The Standing Water (11 page)

‘Ding dong merrily
on high! In heaven bells are ringing!’

Did they have bells
in heaven? Surely bells were heavy – wouldn’t they fall down? Now I thought
about it, I’d heard legends of people being hit by bits of metal falling from
the sky. Or perhaps God kept those bells floating with His magic or some
unfortunate angels had the job of holding them up.

‘Ding dong merrily
the sky! In heaven angels singing!’

Angels! So maybe
I’d been right about them keeping those bells hovering. I sucked a deep breath
– I knew what would come.

‘Glooooooooria!
Hosanna in excelsis!’

I panted, drew air
into my famished lungs, but I was proud I’d made it to the end of that long phrase.
What did those words mean? Maybe we’d never know. Perhaps they formed part of
some mysterious language only teachers and angels understood. Perkins plinked
on. I again pulled in breath as that phrase approached.

‘Gloooooooria!
Hosanna in excelsis!’

Perkins went on
plonking and we roared out our happy words until the song’s end came, and our
voices and Perkins’s plinks dwindled.

‘Sit down
children!’ Weirton said.

Weirton paced till
we’d all got seated on the floor. The vast face scrunched as if he was thinking
hard; his teeth clamped his lower lip. He turned to us.

‘Children,’ the
voice rumbled, ‘as I’m sure you know, there is a special reason why we sing
these songs at this holy time, why we hang up these beautiful decorations.’ The
huge hand gestured towards our sparkling tree. ‘Yes, we follow these wonderful
traditions to celebrate the birth of our saviour Jesus Christ!’

‘Now –’ Weirton’s
eyes panned our rows ‘– before Jesus was born the world was a very dark place!’

I’d heard that said
before. When I was in the infants, I’d believed that before Christ came it was
always night and everybody had to trudge around with burning torches
constantly. But after Jesus arrived, we began to have days too. Yet Mrs Leigh
had laughed, told me I’d got it wrong. It wasn’t really ‘dark’ she’d said,
‘dark’ was just a way of saying people were mean and treated each other badly.
So I gained the much more accurate impression that people had gone around
hitting each other over the head with stone clubs, but after Jesus they’d all
decided it would be much better to be nice and be friends instead. It was long
ago so I imagined a time of people living in caves, with probably a few
dinosaurs around. What Weirton went on to say seemed to confirm this.

‘Yes, it was very
dark. Do you know what happened with Adam and Eve, the first man and woman? I’m
sure you do.’

Weirton allowed a
pause. He resumed his pacing, let his next words judder out.

‘Adam and Eve were
very lucky because God made them a beautiful garden to live in. It was
wonderful – full of lush grass, huge ferns and lovely trees.’

I could just
picture it. How different, I thought, to the land round Emberfield. I glanced
from the window. Since the day of my walloping it hadn’t snowed, but the snow
hadn’t melted either. It just lay around in sullen dirty clumps. I gazed at the
bleak land outside – the naked hedgerows, the skeletal trees, the dark fields speckled
with snow. Perhaps having to live in Emberfield was God’s punishment for our
sins.

‘And in that garden,’
Weirton said, ‘there was no hate, no violence. Everything and everybody lived
peacefully together. The lion lay down with the lamb; the spider didn’t hunt
the fly. And God told Adam and Eve they could eat from any of the wonderful
trees expect
one
!’

Weirton’s finger
shot up. In silence, he paced for some seconds.

‘The Tree of the
Knowledge of Good and Evil! Now, the Devil was jealous of this paradise God had
made – he wanted to spoil it! So he took the form of a serpent and sneaked into
the garden. And the snake persuaded Eve to eat of that forbidden tree and she
persuaded Adam to do the same! As a punishment, God threw Adam and Eve out of
their lovely garden and they were
never
allowed to go back! God sent
some angels with a flaming sword to guard the gate so they could
never
get back in!’

Angels again! Surely
I could have no more doubts those beings were on earth among us!

