Family Seven 1957
Alan is a grown-up. He goes to work, and when sitting on the sofa with his girl-friend, often makes us leave the room so he can lie on top of her. We’ve seen him do it. He has two orange fingers on his right hand which Jack says comes from permanently holding a cigarette. He smells stale.
Unwittingly, it is he who teaches me the dangers of electricity when I come down one day to find him rummaging through the drawers in the half-light.
– Ah, just in time, he says, withdrawing a light bulb from the mess of papers in a drawer.
– The bulb’s gone, he says, sticking it to his forehead and doing a funny dance in front of me with his eyes crossed. He’s like that.
– Now, he says, pulling one of the dining chairs into the middle of the room: you stand by the switch.
He comes over to verify it is up.
– You have to keep this up until I say so. Got that?
I nod.
– And if anyone comes in you must stop them from putting it down.
Right. I close the door, stand by the switch.
Suddenly Jack’s feet clatter down the stairs and I am half flung across the room as he bursts in.
– Don’t touch that switch, yells Alan, balanced on the chair.
Jack freezes. I get up from the floor, a bruise in my back from the door handle.
– What’s going on? Jack asks.
– The bulb’s gone, I put in knowingly.
– Oh, plopping into an armchair.
– Right, let’s have another go, says Alan.
I go back to the door. I am a bit shaken by Jack’s entrance, there could have been an accident.
#
Alan comes over again to double check that the switch is up. The full weight of my responsibility settles silently onto my shoulders. It is just me standing between Alan and Death. It is vitally important to guard that switch. It is a bit of a way up the wall but, so as to be extra safe, I reach up to cup the switch with my hand so that no-one can pull it down by mistake.
– Are you all right down there? Alan calls from his high perch and I answer with a strangled
– Yes.
He puts the spare bulb between his knees and reaches up to grab the bakelite bulb holder with just the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. With his right he goes to grip the dud bulb. To retain the replacement between his knees he has to keep his knees a little bent and reaching up with both hands forces him up onto his toes. He wobbles.
– Whoa there, me hearty, he says, steadying himself.
Standing on tippy toes with bent knees makes his bum stick out, he looks like a chicken about to lay an egg. The right hand finally cups the spherical end, pushes up, twists and the bulb is separated from the holder. He casts about for somewhere to put it or he will not be able to extract the good bulb from between his knees to install it.
– Jack, off your arse, he says. Take this.
Jack jumps up, taking the bulb from the proffered hand as Alan keeps his eyes on the holder. He retrieves the new bulb from between his knees, cautiously inserting it into the socket. I am so relieved to see that it does not go on that I make an involuntary movement. And the switch flicks down.
#
The room disappears in a blinding flash of light.
I hug myself as Alan leaps off the chair, putting his full weight on Jack’s toe.
– What the fuck? the fuck? he goes in amazement, uncertain if he is still alive.
– You great fat arse, screams Billy desperately hopping round on one foot, holding his toes, aiming to thrash his brother with his free hand.
Alan rounds on me, the new bulb glued to his hand.
– Was that you? Was that you, you stupid fucker?
He swipes me with his free hand halfway across the room.
– You could have killed me, he says with despair in his voice.
I am screwed up very small, hiccuping as I cry.
#
A heartbeat.
– Stupid kid, he says, lighter this time.
Back at the door, in business fashion, he flicks the switch up, down, up, double checking.
– Come on, he says, and hauls me up, unfolding me like a rusty picnic table.
– Sit still over there.
– Sorry Bro, and tousles the hair on the snuffling Jack who is back in the armchair nursing one foot.
Calm descends on the darkened room. The light is fading. Somehow we are breathing in unison as Death leaves by the crack in the window. Alan rights the fallen chair, climbs, inserts the bulb with a twist and is at the door. He looks at us before pulling the switch down. The light is welcome but incredibly painful to the eyes.