Hieroglyphics And Other Stories. Anne Donovan

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      Hieroglyphics

       And Other Stories

      Anne Donovan

       For Colum, with love

      CONTENTS

      Hieroglyphics

      All that Glisters

      The Ice Horse

      Virtual Pals

      Dear Santa

      Wanny the Lassies

      A Chitterin Bite

      Me and the Babbie

      Away in a Manger

      The Doll’s House

      Brambling

      The Workshop

      Marking Time

      A Ringin Frost

      A Change of Hert

      Dindy

      Loast

      Zimmerobics

       HIEROGLYPHICS

      Ah mind they were birlin and dancin roond like big black spiders. Ah couldnae keep a haunle on them fur every time ah thoat ah’d captured them, tied them thegither in some kindy order, they jist kept on escapin.

       Just learn the rules, pet. Just learn them off by heart.

      But they didnae follow oany rules that ah could make sense of. M-A-R-Y. That’s ma name. Merry. But that wus spelt different fae Merry Christmas that you wrote in the cards you made oot a folded up bits a cardboard an yon glittery stuff that comes in thae wee tubes. You pit the glue on the card and shake the glitter and it’s supposed tae stick in a nice wee design. It wisnae ma fault, ah didnae mean tae drap the whole load ae it on the flerr. But how come flerr wisnae spelt the same as merry and sterr wis different again and ma heid wis nippin wi coff and laff and though and bow, meanin a bit aff a tree. Ah thoat it wis Miss Mackay that wis aff her tree, right enough.

       A pride of lions

       A gaggle of geese

       A flock of sheep

       A plague of locusts

      We hud tae learn aw they collective nouns aff by hert, chantin roond the class every afternoon when we came back in fae wur dinner, sittin wi oor airms foldit lookin oot the high windaes at the grey bloacks a flats and the grey streets, and sometimes the sky wisnae grey but maistly it wis. And ah could of tellt you the collective noun for every bliddy animal in the world practically, but it wis a bitty a waste when you think on it. Ah mean it would of come in handy if Drumchapel ever got overrun wi lions. You could of lookt oot the windae at some big hairy orange beast devourin yer wee sister and turn to yer mammy and say

       Look, mammy, oor Catherine’s been et by a pride of lions

      and huv the comfort a knowin ye were usin the correct terminology, but ah huv tae tell you it never happened. No even a floacky sheep ever meandered doon Kinfauns Drive of a Friday evenin (complete wi Mary and her little lamb who had mistaken their way). In fact, ah never seen any animals barrin Alsatian dugs and scabby auld cats till the trip tae the Calderpark Zoo in Primary Four.

       She lacks concentration.

       She’s lazy, ye mean.

       No, I don’t think she’s lazy, there is a genuine difficulty there.

       She’s eight year auld an she canny read nor write yet.

      Ma mammy thoat ah wis daft, naw, no daft exactly, no the way wee Helen fae doon the street wis. Ah mean she didnae even go tae the same school as us an she couldnae talk right an she looked at ye funny and aw the weans tried tae avoid playin wi her in the street. Ma mammy knew ah could go the messages an dae stuff roond the hoose and talk tae folk, ah wis jist daft at school subjects, the wans that involved readin or writin oanyway. Fur a while efter she went up tae see the teacher ah got some extra lessons aff the remmy wumman but ah hated it. She wis nice tae me at furst but then when ah couldnae dae the hings she wis geein me she began tae get a bit scunnered. A hink she thoat ah wis lazy, and ah could never tell them aboot the letters diddlin aboot and oanyway, naebdy ever asked me whit it wis like. They gave me aw these tests an heard ma readin and tellt ma ma ah hud a readin age of 6.4 an a spellin age of 5.7 and Goad knows whit else, but naebdy ever asked me whit wis gaun oan in ma heid. So ah never tellt them.

      And efter a while the extra lessons stoaped. They were dead nice tae me at school but. Maisty the time the teacher gied me the colourin in tae dae an when ah wis in Primary Seven ah goat tae run aw the messages an helped oot wi the wee wans. No wi their readin of course, but gettin their paints mixed an takin them tae the toilet an pittin oot the mulk fur them.

      Mary is so good with the younger children, I don’t know what I’m going to do without my little assistant when she goes to the High School.

      A big rid brick buildin bloackin oot the sky. Spiky railins wi green paint peelin aff them. Hard grey tarmac space wi weans loupin aw ower the place, playin chasies in the yerd, joukin aboot roond the teachers motors; the big yins, sophisticated, hingin aboot the corner, huvin a fly puff afore the bell goes. And us, wee furst years, aw shiny an poalished-lookin in wur new uniforms (soon tae be discardit), staunin in front ae the main door, waitin tae be tellt where we’re gaun.

       Just copy the class rules off the board into your jotter.

      Anither brand new jotter. Anither set a rules tae copy. This is the last period a the day and the sixth time ah’ve hud tae dae it. Could they no jist huv wan lot a rules fur every class? It takes me that long tae copy the rules oot that the lesson’s nearly finished and ah’ve missed it. The French teacher took wan look at the dug’s dinner ah wis producin an tellt me no tae bother. And the Maths teacher asked me ma name an looked me up in a list.

       You’re Mary Ryan, are you? Mmm.

      Must of been the remmy list. Ah’m no remmy at Maths right enough — it’s jist ah cannae read the stuff. If sumbdy tells me whit tae dae ah kin usually dae it, ah jist cannae read it masel in thae wee booklets. It’s funny how the numbers never seem tae bid aroond the way the letters dae; mibby it’s because there urny usually as many numbers in a number as there are letters in a word, if ye know whit ah mean. Or is it because ye read them across the way and ye dae Maths doon the way? Mibby if ah lived in wanny thae countries where they wrote doon the way ah’d be aw right. Ah mean no everybdy writes like we dae. We done a project on it in Primary Five and there’s aw kinds a ways a writin in the world. Some folk read right tae left and some up and doon. And they Egyptians drew wee pictures fur aw their writin. Ah hink ah should of been an Egyptian.

       And what’s this supposed to be-hieroglyphics?

      Ah hated that sarky bastard. Mr Kelly. Skelly, we cried him though he wisnae actually skelly; he used tae squint at ye through wan eye as if he wis examining ye through a microscope an hid jist discovered some new strain a bacteria that could wipe oot the entire population a Glesga. He wis the Latin teacher but he hud hardly oany classes because naebdy done Latin noo so they’d gied him oor class fur English, and then every time a teacher wis aff sick he used tae take the class, so ah began seein a loaty him. And that wis bad news.

      Ye see ah’d never felt like this afore wi oany ither teachers. Ah knew whit they were thinkin of me right enough, ah could see it in their eyes, but maisty them jist thoat ah wis a poor wee sowl that couldnae learn oanythin, so whit wis the point