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Back Things that Fall from the Sky
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. A Walled-In Girl
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. The Five Lightning Strikes of Hamish Mackay
  31. The Five Lightning Strikes of Hamish Mackay
  32. A Mermaid Splashing
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. And That was The End of That
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. 7
  50. 8
  51. 9
  52. 10
  53. 11
  54. 12
  55. 13

Pekka still doesn’t want to talk about it properly. He’s angry, though he won’t say that out loud. He’s angry because I didn’t believe the doctor. I tried to, but when I got home, I just didn’t any more. I googled the doctor; he was three years younger than me. I missed the second ultrasound and then within a week, the whole thing had just kind of disappeared. I started the antenatal group and was like all the other mothers there. Pekka and I went out and got a cot. I bought a liner for it decorated with seahorses and fish.

My bump floats in the silence. Or rather, my bump is the silence. Even though I pull my coat round my belly so the seams are really straining, no sound comes out. That’s where the diver sinks. There are tubes, oxygen and darkness down there.

When Pekka rests his ear against my watery belly, listening, everything’s OK. The baby splashes. This is just how I imagined it. Pekka said himself you always love your child, whatever it’s like. You don’t need to go on a course to learn that.

Anyway, miracles do happen. I’m the first to believe in miracles.

4

4

The girl’s shouting again. It’s night, and the room is pitch-black. I hear Pekka grabbing something from the chair to put on and charging upstairs. I can hear what they’re saying through the ceiling.

The girl: ‘No no no…Don’t look!’

Pekka: ‘Saara, open your eyes.’

The girl: ‘They are open!’

Pekka: ‘Come on, open your eyes.’

The girl: ‘They are open.’

Pekka: ‘No, they’re not. Saara, open your eyes.’

The bed clatters as the girl kicks and thrashes her adoles-cent arms and legs about. I’ve told Pekka she needs a new bed; she’ll be taller than I am soon. A bed with no sides, so we don’t have to listen to that clattering. She can fall on the floor for all I care.

At last it all goes quiet. I can hear Pekka moving and the floor creaking. The girl must have fallen asleep.

Ten minutes pass. Pekka’s still not back. No creaking, no more shouting, nothing. Somewhere in the distance, the brakes of trucks squeal; they sound so alive at night. Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s a dog or a truck or an unhappy person. Boohooooo.

The house is cold.

The upstairs has swallowed Pekka.

Boohooooo.

I sit in bed and wait for a bit.