The Tightrope Walkers by Almond David

Author:Almond, David [Almond, David]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780763677046
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2014-03-26T07:00:00+00:00

I cried like that boy as we headed home. I sat in the back of the car. What did this woman make of this place: this small square with the fountain at its heart; Dragone’s coffee shop with condensation on its windows and steam seeping from its door; Bamling’s fruit shop with the tempting apples in boxes outside; Myer’s pork shop with the pig’s head grinning through the glass; the great codfish on the fishmonger’s slab? These scampering children, these headscarved women, these old men with their dogs, these working men in boiler suits heading wearily homeward after half-shifts in the yards?

Her head was still, her eyes were cold.

We entered the estate. Through her cold eyes I saw the crumbling pebbledash, the cracks in the pavements, the potholes in the roads, the sinking garden walls. Kids in filthy vests made dens in little gardens. Faces at the windows watching this police car bringing Dominic Hall home.

We pulled up outside the house.

Mrs. Stroud was singing Doris Day.

Girls were singing too, their never-ending skipping song.

A pony whinnied, a cockerel called.

My parents stood at the front window.

And I looked through the cold eyes again: this tiny house in a pale narrow street. This creaking gate, this concrete earth, this outhouse, this washing line with sheets on it, these hooks for a childish tightrope. And this little neat living room with flowery curtains, cheap workaday furniture. This squat muscular man, this caulker with damaged hands and damaged lungs, this father sucking in smoke, breathing it out, this lovely little shocked mother.

And I saw through their eyes too. I saw their boy, the boy who was supposed to walk away from all of this towards the sky.

The tale of the tawdry boy was told to them. The plunder and the knife were shown to them.

Mrs. Charlton touched the lamp that she had given us those few short years ago, the one that Mam had cared for as a precious thing.

She sighed.

“I do not wish to stay long,” she said. “I just wish this to be over with.”

She ran her fingers across the towers and minarets upon the lamp.

“I will not press charges,” she said.

“Are you certain of that, Mrs. Charlton?” said the policeman.

“I wish to be sullied no further. I will show mercy.” She looked Mam in the eye. “Only for your sake, Elaine.”

Mam caught her breath. She sobbed. Mrs. Charlton turned her face away.

“What about the other boy?” asked Romero.

“Oh yes, the other brute.” She shuddered. “To think that there are two of them with the same leanings. Scare him, Officer, but leave him to his filth.”

Romero shrugged.

“I loved your little story,” Mrs. Charlton said. “I kept it on my bookshelves for a year or more. I showed it to my guests. I knew from your mother that there were such high hopes for you. I thought you were such a credit to her. . . .”

Her voice trailed off.

“Who’d have thought there was such a . . . thing beneath?”

She pushed the lamp away with extended fingertip.

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