The Cat got the Rat and other Mercy Lies

So much pain, so much hurt, but none for her anymore. It started with a breath, not as many as there should’ve been, and ended with a hiss. Family all around. My finger in her hand. Cold to touch. No more warmth there anymore. Once that was all there was. Hearts give life, and take life away. Those hearts left behind break a little more. So sudden, but should we have seen it coming? Who could? They thought she’d start with death, be dead within a month, then a year. They said she shouldn’t live at all. It’d be a mercy. In the end, she took more than 29 years of what they said she wouldn’t have. But she deserved many more.

‘Can we go home?’

‘Of course we can, sweetheart. You just need to get a little better, that’s all.’

Mercy.

‘Can I have some water?’

‘The nurse is just coming to get you some.’

Lie.

‘Can I have some cereal?’

‘Of course, sweetheart, in a minute. You’re doing so well. We’re all proud of you.’

Nothing else you can say. We know the end is coming. We can’t tell you that. Mercy. As if mercy exists.

‘Siobhan, the Siamese caught the rat!’

‘Good.’

‘No more rats in the garden now. All gone.’

A lie. But she heard, and she believed. And if she believed, why can’t it be true? In her universe, the cat got the rat. That’s good enough for me.

*     *     *

Dedicated to my sister, Siobhan Mary Garnett, who passed away on the 23rd June, 2015. She wasn't given a fair chance at life, but lived a better one than most I know. I'll miss her forever.

Sleep well, Siobhan xxx

Sir Terry the Locksmith

I remember thinking when I was younger that “this book changed my life!” was a silly thing to say. How can a set of words arranged in a certain way have such an effect? How suggestible are some people that they can be swayed so easily into a different mind-set? They’re just words, aren’t they?

I was so wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

For those of us who read and spend so much time inside our heads, books can be keys that open doors on our journey through an endless maze. Some of these doors hide empty cupboards, others have dead-ends, and some hold terrifying thoughts we never knew we could contemplate. Sometimes we open a door that leads us into a realm so vast and unbelievable and interesting and magical that even if we wanted to we could never go back, for there’s far too much in front of us to see. It makes us realise that our quest for understanding can never be complete, which is a wonderful thing. We can learn for eternity.

I have Sir Terry Pratchett, and rain, to thank for giving me my key. As a kid, I was outdoorsy. Sure, I’d read a few books: The Hobbit; The Incredible Journey; those choose-your-own adventure stories. But they were something to be read on journeys or in school when I couldn’t be outside kicking a ball or on my bike. One endless Sunday afternoon, aged ten, when my brother had the computer, my sister had the television, and rain had the outdoors, I took a book from my brother’s bookshelf, one with wonderfully bonkers illustrations on its cover that depicted a man in a nightgown wearing a floppy hat being chased by horn-helmeted warriors and a box with hundreds of legs. That book was “Interesting Times.” To this day, I think it’s the only book I’ve ever read in one sitting. After an hour of reading, I wasn’t really on my bed in a small town in north-west England with rain pelting the windows anymore; I was in another universe among wonderful and scary people, surrounded by impossible scenery that I could touch and smell. And believe. Terry Pratchett made me believe the unbelievable. I can’t think of anything better a writer could hope for.

Yesterday, I shed tears for a man who I never met, yet felt I knew like a favourite uncle. Today, I’m happy that I knew him at all. As he said, no one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world fade away. And he made ripples to rattle the cosmos. By reading his works, we will keep making splashes.

I can’t wait until my niece is old enough to read. I know that one day she will find a locked door, and will wonder what is behind it. And I will hand her a key…