Anna and the Black Knight: Incorporating Anna’s Book

It wasn’t at all unusual to find a child roaming the streets at that hour – in the 1930s it was just like that. When I had taken her home, and after she had washed the dirt from her face and hands, I really saw her – a very pretty little red-haired child, but as she later told me, ‘that’s on the outside’. It took me a very long time to know her on the inside, as she demanded to be known.

The relentless pursuit of beauty engaged the few short years of Anna’s life. It was at first a little strange to be told that a picture smelt good, but I soon got used to that. Anything that delighted all your senses at once was, for Anna, God! And the microscope was a special way of seeing him.

So it was that Anna found God in the strangest of places – tram tickets, grass, mathematics and even the dirt on her hands, and then somebody told you to wash it off!

Whatever satisfied Anna’s idea of beauty had to be preserved, written down by anyone who was prepared to do so, and saved in one of her numerous shoe boxes. Every so often these boxes were placed on the kitchen table and the contents sorted out.

Where she got the idea of beauty I do not know. In those years the East End of London was, for most people, a grimy, dirty place, but for Anna it was just beautiful. Anna spent most of her efforts in turning the ugly into the beautiful. This often meant inventing a whole new situation into which the ugly facts could be transformed.

It was beauty that really drew Anna and me together. I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t been totally absorbed with the subject of mathematics. In fact, I’d rather ‘do’ mathematics than eat or sleep. Old John D., who taught me mathematics for seven years, once defined it as ‘the pursuit of pure beauty’. Although I liked that as a definition, it wasn’t until Anna had been with us for about two years that I really grasped what that meant. Anna and I were sitting at the kitchen table whilst I was working out the reciprocal of seventeen, which is another way of saying one divided by seventeen, which in the nature of things gave me another number, which was what I was after.

A little while later it occurred to Anna to ask what happens if you divide one by the number you’ve found? We worked it out the hard way. The answer was seventeen!! So often we sat at the kitchen table, Anna sitting on her curled up legs, chin cupped in her hands, whilst we ‘worked out things’.

One evening, after we had been doing things on pieces of paper, she suddenly announced ‘It is just beautiful ideas’. I don’t accept that entirely, but I do accept G. G. Hardy when he says ‘there is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics’.

Although I was considerably older than Anna, this pursuit of pure beauty made us companions in our explorations.

Her life was a continuous quest for knowledge and understanding as well as for beauty. Any thing or person that could answer her question would be stored in boxes or asked to ‘write it down big’. This request to ‘write it down big’ did mean that her collection of writings were often spelt in various ways – not always right – but that didn’t really matter. Often what had been written on her bits of paper were the kinds of things that grown ups would say. Adults’ words on the lips of a six year old child were a bit puzzling at times, but Anna worked on the basis of ‘if it says the right thing in the right way, use it, if not scrap it’.

During the years that Anna lived with me and my Mum and our changing household she wrestled with words and sentences to fit her ideas. It took me some time to realize that although we lived in the same world we saw it in different ways. Everything was for Anna a means of understanding ‘what it was all about’. Grown ups had called her jackdaw, or parrot, little monkey, sprite – she was certainly all of these things but, more than these, she was a child.

Chapter One (#ulink_5583b738-b48a-54b9-bbbc-719041032219)

Not Going To Church and What Mister God Is Like (#ulink_5583b738-b48a-54b9-bbbc-719041032219)

Although Anna went to church and Sunday School she was often more than a little irritated by this experience. It didn’t seem to matter to her that God was meant to be the Creator, all powerful and loving, etc. Anna saw God as something other than this. God wasn’t good because he loved or was just. God was good because he was beautiful. The very nature of God was pure beauty.

It was at first a bit of an ordeal taking Anna to church, for it was the chess board flooring that grasped her, more than any preacher’s words. As she once told me ‘it makes you tingle all over’, and whatever made you tingle all over was very close to God.

What bothered Anna so much about going to church was the fact that so many people seemed to be looking for miracles. For Anna everything was a miracle and the greatest miracle was that she was living in it.

I dont like to go to cherch very much and I do not go becase I do not think Mister God is in cherch and if I was Mister God I would not go.

