Whistling For The Elephants Part 4

The friends.h.i.+p wasn't going that well. I was still too different. I went and looked in the sitting room. On a nest of tables a small, strange-looking goldfish was making its way erratically across the waters of a crystal bowl. It was strange-looking because it couldn't swim straight. It tumbled pathetically through the water.

'It's the way they're bred.' Sweetheart came quietly up behind me. 'It's called a tumbrel. They are bred and rebred to encourage the spine to curve unnaturally. It's a fish freak. Here, look.' Sweetheart took a small pocket mirror from her bag and held it down into the bowl. The tumbrel stopped its b.u.mbling course and seemed to stare at the mirror for a moment. Then the ridiculous fish turned painfully and swam awkwardly back where it had come from.

'Donna Marie called me a freak,' I said.

'Curvature of the spine. That's what's wrong with it. They say goldfish only remember things for a few seconds.' Sweetheart laughed. It was the light sound of a small bird.

'I used to know a man called John Junior who knew all about animals. He used to say goldfish would be a nightmare for a fish doctor. You'd have to keep on telling the tumbrel it was sick, because it wouldn't remember. Of course if the doctor was a goldfish as well the whole thing would take for ever.' Sweetheart pretended to play both parts but her light voice made the two indistinguishable. 'I'm afraid, Mr Tumbrel, we have bad news. Oh no! Yes. I'm afraid, Mr Tumbrel, we have bad news. Have I already told you this? We have bad news. Oh no! Yes.'

Sweetheart looked at me and put her hands on my shoulders. 'I once knew a man called Fred from Chicago. He had a very strange throat. Kind of wide. It didn't look right. I guess he was a kind of freak. He changed his name to Monsieur Cliquot from Paris and took up sword swallowing. Eventually he could swallow an electric light bulb connected to an eight-volt battery while juggling and made a lot of money. I knew a bearded lady too but she was never very happy. Really she wanted to be a bareback rider but she could not get the hang of it. The lovely Madame Josephine Clofullia from Switzerland.'

'Did she really have a beard?'

'Of course.' Sweetheart winked at me so I wasn't sure. 'She finally did get to work with horses but it didn't go well. John Junior, he had shows all over the country. He put her in the Western Wonder Show of the World with Stupendous New Equine Features, but she sued him.'

'Why?'

'It only had one horse in it. That always made Phoebe laugh. She said Madame Josephine had no imagination. The taking of Troy was a one-horse show and that was pretty spectacular.'

I remembered. 'Phoebe. In the wheelchair. And John Junior - the big man?'

'Yes.' Sweetheart looked at me. 'How do you know that?'

I blushed. I was sure I shouldn't have been there. 'The big house... there's a picture... I saw it.

Sweetheart sat down on a plastic-covered chair and smiled at me. I plumped down on the floor in front of my new friend.

'I forgot about the picture. That day! The day the painter came, the noise was unbearable. I think he was quite a distinguished artist as well. If you can imagine the collective noise of a giraffe, a bunch of lions, several tigers, a leopard, a polar bear, a.s.sorted hyenas and a sea lion making their way home from the train station after a long day's journey then you might have it about right. The poor painter. He did his best but the giraffe ran off and got entangled in the garden paG.o.da. It stuck its head through the top and proceeded to drag the entire thing toward the house. It caused havoc with the rhododendrons. Phoebe was crying with laughter. All the time John was shouting to her, "Look what I brought you! You told me to get you a souvenir from Africa. Look!" Not that there weren't enough animals already. He just kept bringing more.'

'Did you know him - John?'

Sweetheart stared into the fish bowl. 'I sure did. It was a long time ago. John Barton Burroughs Junior. He was a good man. Rich and bored, but he was a good man. He built that house for his wife.'

'Phoebe?'

'No, Phoebe was his sister. Billie. Billie Blake. Of course, that's not the house in the picture. That was the old Burroughs House. It was nice too, just not grand like the new one. It was square, red-brick, nothing fancy. Billie p.r.o.nounced it "a thoroughly reliable, respectable and dull building", so John built her a new one.'

'The house of love,' I said. Sweetheart looked surprised, but I wasn't a trainee spy for nothing.

'Yes, the house of love. Whatever Billie wanted. They had the money then... 'twenty-six or 'twenty-seven ... must have been nineteen twenty-seven, before the Crash anyhow.'

'What was wrong with Phoebe?'

