Section 2, 6

THE CHILDREN ARE CRYING

I suppose Zig-Zag could have crawled in somewhere and got stuck. I remember when Oxford Archeology were on the top floor of the Storey and they had the old bones of some fellah that had been buried with all his cattle and horses, and the bones were laid out on the floor and Zig-Zag went in, sniffing and licking. Another time he rolled in some grass cutting sculptures and was blamed when they rotted and gave off poisonous fumes that nearly killed the people from the chamber of commerce.

Zig-zag loved to play. He liked streamers and ribbons, and I used to attach them to the window ledge of the portico, and he’d bat them with his paws. I think he’d have liked somewhere like a garage forecourt where they always have streamers and ticker tape and glitter and balloons - like being at a permanent party. Maybe if we put streamers on the front of the Storey he’d come back.

The builder left me with the jacket and the note and I sat on the sofa for a long time holding the note in my hand and looking at the wallpaper. Then I put the note in my pocket and got into the car and drove to a place I like near Arnside and I sat and looked out over the bay, over the sad, sad sands, and I watched the tide racing in, and the trains slipping over the bridge to Barrow and the sheep grazing at the waters edge in this alienplanetscape of grass and sand and slate-grey sea and seeing the train out there on its own on that spindly bridge surrounded by water, frothy waves splashing up on all sides, and the birds squealing and sobbing, waiting for the tide to ebb again and give up its riches, made me decide.

So please find Zig-Zag

THE CHILDREN ARE CRYING

(You’ll see how important the 11 plus exam was to shaping our lives if you look at what Fern has written on her blog.)