The Paradise Stain. Nick Glade-Wright

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СКАЧАТЬ a self portrait of his granddaughter, a red Texta circle for the head with a single curved line smile that cut through the edges on both sides. There was no body but two long lines came out from the head, the ends of which contained two small circles. From these circles there were at least a dozen smaller lines, little fingers radiating enthusiastically outwards. She’d run out of room for legs, a mere detail.

      ‘This picture has to be the most optimistic statement of embracing life to its fullest I’ve ever seen,’ Barry enthused, kissing Rosie on the cheek.

      ‘Don’t be silly, Gampa, it’s Rosie!’

      Melinda beamed as she lifted the last two tins of bread from the oven.

      ‘Smells nice, Mummy.’

      ‘Thank you, Poppet. It’s a new sour dough recipe I’m trying,’ she told her daughter informatively.

      Rosie tilted her head in the way her mother did. ‘Mm.’

      ‘I can see a master chef in the making,’ Barry said.

      Melinda looked at her father. ‘So, who have you got in your sights this season?’

      ‘Not sure I like your analogy. Vince just phoned in with an African refugee who has … ’ He lowered his voice a little, as if Rosie might understand, and continued, ‘ … a price on his head in Sudan. I’m seeing him tomorrow. There are others according to Vince. Other than that I hope I can ease into it gently. How’s that boyfriend of yours, what’s his name?’

      ‘You mean Mungo, Dad, you know … my partner!’ Melinda kissed her daughter on the top of her head. ‘I told you Grandpa’s a Silly Billy.’ Then poking her father lightly in the tummy she said, ‘You gave me away to him five years ago, if you remember, in that little ceremony with Mum on Shelly Beach.’

      ‘Really? Oh yes, that’s right … M u n g o.’ Barry spoke the word slowly with a pinch of friendly scorn, wishing Mungo was present to hear his retaliation. ‘How is the musical guru you support?’

      Melinda smiled, again not reacting to her father’s taunt.

      Actually, David Smith was Mungo’s real name. He had adopted the nickname whilst he was a student at the conservatorium of music. Obscurely, it was to do with his penchant for riding a bicycle back then, a few too many rough reds one evening with friends, some chatter about bands from the seven ties, in particular Mungo Jerry who sang the Pushbike Song, apparently. David latched onto it, liking the exotic musicality of the word thought it sounded like a Caribbean dance and also that it went hand in hand with the experimental nature of his endeavours.

      ‘For your information, Mister Skeptic, Mungo and the others have finished setting up the studio in town. The grant they got from the Arts Council helped pay for specialised digital recording equipment,’ Melinda said. ‘Then it was only a few hundred dollars to buy the computer software.’

      ‘I suppose a normal job teaching music or even playing jazz in a pub would be out of the question, you know, so he can contribute to my granddaughter’s wellbeing.’

      ‘He’s happy. And Rosie’s just fine.’

      ‘Yes, Gampa, Rosie’s just fine,’ Rosie chirped.

      ‘I don’t get it really. Why does he … ’

      ‘Dad, don’t start! There’s nothing to get. And anyway, since when did you become so narrow minded? You can sound so … out of touch sometimes!’

      Several seconds of awkward silence stood between father and daughter.

      ‘Sorry Dad, I … ’

      ‘It’s okay. I know I’m just … Look, tell me about the music.’

      Melinda took a breath. ‘He calls them sound sculptures. It’s cutting edge. Mungy couldn’t do it if he had to do a nine to five. I’m sure Mrs da Vinci didn’t nag Leonardo to get a real job selling pizzas instead of painting.’

      ‘You got me there.’ Barry smiled. ‘Maybe that’s why Mona Lisa has that supercilious grin.’

      Melinda wiped another surface, allowing her discomfort to disperse. ‘Good one, Dad.’

      ‘Good one, Dad,’ Rosie echoed.

      ‘Mungy played me a demo the other day. It’s really fascinating stuff and it’s amazing how many dissonant sounds there are around us that we just take for granted. But if you don’t push the boundaries you’ll never achieve anything really great or worthwhile. You’ll just be floating with all the other debris in the current.’

      ‘Is that what he tells you?’

      ‘No, Dad, it’s what you used to tell me when I was younger.

      Remember?’ ‘Mm, maybe I should heed my own advice then.’

      ‘I’m happy for Mungy to be doing that. We don’t need tons of money at the moment anyway.’

      ‘I suppose I’m a bit old fashioned about responsibility for family.’

      ‘Oh, don’t be such a fuddy duddy, Dad.’

      ‘Fuddy faddy, fuddy faddy,’ the little sponge in the high chair chortled to herself.

      Melinda turned the last bread tin out onto a metal cooling tray.

      ‘For someone who heads a cutting edge show on the box you can sound so … yesterday. Mungy puts in his share.’

      ‘Okay, I’m hearing you.’

      Barry tickled Rosie under the chin, but she pulled away, sensing her mother’s annoyance. Besides she was concentrating on placing eyes into a circle of raisins.

      ‘Well, young Rosie Posie, Grandpa has to go now and get ready for work tomorrow. You got a kiss for me?’

      ‘Mummy, Gampa’s got spiders in his nose … and they’re very big!’

      Melinda smiled warmly at her father, giving him a hug. ‘I know. And I’m glad I didn’t inherit that conk! Go on, you silly old thing, off you go. Go and give some money to some poor down trodden wretch. We’re fine here.’

      Barry leaned over and blew a raspberry into Rosie’s neck. ‘Old spiders love dark places,’ he whispered.

      ‘Gampa!’

      ‘Here, Dad, take a loaf, and these rolls. But eat them soon while they’re fresh.’

      ‘Thanks. You look after me too well.’

      ‘Gampa, I like apicot jam.’

      ‘Me too.’

      Barry put his nose inside the packet and breathed in. ‘Mmm. I’ll see you in a week or so; it’s going to be hectic for a while.’

      As Melinda walked her father to the front door, three hoodied teenagers on skateboards rattled by on the pavement bouncing affable expletives between each other.

      ‘Don’t СКАЧАТЬ