Harry and Hope

скачать книгу бесплатно


The only reason we’d all come together in the first place was because of Harry. Harry’s life hadn’t all been happy, but if it wasn’t for that donkey, none of us would ever have met.

I nudged Frank and he squinted one eye in that here-we-go-again kind of way but with an added ton of patience, because he knew what I wanted to hear.

“You want me to tell you again how I found Harry?” he said.

“From the beginning.”

(#ulink_8d71ee90-1f04-5631-8278-c9dd02f8f949)

Frank hadn’t exactly told me the story of Harry, not like someone normally tells you a story, by starting at the beginning, going on to the middle and then ending at the end. You had to prise bits of it out of him, ask questions, even the same ones again and again, and then sometimes he’d let a bit more spill. But the end of the story was always the same. They ended up here.

Sometimes Frank talked about ‘the grey donkey’ rather than Harry. I thought maybe he was protecting Harry by not calling him by his name when he spoke about where he came from. Or maybe it was so Harry wouldn’t hear. Like I said, you never can tell how much a donkey understands.

Actually, I hated the story, because of what had happened to Harry, but I loved it too. Because of Frank.

“Fire away,” he said, like always, and we both smiled because the bonfire and the talk had always gone together.

“How did you find Harry?” I began.

Frank took a big breath, like he was preparing himself deep down inside. He picked two sappy grasses, held one out to me, getting ready to go travelling in his memory and take me with him.

“Paths crossed, I reckon.”

“Where was it you were going?”

“Travelling, that’s all.”

“But, like, where were you exactly?”

“India, Mumbai, near a building site.”

“And what were you doing at the building site?”

“Just looking, watching things change.”

“What made you stop for Harry?”

He shook his head and twitched his lip as he crushed the grass stem between his teeth.

“There are some things that a man finds hard to pass by.”

I loved the way he talked. Bold and sure. Each time the answers familiar, but that day, strangely unfamiliar too. Maybe that was because of me hearing them differently, because I had grown since the last time he’d told me the story. Or maybe it was because something cold had settled in my stomach, like a sprinkling of snow.

“How big was the pile of bricks Harry was carrying?” I asked.

“Bigger than himself.”

“He was a good donkey though,” I said, knowing the story so well.

Frank nodded.

“So why did his owner treat him like he did?”

Again he waited a moment, leaving a space, like that silence was the place for me to work things out, to be ready to see the things he’d seen.

Frank threw the last of his papers on the fire. New sparks rose.

“When the donkey fell, the man couldn’t see that he’d have got up if he could.”

“What did you do, Frank?”

He poked the ashes with a stick.

“Pulled him back on his feet.”

I didn’t ask any more about this part of the story, eager to get past the struggle that I couldn’t bear to hear. Frank had never given any details, as if he was saving poor Harry from being shamed by what happened. And I kind of understood, if you can call it understanding by putting your own thoughts in a donkey’s head. Harry was strong and willing and he would have got up if he could, but Frank had to help him.

“You wanted to carry some of the bricks for Harry,” I reminded Frank.

He studied the crushed stem he’d been chewing. It took him a long time to answer and I wondered if there was another bit missing, a bit that Frank didn’t tell me.

“I made it worse. Poor grey donkey,” Frank said. I never understood this. How could anything be worse than poor Harry almost buried under his load? But Frank said no more. I wondered if he did it on purpose, stopping right at that point to give his story just about as much weight as Harry’s burden of bricks, to let the fact of the story sit inside me for a while so I could feel how heavy his heart had been when he’d seen the grey donkey buckling and having no choice but to try to get up and carry on.

“But you saved Harry! You bought him and took him away and he’s never had to work hard like that again.”

Frank rested his cheeks on his fists. He’d gone quiet. I knew the story so well I filled in the rest for him. The good bit.

“You rescued Harry. Together you travelled across countries that I’ve never even heard of, your tyres popping all the time while you drove up those stony mountain roads, following your friends from Germany who were on their motorbikes and who had maps of how to get to Europe. Then they helped you get visas and papers, to have all the checks that you and Harry had to have.”

I followed Frank’s eyes to the bonfire, to the papers now burning at our feet.

“And you avoided all the places where people would ask you too many questions about Harry, and all the time he was safe in the trailer behind your jeep with a pile of straw and a bunch of carrots.”

I could feel the freedom they must have had, travelling along like that together.

Frank looked over at me and I couldn’t help that the smoke from the fire was getting in my eyes.

“Then he had to go into quarantine. You hated that bit, being without Harry. I would too.”

“Listen,” Frank said. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking—” but I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want any of the words to be things I didn’t want him to say. I hadn’t meant to remind him that he loved travelling but I couldn’t hold things in any longer. If Frank left, and Harry with him, I didn’t know what I’d do.

“So have I,” I said, wedged up against him. “And right now it feels like only a minute ago that you and Harry arrived. And I feel the same, exactly the same as I did when I first met you and Harry.”

He rested his head on mine. I kept going.

