The doctor said it was a stroke and when Daddy tried to say things he couldn’t. For a long time his words were all jumbled like he had too many in his mouth. He sometimes stared at his hands like they belonged to someone else.
Mammy moved into my bedroom because Daddy couldn’t sleep right, and I moved in with my brothers.
The worst thing was that he wasn’t able to turn the pages of his Bible anymore, but Mammy had an idea. She took out her makeup bag and put hairpins on his favorite pages so they stuck out the top. Then Daddy was able to flip the hairpins using the back of his hand, and he was happy then even though it was hard for him to smile.
Daddy has a face that, if you don’t know it, you might think he’s angry when he smiles, but it’s like a special password, the way his mouth turns.
* * *
EACH NIGHT it was like we were digging a secret tunnel. I never stayed up so late before. We cut the logs until they were thin, smoothed them out, and made little round rims at the top, so they looked like the front of our banisters. That was the hardest part. Then we used paintbrushes to put on the preservative and even some polish so the logs would be nice and fancy and dark brown.
We used up all the kerosene and we had to work fast just to keep our fingers warm. Mammy gave me a pair of gloves, Daddy’s old ones. They were yellow and I thought about the white gloves of the marching men. I could picture their nice gloves around the poles and the big shiny buttons they wear on their coats.
We made four poles the second night and seven the third. We got so fast that we made twelve on the fourth night. They kept getting better and better. The little round pieces at the top were perfect.
On the last night we finished the job early. We stacked the forty poles in the corner of the mill near the door. They were leaning together like a whole big forest all smoothed out.
Mammy ran her fingers over a couple of the poles and when she got a splinter in her hand she said, Oh, sugar.
She sanded the pole down again and then we walked back across the courtyard. She sucked the little bit of blood from her finger. It was late. There were millions of stars in the sky and the moon was smaller than before. All the snow had melted away and the ground was muddy now.
We kicked off our boots at the front door and in the kitchen we ate some bread and butter and apricot jam.
Mammy went to have a bath and I went to my room. My brothers were sleeping away. They were breathing at different paces and they were a bit like a caterpillar the way they moved. I thought about squashing them.
I didn’t sleep very well. I kept tossing and turning and then I had to help Roger back to sleep because he started crying. I went downstairs to get him some hot milk but there was none left in the silver canister. Mammy was sitting there with her head in her hands. She didn’t notice me until I dropped the lid of the canister and it made a big clang. She took me over to her and gave me a big kiss on the head, which made me feel silly.
I went back upstairs and missed all the creaky points.
Roger cried when he heard there was no milk but at last he went to sleep and they all started breathing again in their caterpillar way.
I pulled up the covers and made a tunnel underneath. I was thinking of what it would be like to go there just once, to see the men in bowler hats carrying the poles along the street. Lots of people cheering and blowing on whistles and drums playing. Ice-cream vans giving out free choc ices. All the crowd would stand up on the tips of their toes and say My oh my, look at that, aren’t they wonderful poles, aren’t they lovely?
* * *
WHEN I WOKE UP it was still dark like it always is in winter. The wind was blowing hard.
Mammy was on the landing already dressed.
We went into Daddy’s room and closed the door behind us. He had the Bible open on his chest. The hairpins were sticking out. She brushed his teeth and got him to spit into the pan and then she told him I was mad keen on shaving him in the morning, was that all right?
Daddy said that would be all right as long as I didn’t hack his face to pieces. He was just about able to get his words out proper.
I said, Great.
I ran downstairs and heated some water in the kitchen and then I got the white basin that was made from old china. His blade and the soap were under the sink. The towels and washcloth were already folded on the table.
I took a quick look out the window and Mammy had the poles stacked up in the center of the courtyard. She was looking down the laneway and waiting for the van to come and pick them up.
I balanced the blade across the bowl and carried the things out of the kitchen. I didn’t care about the stairs anymore. I even pressed heavier so he would know I was coming. He was already waiting for me. He smelled a bit like he needed a bath. I flipped on the radio by the bed and turned it up a bit just like Mammy told me to. The news was on, there was something about queues in the petrol stations.
Daddy was propped up in the pillows and I put a towel behind his head and he gave that funny smile he has.
He said, Heated the water, did you?
I nodded and dipped a washcloth into the bowl and wet the side of his face. I was listening hard under the radio for the sound of the van coming along the laneway. There was nothing but the wind blowing outside. When his face was wet I put the soap in a lather and tried to smooth it out on his face and my fingers were a little shaky.
The radio had gone from news to ads.
I got the soap on his face and took the blade — Daddy calls it a straight blade — and started like Mammy does, at the bottom of his neck where he has all these tiny little bumps. He closed his eyes like always. The blade went slow. I didn’t want to cut him, but he told me to go faster, not to worry, it was a better shave if you went quicker.
You’ll do it one day soon yourself, son, he said.
I heard my brothers getting up in the room. They were shouting and laughing and hitting each other with pillows.
Daddy moved a little and some soap got on his pillow. I wiped it off, then went up along the side of his cheek to his sideburns. His eyes stayed closed. I went quickly over the left side of his face.
Good lad, he said.
I was praying the van would come soon. Music started on the radio and Daddy told me to turn it off, but I pretended I didn’t hear him and kept shaving away. The black and gray hairs made funny little patterns on the blade, along with the soap. I wiped it carefully on the end of the towel.
He said, Turn the radio off, son.
I said, Ah please, Daddy.
Are you listening to your father? he said. Turn that mess off right now.
I reached across and flipped the radio off. Just then I heard the van in the laneway and he heard it too. It turned in at the gate and made a squishy sound as it went through the puddles.
I could see by the way Daddy’s forehead creased that he was wondering. I told him it must be the postman coming early and I pretended to look out the window and I said, Aye it’s a red van, it must be the post. Really it was a blue van. I turned the radio on again so he wouldn’t hear any sounds or van doors or the poles being loaded or any other noise that might happen. But he told me straight to turn the radio off again, no ifs ands or buts.
I started shaving his chin and then I moved up to his mustache and thought I should have washed my hands better because maybe there was still the smell of wood and preservative on my fingers.
My hands got very trembly.
The blade touched against his top lip but it didn’t bring any blood. With his eyes closed, he looked like he was thinking about something very carefully.
They’re very early, he said.
Aye.
This is the earliest I ever heard them.