A Million Tears by Paul Henke

have to stay in bed for a while, my boy. And I mean in bed. You must keep warm. Even though you’ve got a temperature and feel too hot, never mind, you keep those blankets around you. All right?’
    I gave another harsh cough by way of answer, this time catching the phlegm in my hand. Mam stepped forward and wiped it away.
    ‘Your Mam will give you a hot water bottle to keep on your chest to help the pain. And stay propped up on your pillows; it’ll help your breathing and your chest, look you. Now you go back to sleep while I have a talk with your parents.’
    I sighed and closed my eyes.
    I am unsure how long I was ill. I do remember whenever I awoke Mam or one of my aunts was there. I remembered being given sweet drinks almost continuously. I had periods of delirium and periods of clarity. My temperature dropped and I started eating. No one needed to tell me I was getting over a bout of pneumonia. The doctor visited regularly though I was not always fully aware of him.
    During that time thoughts of Sian and the nightmare of the school kept returning. Sometimes I believed it had not happened, at other times I knew it was all too real.
     
    It was the day after the funeral. I was upset because I had not been able to attend. When I awoke I found Aunt Nancy with me. She was one of my favourite aunts, Uncle William’s wife. Da and Uncle William probably got on better with each other than they did with their other brothers, and so inevitably Mam and Aunt Nancy did too. She had two sons, both older than me, one working in the mine, the other on the railway. Between them, with the wages they took home, they lived well compared to other families. Whenever we called there was a glass of home-made lemonade and biscuits for us.
    She smiled. ‘Take some of this,’ she held out a cup of her lemonade. ‘How do you feel?’
    ‘Not so bad. At least the pain in my chest isn’t as bad as it was.’ I coughed, but this time it was not a harsh dry cough, nor was there any phlegm.
    ‘Good boy. The doctor says your temperature is nearly normal and after a few weeks rest you should be all right. You didn’t half give us a scare, I can tell you. Though the doctor said you weren’t as ill as some he’s seen. Still boy, it’s nice to have you on the road to recovery. It’ll be a load off your Mam’s mind.’
    ‘How is she? I’m real sorry see, if I’ve upset her, especially after . . . after Sian.’
    ‘Now don’t you fret none. She’ll be fine in a little while, as soon as she gets over the funeral like. That was yesterday,’ she added.
    I nodded miserably. I felt the tears welling in my eyes.
    ‘Hush now Dai,’ she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking my forehead. ‘Don’t upset yourself. The Good Lord giveth and the Good Lord taketh away. Sian is probably up there in heaven looking down on you right now, telling you not to cry. So don’t take on so, there’s a good boy. She had a lovely funeral, they all did. They all went to their Maker knowing how much we all loved them.’
    I nodded, clinging to her words for comfort but not believing them. ‘Why did God take her away then? She was a good girl, never did anybody any harm . . . at least nothing serious, only childish games. Why take her from us?’
    ‘I don’t know Dai and I suppose nobody really knows though all the vicars and preachers have some reason for it. Perhaps God looked down and saw what a lovely girl she was and wanted her in heaven with him.’
    As she paused I leaped in: ‘But we wanted her down here with us, as did all the other families. The Bible says if we’re good we’ll go to heaven forever and ever – that’s a long time. So why couldn’t the children stay with us until it was time to die? . . . Like in old age.’
    ‘I don’t really know,’ she had the honesty to admit. ‘It does say in the Bible that our God is a selfish God and it says, “Suffer the little children to come unto me”. Perhaps that had something to do