Stone Mattress (35 page)

“You are safe with me, dear lady,” says Tobias. Everything’s relative, thinks Wilma.

“What are they doing now?” she asks with a little shiver.

“Milling around,” says Tobias. “Milling around is first. Then people get carried away.” He draws the blanket around her solicitously. There’s a line of little people, men and women both, in dull red velvet costumes, richly textured and patterned in gold; they must be on the railing of the gazebo, which she can’t see. They’re involved in a stately promenade, arm in arm, couple by couple; they walk forward, stop, turn, bow and curtsey, then walk forward again, golden toes pointed. The women have flowery butterfly-wing crowns; the men have mitres, like bishops. There must be music playing for them, at a range beyond the human.

“There,” says Tobias. “The first flames. They have torches. No doubt they have explosives as well.”

“But the others …” says Wilma.

“There is nothing I can do for the others,” says Tobias.

“But Noreen. But Jo-Anne. They’re still inside. They’ll be …” She’s clutching – she notices – her own hands. They feel like somebody else’s.

“It was always that way,” he says mournfully. Or is it coldly? She can’t tell.

The rumbling from the crowd is swelling. “They’ve come inside the walls now,” says Tobias. “They’re piling objects against the door of the building. The side door too, I suppose.

To prevent exit, or entrance as well. And the back door; they will be thorough. They are rolling the oil drums inside the gate, and they have driven a car up onto the front steps, to block any attempt.”

“I don’t like this,” says Wilma.

There’s a sudden bang. If only it were fireworks.

“It’s burning,” says Tobias. “The Manor.” There’s a thin, shrill screaming. Wilma puts her hands over her ears, but she can still hear. It goes on and on, loud at first, then dwindling.

When will the fire trucks come! There are no sirens.

“I can’t bear this,” she says. Tobias pats her knee.

“Perhaps they will jump out of the windows,” he says.

“No,” says Wilma. “They won’t.” She wouldn’t, if it was her. She would just give up. Anyway the smoke will get them first.

The flames have taken over now. They’re so bright. Even gazing directly, she can see them. Blended with them, flickering and soaring, are the little people, their red garments glowing from within, scarlet, orange, yellow, gold. They’re swirling upward, they’re so joyful! They meet and embrace, they part; it’s an airy dance.

Look. Look! They’re singing!

These nine tales owe a debt to tales through the ages. Calling a piece of short fiction a “tale” removes it at least slightly from the realm of mundane works and days, as it evokes the world of the folk tale, the wonder tale, and the long-ago teller of tales. We may safely assume that all tales are fiction, whereas a “story” might well be a true story about what we usually agree to call “real life,” as well as a short story that keeps within the boundaries of social realism. The Ancient Mariner tells a tale. “Give me a copper coin and I will tell you a golden tale,” the late Robertson Davies was fond of saying.

Several of these tales are tales about tales; I leave it to you to discover which ones. Three of them have appeared in print:

The title story, “Stone Mattress,” was begun in the Canadian Arctic during an Adventure Canada trip as a way of entertaining my fellow adventurers. Graeme Gibson made a material contribution, as he seemed to have a plan in his head detailing how a person might go about murdering another person on such a trip without getting caught. Since the passengers all wanted to
hear how the tale would come out (the numerous Bobs onboard were especially interested), I finished it. It was published in
The New Yorker
(December 19 and 26, 2011), for which thanks to its editor, Deborah Triesman.

“Lusus Naturae” was written for Michael Chabon, who was putting together a collection of strange tales:
McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories
. Ed. Michael Chabon. Vintage Books (2004).

“I Dream of Zenia with the Bright Red Teeth” was written for
The Walrus
(Summer issue, 2012). Writers were challenged to revisit a character from an earlier work of fiction by them, and I chose Zenia, and her friends or dupes, Ros, Charis, and Tony, from
The Robber Bride
.

My gratitude, as always, to my editors: Ellen Seligman of McClelland & Stewart, Random House (Canada); Nan Talese of Doubleday, Random House (U.S.A.); and Alexandra Pringle of Bloomsbury (U.K.). And to copyeditor Heather Sangster of
Strongfinish.ca
.

Thanks also to my first readers: Jess Atwood Gibson, and Phoebe Larmore, my North American agent, and my U.K. agents Vivienne Schuster and Karolina Sutton of Curtis Brown.

Also to Betsy Robbins and Sophie Baker of Curtis Brown, who handle foreign rights. Thanks also to Ron Bernstein of
ICM
. Also to Louise Dennys of Vintage, LuAnn Walther of Anchor, and Lennie Goodings of Virago, and to my many agents and publishers around the world. And to Alison Rich, Ashley Dunn, and Madeleine Feeny, and also to Judy Jacobs.

Thanks to my office staff, Suzanna Porter; also to Sarah Webster and Laura Stenberg; and to Penny Kavanaugh; and to VJ Bauer, and to Joel Rubinovich and Sheldon Shoib. And to Michael Bradley and Sarah Cooper, and to Coleen Quinn and Xiaolan Zhao. And to the University of East Anglia – especially
to Andrew Cowan and the Writers’ Centre of Norwich – especially Chris Gribble – where I spent part of a term as a
UNESCO
City of Literature Visiting Professor and where two of these tales were completed.

Finally, my special thanks to Graeme Gibson, who has always had a devious mind.

Margaret Atwood, whose work has been published in over thirty-five countries, is the author of more than forty books of fiction, poetry, and critical essays. In addition to
The Handmaid’s Tale
, her novels include
Cat’s Eye
, shortlisted for the Booker Prize;
Alias Grace
, which won the Giller Prize in Canada and the Premio Mondello in Italy;
The Blind Assassin
, winner of the 2000 Booker Prize;
Oryx and Crake
, shortlisted for the 2003 Booker Prize;
The Year of the Flood
; and
MaddAddam
. She lives in Toronto with writer Graeme Gibson.

Stone Mattress Reading Group Discussion Guide

Nine Questions for Nine Stories

1.    Alphinland: Discuss the contrasts between the ice storm, a force of nature that Constance cannot control, and Alphinland, the elaborately imagined world where Constance is in complete control. Now that Ewan has entered Alphinland, what do you think Constance will do next?

2.    Revenant: “Revenant” is defined as “one that returns after death or a long absence.” Is Gavin returning to Constance or is Constance returning to Gavin?

3.    Dark Lady: Now that the ill will between Constance and Jorrie has been resolved, will Jorrie need to hide behind her bronze mineral powder mask less … or more?

4.    Lusus Naturae: “Freaks of nature” come in all shapes and sizes. The next time you encounter someone who does not conform to traditional notions of beauty, will your instinct be to attack, run, or look a little closer?

5.    The Freeze-Dried Groom: Which parts of the bride’s story do you think are true and which do you think are false?

6.    I Dream of Zenia with the Bright Red Teeth: “Not that there’s any percentage in not forgiving a person who’s no longer alive.” Do you agree or disagree?

7.    The Dead Hand Loves You: When Irena and Jack join hands, a new contract is being written. What are the terms?

8.    Stone Mattress: It’s no accident that Verna’s choice of weapon is as old as revenge itself. But will the accident she’s so carefully arranged give her the closure she’s looking for?

9.    Torching the Dusties: Charles Bonnet syndrome is a real condition that can affect people with partial or severe blindness. People who suffer from the syndrome can experience vivid hallucinations. Do you think the attack on Ambrosia Manor is real?

BONUS QUESTION: There are several recurring themes throughout the stories: the male/female dynamic, money, aging, sex, and death. Which theme (or themes) resonated with you and why?