A Threefold Cord. Howard Goldenberg

Vandersluys! Dr Vandersluys!”

      Nystagmus, hiding in the toilet, heard the voice of the small boy from the garden. He knew the boy must have recognised him. The boy would be telling the vet that he – Nystagmus – was the cat thief. He locked the door. Then he hid behind the door in case someone broke the lock and entered. Finally, he thought: They can’t get in, but if I try to leave they’ll catch me. I’m trapped in here.

      Nystagmus looked around him. There wasn’t much to see, just the toilet bowl, the sink, Papou’s magazines in Greek. I wonder: can I hide in the toilet bowl – under the seat? He lifted the seat and looked. Nope – too small, too wet, too … too toilettish!

      Nystagmus started to sweat. There was nowhere to hide. He looked around again. Nothing. He looked up: the window!

      Nystagmus stood on the toilet seat and reached up. The window was too high. He looked down: the magazines! That might work.

      Papou kept a whole heap of magazines that his brother sent him from Limmasol. Papou said the magazines were full of news about the economy and business in Cyprus. Nystagmus couldn’t read Greek. Whenever he opened the magazines he saw pictures of ladies with their shirts off. They were interesting. Once Nystagmus asked Papou why the ladies didn’t have shirts: “Are they too poor?”

      “Maybe, Nystagmus. But sometimes in Cyprus it’s just too hot for a shirt.”

      This morning Nystagmus didn’t have time for stories about business or for pictures of ladies. He had to save his life and the magazines were his best hope.

      Papou received a new magazine every month. He had seven years of magazines. Quickly Nystagmus piled all 84 magazines on top of the toilet seat. Luckily for him, a pile of 84 business magazines made him tall enough to reach the window easily.

      Nystagmus pushed the window. It hadn’t opened for years and the hinge was rusty. He pushed with his right hand that was strong from onion work. The window moved a little, then some more, making a metallic groan. Nystagmus hoped they couldn’t hear in the front of the shop.

      Now the window was fully open. Nystagmus pulled himself up, up, until his head and shoulders were free. A fresh onion-free breeze blew in his face. One more hard long pull and Nystagmus was crouching on the sill, looking at the long jump to the ground behind the shop. He didn’t stop to think. He jumped, he landed and he ran.

      As he ran, Nystagmus thought some thoughts.

      Why am I running away?

       I don’t need to be scared – they’ve got their cat back.

       And that giant in black – she ... or he – is the one who needs to be scared, scared of the police, scared someone will find out whatever secrets she or he is hiding.

      But even as he thought these unscared thoughts, Nystagmus ran a long way through back streets and alleys, turning corner after corner, turning right three times, until he had run a loop and he found himself in the park across the street from Yaya and Papou’s shop. He hid behind a tree and watched and waited. Customers came and went. Nystagmus watched people as they left, looking always for a little kid and a tall adult.

      The long day tired itself out. The after-work fish and chip eaters came, bought and left, cradling hot paper bags and licking their smiles.

      The sun began to set and Nystagmus knew it was closing time. He watched and he saw Papou open the front door and turn around the sign that said:

       OPEN

      to

       Sorry we are CLOSED.

       Come tomorrow again – we opening at 8.00.

      It was safe now to return. It was safe to climb up and into the locked toilet from the outside and to unlock the door.

      As he crossed the road, Nystagmus felt the beautiful rays of the setting sun on his face. Dazzled, he could not see. Sunset! Nystagmus had an inspiration.