Clair de Lune ©

 

 

Everyday thirteen year old Jackson stopped by Trafalgar and Nelson’s tank, bade them a cheerful greeting and threw a few flakes of food into their tank.

Both had unusual colourings. Trafalgar was almost completely blue/white with a black hood that masked his eyes and Nelson was three colours – orange, black and light blue. The colours were all set out along his body, like the epaulets of the famous General whose name he bore.

‘Hi yup,’ Jackson saluted as they swam over to the side of the tank where he stood.

They blew a few bubbles and wriggled their bodies up and down then swam away. The sun rising behind Jackson shaded his familiar features, the nose that rose out of freckled cheeks and the deep blue eyes. As he shrugged on his book laden back pack their bodies swayed in the water. Seeing some flakes drifting past they dived, scooped them up, and wth their mouths pulsing, did a circuit around the tank. When they had finished they dived to the botton of the tank where they floated side by side, tails up, heads down and shifting pebbles with a seaside clatter.

‘Hurry up Jackson, you’ll be late,’ Jackson’s father called, an impatient edge to his voice.

They paused in their food gathering, exchanged glances then returned to rummaging amongst the stones for flakes of missed food.

He walked over to the tank, clapped his heels together and saluted.

‘Yessir,’ he muttered, turned and left.

The two fish swam through the oxygen weed, pulling at leaves and munching them.

Later, when Jackson’s mother Josephine came in she clutched a dusting cloth in a tight fist. Absentmindedly she wandered along Jackson’s dresser, shifting his cans of Lynx from one spot to another then rubbing away the circles in the thin veil of dust covering the navy blue dresser. Her shoulders hung heavy as she trudged over to the window and ran her cloth along the sill, picking up matchbox toys and putting them back with each pass of the cloth.

She picked up an Aston Martin, the model her husband drove and held it up so that the pale winter light washed over it. She sat on the bed and cradled the toy in her cupped hands. The weak winter sun formed a replica of the window on the brown flecked carpet and dust particles danced in the air like tiny sprites. She ran a hand with chewed fingernails down her black tights and sighed. The troubled sound fused with the trickle of the fish tank’s bubbling water.

As if aware of Trafalgar’s and Nelson’s gaze she looked up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sent them a wobbly smile. Without the usual coating of red lipstick and blusher on her cheeks she looked pale and drawn.

She flopped back on the bed as if her bones had become like jelly. She lay there for some time, barely breathing, eyes closed. Then groaning she pulled herself upright, reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a scrunched up piece of A4 paper. She smoothed it out in her lap and put her forefinger in her mouth, closed her teeth over and bit off some nail then peeled it back. Unaware she had drawn blood she read the jagged black serif lettering. 'I am the daughter you gave away,' was all she could read before fresh tears washed down her cheeks and splashed onto the paper.

Nelson nudged Trafalgar and they swam through the log then looped a couple of times before going through the log again. Caught by the movement Josephine looked up. Seeing the fish antics she gave a wan smile, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her thigh length shirt and stood with a heavy sigh.

As if gripped by a surge of pent up energy Trafalgar raced to the end of the tank, mistimed his turn and hit the glass wall. Feigning concussion he sank to the gravel on the bottom of the tank and lay on his side. With her hand to her mouth Josephine lifted the tank lid and looked in. With a wriggle Trafalgar lifted himself up and swam to her, pushing his head through the aqueous layer that separated them. She laughed as relief washed over her.

 ‘You are such a clown, Trafalgar,’ she muttered, dabbing her eyes and running her hand through her short curling hair.

She quietly closed the door behind her.

 

That night Jackson stormed into his room and slammed the door shut. The fish swam to the top of the tank and pushed their noses through the water’s thin membrane.

Jackson stood on the far side of the room with his hands firmly on his hips and shouted, ‘I don’t want to go to stupid boarding school! I hate it there.’

His father flung the door open and his body filled the frame. He was short of breath and his veined cheeks were red.

