Jimmie’s Mum Character Analysis

Her mum had written down each and every word in that book, and one day Jimmie would read them and hear her mum’s voice again. So she didn’t pack the book into the boxes with the other things.

That was three years ago. She still can’t read the words. Still can’t hear her mum’s voice.

‘Subhi. I don’t want it to end. I want this to last.’

I hand back that book without another word. I get it. I don’t want my ba’s stories to ever end either. ‘Good thing you don’t know them then,’ the duck says quietly. ‘They can’t end if they never start.’ He thinks he’s being funny.

Queeny says they only do it so that I shut up for a bit and stop pestering them for more stories. She reckons the only time I’m ever quiet is when I’m being told a story. But Queeny doesn’t get it. I need these stories. Everyone else in here has memories to hold on to. Everyone else has things to think on to stop them getting squashed down to nothing. But I don’t have memories of anywhere else, and all these days just squish into the same. I need their stories. I need them to make my memories.

Harvey says that drawing down the stories for the oldies is important. He says it’s like I’m making the oldies their very own blanket to wrap themselves up in and keep them warm and safe.

I look at Harvey. I think of Oto and Anka and Iliya and Ba and Maá and Queeny and Eli and all of us. All of them all that time ago, and all of us now. Just trying to find somewhere to be safe. Just walking our journey to peace. I can hear Queeny’s words in my head and now they make sense. I get it now.

‘We’re the dead rats, Harvey. Just like Queeny said. Left out to rot so no one else bothers to try. There’s no keeping safe for us.’

Harvey looks at me like he’s never seen me before. But he doesn’t say I’m wrong.

Her mum had written down each and every word in that book, and one day Jimmie would read them and hear her mum’s voice again. So she didn’t pack the book into the boxes with the other things.

That was three years ago. She still can’t read the words. Still can’t hear her mum’s voice.

‘Subhi. I don’t want it to end. I want this to last.’

I hand back that book without another word. I get it. I don’t want my ba’s stories to ever end either. ‘Good thing you don’t know them then,’ the duck says quietly. ‘They can’t end if they never start.’ He thinks he’s being funny.

Queeny says they only do it so that I shut up for a bit and stop pestering them for more stories. She reckons the only time I’m ever quiet is when I’m being told a story. But Queeny doesn’t get it. I need these stories. Everyone else in here has memories to hold on to. Everyone else has things to think on to stop them getting squashed down to nothing. But I don’t have memories of anywhere else, and all these days just squish into the same. I need their stories. I need them to make my memories.

Harvey says that drawing down the stories for the oldies is important. He says it’s like I’m making the oldies their very own blanket to wrap themselves up in and keep them warm and safe.

I look at Harvey. I think of Oto and Anka and Iliya and Ba and Maá and Queeny and Eli and all of us. All of them all that time ago, and all of us now. Just trying to find somewhere to be safe. Just walking our journey to peace. I can hear Queeny’s words in my head and now they make sense. I get it now.

‘We’re the dead rats, Harvey. Just like Queeny said. Left out to rot so no one else bothers to try. There’s no keeping safe for us.’

Harvey looks at me like he’s never seen me before. But he doesn’t say I’m wrong.