Peple in cherch are miserable becase peple sin misrable songs and misrable prers and peple make Mister God a very big bully and he is not becase he is not a big bully becase he is funy and luving and kind and strong. When you look to Fin it is like wen you lok to Mister God but Fin is like a very baby God and Mister God is hunderd time bigger, so you can tell how nice Mister God is.

Anna divided numbers up into People Numbers and God Numbers. People Numbers were fairly easy to understand and fairly easy to work out. On the other hand, God Numbers were even easier to understand, but sometimes impossible to work out.

Anna seldom played with what would be recognized as the usual toys these days. The exceptions to this were her rag doll, her paints and my old train set. This consisted of one engine, one coal-tender and eight trucks. She played with them for about a week and then put them back into the box.

It was at this point that God Numbers started to appear. Anna asked, ‘How many different ways can I join together the engine, the coal-tender and the eight trucks?’ I told her how to arrive at the answer. It turned out to be somewhat bigger than she anticipated and so she thought the final answer went into the realm of God Numbers. It was 3,628,800 and this was merely the result of finding out how many different ways ten articles could be arranged in a straight line. It didn’t take her very long to realize that there would be a lot of questions with People Numbers that were going to land you up to your neck in God Numbers.

Peple say Mister God is like a king but fancy King Gorge coming down our street, I bet he do not know were our stret is is and I bet he do not know me. But Mister God know, Mister God know our stret and Fin and Mily and Twink and Pilet and all the darling flotkins. And I bet Mister God know the mark on my face even.

Anna had many friends in the neighbouring streets. Two of them were a little girl about four years old, Pilet, who was often called ‘Pill’ and her baby brother William, who was always known as ‘Twink’. All the children were known as ‘flotkins’. The poor of the East End were often referred to as ‘the flotsam of society’. Anna’s friends Henriques and Niels called the kids ‘die Kinder’ and the two words became ‘flotkins’.

Because of the poverty in the East End at that time it was rare that any child had a new toy; most of the time it was a question of pretending that cardboard boxes could be anything you wished them to be. Many of the younger children joined in these games of ‘let’s pretend’.

One of the things that I had made was a device for blowing bubbles. With this I could produce a constant stream of fairly large soap bubbles – these the children would chase and burst with their hands, cricket bats, rolled up newspapers, etc. Twink’s special instrument was a wire fly swat. Although these games could and did last as long as an hour or two, some of the children saw in these bubbles all the colours of the rainbow and realized the beauty of them. Some, Anna in particular, saw reflections. It was my efforts to explain to Anna just how these reflections came about that made me buy a garden globe for her. This garden globe was about eighteen inches in diameter, made of silvered glass. She soon realized that the images at the edge of the globe were, to use her own words, ‘squashed up’. What was never and could never be seen as a reflection in this global mirror was the bit behind the globe. It was for Anna an indication that it was here that Mister God lived.

Anna put together the idea of the garden globe, soap bubbles, glass Christmas tree decorations and finally highly polished ball bearings, which did exactly the same kind of thing, as everything could be reflected in a small ball bearing – that is, except the bit where Mister God lived. It was clear to Anna that everything that God had made could be reflected in a ball bearing. Being such a tiny thing it could easily be put in your pocket or even your ear, couldn’t it?

I did not go to cherch on Sunday becase I did not want to go and Fin tuk me on a trane to a big forist. It is a wondfull forist and Fin cudle me and tell sum wondfull story about Mister God and it was better than Sunday school. In cherch people make Mister God big and big and big and Mister God get so big that you dont know, but Fin make Mister God so little, he get in your eye.

This would have been Epping Forest.

In the forist I see sum rabit and sum bager and a lot of bird and sum deer and a ded one too, but I did not see no peple becase they was in the boozer and wen I saw the ded deer it make me cry a bit and Fin say it is sily to cry for ded thing but I can cry for peple in the boozer. Fin say to tuch the ded deer and I tuch the ded deer and it Puft like face powdr all up my nos. Wen it gos all to powdr it gos into dirt and then the gras gros in it and then the shep eat the gras and then I eat the shep and so I eat the ded deer and because Mister God make it all, I eat Mister God all time like the people do in cherch. But mine is better becase I do it all the time. Not only sometimes like they do in cherch but every time.

