Metropolitan Lines Issue 2 - Brunel University

excited at this realistic possibility.
My brother gave me no response,
but I could see that he was taken
with the idea.
And we can say a few prayers, I
said, trailing off, looking at the
swaying grass. The young man had
almost reached our side of the field
by now, and as I watched him he
passed underneath us. He gave me
the briefest of glances as he walked
past, puffing on a cigarette and
stumbling slightly. His shoulderlength
hair was greasy and his face
a deep red. He bent and climbed
through the barbed-wire fence,
almost falling as he did so. He
disappeared around the side of the
garage block. I looked back out
across the field, still swinging my
feet and searched for the aeroplane
on the horizon. It too had
disappeared. My brother levered
himself up, took the blade of grass
from his mouth and tossed it into
the field. He stood up.
Come on Freddy, he said as he
rose, let’s go and ask mum. Let’s see
if she’ll ask dad to drive us. I tossed
my blade of grass down and stood.
Yeah, alright, I said, come on
then. We turned and climbed down
from the garage roof, hanging with
our arms stretched and our backs to
the field and then letting ourselves
drop. After landing we wiped our
hands on our shorts and headed for
the barbed-wire fence.
I wonder if Jenny’s still in the
cage? Colin asked. Or if dad’s taken
her out yet? We reached the fence
and Colin began to climb through. I
made a gap for him by holding one
strip of wire in my right hand and
pressing down on the lower strip
with my foot. When he was
halfway, bent almost double, he
stopped and spoke to the ground;
I hope he hasn’t chucked her in
the bin, he said. I hope he hasn’t. He
passed through the strips of wire
and then held them for me in a
similar fashion. I passed through
without difficulty despite catching a
thread on my t-shirt. I stood up and
walked alongside my brother,
returning home, silently planning
Jenny’s grand send-off. Kicking a
stone a thought suddenly struck me:
Colin, I asked, what do worms
eat?
He thought for a moment and,
without missing a step replied, Oh,
you know. Dead budgies and stuff.
The drive to Marley Wood was
almost completely silent. Colin
and I sat in the back seat of the car
looking out of the side-windows.
My mother made the occasional
comment, usually relating to the
weather or to the large number of
cars on the road. My father drove
without uttering a word.
What a lovely afternoon, my
mother said to the windscreen, so
warm and sunny. Jimmy and I did
not respond. So warm and sunny,
she repeated. Jenny was inside a
small, brown paper bag that lay next
to the handbrake of the car,
between the two front seats. My
father had wrapped her up inside
the bag, and then placed her in the
car as we were all climbing in.
There are so many cars out
today, said my mother, where can
they all be going? She fiddled with
her necklace as she spoke, staring
out of the windscreen in front of her.
I hope they’re not all heading for
Marley Wood. As she said this an
insect smashed into the windscreen.
I glanced down at the small brown
parcel on the floor between my
parents and wondered if Jenny were
really dead. Perhaps she was still
alive, still breathing. I watched
closely for a while to see if there was
movement, but could not detect
40
faculty fiction
any. I looked across at my brother
who was stretching slightly to look
out of the window. He was
watching the white lines on the road
as we sped past them, his eyes
flicking back and forth. We had told
our mother of our burial plans for
our budgie, and she had promised
to speak to dad. She had said that
he was very tired, but that he might
be persuaded. The fact that we were
heading for Marley Wood seemed
to suggest that she had convinced
him to carry out our plan. As we
approached the wood I felt sweat
running down the backs of my legs
caused by the plastic covering on
the seat. I wiped one leg with the
back of my hand and raised it to my
mouth. The taste of salt was intense
and stung my lips slightly. My
brother noticed me doing this and
did the same. He looked across at
me with a bitter expression that
became a smile. The car entered an
area of shade as we drove into the
wood. Trees bordered each side of
the road, and sunlight occasionally
flickered through their gently
swaying leaves. We slowed slightly
as we continued, the road
narrowing as we drove deeper into
the wood. I tried to see if I could
find an ideal spot to bury Jenny as
we passed, a clearing in amongst the
trees. Colin seemed to be doing the
same. My father slowed the car even
more and, lifting his right-hand
from the steering wheel, wound
down his side-window. A warm
wind rushed in and I felt the sweat
on my legs immediately cool. Dad
returned his right-hand to the
steering wheel and, letting-go with
his left, reached down and picked
up the brown paper bag containing
Jenny. From the corner of my eye I
saw my mother’s head turn toward
him. In one movement, he gripped
the paper bag and tossed it out of
Metropolitan Lines Summer 2008
Emotional Spaceman
William Leahy