The Night Rainbow A Novel

CHAPTER 23




Blood is pouring from my forehead like rain. It falls into my mouth, sticky and surprising. Maman is running towards me. Her face has opened so wide it looks as though the sunlight is coming right out of her. Her eyes are saying, Sorry, sorry, sorry, and she is still screaming my name. Beside me, Claude is shouting Oh! Oh! Oh! The noises swirl together and behind my eyes it bangs.

Maman’s arms are stretched forward as though she is trying to catch me. I open my mouth to say something, but my breath is sucked out of me like a slamming door. Margot lets go of my hand and I feel myself fall away from her, backwards on to the path.



I am caught by gentle hands. There is a lot of quiet. I am in a beautiful white place, it is smiling at me. The air is happy and cool. I’m so comfy, maybe I am on a cloud, or tucked in under a cloud. It’s hard to say. It doesn’t really matter. I feel dozy and light and that is good enough.



Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

I don’t want to wake up.

Peony, you have to wake up. Peony, open your eyes. Come back to me, Pea.

Maman is walking in the whiteness; she is calling for me.

It would be nice to walk with Maman. Or not.

Peony, look at me. Peony, don’t leave me!



The whiteness is colouring in, I can feel my body wrapped in body. Am I somehow back in Maman’s belly? I reach out but there is no baby here, just softness. My head is aching, my mouth tastes sour. I pull back, I want the happy place again.

Peony! Peony! Peony!

It is Maman. I am laid against her by the gate to the meadow. She is curled around me, her hand pressed against my forehead. She is holding a rag against me that smells like Claude. It is hot and wet. I feel dizzy.

Stay here, stay here, Pea, she whispers. They’re coming to get us, it won’t be long.

Witches? I say. Do we have to run?

Not witches, Pea. Help. Help is coming. Hold on, baby.



We are in the sun on the road. Sitting like we are having a picnic. Maman has her arms around me. I still feel like I am being sucked back inside her. I’m thirsty. A car stops by my feet. The wheels are silver stars.



We are in a car with the windows open. I am leaning against Maman. Her dress is red with my blood. She will be cross. Everything smudges together, washing in and out like the sea. I close my eyes to make it stop.



We are away from the village, passing big buildings all blurry through the windows. Claude is driving. He has no shirt on. His face is a grey mountain and his tears are the streams.



Papa is carrying me against his hairy chest. He smells salty like Windy Hill. His big arms are around my back and under my legs and his big rough hand is holding my head. Hold on, Pea, he whispers and his breath is a warm breeze. There are voices all around, and far away. Shouting.

I love you, Papa, I say, but he does not reply.