The key would not open the door. My mother got in at the window like a robber. I felt more afraid than ever as I waited on the gravel. The roses were so pale, the lilies gleamed, the gravel hissed.

The house was fusty from being shut up; milk smelt in a saucepan we forgot. We ate the chips without a cloth. Already I missed my grandmother. It was strange to be there with my mother — the two of us alone.

My mother came with me to the Primary School. I was late, and we saw the deputy headmaster, who looked like Humphrey Bogart, and he smiled at my mother and told her it didn’t matter. And I felt proud, for I wore my mother’s scarf, and the other girls would know I had been on holiday.

The next day Tinker came back from the dogs’ home. He is thin and has fleas and his turds are white.

The next day I climbed the ladder to the roof and my box. And I only see ants; and the frail bodies of moths — their wings all eaten away, trying to rise from the silky cages that bind them.

At the end of the week Nan and Reece came back from the sea.

Twenty-Two

TWENTY-TWO

Miss Monk the Grade Seven teacher is funny looking — face like a walnut or a peach stone, hair in a bun all crinkly and it falls out and goes round her face like cobwebs. She looks almost like a witch, although it’s not a nice thing to say — but the little hairs are like the down on a nettle (all along her lip) and even a moustache as well and false teeth and orange gums that aren’t real and crooked body. She also looks something like the lady on the ship, but with her clothes on, and when she runs for the basketball her front goes up-and-down, but you never see anything because she can’t bend over — too stiff. And her legs — thick stockings, not quite lisle and funny dresses — long, nearly to her ankles (one with daisy-chains and one just plain) and buttons and a pin like a clover and a wrist watch but not very fancy — not diamanté, and hat like a Scottie’s.