now, with blankets pulled over us and a fire crackling outside and sausages on sticks and black-currant punch. And I have forgotten the main thing! Which would happen earlier: There would be a hot-air balloon.

One summer day when Father and I were in the back garden, a balloon came over. It was like a creature from the deep sea. I saw the shadow pass over, I heard the flaring, and I wanted to go where those people were going so much.

Yes, there would definitely be a hot-air balloon and we would take a ride. Or perhaps just Mother and I would, because Father doesn’t approve of hot-air balloons either. He says they’re dangerous and if anything happened to you in one of them there would be No Chance. He means if it exploded in the air, you would get fried or plunge to your death. But I think the feeling of flying would be worth the risk.

I DON’T KNOW what Father’s perfect day would be like. I expect it would be full of Necessary Things like Bible study and preaching and pondering and Saving Electricity and Being Quiet and Wasting Not Wanting. In which case he has his perfect day all the time.

Or perhaps his idea of a perfect day vanished a long time ago and he has forgotten how to imagine a new one.

ON MONDAY NEIL looked at me and whispered a word which sounded like “blunt.” Mrs. Pierce looked up as he turned round. She said: “Neil, if you would like Judith to help you with your arithmetic, you can ask her. You don’t need to whisper.” Then Neil looked as if he would like to murder someone. He bent his head over his desk.

Mrs. Pierce said: “ Do you need help, Neil?”

Neil’s fist tightened on his pen.

Mrs. Pierce said: “I’m sorry, Neil. I didn’t hear you. Was that a ‘yes’?”

Neil flung down the pen.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Neil,” said Mrs. Pierce. “No one is going to laugh if you are struggling. Would you like some help?”

Neil sat up so suddenly, the chair screeched on the floor.

“All right,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Then you’ve no need to bother Judith, have you?” She raised an eyebrow at me, then went back to her marking.

Everything was quiet for about fifteen minutes, then something whizzed past my head and clattered to the floor.

Mrs. Pierce looked up. “What was that?”

“A ruler, Miss,” said Anna.

“Whose is it?” Mrs. Pierce said.

Lee spluttered: “Neil lost it, Miss!”

“Judith took it!” Gareth said.

Lee said: “She can do magic, Miss.” There were guffaws and giggling.

Mrs. Pierce turned to me. “Judith, did you take Neil’s ruler?”

“No, Miss.”

“What is your ruler doing by Judith’s desk, Neil?”

“I don’t know, Miss,” said Neil.

“You can’t remember why you left your ruler there?”

Neil scratched his head and looked round. Everyone laughed.

Mrs. Pierce said: “Really, Neil, I’m getting quite worried about you. On Monday you lost your bag. On Tuesday you told me you had lost your shoes. This morning you can’t remember where you left the ruler you were using a few seconds ago. If this goes on, you should think about seeing a doctor.”

Everyone laughed again and Neil scowled. “Pick up your ruler, Neil,” said Mrs. Pierce. Neil came to the table and picked up the ruler. As he straightened he looked at me and his eyes were sleepy and slow, full of something I couldn’t name.

AT LUNCHTIME I walked around the edges of the buildings, looking for things for the Land of Decoration. I collected five different weeds, three wrappers, two can tops, a straw, and half a plastic Kinder egg case, in which I planted the weeds. I showed them to Mrs. Pierce because she was on playground duty. “Are these for the model world in your room?” she said, and I nodded.

“I’d love to see the things you’ve made,” she said. “Could you bring some in for me?” I said I would. Then I went to the toilets to water the weeds.

I was leaning over the sink when I heard a slippery sound, looked up, and saw a black jacket in the mirror. I didn’t have time to see any more, because hands were dragging me toward the toilets and my legs were scrabbling on the floor. Someone said: “See if God can help you now, bitch!” My head knocked against the toilet bowl; my nose was burning, and water was filling it.