One of Anna’s problems was the fact that things had a habit of changing shapes, from frog spawn to frogs, from caterpillars to butterflies; dead rabbits she had seen in Epping Forest certainly changed their shapes. Even in the house near to us with the green painted woodwork, the house that Anna called the ‘green house’ was slowly changing its appearance and shape. It seemed to Anna that everything needed its shape to live in. I could, of course, have tried to explain the word ‘decay’ but I didn’t. Anna concluded that when a thing changed its shape it was because it had something else to do for Mister God. For Anna, death was just one of those things that happened. Death was that point in life when you began to change shape. Anna and I had sat by Old Granny Harding as she died; changing shape sometimes took a long time, a very long time. Even if Anna never knew what shape Granny Harding changed into, who would argue with her? Not me. After all, if Mister God wanted it, it must be good.

I asked Fin where do the shape (of the deer) go to? And Fin say about the green hous and Fin say becase no one is in it to look after the shape, it start to fall down becase mows and rat go in and they want their shape and they make hols and the shape go to another shape. So wen the deer gos out of its shape, som more thing go in for another shape. And it do too! becase we see a ded rabit shape that was full up of worms and betels and spidres to make another shape and every shape is Mister God shape, but Mister God has not got a propre shape. Mister God is like a pensil, but not like a pensil you can see, but like a pensil you can not see, so you not see what shape it is, but it can draw all the shapes ther is and this is like Mister God. When you grow up you get a bit funy becase you want Mister God to have a propre shape like an old man and wiskers and wrinkels on his face but Mister God do not look like that.

When Twink play tranes, he have a big wood box. Sumtime the box is like a trane and somtime lik a house and sumtime like a ship and sumtime like a car and sum-time you put sum thing in it and sumtime you do not, but you take sumthing out. And the box is like Mister God. Sumtime it luk like sumthing and sumtime is luk like another thing. If you say Mister God is green then Mister God cannot be red, but he is. If you say Mister God is big, how can you say Mister God is litle, but he is. And if you say Mister God is fat, you can not say Mister God is thin, ha! ha! ha! but he is too so! How can you say of Mister God, becase you can not. But I can becase I have a sekrit book Fin give to me. It is a pictur book all about snow flak and every snowflak is not the same. If you look at a snowflak shape it is not the same as another snowflak shape, so it has not got a propre snowflak shape. But you can only call it snow and you can not call it a shape and you see THAT IS LIKE MISTER GOD. You can not call Mister God a thing and you can not call Mister God a shape and you can only call Mister God Mister God.

Chapter Two (#ulink_34e95a0d-ccc7-5b4f-a63b-65c722a7c76b)

My Darling Mummy (#ulink_5583b738-b48a-54b9-bbbc-719041032219)

As Anna began to grapple with her ideas and those very important things she had asked people to write down for her, she began to weave them into little stories. Everything had to be looked at and questions had to be asked. Her questions flowed like a flood tide around and over everything. All this activity made me glow with some pride.

While she sorted through her store of ideas and pieces of paper contained in her numerous shoe boxes, I had to admit to myself that there was indeed something a little strange about Anna. She had no strange powers, no special senses, no special abilities or anything like that. Now, about half a century after her death, I can see that she had the strangest of all qualities. She could WAIT. Wait for the right moment, wait until, for her, everything was just right.

I’m fairly certain that Anna had never been seriously abused. Badly neglected, yes. But, Anna still kept hold of her idea of the perfect mother.

Anna’s ‘Darling Mummy’ was no real person, but something like putting together the jigsaw of the many stories she wrote about her ideas. Her waiting was like cooking – the mixture of the various bits came out as a different dish.

Before I go to sleep I think about Mummy and this is what I think. Did you ever see stars on a frost nigt? They look very clos and it is like they are tide to you with string and yor feet dont tuch the ground and you have not got any wate and when I luk in Mummy eye it is like I have not got no wate and if Mummy dont hold me tite I shall go up in the air like a bird. Did you ever bump into a spidre web when you didnt no and did you ever go asleep on the cul gras and did you ever have a hot drink when you was cold and tired and did you ever strok a duk’s tummy? Well, when Mummy kiss you, it is like that. Sumtime Mummy lips is delekat like a spidre web. Sumtime cul lik gras and sweet. Somtime hot and berning like soop and somtime soft lik a duk tummy very smooth. And when you kiss you have to put yor lips toogethre and so Mummy breeths on you and it smel like all the flowrs in the world and you can tell becase that is wot luv smell like so you can tell how luvly Mummy is.

