A Suitcase of Colours

by Anne Wilkins

The first time I saw him I was with Ma, ready to board the train. He definitely looked odd; the kind of odd where people have to look twice just to make sure their eyes aren’t tricking them. He was standing on the platform wearing one of those black and white suits with a little bow tie and a black top hat, carrying a large suitcase. Even more strange was that he was whistling to himself, tapping his shiny shoes and sometimes pausing mid-whistle to sing. I knew adults weren’t supposed to do that kind of stuff out in the open. That was all meant for indoors where folks can’t see you. In the real world, you’ve got to act a certain way, respectable-like. Maybe someone hadn’t told the old man about the rules, because it was like he was coloured bright green, or even pink when everyone else was black, white and grey.

“Don’t look Abby,” hissed Ma beside me, and her hand that was holding mine clenched a little tighter, as if I’d done something wrong. Back then, I didn’t know it was rude to stare, that the polite thing to do was to ignore the odd and pretend they didn’t even exist.

“Come on now; the train’s almost here.” And she pulled me away closer to the edge of the platform, where I’d have to turn my head right around if I wanted to see the old man. I was tempted, but I knew she’d be mad, so instead, I listened to his whistling and his sometimes-singing and found my sneaker doing a tap-tap of its own.

When the train pulled in, it took me by surprise. It looked nothing like Thomas the Tank Engine with his pretty colours and happy face, ready for adventure. That’s what I had thought was coming. That’s what Ma had told me; you’re going to ride on Thomas; won’t that be fun? Instead, this one was long and silver, kinda dull and dirty. It reminded me of a cage, a big long metal one with glass windows instead of bars. It hissed as it came to a stop and its doors slid open hungrily.

“Let’s go,” said Ma, and she pulled my hand. But my sneakers didn’t seem to want to move. There was something not nice about the train. Or maybe there was something not nice about the whole thing. Whatever it was, my feet stayed still, and felt all heavy like I’d grown roots into the concrete.

Ma’s voice started to get an edge to it, “We haven’t got all day, Abby. Get a move on.” This time she yanked my hand and my feet lifted from the platform. My school bag slipped from my shoulders and my eyes started watering. I knew the crying would make Ma more angry, but I couldn’t help myself. And the more I thought about not crying, the more my eyes watered.

“For Christ’s sake; I can’t deal with this,” Ma muttered, and her hand clamped down on mine, real hard. Squeezing so tight, not from love, but from something else.

“Oww,” I said, but quiet-like, because I didn’t want anyone to hear, or to look.

The old man stepped forward. He’d stopped whistling, and he was holding my school bag. Up close, his eyes were soft, like Ma’s used to be. His big grey moustache looked all tickly and he reminded me of Sir Topham Hatt from Thomas the Tank Engine.

“Is this yours, my Lady?” he asked, and he smiled. I hadn’t seen a smile like that for a long time and I’d never been called a Lady. It made me giggle, which was strange to go from crying to giggling, but Ma always said I was a strange child.

“Thank you,” said Ma and she grabbed my school bag. Her words didn’t sound like a thank you.

“After you.” The old man gestured to those metal doors with an open hand, as if he really was Sir Topham Hatt, and somehow my sneakers found their own way onto the carriage with Ma and the old man behind me.

Onboard the train, there was more black and white and grey, people looking at phones or out the window. No one here was bright green or pink. Ma and I found a seat and she became like everyone else, a grey, looking out the window. The old man sat in the seat across from me. He didn’t have a phone to play with, and he wasn’t looking out the window, but he was looking at me.

“Is this your first time on a train?” he asked. 

I looked over to Ma to see if it was all right to talk to him because I wasn’t sure if he was still a stranger now that we’d spoken, but she never looked back. There’d been a silence for such a long time, I thought it was rude not to reply.

“Yes,” I said in a small voice. 

“You’ll like it through the tunnels; it goes black, and then I like to count to see how long it takes before we get to the other side.” 

“That sounds like fun.”

I thought Ma might’ve joined in with talking to the old man, but she was still staring out the window. She wasn’t holding my hand now either; it was just resting on her big belly, stroking what lay there.

“Are you Sir Topham Hatt from Thomas the Tank Engine?” I asked. 

The old man laughed. “Would you like me to be?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I shall be. Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss…?”

“Abby.” I didn’t give him my last name. I wasn’t even sure what my last name would be anymore; things were different now.

“What’s in your suitcase, Sir Hatt?” I asked, and his moustache twitched like he was going to sneeze or laugh.

