Mum stood up, a steely look on her face. I knew that look and for once I was glad of it. Mum was leaving and nothing and no one could stop her. Dad stood up and put his arm around her before helping her, then me off the raised platform where we sat. I could hear the murmurs of disapproval and protest as we left the table.
‘Ladies and gendemen, Dr Ehrlich and I will be more than happy to answer any further questions you may have,’ Dr Bryce soothed. ‘And I have a very important announcement to make. Today I can formally announce that my clinic’s next xenotransplant will take place next week.’ Everyone was on their feet shouting questions at that, but I let it wash over me. The man who had ushered us to the table appeared to show us across the studio to the exit. As we walked past the chairs, I risked a glance at the reporters. It was feeding time at the zoo again. They were devouring me with their eyes. A man pushed forward and stuffed a white envelope into my hand. Another woman knocked over her chair in her effort to get to me. She handed me a large brown envelope. I frowned down at the letters in my hand. What was all this about? And then we were outside the studio. The air felt cooler. I leaned against the wall and took several relieved deep breaths.
‘Thank you for attending the press conference.’ The man with the headset shook Mum and Dad’s hands. ‘I’ll just retrieve your mikes.’ I unclipped the mike, pulled it out from under my shirt and handed it back to him. He smiled at me. ‘You did very well, Cameron.’
I didn’t answer.
‘Anyway, take care and good luck to all of you. Take the lift over there down to the ground floor. The receptionist will make sure the car is here to take you home.’
‘Thanks,’ Dad replied.
‘Is that it, Dad?’ I asked. ‘D’you think they’ll leave us alone now?’
Mum and Dad looked at each other.
‘Let’s hope so, Cameron,’ Dad replied grimly. ‘Let’s hope so.’
Chapter Seventeen
Offers
When we finally got home, I have to admit, I was dog-tired. I put it down to the anxiety of going on the telly for the first time – and the last, if I had my way. There was still a crowd outside our house: it wasn’t as big as the day before, but it was big enough. My heart sank at the prospect of us having to fight our way through yet more people. Luckily there were also two policemen I hadn’t seen before near our house. They made a bee-line for us.
‘Am I glad to see you! How come you’re still here?’ asked Dad.
‘Sergeant Dexter thought a couple of us had better stay here to make sure the crowd behaves,’ said one of the policemen.
We were escorted through the crowd into our house. On the way a woman shouted out to me, ‘Can I shake your hand, Cameron?’
I was so surprised that a perfect stranger should want to shake my grubby hand that I actually put it out. Only then did I realize I was still holding the two envelopes I’d been given at the TV studio. I’d forgotten all about them. I switched them to my other hand.
The woman beamed at me. ‘Good luck!’
I smiled back, unsure of what to say. We entered our house. The police stayed outside.
‘Cathy, would you like a cup of peppermint tea?’ Dad asked.
‘Yes, please.’ Mum sighed gratefully. ‘What a day!’
‘I’ll massage your feet as well if you like,’ said Dad.
Rather him than me! ‘What about my feet?’ I asked.
‘Your cheesy feet! You must be joking. You’ve got two hands, haven’t you?’ said Dad. ‘Get on with it!’
So that was that! Not that I’d expected anything else. I tore open the first envelope, wondering what was so important. I started to read, and the more I read the more amazed I became. I literally couldn’t believe my eyes. I read it again, thinking that maybe someone was playing a joke on us.
‘Cam, what’s the matter?’ asked Mum.
Stunned, I looked up at her. I handed her the letter without a word. Mum’s expression mirrored my own as she started to read.
‘My eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, are they?’ I whispered.
‘What’s going on?’ Dad asked.
‘This newspaper is offering us thousands of pounds for our story.’ Mum handed Dad the letter. ‘They want our exclusive story and unlimited access to Cameron for the next year.’
As Dad read the letter, I tore open the second letter that had been thrust into my hands.
‘Yes!’ I squealed with delight. ‘We’re rich! This newspaper is offering even more money than the first one.’
Mum snatched the letter out of my hand. I started dancing around the hall. ‘We’re rich! We’re rich! I can get a mountain bike with twenty-four gears! I could get a car if I wanted to.’
A slow, burning frown crept over Mum’s face. Dad stared at me.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
Anyone would think the roof had just blown off rather than not one but two offers of tons of money in the very same day. Mum and Dad looked at each other. Without saying a word, they both proceeded to tear each offer into shreds.