'Polio, and then I guess she was always weak. You see...

Judith tottered into the room, patting her hair. 'There you are. What are you two doing in here? I've been looking everywhere.'

'I was telling Dorothy about the old Burroughs' house.'

Judith looked at Sweetheart for a moment and didn't say anything. She glanced at Pearl's picture and gave a slight shake of her head.

'Yes, well, I never go there any more.'

'You should,' said Sweetheart.

Judith gave a little jiggle of her head. The weight of hair made the move work its way right down to her feet.

'Look, Sweetheart, you know it makes Harry uncomfortable, and.., yes, well, Dorothy, you kids could eat now. We'll wait for the men, of course, but you kids could start.'

It was two hours before the men returned from the fire. Donna Marie, Eddie Jr and I had burgers but the women waited for the men. Judith fussed over everything while we munched.

'The men will be hungry. We had better save as much food as possible, don't you think? Eddie Junior, another cheeseburger? Men eat a lot anyway, don't they, but after tonight... well, they will have been doing men's work.' Judith sprayed the side of the ketchup bottle with disinfectant and polished it with a cloth. Men's work? I couldn't imagine what Father would be doing.

Sweetheart got everyone another drink but no one else moved. Aunt Bonnie was still on the lawn with a can of beer. She had made a little necklace out of the beer-can tabs. Sweetheart went and sat on the porch swing with Mother.

The women's abstinence from food turned out to be pointless. In fact, the men returned fully sated. The fire had been at the General Amherst Restaurant. Once they had realized it was out of control, the brigade of boys had fanned the flames round the kitchen to roast all the meat in there and enjoyed the biggest cook-up the town had ever seen. They came back full, filthy and pumping with their own virility. Even Father had a smudge and had loosened his tie. Harry steamed into the yard and plunged his hand in the iced garbage can. He threw a beer at Father who, always alert to unexpected bouncers, grabbed it deftly. To my surprise he opened it and began to drink without asking for a gla.s.s.

'Hey, great catch, Charlie.'

Joey Amorato arrived with Eddie. He was the last of our immediate neighbours. Joey was really small for a man. Small and wide. I knew if I grew up to be a man, which I knew I wouldn't, but if I did, then I would look like Joey. Not that I would want to, but life isn't fair. He wore light brown pants and a matching work s.h.i.+rt but it had been some time since either one had seen a was.h.i.+ng machine. Apparently it was because he lived alone and his mother had died. No one said why he couldn't do it himself. The s.h.i.+rt was tucked into Joey's pants but it protested at every b.u.t.ton. His belly hung like a precipice over his work boots, which had also seen years of service. There was a popular men's hairspray ad on TV at the time announcing, 'The wet head is dead. Long live the dry look.' Joey hadn't heard about it. He was going bald with some speed. What was left of his hair was greased back into a DA you could fry an egg on. I'm trying to think of good things to say about Joey. He smiled a lot, which was good because he had no chin to speak of. His face kind of fell off at the smile, but at least the smile was a good finish. I don't know how old he was. Everyone was just a grown-up. I think he went to school with Judith, which would have made him her age, but he was so short that he looked like a man who wasn't done with growing yet. Anyway he was whatever you are when you're more than thirty and not dead yet. - Donna and Eddie Jr went back inside when Joey arrived.

'Hey, it's the dog catcher,' yelled Eddie Jr as he ran inside. 'Bet you can't catch me.'

Joey laughed uncertainly. 'Kids today,' he said to no one in particular. 'Looking great, Judith,' he mumbled as she pa.s.sed him a drink. She gave that giggle again which I thought really let her down.

Harry laughed. 'You cruising my wife again, you dumb schmuck?'

Joey looked down at what he could see of his feet. 'No, no.'

I knew the kids didn't like Joey. He had been bitten by a dog as a boy and the close of those canine jaws had determined his whole life. A life dedicated to revenge. I had seen him in his dog-catcher van. He drove with intense purpose, stopping only to carry out his duties or dust the framed photograph on his dashboard. It was a picture of himself with Vice-President Hubert Humphrey, taken at a whistle-stop tour in the '64 election. The VP's train had made an unscheduled halt in Sa.s.saspaneck and Joey had been the only member of the local administration anyone could get on the phone. I wondered where dog catcher put him on my Chinese list. Stray dogs were number 7, but I wasn't sure about people who spent time with them.

