Pond People

Andre was intrigued by the neat bed of plant debris that lined the gravel under the minnows.

To Flash’s amusement, the boy had set up tests to discover how intelligent the fish were. He devised different barriers to the brine shrimps to see if the fish could get into them. He sat for ages, watching, which wasn’t so amusing. The attention worried Molly and annoyed Flash, who couldn’t swim when he wanted.

Eddy was itching to solve all the puzzles when Andre was in bed, but Molly forbade him to touch them. Molly’s prohibition was enough to tempt Flash to move them all, but that would have led to even more human attention. Instead, he and Eddy annoyed Molly with suggestions about how they could confuse Andre, until Flo told them to stop sneering. Andre meant well.

Flash didn’t want to upset Flo. She always listened to him and sometimes even asked his advice. Instead of worrying about everyone else, she should take more care of herself – although he wouldn’t have minded if she worried about him occasionally.

Sometimes, when he swam down, he would see her gazing out through the glass, eyes fixed, brow creased in concentration, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

At supper one day, she asked them, ‘If Andre did see us – properly, not when we’re pretending to be fish – d-do you think he would help us? If we asked him.’

After a stunned silence, Flash asked, ‘How?’

Flo’s shoulders drooped. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I keep trying, but his mind doesn’t hear me.’

Grandad was gentle. ‘If they knew about us, they might want to keep us here and watch us.’

Sylva nodded. ‘Like Beth with her fairground fish.’

That closed the discussion. Even Flash wasn’t desperate enough to risk becoming an exhibit in someone’s water zoo.

By the time the children broke up from school again, Andre had given up his experiments.

Flash’s relief at this may have been the first time he agreed with Molly about anything.

They were equally relieved when the family didn’t go away at half term. And, again, when the family spent the Easter holidays at home. Weeks passed without incident.

Flash had resumed his night-time breathing exercises. Each night he also added a little more to his new length of cord that he was planning to loop around one of those drawer handles to support him to the floor. The cord was becoming heavy. How much more would he need to reach the floor?

His escape bid would have to be at night, but he was sure he could get under the closed door. When the door had been open, he’d seen a brush-like strip on the bottom to keep out draughts. There must be a gap under the door, or there would be no draught. The bristles looked like dried grass, and he could easily push his way through grass.

At night, the others would be asleep, which would avoid awkward questions.

Much as he wished he could take Eddy with him, he doubted his friend could make it as far as the floor, and there would still be the run to Mojo’s water bowl.

Eddy would be heartbroken at being left behind.

But Flo would be heartbroken if Eddy disappeared overnight, not knowing what had happened or where they were.

Through the summer term, the children had tests or exams and outside the tank, tempers rose with the temperatures.

And then they were breaking up for the summer holidays.

Tempers cooled, but not the temperatures. Flash listened in to the family’s breakfast conversation.

‘Whew, it’s hot, Dad! Can we have money to go swimming?’

Father grunted. ‘Naturally, the year we book to go abroad is the year Britain has a heatwave.’

‘The newspaper says it was hotter here yesterday than on Costa Del Sol,’ said Mother.

Father pushed his empty plate away. ‘I could have saved our money!’

Mother picked up his plate. ‘It’s sure to rain while we’re away,’ she said. ‘It always rains on Bank Holidays.’

The water in the fish tank was warm as well. Flash recalled the pond’s cool pockets in the deeps and among the waterfall’s bubbles. Even in the hottest weather the pond would cool at night, but no evening breeze rippled the tank’s surface.

Warm water held less oxygen.

Fish became more active at higher temperatures as their metabolism sped up.

Racing around like children at Beth’s birthday party, they ate more and left more mess behind them. With the children home from school, Mother sometimes lost track of how long it was since she last cleaned the gravel.

The water was getting harder to breathe. If he was leaving, it would have to be soon while he was fit enough to make the distance.

When Father brought home a new fish that died on its second day, Flash heard Mother point out they already had too many fish for the size of the tank. Neither suggested they buy a bigger one.

The children rarely paused to look in now. The fish had become as familiar as the wallpaper.

The pump stopped working, and Molly thought, here we go again. But this time Mother spotted it straight away.

‘Henry, can you look at the aquarium pump? It’s vibrating, but there are no bubbles.’

It took Father most of the day to get the pump working properly. Mother kept out of the way until he’d fixed it.

‘What was wrong with it?’

‘Hanged if I know. Maybe there was a blockage. It seems OK now.’

‘The gravel’s due for a clean-out but it’s getting late now. I’ll do it tomorrow.’

When tomorrow came, a fantail was floating on the surface.

It floated into the drifting plant, so Mother didn’t see it when she came to feed the fish.

Flipper from the pond was struggling to keep himself upright, and the darting cloud of minnows seemed smaller. Two of them were skulking under the bridge when Molly went to find Flo.

Flo seemed jittery, as she poured out her concerns. ‘Eddy’s restless but he’s g-getting out of breath very quickly. Walt says Amber can’t stand up without losing her balance, and Grandad isn’t t-trying to stand. He doesn’t want to worry me, but he l-looks exhausted. They haven’t had time to get their strength back before the pump’s dying again.’

At the back of the tank, tiny bubbles had again slowed to a sad trickle. Sylva swam over.

‘Can you come? Walter’s in a state. Amber’s gasping and he’s convinced she’s dying.’ She turned and hurried back ahead of them.

‘I don’t know what they think w-we can do,’ confided Flo as they followed.

‘Don’t worry,’ replied Molly. ‘Walt always thinks Amber’s dying.’

But this time Walt wasn’t exaggerating.

Fish fed on the rotting fantail.

When the family went to bed Flash swam up to dislodge it from the plant that held it. For the rest of that night, Molly listened to him coughing as he tried to clear the foul water from his gills. By morning, the former dodger-fish was also floating on the surface.

‘Mum, two of the fish are dead. The p-pump’s stopped working again.’

‘Can you fish them out, Andre? I’ll come in a minute.’

‘What should I do with them? I’m sure there used to be more minnows too.’

Mother came to see for herself.

‘Henry! The pump’s stopped again. Fish are dying.’

Father appeared, muttering something Molly couldn’t hear.

Andre said, ‘The other fantails don’t look right either. How come that fish from the fairground’s still swimming around?’

He didn’t wait around in the kitchen for an answer.

Father sighed. ‘I’ll get my tools.’

Mother said, ‘What if it packs up again while we’re away?’

When Father returned with his toolbox she said, ‘Why don’t we put them all in the pond?’

Hope flipped in Molly’s chest. Flash was listening nearby, and their eyes met.

Father grunted. ‘All the money I’ve spent on this fish tank,’ he muttered, as he unhooked the pump and pulled out the tubing.

He took it all to the table. Mother brought him a mug of coffee.

Bethany came through on her way to the garden ’My friend Keisha loves our fish tank. She asked her mummy if she can have one just like it.’

‘Well she’s welcome to this one if she wants it,’ said Mother, but Beth had gone.