‘What’re you doing? Are you mad?’ I stared at the bits of paper Mum was piling into Dad’s cupped hands. I followed Dad as he walked into the living room and dumped the whole lot into the wastepaper bin. I fell to my knees and scrambled in the bin to fish the pieces out again.
‘Cameron, get up. Now.’ Dad used a tone of voice that I’d never heard before. It stopped me cold. I looked up at him. His eyes were sparking with anger. Anger directed solely at me. ‘Get off your knees.’
I stood up, although I could hardly drag my eyes away from the bin. ‘But, Dad, that’s a lot of money.’
‘I don’t care if they offer ten times as much, my answer would still be the same. I’m not letting the papers or the telly or anyone else into our lives like that.’
‘But . . . but . . . I don’t understand.’
‘Cameron, your dad and I want this family to get back to normal as soon as possible,’ said Mum. ‘We want our lives to get back to the way they were – private and ours. We can hardly say we want our privacy if we let a tabloid plaster our faces and our whole lives over its front page, now can we?’
‘But what about all that money?’ I couldn’t believe that Mum and Dad would pass up on opportunity like this. ‘They’re going to pay us a fortune.’
‘Not if we say no, they’re not,’ said Mum.
‘But you can’t say no. You just can’t. We could have a new house and a new car and anything we want.’
‘We have a roof over our heads, bread on the table and each other. What more do we want?’ Dad smiled.
‘I’m being serious.’ I was practically shouting by now. I couldn’t help it. All that money had danced in front of me and now, because of Mum and Dad, it was dancing away out of reach. ‘If we don’t take the money, they’ll just give it to the next transplant patient Dr Bryce talked about. That’s our money.’
Dad’s smile disappeared. ‘That is not our money, Cameron. The press aren’t getting our story ’cos we have nothing to tell them.’
‘They want my story, not yours. You don’t have a story.’ Fury sat like a boulder on my chest. ‘By rights that’s my money, not yours. You’ve got no right to say no. I want—’
‘Cameron, that’s enough.’ Mum frowned. ‘We said no, and that’s final.’
‘I hate you. I hate both of you,’ I shouted.
And I ran up the stairs to my bedroom as fast as I could. I didn’t stop until I threw myself on the bed, every part of my body clenched and angry. I waited to hear footsteps climbing the stairs. At any moment now Mum and Dad would come into my room and tell me that if I really wanted to give my story to the papers, they’d let me do it. Any second now . . .
But there were no footsteps. My bedroom door didn’t open. I sat up on my bed and watched the door. Dr Bryce had given me a new lease of life and, just like that, Mum and Dad were determined to ruin it. Images of money swirled around me. Notes, up to the ceiling. Five- and ten- and
twenty- and fifty-pound notes spread out as far as the eye could see, and it could’ve all been mine.
How could they? I would never, ever forgive them. Not if I lived to be 150.
‘Cameron, come on downstairs for your dinner.’ Mum popped her head around my door.
‘I’m not hungry.’ I didn’t look up from my book.
I’d been in my bedroom for over two hours now and I had no intention of coming out for the rest of the night. I sensed rather than saw Mum come over and sit on the bottom of my bed.
‘Did you speak to Alex today?’ Mum asked me unexpectedly.
‘No.’ I looked at her. ‘Why?’
‘I think you should,’ said Mum. ‘I think you should tell Alex exactly what’s going on.’
‘I don’t need to any more.’ I frowned. ‘I’m going to be around for a good while yet.’
‘I know. But you can still tell Alex all about the months before he or she is born.’
‘I thought that but then I thought maybe it was tempting fate,’ I said doubtfully.
‘A lot of things are going to happen to all of us in the next few months. Some good. Some bad. You’ll never have another opportunity like this to let Alex know what’s going on in our lives. I think you’ll kick yourself if you miss this chance.’
‘I . . . I’ll think about it,’ I replied.
Mum smiled. ‘Fine.’ She stood up and walked to the door. ‘I’ll keep your dinner in the oven for you, just in case you change your mind.’
‘I won’t.’
‘We’ll see,’ was all she said.
‘Mum, I’m sorry I said I hated you and Dad,’ I mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘I know. But that’s why you have to be careful about money.’
‘Money being the root of all evil,’ I supplied dismissively. The last thing I wanted from Mum was a morality lecture.
‘Money can do a lot of good things. Money isn’t the root of all evil. Love of money is the root of all evil,’ Mum amended. ‘You think about what happened when we told you we were going to turn down those offers made by the newspapers. You turned into someone else – someone I could barely recognize. You’ll have to watch that, Cameron. Hold on to the things that mattered before your operation.’