On his day off, Joey shot rats on the waterfront with a rifle. If he was in a bad mood he would just stun them with a BB gun and finish them off with large rocks. The gun fired little plastic pellets and he had once winged the Good Humour Ice Cream man by mistake, but everyone balanced this up with his useful function of keeping down the rodent population.

The men began drinking heavily and the women fussed around them. No one ate the huge steaks which withered on the grill. I went to watch TV in the house but the others wouldn't let me have a say about the channel. After The Brady Bunch and Bewitched I came out. Only the women were still in the yard. Mother was sitting with Sweetheart. Aunt Bonnie sat on the gra.s.s smoking and Judith was sewing on a canvas chair. Judith was in the middle of one of those adult conversations which stops the minute a kid appears.

'Harry won't even read her letters. I mean Pearl-'

Everyone looked at me.

'Where's Father?' I asked.

'The men are dealing with a dangerous smell in the house.' Aunt Bonnie giggled.

'We're doomed, doomed,' intoned my mother in a false Scottish accent. I knew instantly. Drunk, the lot of them.

I went in to find my sensible father. In the kitchen Uncle Eddie, Father and Harry were sitting among floorboards.

There was a terrible smell in the room. They had taken up the entire floor and Harry and Father were now taking turns looking under it with a torch. Joey had actually climbed down between the joists and was yelling into the darkness.

'It ain't here. I swear it ain't comin' from here. Ain't nothing here.'

'So anyway,' Father's faint voice pushed itself forward, 'I served under General Ha Ha Splendid Shepherd.'

'Get out of here.'

'No really. Ha Ha Splendid Shepherd. He absolutely adored fighting. Used to plunge into the thick of the action with the cry, "Ha ha, splendid! Lots of fighting and lots of fun." Anyway we were due to attack this particular bridge and we knew the b.l.o.o.d.y Jerry had called for reinforcements. So you know what he did?'

'What?' slurred Joey.

'Sent them a telegram.

'Who?' Harry was having trouble following Father's near-mute story.

'The Germans. Ha Ha Shepherd sent the Germans a telegram pretending he was the German colonel, saying don't worry about reinforcements, I've already taken the bridge. So they never came. It was brilliant. Fabulous chap. I remember his first officer was captured and he sent him a pair of wire cutters disguised as a ham bone.'

Harry punched Father on the arm, the way men make friends. 'You served in the war?'

Father tried to stand and salute. 'Certainly did. Royal Horseguards, Major Kane at your service.'

'G.o.d d.a.m.n.' Harry beamed. 'Corporal Shlick, sir.'

The men went off into a World War Two reverie. Through the kitchen door I could see Rocco. He was still sporting my hat and was now lying in a pool of his own devising. He looked at me and chose that moment to emit an explosion of wind so astonis.h.i.+ng that it almost lifted him off the parquet, and bounced the hat over one ear. The noise brought Uncle Eddie to the surface.

'Dorothy, do you smell gas? We think we smell gas.'

'I think it's the dog,' I replied.

'The dog!' The men fell about laughing and went back to poking the nether parts of the Schlick house. I stepped over the boards and went and looked at Rocco. By the time I got there he had stopped moving entirely. I knelt down and looked at him. Nothing moved. Not even wind. Under my dark blue cap'n's hat, I was pretty sure he was dead.

It struck me as tricky news. I looked at a small embroidery which advised me to Look on the Bright Side and wandered back to the kitchen.

'Mr Schlick,' I began. Father looked over a beer can at me. He was filthy.

'Ah, my lovely daughter Dorothy,' he slurred. 'You know, in our family we only ever send the boys to school but with Dorothy it took ages to make up our minds.' This remark was apparently hilarious. The men fell about, quite literally, with the result that Harry slipped down through the widest gap in the floorboards. He landed next to Joey, who had fallen asleep beside a pipe. Joey's stomach rose and fell like a beached whale mindful of the j.a.panese hunting fleet. I looked down at Harry. I decided I didn't care if I was rus.h.i.+ng the plate.

'Your dog's dead,' I said very clearly. The sober voice among drunks.

He blinked at me. 'What?'

'Your dog. Rocco? He's dead.'

Harry looked at me for a moment and then dug his elbow into Joey. 'Hey, Joey, wake up. My G.o.dd.a.m.n dog's dead.' Joey blinked back to life for a moment. His greased locks had fallen over his eyes and he couldn't see real well. 'My dog's dead,' repeated Harry.

