A Song for Issy Bradley (27 page)

The back door opened. “What’re you doing? Reckon you’ll get closer to heaven by standing on a chair?”

“Go away, Alma.”

“What’re you praying for?”

“Not telling.”

“What? Is it a
secret
prayer?” Alma laughed and started to sing the words of a hymn in a high, silly voice.
“Pray in secret, day by day!”

“Go away.”

“ ’Tis solace to my soul to know God hears my secret prayer.”

Jacob ran out of the kitchen but Alma pranced after him, singing in his high, silly voice; he wouldn’t shut up, so Jacob went upstairs to his room and got his pajamas on. Mum was wrapped up in Issy’s duvet, facing the wall.

“Hello, Mum,” he said. “The geese are flying out to the marsh. They’re doing their flying in big arrows, taking turns to be in the front, just like last year.” He paused so she could join in, but she didn’t say anything, not even “Oh” or “That’s nice.” He waited a little while longer before he went down the corridor and got into Dad’s bed. He said one more prayer, then he closed his eyes very tight and tried to make the morning come quickly.

F
RED WAS STILL
dead on Friday morning. No one noticed because they were too busy. Jacob watched him floating on top of the water and tried not to mind, but when Dad said there weren’t any Shreddies left, he cried.

In assembly he pulled his sweater over his face because the Reception class did their harvest poem, without Issy. He put his head down on the table in math when he had to answer a problem:
“Simon has 16 sweets. He decides to give half of the sweets to his sister. How many sweets does Simon’s sister have?”
At break time he found a really big dead daddy-longlegs for the Box of the Dead, but George Hindle stood on it and it stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Jacob cried and Mrs. Slade said he could stay indoors with Jessie Sinkinson at lunchtime and sit outside the staff room drawing pictures with the new felt tips.

“Why are you here?” Jessie asked.

“My sister’s dead.”

“I know. Mrs. Slade told us when you were off. She said we weren’t allowed to talk to you about it in case you got upset, but
you got upset anyway.” Jessie stuck the felt-tip lid to her tongue and pulled it off with a pop. “Did they drop your sister in a big hole or did they burn her?”

“In a big hole.”

“Did you see her when she was dead?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“At my house.”

“Were you scared?”

“No.”

“Was there blood and guts everywhere?”

“No.”

“What are you drawing?”

“Geese.”

“Why?”

“I like them.”

“Why?”

“They’ve got special wings that make them do gliding. They can go up and down and fast and slow. And when they fly it’s—it’s a bit like a miracle.”

“Oh.”

“What are you drawing?”

She looked at him like he was thick. “The cinema.”

B
Y THE TIME
Jacob got home from school he’d forgotten about Fred and so it was a ginormous surprise to go into the kitchen and see him there, all fishy and alive! He pressed his face to the tank and as he watched he felt like he did when he saw his presents on Christmas morning and couldn’t work out how Santa Claus managed it. Fred glided back and forth, all boggle-eyed and completely not dead, and Jacob raised both hands in the air and shook them above his head, just as he’d seen Alma do when he scored a goal. “Yes, yes, yes!” he cheered.

J
ACOB FLICKS THROUGH
the
Big Book of Fairy Tales
. There are some ace stories, but his is better.

George comes back from the library corner with
The Sports Car Guide
and drops it on the table.

“Fairy tales are for girls,” he says, pointing to a red car with doors like wings. “My dad’s got a Ferrari. He lets me drive it on the weekend. Bet your dad hasn’t got a Ferrari.” The red car looks small and Jacob is glad Dad doesn’t have one because there’s no way everyone would fit in.

“Bet you didn’t drive a Ferrari on the weekend,” George says. “Bet you stayed home and watched boring telly and your dad drank beer and shouted and called you a right pain in the arse.”

“I went to church,” Jacob says. “My dad doesn’t drink beer and he’d never shout at anyone.”

S
UNDAYS SMELL OF
Mum’s perfume and the brown stuff she wipes on her face that smells damp and muddy. Yesterday didn’t smell like Sunday. Jacob didn’t want to go to church without Mum but Dad said put your best foot forward which meant stop complaining and do as you are told.

Primary was ace. Sister Anderson did “Here We Are Together” in singing time. It took ages to go around the room and include everyone’s name—some people went too fast and there was lots of laughter when things got jumbled up. Afterward there was enough time for the first five verses of “Follow the Prophet.” Everyone marched up and down the corridor, trailing Sister Anderson, singing,
“Follow the prophet, follow the prophet, follow the prophet!”

Dad had forgotten to pack the Sunday bag, so Jacob had nothing to play with during Sacrament Meeting. Dad let him borrow his scriptures—thick as a brick and twice as heavy, with wafer-thin pages like the crispy toilet paper at school. Jacob flicked through the scriptures. At the end of the Bible bit there were some color maps of where Jesus lived. They were quite interesting and they had little red arrows on them. Zippy said the arrows showed the journeys different
people had taken. One map said “The Third Journey of Paul” and Jacob thought if there was a map about his journeys it would be very boring: “The Three Hundredth Journey of Jacob (to school).”

