Mouthing the Words Read Online Free PDF Page B

world all the time, she thinks he’s some kind of stuffed animal.”
    Mum only knew the half of it. I would pick up Willy from nursery school on my way home, and Dad would park him in front of the television and say, “Pipe down and don’t bother me. Daddy has to help your sister with her homework. Why don’t you try and do something useful like long division instead of your crappy dinosaur pictures.”
    “It’s a dragon, not a dinosaur,” Willy defended meekly.
    And Dad said, “I’ve heard about enough out of you.”
    But Dad was no good at homework really. He always wanted to make it into a game, while I took it very seriously. He always wanted to be the teacher and whenever I tried to interject and say, “But Mrs. Kelly doesn’t do it that way,” Dad would say:
    “But Mrs. Kelly’s school is finished for the day. A woman can’t teach you everything you need to know. There are some things only your Daddy can teach you.”

Girl with a Suitcase
    “IT’S A DIFFICULT transition,” my mother explained. “Really, she’s quite a happy child. You should see her at home.” But Mrs. Kelly apparently wasn’t convinced, because the next night Mrs. Allen knocked on our door and introduced herself to my parents as one of the regional social workers responsible for my school.
    “Is there some kind of problem?” my mother asked, standing firmly in front of Mrs. Allen with a false and nervous grin, her “English face”, I now call it.
    “This is simply a routine visit,” said Mrs. Allen cheerfully. “We understand that Thelma has been having a little difficulty with the transition to her new life in Canada, and we simply want to help ease the process in any way we can.”
    “Well, I think we can manage that quite well ourselves, thank you very much, Mrs. Allen. Good of you to show such concern, but Thelma’s coming along quite nicely. Have you seen her report card? Excellent in every category, although she is a little introverted when it comes to interacting with her peers. Not surprising when she has been uprooted so dramatically, leaving all her old friends behind in the UK”
    All my old friends
? I lurked at the top of the stairs. Of course Mummy didn’t know I had packed up Ginniger, Janawee and Heroin and carried them across the Atlantic in the little white suitcase that Puff had given me for the journey. So I piped up—“No Mummy, they’re here. I didn’t leave them behind. I was only fooling because I thought you’d get mad!”
    “Sweetheart, shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” my mother crooned strangely, turning her huge eyes round to glare at me. “Mummy’ll come up and kiss you goodnight and help you say your prayers in a moment.” Mummy will kiss me goodnight? But that was Daddy’s job. And prayers? When had I ever said prayers in my life? Wasn’t religion “a pathetic pacifier for weak people,” as Daddy always said? I was very confused.
    “Well, all right then, Mrs. Barley. Thank you for your time. But listen,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you ever feel like speaking to someone, here’s my card,” she said, placing a small, white piece of paper into my mother’s hand and closing her fingers over the top of my mother’s with a small squeeze.
    “These bloody North Americans!” my mother shouted as soon as she closed the door. “So concerned about other people’s business and so …” she shuddered, “touchy-feely.” She wheeled around, shouting, “Douglas, I hope you heard that. For Christ’s sake, all you have to do is pack her a lunch every day and make sure she’s wearing a clean shirt. Do you think I like spending every Sunday doing the ironing so that you all have clothes to wear? You could at least make sure she looks presentable when she goes to school. For fuck’s sake, I can’t do everything around here! Douglas, I can’t cope! I’m living up to my part of the bargain and carting myself off to work every morning and still coming home every