Grace McCleen - The Land of Decoration

“It’s outrageous!” said May. She put her hands over my ears and mouthed to Father: “You could have been killed!”

Uncle Stan said: “Do you need anything? Do you want to stay with us for a while?”

Father said: “No, we’re fine. It’s all right now.”

Then Uncle Stan said: “When did this happen, John?”

Father said: “Friday night.”

Uncle Stan said: “You must be exhausted!”

“Yes,” Father said. “Pretty much.”

“Do you want us to come and give you a hand getting things straight?” said Margaret.

“No, no,” said Father. “It’s all taken care of.”

I suddenly realized everyone thought the fire had happened two nights ago and that Father hadn’t corrected them. No one knew about the fence either. Why didn’t Father tell them? Perhaps he didn’t want to worry them, I thought. But it was rather strange.

May shook her head. “Well, I hope the police find whoever did it,” she said. “They should go to prison.”

Father said: “You can’t depend on the police.”

“That’s right,” said Gordon, and everyone looked at him. If anyone knew about the police it was Gordon.

“Anyway, I know who did it,” said Father. “But apparently there’s not enough evidence.” Then he laughed. “They want me to install a security camera.”

Uncle Stan shook his head. “What’s the world coming to?”

“The Tribulation!” Alf shook his head.

Elsie hugged me. She said: “At least you’re safe.”

May shook her head. “I can’t bear to think of what might have happened.”

“Do you think it’s anything to do with the strike?” Stan said.

“Probably.” Father nodded. “I’m not exactly flavor of the month at the moment.”

I went out to the toilet and sat in a cubicle. It was cool there and quiet. I leaned my head against the plasterboard. I wondered what would happen if they knew I had done it all.

ON MONDAY EVENING a man with a briefcase and suit banged on the gate. I went and told Father, who I wasn’t sure had heard, and he said to let the man in. I slid back the bolts and turned the key and pulled the gate open. The man stared at me. I think he expected to see someone taller. “Come in,” I said. The gate crashed behind him and he jumped.

The man looked at the burned tree and the boarded-up window. He looked at the nailed-up door and the black earth and the broken bottles.

I led the way to the kitchen. Father was standing with his back to the Rayburn. The man touched his tie and said: “I expect you know why I’ve come, Mr. McPherson. You’ve received a letter from us expressing our concern about the existence of the fence and asking you to contact us as soon as possible.”

Father said: “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

The man said: “What’s wrong was explained very clearly in the letter: It’s an eyesore. It’s also extremely dangerous. People could get hurt.”

“That’s the point,” said Father.

The man looked at Father.

Father said: “Do you have any idea what we have been dealing with?”

“That’s none of my business, Mr. McPherson. Take it up with the police.”

Father said: “I’ve tried to take things up with the police. I’ve been trying for the last two months. There aren’t many options left open to me.”

“Well, I’m just doing my job.” The man straightened his shoulders. “And I’m afraid your neighbors want the fence to go.” He picked up his bag. “I’m going to go back to the office to make a report,” he said. “If they deem the fence unsuitable to remain standing, you’ll have to take it down; if that doesn’t happen, we’ll be issuing you a summons. Then it’s up to the magistrate to decide whether it stays or not.”

Father said: “Show the gentleman out, Judith.”

Suddenly the man started. I followed his eyes to the ax above the back door. The man looked at the ax. Then he looked at Father. Perhaps it was strange to have an ax above a door. I now wondered if Father would have put it there a few months ago; I wondered if he would even have built a fence. Or whether he would just have said: “Judith, trials are stepping-stones bringing us closer to God.”

The planning man and I went back through the hall, out the front door, and down the garden path. I undid the gate and watched him walk away.

The farther he went, the stranger I felt. “Wait!” I shouted, and ran after him.

He turned.

“Please let my father keep the fence!”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He began walking again.

“Can’t you make an exception?” I panted. “It’s not really dangerous, because no one climbs up it. If it gets taken down, I don’t know what Father will do!”

The man said: “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss this any further.” He began to walk faster.

“It’s so much better with the fence! We don’t get anyone knocking at the door anymore!” I said. “And no one starting fires! And no one vandalizing the cherry tree or putting things through the letter box. Can’t you let it stay?”

The man repeated: “I’m sorry.” He unlocked his car and swung into the seat. He slammed the door, looked over his shoulder, and pulled away from the curb.

“It’s not fair !” I shouted.

The car disappeared round the corner. The man had forgotten to put on his seat belt.

I SAT IN my window. “How much longer, God?” I said. “How much longer till Armageddon? I want it to come and put an end to everything.”

“It’s close,” God said. “Closer than you think.”

“You always say that,” I said. “They’ve been saying that for years.”

“Well, this time it really is,” God said. “If you could see the timetable I’ve got drawn up here, you’d see it truly is just round the corner.”

“Imminent?” I said.

“Exactly,” God said.

“But it’s been imminent forever!” I drew my knees into my chest. “I want it right now, right now—today! I don’t want to wake up in this world anymore.”

“Well, you might have to be a little more patient than that,” said God. “But I’m not joking: It really is very close.”

I took a deep breath. “What will it be like, God?” I said. “I mean afterward?”

“Oh, wonderful,” said God. “Everything you’ve always imagined.”

“No more sickness or hunger or death?”

“That’s right,” said God.

“And you’ll wipe the tears from people’s eyes?”

“Yes.”

“And Father and I will see Mother and everyone will live forever and it will be like it was in the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“And will I have a dog and will there be fields and trees and a hot-air balloon?”

“Oh, all of that,” said God.

“And will my mother like me?”

“I should think so.”

“Tell me how long, God!” I said. “Give me a clue, just a little one.”

“No one knows the day or the hour,” said God.

“Except You.”

“Yes … but it’s variable. I really couldn’t give you an answer on that at the moment.”

“Well, I’m ready for it,” I said. “Whenever it comes. It won’t be a moment too soon.”

WE WERE SITTING in the kitchen that night, reading about the end of Jerusalem, eating kippers and peas, when something thudded at the front of the house. Father’s eyes stopped moving in the middle of the page. They stayed where they were for a moment. Then they began moving again.

A minute later there was another bang, only this time it sounded as though someone had driven a car into the fence. We heard laughter—high-pitched, husky, and broken. Something passed through Father’s face and he pushed back his chair.