Читать книгу She’s Not There - Tamsin Grey - Страница 14

The bells were a lovely sound. Jonah listened with his eyes closed, imagining the monks in their monastery in the misty mountains. Then Raff came running in, like a tornado.

‘There’s some guy swearing his head off in the street! You got to hear him, fam!’

Jonah opened his eyes and watched his little brother scamper around the bed, holding up his pyjama bottoms, which had lost their elastic. He realised he was still clutching the red phone, and put it down next to the lipsticky wine glass.

‘What’s that? Where’s Mayo? Why have you got her phone?’ One of Raff’s cornrows had started to come out. ‘Anyway, come on, you got to hurry. You seriously got to hear this!’

Jonah switched off the bells and followed his brother into their bedroom, where he was already leaning too far out of the window. ‘Be careful, Raff!’ He squashed in beside him, putting an arm around his waist. His skin felt very warm and dry.

‘Oh my days! It’s the bloomin’ Raggedy Man!’ Raff leaned even further, and Jonah tightened his hold. ‘But he never talks!’ said Raff. ‘Why is he saying those things?’

Jonah looked down, and saw that the Raggedy Man had moved from outside the squatters’ house and was on the pavement directly below. ‘I don’t know.’

‘He got issues, man! Who is he talking to? Oi! You talking to us?’ Jonah tried to clap his hand over Raff’s mouth, but Raff wriggled out of his hold. He pranced, making signs with his fingers. ‘Don’t call me snake tongue, you fuckin’ rat, you crazy fuckin’ vampire bat!’ he hissed, his cute face all mean.

‘Don’t say fuck, Raff.’

‘Why? He said it!’ Raff yanked up his pyjama bottoms. ‘And you just said it, you fuckin’ giraffe neck!’

‘Anyway. It’s time to get dressed.’ Their school uniforms would be downstairs, among the dirty washing on the kitchen floor. Out in the street, the Green Shop door opened, and the Raggedy Man fell silent. The Green Shop Man came out, holding the stick with the hook on the end that he used to push up his metal blinds. Raff aimed an imaginary catapult at him, pulling back the stone in the sling, then letting go, his fingers exploding into a star, his lips blowing a kind of raspberry. ‘Phwoof! Right in the head!’ His pyjama bottoms fell to his ankles. He reached down to pull them back up. ‘Is it Haredale’s Got Talent this week?’

‘Yes. Thursday.’

‘Yesss!’ Raff went spinning off, doing his dance again. ‘Is Mayo writing her diary in the garden, like yesterday?’

‘No.’

‘Oh my days! It’s Sports Day on Thursday too!’

‘Yes.’ It would be a bit of a scramble, Mr Mann had said, but he didn’t want to deprive the athletes of their moments of glory; and parents who were already planning to come to the talent show could come early and kill two birds with one stone.

‘Is she still better, or is she back to being ill?’ Raff had stopped dancing.

‘Better.’ Brighter. The squiggly words on the fluttering page.

‘Where is she, anyway?’ Raff was suddenly very still, his tortoiseshell eyes fixed on Jonah.

‘I’m not sure. Probably gone to the park.’

The Green Shop Man pushed at his stick. The huge noise of the metal blinds going up filled the air.