Jackson spun in his carpet slippers and threw himself on the bed where he sat, arms and legs crossed, pouting.

His father waggled a finger at him. ‘You will do what I say you’ll do.’

Jackson gathered himself up by tightening his arms around his body and tilting his chin at his father.

‘I won’t.’

Without taking his eyes of his son, Duncan perched on the chair at Jackson’s computer desk and pressed his fingers together then pointed them at Jackson. The light glanced off his trousers in a grey silken shimmer as he crossed his legs.

‘Son, it’s your future,’ he said, grim faced and determined.

Jackson sat on his bed, his knees under his chin and bottom lip poking out. Every now and again he thumped his knees with his fists to vent his frustration.

Trafalgar and Nelson were at the side of the tank, blowing bubbles and flapping their fins. Nelson spiralled up to the top of the tank then down to the bottom where he picked up pebbles and carried them to the surface then sent them rattling down to the bottom of the tank.

Hearing the tiny clattering stones Jackson looked toward the tank and watched the fish darting about.

‘And who will look after Trafalgar and Nelson if I’m not here?’

As if the question was peurile, Duncan frowned. ‘Your mother, of course…..’

Trafalgar pumped his hooded head up and down.  Nelson came up beside him and they fell into line swimming from one side of the tank to the other.

Jackson’s hazel eyes were cloudy with tears and unhappiness left big red smudges beneath each one.

He looked down at his clenched hands in his lap as he spoke. ‘I’m doing okay at school Dad, honest.’ Jackson added emphasis with an earnest nod.

Duncan pulled his hands apart and curled his right one into a fist as though it was stiff and needed loosening.  Chafing filled the room as he rubbed his hands together. The long fingers lifted at the bony joints.

‘It’s about your future….and school’s play a big part in how that all goes. I don’t know what I’d have done without my school contacts when it came to getting into the right legal company. ’Jackson shrugged and shot his father a defiant glare. ‘….You’ll see I’m right ....’ His father stood and plunged his hands into his pockets. ‘Anyway, I’ll not tolerate any argument.’

With that he left, shutting the door behind him with a definite bang.

With a resigned sigh, Jackson stood and picked up the fish food. He sprinkled some flakes on the water, ‘How are you fellas,’ he said, his voice flat and miserable.

The fish swam up to the corner of the tank where Jackson stood. Nelson skimmed along the top scooping up the floating flakes.

As he rubbed a sleeve over his stinging eyes Jackson put the container back on the table beside the tank. Usually Nelson followed the container’s journey back to its resting place but not this time. He stayed with Jackson who gazed sadly into the tank.

With a shrug he pulled out his homework. He stared at his open book without interest. Listlessly he turned a page, then pulled out a pen and started writing. Eventually he gave up with a loud sigh throwing his pen onto his desk where it leaked ink over the page he had been working on.  He swivelled in his chair to watch his fish. A flake sat on Trafalgar’s head like a four cornered hat. A smile tweaked Jackson’s lips and he leaned over the tank.

‘You silly fish,’ he said.

Trafalgar dipped under the water and caught the flake in his mouth as it floated away.

The two fish danced through the log.  Jackson gazed at the fish barely registering the movement, the flicking shadows, the darting light and trickle of pumping water.

Distracted, Jackson caught a lock of hair around his finger and curled it then let it hang. It was due to be cut.

A few days later he came into the room with a new hair cut – parted on the left and swept across his head with short back and sides. The fringe fell away from the neat parting as he dumped a suitcase on the bed.  Saying nothing Josephine sat on the bed with a pile of clothes beside her and began labelling them. Every now and then she sniffed.

She dabbed her nose with the tissue lying in a scrunched up ball in her hand.

Jackson went to his book case and pulled out his favourite books….Treasure Island, Red Badge of Courage and Huckleberry Finn and threw them into the bag with a thump

Josephine put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It mightn’t be that bad. I’ll email you every day.’

The two fish hung their heads and their fins dangled in the water.

The door opened and Duncan stepped in.

