No, the one she liked best was a simple, hatless, blue shirted gnome that sat with his rod out in the waterless garden, next to a sign that said:
'Gone fishin!'
It had been Ivy’s long dead husband that had bought her that one and it had been the very first of her collection, given to her by him on the very day that they had bought the house together.
She had often heard people use the phrase, 'breed like rabbits'. But in her opinion, the expression should have been changed to, 'breed like gnomes'. She found it strange, as soon as she had one gnome the garden, it was an open invitation for every single person that knew her, bar none, to start giving her gnomes as gifts. It didn't matter what occasion: birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries. She even had people she didn't know turning up at her door from time to time to donate to her collection.
She had to admit though, it did always make her smile to think of herself as the 'gnome lady' of the town. Her daughter was less happy about the distinction. As a child her little Louise had loved the gnomes. Talking about them for endless hours, day and night.
'What do gnomes do when no one is watching?' she would often ask. Or 'do the gnomes move from place to place all by themselves?'
Ivy had delighted in her child's interest, often popping out in the middle of the night to move the gnomes to different places in the garden. Louise thought she was outsmarting the gnomes, often talking to them the day after and telling them things like, 'I remember quite well where you were before. You can't fool me you know!'
Then high school started and it all came to an end. Like Santa Claus, Barbie and her favourite pink tricycle, the gnomes were left behind in her childhood and looked upon with the disdain that only a true teenager could manage. It made Ivy sad, but she kept the gnomes nonetheless.
It was around her fifty-second birthday, while she was out shopping, that Ivy suddenly fainted. She tried to grab on to the aisle to stop herself falling, but it was no use. She woke in hospital the same day to the concerned face of her daughter and the nurses.
By that time Louise had left home and was living with her fiancé in the city nearby. On seeing her, it was the first time that Ivy had realised that her daughter was now a woman. She thought it funny that she had never really noticed that before.
'Mum, it's a tumour in your brain,' said Louise, trying not to cry. 'They can't do anything about it.'
The news should have been more of a shock to Ivy. But it was as if she already knew what her daughter was going to say. 'Try not to worry,' she said to Louise, 'it'll all sort its self out, don't fret.'
That night, while lying in the hospital bed, Ivy awoke to an uncomfortable feeling on her legs. Pulling herself into an upright position, she looked down to see her favourite gnome from the garden, the little fisherman, sitting on her legs watching her. She smiled and gave a little laugh.
'Are you trying to get me back for fooling you as a child, Louise?' she whispered, remembering the tricks she had played on her daughter.
'Louise?' asked the gnome, coming to life. 'Listen, my name ain't no Louise, big yin.'
'Oh my,' said Ivy, massaging her temples. 'I think my tumour really is getting the better of me.'
'No worries!' said the Gnome, 'They call me Fishin. Gone Fishin.' He extended a little hand to her and despite herself, she shook it.
'You're from my garden?' asked Ivy, reminding herself that she was talking and shaking hands with no one.
'Aye Missus. Listen, we don't have much time. You've always been good to us like. And me and the others, well, we appreciate that. So hearing you were sick ‘n that we thought maybe we could help, you know?'
Ivy rubbed her eyes, wondering if it was the tumour or if she was having a breakdown.
'See, we were thinking, that thing in your head that's killing you. We could keep it for you and your family. Hold on to it, free of charge, if you know what I mean?'
'So I wouldn't be sick?' ask Ivy.
'Aye, if you want to think of it that way,' said Fishin, fiddling nervously with his beard. 'But we'd just be keeping it like. What do you say?'
'Of course, sure, OK,' said Ivy, amazed at the lengths her own imagination would go to comfort her.
'Right you are Missus, it's a done deal,' said Fishin with a big grin.
Suddenly, the door to Ivy's room opened and the night porter entered.
'Everything OK there Ivy?' asked the bleary eyed girl. 'Who were you talking to?' Ivy looked down at her legs, but the gnome was already gone.
'Oh, just a crazy old woman talking to herself,' said Ivy. 'Don't worry dear.'
When she woke the next day, Ivy couldn't help but laugh at how silly she'd been. But when a gaggle of surprised doctors arrived by her bedside in the afternoon, she knew that something had happened.
'We don't know how or why,' admitted one embarrassed young doctor, looking nervously at the doctors beside him 'but your tumour is gone!' Ivy just nodded and smiled idiotically, she didn't dare tell the doctors about Gone Fishin or his visit the night before. She had no intention of being released from one hospital, only be sent to another that specialised in 'funny people.'
On the ride home she tried to tell Louise about what she had seen the night before. Her daughter looked at her doubtfully and Ivy wondered if she wouldn't end up in the special hospital anyway.
'Mum, I think it's time you got rid of those old gnomes,' said Louise, with a feigned laugh. 'You're seeing them in your dreams. That can't be good for you.'
'Not in my life time,' said Ivy sternly, 'And if you're smart, not in yours either!'
From that day until her seventieth birthday, Ivy never had a single day of ill health. Her old friends died of flu, cancers and even poor Martha fell to some tropical disease that she had picked up on her travels. But Ivy was always as strong as an ox and as fit as a fiddle. Then one night she simply passed away in her sleep.
