Klara and the Sun

Josie stepped further into the room, her head still stooped, her glance moving everywhere. Then she began to work, lifting one item, pushing another, creating new piles where none had existed. Once, failing to anticipate her rapid movements, I nearly collided with her, and she laughed loudly.

‘Klara! Just stay over there. Right over there. I’m trying to do something.’

Before long she’d cleared a space immediately beneath the high small window, then pushed a wooden trunk into the space. She next picked up and carried over a plastic crate with a tight-fitting lid and lowered it carefully on top of the trunk.

‘There you go.’ She stood back, pleased with what she’d done, though the rest of the room had become very untidy. ‘Give that a go, Klara. Just be careful. The second step’s quite high. Come on, I want you to try it.’

I came out of the corner and without difficulty negotiated the two steps she’d created, till I was standing on the lid of the plastic crate.

‘Don’t worry, those things are really strong,’ she said. ‘Just treat it like a floor. Trust me, it’s safe.’

She laughed again, and kept watching me, so I smiled, then looked out of the high small window. The view was similar to the old one from Josie’s rear window two floors below. Of course, the trajectory had altered, and a part of the roof was intruding into the right of my picture. But I could see the gray sky stretching over the cut fields all the way to Mr McBain’s barn.

‘You should have told me before,’ Josie said. ‘I know how much you love looking out.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

For a moment we looked at each other with gentle smiles. Then she glanced around at the items strewn over the floor.

‘Boy, what a mess! Okay, I promise to tidy everything. But just now I’ve got to go attend to something. Don’t try doing any of this yourself. I’ll do it later, okay?’

—

The Mother, like Josie, had less to do with me during this period, sometimes not looking my way even when she encountered me around the house. I understood that this was a busy time for her, and also that possibly my presence brought back difficult memories. But there was one occasion when she gave me special attention.

Josie herself was away that day, but it being the weekend, the Mother was at home. I’d been up in the Utility Room for most of the morning, but when I’d heard the voices below, I’d gone out onto the top landing. I then quickly realized the man speaking with the Mother down in the hallway was Mr Capaldi.

I was surprised because there hadn’t been any mention of Mr Capaldi for a long time. He and the Mother were talking in easy tones, but as they continued, I could hear tension enter the Mother’s voice. Then her footsteps sounded, and I saw her looking up at me from three floors below.

‘Klara,’ she called up. ‘Mr Capaldi’s here. You’ll remember him, of course. Come on down and say hello.’

Then as I was descending carefully, I heard the Mother say: ‘That wasn’t the agreement, Henry. That wasn’t what you said.’

To which Mr Capaldi said: ‘I just want to put it to her. That’s all.’

Mr Capaldi was heavier than when I’d last seen him that day in his building, and the hair around his ears had become a lighter gray. He greeted me warmly, then led the way into the Open Plan, saying: ‘Just wanted to run a few things past you, Klara. You could be of great help to us.’

The Mother said nothing as she followed us in. Mr Capaldi sat down on the modular sofa, leaning back into the cushions, and this relaxed posture reminded me of the boy Danny, at the interaction meeting, sitting on the same sofa with a leg extended across it. In contrast to Mr Capaldi’s manner, the Mother remained standing very straight in the center of the room, and when Mr Capaldi invited me to sit, she said:

‘I think Klara’s happier standing. Let’s get on with this, Henry.’

‘Come on, Chrissie. This is nothing we have to stress about.’

Then he came out of his relaxed posture, leaning forward towards me.

‘You’ll remember, Klara, how much I’ve always been fascinated by AFs. I’ve always regarded you as our friends. A vital source of education and enlightenment. But as you know, there are people out there who worry about you. People who are scared and resentful.’

‘Henry,’ the Mother said. ‘Please get to the point.’