He was dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, ready for the drive. He clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, ‘Come on,lad. It’s not the end of the world. Pull yourself together.’ He went to the case and peered in. ‘Everything there?’ he asked, looking out from under bushy eyebrows.

Josephine’s nod was almost imperceptible.

Jackson hovered by the fish tank. As he peered in at the fish, his oval face washed into a watery reflection. The two fish swam up to him.

‘Good-bye Trafalgar,’ he said. ‘See ya Nelson.’ His voice was flat. They are seen him crying at night so they knew he was drained of all emotion.

II

One night the fish hung in the water relishing the usual post feeding serenity when the door opened. Both darted to the other side of the tank. The light flicked on. They ducked their heads then looked up, certain something unusual was happening.

A girl’s face appeared at their tank. She stared in at them, her thin white face was distorted by the flowing water coming out of the pump. A mole on her cheek wobbled with the movement of the water. As she leaned forward her curling dark hair fell out of its clip and dipped into the water giving them both a fright.

They darted into their log and peered out.

‘Here fishies, here fishies,’ she cooed, ‘come out and show me how pretty you are.’

Her voice was edged with a whine. Nelson felt sorry for her.

He edged out from the log but Trafalgar swam across him, impeding him. He ducked down and around and over the top of Trafalgar. As Nelson looked down on Trafalgar he blew bubbles and did a half spin. Trafalgar looked up and from the corner of his eye he saw the girl pick up a plastic rod. She poked it into the water. Trafalgar darted up and pushed Nelson away. The rod brushed the back of Trafalgar’s back as he dived to the bottom, spun to his left and disappeared into the log. Nelson followed. They looked out from the safety of the log, their gills pulsing and their mouths opening and shutting, as though driven by anxious bursts of energy.

Josephine took the rod from the girl.

‘You mustn’t do that,’ she said. ‘You frighten them.’

‘I was just trying to get them to come to me,’ she whined.

She drew away, mouth sulkily drooping. Josephine put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll get used to you.’

She picked up the container of food and sprinkled a bit on the top of the water.  They eyed the tiny flakes spreading out over the water and watched as the flakes fluttered toward them like colourful snowflakes. When the girl moved forward they shrank back into the log.

Trafalgar darted out and caught a flake as it passed nearby then disappeared into the log. Nelson followed. The girl clapped her hands.

‘They are gorgeous,’ she exclaimed.  She blew a gum bubble and burst it. Josephine frowned but said nothing. On hearing the crack Trafalgar and Nelson darted back into the log.

Josephine tightened her grip on the girl’s waist. ‘They will get used to you, just be patient.’

One day Josephine came into the room humming. In her comfy track pants and top she began transforming the room. She folded up Jackson’s blue racing car duvet cover and replaced it with a pink Princess print cover. She removed the lamp and returned with a new one that featured a pink shade with white tassels around the edge and his curtains with super heroes on them also disappeared. In their place Josephine hung pink curtains with red bows printed on them.

That afternoon Claire came home in a terrible mood. Her blue eyes had turned a stormy dark navy making them almost black. She flung her back pack on the floor of the kitchen and went to the pantry and pulled out a packet of two minute noodles.

Josephine sneaked up behind her and put her hands across Claire’s eyes.

‘I have a surprise….’

As Claire elbowed Josephine away she caught her in the stomach. Gasping, Josephine doubled over and stumbled to a nearby seat.

‘You gave me a fright,’ Claire said by way of an apology and set about pouring boiling water over her noodles.

Josephine’s face crumpled into hurt lines.

‘I’ve done your room,’ she gasped.

Instead of being thrilled, anger hit Claire’s face. ‘I didn’t say you could do that.’

Josephine looked about her as if trying to find an answer. ‘I know but I thought I might surprise you.’

She tried to catch Claire’s hand but Claire pulled it away. Josephine stood and entreated, ‘Come and have a look.’

Claire shot her two minute noodles an irritated look and slouched along behind Josephine to the room. Josephine threw open the door, ‘Ta da.’