“Ahhh, today I have dragons. Ten of them, bright red and scaly with fearsome manners. They never say please or thank you and they burn all my toast. Quite frightful things really.”

“Can I see?” I asked excitedly.

“No. I’m afraid not. If I let them out on this train they would cause complete havoc and I’d never get them back in the suitcase. You’re just going to have to take me at my word.” And he gave me a little wink. It reminded me of the way Daddy used to wink at me before he died, when he’d be holding up a card for me to pick. Pick a card, Abby, pick a card, any one, he’d say, and then I’d pick one and he’d always end up guessing it, and giving me a little wink, as if he knew something I didn’t. He always had the magic in him. He was bright green, like the man, and back then, Ma was a pink. That was when we all had colour.

#

There’s a scale for earthquakes that goes from one to ten. One is just a little quake, that most people wouldn’t even feel, and ten is like a giant ripping up the earth. Ma says the one that hit us was a six and a half. It was the kind of earthquake where the shelves all trembled and the fancy ornaments fell down and the floor went all bendy. The power and the phone lines went out, and some buildings toppled just like Jenga, but for real. Our home didn’t topple, but Daddy’s work building did. Still, Daddy had the magic in him, so I wasn’t expecting him to die. I knew he’d have a trick up his sleeve, and he’d be giving me a wink, and saying, See, Abby, here I am; you didn’t see that coming, did you?

But Daddy never did come back. And somehow the magic went with him and all the colour. 

Ma drained away to white. Some days she’s grey, even black, but she’s never been pink since.

I’m thinking all this as we near our train stop. I’d like to tell Sir Hatt about Daddy, but Ma doesn’t like me talking about him anymore because it makes her cry.

“Bye, Sir Hatt,” I said as I got off with Ma and I gave him a little wave.

“Bye, fair Lady Abby, till we meet again.” He took off his top hat, like a real gentleman and he was completely bald. His head was a shiny pink happy colour.

#

We walked from the train station to Aunty Jane’s. It was hard for Ma to walk long distances, but we didn’t have a car; we didn’t have money either, and we didn’t have a Daddy. There were lots of things we didn’t have.

The whole way Ma talked about how great Aunty Jane was. She’s a real character your Aunty Jane; you’ll see, so much fun, and it’s only for a little while. It was just like how she’d talked about the train, being like Thomas, when it wasn’t.

It’ll be just until I have the baby, Abby, she said. You understand, don’t you?

I told her I did, even though I didn’t.

#

It was six months later that I met Sir Hatt again, and it was back at the train station. This time I was travelling with Aunty Jane to meet Ma and the baby. I hadn’t seen Ma since she’d left me at Aunty Jane’s. You be a good girl, Abby; remember I love you, and I’ll be back as often as I can. Except she never did come back, not even once.

Aunty Jane held my hand. It was different than Ma’s; Aunty likes to keep her fingernails clean and painted. She even likes to paint mine and doesn’t like it when I’ve been playing in the dirt, making mud pies in her garden.

It’s funny; I was standing there looking at my polished shoes on the platform, wishing I was wearing my sneakers when I heard whistling. I looked up and there was Sir Hatt. I thought he might not recognise me, but he came over with the biggest smile.

“Well, Lady Abby. How are we today?” he asked, and he gave a little bow and took off his top hat. And there it was again, all that pink. It made me giggle.

Aunty Jane’s red lips pinched together. “Who is this?” she asked.

“This is Sir Hatt,” I said as if she should know already. “He keeps dragons in his suitcase, and he counts in the tunnels. What’s in your suitcase today?”

“Well, Lady Abby. Today I have the most wretched of creatures, something called a dragwart. It is half dragon and half frog. It never brushes its teeth and so it has the most disgusting breath. Worse, it makes an atrocious noise at night, calling out for other dragwarts at all hours of the morning, and so I’m afraid I’m going to have to release it.”

“Can I see?”

“Once again, I’m afraid not my Lady, as despite their small stature they are rather nimble creatures and at my age, they are rather a pain to capture.”

“Seriously, that’s ridiculous,” muttered my aunt disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry to have offended you, Madam, but dragwarts are real, believe me. I haven’t had a wink of sleep since this one took up residence in my home.”

My aunt wrinkled her nose.

“Where are you going to release it, Sir Hatt?” I asked, ignoring my aunt.

“Ah, well there’s a nice little river not more than five stops along from this station. There are plenty of other dragwarts there, so I thought mine would be quite happy. And, Lady Abby, if ever you find your tap doesn’t turn on, have a look to see if there’s a dragwart stuck up there; I tell you they do get themselves into some rather unusual places.”

