Metropolitan Lines Issue 2 - Brunel University

Charles so the sooner my children
get used to the rooms the better.
Anyway, I want to show them my
stones.’
Maman became silent. Papa
wheeled himself to his bureau, a
great, roll-topped oak monstrosity
with glass fronted bookshelves
towering above it, and pulled open a
drawer. I couldn’t contain my
curiosity and followed him, all fear
or revulsion I’d once felt for his
disfigurement now forgotten in the
joy of discovery. It was full of stones;
geodes, fossils, rocks and splinters
of quartz which flashed diamondbright
in the flicker of the oil lamp. I
gazed at this magic trove of geology
and began to take them out one by
one, passing them to my sisters once
I’d pored over their every detail. I
was too young to know what a fossil
was. I hadn’t even started school,
but their colours and textures
fascinated me from the first time I
saw them.
There was a soft tap at the door.
Magilligan entered with my father’s
reading glasses and, before leaving,
turned to my mother.
‘Madame la Marquise,’ he began
nervously. ‘If I had the boy out too
long, I apologise. I won’t do it
again.’
Before my mother had a chance
to respond, my father cut in with,
‘Rubbish, Henri. You’ve nothing
to apologise about. It’s what the boy
needs, so you will do it again and
20
postgraduate fiction
when I’m well enough, I’ll do it with
you.’
Magilligan was surprised and
looked at my mother, who looked at
the floor.
‘Very well, Sir. Will that be all for
the moment?’
‘I’ll ring when I need you.’
As he left, I observed my
mother’s tense face and made a
child’s vow always to look after
Henri Magilligan. He had broken
down the barrier between my father
and myself. Papa was right on
another issue. I’d spent too much
time with women who spoiled and
cosseted me. It was time to be a boy.
Otherwise, I’d never be a man.
Metropolitan Lines Summer 2008
Magilligan
Johanna Yacoub