The Death of Bees (23 page)
Authors: Lisa O'Donnell
R
obert T. Macdonald cries in the nighttime. He cries for a daughter he'll never know and I feel rather badly for his tears. Marnie is without sympathy and I don't quite care for her attitude. His daughter was also our mother, was she not?
We are not to mention life on Hazelhurst, but Marnie insists we have possessions to retrieve from Lennie's home. Robert T. Macdonald is enraged and refuses.
“You are not to enter that monster's home, do you understand? I will replace whatever is needed. Clear?”
I am clear, Marnie is not. When she offers a “But . . .” he throws a glass at the wall.
“I said,
clear
?”
Marnie nods and then skulks from the room.
Truth be told I feel bothered he has called Lennie a monster and then I remember it is the cost of the new reality we are living: Lennie is a murderer and we are the innocent and orphaned.
“Apologies, Grandfather. Marnie isn't thinking as one should right now.”
He tells me to make ready for dinner. We are having steak pies from a tin. I know it won't taste good and make plans to take over his kitchen.
“Perhaps I can help,” I suggest.
“To do what?” he grumps.
“You have eggs?” I ask.
“Tons,” he says.
“Then you are in good hands,” I assure him.
We must move on and we must make this work. The past is the past and Robert T. Macdonald's regrets are tenfold. Whether she likes it or not he is our family and with a little cooperation from all of us it's possible we can all get along. It's imperative, for we have nowhere else to go.
E
very morning Robert T. Macdonald makes us tidy our beds and not like we used to by throwing our duvets on top, but with straight smooth angling. It's like living in a barracks.
I have porridge for breakfast. Nelly has her cornflakes and Coke. Television is limited to one hour and he makes us go to church every Sunday. We have to wear skirts, but when he sees my mini he has a fit and takes me to Oxfam where he buys me something long, flowery, and ugly. I hate him.
Nelly is quick to fall into line and is eager to please. It's like she's developed some kind of amnesia and forgotten what a nut her “gramps” actually is.
He gives Nelly the room he originally planned for Izzy and lets Nelly decorate it herself. He gives her money for whatever she wants while forcing me to live among the pinks and cartoon characters in a room he meant for both of us.
“It's best you have your own place,” he tells Nelly. “Away from bad influences.”
He says this good and loud and obviously for my benefit. I play deaf while Nelly doesn't even flinch. She's said nothing since we got here and it worries me.
A midnight escape to a nightclub ends in tears for me when I accidentally return through his bedroom window, falling on his head smelling of alcohol and fags. He goes crazy and pushes me to my knees and makes me say the Lord's Prayer at five in the morning. I am too drunk to refuse him, although I stutter over the part about “Forgive us our trespasses” because I went to a Protestant school and we say “Forgive us our debtors,” so our words collide but he doesn't correct me and we get to Amen without too much fussing. The next morning I wake to hammering. He has put a lock on the outside of my door.
“You're going to sit in here for the rest of the day,” he spits.
“No way,” I say.
He went right up to my face then. “While you're in my house you're going to do as you're told, you nasty little witch.”
“I'm nearly sixteen, you can't keep me here forever.”
“But I don't want to keep you forever. I don't want to keep you at all.” He laughed. “I can't wait till you're sixteen. Sooner you're out of your sister's life the better.”
It was the one thing I hadn't considered: he didn't want me at all. He wanted Nelly, malleable and afraid. She was to be his family and as soon as he got the chance he was going to erase me.
Later that night Nelly came to the locked door.
“Please, Marnie,” she whispers, “don't misbehave. He'll separate us for sure. I know he will. Do it for me. He's not as bad as you think.”
Nelly working for Team Macdonald was more than I could handle and so I told her to fuck off and that's exactly what she did.
W
hy must she be so difficult? It might not be much of a home, but it is better than no home and I am tired of running. If she'd only accept his ways, life would be so much easier. How he berated her for escaping and in the middle of the night and how he rages. He is a tempest in particular moods and knows no calm. I miss Lennie but I do my utmost not to compare them, sure it would lead to more misery, and so I try to fit into Gramps's world as best I can. I could be here a very long time, with or without Marnie. It's a dreadful state of affairs. If she could just toe the line and if not for herself, then for me. He's not so bad once you get used to him. He can be very accommodating so long as everything else is running as it should. Dinner eaten by 5:30. Homework finished by 6:30 and clothes ironed and ready for the following day by seven. Television till 7:30, bed and prayers at eight. Marnie cannot abide him. She's never done homework in her life, has never needed to do homework. As for her clothes he chooses what she wears, and you can only imagine his choices. Marnie keeps her clothes at Kim's and changes as soon as she gets to school. Gramps says Marnie's been running amok for too long now. Perhaps he is right. He says Marnie is a negative influence and will drag me down. He tells me how proud he is of my gifts and my manners.
“Could take you anywhere,” he says.
Marnie is to be kept in a locked room for twenty-four hours or until she sees sense. I hope it's soon. I should go and speak to her.
W
hen the door was finally opened Nelly makes me a cup of tea and some toast. While I am eating he opens his bible and reads: “I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ.”
I have no fucking idea what he's talking about but he doesn't care, he just stares into my eyes like the psycho he is and says, “I'll have no more of this, you understand?”
I nod because it's easier than having to listen to him go on. He knows this and shakes his head because in his mind I am a lost cause anyway.
Fuck him
, I think.
