I knew a lad back in my school days, Terence was his name, but we all called him Terry. Now Terry was pretty much your average lad, nothing special about him you’d think from a distance, but close up, close up he was different. It wasn’t his face, or his eyes, or ears or hair or anything like that, it was Terry’s hands. When he spread his fingers wide you could see it clear as day, webbing, Terry had webbed hands like a frog. He took some stick for that webbing from a lot of kids, they’d call him ‘Fish Fingers’ or ‘Frog Boy’. Kids can be nasty and small minded like that and what really hurt Terry was that he was afraid of the water, everyone said he couldn’t even put his face in a basinful of water he was that scared of it. So he never went swimming with the rest of us kids down the baths or in the river on a hot summers day, but he would stare at that river for hours. Now here’s a funny thing. Terry was too scared to get his face wet but he would spend hours just inches from it, looking down into the river and dabbing its surface ever so lightly with his fingers. Me and Terry were mates so I was curious about this dabbing and one day I asked him what he was doing, just tapping the water like that with his fingers.
“I’m talking to the trout.” He says all dreamy like.
“Talking !” I says with a laugh. “Fish don’t talk.”
“Yes they do.” He tells me straight up. “I’m calling them, you lie down there, don’t move or you’ll scare ‘em. You lie down and see if they don’t come.”
So I lies down on the grass beside him and I’m watching and waiting while Terry’s dabbing on the water. I was getting a bit bored when nothing happened for a couple of minutes and I’d just about had enough when this big beautiful trout swims out of the weed and goes to his fingers and nibbles on them.
“Wow !” I says. “You can talk to the trout, what’s it saying ?”
“She wants to see the land.” Terry says and very gently he puts his hands into the water.
The trout just lays there as he puts his hands under it and then lifts it out of the water all glistening and shining. Now I’m thinking that we could maybe start a fire and cook the trout, but Terry stood up and turned around, like he really was showing this fish everything around the river. And he’s treating it so gentle as it lays there in his open hands, its mouth opening and closing, I didn’t think Terry would take kindly to me suggestin’ we eat it.
“Okay.” Terry says and kneeling down puts it back in the water.
Then he dabs his fingers some more and the fish swims away. Now I’m not saying that what he did wasn’t amazing but I was wonderin’ about this talking business, I mean I didn’t hear a thing.
“That it then ?” I asks him. “Fish happy now ?”
“She was quite happy, but she can’t stay in the air for long and she really wants to see more of the land.” Terry says thoughtful like.
“How you goin’ to show a fish more if it has to be in water then ?” I asks him.
“Take her in a fish bowl of course stupid.” Terry says back. He could be a bit sharp with his tongue could Terry.
“What now ?”
“Course not now.” He scowls at me. “I have to find a fish bowl first.”
And he turns to go off, in a bit of a huff I think cos I’m being a bit dense.
“I think we’ve got one at home.” I says to him and suddenly he’s looking at me all smiles.
“Really ? Can you lend it me ?”
“Well.” I says slow like, playin’ him a bit.
“Go on, please.” He wheedles, so I nods.
“Okay.”
“Brill !”