Yesterday at church it was Testimony Meeting. Testimony Meeting usually happens on the first Sunday of the month, but when it’s been General Conference, Testimony Meeting is moved back. Its proper name is Fast and Testimony Meeting. Fasting is when you don’t drink or eat anything for twenty-four hours and the money you would have spent on food goes to the church to help the poor. Mum says seven is too young to fast, even though Dad did it. Jacob will miss breakfast when he’s eight and he’ll fast properly when he’s twelve. Alma calls Testimony Meeting “Starve and Cry Meeting” because people go up to the pulpit to say their testimonies and while they’re talking they sometimes cry. Alma says they cry because they’re hungry but Dad says it’s because they’re feeling the Spirit.

When it was time for testimonies Jacob put Dad’s scriptures down and walked up to the pulpit. Brother Stevens got the big step out so Jacob could climb on it and be seen by the congregation. He arranged one hand on each side of the pulpit, just like Dad, and then he bore his testimony.

“I know the Church is true. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I know we have a prophet on the Earth today. I know families can be together forever.”

A testimony is like a list of what you know. Although Jacob knows plenty of other things, like math, reading, bike riding, and how to tell stories, these things are not part of his testimony.

“I love Primary and my teacher, Sister Anderson. I love my dad and my mum. I know miracles do happen. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

It was the first Testimony Meeting since Issy had died, so lots of people mentioned her. Dad thanked everyone for all of their help and kindness with food. Sister Valentine said she was happy to be a member of the true Church and then she cried. Zippy didn’t cry but her voice wobbled as she said it was important to keep the commandments
and easy to say the wrong things when you’re upset. Brother Rimmer waddled to the pulpit to tell everyone that Alma Bradley was helping him with a very important project and Alma’s face went bright pink. The room went very quiet when Sister Anderson said Issy had appeared to her in the Temple. Jacob knelt on the pew and looked at the congregation. Several people were wiping tears from their eyes—they didn’t look hungry so they were probably feeling the Spirit. Sister Campbell got up next and said she’d been grateful for the opportunity to sacrifice her dinner and give it to the Bradleys. Alma made a sort of snorting noise and even Dad, up on the stand, seemed to smile with his eyes until Sister Campbell said she hoped Sister Bradley wasn’t going
inactive
. Zippy made a hissing sound and Alma looked as if he’d like to swing Sister Campbell round the room by her braid but it was OK because Brother Stevens jumped up and reminded everyone that Bishop Bradley was a great guy and Sister Bradley had a terrible cold. Brother Campbell said he’d challenged all of the young men to bear testimony and promised that once they’d said the words they’d start to believe them. He extended a special invitation to Alma Bradley to bear testimony. Alma spent the rest of the meeting looking at the floor.

After church, Dad interviewed everyone who lined up outside his office and then he counted the tithing money. When it was finally time to go home their car was the only one left in the parking lot.

“Can we go to the cemetery on the way home?” Jacob asked, even though he knew it wasn’t on the way.

They had to drive past loads of massive statues to get to Issy’s part of the cemetery. When they got to the right spot, Alma wouldn’t get out of the car.

“What’s the point? She’s not here,” he said.

Jacob carried Dad’s scriptures with him as he followed Zippy and Dad along the grass. Issy didn’t have a headstone yet, there was just a bit of a bump in the ground where the earth had been put back. Some of the flowers from the funeral were there, all soggy and rotten brown. Dad said the ground had to settle before headstones
are put in, which made it sound like the grass and the soil were wrapping themselves around Issy’s coffin—Jacob hoped they weren’t getting too comfy.

There wasn’t much to do at the grave. They looked at the ground and the rotten flowers, at the golf course behind the cemetery with its greens that stretched up to the dunes and the clouds that would eventually meet the sea on the hidden horizon.

“Right, let’s go home and get something to eat.”

“I’ll come in a minute.”

Dad nodded and carried on back to the car with Zippy. Jacob lifted the scripture case, holding it against his tummy like a baby. Under its zip were thousands and millions of powerful, magical words. He didn’t know which words were the right ones, but he hadn’t known on Friday either, so maybe it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes.

“Dear Heavenly Father, by the power and authority of the Melky-is-ick priesthood please bless this sick and afflicted girl to get resurrected. Please help thy Spirit to be with us and watch over us and … um, thank you very much. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

When he opened his eyes he watched as a big puff of wind gusted along the golf course and swayed the grass. It rolled into the cemetery and when it reached him he could smell the sea. He couldn’t see the sea, but he knew it was definitely there, behind the dunes. And although he couldn’t see Issy either, it felt like she was there too.

T
HE
B
IG
B
OOK
of Fairy Tales
has got some good illustrations, way more interesting than cars, but Jacob is only
pretending
to look at the pictures, he is
actually
imagining what it will be like when Issy comes back. Everyone will be so happy. Zippy will hug her and Alma will drag her outside for football practice, Dad will do a big, thankful prayer, and Mum will get up and make the dinner. After dinner, Mum will do bedtime stories and put the clothes away in the right places. He will sleep in his own bed, Issy will sleep in the bunk beneath, and they will all live happily ever after. The end.

The air smells ill, like stale breath and sweat, and Zippy wonders when Mum last had a shower.

“I need you to get up and do something, Mum.”

It’s not much to ask, is it? But she has avoided it up to now, suspecting she might be ignored.

“I’ve got to borrow your wedding dress. Do you know where it is?”

Mum doesn’t even move. The back of her head is poking out of the duvet, slick with grease. She is disgusting.