3. Blackballs

My grandfather's fingers are varnished yellow with nicotine from the roll- your-owns. He wears fireman's braces and a pink singlet. On his bookshelf by the radio he keeps a jar of blackballs.

He dips his yellow fingers into the jar and brings out a blackball. When he sucks it at the side of his mouth it looks like a small protuberance. A ganglion. I would like to have a ganglion in my mouth too and my mouth waters for want of one.

Only rarely does my grandfather give me a blackball.

He grins at me and I can see his orange plastic gums and unnaturally white teeth.

I cannot ask for a blackball.

Children who ask don't get, sniffs my grandmother. Children are seen and not heard.

Children who are seen don't get, either.