Free Mahalia by Joanne Horniman Page B

the bottom of the cup with her fingers.
    â€˜That’s a shame,’ she said. But she was used to people resorting to desperate measures. She’d have pawned her own voice sometimes if she’d been able to.
    â€˜Pawned it?’ said Otis. ‘Shit, man.’ He handed Matt an old acoustic belonging to his father. ‘This is a crap guitar, but it’s something to play on.’ It wasn’t a bass, but it would have to do. Matt tuned it.
    Charmian stood smoking, holding her cigarette out the window between puffs, pretending she wasn’t smoking inside.
    â€˜Hey, Matt,’ she said, ‘You ever read the Bible?’ Charmian had a sincere and unswerving belief in the capacity of the Bible to help people.
    â€˜No,’ said Matt.
    â€˜It’s the Truth, that book,’ she said seriously. ‘You betta read it, boy. You should bring that baby girl of yours up a Christian.‘
    Matt smiled and strummed a few chords.
    Charmian’s grandchildren were visiting. They roughed around with Mahalia on the floor. Mahalia loved it: she came up panting for air and then hurled herself forward on top of them again.
    Alan came in and Charmian threw the cigarette out the window. He sniffed, suspiciously. ‘Who’s been smoking in here?’
    â€˜Now I’m going to pick up my baby,’ said Charmian airily, ignoring him and plucking Mahalia out of the scrum of children. Mahalia didn’t like strangers now, but Charmian was no stranger, and she smiled at her and reached out to tug at her hair.
    Matt hitched up to his mother’s place, because he wanted to escape from town for a bit, and because he knew she liked him to visit. He got lonely for someone he was connected to. Otis and Alan and Charmian were good to visit but they still weren’t his family.
    It was that day, watching her grandmother drink a cup of tea, that Mahalia decided she would like to drink from a cup. She reached towards it, grunting and stretching out her hands. Matt’s mother got up and fetched an old plastic cup of Matt’s that had been in the cupboard all this time, and gave her some water in it.
    Mahalia put her mouth to the lip of the cup eagerly, and Matt tipped it up. Water ran down her chin, but she managed to swallow some. She looked up at Matt and smiled, thumping her hand on the table, she was so delighted with herself. Later, when Matt offered her milk in a bottle she waved it away, so he offered her the cup with some milk in it, and she drank, licking her lips and lifting her eyes up to him, showing that she wanted more.
    Now that she could drag herself across the floor it was impossible to keep her clean, for the floors at Matt’s place were ingrained with dirt. The pink singlet that she wore was covered with black grime, and so were her hands and face. She was happy and filthy.
    While Matt was outside wandering in the garden his mother bathed her, and dressed her in a new playsuit she’d bought. As she was doing up the buttons she saw Matt leaning against the doorway, watching. She sat Mahalia in the middle of the floor with some plastic blocks, and took her dirty things out to the laundry, where she soaked them in a bucket.
    â€˜I think you should take Mahalia to see Emmy’s parents,’ she said briskly and conversationally, when she returned. ‘I’m sure they’d like to see her.’
    Matt thought about what she’d said. ‘Well, you’re probably right,’ he said after a while. ‘After Emmy had her they only saw her once or twice. Emmy never wanted to go to them.‘
    â€˜There could be lots of reasons for that – Emmy was always fighting them, wasn’t she? And, okay, I know they were hard on her too. But you know, it’s not just for them, but for Mahalia. Children need grandparents.’
    â€˜You could have done with some,‘she added, looking half-ashamed. ‘But I didn’t have any say in the matter.