‘Adam and Eve could
no longer live by just picking fruit from trees. Because of their great sin,
they had to work
hard
to farm the land – they had to labour and toil to
bring forth their food from the miserable earth!’

I looked out of the
window at Emberfield’s sombre flatlands and nodded.

‘And the animals
that had been peaceful became fierce and nasty – they started killing and
eating one another! And the snake – God had a special punishment for him!’

‘Maybe God whacked
him,’ I thought.

‘You see, at first,
children, the snake had legs. He used to move about on legs like all the other
animals.’

A centipede snake,
with scores of spindly legs, appeared in my mind.

‘God took the
snake’s legs away! He told him he and all his children had to crawl on their
bellies and eat dust! So, you see children, that’s why snakes have no legs.’

‘But things got
even worse!’ Weirton had stop pacing; his arm jolted his pointing finger as he
waved it over us. ‘Adam and Eve had two sons, Cain and Abel.’

Weirton told us
about the brothers’ sacrifices, about their smoke drifting up to the Lord in
heaven, about God deciding He preferred the lamb to wheat.

‘And Cain grew
jealous of his brother Abel!’ Weirton’s face was reddening, his hand knotted
itself into a fist, that fist started to shake. ‘And Cain began to
hate
his brother in his heart!
Who
could be evil enough to hate his own
brother!?’

I glanced over at
Jonathon. He was staring straight ahead at Weirton, but his lips quivered
slightly. I sometimes wondered if he hated Craig. I’d understand if he did,
especially after things like the ice-ball incident, though in the last few days
the brothers had been getting on.

‘
Who
–’
Weirton’s fist shook harder, bashed his thigh ‘– could hate his own brother!?’

I didn’t know. I
had a little sister, but as she was just a girl maybe she didn’t count.

‘Well’ – the voice
rumbled, boomed around the hall – ‘Cain went even beyond the sin of hatred. Oh
yes, he committed a far greater evil! He actually
murdered
his brother!’

All the children
gasped. Far more than the vicar’s gentle words had, Weirton’s waving fists and
juddering voice brought home to me the horrors of Cain’s sin. Though I hated my
sister sometimes, I could never murder her. I again looked over at Jonathon. He
was still staring at Weirton, but his lips were wobbling more. His eyes were
wide though whether with horror, fascination or a mixture of the two I couldn’t
tell. His hand rested on his thigh – a hand which, I noticed, was shaking.

‘Who could be evil
enough,’ Weirton yelled, ‘to murder his brother!?’

Weirton told us
about Cain’s punishment, about him receiving his dreadful mark.

‘And he could never
get it off!’ Weirton’s fist went on waving; it swooped to bash his thigh; his
face had shaded into a deeper red. ‘He had to wander all his life
branded
with that mark everyone would know him by,
shun
him because of! All his
life he was nothing but a wanderer on the earth –
that
,
children,
is the consequence of sin, of violence, of disobedience!’

Weirton allowed a
pause. The hall was hushed – the children were pale: everyone seemed in awe of
God’s justice, shocked at Cain’s sin. Weirton was panting after all his
shouting, his exertions, his rage. He let a couple of minutes pass before he
said softly.

‘But into this
terrible world, into this world of darkness so
evil
brothers murdered one
another, there came a light!’

‘Thank goodness for
that!’ I thought.

‘There were many
signs and portents Jesus would be special. The Three Wise Men came to visit Him
after walking for days and days, miles and miles following their star so they
could bring Him presents.’

‘Why not just Santa
Claus?’ I thought.

‘An angel appeared
to some shepherds who were guarding their flocks. Can you imagine how those
simple shepherds must have felt, seeing this incredible being surrounded by
dazzling light? They were
terrified
! But the angel told them not to be
afraid and to go and visit Jesus!’

My mouth dropped –
angels again: how would it be to stand and gape before their shimmering glow? I
hoped I wouldn’t be frightened, and that – if I was – Dennis Stubbs wouldn’t
find out. Maybe many people saw those wondrous beings around Christmas, but I couldn’t
think of anyone who had, except perhaps Mr Weirton. He certainly knew a lot
about angels.

