Fishes of gold

Mathew Barry Jenkins was a mischief-maker and a chatterbox, and everyone loved him because of it.  He could be found hiding under tables, or falling out of trees with an unthinkable amount of mud and grass all over himself.  He had trouble written all over his forehead, with a capital “T” but his contagious laugh and infectious giggle allowed him away with oodles of crimes.  No matter what the misdemeanor, he always came out smiling.

Donna Jenkins was his first cousin, with only three weeks between their birthdays, but even though they were in the very same nursery school class together, they did not know that they were related.  This was due to the fact that their mothers didn’t speak anymore, not after the incident at the beach.  The children didn’t like the same activities in the nursery school, Donna liked colouring and solving puzzles, the singing corner and collecting leaves.  While Matthew Barry Jenkins liked the blue slide, and kite-flying and practising his star jumps, so their paths never crossed; and they didn’t even realise that they shared the same grandmother.

It was easy, for others to see the family resemblance.  Both children shared the same dark and deeply set eyes, and both could scowl sincerely.  They shared the same mannerism of taking a short step backwards, if they felt concerned or unhappy, or even if they felt they weren’t going to enjoy the outcome of a decision.  They didn’t know that their mothers, who were sisters, performed this ritual.

They sometimes wore the same clothes to nursery, not grasping that the same grandmother had gifted them brown corduroy dungarees, imitation velvet jackets with tiny hoods, and socks with cartoon characters on them.

Meticulous arrangements for pick-up time were observed by all the staff, with Donna’s collection taking place exactly 15 minutes before Matthew Barry Jenkins was taken home.  Everyone was complicit, but especially Miss Price, who took Donna outside to wait.  It never occurred to Donna to ask why this was happening, and the plan appeared to be fool-proof.

One autumn day in 1976, Donna wanted to play with the knitted teddy bear, which was kept in the wooden cupboard, with the fish tank on top.  None of the other toys suited her needs, and she wanted the teddy that was soft and comforting.  The only problem was that the cupboard was locked, and while she asked other children to help her, no one seemed interested.  She had seen Miss Price open the doors many times, and there seemed to be a simple knack.  You kicked the right hand side door gently, at the same time that you pulled on both of the door handles.  Simple.  One, two, three – you push and pull together.

So while she canvassed other children, to come over and to help, only Matthew Barry Jenkins could be persuaded to get involved.  He was filthy from being in the leaves all afternoon, even his lips and the lobes of his ears were sprinkled with dirt, and he smelled like outside.

“I’ll help you get inside the cupboard” he offered.

“Thank you” said Donna, and she took a step backwards.

He began gently, with a number of different angles, but the lack of success was tiring.

“You’ll need to kick the door” advised Donna quietly, “it’s easy.  One, two, three – you push and pull together”.

So Matthew Barry Jenkins kicked and pulled, and found an angle which unleashed the lock, but the pressure was too much, and the cupboard began to wobble.  It balanced itself momentarily, but not before losing control of the tank on top.  And the fish began to fall.

Down fell the water and down fell the fish.

And the gravel from the tank and all the intricate fish decorations slowly filtered to the ground.  Water was dripping, and flooding all over Donna and the carpet beneath her, all over the nursery school floor.

Miss Price was furious, and shouted at Donna “what have you done, you naughty little girl, you killed them all”.  She bent down and tried to pick-up all the flopping fish. All Donna could do was stand in the damp, wet carpet, watching them all die.  At the very same time, Matthew Barry Jenkins, dry as a bone, slipped away quietly from the scene of the crime.

Later, after Donna was changed into dry clothes and allowed to sit on the big leather chair, she thought she saw Matthew Barry Jenkins peeping through the door to the main room, and he looked so sad.  Donna scowled at him, and stroked the knitted teddy bear, and just waited for her mother to come.