Just Joshua (5 page)

Old Mama Siska peered out from her doorway into the darkness. A light appeared from the back of the
butcher’s
house. Joshua’s father came into view, bearing a lamp which he hung on a hook above the shop door. He disappeared out of sight again, and when he returned with his son they were carrying something between them. Mama Siska’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. It was a wooden pig; a pig only a little smaller than the real ones that the butcher killed.

They put it down by the doorway. Joshua’s father patted its smooth flanks and looked up, eyes narrowed. His face relaxed into a rare smile. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it’ll look good up there, above the shop. I need brackets, and there are some long screws wrapped in newspaper in the tool box. Will you fetch them?’

When Joshua got back, his father was propping a ladder against the front of the shop. ‘Help me bring out the table,’ he said.

Together they dragged it out and lifted the pig up on it. His father screwed the pig’s feet into a plank.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Now, you stand on the table.’

Joshua climbed on the table and helped bear some of the weight of the pig as his father climbed the ladder.

‘Hold it still.’

It was difficult. Joshua’s arms ached and trembled. The carving seemed to take forever to fix. At last the brackets were secure and the screws tightened and the ladder and table were back in their places.

Joshua’s father produced a bottle filled with toddy. ‘Bring the glasses,’ he said.

‘The glasses?’ Joshua queried. They were for special occasions. They usually drank from tin mugs.

‘Of course. We have something to celebrate.’

His father filled his own glass, and then poured two fingerfuls for Joshua. They stood, glasses in hand, his father’s arm loosely around his shoulders.

‘To Pig!’ the butcher said, toasting the carving.

‘To Pig!’ Joshua echoed, raising his glass and taking a sip. He screwed up his face as the sharp alcohol bit the inside of his mouth and tongue. He handed the glass back quickly to his father, who laughed.

Father and son looked up at Pig in his place of pride, then went to bed, well pleased with their work.

‘I’m going swimming, Dad.’ Joshua put his head round the shop door the following afternoon.

‘Fine. But I want you back before sunset.’ His father didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading with deep concentration.

With a glance at Pig, silhouetted proudly against the sky, Joshua ran off to the sea.

When he got to the beach, Robert’s mother was there looking out at Leon’s old boat bobbing in the choppy water. Joshua spotted Robert’s dark head and
shoulders
, weaving and ducking as he baled water from the leaky boat.

‘He’s ignoring me,’ Robert’s mother complained to Joshua. ‘Will you go and tell him I need him home to chop wood?’

He nodded, staring at the patch under her armpits where sweat darkened the faded blue flowers of her cotton dress.

‘What are you looking at?’ she chided him. Her voice was rough but she held out an arm to him and he went and nestled against her, breathing in sweat and soap and the coconut oil she rubbed in her long plaited hair.

‘Are you my aunt?’ he asked suddenly.

‘No.’ She looked at him. ‘Why? Did you think I was?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Not really.’ He drew a circle in the sand with his big toe. ‘Have I got any? Aunts and uncles, I mean.’

This time she took more time to reply. ‘I’m not sure. I expect so.’

He looked up at her. He thought she was hiding something.

His gaze unnerved her. ‘Your mother’s family didn’t like her marrying your father. At least, I think that’s what happened. They never had anything to do with them after that. But you should ask your father about these things.’

‘Oh.’ He pressed closer to her, enjoying the feel of her fingers in his hair. ‘But you could be my aunt, couldn’t you?’ he asked dreamily.

Her fingers halted, then went on. ‘If you want me to be – well, yes.’

‘What was my mother like?’

‘Your mother?’ She thought for a moment. ‘She was fun. She used to make us laugh. She –’

‘Do I look like her?’ he interrupted.

‘Bits of you, yes.’

‘Which bits?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Your eyes, perhaps. Your mouth. You’re skinny like her, too.’ But she was getting
impatient
with his questions. ‘Now go on. Go and give Robert my message.’

