‘It’s nice that, isn’t it?’
I don’t answer by talking. My mouth is too full. So I just rub my belly and smile at Dod. He smiles back at me.
‘I’ve more up in the kitchen. Think I’ll have one myself later.’
Dod’s sitting on the edge of my bed while I sit on my new chair. I love it. It’s all squishy and comfortable to sit in. I do a lot of my reading in this now, not in my bed like I used to. Though my bed is more comfortable than it’s ever been. Dod bought me loads of new things – a chair, a bed, shelves for all my books, lots of new books including loads of my favourites that he ripped up during that really angry night, magazines, colouring books, wallpaper. I forgot what wallpaper even was. When Dod put it up in my room I remembered I had some back in my Mummy and Daddy’s house. I had pink wallpaper then with my name Betsy written across it in white.
I tried not to feel bad when I thought about my old bedroom back at Mummy and Daddy’s house because Dod was being so nice to me and trying to make my bedroom all nice and fresh. The wallpaper he put up in here is yellow. Bright yellow. Yellow isn’t my favourite colour, but I still like it. Even though Dod has put loads of new things in my room, the room looks bigger. I have sixty-one books now. Amazing. My new favourite books are called Chronicles of Narnia. It’s seven different books all in a little box that Dod bought me.
He has been really nice ever since the angry night. I think that when I said I wanted to go to heaven that Dod felt really sad. That’s why he made my room more bright and beautiful and why he bought me loads of things. He buys me new things every day now. Today I got an ice cream. I’d never heard of an ice cream before, but it is delicious. It said on the wrapper that it was called Orange Split. I lick at the little stick, taking all of the cream off and then breathe. I think I ate all the ice cream without breathing.
‘Jaysus, ye milled all that.’
‘Milled?’
‘Yeah… like you ate it really fast, really quickly.’
‘Oh.’
I grab at my notebook and pen and write down the word ‘milled’ and then beside it write ‘to eat something really fast’.
I do this all the time if I am reading and don’t know a word. I’ll try to work it out for myself and if I can’t I’ll ask Dod when he pays me a visit. I love learning new words.
‘Can you get me another notebook, Dod, please?’
‘Ye running out of room on that one already?’
I flick through my notebook.
‘Not yet… but I want this one to be for new words but in a new notebook I would like to write my own story.’
‘A story? What’s your story going to be about?’
I look up at my ceiling. Even though the stone walls are now covered with wallpaper and my stone floor is mostly covered with an orange rug, the ceiling is still stone. It’s still cold.
‘I might write it about you.’
‘Bout me?’
‘Yes. I think I might call it Dod’s Adventures.’ He smiles a little bit at me. ‘It would be about what you do when you are not in my room. What you do when you are up there.’
I just point up the steps, I don’t look up them. Dod hasn’t been angry Dod in ages – not since the really angry night – but I still don’t want to make him turn into angry Dod, so I don’t look up the steps.
Dod laughs a little bit.
‘And what do you think I get up to up there?’
I stare up at the cold ceiling again. I don’t want to mention my Mummy and Daddy because I know that is how good Dod can turn into angry Dod.
‘Eh… I remember from before I came here that there was a thing called television. I used to watch a show called Thomas the Tank Engine. It was about trains. I think you probably watch television when you are not here with me.’
I close my eyes a bit because I’m not sure if talking about what happened before I came here will turn him into angry Dod. He moves off the bed and comes near me. He gets down on his knees right beside me.
‘And what do you think I watch on the television?’
I can smell his breath. It’s the same all the time. It smells warm. Every time I smell it, it reminds me of the day he stole me away from Daddy.
I open my eyes and look at him. He is smiling. That is good.
‘Do you watch Thomas the Tank Engine?’
He laughs. Then he shakes his head.
‘I eh… don’t know. How many things are on television?’
‘Too many things.’
I laugh this time.
‘I don’t know, Betsy… I watch the news.’
‘The news?’
‘Yeah – it’s a television programme where somebody reads out what happened around the world every day.’
‘Wow.’
That sounds really good. Really, really good. I would love to watch the news. But I don’t say anything else to Dod. I can’t ask if I can go up there anymore. He’s afraid I will scream again even though I never would. My back hurt for so many weeks after that last time. I still don’t think my back is as good as it used to be. I read in a book once that somebody broke their bones. I think I might have broke a bone in my back. But Dod doesn’t let me see doctors or let doctors see me. Dod doesn’t let me see anyone. See anything.
‘You were on the news lots of times.’
I look at Dod.
‘Me?’
‘Yeah – lots of times. For lots of years.’
Dod stands up, puts his hand on my head and messes my hair like he does sometimes. Then he walks back up the steps.
‘I’m gonna go get me one of those Orange Splits.’
I turn around and watch as he goes up the steps and closes the door. Then I get out of my chair and crawl under my bed sheets to find my best friend.
‘Did you hear that, Bozy. We were on the television lots of times.’