It was a hard time for Louise, by then in her late thirties with two children and a divorce under her belt. Her mother had been her only support at that time and losing her was worse than losing her husband to a younger woman. Her one consolation was that she would finally be rid of the gnomes.
On returning from the funeral home, she stormed into the little garden, armed only with a hammer and her pent-up rage. She didn't care what the neighbours thought. She was a grieving daughter after all. Allowances would be made.
The big man was the first to go with a hard blow to the head; chunks of red and white pottery were strewn all over the lawn. The family under the plant were kicked from their green shelter and trampled underfoot. The odd Indonesian half gnome was ripped from the ground and thrown against the rubbish pile nearby.
The last gnome that stood was Gone Fishing. She hesitated with her hammer for a moment knowing that her mother had loved that gnome most of all. But the little bearded face smiled back at her mockingly and she knew she could not, would not, allow it to remain. With all the force she could muster, she brought the hammer down heavily onto the gnome's head. Its little body exploded in a shower of fragments.
As her victory was complete, she felt a wave of relief, as if history had been cleansed with that last hammer blow. She decide to finish the job and started gathering up the broken creatures and tossing them irreverently into the wheely bin. With any luck they would be the last gnomes, broken or otherwise, she would see in her life time.
She had just kicked a bit of gnome from the path in to a pile of broken shards, when her mobile phone rang, an unfamiliar number flashing up on the display.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively. She didn't know why, but she suddenly found herself feeling nervous.
“Mrs Bowman?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Miss Bowman,” replied Louise, “yes?”
“Miss Bowman, this is the school calling. I'm afraid there has been a problem with your daughters - both of them. We've just sent them to hospital now...”
> Lousie didn't here the rest of what said, the phone dropping from her hand and crashing to the ground, amidst a few remaining shards of broken pottery.
***
Weel she didnae brekra promise, but she did brek ra gnome! Ne’er hid much time fur gnomes masel. Au that stauning aboot dressin funny. It's types like that gee ra rest o’ us a bad name.
But ra auld dear seem’d tae like them, an ye’ve seen whit it goat her? A guid deal mair life, thats whit! Ye see that's ra thing u've been tryn tae say tae ye. Us folk, we look efter them whitlook efter us. Stickin oot a we gless o’ mulk noo an again. Le’in a wee place fur us in yer hame ur yer gardin, jist wee things, ye ken?
Noo, yez micht be thinkin that we're a bunch o we selfish theiv’n gits. But ure yoose ony better?
The Translation:
The Upkeep
We'll she never broke the promise, but she did break the gnome! Never had much time for gnomes myself. All that standing about dressing funny. It's types like that that give the rest of us a bad name.
But the old dear seemed to like them, and you see what it got her? A good deal of extra life, that's what! You see that's the thing I've been trying to say to you. My folk, we look after them that look after us. Sticking out a little glass of milk now and again. Leaving a place for us in your home or your garden, just little things, you know?
Now, you might be thinking that we're a bunch of selfish thieving creatures. But are your people any better?
***
Behind the Veil
The veil dropped back revealing Isa's smooth, placid face. She was immensely beautiful; stunningly so. Her thin, feminine features, if they could have been seen by the males, would have drawn them to her instantly. At first sight, they would have rushed to be her protector and guardian; a girl with such a face was too soft, too gentle, to be allowed to bear the ravages of a harsh world.
'I am to be married,' she said quietly to her still veiled friend that sat at the water’s edge. 'Did you hear me Tirza?'
The veiled girl nodded. Even her eyes had been hidden: a thin mesh of material fine enough to shield her eyes from the men while still allowing her to see.
Like a cat on a wall, Isa walked with deliberate, delicate steps over the warm sand, then sat beside her friend.
'You complain so much about these veils, then we finally get some time at the Oasis, one of the few places you can be free of it and you sit there with it on.'
Tirza's hand rose to her face and pulled back the dark veil that kept all but her night black hair hidden from the world. Her eyes were rimmed with red.
'Have you been crying?' asked Isa.
Tirza looked back intently. While her skin was not as entrancing as Isa's, her face had an almost boyish charm that was not unattractive. She would never match Isa’s fragile beauty, but there was a natural charm to her face that would last as the other girl’s looks faded with age.
Without answering, Tirza grabbed Isa's hand and ran towards the shimmering water, pulling Isa with her as she went. Fully clothed, the two of them plunged into the cool, salty water, the heat of the day being washed away in a wave of refreshment.
'Just as well the men aren't allowed here,' said Isa laughing, 'they’d think you'd gone mad for sure. What's got into you?'
I'm sorry,' said Tirza, her tears washed away in a splash of water, 'Just a bit of a funny day, I'm going to be sad without my heartbreakingly stunning friend to keep me company.'
'I'll still come back to visit you.' protested Isa. 'Emir Fahdi doesn't stay so far away you know.'
'I know, I know,' said Tirza, hiding the doubts in her voice. 'How do you feel about him, this great Emir you're marrying?'
