Tall Story (8 page)

Ma turned to a freckled little boy in a Chicago Bulls jacket. ‘Andi, aren’t you going to say hello?’

The boy stared up at me open-mouthed. He was no higher than my hip bone.

Then he snapped his jaws together with a click.

‘Hey, Bernardo,’ he mumbled in a gruff voice, raising a hand in a half-salute while tracing a crack in the linoleum with the toe of his shoe.

I hesitated and then raised my hand too. ‘Pleased you meet me?’ I said, unsure.

The boy turned to Ma, his bottom lip thrust out, dark brows drawn together in a scowl. Uncle William frowned at the boy and Ma’s grip on my hand tightened.

‘Mum, why couldn’t you just
tell
me?’ he said in a soft voice.

‘Andi!’ Mum said. ‘Say hello
properly
.’

It was only then that I realized. It was Amandolina.

The photos Mama sent had not prepared me for the hunched shoulders, hands stuffed into skinny jeans ripped at the knees, high-top canvas shoes smudged with dirt, and spiky short hair.

Amandolina slowly turned back to me and
shielded her eyes from the glare of the fluorescent lights as she stared up into my face. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said.

But she didn’t look at all pleased.

W
hat was everybody at school going to say when I turned up escorting the Big Friendly Giant?

I felt sick just thinking about it.

After Mum had talked to the school about Bernardo, Mrs Green had suddenly come over all friendly.

‘I hear your brother from the Philippines will be joining us soon, Andi?’

‘Yes, miss.’ I had wondered at the chummy way she touched my shoulder, the way she looked at me, as if there was a terrible illness in the family.

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.’

Help? I’d wondered. Why would we need help?

Now I knew.

A
mandolina’s eyes seemed to be fixed on my necktie and I tugged at it self-consciously.

‘Very smart,’ Ma said. ‘Did Timbuktu make your suit?’

I nodded.

It had been a rush job. Timbuktu had refused at first. But Uncle told him it was an emergency. A cousin from out of town suddenly needed to get married. Tim understood, of course. As a tailor he often dealt with urgent weddings with fire-breathing families intent on rescuing the honour of an expectant bride. Uncle told Tim I was best man.

‘Everyone on the plane will be wearing suits,’ Uncle told me. ‘And you must make a good first impression when you get to Heathrow.’

Tim charged extra for the rush and he charged extra for the Velcro on the tie. Tim liked Velcro. All the trousers that he’d ever made me were fastened with Velcro. The only thing about Velcro
was the whole household could hear you undressing.

Zzzzt
. Nardo’s emptying his pockets.
Zzzzt
. Nardo’s unzipped his fly.

Of course, there weren’t any smart shoes to go with the suit. Nobody had ever even heard of size twenty-two in San Andres and shoes were way beyond Timbuktu’s considerable abilities. So he made me a pair of leather sandals instead. Uncle said he had once seen a fashion magazine where the male models wore sandals with suits.

‘Nardo, you look so smart,’ Uncle had said. But I felt more like a tightly rolled piece of dim sum.

The morning of my flight to London was boiling hot long before the sun had even risen beyond the coconut trees.

Auntie made me put the jacket on, then turned me around and around as if she was inspecting a marrow for bruises.

‘It’s too hot, Auntie!’

‘Just let me have a good look!’

I rotated, trying to ignore the rivulets of sweat that trickled down my back.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Sister Sofia!’ a voice called urgently from the other side.

Auntie and I looked at each other.

Whoever it was knocked again.

Auntie’s shoulders sagged. She crossed the room and opened the door, leaving the chain on.

Old Tibo’s face thrust through the crack, his eyes frantically searching the room behind Auntie before settling on me with relief.

‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘I was afraid we were too late.’

‘Too late for what?’ Auntie’s voice was cold.

‘Let us in, Sister,’ someone called from behind Old Tibo. ‘We must speak to you.’

Auntie sighed and unlatched the chain.

A small crowd hurried into the living room.

It was so early in the morning, the streets outside should have remained empty for another hour. And yet here were all our immediate neighbours. Old Tibo, of course, with Flash Gordon at his heels. Timbuktu. Salim. Sister Len-Len with her baby curled in the crook of her elbow like a kitten.