‘Well,’ said
Weirton, looking at his watch, ‘what did Jesus teach us? He came to lead us out
of all that darkness. He told us to be kind to one another; He spoke against violence;
He told us to love our brothers – not kill them! He told us to be peaceful, to
be patient, to be understanding, to forgive – if someone does something bad to
us, we shouldn’t seek revenge, we shouldn’t try to hurt them back, but we
should try to forgive.’

‘He was pretty
different to God,’ I thought, as confusion wrinkled my face.

‘And do you know
what else He told us?’ Weirton’s smile was broad; his finger waved; his arm
still jerked, but joy rather than rage jolted it. ‘He said we just have to believe
in Him and that – if we do – when we die, we will go to live in Heaven forever.
Now Heaven is a wonderful place, children, full of love and light – even better
than the garden God planted for Adam and Eve. And – if we believe in Jesus and
try to follow His teachings – we can live in this happy place with all our
friends and families for ever and evermore.’

It sounded good to
me; I just hoped Stubbs wouldn’t be there. I wondered if people got whacked in
heaven – probably not, I reasoned.

‘You see, children,
Jesus was God’s present to us – the first ever and best Christmas present. So
when you’re enjoying yourselves on Christmas morning – unwrapping your gifts,
riding your new bikes, just spare a moment to think of the precious gift God
gave us that first Christmas.’

We rounded things
off by belting out another carol then headed back to our classes. As the surge
of children bulged through the hall doors, I overheard Suzie Green whispering
to Helen Jacobs.

‘Jesus didn’t live
for very long, did He?’

‘How do you mean?’ asked
Helen, as always refined and sensible.

‘Well, He was born
at Christmas and died at Easter.’

‘Not in the same
year, silly! He died many years later.’

‘So, how old was He?’

‘I don’t know
exactly, but very old – maybe even fourteen.’

‘Fourteen!’

We laboured through
a dull morning with Perkins, but I was at least aware of each joyful tick of
the clock counting us down to the holidays. As I ploughed through my drab yet
easy sums, I pondered. Weirton had been so kind recently. I thought of the way
he’d spoken in assembly about Jesus and heaven, the way he’d praised our
decorations and even shown patience with dimbos like Suzie Green. And it was a while
since he’d given out a tremendous hiding. Even that one he’d given me – maybe
it had seemed worse at the time than it really was. After all, I’d never seen
anyone die or get injured from his thrashings. It now seemed foolish to have
believed he’d caused the deaths of Lucy and Marcus. However those kids had met
their ends, I was sure it wasn’t the teacher’s doing.

Lunchtime came and
we trooped into the hall for the school’s Christmas dinner. Weirton beamed as
we tugged our crackers, topped our heads with paper crowns. My nostrils
joyfully sucked in the smell of sprouts, the sludgy aroma of gravy, the cloying
scent of the huge turkeys as the dinner ladies bore them to our tables. I
remember the gravy-soaked stuffing coating my tongue, gluing itself gloriously
to the roof of my mouth, my joy at savouring its herby salty taste and that
taste mixing deliciously with the sweeter cranberry sauce. I looked across the
table. Craig was ladling sprouts from a big metal container, heaping them on
Jonathon’s plate, making sure his brother got enough. I wasn’t sure how
Jonathon would make his way through that mountain of green, but he still smiled
gratefully at the brother’s efforts. Next Craig snatched up a gravy boat and
gave Jonathon’s plate a soaking. With his enthusiastic movements, he managed to
trail his jumper’s cuffs in that brown liquid, but still Jonathon smiled at his
brother’s helpfulness. It was good to see them so friendly. They’d had their
tensions since the day the brother had nearly blinded Jonathon. They’d teased
each other, bickered, shouted, wrestled, had fistfights – fights which left
Jonathon bleeding and bruised, howling and sobbing. But now I was reminded of
how well they used to get on.