The other night I dare to leave my room for a glass of water and I hear him wandering about downstairs. I sneak to the top of the landing and see him reach into a cupboard and fish out a bottle of whiskey. He guzzles it like it's water. No glass. I go back to my room afraid, because people like Robert T. Macdonald carrying righteousness like a handbag are dangerous and I never considered him dangerous before and now that I do I am scared.
Every night he makes us get down on our knees and pray in the hallway outside our room.
“Dear Father, hear and bless
Thy beasts and singing birds
And guard with tenderness
Small things that have no words.”
And we don't, not anymore.
I
take a walk in the park and meet a ghost, a vampire, and a witch. It is Halloween and I wish for a costume of my own. I remember how Mother loved this particular holiday and always in fishnet stockings. She was a cat one year, a nurse the next, and before she died an oversize schoolgirl. When we were little she always took us with her, but as we aged the celebrations and parties were mostly for her.
“You're too old to go trick-or-treating,” she told us.
Marnie was ten and I was seven.
“Please,” begged Marnie.
“No,” she snapped.
For the rest of the evening we were tormented by revelers rapping on our door looking for treats. We turned the lights off and went to bed.
When I get to the house I find Gramps dressed as a clown. He treats children to toffee apples and sweets. He is kind and he is generous. I like this man and I think everything is going to be okay until a boy shows up with a pillowcase over his head. It is splattered with red ink, which I presume to be blood.
“What are you supposed to be?” asks Gramps.
“I'm a headless ghost,” says the boy.
“I don't think so,” says Gramps, closing the door.
“What about my sister?” asks the boy. At his feet stands a little fairy.
“Okay, one for her, but your costume is rubbish. How old are you anyway?”
“I'm ten.”
“Ten,” squawks Gramps. “You're too old to go trick-or-treating,” he says. “Away you go.”
The little girl takes her brother's hand and they leave without the toffee apple.
I go to my room and turn off the lights.
W
hen Robert T. Macdonald drops us at school I tell Nelly I have somewhere to go. She begs me to stay but I can't and since I'm not sure if I can trust her anymore, I don't tell her about the bag.
“He'll be so angry,” she reminds me.
“So what,” I say.
“He is unbearable when he's angry with you,” she says.
“I take it by unbearable you mean a big fat psycho.”
“Why can't you just try?” she screams.
“Try what?” I yell.
“Try to make this work. It's a home, isn't it?”
“He's mental. Don't you see that? We can't stay there. I can't.”
“Well I have to. You think he'll let me see you if you leave?” she cries. “He's not so bad, Marnie.”
“Oh my God. You think you're getting on with him when really you're just managing him. It was the same with Gene. You thought you could keep him away by being you and then you couldn't, neither of us could.”
“Don't talk of such things.”
“I'll talk about what I like.”
She slaps me and I can't believe it. I think of slapping her back but I don't. I'm too shocked and I'm hurt. I'm so hurt.
“You fret too much,” she whispers.
“Fuck you and your âfret,'” I say. I turn to leave and she pulls me back.
“Please stay in school. If you would just try to do as he wishes.”
“That's the thing, Nelly, what Robert T. Macdonald wishes is a little unclear to me right now and I'm not hanging around for it to be clarified.”
I break away and leave her crying. I don't cry, but I know I wanted to.
H
e follows her every move. I can see him. I do what I can to distract him but I am running out of music. He doesn't want her, I can feel it and I can't bear to think of a life without her for he will surely forbid any contact with her beyond her seventeenth year. Last week she played truant from school and a demon was unleashed, now he won't let her out of his sight and it is a miserable state of affairs. He kept her on her knees for at least two hours and how they bruised. I didn't know what to do for her and so I waited for him to go to the shops for his blasted lottery ticket and went straight to her room. I found her listening to her confounded pop music, her head bobbing around like a ball on water. She wouldn't talk to me and I had to get through to her. I didn't know the song she was listening to at all, but it had a bizarre kind of energy and so I let my head dance with her head and before I knew it we were jumping on top of her bed. It was so much fun. We held hands and laughed, though I did feel badly for her knees. I didn't even hear him come in and he wasn't best pleased.
“Get off the bed,” he snarled.
Marnie turned the music down.
“Go to your room,” he said to me.
He sulked all through dinner and could barely look at me. I asked if he'd like me to play and he reluctantly agreed. I chose a religious piece and it brightened him in no time.
“You'll always have a family in God, Nelly, and don't you forget it.”
Marnie looked miserable. She hardly ate a thing. Her appetite is waning of late, which is a dreadful shame, for Lennie spent a great deal of time fattening her up.
Gramps has obviously forgotten I have a family in Marnie and I wonder then if my sister has also forgotten. I think perhaps she has. Lennie said she'd always need reminding. He told me a lot of things in the end, but one thing in particular and I mustn't forget it.
N
elly was pissed off with me but what could I do? I had to get the bag. It's our only way out of here. He obviously went nuts but I didn't care. I'm too desperate to care. I'm not staying here and he's not taking my sister from me. He's already forbidden contact with my friends and when he says friends he means Kim.
His regime is a prison for me. Every day before school he makes me empty my pockets for fags and other contraband. He actually searches me like one of those people at airports looking for bombs in your handbag. Of course Kim has all my contraband. He takes us to school in his sad little Peugeot around 8:15 and we get there around 8:30, but then he makes us sit with him until the bell rings at nine. He watches as we enter the school gates and calls three times a day to ensure I am sitting in maths or English. He won't leave me alone.
I have barely said two words to Nelly in weeks. I feel so betrayed by her compliance.
At breakfast this morning he had us sing from hymn sheets, but Nelly wouldn't play. She said her neck hurt.
“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
“Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day,
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away,