If you see a funy thing you larf out lowd, but if you have a spesial sekrit insid you, you dont. But you have a spesial smile. And this is like a flower bud that is just going to open, you cant see it but you no it is so butefull inside. And Mummy smile is like that, but you cant see all the flowrs in the world at the sam time. So then Mummy dont smile all her secret smile at the sam time and I am very pashent because Mummy has got milions and milions of sekrit smiles and I luv her so much.

Sumtime Mummy ly down and clos her eye and she luk-like Mary, who I saw in a cherch in a candel lite, but I dont remembr were. But Mummy luk so luvly and cuddly it make me trembul with joy. Dont you think that Mummy is the most butefull one in all the world? Ah but I am going to tell you sum more. I told Neels how luvly Mummy is and Neels told Mister Henriks and I here Neels say if Mummy butey corsed combustion then the hole world wuld go into flams. Neels say it is a complemant. But Neels dont now sumtims. Mummy make me berst in flams. And I ask Neels what is the most big numbre I could say for luving Mummy becase I am not very gud with sums and Neels say if I rite down ‘infinity’ that is the most big. But it dont luk very big but milions and milions of them wold be, but I luv Mummy so much and I will rite sum more.

Mummy is not like no one els becas she dont have to speak if she dont want to. And somtime it is nice when she dont speak and somtime it is nice when she do speak. Becas when she dont speak, Mummy smile and this is very good. Mummy has got a speshul smile and you dont no where it is going to start. Somtime it start from her toes and somtime from her finger and somtime from her tummy and then it pop out of her eye and out of her mouth and this is very nice becas you now it is coming and you wate for it to cume. So it cum like a pressant wich is a big surprise. And wat is nice about Mummy is watever she do is like a pressant. And wen you think about Mummy this is good too. When you think about peple you can think bad thing and narsty thing like hurt and pane and sick, but when you think about Mummy, you cant. And you can only think nice thing that are happy like Mister God. And warm. And how nice to be me, becas if I was not me I would not know, would I?

Oh dear, ther is so many things I wish I culd say, but I do not know how to say becas how can you say about love with a pensel and a paper becas you can not reely. But you can try, cant not you, so I will try.

Love is a very funy thing becas you cant see it and you cant here it and you cant tuch it when it belongs to you. So how do you know you have got it? Well I will tell you. When Neels say to me pretend you have for sweets in one hand and six sweets in another hand, how many have you got? So I say I have not got none, becas I have not and if I say I have got some, it is a lie and this is bad to do. Wen someone say I love you Anna, how do I know if it is true?

Chapter Three (#ulink_27745ec3-f809-53ce-b718-757305d107fa)

The Very Very First (#ulink_27745ec3-f809-53ce-b718-757305d107fa)

The Bible at home was one of those huge brass-bound books. It was from this that Anna read or was read to. Seated at the table she worked her way through some of the passages of the Bible. At school and at church she was told which passages to read; at home she was free to read whatever she wanted to. This meant that she was often puzzled as to the meaning and I had to do my best to help her understand. Trying to understand that Adam knew Eve was not the same as Anna knew Fynn, or that God asked Adam, ‘Who told thee that thou wast naked?’ and caused her many problems.

The more she read the more puzzled she became. Often she was presented with passages that simply did not make sense to her, passages that seemed to contradict other passages. Like Luke 2:23 – ‘Every male that openeth the womb shall be called holy to the Lord.’ And Luke 23:29 – ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bare.’

It seemed to Anna that the Bible was sometimes a bit muddled and that it asked more questions than it answered, but whatever its shortcomings, it was beautiful and since for her beauty was all important, there was no reason why she should not add her own idea of beauty to it.

Perhaps the most exciting thing about Anna was how she always managed to put together to her own satisfaction various ideas that in the normal course of education would have been frowned on. On one occasion she glued together shadows, mathematics, God and sundry ideas, to my delight and her satisfaction. It happened like this –