Innocence and its sibling, forthrightness

‘What you eatin?’A question met by a smile. ‘What you eatin? Mummy, look, the lady’s eatin.’ ‘She’s not, Matthew. Now turn around.’ ‘She is. Look. Show me. What’s in your mouth?’ ‘Matthew!’ ‘What mummy?’‘That’s rude.’ ‘But I want to see. What she’s eatin.’

‘Matthew!’ This in a fierce whisper. ‘She’s not eating. Hasn’t mummy told you? Remember? You mustn’t ask strangers questions.’ ‘What’s a stranger?’‘Never mind. I’ll tell you later.’

‘Tell me now. What’s a stranger, mummy?’ Another whisper: ‘Someone we don’t know. We mustn’t ask them questions.’ Whispered back, more audibly: ‘But I ask gramma Jane questions.’ ‘Grandma Jane’s not a stranger, Matthew.’ ‘Mummy.’ ‘What? Why don’t you look at the pictures in your book, Matthew. Look, here. What dog is this?’ ‘Spotty.’ ‘It’s a Dalmatian. Yes, look at all the spots on its coat.’ Whisper: ‘Is the stranger older than gramma Jane?’ ‘Matthew!’ ‘Is she?’ ‘Ye-s, I reckon. Now, back to your book. Turn the pages, find….the Alsatian.’ ‘Here.’ ‘Good boy. Okay, now…look for the Labrador.’ ‘This one.’

‘Excellent. Find….two poodles.’ ‘Mummy.’ ‘Find the poodles first, Matthew.’ ‘This is a poodle. Mummy?’ ‘Find the other one first. You have to look very carefully. It’s hidden somewhere.’

Silence broken only by the rustle of pages turning.

‘Mummy, is Toby an Alsatian?’ ‘No, grandma Jane’s dog is a Jack Russell.’ ‘My gramma’s got a Jack Russell.’ ‘Matthew! Ssh. Turn around. Face the front. Read your book.’ ‘I finished reading it.’ ‘No you haven’t. You have to find the other poodle, remember?’ ‘It’s not there.’

‘Okay then, let’s be quiet. Mummy’s going to ask you to put your finger on your lips. For silence.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because it’s nice not to talk in a train.’ ‘Everybody?’ ‘No, just us.’ ‘Why mummy?’ ‘Because…..mummy’s getting a headache.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Yes. Now see how long you can sit quietly without saying anything to mummy.’ ‘Okay.’

Twenty seconds of silence.

‘Mummy.’ ‘Ah-ah. Put your finger back. You’ve done very well so far. Good boy.’ ‘Mummy?’ ‘What is it, Matthew?’ ‘What’s this?’ ‘What’s what?’ ‘This.’ ‘Whatever are you trying to do? Close one eye?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Ha, ha. You funny boy.’ ‘You do it, mummy.’ ‘There. It’s called winking. Where did you pick that up from?’ ‘The stranger showed me. Look, look mummy.’ ‘Oh my goodness. I do apologise. Has my son been troubling you?’ ‘Not at all. He’s a lively little beanbag, isn’t he?’ ‘My gramma is Jane.’ ‘And I’m Lydia. And what’s your name?’ ‘Matthew Stanton. For my birthday cake mummy lit four candles.’ ‘He turned four last week.’ ‘How many candles were on your birthday cake?’ ‘Matthew! I am so sorry.’

‘He’s only a child. There’s no need to apologise. Well young man the cake would have to be very big to hold all the candles for me.’ ‘How many?’ ‘Ninety-two.’ ‘Mummy. How many on your cake?’ ‘Oh, a hell of a lot too.’ ‘How many?’ ‘Guess.’ ‘Umm…fifteen?’ Laughter all round. ‘Oh to be fifteen again. Young, full of life. But 1935 wasn’t a good time to be 15, with the world moving towards war.’ ‘Were you born in Australia, Lydia? Sorry, I’m Kylie Stanton.’ ‘No. The family came over from Poland. What was left of us.’ ‘Mummy?’ ‘Yes, Matthew, what is it? Didn’t mummy tell you not to interrupt when people are talking?’ ‘Yes.’

‘Anyway, what is it?’ ‘Can we ask the stranger questions now?’ ‘Oh dear. The curiosity of the young. I hold my breath every time Matthew says he wants to ask something.’ ‘Oh, tosh. Let him, Kylie. I do believe a child’s curiosity should not be restrained. If he’s afraid to ask at four he’ll be reluctant to ask at twenty-four.’ ‘My mum says the same thing.’ ‘What is it you’re desperate to know, young Matthew?’ ‘What you eatin?’ ‘Eating? Nothing. Look, empty. No food. No teeth. It’s just the way a mouth without teeth moves. With a bit of luck you won’t discover that for another 88 years.’

Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney, Australia.