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Authors: Colm Tóibín
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could not think what the sound was. She woke and tried to go back to sleep, but the noise persisted, and then she heard her grandmother moving in the room above and coming down the stairs. As though alert to her movements, Declan began to scream, and Helen jumped out of bed and ran into his room. He had sounded as though someone were attacking him.
They woke him, but he could not come out of the dream. He continued to scream and cry, even when they brought him into the kitchen and gave him a drink of milk and offered him a biscuit. He was frightened by something, and did not fully recognise either of them, and then slowly he began to calm down, but he said nothing, stared ahead of him, or at the light, and for a while they were unsure whether he was still living in his dream. And then he was fine again, but he would not go back to his room until the light was left on.
The nightmares changed him; during the day he became withdrawn, and often, as they went through a lesson or played cards, he became forgetful and distant and she would remind him where he was and that became a joke between them. But the dream did not stop, although some nights he would sleep soundly. On the other nights, as soon as his shouting began, both Helen and her grandmother would run to him and always — it was the same each time — it would take five or ten minutes to calm him down and bring him back to the world they lived in.
His grandmother wondered if he had worms or if he might be sickening for something, and she brought him to the doctor in Blackwater. "He refused to go into the surgery unless Helen came as well. She watched the doctor examine him, check his tongue and tonsils and the whites of his eyes, listen to his breathing through a stethoscope. The doctor asked him if he was afraid of anything and he said no.
'And so what are your dreams about?'
Declan looked at the doctor and thought for a while.
'If I think about it too much, it'll come back,' he said.
'But just tell me what it is.'
'I'm small, I'm tiny, like the smallest things, and everything is huge and I'm floating.'
'You mean everything else is huge.'
'Yes.'
'And is that frightening?'
'Yes.'
'And he won't eat,' his grandmother interrupted. 'I can't get him to eat.'
'Oh, he's well nourished,' the doctor said. 'I wouldn't worry about that.'
Declan was still staring ahead, thinking. 'I kind of forget the dream after I've had it,' he said.
The doctor said that Declan should move his bed into the room with Helen and maybe he'd feel safer then. 'A lot of boys have nightmares for a while like that and they just go away.' He pinched Declan's cheek.
• • •
Helen watched the post. The postman came at eleven. He delivered the newspaper as well, and if there was no post he dropped the newspaper in the door, but if there was post he knocked on the door, and handed the letters to her grandmother. Her mother's letters were short and vague; she used the same words each time. Helen wondered if her father were really having tests, why the tests could not be over, why they did not produce results.
One day — she could not remember what month it was — a letter came from her mother which her grandmother did not show her and which later, when Helen asked about it, her grandmother told her did not arrive. Helen was sure it had been delivered and searched with her eyes over the mantelpiece where the letters were kept, but it was not there. Her grandmother knew how to hide things. And the next day she heard her grandmother whispering to Mrs Furlong, and she felt she understood the reason for the whispering: there was something in the letter which she could not be told.
In all the months in Cush — by this time, she was sure, they had been there for three or four months — Helen and Declan had never discussed how long they would be there or what was happening to them, but as soon as Declan brought up the subject they could not stop discussing
They woke him, but he could not come out of the dream. He continued to scream and cry, even when they brought him into the kitchen and gave him a drink of milk and offered him a biscuit. He was frightened by something, and did not fully recognise either of them, and then slowly he began to calm down, but he said nothing, stared ahead of him, or at the light, and for a while they were unsure whether he was still living in his dream. And then he was fine again, but he would not go back to his room until the light was left on.
The nightmares changed him; during the day he became withdrawn, and often, as they went through a lesson or played cards, he became forgetful and distant and she would remind him where he was and that became a joke between them. But the dream did not stop, although some nights he would sleep soundly. On the other nights, as soon as his shouting began, both Helen and her grandmother would run to him and always — it was the same each time — it would take five or ten minutes to calm him down and bring him back to the world they lived in.
His grandmother wondered if he had worms or if he might be sickening for something, and she brought him to the doctor in Blackwater. "He refused to go into the surgery unless Helen came as well. She watched the doctor examine him, check his tongue and tonsils and the whites of his eyes, listen to his breathing through a stethoscope. The doctor asked him if he was afraid of anything and he said no.
'And so what are your dreams about?'
Declan looked at the doctor and thought for a while.
'If I think about it too much, it'll come back,' he said.
'But just tell me what it is.'
'I'm small, I'm tiny, like the smallest things, and everything is huge and I'm floating.'
'You mean everything else is huge.'
'Yes.'
'And is that frightening?'
'Yes.'
'And he won't eat,' his grandmother interrupted. 'I can't get him to eat.'
'Oh, he's well nourished,' the doctor said. 'I wouldn't worry about that.'
Declan was still staring ahead, thinking. 'I kind of forget the dream after I've had it,' he said.
The doctor said that Declan should move his bed into the room with Helen and maybe he'd feel safer then. 'A lot of boys have nightmares for a while like that and they just go away.' He pinched Declan's cheek.
• • •
Helen watched the post. The postman came at eleven. He delivered the newspaper as well, and if there was no post he dropped the newspaper in the door, but if there was post he knocked on the door, and handed the letters to her grandmother. Her mother's letters were short and vague; she used the same words each time. Helen wondered if her father were really having tests, why the tests could not be over, why they did not produce results.
One day — she could not remember what month it was — a letter came from her mother which her grandmother did not show her and which later, when Helen asked about it, her grandmother told her did not arrive. Helen was sure it had been delivered and searched with her eyes over the mantelpiece where the letters were kept, but it was not there. Her grandmother knew how to hide things. And the next day she heard her grandmother whispering to Mrs Furlong, and she felt she understood the reason for the whispering: there was something in the letter which she could not be told.
In all the months in Cush — by this time, she was sure, they had been there for three or four months — Helen and Declan had never discussed how long they would be there or what was happening to them, but as soon as Declan brought up the subject they could not stop discussing
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