Authors: Lisa O'Donnell
The Death of Bees (21 page)
“Because everyone wears it and it will make your lips look sexier.”
“I couldn't give two hoots for what everyone else wears.”
“Fine, don't wear it but at least wear something cool.”
“What difference does it make what I wear? We're simply two chums going to see a movie. We don't need to spoil it with unreasonable demands.”
“Okay, wear what you like, I have to go, meet me at the cinema at seven and don't be late,” she commanded.
When I get home I discover from Marnie that Lennie set the kitchen on fire. He was making chips of all things and in the middle of the afternoon. He was in quite the state and apparently wandering around and telling the walls not to tell Joseph. Fortunately there wasn't too much damage and after a long nap he was back in the kitchen and cleaning the smoke from the walls. I have since checked the liquor cabinets for I fear Lennie's problems may originate from a more obvious source.
N
elly thinks Lennie is an alcoholic. I think she might be right. He set the kitchen on fire and if it hadn't been for the very organized fire extinguisher he keeps under the sink I think the place would have gone up in flames. I'm starting to worry for the old guy. He clearly has a problem.
Lennie's phone rang tonight but there was nobody, except there was. It was Robert T. Macdonald, I'm sure of it.
M
ate,” comes a voice.
“Yes,” I say.
“You're trying to get into my car,” says the voice.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“We've been neighbors two years and you don't know my fucking car. Give me a break.”
“Then where is my car?” I ask.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know, but that one is definitely mine.”
“Lennie?” comes another voice.
It's Marnie and someone else I can't quite place but she likes to whisper and if I reach far enough into my mind I can almost see her.
“Can we go home?” I ask them.
“Sure,” says Marnie.
“Take my arm,” says the other.
I take her arm.
“Good girl,” I say. “Let's go inside and have some tea.”
“Good idea,” says Marnie.
“Where are my keys?” I say.
“At the end of your wrist,” says Marnie.
I hand them to her. “Open the door,” I say.
She opens the door. I find Nelly. I know Nelly.
“I think he's been drinking,” Nelly says.
“I think you're right,” Marnie whispers. “Let's put him to bed.”
I am raised from the ground.
Jacket off. Shoes off. Watch on dresser. I fold into the duvet. A door is closed. I feel cold.
I
t was a beastly evening. Sharon Henry is a deceptive wayward type of a girl.
When I arrive at the cinema there are two chaps with her. Felix Murray and a brute called Sam, who I am given to understand is her boyfriend.
Pulling me to the side Sharon tells me I am to sit with Felix.
“Don't you fuck this up for me,” she says. “I like Sam and Felix is a good guy. So be nice.”
“Nice is as nice finds,” I remind her.
“Felix is a wee ride. Every girl in school would crush their knickers to be here.”
“I am not every girl in school,” I remind her.
“No you're not.” She sulked. “And what's with the violin?”
“I can't leave it at home.”
“Why?”
“Because I won't.”
“Oh whatever.” She sighs.
Felix was quiet for most of the evening. He told me he enjoyed my violin performance at Christmas, which I very much appreciated. Felix it seems is the sporty type, he likes soccer and whatnot. It was a mortifying experience truth be told with Sharon and her beau clambering on top of one another like two dogs. A spectacle they made of themselves, even if it was in the darkness. Felix was a true gentleman of course and was respectful of the space I'd placed between us. He even gave me his jacket, for there is quite the chill in a movie theater. Later we went to a café. We have Coke and ice cream. We don't speak for a very long time.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Hazelhurst Road,” I tell him.
“You like it there?” he asks.
“Very much,” I reply.
“And your folks, what do they do?” he asks.
“I live with my grandfather,” I tell him. “My parents are elsewhere,” I say.
“Elsewhere?” he asks.
“My goodness the questions you ask,” I snipe.
“I don't mean to pry, I'm just interested to know more about you.”
“Whatever for?” I ask.
“Well I like you, don't I?”