And Jabby. He followed the others slowly into the room, frowning as he spotted the luggage piled up on the floor.

‘It’s true, then,’ Old Tibo said.

Auntie glared at me.

‘I swear I didn’t tell anyone, Auntie!’ I stared guiltily at the crowd.

‘Then how did they find out?’ She clenched her fists in frustration.

‘I put two and two together,’ Timbuktu said, his arms akimbo, a smug expression on his face. ‘Your uncle wanted your jacket lined. In this climate? People only ever order suits when they’re about to go on an international flight.’

‘And, Nardo, there was an earthquake last night, after midnight,’ Old Tibo said. ‘Did you feel it?’

All their eyes turned to me, accusing.

‘The first one in three years; it woke the baby,’ Sister Len-Len added. Her baby made a meowing noise as if to concur. ‘It’s an omen.’

‘Please don’t send Nardo away, Sister Sofia,’ Salim said. ‘San Andres needs him.’

‘The boy should be with his mother.’ Auntie’s voice was defiant, but her eyes were downcast.

‘And what about us?’ Old Tibo’s voice quavered with anger. ‘Did you think about what would happen to our barrio, our homes?’

‘Superstition!’ The screen door to the back banged
open as Uncle burst in. He had been getting the jeepney ready out the back. ‘He’s just an ordinary boy.’

‘There’s nothing ordinary about Bernardo,’ Salim said quietly.

Everyone looked up at me.

Old Tibo shook his head. ‘Brother Victor, you know the curse as well as I do. If Bernardo leaves the barrio, San Andres will be destroyed.’

I kneaded my forehead as the first pinpricks of a headache began. They were right. I was letting everyone down. San Andres needed me. ‘Look, Auntie … Uncle,’ I said softly. ‘Maybe I should …’

‘No.’

I thought at first it was Uncle who spoke because the voice was deep and dark, a man’s voice. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any of the grown men in the room. It was Jabby.

‘Nardo, don’t listen to them.’ His eyes were bright.

All the mixed-up feelings of the past days welled up in me and I wanted to look away, but he held me in his laser gaze. ‘You know you want to be with your mother. You must go. It’s wrong for them to stop you.’

‘Henry!’ Sister Len-Len glared at him.

‘I’m …’
Sorry
, I wanted to say.
I’m so sorry
.

Everyone began talking at the same time, Auntie and Uncle angry and indignant. Old Tibo and the others in furious counterpoint. Jabby saying,
No, no, no, Nardo, you must go, go, go
. The throbbing in my head turned into a deep drum-roll. I raised a hand to massage my forehead, my eyes watering. A bolt of pain slashed, lightning-sharp, into my eyes, and the faces around me whirled into a spinning blur.

And then I was conscious of a great weight.

‘Nardo!’ Auntie’s voice was a hundred miles away.

It was in my arms again. The Earth, so wet, so heavy – and slippery despite the rough gristle of forests and mountains.

It weighed a ton. No, a million billion zillion tons. Too heavy, too heavy. I couldn’t … It slipped and I struggled not to let go.

Then someone flicked a switch and turned off the sun.

E
verywhere we went, eyeballs tracked Bernardo like he was an alien from outer space. But the way he behaved, you would think that
he
was the one who’d stumbled upon an alien landscape.

He hesitated at the top of the escalators for so long that a queue formed behind us. I glanced over at Mum. Didn’t they have escalators in the Philippines?

But apparently he was just savouring the moment. Bernardo grinned over his shoulder. ‘I cannot believe. Yesterday only, I have be in Manila.’

Mum laughed, startling a bunch of people who were coming up the escalator on the other side. ‘Believe, believe!’ she cried, like a mad person.

Ay kennat bileeb
. His vowels were hard as stones.
His English is very good
, Ma had said the other day. Not.

I stepped past Bernardo and got on the escalator. Obviously someone had to get things moving.

Dad had taken the lift with Bernardo’s trolley. He met us at the bottom of the escalator.

‘All right?’ he said, slapping Bernardo on the shoulder – except he missed and caught him on the elbow.

‘All right.’ Bernardo took a deep breath, like he was about to dive deep into the ocean. ‘It have very nice smell here. Everything have air-conditioned!’

Mum thought that was funny too, braying so loudly that I’m sure I saw the airport sniffer dog check her out.