'I don't know so much about him really, but a woman can't survive by themselves in a place like this and the price he's offered my parents, well, it'll be enough to raise them a rank in society and keep them for longer if need be.'
Tirza swam closer, her hand rubbing lightly against Isa's wet cheek.
'That's not what I asked,' said Tirza, 'I asked how do you feel about him?'
Isa turned her face away.
'I feel I will be a good wife whoever my husband is,' she said, as if trying to convince herself. 'Come with me Tirza, I'll ask him to find you somewhere nearby to stay, we can still be close.'
The other girl watched her for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious or not. 'That could be harder than just letting you go, but ask, see what he says.'
#
Fahdi rode by himself through the calm desert. An inexperienced rider would have been lost long ago, but these were his lands, ruled by his family for over a hundred years. Off to the right he spotted tracks where most would have only seen a sand dune and knew instinctively that one of the roaming families had made a camp near by; it was an Emir's job to know his people.
He scanned the horizon spotting the approaching rider, his heat weary eyes straining to see in the midday sun. Whoever it was, they were riding fast, forcing the sand to rise up in an orange cloud behind. News, Fahdi hoped. He smacked the rear of his camel, sending it charging towards the oncoming rider.
'May God's blessing be on you,' said the rider pulling his own mount beside Fahdi's.
'A pleasure as always Zanne, may the Lord bless you as well.' Unlike their female counterparts few of the desert men were handsome. Their skin was hard and leathery from days of riding in the blistering sun and cutting winds and even the younger boys were cursed with faces that looked like well-worn hide. 'Males are built for strength and combat; women to be the prize', Fahdi's father had told him time and again in his youth.
'You bring news?' asked Fahdi.
'I bring good news, my friend,' said Zanne with a smile. 'Her family accepts. Not that there was ever any doubt with the bride price you were offering. They could hardly contain their smiles when I told them.'
'Families can be fickle things, you will learn that when your time comes Zanne, one can never be too sure.'
'But I still don't get it, why her, my friend? I mean you've never even spoken to her, of all the girls a man of your station and rank could marry, why pick a girl from outside your own lands? A girl from her tribe of all places! They have few connections and even if they did her family is in no position of influence.' Fahdi looked uncomfortable.
'Can you keep a secret?' he asked. Zanne nodded. 'I saw her once.'
'You saw her, you mean without the veil? But how?'
'Zanne, boys do silly things and in my teens I once hid in the oasis near her home; I didn't dare venture into one nearby our own lands in case I was recognised. I know now how wrong I was, but God in greatness did not punish me for my youthful folly. Instead he rewarded my daring, for it was there that I saw Isa unveiled. She was young then, as was I, but even then I knew it had to be her. You cannot believe what a beautiful creature she is, her skin as soft as the mountain snow, her face a perfect symmetry. I knew then what would make me happy.'
'To have her?' offered Zanne dryly; he was unmoved by Fahdi's words. The other man shook his head in response; he was used to Zanne's odd wit already.
'Oh, to have her will be a joy of course. But what will make me happy above all else is to make her happy!'
'It's terrible what infatuation can make a hardened man like you say.' joked Zanne. 'You're a lucky man, from a lucky family.'
'That's right. Did I ever tell you how my family did so well?'
'I don't think so,' said Zanne, 'I had assumed that they were just talented, like you.'
Fahdi couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not; it was one of the reasons he liked the man.
'Oh they were, but not in the way you might think. It was a jinn that helped us. One of the Marid.'
Zanne laughed. 'You must be joking, surely?'
'No, not at all, my great grandfather found it posing as an old woman in the mountains when prospecting for ore. She promised to make him rich, if he followed her commands.'
&n
bsp; Zanne listened in silent disbelief, enraptured by the absurdity of the tale.
'Any other man would have seen her as a crazy old woman, but not my grandfather, he was clever. He did everything she asked, even the strangest of things. Once she made him stand on his head all night outside her cave. He was in turn rewarded and not once did she let him down. Any time he needed advice or had a problem, he simply went to her and she gave him the answer. Though she always had her price.'
'An amazing tale, though I'm not sure you should believe it,' mocked Zanne. He was about to ride away when he suddenly remembered something.
'Oh, there was a request.' he said casually.
'A request?'
'From the girl herself. A trivial thing. She wonders if she can bring her friend with her,'
'No!' snapped Fahdi.
'But the girl, she'll be in a new place, she'll be more comfortable to have a friend,' protested Zanne.
'I said, no.'
'It's not my place to question you, but why not my friend? It would be good for her. It could be good for me.'
'There is something about that friend of hers, something I just don't like. Trust me on this, you want to stay clear of her, we'll find you a good woman soon enough. In fact, return to the girl’s parents, tell them that I have a term to add to our wedding agreement. Under no circumstances is Isa to see that friend of hers, is that clear? If they're as happy as you say they are about the match, then they are sure to agree, and the girl is loyal, she will not go against her parent’s wishes.
#
'How do you find your new quarters?' asked Fahdi.