‘I know you’re just a boy, but already you know what it is to lose people. You know more than most, I’m sure. I know you miss your mum. Loss is part of life, but it’s not always easy to bear. Just know that whenever you miss your mum most, or you feel the saddest, know that I know that pain. Sometimes when we lose people that are precious to us, it makes the world a dark place. It’s like that person you loved was a little light and now that they’re gone it’s dark. Just remember that we all have that light, that goodness in us, and just because we’re sad doesn’t mean that we can’t bring happiness, and bringing happiness is being happy … ’
She took a breath so deep that her breasts heaved.
‘In any case, that’s what I learned after Norman and Delia died, but I still can’t talk about them. I hope you understand that, love, and know it’s nothing against you, it’s just the way I feel.’
Norman and Delia. Daniel repeated the names silently. Suddenly, like the chicken he had murdered, the lives rose real and rare before him. Delia was pale as the porcelain butterfly; Norman dark as the poker which they said ended him.
Daniel nodded at Minnie and began to restack the eggs.
‘Was he mean to you?’ said Daniel. His nose was running and his tongue sought it out, salty and clear. He curled his tongue up his lip, but she caught him and wiped his nose roughly with a used tissue that she kept up her cardigan sleeve.
‘Norman, do you mean?’
‘Aye.’
‘Good God, no. He was the best man in the world. A proper gentleman. He was the love of my life.’
Daniel frowned and wiped his nose again with his sleeve.
‘Enough now. Talking about the past does nobody any good.’
At the end of the day, Daniel helped Minnie to load the little produce that was left over into the car, along with the signs and the takings tin. He sat up front as she huffed into the driver’s seat and started the car. She was breathing heavily, her cardigan-ensconced bosom pressing against the steering wheel. The car started on the third attempt, and Daniel began to twiddle the radio dial until he found a song. The signal was poor and fading.
‘Put your seatbelt on,’ said Minnie.
‘OK,’ said Daniel. ‘Can you fix the aerial again like last time, so we can listen to the radio on the way back?’
He liked being in the car with Minnie, but he was not sure why. She was a nervous, jerky driver and the car seemed older than she was. It was exciting when she tightened her fingers on the steering wheel and dared to go fast. There was an element of vague danger. She got out of the car and reshaped the aerial, which had been fashioned from a wire coat-hanger. Daniel gave her the thumbs-up when the signal was clear.
They set off driving through town. There was a hole in the exhaust and Daniel watched as pedestrians stared at their noisy car as it passed. Thinking about the commission that would be his when they counted the money this evening, he started to sing along to the song on the radio. It was Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Daniel leaned forward to tap the beat with his forefingers on the glove box.
Minnie glanced at him then swerved suddenly.
‘What are you doing? What are you … What did I tell you?’ she screamed, and Daniel jumped back in his seat.
She was driving along Main Street towards the Carlisle Road, past rows of parked cars. She swerved again as a delivery van pulled out from Bertie’s Fish and Chips, and was admonished by a loud horn. Minnie jumped at the noise and the car veered across to the other side of the road, near the junction for Longtown Road. Daniel put a hand on the dashboard as Minnie turned the wheel sharply and the car skidded to avoid the delivery van, then banged into the metal railings at the far side of the crossing. Daniel was thrown forward, hitting his head on the dashboard.
A hand on his bump, Daniel crouched on the floor of the car, beside the gear stick. She was staring straight ahead, breathing hard so that her chest heaved; her hands still gripped the wheel. Daniel began to laugh. His head hurt, but it seemed funny to be thrown underneath the dashboard, and for the car to be sitting on the wrong side of the road up against the railings.
The expansive beats of Frankie Goes to Hollywood now seemed too loud in the small car.
Her breathing calmed and she reached down to him. Daniel thought that she was going to rub his head and ask if he was all right. Instead she grabbed him roughly by the arms and pulled him up and into his seat.
‘What on earth were you doing?’ she shouted at him, shaking him. All they had been through together, but not once had she raised her voice. Daniel pulled his shoulders up to his ears and turned so that he had to look at her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were too wide and he could see her teeth. ‘What did I tell you? I asked you to put on your seatbelt. You must wear your seatbelt. What could have happened … ?’
‘I just forgot,’ whispered Daniel.
She took him by the shoulders again. Daniel could feel the pressure of her fingers through his jacket. ‘Well, you can’t forget. You have to do what I say. You have to wear your seatbelt.’
‘OK,’ Daniel said, and then louder, ‘all right.’
Minnie relaxed. She was still holding on to his shoulders but not squeezing him so hard. She was out of breath and her eyes were turned down in distress. ‘I just don’t want anything to happen to you,’ she whispered, and then pulled him into her. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
Daniel felt the warmth of her breath against his hair.
Minnie turned the radio off. They sat in silence for a few moments. Daniel swallowed.
‘All right, put it on now,’ she said, and he did as she asked, clicking the seatbelt into place.
She got out and inspected the bumper and the bonnet, then got back in the car. She cleared her throat and started the engine. He could see her fingers trembling on the steering wheel. Daniel rubbed his arms where she had pressed. They drove in silence back to the farm.
Daniel fed the animals while Minnie started dinner. When he came back inside, stocking feet dirty on the kitchen floor, she was pouring herself a gin. Of late she would wait until after dinner, but now he scratched Blitz’s stretched-out stomach as she poured herself a large glass. He heard the fizz and crack of her ice cubes and looked up. He saw that her hands were still shaking.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking at the dog.
She drank and then exhaled. ‘S’all right, lad. I’m sorry too. Lost it so I did, lost it.’
‘Why d’you drive the car when you hate it so much?’
‘Well, when you’re afraid of something, often the best thing you can do is do that very thing you’re afraid of!’
‘Why are you scared of driving anyway?’
‘Well, I’m sure it’s not really the driving itself. In life most things that frighten us are to do with our own heart and its flaws. You’ll always be afraid of some things – never free from fear itself. But that’s all right. Fear’s like pain, it’s there in your life to teach you about yourself.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Some day you’ll understand.’
Dinner was roast beef, carrots, peas and roast potatoes. Daniel cleared a space on the table and laid out the placemats and cutlery. Chickens fluttered at the window as the day waned. By the time dinner was served, she was on her second gin and her hands had steadied. Daniel felt a familiar, fleeting sadness settle on him, light as a butterfly. He felt his skin goose-pimple. He picked up his fork.