I led the way without looking over my shoulder, trying to ignore the double-takes and whispers as people caught sight of Bernardo.

‘ANDI! Slow down!’ Mum yelled. She handed Bernardo a ticket to feed the entry barrier but the guard opened a gate and waved him through. ‘Health and safety!’ he called. ‘We don’t want him getting stuck in them gates.’

Trolleys were not allowed on the Underground platforms so we each took one of Bernardo’s suitcases to roll along. Bernardo had to bend low to reach the handle of his bag, which was just as well because he had to keep his head ducked to get through the low tunnel to the platform.

‘This is first time I have train,’ Bernardo said when we got to our platform. And I believed him – especially
after he leaped backwards like a terrified rabbit when the train came thundering out of the tunnel’s mouth. His eyes bulged with awe as it screeched to a halt and the carriage doors rattled open.

I paused. How was he going to fit into the carriage?

But Mum was already urging him in. If the tunnels were low, the carriage was a matchbox on wheels. Bernardo practically had to unhinge his shoulders to get through the low opening. He tucked his chin deep into his chest and approached the door with his body bent into a right angle.

‘Please mind the gap,’ a metallic voice intoned on the PA as the carriage doors began to slide shut.

‘Hurry, hurry,’ Mum called, and I leaped on board as Dad swung the last bag into the carriage.

Bernardo was bent in half. It looked painful. The train set off and Mum put her arms around him, holding him up like a prop. ‘Sit, Bernardo, sit!’ He backed into a corner and sat on the floor, folding his knees sideways and angling his feet out into the standing space where Dad stood with the luggage. Mum stood next to him, rummaging in her handbag. She produced a thick woolly scarf. He just sat there like a baby, allowing her to wind it round his neck.

The train hissed and squealed as it rattled to the next station.

I crossed to the far end and leaned against the emergency door to the next carriage.

‘Andi just needs a little time to get used to you,’ Mum yelled into Bernardo’s ear. I grimaced and Mum stuck her tongue out at me. She continued to yell, switching to Tagalog.

There was a loud knocking. A bunch of teenagers in the next carriage peered through the window, waving at Bernardo. He smiled and waved back and they fell about laughing. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head.

How did Bernardo become so tall? The other Bernardo, his dad, wasn’t very tall. Or was he? It was hard to tell from the portrait which now sat on the mantelpiece in our new, double-size sitting room.

As the train emerged from the tunnel, the darkness was replaced by a murky grey. Suddenly we were clacking over a high bridge, the lights of London spreading beneath the train like candles in a darkened church. There was an explosion of phones beeping and ringing all around us as the train came within reach of a mobile phone signal. Bernardo’s
phone went off too. OK. His message alert was Darth Vader’s theme from
Star Wars
.

Mum’s voice rose above the train’s clatter like a foghorn. She was speaking in English again. ‘Cellphones are called
mobiles
in England.’

I glanced up. Bernardo was leaning against Mum. He sat on the floor and Mum stood next to him. His head lay on her shoulder, he was that tall. He looked dead tired. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. Mum nattered on. ‘As for bananas, they say
buh-NAR-nuhs
instead of
bah-nah-nahs
. And the hood of a car is a
bonnet
. And the trunk of a car is a
boot
! A boot! Imagine!’

Bernardo nodded, smiling despite the frown that knitted his brow. He pulled his mobile from his jacket pocket. I was amazed he could manage to push the buttons with such big fingers. Mum’s chatter had so obviously bored him that he was checking his messages.

I glanced at the teenagers in the next carriage. They’d forgotten about Nardo and were now pole-dancing on the other side of the carriage.

And then Mum screamed.

O
ne moment I was surrounded by the unwelcoming committee of Old Tibo and Sister Len-Len and Salim and Tim. The next: there it was, the Earth. I actually tried to slip away before its full weight could embed itself in my shoulder, but no, no, down it went, round and heavy and wet. Instead of getting away, I bumped my head against the Tropic of Cancer and
bong!
The world made a hollow sound, like the steel water tank behind Uncle’s house. Pieces of land shook off in great brown flakes and my shoulder was numbed by the cold of the polar ice cap.

I opened my eyes.

The unwelcoming committee was gone. There was just Jabby and Uncle and Auntie.