Tell me why Gabriella is calling
my
business manager. Why does she think Marc provided for her in his will?”
And then I ask the question I’ve been afraid of. “Was he having an affair with her?”
Silence on the other end.
“Phillipe, answer me!”
“They have a child together, Alys. Gabby and Marc have a child Hannah’s age,” he says in a resigned voice. “Maybe she’s a little younger.”
Dark. I can hear someone far away calling, “Sir, help me.” I cry out the same thing but my mouth, my nose, my ears are full of cold, thick stuff and nothing comes out. I can’t breathe well. The air won’t go in too far. My arms are pinned to my side, but I can still feel the shilling in my hand.
C HAPTER T HREE
A BERFAN, W ALES
O CTOBER 13, 1972
M am calls me home from Hallie’s. I hear the bell loud and clear. We are in the middle of playing dress-up in Hallie’s attic, our favorite game. Hallie’s long blond hair is pulled back, and on top of her head is a crown we made with aluminum paper and hair grips. She has a white petticoat pulled up under her arms, and she is wearing her mam’s red high heels. The petticoat keeps falling down because she doesn’t have bosoms. Hallie says she’s glad. “If you have bosoms, you can’t sleep on your tummy. Can you imagine? I could never fall asleep on my back.” Finally we hike her petticoat up with a tie from an old bathrobe.
I have on a pink tutu that is kind of small on me. And of course my hair is in a tight bun. I even have pink tights. We are pretending to be famous Russian ballet dancers, which is what we are going to be when we grow up. We have made a pact. We are going to live in Moscow and dance in Red Square.
I love playing at Hallie’s house because her mam never bothers us. She lets us alone for hours. Sometimes she’ll even set a snack outside the door for us: milky tea, Marmite and butter spread on sweet biscuits. Only a whisper through a crack in the door to tell us she’s brought it up.
Hallie’s mam and da never holler at each other. In fact, they are lovey-dovey, kissing all the time. Niko, Hallie’s brother, is still really little. He stays out of our way mostly. Maybe once or twice a visit, he will crawl up the stairs and push the door open. We see him stick his head round, but he never says anything. He is just two.
Hallie lives down the row, three houses away from mine. When my mam wants me home she rings the bell. It is my gram’s bell from when she was a little girl, the same one her mam used to call her home, a large bell with a black wooden handle. It is so loud you can hear it down the road.
I love when Gram tells me the story of her mam, Great-gram, and how she used to live on a farm way up in the high country, North Wales. Real farm people, they were.
“They had so many sheep on their hillside, lambs in the spring of course, covering everywhere like white tulips. They needed two sheepdogs to fetch them in at night. And huge mountains, not measly hills like we have here. In the winter they are always covered in heavy snow. One time, my da took me up to spend the whole summer with his people. Left me there all on my own. They are the ones taught me how to milk a goat and dig a potato. I’d be out first thing in the morning till last thing at night, the stars lighting my way home. I remember that summer as if it was last week. The wildflowers were over my head and I used to lie down in them and watch the clouds scudding across the blue like it was the ocean.”
The way Gram’s parents met is my favorite story, and I make Gram tell me again and again.
“Great-granda was with his da. They’d come up the mountain to try and round up some men to work the new mines in the valley here. Great-granda was coming out of the pub the evening they arrived. He was tall and handsome, a strut to his walk.”
I love this part. Gram’s voice gets real deep when she gets to this part in the story.
“He almost bumped headlong into
my
business manager. Why does she think Marc provided for her in his will?”
And then I ask the question I’ve been afraid of. “Was he having an affair with her?”
Silence on the other end.
“Phillipe, answer me!”
“They have a child together, Alys. Gabby and Marc have a child Hannah’s age,” he says in a resigned voice. “Maybe she’s a little younger.”
Dark. I can hear someone far away calling, “Sir, help me.” I cry out the same thing but my mouth, my nose, my ears are full of cold, thick stuff and nothing comes out. I can’t breathe well. The air won’t go in too far. My arms are pinned to my side, but I can still feel the shilling in my hand.
C HAPTER T HREE
A BERFAN, W ALES
O CTOBER 13, 1972
M am calls me home from Hallie’s. I hear the bell loud and clear. We are in the middle of playing dress-up in Hallie’s attic, our favorite game. Hallie’s long blond hair is pulled back, and on top of her head is a crown we made with aluminum paper and hair grips. She has a white petticoat pulled up under her arms, and she is wearing her mam’s red high heels. The petticoat keeps falling down because she doesn’t have bosoms. Hallie says she’s glad. “If you have bosoms, you can’t sleep on your tummy. Can you imagine? I could never fall asleep on my back.” Finally we hike her petticoat up with a tie from an old bathrobe.
I have on a pink tutu that is kind of small on me. And of course my hair is in a tight bun. I even have pink tights. We are pretending to be famous Russian ballet dancers, which is what we are going to be when we grow up. We have made a pact. We are going to live in Moscow and dance in Red Square.
I love playing at Hallie’s house because her mam never bothers us. She lets us alone for hours. Sometimes she’ll even set a snack outside the door for us: milky tea, Marmite and butter spread on sweet biscuits. Only a whisper through a crack in the door to tell us she’s brought it up.
Hallie’s mam and da never holler at each other. In fact, they are lovey-dovey, kissing all the time. Niko, Hallie’s brother, is still really little. He stays out of our way mostly. Maybe once or twice a visit, he will crawl up the stairs and push the door open. We see him stick his head round, but he never says anything. He is just two.
Hallie lives down the row, three houses away from mine. When my mam wants me home she rings the bell. It is my gram’s bell from when she was a little girl, the same one her mam used to call her home, a large bell with a black wooden handle. It is so loud you can hear it down the road.
I love when Gram tells me the story of her mam, Great-gram, and how she used to live on a farm way up in the high country, North Wales. Real farm people, they were.
“They had so many sheep on their hillside, lambs in the spring of course, covering everywhere like white tulips. They needed two sheepdogs to fetch them in at night. And huge mountains, not measly hills like we have here. In the winter they are always covered in heavy snow. One time, my da took me up to spend the whole summer with his people. Left me there all on my own. They are the ones taught me how to milk a goat and dig a potato. I’d be out first thing in the morning till last thing at night, the stars lighting my way home. I remember that summer as if it was last week. The wildflowers were over my head and I used to lie down in them and watch the clouds scudding across the blue like it was the ocean.”
The way Gram’s parents met is my favorite story, and I make Gram tell me again and again.
“Great-granda was with his da. They’d come up the mountain to try and round up some men to work the new mines in the valley here. Great-granda was coming out of the pub the evening they arrived. He was tall and handsome, a strut to his walk.”
I love this part. Gram’s voice gets real deep when she gets to this part in the story.
“He almost bumped headlong into
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