Claire took the room in, horror on her face. The smile left Josephine’s.

‘It’s awful,’ Claire muttered and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

She sulked for a week and in the end Josephine bought new fittings and furnishings to Claire’s specifications and turned the room purple.

Trafalgar and Nelson never got used to Claire. She was always poking things at them and days went by when she forgot to feed them. When they listlessly hovered, their hunger gnawing at their bellies, Claire would remember and throw a few flakes into the water. She laughed as they scrambled over each other to get them. Sometimes their frenetic scrambling made them lose their bearings and they bit each other. One day Nelson bit off part of Trafalgar's tail. Claire curled up with her laughter. Josephine rushed to the room when the loud gales of hilarity tumbled down to the kitchen.

‘Look, they’re turning into cannibals.’ Claire laughed louder.

 Josephine clicked her tongue. ‘No, they’re hungry. You aren’t feeding them.’

 ‘I am,’ she said defensively.

‘And you told me you were cleaning their tank.’

Josephine stepped around the words as if they were broken glass. She pointed to the green water and the pump that laboured to send a trickle of water through the filter.

The next day Josephine gave the tank a thorough clean. She put in new plants in and a new filter. When she finished she gave the two fish blood worms captured in a tiny block of ice. As the ice block thawed they caught the released worms and munched on them, luxuriously, eyes half closed.

Misery dropped over Josephine like a curtain closing a show. When the door burst open she leapt to her feet and stood guiltily smoothing away the creases on the bed with agitated hands. Claire stood in front of her, hands on hips, inches from her.

‘When are you going to tell him?’ she demanded.

Josephine leant away. ‘Soon,’ she said, voice trembling.

Claire shook her head. ‘No, not good enough. I need a definite time.’

She strode around the room, picking up her new things; brush, hair straightener, perfume.

‘I mean it Mum. When?’

Josephine blinked and looked around afraid someone had overheard Claire call her, 'Mum'. Seeing her mother's surge of guilt and fear, Claire threw a bottle of perfume at the wall. It shattered. The shards fell in glittering splinters on the carpet and heady perfume filled the room.

Josephine put a tentative hand out to Claire and touched her on the shoulder.

‘I will soon, I promise,’ she said, nodding. ‘In the next day or so.’

Claire spun around, her curls whipping across her face. ‘Really? You’ve been saying that for ages.’

‘When he’s less busy.’

Josephine pulled at the soft skin around her nails with her teeth.

The slamming door signalled that Duncan was home.

Josephine made her escape. She pushed past Claire out into the passage. Perfume followed them both.

The two fish looked at each other.

 

III

When he returned home Jackson was disgusted by his purple room.  

‘Who did this?’ he demanded.

Josephine wrung her hands as she explained that ‘Claire liked this room the best in the house and the colour scheme was her choice. She pointed to the ceiling. ‘I’ve made you up a lovely room upstairs.’

He looked around the room, morosely. ‘No, I think I’ll go to Nana and Grand-dad’s.’ His gaze shifted to the tree he used to climb as a child. ‘Nothing here for me, now.’

He gave his fish a sad salute. ‘I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow.’

 

The next day the sun poured in through the window and washed over Claire who sat on the bed cross legged and dialled a number on her iphone.

‘Want to meet at Mission Bay?’ She asked the person who answeredw ith a deep male voice.‘Yeah our usual place is cool.’ She hung up and lifted her arms into the air in triumph. ‘Woohoo.’

Grabbing her jeans she went to have a shower. When she returned Chanel No 5 perfume wafted around her and her shining curls bounced. She sat before her mirror and put on her make up. Dark lines framed her eyes that had turned violet. Lip liner marked out her cupid’s bow lips. As she was leaving she paused at the tank.

‘You’re going today. Good riddance.’

She slammed the door behind her sending shock waves through the tank’s water.

 

‘I told you that girl was trouble,’ Grand-dad was saying as he, Jackson and Josephine entered the room.

‘I had no choice,’ Josephine answered unplugging the tank.

