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The London Magazine| August/September 2022 Over the years he had slowly downgraded his ask from a dog to a rabbit before eventually getting his way via a goldfish that hadn’t managed to see out a month. He’d hoped his mother could at least tell him about the neighbour’s pets as compensation. But it was not to be. I’ve told you a hundred times, Colm, it doesn’t work with animals… I can see people and photos of people and paintings of people and even ornaments that are shaped like people… but there is nothing bloody doing when it comes to animals. Colm thinks of this, of her, as the train begins to slow. He turns her over like a dry leaf. With every twist and every inspection, he risks a break, a crack in the margins, in his outline of her. She is three weeks gone and things are getting brittle already. Colm lets the window of the train vibrate against his skull. If he gets the distance right it hurts just enough to distract him from the day ahead. His plan for the day is to be useful. When he doesn’t know what to do, he will have a look around and ask himself what might be useful. That’s his plan. Stack a chair, clear a plate. Be useful. He’s been doing it for weeks, keeping busy to block her out. If he keeps busy it quiets her. Stops her breaking in. He has found that if he is still for too long, he starts to hear her. She is always almost laughing. Too much, that. Too much for now. ah, and you might ask Colm, what if I see a picture of a person WITH an animal…? well, you can use your brain on this one. In that case, I just see an empty space where the animal is supposed to be and then take my best guess… I’ve got pretty good at it, if the person is floating then it’s usually a horse, and if there is a lead or a collar then things get simpler still. 10
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Keiran Goddard| A Season for Every Activity Colm steps off the train and into the flow of the city, into the shuffling and the sighing and the speed. Past stops for buses he will never catch again, past a remembrance garden for a war he knows nothing about. There are three old lads on the bench near its entrance, relaying a bottle between them, all of them in hats but only two of them in shoes. Colm wonders if they fought in the war he knows nothing about. One of them nods to Colm as he passes. Colm thinks it must have been his mourning suit that drew his eye. Old lads know how to mourn. Colm has a few hours to kill before the funeral officially starts, but wants to make sure the church is still where he remembers it. He can’t risk being late. He has got less confident with the city over the years, fewer reasons to return, and more changes every time. Not yet forty but already starting to feel like things are moving too fast for him to keep up. The buildings in the centre all seem to be made of that blue-green glass now, like those expensive bottles of coke that people always say taste better. Colm had never been able to tell the difference. And he preferred cans anyway, they always seemed colder. Colm thinks he never used to be nervous like this. As though his factory settings were wrong, as though he is always a beat behind. He is sure he used to move through this city quick and light and easy. The way insects move through rain, all instinct, never letting a drop hit their wings or slow them down. that’s the thing about the rain, Colm, it’s just the clouds giving up and falling apart for a few minutes… no need to let it get you down, son, clouds need their rest too. The church is right where Colm remembers it, looking smaller now against the office blocks, but otherwise just like the picture he had been holding in his head all these years. There are a few foil balloons floating 11

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The London Magazine| August/September 2022

Over the years he had slowly downgraded his ask from a dog to a rabbit before eventually getting his way via a goldfish that hadn’t managed to see out a month. He’d hoped his mother could at least tell him about the neighbour’s pets as compensation. But it was not to be.

I’ve told you a hundred times, Colm, it doesn’t work with animals…

I can see people and photos of people and paintings of people and even ornaments that are shaped like people…

but there is nothing bloody doing when it comes to animals.

Colm thinks of this, of her, as the train begins to slow. He turns her over like a dry leaf. With every twist and every inspection, he risks a break, a crack in the margins, in his outline of her. She is three weeks gone and things are getting brittle already.

Colm lets the window of the train vibrate against his skull. If he gets the distance right it hurts just enough to distract him from the day ahead. His plan for the day is to be useful. When he doesn’t know what to do, he will have a look around and ask himself what might be useful. That’s his plan. Stack a chair, clear a plate. Be useful.

He’s been doing it for weeks, keeping busy to block her out. If he keeps busy it quiets her. Stops her breaking in. He has found that if he is still for too long, he starts to hear her. She is always almost laughing. Too much, that. Too much for now.

ah, and you might ask Colm, what if I see a picture of a person WITH an animal…?

well, you can use your brain on this one. In that case, I just see an empty space where the animal is supposed to be and then take my best guess…

I’ve got pretty good at it, if the person is floating then it’s usually a horse, and if there is a lead or a collar then things get simpler still.

10

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