Prologue #2
‘No, you’re all right, love. It’s the only exercise I get nowadays!’
Marnie Woods had lived on the Brenton Park estate since she was a child, taking over the lease from her mother when she died almost twenty years ago now.
The casual observer might see the grime, the grotty communal walkways, the urine-scented lifts, the graffiti, the large dumpster from which garbage overspilled, the abandoned rusting cars and vans, the kids clustering in the foot of stairwells smoking pungent weed, and the loud, loud fights conducted in several languages that were the inevitable consequence of living in such close proximity, the uneven paving stones, and the clots of dog shit peppering the thin grass wherever it sprouted.
But Marnie knew better than to be fooled by such aesthetics.
She more than understood that what the untrained eye did not see was what made the place remarkable: the kindness of neighbours, the strong bond of those who had grown up there and the sense of pride that, when the chips were down, they rallied together.
All anyone had to do was ask that young woman on the fourteenth floor whose baby son was proper poorly, something to do with his liver, just how their community worked.
The Residents’ Committee had figured out that if each flat gave a couple of quid, the little one could have his mum on hand for gruelling treatments, and they could travel by cab.
Nearly everyone had given and it had been perfect.
The woman and her family, having only arrived on the estate eighteen months ago, had felt the arms of her neighbours around her.
It didn’t change the bowed stance of deep worry that aged her, nor the blank-eyed stare of impotence that she wore as she walked to the shops or took the older kids to school, but Marnie hoped, in time, it might act as a balm of sorts.
To know that they were thinking of her. To know they had her back.
‘Where’s your sock, Edith?’ the old lady hollered as she held the dripping bag at arm’s length.
‘Oh, me and Travis had to bury Minty, who died today. We put her in my sock and dug a hole by the goalpost on the playing field. But that’s a secret, Mrs Nelson. We don’t want anyone else to know in case they dig her up.’
‘Sweet Jesus! Who’d dig her up?’ Mrs Nelson shook her head at the horror of the idea. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss and may she rest in peace. I’m assuming she was a creature small enough to fit in a sock?’
‘She was a mouse, Mrs Nelson. At least, we think she was a mouse. She’d gone a bit flat and a bit... dusty.’ Edith wrinkled her nose.
‘Right! Well, that’s enough detail for us all. Let’s get you home!’ Marnie pulled a face at her neighbour, who laughed.
‘We’re having macaroni cheese!’ The child danced on the spot.
‘Good for you! Reckon I’ll be skipping supper tonight. I’ve a head full of images of Minty that are enough to put me off eating for life!’
‘Sorry about that, Mrs Nelson.’ Marnie was sincere.
‘No, don’t be sorry. I could do with losing a few pounds.’ She patted her ample tum.
‘Only on your body and your wobbly neck thing, Mrs Nelson.’ Edith patted her own chin. ‘Not on your legs! Your legs are like little sticks!’ Edith offered the compliment that was anything but.
‘Mrs Nelson, I...’ Marnie felt her face turn puce as she searched for the right words.
‘What is it they say, Marn? Out of the mouths of babes...’ Mrs Nelson suppressed a laugh.
‘Something like that.’ She smiled at the old woman who trundled to the bins. Marnie couldn’t wait for Doug to get home. He was going to howl at this.
‘Do you think Minty is in heaven?’ This was quite a standard conversation twist for Edith; the verbal darting left and right, up and down.
‘Well...’ Marnie always trod carefully, not wanting to destroy any hope that the little girl might carry, but also unable to lie outright.
‘I think the truthful answer is that I don’t know.
And I think what counts is that you gave her a lovely funeral, which was a very kind way to say goodbye to her. ’
‘But do you think she’s in heaven?’
‘What do you mean by heaven? What do you think it is?’ Marnie stalled.
‘Mouse heaven! Where there’s all the cheese they can eat and tiny mouse cafés and little mouse swimming pools and mouse sweetie shops and mouse hotels and mouse motorways where they drive tiny cars to go to mouse cinemas, and mouse chip shops and mouse pubs...’
She got the idea. This too was a familiar topic for Edith: what happened when people died. Where did they go? Where did they live if they didn’t live with you anymore...? All pieces of the puzzle the child was trying to figure out.
‘I think you have a wonderful imagination! And how great to think of Minty in her tiny car, pootling up and down the motorway to visit swimming pools and cinemas.’
Edith wasn’t done. ‘I think cat heaven – where there are cat beauty parlours and cat shopping malls and cat beaches and cat sunglasses shops and cat restaurants – would be mouse hell, because if Minty turned up there by mistake, she’d just be a snack, wouldn’t she?’
‘I guess she would!’ Marnie chuckled. ‘You amaze me, Edith Woods. You’re quite right, you know; one person’s heaven could be another person’s hell, and that’s very smart.’
‘Like Pop with prawns.’
Marnie laughed harder and squeezed her hand. Her beloved girl. It was a fact in their home that she and Edith loved a treat of a prawn cocktail or a prawn sandwich, but her husband found them to be slug-like and would heave at the sight of them.
‘Yes, like Pop and prawns.’
The beep of a horn was loud and drew their attention.
Marnie smiled at the sight of the battered blue van pulling alongside them as Dougie wound down his window. She was always pleased to see the man she so loved, who now winked at her. And still, after all these years, his flirting fired a spark inside her.
Edith shook her hand free and ran to the van, poking her head through the window to give her pop a big kiss on the cheek.
He beamed. ‘Hello, little sausage.’
‘Are you coming up? Have you finished for the day?’ She pointed up along the walkway overhead to their flat on the seventh floor, sounding quite adult, as was her way.
‘I have, my love. I got off early – not much doing, I’m afraid.’ A look of defeat flashed across his face that tore at Marnie’s heart. ‘I wondered if I’d see you on your way home.’
‘And here I am!’ Edith jumped up and down on the spot.
‘What happened to your sock?’ Dougie looked quizzically at her bare leg.
‘It’s a long story, my love. A very long story.’ Marnie pulled a face and he nodded his understanding; long stories and the scrapes Edith got into were not strangers to him.
‘We’ll save it for when we get home, then.’ He reached out and ruffled Edith’s hair. Still the little girl bounced, her energy unmatched. ‘See you in a minute, Marn.’
‘Bye, love!’
They stood and watched the van as it drove towards the car park.
‘Do you think Pop might like to see Minty?’
Marnie stopped short on the pavement and stared at the child. ‘Please tell me you’re not thinking of digging her up, are you, Edith?’ She kept her tone stern, her gaze level.
‘Course I’m not!’ They walked on in silence, approaching the concrete steps that would eventually take them up to their floor. ‘But if I did, I’d probably be able to get my sock back...’