The Girl in the Red Coat

22

When I wake up I think I must have died again — my eyes glued tight and my mouth stuck together. I’m lying down, but moving too — forward, the same way my head’s pointing. Inside my body, there’s a great big stone pinning me down.

I think I must be in that tunnel on my way to the pearly gates — I’ve heard people talking about what it’s like to die. It’s a long black tunnel then you see a bright light at the end and there are all your friends and family waiting for you who have died before and pearly gates come into it somewhere but I’m not sure how.

I really see some gates right in front of my face but they’re not made of pearl. They’re grey metal with cold coming off them. I’ve seen them somewhere before. Then they go away and red flowers start opening out on black behind my eyes instead. I go back down into a sleep that’s like falling into a pile of pillows.

When I wake up I remember my name is Carmel.

I’m being rattled around now. I’m in a sort of factory maybe, rolling forward like an engine or a chocolate to the place where metal arms will pack me up into a box. Once I think I’m going to fall off the moving belt but I don’t know what onto — I feel like I’ll carry on falling. Further and further and forever.

Then another long sleep then awake again.

I try to make sense of what I see. After a long while I decide it’s a ceiling, but with light and shadows rushing over it. I rest my eyes then — I’m tired to my bones — but I don’t want to fall asleep again so I roll around till I’m on my side.

There’s shadows and I start seeing four eyes in them, amber colour, looking at me sideways. Not one next to the other, like they should be in a head, but one on top of the other. I don’t even know if I’m scared. I watch the four eyes lined up in a row. They watch me back, blinking sometimes.

Then a voice: ‘We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, like — for ages.’

One of the pairs of eyes moves upwards and round and then they’re next to each other — like they should be — but floating in the air. The other pair down below stays the same, blinking and watching.

‘I didn’t know anyone could sleep like that. It’s like you’ve been dead or something.’ It’s a television voice: a squeaky American cartoon.

I mumble something. Not real words, just a silly croak and there’s the noise of both pairs of eyes laughing.

‘You sound so funny.’ The top pair of eyes seems to be doing all the talking. The ones down below just watch.

I properly pop back into myself for the first time. Lying on bunk beds there’s two girls looking exactly the same. They could be two of the exact same person. The one below’s got her head on a pillow but the one above is sitting up and leaning down to look. She swings her feet over and dangles them over the edge. She’s wearing black patent shoes and a flouncy dress with lace that puffs up around her like she’s landed there in a parachute.

The one down below speaks for the first time.

‘Silver — you shouldn’t have your shoes on when you’re in bed. You’ll get into trouble again.’

‘Oh, who cares about that? She won’t know anyhow.’

Top-bunk girl stands up. She has to crouch so she doesn’t bang into the ceiling and she looks like she’ll fall over we’re jolting about so much now.

‘I don’t care. I’ll dance on the bed, I’ll do the moonwalk.’ And she starts to lift her knees up and down, pounding her feet into the bright cover. It doesn’t look anything like the moonwalk to me.

‘Hey you, you girl — watch me dance in my shoes, watch me.’ She carries on dancing so I’m afraid she might shoot off the bed and land right on top of me.

The one below starts laughing and smacking her hand on the bedpost in time.

‘Dance, Silver, dance. Kick your legs right up so you show your panties.’

The dancing girl brings her knees up higher and higher. Her lacy dress bounces and her long black hair flicks up and down. She stops all of a sudden and flops down on the bed.

I want to talk to them but my words don’t seem to make sense.

‘What’s that?’ says top-bunk girl. ‘What does she say?’

I look around me. My bed’s on one side with the bunk beds against the other wall. Behind us there’s a curtain hanging up. It’s got red, pink and green in the pattern and the word ‘paisley’ comes into my head from out of nowhere. There’s a window, very high up. That’s where the light’s coming from, streaming over the ceiling.

‘I’m Carmel,’ I manage to say. But I’m not really telling them — I’m reminding myself of something I nearly forgot.

Bottom-bunk girl says, ‘I’m Melody,’ but the top-bunk one says, ‘We know that, of course. Carmel — it’s kind of funny.’

I want to say — not as funny as you, with your horse names and your squeaky voices. But the box we’re in jolts hard, enough to nearly tip the three of us off our beds. It comes to a slow grinding stop.