Kathy watched the sleeping girl who clutched a pink ragged teddy bear in a loving embrace on the crumpled bed in an old fashioned room with a fireplace and two wooden beds. One bed was empty, but Kathy knew a boy should have been sleeping under the khaki blanket purchased from the Supply Store after the war, when surplus blankets and jackets had been offered cheaply to the needy. The eight-year-old boy frequently suffered from nightmares, and to feel safe he insisted on sleeping with his mother.
In the beginning, when Father had left temporarily to work offshore, a rule had been made … turns about sleeping with Mother. It seemed fair. It seldom worked out! Bobby saw huge bulls on the walls and cried out in fear. Kathy wondered if it was because he was forever poking pieces of long stick through the netting fence at milking time. The cows, with vapour from the cold morning air pouring from their noses and mouths, paced the fence line and made threatening noises and movements towards the antagonizing boy, who always managed to run away fast enough and was never caught. Kathy thought Bobby’s dreams must be the result of a guilty conscience.
She seldom slept in Mother’s bed except on the rare occasion, and even then Bobby would come crawling in crying about bad dreams. In the end it was easier not to bother. If she sneaked the torch under the blankets she could read a few more pages of ‘Black Beauty’ or ‘Heidi’. The world of books filled her mind as she lived, through the written word, the exciting adventures of people and animals. Her imagination soared and she never dreamed of bulls leaping out of walls. In her dreams she rode a dashing black horse over white painted jumps, she flew over ditches, and rode in triumph to the dais to receive the silver trophy proudly displayed on the delicately draped kidney shaped dressing table. Movies were Kathy’s next love. Every Saturday she rode her bicycle to the picture theatre and sat spellbound as cartoons and a serial flashed across the silver screen. The main attraction of a matinee was always suitable for children. She had even seen ‘Heidi’ in the movies. She marveled at the grandeur of the mountains and the almost primitive cottage that Heidi’s Grandfather lived in. She would have loved to spend time with Heidi, but that was only a book, a movie, it was not real life.
A muffled sob came from the other bedroom. Bobby must be dreaming again. She did wish he wouldn’t. It so disturbed her night. She wished Father was home. He would make everything right by playing the upright piano that stood in the corner of the living room. Just by imagining his voice singing, “I’ll take you home again Kathleen” made her feel less alone. It was all right for Bobby. He was young. He was the baby and he could cry. She was a big girl and had to be strong and help Mother. She had promised Father she would.
The sleeping girl lay still. Kathy wondered about her. It was only when she floated up to the ceiling that she noticed the girl, who had her long golden hair tied up in pieces of white sheet to give her ringlets in the morning. Ringlets were the fashion. Kathy looked down. It was a long way to the bed. She had never told anyone about floating up to the ceiling. No one would have believed her. As it was Mother often said Kathy had too vivid an imagination and needed to come back down to earth. Sometimes she thought it might be better to stay up there in the corner of the ceiling. She didn’t know if Mother would see her. She wasn’t sure that Mother would even miss her.
The girl on the bed began to quietly stir, and Kathy taking her cue, gently slid back into the body on the bed. Perhaps she should stop floating, as one day she might not be able to return.
In the beginning, when Father had left temporarily to work offshore, a rule had been made … turns about sleeping with Mother. It seemed fair. It seldom worked out! Bobby saw huge bulls on the walls and cried out in fear. Kathy wondered if it was because he was forever poking pieces of long stick through the netting fence at milking time. The cows, with vapour from the cold morning air pouring from their noses and mouths, paced the fence line and made threatening noises and movements towards the antagonizing boy, who always managed to run away fast enough and was never caught. Kathy thought Bobby’s dreams must be the result of a guilty conscience.
She seldom slept in Mother’s bed except on the rare occasion, and even then Bobby would come crawling in crying about bad dreams. In the end it was easier not to bother. If she sneaked the torch under the blankets she could read a few more pages of ‘Black Beauty’ or ‘Heidi’. The world of books filled her mind as she lived, through the written word, the exciting adventures of people and animals. Her imagination soared and she never dreamed of bulls leaping out of walls. In her dreams she rode a dashing black horse over white painted jumps, she flew over ditches, and rode in triumph to the dais to receive the silver trophy proudly displayed on the delicately draped kidney shaped dressing table. Movies were Kathy’s next love. Every Saturday she rode her bicycle to the picture theatre and sat spellbound as cartoons and a serial flashed across the silver screen. The main attraction of a matinee was always suitable for children. She had even seen ‘Heidi’ in the movies. She marveled at the grandeur of the mountains and the almost primitive cottage that Heidi’s Grandfather lived in. She would have loved to spend time with Heidi, but that was only a book, a movie, it was not real life.
A muffled sob came from the other bedroom. Bobby must be dreaming again. She did wish he wouldn’t. It so disturbed her night. She wished Father was home. He would make everything right by playing the upright piano that stood in the corner of the living room. Just by imagining his voice singing, “I’ll take you home again Kathleen” made her feel less alone. It was all right for Bobby. He was young. He was the baby and he could cry. She was a big girl and had to be strong and help Mother. She had promised Father she would.
The sleeping girl lay still. Kathy wondered about her. It was only when she floated up to the ceiling that she noticed the girl, who had her long golden hair tied up in pieces of white sheet to give her ringlets in the morning. Ringlets were the fashion. Kathy looked down. It was a long way to the bed. She had never told anyone about floating up to the ceiling. No one would have believed her. As it was Mother often said Kathy had too vivid an imagination and needed to come back down to earth. Sometimes she thought it might be better to stay up there in the corner of the ceiling. She didn’t know if Mother would see her. She wasn’t sure that Mother would even miss her.
The girl on the bed began to quietly stir, and Kathy taking her cue, gently slid back into the body on the bed. Perhaps she should stop floating, as one day she might not be able to return.
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