Back Through the Same Opening

Ilyas kept his hand inside the octopus. Its tentacles hung over the edge of the puppet theatre. One brushed Mila’s shoulder as she came behind the curtain.

‘It’s caught here,’ she said.

The loop on its head was made of thin metal. Ilyas used it to hang the puppet up when he wasn’t using it. Now it went right through a silver thread.

Grandma came to stand beside her.

‘Nobody move for a moment.’

Ilyas rested his arm on the wooden box. The ceiling lights came on in the hall. The dark hollow in the cloth stayed dark. Mila had hoped it was only the puppet’s shadow.

Aron put the newspaper in the scenery box. One of the children peered round the curtain.

‘Is it broken?’

‘We’re going to untangle it,’ said Grandma.

‘The octopus?’

‘That too.’

Ilyas asked Aron to clear the table in the side room. The child’s father called him back. Someone thanked them for the show. Ilyas answered in his ordinary voice, which sounded strange with the purple head still perched on his hand.

Mila held the cloth up while he carefully climbed out of the puppet theatre. Grandma took the other edge. Together, they went through the doorway. The fabric mustn’t catch on anything. Mila watched the door handle, the corner of the box, a little peg sticking out of the wall. She hadn’t noticed any of them on the way in.

Mandarin peel and a glass of water stood on the table. Aron moved everything to the windowsill and brushed away the crumbs. They laid the puppet on its side, the shining cloth beside it.

The tangle pulled a small hollow into the weave. When Mila moved her head, she could see beneath the outermost thread. There was another loop. And another.

‘It’s wound round three times,’ she said.

‘That last bow.’ Ilyas slipped his hand out of the puppet. ‘I felt it catch and carried on down. Tell me what you need me to hold.’

Grandma opened her bag. From a small needle case, she took a blunt darning needle. A red thread ran through its eye. She pulled it out and wound it round the case.

Mila took the needle.

‘You can have a look first,’ said Grandma.

‘I can see it.’

She slipped the point under the top loop. The thread was smoother than it looked. She tried to lift it over the metal, but as the needle rose, the loop slid back.

The hollow grew wider.

Mila held her hand still. The needle rested at an angle against the shining metal. Perhaps one more little push would do it.

‘Put it down a moment,’ said Grandma.

Mila did. A pale line of light lingered on her forefinger. When she turned her hand over, it vanished.

Out in the corridor, someone was stacking chairs on a trolley. Its wheels bumped over the threshold. Aron went to the door and slid a wooden wedge underneath so nobody could push it into the table.

‘Shall I move the tentacles?’ he asked.

‘The ones on this side.’ Mila pointed. ‘Then I can see in here.’

He folded the floppy arms beside the head. Without them, the octopus looked like a plum with eyes. Mila wanted to say so, but her throat felt too tight.

Grandma bent beside her.

‘The loop isn’t broken. It just hasn’t got any room.’

She showed Mila with her fingers: two side by side, then eased very gently apart. The table creaked as Ilyas shifted his elbow. Otherwise, everything was quiet.

Mila picked up the needle again. This time, she didn’t put it straight under the top thread. First she traced the thread with her eyes. Near the edge was a loose curve. There was a little slack she could use.

She eased it towards the hollow.

The top loop lifted slightly.

‘Keep it like that,’ she told Ilyas.

‘I’ve got it.’

The needle slipped underneath. Mila breathed out, raised the loop and waited for the thread to settle.

‘Can you turn its head a little? Towards me.’

Ilyas turned it. The metal moved a quarter turn. Now the thread lay alongside the metal loop instead of across it.

Mila pushed another millimetre.

The first thread came free.

Aron made a little noise, as though his rice tin had started raining. He stopped at once. Mila realised she was smiling.

For the second loop, the puppet had to turn back. This time she saw that before she put the needle in. She told Ilyas which way, and he did exactly as she asked. Outside, a bus went past. The window rattled softly in its frame.

One loop left.

Mila could see the loose thread, but the metal loop wouldn’t pass it. She held the needle underneath and peered through the tiny gap she had made.

‘It needs to go back,’ she said.

Ilyas looked at the octopus. ‘All of it?’

‘The metal loop. Through the opening it came through.’

Grandma slipped her hand under the cloth without lifting the threads. Ilyas tilted the puppet’s head. For a moment it looked worse: the purple fabric almost touched the hollow. Then the metal passed through the opening.

The octopus lay free on the table.

Mila put down the needle. Her fingers ached from gripping it. A little dent remained in the weave.

‘One more thing,’ said Grandma.

She pointed to the threads bunched close together. Mila spread them with the side of the needle. Slowly, light showed between them. A thin line at first, then the same soft glow as the rest of the cloth.

Ilyas put the octopus well out of its way. ‘From now on, that loop faces the wall.’

Grandma returned the darning needle to its case.

Aron came to stand beside Mila. ‘The sea looked good, though.’

She nodded. She would think about that later, once the cloth was safely put away.

Back at the flat, Grandma carried a clean tray onto the balcony. Mila spread the cloth over it, shining side towards the open sky.

‘Won’t it take in more light?’ she asked.

‘When you first spread the empty cloth out, it borrows light. I picked it up this evening with that light inside. The next time you unfold it completely outside, it gives the light back.’

‘What happens after that?’

‘It stays grey. It can borrow more tomorrow evening.’

Mila took her hands off the edges. They stood together by the balcony door. It took longer than she had expected. The outside threads faded first. A soft square of light remained in the middle, seeming to shrink and shrink.

Grandma went to fetch two glasses of water. By the time she returned, only a narrow strip near the hem was shining.

‘Could your mum make other things too?’ asked Mila.

Grandma looked at the cloth. ‘Yes. We’ve got some boxes to sort through tomorrow.’

The last line of light faded. Mila touched the grey fabric with the back of her finger. Soft and cool, as before, but now she could only see her hand by the light from the living room.

She folded the cloth, tied the blue ribbon round it and tucked the label beneath the bow. Grandma put it back behind the pillowcases.

In the spare room, Mila pulled the flowered pillowcase over her pillow. That had a button too, but she could push this one under the edge of the mattress. It would have to do for tonight.