The fish bobbed up and down, mouths palpitating and fins flapping.

‘Where’s their food?’ Jackson muttered lifting up piles of clothes strewn about the floor and tossing them to one side.

‘You could have said, no’, he said.

‘Not after all she’s been through.’

He found the food underneath a pair of embroidered jeans.

The fish hung in the water and he lowered the net until he had scooped up Trafalgar and dropped him into a bucket. Nelson darted under the log and huddled there.

Jackson lifted the log and peered in, ‘It’s ok Nelson.’

Nelson edged out from the log and was unceremoniously scooped up into the net. Knowing his fish were safe, Jackson whistled as they drove away.

IV

Nana was pacing, her black handbag hooked over her arm. She stopped at Trafalgar and Nelson’s tank and clicked her tongue.

‘Where do you think she is?’ she asked, her best tartan skirt swaying about her calves and her lemon blouse reflecting in the glass.

With a troubled frown creasing her folded forehead she straightened some books on the shelf beside the fish tank. She spun on her black court shoes and almost ran to the front door at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. She flung the door open and Josephine fell into her arms, sobbing.

‘He knows,’ she said, her voice muffled by Nana’s woollen coat.

‘Oh no,’ Nana groaned hugging her daughter tighter.

A lock of white hair fell out of the tidy bun that held Nana’s in place. She tucked it under another firmly held strand where it stayed.

‘How did he find out?’

‘Claire told him.’

Nana’s lips closed over her red lipstick. Nana’s blue eyes fixed on the fish tank and she could see her troubled replication reflected back at her through the watery wall of the tank.

V

The full moon hung in a starlit sky. It hung above the horizon and cast a beam of light across the harbour water outside Nana and Grand-dad’s house.

Restless, Trafalgar raced around the log, over it and down to the bottom of the tank then back through the log. Nelson followed, stopping every so often to nibble on oxygen weed. Nana was turning off the lights and seeing Trafalgar’s agitation paused at the tank.

‘Is something wrong Trafalgar?’

Trafalgar paused in his frenetic swimming, touched his nose to her finger through the glass, then set off again.

The full moon had turned the garden in to a world of shadows. Her rose bushes stood tall along the garden path and the kowhai hung its golden bird beak flowers in clusters from branches of beaded leaves.

Nana looked out at the garden but saw nothing unusual, so pulled the curtains and went to bed.

 

She and Grand-dad had been asleep a short time when they were woken by banging on the door.

‘Good lord, what can that be,’ Grand-dad cried throwing aside the blankets and rushing to the front door. He threw aside the curtains and saw Josephine, in her nightdress and dressing gown, crying.

She held a suitcase in her left hand. The sleeve of a sweat shirt draped out of the clasped lid and collected dirt and night dew. Grand-dad threw open the door and bustled his daughter inside. Nana came in pulling on her dressing gown and filled the room with a flood of light as she switched the light on. The sudden burst of light woke Nelson and Trafalgar from their suspended rest and they began swimming from one end of the tank to the other, back and forth.

Josephine stood bleakly in the middle of the kitchen clutching the handles of her bag with both hands. Every cell of her body appeared linked by despair. The emotion consolidated in the grim lines of her face. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and the buttons of her coat looped through mismatched holes.

Grand-dad put his hands on her shoulders, ‘Josephine! What happened?’

She swallowed. Words squeaked out,

‘We had a terrible row.’ She swallowed again and put her hand over her mouth.

As if the words had been the frame holding her upright she deflated into Grand-dad’s arms. He held her against himself.

‘Who?’

‘Duncan and …’ she gulped, ‘me.’

‘Over?’

‘Claire,’ she whispered.

Grand-dad shook his head. ‘I’ve been telling you…..’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not what you think.’

His hand rasped over his chin. Folds of skin pulled away from his neck then fell back into place. His voice hardened.

‘How is it then Josephine?’

She choked and pulled away from him and hid her face in her hands. ‘They….they’re lovers. Oh God,’ she wailed. ‘I only wanted to make amends.’