He tore off his shirt and ran into the water, plunging through the breakers and out to the sea, kicking strongly, heading towards the boat. A gust of wind sent the boat swinging round on its anchor to face him as he approached. Two eyes, one painted on either side of
the raised bow to guard it from evil spirits, seemed to stare at him as he drew near. He looked back defiantly but then thought better of it and swam away in a circle towards the stern, to haul himself up where the eyes couldn’t watch him.

Robert was baling with an old jam tin, filling it with water and sending it overboard in an arc. ‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Your mother says you have to go home and chop wood.’

Robert pulled a face. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I heard her. I’ll go soon. She doesn’t need it till later anyway.’ He reached for a second tin stowed under the bows and handed it to Joshua.

Joshua looked back at the beach but Robert’s mother had gone. He took the tin. Together they dipped their tins in and out of the water in the bottom of the boat. The sun glinted off the bits that hadn’t rusted, and shone through the streams of water that tumbled back into the sea. They fell into a rhythm and Joshua hummed as they dipped and threw.

Once they were satisfied that the boat was dry, Joshua balanced on the bows and dived in among the bright shoals of angel fish that flitted through the water. Robert followed him. They scrambled back over the side and dived again, staying underwater for as long as they could hold their breaths.

‘I’m going in,’ Joshua announced, perched for his last dive, toes curled over the edge of the boat. ‘You coming?’

‘I want to stay a bit longer,’ Robert said. ‘Tell Mum I’ll be back soon.’

Josua shrugged. ‘See you,’ he said, and dived
overboard
, striking for shore. Back on the beach he shook the water from his hair, pulled on his shirt and set off to the point where the path ran inwards to the centre of the village. When he reached the bend that curved round the graveyard he could hear loud and ragged shouting somewhere up ahead. Chickens scuttled towards him, squawking in alarm.

Joshua wondered what was up. Nearer the clearing, he noticed a roughness in the sound of the voices and he slowed down. There was anger, and something else. He shivered despite the heat of the day.

All the men from the village compound seemed to be gathered in the clearing, their backs to him. They were jammed so tightly together that he could not see what the source of the trouble was.

Joshua retreated to the high, bulging root of a tree. He stepped on to it, clutching the scratchy trunk for support, trying to see over their heads.

The men were facing the shop, his father’s shop. They shuffled back a step or two in unison, then
tightened
up again. There was no shouting now.

A cardinal bird sang brightly just above Joshua’s head and he looked up for an instant as the flash of red caught his eye. When he looked back, he saw that his father had come out of the shop.

A voice spoke. Joshua couldn’t hear what was being said.

His father said something in response.

The crowd answered with a swelling noise that sounded like growling.

His father didn’t move.

A man at the rear of the crowd jerked back his arm and threw something. There was the sound of stone on stone as it hit the wall near Joshua’s father. Another missile followed.

His father! They were throwing stones at his father!

Joshua jumped down from the root. He ran to the back of the crowd and tried to push his way through, but they were packed so tight that he could make no headway.

‘Take it down! Take it down!’ the men chanted hoarsely.

Joshua took a few steps back and jumped to try to see what was going on now. His father was setting the ladder up against the shop front.

Joshua ran back at the crowd, braver all of a sudden. ‘Dad!’ he shouted. He butted one man he had seen throwing a stone. ‘Dad!’ he screamed. The man
stumbled and Joshua was able to squeeze past.
Clawing
and kicking, he worked his way through the crowd till he was nearly at the shop.

When they saw who it was, the last row parted in silence for him.

His father was at the top of the ladder and had reached the pig. He didn’t seem to have heard Joshua. He was fumbling at the brackets holding the pig in place. It was taking him far longer to unscrew them than it had when the two of them had fitted them together the previous night. A screw slipped from his hand and he tried to catch it. A stir in the crowd showed where it had fallen.

