The Voices of Silence by Bel Mooney

Author:Bel Mooney [Mooney, Bel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406356083
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2013-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

SEVEN

All that happened on a Sunday. On the Monday, in school, I felt that there was a new, secret bond between Daniel Ghiban and myself. Nothing needed to be said. We chatted about the usual things: teachers, school work, things we would like to own, or eat. Nothing important.

All that mattered were my own feelings. Even though nothing had really changed – my father was still bent on his mad plan; Alys was still a terrible worry – I felt better. At the centre of my mind, like a warm flame, was the relief of having confided in someone and the flattering feeling that the person thought me special. So it was me, me, me. I know that sounds selfish, but people can’t help worrying about themselves. Looking back, of course, I hate myself. I think what a silly, self-centred little girl I was. Why wasn’t I thinking more about my parents, and what they were going through? But you don’t, do you? You are the centre of your own universe – until something happens to knock you off that pedestal.

An odd, quiet time followed, in which people stopped talking about Maryon and Mr Paroan, and just got on with their lives. There was a sense of Christmas approaching; we all chatted vaguely and wistfully about what our parents might buy us, knowing all the time it was likely to be little. But we had lots of tests in school too, which was boring – but useful too, in that they united us all in hating being forced to learn all that boring stuff. Dates. Formulae. Grammar. Names.

I wondered if, as well as having chocolate and bananas to eat, kids in the West had to suffer like this as well. They must. And I was actually rather glad!

At the back of my mind, though, was the Big Question.

WHEN?

When would Tata make his move?

My mother wondered too, I knew, because she grew very tense, as the weather got colder and colder, and we rolled into December. They didn’t talk so much, although he still showed her plenty of affection. Just one little comment I overheard. They were both in the kitchen, and thought I was in my bedroom, and he said to her bitterly, “You see, Rodi? The Wall comes down, and the Czechs and the Poles raise flags of freedom, and Hungary’s borders are open, and even the Bulgarians have seen the light – but what about us? Not in a million years. Now do you see …?”

There was a silence, but she probably nodded. What else could she do but agree with him?

Not long after that, she got ill. It was nothing serious, just something a bit worse than a very bad cold, but it made her shiver and sweat, and she had to stay in bed. I felt so sorry for Mama, lying there with bright, feverish eyes, and her long dark hair in rats’ tails round her face. She fretted that she couldn’t go out to queue for food, and go to work, and cook, and do all the things she usually did.

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