The man who wasn't there

Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn’t there He wasn’t there again today Oh, how I wish he’d go away...

- Hughes Mearns

Beryl swiped at her mouth. Yuck! She didn’t know why granny Frannie insisted on kissing her on the mouth with her cold, dehydrated slug lips.

And almost worse was as she approached:

Her head shaking, old woman eyes, staring widely, eagerly, threatening to swallow Beryl with their raptness then closing the second before impact causing a momentary bump on the cheek before finding the lips. It made Beryl think of sharks, how they close their eyes before biting.

’Happy birthday darl.′ Granny Frannie wheezed.

‘Thank you.’

’Francesca dear? Can you move your car, I know you just got here but Jerry says he can’t open his car door, he can only get in from the left you know.′

That was Granny Greta. Beryl loved her.

Jerry was her son, Beryl’s father. She loved him too.

Granny Greta wasn’t old and gross.

She didn’t wheeze when she talked. Her breath didn’t stink of whiskey(at least she thought it was whiskey, she’d heard Granny Greta using that word when she was talking to Beryl’s dad about Granny Frannie.)She was pretty sure that Granny Greta wouldn’t give her a stupid book for her birthday, just as she was dreadfully sure that Granny Frannie would.

She was turning eight today.

They were all at Granny Greta’s boy friend’s house.

There was her, her dad(Jerry)dressed in a gray suit with a blue tie.(she thought he looked like Heath Ledger except that his hair was brown)She wasn’t exactly sure why he was wearing a suit to her birthday party but she was glad because he looked so handsome.

Granny Greta leaning against the bar under the enclosed patio looked so like a movie star to Beryl, she was wearing a short, red mini skirt that clung to her body and bulged with her boobs and her hair was all done up in a bun with chop sticks crossing each other at the back hold it in place.

She was leaning over and speaking to Uncle George who was behind the bar, Uncle George was having trouble following her, his eyes kept sneaking down from her face to her boobs.

Uncle George(Granny Greta’s boy friend, he was a big man with a big fuzzy, brown mustache that tickled when he leaned down to kiss Beryl and strong hands that felt like sand paper when he pretended to capture her nose(Got your nose!)and showed her his thumb through his index and middle fingers.

There were Steve and Barney two of her dad’s friends also wearing suits but not looking as handsome, they were hovering around Granny Greta with drinks in their hands, and there was Granny Frannie who was now reversing her rusty old Datsun further down the driveway so that Beryl’s dad could get into his car.

They had got here at twelve o’clock, it was now One and so far none of her class-mates had shown up.

Beryl sat by herself on the edge of the pool, pink one-piece now drying and clinging less to her body in the heat of the sun, feet dangling in the pool.

There was a man she didn’t know and hadn’t noticed until now standing at the bar next to Granny Greta. He was dressed in black and his face wasn’t clear. Every time she looked at him her eyes just couldn’t focus on his face. He was looking towards Granny Frannie.

Beryl sighed, an impatient child’s sigh.

She kicked the water with her feet.

’Dadda! Where are they?′ she asked. Jerry turned from his conversation with Uncle George.

‘What honey?’

‘My friends! Dadda! ’

The Steve and Barney were sniggering.

’Where are they Dadda? ′ Barney asked earnestly.

‘I don’t know Beryl.’ he told her shortly, gazing coldly at his friends.

‘Maybe you should go inside and take a nap, and maybe when you wake up all your friends will be here.’ he said turning slowly and when his face met hers he was smiling.

‘But..’

‘No buts. When you wake up we’ll have some lunch and cake, and you can open your presents, alright?’

‘Ok.’

She wouldn’t have said so but the sun had made her a bit tired, that and waiting.

She got her feet out of the pool and clutching her towel went inside.

It was cooler inside. The walls were all rocky and high like a cave in the lounge. It was like being inside a castle. What spoiled the impression were the home entertainment center, including DVD player, surround sound speakers and an 110cm television, and the sleek black leather couches.

Beryl remembered the one time she had stayed over here two months before and had got up to get some water in the middle of the night. She had come out of the spare bedroom upstairs and was coming down the hall when she had heard noises coming from the lounge. The TV was strobing against the ceiling of the lounge in the darkness. Curios, she had crept along the hall hearing soft moaning coming from the TV. And heavy breathing and movement from the couches below. Are they wrestling? She remembered thinking, astonished.