Nana’s eyes instinctively shot to Josephine’s wedding photo on the wall.

‘That can't be. Not Claire!’

Josephine saw where she was looking, dumped the bag on the floor and ran across the room, ripped the gold framed photo from the wall and sent it crashing to the floor. Broken glass slithered across the carpet.

Sadly Nana picked up the pieces and took them over to the rubbish bin. She pressed down the lever with her foot. The lid popped up and she sent the shards clattering into the bin. The lid closed with a bang.

Josephine picked up the photo, pulled out scissors from the kitchen drawer and began hacking, slicing and dicing the photograph.

‘I hate him! I hate him!’ She screamed stabbing the man who stood beside her in his coat tails.

Her smiling face, framed by a veil was left untouched. Nana knelt beside her daughter and put her arms around her. All the while she stared at the photo with heartbroken eyes….her daughter had looked so beautiful as a bride, the long dark hair, the off-the-shoulder dress and the pearls threading the bodice. It had been a proud day….that day when Josephine married her lawyer.

Josephine threw the scissors to the floor and fell into her mother’s arms. Grand-dad looked on helplessly.

‘Sweetheart, he’s not worth it,’ he crooned. ‘If he can be sucked in by that tart’s little girl smile then he’s not good enough for you.’

That just made Josephine cry louder.

‘She’s my daughter….how could he?’

Grand-dad shrugged.  He looked out of the window into the dark night and rubbed a hand over his face turning his thick eye brows into tousled tufts. 'Never liked that girl,' Grand-dad muttered. 'Daughter or not.'

Trafalgar and Nelson swam to the top of the tank then dived to the bottom blowing bubbles as they went. They shook their heads and tugged at oxygen weed.

Nana ran her hand over her daughter’s back, making a slight rubbing sound as she waited for her to become calm.

 

VI

Two years later.

Josephine and Jackson were visiting Grand-dad and Nana as they did once a week. Josephine had a job as a legal executive. Jackson was preparing for University after winning a scholarship to do a Bachelor of Science specialising in Computer Programming.

 

Whenever he visited he went straight to the fish tank to greet Trafalgar and Nelson who did a couple of quick turns around the tank and waggled their tails at him.

‘They’re pleased to see you,’ Nana told him. ‘Just as I am.’ She gave him an extra hug.

Jackson, his voice now deep and his eyebrows touching each other across the bridge of his nose, bent down to receive her hug.

‘I am so proud of you,’ Nana said standing back to admire him. ‘My university boy.’

Jackson saluted and pulled himself up tall. The freckles had faded and his long face had filled out.  The scourge of every young person, pimples dotted his cheeks.

‘Can I use Grand-dad’s computer? I want to finish some research I started before we left. ’

Nana waved towards his old bedroom, now Grand-dad’s office. ‘You know where it is.’

Nana turned from the fish tank and joined her daughter at the table.

He typed in ‘Nelson, Franklin and Partners’ his father’s legal firm. He hit the search icon. He drew closer to the screen as he watched it clear then fill with blue letters. Several headings came up but he was intent on the one he recognised as an Asian affiliate firm his father did business with.

He typed some more then clicked on the heading and watched the search begin. The letters pinged away from the screen and new images took their place. As the search engine ticked away he held his breath making him feel lightheaded. He caught his lip in his top teeth and watched as shots of beautiful barely dressed women in seductive poses filled the screen. Young girls from Europe begging for someone to love them.

His eyes scanned the lines of smiling faces. As he took each one in his breath became shallower. It came out in a low whistle as he settled on one girl. She was younger than the Claire that now lived with his father but she was unmistakably the same person. Her oval face, the light sprinkling of freckles across the nose and the dark curls falling about her pretty face. Yes, this was, without doubt the young woman claiming to be his half-sister Claire, a year or so before she came to live with his mother. The name under her  portrait was Clair de Lune.

He reached out and put his finger under her chin. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Got you.’

As he walked out to the kitchen he paused at the tank and saluted Trafalgar and Nelson.