MORE ABOUT NICKY DILL The Emerald Fish

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22465, 28 July 1938, Page 8 (Supplement)

MORE ABOUT NICKY DILL The Emerald Fish

PART I

(By Helen Shaw)

“Excuse me, Mrs Roakes-Wain,” Brown said, twirling a polishing between his fingers, “but there la someone at the side door. I do not know who the someone is, because he is quite lost in clothes. There is also something which he sits beside. It seems to be a vehicle, a kind of box on wheels. He insists that they are wheels, although I am inclined to think them tins that have once held floor polish.” Mrs Roakes-Wain, who had been picking poppies, walked quickly towards the veranda, where she saw a small figure enveloped in a long blue coat sitting on top of a yellow dobbin. He wore such a widebrimmed hat that she could see- no more than the tip of his nose and an acorn pipe hanging from his mouth. "Hullo, Mrs Roakes-Wain. I’m called Tooli. I’m the son of Sooli, the market gardener. Sooli sells pumpkins and marrows and cauliflowers in the vegetable mart, but I sell different things. I made this dobbin all myself. Look at the wheels. They’re red, like the ones on the lorries. They .shine when I ride down hills.. Wouldn’t you like to see what I’ve brought in my dobbin?” .‘.Mrs Roakes-Wain sat on the ' veranda step. She put her poppies Into an empty jar. “Of course, I’d like to see your things, Tooli. Open them up.” They both leaned over the.dobbin. Tooli lifted its cover. He took out a brown wooden box, a book With “The Emerald Fish” written on the cover in green paint, and a - mandolin which had scarlet and i amber dragons curling over the • case. Mrs Roakes-Wain pushed back JL-WisP of hair. She was excited, •this strange little boy who produced a painted mandolin as calmly •s someone else might have lifted

out a roll of : silk or a cabbage, now Jtumed 'to- her.... “You open - it. The box, I mean. Look" what’s There was a piece of paper over the' top. A rustle, and the paper lay on the ground. vtJnder it was a glass fish with spots of gold .slightly raised from the surface. Out of its mouth, spread a spray of cherry blossom, the stalk pale apple green, the flower white with pink edges. The box was lined. Through the emerald green glass. Mrs Roakes-Waih saw the blue silk shining as if the fish were floating oh a very calm sea, . ’ Tooli put the box on to the concrete step, where the sun shone over the gold spots. He knew by the smile on Mrs Roakes-Wain’s face that she thought it as lovely as he did. “Sooli brought this fish from China. It’s -quite old, although not as old. as the'story I’m'going to tell you about it. I’ve written it into his book." Beside the silver-car, Brown was bending; polishing, dipping his mop into a bucket of water. Someone, pushed a mower over the lawn. They could hear the whirr of wheels. Thrushes were singing high up in the leafless branches of a walnut tree. All these things seemed far away while Mrs RoakesWain watched the yellow-faced child in his; blue cqat, sitting with crossed legs on her veranda. Tooli opened the book and spread it in front of him.- “You see,” he said, “it’s a legend.* Although it is written down as a story, it has music; and when I sing The Legend of the Emerald Fish you will feel that you are in China, and not in New Zealand.” He picked , up the mandolin. He drew his fingers across the strings. There was a red dragon by the low notes and an amber one by the high notes. "This is the story of Soo Lang. Hundreds of years ago Soo Lang the fisherman caught a special and beautifully marked fish which he took home to his wife. Cherry Flower, instead of selling it in the village. ‘Cherry Flower,’ he said, giving her the fish on a round wooden platter. T have caught a fish - to-day unlike all other _ fish. You cqok it and we shall, eat it tomorrow for breakfast.... and see

wfffether its flesh tastes sweet.’ Then Soo Lang returned to his boat. Cherry "Flower put the fish on a plate which looked like blue water; and she looked at the bright green of the fish’s body and at the scales which seemed to her like tiny golden beetles. She had never before seen such colours. There was water boiling to cook ■ it in. There was the knife to prepare it with; but Cherry Flower could not lift it from the .blue plate. She thought of her husband dragging the sea for more fish. She thought of his return in the early morning when the sea would still be the colour of milk. She thought-how he would sniff hungrily, expecting to smell his breakfast, but she could not lift the lish from its toy sea. Cherry Flower ran to the place where blossom grew. She pulled a piece.of.it and hurried back .to her .house, the. ends of the black and ptirple sash round her kimona bobbing. Slie-stuck .the flower into the fish mouth. She put the dish on a wooden block and lit a lamp and nung it above the emerald fish so that the golden scales looked more than ever like liny beetles, and the flower in its mouth like a bubble of foam. Then she went to sleep. In the morning when Soo Lang returned he was smiling at the thought of his, breakfast, but Cherry Flower was. still asleep. ‘Wake up,’ he called. She opened her eyes and said softly. ‘Soo Lang do not be angry. I could not cook the fish you caught. Us scales shone like golden beetles and its body looked brighter than willow leaves. It lies on the. blue plate under the lamp with a cherry flower in its mouth,’ and she bowed her head her black hair touched the rush mat. ‘But there is no longer a real fish here. Cherry Flower. It has turned to glass and the blossom to paper.’ He lifted it up and held it before the window. The sea was no longer milky. The sun had risen. All the golden beetles were glittering. They could see the waves running up the beach through the transparent glass. ‘lt is lovely. Cherry Flower. Its colours will never fade. You have brought luck to our house. We shall keep the fish forever and sing its story to our children.’ For many generations the sons and daughters of Soo Lang and

Cherry Flower remembered the legend and they sang , it to their children and the children counted the golden beetle scales and kept a lamp burning above it.” Tooli put down his mandolin. The thrushes were still singing in the walnut tree. Someone was running up the garden in bare feet. •T think that is a good .story, Tooli. I think,” Mrs Roakes-Wain continued, but she did not finish. ‘‘What are you doing? I’ve been riding down the hill on a. scooter. Hullo, what’s your name? What a quaint hat that is. It’s like a.mushroom.” It was Jima. She sat on the veranda and began to look at the glass fish. "This is Tooli, Jima. He has just , told me the legend of this emerald fish.” Tooli sang something very softly and pulled his hat oyer his eyes. . .. . •• • • Suddenly Jima began to laugh. It was very funny, yes, very funny. “I know you, I know you. Race you to the walnut tree and back.” Away went Jima. Away went Tooli; but his blue coat caught in. his logs and his hat shaded his eyes. Jima won. She laughed and said: “Look at poor Tooli. He can’t run as fast as Jima. I’m sorry for Tooli. Ho has a yellow dobbin. He has four red wheels. He has a greeri glass fish, but he can’t run because his clothes are so big.” Tooli was still running in a kind of trot when a gtist of wind blew his hat from his head. And his hair was as red as the coat of an Irish setter. i “And so,” said Nicky'Dill picking up his father’s gardening hat, “here I am and the wind is blowing Tooli back to China.” . “This is one of the Gourians’- stories,” Jima told her mother,, who laughed, and said that they could have, toasted buns and strawberry jam. And when they had eaten the buns Nicky told Jima that he had a real surprise for her. “Farmer Patten has promised to take us into the country. We’re to ride on the top of his vegetables, Jima, among the carrots and the striped tiger marrows and the pink lolly sticks of rhubarb and the round crinkly cabbages.” (To be continued.)