“Remember when you came? All the dust your jeep kicked up, making big sandy dust flowers blooming along the lane all at once. Like all of a sudden everything was ready for you. Or we were. And I know you didn’t say yes at first…” I pulled Harry closer so Frank and Harry made a sandwich around me. “I remember you stood there for the longest time at the edge of the meadow and Marianne said there was no reason a donkey couldn’t live here because nobody used it. And you talked to Harry and I wish I knew what you’d said to him. Was it you or Harry who decided to stay?”

Frank laughed softly.

“Harry.”

“Harry?! See, he knew this place was right for you. Freshest greenest meadow he’d ever seen in his life, that’s what you always say. And I said I’ll brush him for you, he looks kind of grey, and you said…”

“He’s grey underneath that dust too.”

We smiled at Harry, his head and eyes drooping with sleep, standing quietly beside me. We touched him gently and I knew it was impossible for either of us ever to be without him. Harry chose the meadow, and that put me and Frank together too.

“You tell the story of Harry better than I ever did,” Frank said.

“He’s like the reason for all of us being together, Frank.”

I hoped that made sense to him and I think it did because he smiled in that way that made me feel even the whole world had nothing like we had.

He spoke to Harry, like I was supposed to hear too.

“What are we gonna do about you, Harry? You’ve still got some bad old habits, mate, and it’s just not good for you. I think we’ve gotten too used to each other and I’m not sure I can help you break them any more.”

Sometimes you want to show someone that there’s a good reason why you’re together too.

“I could help,” I said. “I mean, like you said, I am growing up and I love Harry. I could help him.”

Frank leaned over to Harry and patted his neck, slowly running his hand down Harry’s nose, having the kind of conversation that only they could have without saying any words. Then Frank said to him, “What do you reckon, Harry? Do you trust Hope? Me too.”

“Really? I’ll train Harry?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking. Nobody knows Harry like I do. It’s about time I let you in on that.”

“What, like, me look after him? Me and Harry?” Beautiful, sweet, safe Harry.

“How about we start now.”

(#ulink_57fd3d5b-57a5-5304-a535-69a3a0529520)

“See if you can put Harry in for the night,” Frank said.

“What do I do?”

“Wait here a second.” He strode ahead over to the bench outside the guesthouse and sat down. I guessed he was getting out of the way so that Harry and I could do this together by ourselves.

He called, “Tap his shoulder twice, left shoulder, and he’ll follow.”

I’d seen Frank do it a thousand times, but it’s not the same when you do it yourself and you haven’t realised it has to be his left shoulder and your fingers are nervous. Harry curved his neck around and looked at my hand. Like we didn’t speak the same language, not yet anyway.

“Come on, Harry,” I said, and started to walk. He didn’t follow.

I went back and did it again and Harry looked at my hand again, and I told him again, “Harry, come on, time to go inside.”

Harry looked over at Frank, one ear up, one ear down. He stayed where he was.

“Does he only understand Indian?” I said, which I realised was stupid as I’d never heard Frank use any other language.

Frank laughed. “It’s not the words or your voice he’s listening to. You have to feel that you mean it, so he feels it too. Feel sure. Then he’ll be part of you.”

Frank was about to get up and come back over. Of course that was what I wanted. Me and Harry, Me and Frank.

“Yes! I can do it. Give me a minute.”

Frank sat back down.

“And I was only joking,” I called over. “About talking Indian, I mean.”

“Take your time. He’ll be ready when you are.” Frank leaned back, rested one ankle on the other knee, his arm stretched across the back of the bench.

I stood beside Harry, tidied his fringe. I didn’t want to disappoint anybody, including myself. I knew there was something between Harry and me that I had to find – what Frank and Harry had, what Peter and I had. When you just kind of fall in with each other’s footsteps.

I looked over at Frank.

If I looked after Harry, would I be completely in their world? Would that make it impossible for me and Frank and Harry to ever be apart? It was all I wanted. I’d never wanted anything so much, or tried so hard.

I thought of me and Harry. Of us being like yoghurt and honey too. I tapped Harry on his left shoulder twice. This time, he followed.

I couldn’t stop smiling at the little grey donkey, who was with me in a way he’d never been before. It felt huge and new and exciting.

When Harry got closer to his shed, he went over to see Frank. Maybe Harry was just checking they were still best mates, or maybe he wanted to tell Frank in his nuzzly donkey kind of way that he was OK with the choice he’d made for me to look after him too.

Frank sat forward, wrists dangling over his knees.

“Good boy, Harry,” he said.

Harry leaned his head over Frank’s shoulder. They said something else to each other again, but not in words or a language I understood, yet.

“Has he got clean water?” Frank said.

I checked inside the shed and ran back to tell him, “I filled the bucket up, right to the top. And changed the bedding.”

Frank patted Harry, just like he always did. I loved that about Frank, how he changed things without anyone being left out.

“G’night, Harry, mate,” he said. Magic words.

Harry turned away and I took him into the shed, fresh with straw and an apple I’d left for him to chomp on.