Joshua tried to catch the eye of the man beside him, and then the man next to that, but they stared ahead impassively. He turned to the person behind and nudged him. It was Simon. ‘Why …?’ he began, but when Simon looked down at him and Joshua saw the anger in his eyes, he fell silent.

The pig was free now. His father stood at the top of the ladder, cradling it in his arms, unable to move. Joshua knew how heavy it was.

‘Let me through!’ he shouted, his voice shrill.

Two men blocking the doorway to the shop stood aside for him.

Joshua went inside. He tugged at the wooden
butcher’s
table. It moved only a fraction. He tugged again. He
could see his father’s legs on the ladder outside. They were shaking slightly. He pulled again. A shadow fell on the floor. He looked up. A man stood in the
doorway
. It was Leon, Robert’s mother’s boyfriend.

Together they dragged the solid slab outside and set it next to the ladder. Now other men came forward to help. The tension in the crowd was punctured by words thrown out here and there.

‘We can’t have a pig up there,’ Leon explained, avoiding Joshua’s eyes. ‘It wouldn’t die, you see, and then it would destroy our fishing. We caught very little today because of it.’

Joshua had hold of the fore-trotters. Now he took some of the weight of the carving from his father. It was a sad burden. He and Leon carried it inside.

‘Sardines mostly, and not a lot of them,’ Leon continued.

‘Dad will keep it in here,’ Joshua told him, touching the pig’s head protectively.

Leon nodded.

Joshua watched his father climb down the ladder, tired and bowed and old as he had never seen him before. He carried the ladder round the corner of the shop and laid it on the ground. Then he turned to face the men, his back against the wall. Slowly they drifted away. He sank to his haunches, gazing blankly at the ground. Joshua squatted beside him.

‘It’s safe, Dad,’ he said. ‘I put it inside.’

His father didn’t respond. Joshua swallowed; he felt cold inside. He began to chatter, about Robert, about the dinghy, how choppy the water was that day,
anything
that he thought would distract him.

‘Psst!’ Robert’s head showed round the corner, a blur in the gathering darkness.

Joshua glanced at his father. He was still staring into space, and had made no sign that he had heard. Joshua sighed and got to his feet. He felt enormous relief as he walked round the corner of the shop to be with Robert.

‘Leon told me what happened,’ Robert said. ‘Were you very scared? Is your father okay?’

‘Yes.’ Joshua nodded. ‘At least, I think he is.’

‘Where’s the pig now?’

‘Inside the shop.’

‘Good. Leon says you mustn’t mind,’ he went on. ‘He says it’ll be all right again now the pig’s down.’

Joshua scowled. ‘What’ll be all right again?’

‘Well, you know,’ Robert looked embarrassed. ‘About your father.’

‘What about him?’

Robert hesitated.

‘What?’ Joshua asked again.

‘About him being a mountain man.’

Joshua was shocked. ‘It isn’t true.’

‘Only mountain men carve,’ Robert pointed out.

‘He’s from here, from the village,’ retorted Joshua.

‘But is he?’ Robert’s voice rose. ‘After all, he’s not a fisherman, is he? He’s a –’

Joshua glared. ‘Don’t say it!’

‘I wasn’t going to!’ Robert snapped. ‘I was going to say butcher. But he
is
different, he’s not like us. He must be a mountain man!’ he finished triumphantly.

‘He is
not
!’ Joshua said stubbornly.

‘Of course he is. You’ve only got to look at his hair. It’s straight. So’s yours.’

Joshua reached up and felt it. He knew his hair was straight, but the significance of it hadn’t occurred to him before.

‘Mine’s curly,’ Robert said. ‘And everyone else’s is too.’

Robert sounded so superior. Joshua didn’t like it. He flew at him, butting him in the stomach.

Robert gasped as the air was knocked out of him. He fell to the ground, bringing Joshua down with him.

Joshua tried to punch, but Robert was quicker and grabbed hold of his hands. Joshua struggled to free them, but couldn’t. One moment Joshua was on top. The next he suddenly found himself on the ground beneath Robert.