The Shining Girls. Lauren Beukes

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СКАЧАТЬ Harper,’ he says, breathless, holding out his hand to shake. She has to switch her grip on the cup to do it.

      ‘Are you a stranger?’ she says.

      ‘Not any more, right?’

      ‘I’m Kirby. Kirby Mazrachi. But I’m gonna change it to Lori Star as soon as I’m old enough.’

      ‘When you go to Hollywood?’

      She draws the cup across the ground towards her, stirring the bug under it to new heights of outrage, and he can see he’s made a mistake.

      ‘Are you sure you’re not a stranger?’

      ‘I mean, the circus, right? What is Lori Star going to do? Flying trapeze? Elephant rider? Clown?’ He wiggles his index finger over his top lip. ‘The mustachioed lady?’

      To his relief, she giggles. ‘Noooo.’

      ‘Lion tamer! Knife thrower! Fire-eater!’

      ‘I’m going to be a tightrope walker. I’ve been practicing. Wanna see?’ She moves to get up.

      ‘No, wait,’ he says, suddenly desperate. ‘Can I see your lion?’

      ‘It’s not really a lion.’

      ‘That’s what you say,’ he prods.

      ‘Okay, but you gotta be real careful. I don’t want him to fly away.’ She tilts the cup the tiniest fraction. He lays his head down on the ground, squinting to see. The smell of crushed grass and black earth is comforting. Something is moving under the cup. Furry legs, a hint of yellow and black. Antennae probe towards the gap. Kirby gasps and slams the cup down again.

      ‘That’s one big old bumblebee,’ he says, sitting back on his haunches.

      ‘I know,’ she says, proud of herself.

      ‘You got him pretty riled.’

      ‘I don’t think he wants to be in the circus.’

      ‘Can I show you something? You’ll have to trust me.’

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘You want a tightrope walker?’

      ‘No, I—’

      But he’s already lifted up the cup and scooped the agitated bee into his hands. Pulling off the wings makes the same dull pop sound as plucking the stem off a sour cherry, like the ones he spent a season picking in Rapid City. He’d been up and down the whole goddamn country, chasing after the work like a bitch in heat. Until he found the House.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she shouts.

      ‘Now we just need some flypaper to string across the top of two cans. Big old bug like this should be able to pull his feet free, but it’ll be sticky enough to stop him falling. You got some flypaper?’

      He sets the bumblebee down on the rim of the cup. It clings to the edge.

      ‘Why did you do that?’ She hits his arm, a fluster of blows, palms open.

      He’s baffled by her reaction. ‘Aren’t we playing circus?’

      ‘You ruined it! Go away! Go away, go away, go away, go away.’ It becomes a chant, timed with each slap.

      ‘Hold on. Hold on there,’ he laughs, but she keeps on whacking him. He grabs her hand in his. ‘I mean it. Cut it the fuck out, little lady.’

      ‘You don’t swear!’ she yells and bursts into tears. This is not going like he planned – as much as he can plan any of these first encounters. He feels tired at the unpredictability of children. This is why he doesn’t like little girls, why he waits for them to grow up. Later, it will be a different story.

      ‘All right, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, okay? I’ve got something for you. Please don’t cry. Look.’ In desperation, he takes out the orange pony, or tries to. Its head snags on his pocket and he has to yank it free. ‘Here,’ he jabs it at her, willing her to take it. One of the objects that connects everything together. Surely this is why he brought it? He feels only a moment of uncertainty.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘A pony. Can’t you see? Isn’t a pony better than some dumb bumblebee?’

      ‘It’s not alive.’

      ‘I know that. Goddammit. Just take it, okay? It’s a present.’

      ‘I don’t want it,’ she sniffs.

      ‘Okay, it’s not a present, it’s a deposit. You’re keeping it safe for me. Like at the bank when you give them your money.’ The sun is beating down. It is too hot to be wearing a coat. He is barely able to concentrate. He just wants it to be done. The bumblebee falls off the cup and lies upside down in the grass, its legs cycling in the air.

      ‘I guess.’

      He is feeling calmer already. Everything is as it has to be. ‘Now keep this safe, all right? It’s real important. I’ll come to get it. You understand?’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I need it. How old are you?’

      ‘Six and three-quarters. Almost seven.’

      ‘That’s great. Really great. Here we go. Round and round, like your Ferris wheel. I’ll see you when you’re all grown-up. Look out for me, okay, sweetheart? I’ll come back for you.’

      He stands up, dusting his hands against his leg. He turns and walks briskly across the lot, not looking back, limping only slightly. She watches him cross the road and walk up towards the railroad until he disappears into the tree-line. She looks at the plastic toy, clammy from his hand, and yells after him. ‘Yeah? Well I don’t want your dumb horse!’

      She chucks it onto the ground and it bounces once before coming to land beside her bicycle Ferris wheel. Its painted eye stares blankly at the bumblebee, which has righted itself and is dragging itself away over the dirt.

      But she goes back for it later. Of course she does.

       Harper

       20 November 1931

      The sand gives way beneath him, not sand at all, but stinking icy mud that squelches into his shoes and soaks through his socks. Harper curses under his breath, not wanting the men to hear. They’re shouting to each other in the darkness: ‘You see him? You got him?’ If the water wasn’t so goddamn cold, he’d risk swimming out to make his escape. But he is already shivering violently from the wind off the lake that nips and worries at him right through his shirt, his coat abandoned behind the speakeasy, covered in that shit-heel’s blood.

      He wades his way across the beach, picking a path between the garbage and the rotting lumber, mud sucking at his СКАЧАТЬ