“That’s good to know, isn’t it, Aunty?”

But Aunty Jane turned her head away.

When the train came, my Aunt seemed relieved.

“Sit with us, Sir Hatt.” 

But my Aunt said that wouldn’t be a good idea. She pulled me away to a window, where I couldn’t see him.

“You shouldn’t talk to such people, Abby,” she hissed. “He’s not right in the head. Feeding you all that nonsense.” 

“Isn’t it true?”

“Of course not.”  Then, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through all her messages. I looked out the window at all the buildings that hadn’t toppled and I thought about dragwarts and dragons and Sir Hatt’s suitcase.

#

Ma looked different when I saw her, and I don’t know why but I started crying, and she started crying too, and that made Aunty Jane cry a little, even though she said it would ruin her makeup. The baby had ginger hair, just like Daddy – it was nice to see some colour.

“Oh, Abby, I’ve missed you so much,” said Ma, and she held me tight, squeezing me, but not the bad squeeze. It was the kinda squeeze where you feel you might just become part of that person, like two leftover pieces of soap pressed together to make one.

“I missed you too, Ma.”

We got to talking and laughing even, and Aunty Jane told Ma how well I’d been doing at school and how I was such a good girl. It wasn’t quite the truth, because there had been plenty of times when she’d shut me in my room for doing something wrong, creating a mess, or sometimes because she and Uncle wanted a bit of quiet, but I didn’t tell Ma any of that.

We were having such a good time, that I didn’t quite understand when Aunty Jane said we better be getting home. 

“This is my home.”

Aunty Jane looked all uncomfortable and told me that it was just a visit, that Ma wasn’t well enough to look after the two of us yet.

“Give the baby to Aunty Jane then,” I said.

The adults gave themselves funny looks, before Ma finally spoke, “Look pet, I wish it were that simple, but the baby needs feeding and I need to rest. The earthquake, your Father….” Ma stumbled over those words. “... and the baby. I’m not yet well enough to look after you both.”

I know you’re meant to love your family, but at that moment, all I felt was hate. I took one look at Aunty with her head down, Ma with the baby suckling on her teat, and I ran. 

I remember hearing them calling my name, but I didn’t turn back. 

I only saw one colour, and it was black.

#

No one quite realises how smart children are. How we can crawl into small spaces. Under and over. Like a bear hunt. I knew Ma wasn’t going to follow, she still had the babe stuck to her breast, and Aunty Jane couldn’t move fast in heels. I went under gates, shimmying on my tummy, feeling happier the dirtier I got.

I had no idea where I was going. I was just going. 

Some people looked at me strangely, but no one asked me anything. I was just a girl out for a walk with shiny shoes and a muddy dress. I passed the park. I had good memories there. Daddy pushing me on the swing, higher, higher. Ma laughing, her cheeks a little pink back when she had no baby in her tummy. And even though I was thinking about all those happy things, I started crying.

I’m not sure why but I ended up at the river. Maybe it was because I wanted my tears to have some company, or maybe it was because I was thinking of floating some of my pain out on the water; whatever it was, I was surprised to find Sir Hatt there with an open suitcase, watching the river.

“Why Lady Abby,” he said happily as I walked up, but then his voice dropped when he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”

And I told him. Everything. About Ma, the earthquake, Daddy, the baby and Aunty Jane, and how no one really wanted me anymore. It was all like a great toppling. Like I’d had one too many Jenga blocks taken and I couldn’t keep it together anymore. My own little earthquake.

He sat with me for a long time and listened. 

When I was all done, he told me he’d lost people in the earthquake too; one of them was his wife.

“All of us got a little bit broken after the quake. Sometimes you can’t see it, because we’re not all shattered on the outside, but inside, we’ve got cracks running through us. I’d say your Ma just needs a little more time to get better. She’s probably really worried about you; what say we try and find her?”

Sir Hatt held out his hand and I took it. It felt different like he was holding onto me as much as I was holding onto him.

He closed and picked up his suitcase and I told him Ma’s address. 

“Did you release your dragwart?” I asked, remembering. 

“I sure did, Lady Abby; I sure did.”

As we walked away I swear I heard some strange croaking from the river. Not like a frog croaking, but something different, a little odd, a little strange. I was tempted to turn around, to have a look, but I didn’t want to break the magic. 

“Look, a rainbow,” said Sir Hatt as we came up from the river.

And even though Daddy was gone, and Ma had cracks, it reminded me there was still magic and colour in the world; you just had to know where to find it.

THE END