Hieroglyphics And Other Stories. Anne Donovan

glitter glue and then at ma daddy’s haun lyin on the bedcover, bones stickn oot and veins showin through. Ah took his haun in mines and turnt it roon so his palm faced upwards.

       Look, daddy.

      Ah showed him the middle finger of ma right haun, which wis thick wi solid gold, then pressed doon on his palm. The imprint of ma finger left sparkly wee trails a light.

      He smiled, a wavery wee smile.

       Aye, hen. Subtle.

      That night ah lay awake fur a while imaginin aw the things ah could dae wi the glitter pens. Ah really wanted tae make sumpn fur ma daddy’s Christmas wi them. The tips of ma fingers were still covered in glitter, and they sparkled in the daurk. Ah pressed ma fingers aw ower the bedclothes so they gleamed in the light fae the streetlamps ootside, then ah fell intae a deep glistery sleep.

      £3.49 for a pack of four. And ah hud wan ninety-three in ma purse.

      Ah lifted the pack and walked to the check-oot.

       Much are they?

      Three forty-nine.

       Aye, but much are they each?

      The wumman at the till hud dyed jet-black hair and nae eyebrows.

       We don’t sell them individually.

      She spat oot the word individually as if it wis sumpn disgusting.

      Aye, but you’ll get mair fur them. Look, you can have wan ninety- three fur two.

      Ah’ve already tellt you that we don’t sell them individually, ah cannae split the pack.

      Ah could see there wis nae point in arguin wi her so ah turnt roon and walked towards the shelf tae pit them back. If Donna’d been wi me, she’d just have knocked them. She’s aye takin sweeties an rubbers an wee things like that. She’s that casual aboot it, she can jist walk past a shelf and wheech sumpn intae her pocket afore anybdy notices, never gets caught. And she’s that innocent-lookin, wi her blonde frizzy curls an her neat school uniform naebdy wid guess tae look at her she wis a tea-leaf.

      She’s aye on tae me tae dae it, but ah cannae. Ah suppose it’s cos of ma ma and da, they’re dead agin thievin. Donna widnae rob hooses or steal sumpn oot yer purse but she disnae think stealin oot a shop is stealin. A lot of folk think like that. Donna’s big brother Jimmy wanst tried tae explain tae me that it wis OK tae steal ooty shops cos they made such big profits that they were really stealin affy us (the workin classes he cries us though he husny worked a day in his life) and they’re aw insured anyway so it disnae matter. Even though ah can see the sense in whit Jimmy’s sayin, well, ma daddy says stealin is stealin, and ah cannae go against his word.

      In the end ah sellt ma dinner tickets tae big Maggie Hughes and all week ah wis starvin for ah only hud an apple or a biscuit ma ma gied me fur a playpiece. But on Friday it wis worth it when ah went doon the shops at lunchtime tae buy the pens. It wis a different wumman that served me and she smiled as she pit them in a wee plastic poke.

       Are you gonnae make Christmas decorations, hen?

       Ah’m no sure.

       Ah got some fur ma wee boy an he loved them.

       Aye, they’re dead good. Thanks.

      Ah couldnae wait tae show them tae ma da, but as soon as ah opened the door of the hoose ah knew there wis sumpn wrang. It wis that quiet, nae telly, nae radio on in the kitchen. Ma mammy wis sittin on the settee in the livin room. Her face wis white and there were big black lines under her eyes.

       Mammy, whit’s…

       C’mere, hen, sit doon beside me.

      She held her weddin ring between the thumb and first finger of her right haun, twistin it roon as she spoke and ah saw how loose it wis on her finger. No long ago it wis that tight she couldnae get it aff.

      Clare, yer daddy had a bad turn jist this afternoon and we had tae go tae the hospital wi him. Ah’m awful sorry, hen, ah don’t know how tae tell you, but yer daddy’s died.

      Ah knew it wis comin, ah think ah’d known since ah walked intae the hoose, but when she said the words the coldness shot through me till ah felt ma bones shiverin and ah heard a voice, far away in anither room, shoutin but the shouts were muffled as if in a fog, and the voice wis shoutin naw, naw, naw!

      And ah knew it wis ma voice.

      We sat there, ma mammy and me, her airms roon me, till ah felt the warmth of her body gradually dissolve the ice of mine. Then she spoke, quiet and soft.

      Now, hen, you know that this is fur the best, no fur us but fur yer daddy.

      Blue veins criss-crossed the back of her haun. Why were veins blue when blood wis red?

      You know yer daddy’d no been well fur a long time. He wis in a lot of pain, and he wisnae gonnae get better. At least this way he didnae suffer as much. He’s at peace noo.

      We sat for a long time, no speakin, just haudin hauns.

      The funeral wis on the Wednesday and the days in between were a blur of folk comin an goin, of makin sandwiches an drinkin mugs of stewed tea, sayin rosaries an pourin oot glasses of whisky for men in overcoats. His body came hame tae the hoose and wis pit in their bedroom. Ma mammy slept in the bed settee in the livin room wi ma Auntie Pauline.

       Are you sure that you want tae see him?

      Ah wis sure. Ah couldnae bear the fact we’d never said goodbye and kept goin ower and ower in ma mind whit ah’d have said tae him if ah’d known he wis gonnae die so soon. Ah wis feart as well, right enough. Ah’d never seen a deid body afore, and ah didnae know whit tae expect, but he looked as if he wis asleep, better in fact than he’d looked when he wis alive, his face had mair colour, wis less yella lookin an lined. Ah sat wi him fur a while in the room, no sayin anythin, no even thinkin really, jist sittin. Ah felt that his goin wis incomplete and ah wanted tae dae sumpn fur him, but that’s daft, whit can you dae when sumbdy’s deid? Ah wondered if ah should ask ma mammy but she wis that withdrawn intae hersel so busy wi the arrangements that ah didnae like tae. She still smiled at me but it wis a watery far-away smile and when she kissed me goodnight ah felt she wis haudin me away fae her.

      On the Wednesday mornin ah got up early, got dressed and went through tae the kitchen. Ma Auntie Pauline wis sittin at the table havin a cuppa tea and a fag and when she looked up her face froze over.

      Whit the hell dae you think you’re daein? Go and get changed this minute.

       But these are ma best claes.

      You cannae wear red tae a funeral You have tae show respect fur the deid.

      But these were ma daddy’s favourites. He said ah looked brilliant in this.

      Ah mind his face when ah came intae the room a couple of month ago, after ma mammy’d bought me this outfit fur ma birthday; a red skirt and a zip-up jaicket wi red tights tae match.

       You’re a sight fur sore eyes, hen.

       That sounds horrible, daddy.

      He smiled at me.

      It disnae mean that, hen, it means you look that nice that you would make sore eyes feel better. Gie’s a twirl, princess.

      And ah birled roon on wan leg, laughin.

      *

       They claes are no suitable for a funeral.

       Ah’m gonnae ask ma mammy.

       Ah turned to go oot the room.

      Don’t