“You don't have to,” I tell him.
“No, I want to.”
Sharon and her gentleman friend enter and making a colossal noise I may add.
“Hey, Nelly, play something on your violin,” says Sam.
“I will do no such thing,” I say.
Sam speaks to a waiter.
“My mate here can play the violin really good; can she play for five minutes?”
The waiter turns to a fat chap leaning over a counter and reading a newspaper.
“Hey, Willie, this girl here wants to play the violin.”
“Aye awright,” says Willie.
“I will not,” I exclaim.
“Why?” says Sharon. “You're dead good and folk want to hear. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Very well,” I say and so I play.
As expected, the room goes silent and everyone is impressed. It's always the same. I often look to others while I play and can see a great deal from their faces. I see Sharon wishing to be anyone other than herself. I see Sam not caring about the violin at all, he just wanted to make me play and I see couples and groups of people all of them looking to share something special with one another, something to talk about and I see a lone soldier enjoying his coffee delighted to be surprised. I see Felix and the waiter and I see Willie grateful for the music and for a certain altering in his coffee shop. When I am finished everyone claps except Sam. Willie sends over four more Cokes. “On the house.” He beams. We are a popular table and Sharon loves it.
“That was amazing.” She smiles. “You're really good.”
Felix nods. He's a quiet chap, Felix.
“So Nelly,” Sam says, “your parents are on the dole, right?”
“Shut up, Sam,” says Sharon.
“I just want to know how she's all posh and that. I mean she's fuck all like Marnie, is she? You adopted or something?”
I throw the Coke at him. I'd had enough of his tomfoolery.
“My sister and I are most certainly of the same blood. You blighter.”
I am surprised when Sam starts to laugh. “She is fucking mental.”
“Young man, I am leaving. Felix, it was a pleasure.”
“Stay,” begs Sam. “I'll get you another Coke. You can throw it at Sharon.”
“No she can't,” says Sharon.
Felix, a gentleman through and through, asks if he can walk me home.
“No thank you. I know my way from here.”
“Nae luck, Felix,” goads Sam, and I feel badly then. I did not mean to slight Felix in any way. He was a fine young man and kept his hands to himself. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't.
“I suppose you can accompany me a little of the way,” I tell Felix.
“Thanks.” He beams and leaps to my side.
It is an awkward journey home and I am relieved he has something to say. He talks at length as regards his pursuits and plans for the future. He is not yet fifteen years of age and I wonder if I should have plans for my future. We decide to walk by the park. This is where he attempts to kiss me. I turn my head and give him a cheek. He seems disappointed. I suddenly kiss his cheek. He looks uncomfortable.
“Shall I play for you?” I suggest.
He shakes his head.
“No, that would be weird,” he says.
He walks me as far as the bus stop on Byres Road. I have no intention of catching the bus, but I want to be rid of the chap and I imagine he feels the same.
“It was nice meeting you, Nelly,” he says.
“You too,” I say.
He hovers a little, as if he wants to say something else, but changes his mind and walks away with his hands in his pockets. I feel glad he's gone and then I feel sad, mostly for my violin. He said he liked to hear me play.
When I get home I want to speak with Marnie for I have a great many questions as regards the evening, but instead I find her holding up Lennie, who is as drunk as a skunk, and so we took him to his room before the neighbors were alerted.
Putting Lennie to bed was a lot like putting Father to bed and I can't deny feeling somewhat disappointed. Lennie is a man in his seventies and no spring chicken. It was utterly vexing. He's been an undoubted fool of late and I am thoroughly disgruntled. A beast he has unlocked within me and so I pull at his shoes and smack them to the floor. We did not remove his trousers. I left Marnie to remove his shirt. I couldn't face it. We did not steal his money either. He is not Father and doesn't deserve it.
