Love, love, love.”
“There,” said Heaven. “You does eye what gentleness he has? You does eye how he is kind?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes. He will do no harm.”
January cursed under his breath.
Mouse watched us from the shadows in a corner. Squeak tumbled through his fingers.
Soon Grampa rose from the table. He took his jacket off.
“Turn round,” said Heaven Eyes.
We turned our eyes away. We heard Grampa undressing. When we looked back again, he wore nothing but a pair of black knee-length shorts. His skin was blue gray, with tracks of black sediment in the creases.He had a tattoo of an anchor on his hairy chest. His legs were skinny, he had a little potbelly, but there were great muscles on his arms and shoulders. He went to the door and pulled on a pair of huge boots. He bent down and kissed Heaven Eyes and his hair and beard fell over her pale shining face. He picked up a spade and a bucket and stepped out into the darkening night.
“He is off treasuring,” said Heaven, and her eyes widened in excitement. “And mebbe tonight’s the moony night when Heaven’s treasure is chucked into the bucket.”
“Can we go with him?” I asked.
She smiled.
“Oh, Erin,” she said. “Most definite you can. Come on, Janry Carr. Come on, Mouse and Squeak. Let’s eye Grampa digging in the moony starry night.”
T HE SKY GLITTERED ABOVE THE WAREHOUSES . We stumbled in potholes and grazed our knuckles on stone. Heaven glided before us, pale hair waving gently as she walked. Beyond her, the black shape of Grampa lurched toward the river. Closer to the river we saw the sky burning above the city. Hundreds of tiny lights marked the bridge’s arch. Distant steeples and blocks of flats were silhouetted against the sky. The river glowed like polished metal beneath the moon. There was far-off squealing from Norton Quay. Grampa stooped down, then turned and lowered himself onto the ancient ladder. His eyes glittered as he stared back at us.
“Good evening, Grampa Caretaker!” called Heaven.
“This is me with my friends, Erin, Janry and Mouse. We is patrolling and watching for ghosts.”
He raised his hand, then descended.
We squatted above and watched. He went to the raft and inspected it. He traced his fingers over January’s curse. Then he walked on and we heard his feet slopping and slithering in the mud. He started to dig. There were great sucks and slaps as he lifted the Middens, spadeful by spadeful. Water drained and splashed. He laid a heap of mud beside him, then crouched beside it and sifted through it with his fingers. He discovered many things. He held them up to the moon. He scraped away the mud on them. He threw some of them out into the river. He put others into his bucket. Then he lay down at the hole he had dug and reached deep down into it. He reached arm-deep into the Middens and searched and searched. New discoveries were thrown out into the river or dropped into the bucket. Then he shoved the heap back into the hole. He lifted the bucket, went to another part of the Middens, and began again. We lay down on the broken ground, faces dangling over the edge. A smell of oil and rot and fish rose from the Black Middens below. Sometimes a sudden stench passed over us and we gagged and held our breath until it had drifted away. Grampa slithered and dug and the moon shone down on him and he was like some ancient creature struggling there, like something made of the Middens mud himself.
Mouse was wide-eyed and staring. He came close to me.
“This is like me,” he said. “Like me, digging in the dirt for treasures.”
I laughed.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s just like you.”
“There’ll be all sorts in there,” he said, “washed down by the river. There’ll be things from centuries back.”
He looked at Heaven Eyes.
“Could I go and help him?” he said.
“Oh, Mouse,” she said. “That will be so nice for Grampa to have his little helper. Yes, Mouse, go and help. Grampa!” she
Christopher R. Weingarten