'I am a dog catcher. I am the dog catcher,' replied Joey with what dignity remained. 'If the dog is dead I do not need to catch it.' His head fell back on his chest.

'Stupid schmuck,' said Harry, attempting to climb from beneath the floor. 'This is so wrong,' he muttered as Eddie and Father nodded but did nothing. 'So wrong. I am the G.o.dd.a.m.n Mayor and I should not be lying next to a G.o.dd.a.m.n dog catcher who won't catch the G.o.dd.a.m.n dog. Judith!' he bellowed. In seconds she was at his side, followed by the other women. Even Mother had made it to her feet. Harry looked at his wife.

'Judith, the G.o.dd.a.m.n dog has died and Joey won't catch it. Tell him to catch it. You and he are so G.o.dd.a.m.n close, you tell him.' It was perhaps not the best way to break the news. To put it mildly, Judith fell apart.

'Don't say that. You don't mean it,' she cried over and over and over. Mascara streamed down her face. Aunt Bonnie patted her on the back and lit a cigarette. Mother decided it was a good time to be helpful and fainted. Father, who had been having something close to a good time, was mortified. He tried to bring Mother round and then he tried to lift her. Meanwhile Harry was in the hall, shaking the clearly deceased Rocco. Sweetheart stood beside him just crying silently. It was mayhem. Father simply could not lift Mother and began to feel faint himself. Aunt Bonnie took him outside to cool off, which left Judith hysterical. Joey woke up and, not knowing what had happened, leaped to Judith's defence.

'What happened, what happened?' he yelled. No one said anything so I said: 'Judith is upset because Harry.

That was as far as I got. Joey heard the words 'Judith', 'upset' and 'Harry', turned around and punched Harry. Judith screamed and for reasons I will never understand grabbed me and began crying on my shoulder. Everything was a little confused after that. In the end it was Uncle Eddie who carried Mother back across the road. Eddie was so strong, it was nothing to him. He salvaged her. We had to go out the back way as no one liked to move the dog. I think Sweetheart helped Mother to bed.

I sat in the Schlicks' sitting room with Judith, waiting for her to calm down. She sobbed for a long time but it dripped right off the plastic covers. When she calmed a little I tried to be helpful.

'I loved that dog,' she said. 'He was my baby.'

'Yes,' I said.

'I don't know how I'm going to say goodbye to him,' she moaned.

We had never stayed anywhere long enough to have a pet so I wasn't sure either.

'Maybe we could have a funeral,' I suggested hesitantly. 'So you could say goodbye. We had one for Father's mum and Mother said it made her feel great.'

'Oh, Dorothy, do you think we could? Would you help me?' I didn't know why she was asking me but I couldn't think why not. I shrugged.

'Sure.'

'You must be such a comfort to your mother. If my Pearl was here she would have helped me.' This notion set her off again. Then Harry came in with a steak on his eye and I decided it was time to go. Back at home I sat up waiting for Father. I guess he had been in the Schlicks' yard all that time. When he finally came in he went straight to his papers in the dining room. I went to talk to him. I had a lot of questions. It had been a very different evening for everyone. Maybe it was a good time to talk.

'Father?' I started.

'Hmm,' he said, not looking up.

'Why did Harry treat Judith like that?' I asked.

'Like what?' His head snapped up. 'Whatever he was doing it is none of our business.'

'But he was hurting her at the barbecue and it wasn't nice. I know everyone had had a lot to drink but...' Father looked closely at me.

'What's happened to your accent?'

'Nothing,' I mumbled, trying to remember how to say the word 'nothing'.

'Well, keep it that way. While I am delighted you are having the full American experience I would appreciate it if you left some of the more unpleasant vowels at the front door.' It was a very long sentence for him. He looked back at the table and carefully began to open a new letter from the British Library. I backed away and went out into the front yard. It was obviously not a good time to ask about funerals.

It was still warm out and the cicadas were clicking away in the night air. The Pontiac gleamed in the moonlight. It was so powerful and sleek-looking. I didn't think about it. I went inside and took the keys off the hail table. It was an automatic car. There was nothing to it. I sat on the very edge of the seat, peering over the steering wheel, slipped the car into R for reverse and pulled out into the street. I drove up to the Dapolitos' and past them to the Yacht Club, turned around and went back down to the stop sign. I didn't think about anything. Just drove round and round in circles. Travelling and not arriving.

Chapter Six.