I
t was the one place no one had looked. The garden shed. It wasn't even hidden. It was in a tool bag on a shelf next to tins of paint and broken flowerpots. A bag full of money. I wondered if Izzy had found it next to Gene's bed before she suffocated him. I wondered if Izzy had taken it with her to the shed before she hanged herself and then I didn't wonder at all. It was abandoned cash, and as far as I was concerned it belonged to me.
I decided to hide it at Lennie's. It would be safe at Lennie's. At first I hid it in the most obvious of locations, the attic, but then I worried I wouldn't be able to get to the attic in time if we had to make a quick break for it and so I hid it in the basement; this was a great hiding place, but again I worried about getting to it quickly and so I hid it in the wardrobe in the room Nelly sleeps in, but if Nelly found it I'd have to explain where it came from. It's actually difficult hiding bodies and money, but I was confident I'd find a solution, and after ruling out the attic, the basement, the wardrobes, the space under Lennie's bed, and the cupboard under the stairs where Lennie keeps an abundance of crap, I went back to the shed and put it on the shelf next to the tins of paint and broken flowerpots. It was the safest place.
After I hid the money I went back to Lennie's house only to be confronted by Susie hovering outside the front door.
“Hey Marnie,” she says.
“Hey,” I say back but with no enthusiasm.
“I'm sorry,” she says.
“You should be,” I say.
She offers me a fag but I say no.
“My nan says I can go to drama school, did Kim tell you?”
“I don't care,” I tell her.
“So that's it,” she says. “We're never going to be friends again?”
“I can't,” I tell her.
“Your dad's a prick,” she puffs.
“Hardly a news flash,” I say.
“You don't know when he's coming back then?”
“Fuck off, Suzanne,” I say and walk away.
I feel sad because I have lost a friend, I have lost Susie and I loved Susie.
Y
ou have to have a light hand when making shortbread and use the very best of ingredients. I make mine by hand, although electric mixers are all the rage, aren't they? I keep my butter cold and blend it with flour and sugar with the ends of my fingers until it's like bread crumbs. Then I place it in a nine-inch cake tin with a removable bottom and press it into even layers before pricking the surface with the tines of a fork. I take a knife then and lightly score the top of the shortbread into wedges. I bake at 175ºC for about forty-five minutes or until the shortbread colors, but ever so slightly. Finally I let it cool and remove it from the cake tin, cutting it carefully around the wedges and placing it on a wire rack. I sprinkle a little caster sugar for decoration.
K
im and I had been out at the park having a laugh.
“Let's go back to Lennie's for some scran,” she says.
When we get to the house I am introduced to Fiona Mullen, social worker extraordinaire, and she's ticking off Lennie for not letting the authorities know about the abandoned children next door. I tell the slag to piss off, which Lennie wholeheartedly approves of. I tell her she's got no right to barge in, when deep down we all know whoever holds the clipboard has all the right in the world. I don't say anything more, because I'm wondering where Nelly is.
She's a nasty bitch this Fiona Mullen and is unforgivably rude to Lennie, who quite rightly tells her to go fuck herself while reminding her there is no law prohibiting him from caring for two abandoned children, but this doesn't matter to her. He is deemed an inappropriate guardian, whereas my parents who neglected us every day of our waking lives were always deemed appropriate guardians on account of the DNA issue. No one wants to separate children from their parents, even when their parents are fucked-up delinquents.
Further to this, Fiona Mullen on account of Lennie's past feels entitled to waltz into Lennie's home and give him dirty looks.
I am glad when he tells her where to get off, I am glad he doesn't offer her tea or cake, but she doesn't care, nothing is going to stop Fiona Mullen yapping about the process Lennie should have followed when he became aware two minors had been left alone and took it upon himself to feed them and offer them shelter. That's when he tells her to get out. I mean really tells her. “Get the fuck out of my house!” he yells. It jolts because I don't think I ever heard Lennie swear the whole time I have known him, but when he starts to push the social worker out of the front door I know something is very wrong and not wanting him to get into any more trouble I tell him to calm down.