Then she saw them down there in the flickering light of the television, both naked. Now they were kneeling on the rug, Granny Gretta on all fours and Uncle George behind her, pushing against her bum. He had his hands around her neck and was strangling her.

Beryl had screamed.

Later when she had finally calmed down, they sat her down and told her that they were just playing, playing a game that grown-ups played all the time.

’Don’t you know any nice games, like hidinggoseek?′ she’d asked.

‘That’s the grownup version.’ Uncle George had told her, smiling at Granny Greta. She had elbowed him in the ribs.

Granny Greta had told her she would understand when she was older.

If that was true she decided that she didn’t want to get much older. There was no way she wanted to play a game where some boy ended up strangling her and pushing his winkie into her bum.

Beryl went upstairs to the guest bedroom and got changed into her shorts and Pikachu t-shirt. She lay down, staring up at the ceiling for awhile, listening as the murmur of talk by the pool side drifted up to her. Soon she was asleep.

’....think that you can threaten us? You dried up old prune!′

‘George!’ Her dad’s voice.

‘No-one is th-.’

’I don’t need to threaten you Mister Horndale. I’m just telling you why you will not get custody of Beryl.′

Custody?

Beryl sat up groggily.

’You’re scared aren’t you? Scared of being all alone. Well you are! You killed your daughter and now you want to get your hands on Beryl!′

Killed?

Beryl heard someone’s hand meeting someone’s cheek.

In the stunned silence Beryl thought about her mother.

The smell of Johnson’s baby oil and the warm flesh that she snuggled up so close to, clung to as a baby.

No face, no voice.

‘How dare you? You..You Harlot! You know damn well it was an accident.’ Granny Frannie was sobbing now.

Beryl felt suddenly very afraid.

’Of course it was! We all know that, don’t we?′ Her father. He sounded desperate and very young.

‘Mom? We agreed, remember?’

’...Well, if she hadn’t started with all that moralizing, holier-than-thou bullshit...′

‘God sees everything you do Mr Horndale.’ Granny Frannie cut in softly.

‘That’s it! Get the fuck out of my house!’

‘No! Wait! Listen, Beryl‘s still upstairs and she expects to come down and carry on with her birthday party, and I’ve still got to explain all of this to her.’

‘You mean you haven’t told her?’

‘Well.. I thought it would be.. easier if I only told her just before I leave, you know...’ Leave?

‘Easier for who?’

’Oh come off it mom! She’ll have you all here to comfort her!. Anyway it’s too late to change things now.I’m going upstairs now to wake my child up so she can have some birthday cake and open her presents.′

Beryl saw herself turning and launching out the bedroom window, glass breaking, cutting her all over, then the ground rushing up at her......

‘Beryl? Why are you crying sweetheart?’

She was.

Not whooping like a baby but crying.

‘I don’t know Dadda!’ she told him. She was a bit confused.

He came over and picked her up out of the bed.

‘Was it a bad dream?’

‘Bad!’ she agreed.

‘You want some birthday cake?’

’Oh! Yes pleeeese!′

They were all gathered in the lounge, the lights had been dimmed(It was dusk outside and a wind was rattling against the closed screen door.)and on the little coffee table in the center of the room was her cake(they all were gathered around it like priests, except the man in the black suit who she had seen earlier, he was standing in one corner by the bunch of balloons.)with all eight candles lit and glowing.

As she descended the stairs they sang.

′Happy Birthday to you..Happy Birthday to you...′ All except the man in the black suit who was squeezing the balloons and making that ripping sound with them, as though testing them for weakness.

Then she was at the table, looking at their faces(Uncle George smiling at her blandly and looking a bit wonky on his feet, Granny Greta smiling at her but glancing every now and then across at Granny Frannie and Granny Frannie herself seeming to eat her up with her eyes in that way she had, not smiling but showing her teeth.)

‘Make a wish honey.’

‘Can I wish for anything, Dadda?’

‘Of course, dear.’

She knew what she was going to wish for.

Beryl closed her eyes tightly and wished with all her might, then she opened her eyes and blew out all her candles.

In the darkness a balloon popped and everyone gasped.

‘George, how about some lights? It’s like a tomb in here.’

Someone collapsed onto the couch.

George stumbled over to the dimmer switch.

‘Francesca? Are you alright? Francesca?’

Granny Frannie was staring glassy eyed from her seat on the couch.

’It came true!’Beryl whispered.