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- Herausgeber: Atlantic Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Atlantic Short Stories
- Sprache: Englisch
From the Miles Franklin longlisted author of Flames, is a short story that will have you on the edge of your seat, screaming 'wake up'. ___________________ The mum and the dad are in bed but the boy is standing in the hallway. He's been sleepwalking again. The boy wakes up in the middle of the night to find a man in his hallway. But this is no regular man. No, he's a hall chimp. The man jumps around like a chimp, scratched his armpits like a chimp, rolls around on the floor like a chimp. The boy wants to play too...
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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Atlantic Short Stories
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Published in Great Britain in 2019 by Atlantic Books, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.
Copyright © Robbie Arnott, 2019
The moral right of Robbie Arnott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to trace or contact all copyright holders. The publishers will be pleased to make good any omissions or rectify any mistakes brought to their attention at the earliest opportunity.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
E-book ISBN: 978 18389 50545
Atlantic Books
An imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd
Ormond House
26–27 Boswell Street
London
WC1N 3JZ
www.atlantic-books.co.uk
The Hall Chimp
By Robbie Arnott
The mum and the dad are in bed, but the boy is standing in the hallway. He’s been sleepwalking again, and he has woken up here at the bottom of the stairs, not far from the photo-crowded hall table. His fuzzy little mind is rugged by confusion. He sleepwalks often, and usually he wakes up in his parents’ bedroom, mumbling at the foot of their bed, or in the bathroom with urine sneaking into the gaps between his pale toes. But this is the first time he has woken up in the hallway. He wobbles on his feet and thinks about going back to bed. He knows he should, but the mum and the dad aren’t there to guide him with their big warm hands, and it’s dark, and he’s disorientated, and half-dreaming, and someone is opening the front door.
Is this part of the dream? The boy rubs at his eyes and decides no, this is not a dream, because the handle has twisted south and the door is being pushed inwards. When it’s halfway opened a man carrying a large rectangular container comes inside and closes it behind him. The boy feels his pulse wake up. Panic zips through him. A bright white fear fills the space inside his head, and he sucks air into his lungs and gets ready to scream. Then the man turns around and sees the boy, just as the boy is about to release his cry, and before the sound bursts from the boy’s lungs the man makes a funny face: cheeks inflated, eyes pulled wide, nose yanked upwards into a snout. He looks like a silly pig. The boy pauses, confused. The man puts down his container and changes his face, making spectacles with his fingers and poking his tongue out. This new face turns boy’s pause into a giggle. Then the man crouches down and impersonates a chimpanzee: scratching his armpit, rolling on the ground, blowing a raspberry and making chimp sounds. Now the boy is chuckling — who is this man? He’s so funny! He’s just like a chimp!
The man-chimp walks over to the boy and points behind his ear, beckoning the boy to scratch him there. The boy does, digging his uncut nails into the messy, oily hair, and the man makes a satisfied, chimp-like aaaah. The boy giggles again. Now the man sits down in front of him, legs crossed, and says Hello. My name is Brett. What’s yours? He holds out a large hand, which the boy takes, because the dad has always told him to shake hands, that shaking hands is important.
I’m Nathan, says the boy, and they swing hands in a solemn, over-serious way.
What are you doing out of bed, Nathan?
The boy shrugs. I think I was sleepwalking. The man smacks a palm into his forehead and turns his mouth into a wide O, as if sleepwalking is the most outrageous thing a boy could possibly do, then shakes and wriggles his head from side to side in a blurry whir of lips and jowls and funny sounds. Again the boy giggles, and this giggling carries him down to the carpet, where he rolls with delight as the man rises on his long bendy legs and starts fondling the pictures on the hall table.
Is this your Mum? He picks up a large gold frame and holds it down to the boy’s face. It contains a photo of the boy and the mum playing on a seesaw at the park. The mum is smiling at the camera as her end grazes woodchips; at the other end the boy flails his arms in the higher air.
Yes, says the boy, that’s me and mum.
The man raises the frame to his eye level. Aren’t you a lucky boy? Then he starts picking up the other photos, asking the boy more questions as he studies each one.
Does your mum love you?
Yes.
Is she nice?
She’s the nicest there is.
Does she love your Dad?
Yes!
A lot?
Lots and lots.
That’s nice.
The man holds on to the last photo longer than he’s held the other ones — it’s a small picture of the Mum when she was younger, wearing a thin blue dress as she walks down a grey beach. The man slips this frame into his pocket, and the boy says That’s not yours.
The man crouches back down in front of him and says I know. But it’s okay, I promise. I’m a friend of your mum’s.
The boy frowns. Really?
The man nods. Yep! We’ve been friends for a long time. Hasn’t she ever told you about me? The boy shakes his head, which makes the man smile, but it’s a weird smile that confuses the boy. He yawns and remembers he’s meant to be in bed. It’s so late. He’s not allowed up this late.
The man is silly and funny but the boy decides he wants to see his mum and dad now. He turns around and starts walking up the stairs, but when he hears the man’s voice he stops.
Hey Nathan, where are you going?
To see mum and dad.
Aren’t they asleep?
Yes.
Won’t you wake them up?
Yes, but I want them.
Don’t you want to play a game?
The boy, now on the fourth stair, turns. What game?