I frowned at Mum. I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
‘Cameron, you’re a very special boy. Your dad and I love you very much – we always have and we always will. But now lots of people are going to say you’re only special because of your operation. They’ll want to throw money at you and goodness only knows what else. But don’t let them, or you’ll start to believe that the only thing about you that’s worth anything is your new heart. And then the true you will get lost. D’you understand?’
I shook my head.
‘Never mind. Maybe one day you will. See you downstairs,’ Mum said. And she shut the door behind her.
I felt really strange once Mum had left. I stood up and walked over to my dressing table. Staring at myself in the mirror, I replayed in my head everything that had happened downstairs. Everything I’d said, everything I’d done. I thought over what Mum had just said, grasping to understand what she’d tried to tell me. But the more I thought about it, the more confused I felt. I took the camcorder bag out from under my bed.
Hi, Alex,
It’s me again. We’ve just come back from a press conference. My first and last, I hope. Dr Bryce didn’t put a foot wrong. I didn’t put a foot right. Dr Bryce talked about me as if I was just a piece of machinery on an assembly line.
The first of many. Bring them on. Next!
That’s how I felt when he was talking. But then, what did I expect? I don’t know. Maybe I expected him to refer to me more. Maybe I expected him to refer to me less. Maybe I wanted to be special, unique. I don’t know. All I know is, it was hot and bright under the lights and after a while I began to feel very sick. I was glad to get out of there. On the way out, two journalists stuffed envelopes into my hand. And guess what? Two newspapers offered me thousands and thousands for my story.
Me! Can you imagine?
But Mum and Dad said no and put the letters in the bin. I hit the roof. I mean, I went absolutely ballistic. All I could see was the money I was losing. It was as if they were stealing it out of my pocket – which of course they weren’t. I can’t believe how I blew up at them. I mean, I still don’t see why we can’t just take the money, give the papers a couple of interviews and laugh all the way to the bank, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I don’t know what came over me.
Yes, I do.
I think I became blinded by the pound signs in my eyes. It was a lot of money. Ah well! At least one day I’ll be able to look back and say I was offered a fortune for my life story. Me! There’s not many people who can say that!
I think I’ll shut up now. I’m hungry. I’m going to go down for my dinner.
Talk to you soon!
‘Mum, where’s my dinner?’
Mum and Dad exchanged a smile.
‘In the oven. Hungry now?’
‘Starving.’
‘Are you going to eat it with us?’ asked Dad.
I frowned. ‘Where else would I eat it?’
‘Just wondered,’ Dad said in a fake off-hand manner.
‘Sorry about earlier,’ I mumbled, and sat down.
‘Your dinner’s in the oven,’ Mum repeated pointedly.
‘Oh! And I’m big enough and ugly enough to get it myself, eh?’ I stood up again.
Mum and Dad laughed. ‘You said that,’ said Dad. ‘We didn’t!’
Chapter Eighteen
School
It was early Monday morning and we still had a crowd outside our house – although it seemed that Mum was right: the crowd was dwindling. Mind you, they still weren’t disappearing fast enough for my liking.
‘Am I going to have to walk through that lot to get to school?’ I said, frowning out of the front-room window.
‘No. Until this whole thing blows over, your dad or I will take you to school,’ said Mum.
‘But Dad’s gone to work.’
‘So I’ll drive you today.’
‘You’ll drive me?’
‘Yes. I can drive, you know. I have passed my test.’
‘But that was when you had to crank up the engine from the front of the car to start it!’ I scoffed. ‘And you hate driving!’
‘Well, I’ll just have to learn to love it, won’t I? The police have recommended that that’s what we do until all those people outside our house get a life.’ Mum sighed.
‘But why go to all this bother?’
Mum looked away from me. She couldn’t meet my eyes and, in that instant, I knew that something was very wrong.
‘Mum . . . ?’
‘Come on, we’d better get going. You don’t want to be late on your first day back at school.’
I watched Mum but I didn’t say anything. This was totally unlike her. Mum believed in straight talk and no nonsense. Say what you mean and mean what you say, that was her motto. She was the last one to hide anything from me but that’s what was happening.
‘Won’t some of these journalists and rubber-neckers be at school too?’ I asked.
‘They have to stay outside the school grounds or they’ll be arrested. Journalists have to get school and local authority permission before they can go onto the school premises,’ Mum told me. ‘In fact, you’ll probably get more privacy at school than in this house.’
Silence.
‘Are you all right, Mum?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘What about Alex?’
Mum patted her pregnant bulge. ‘Alex is fine too. You’ve given yourself your anti-rejection injection?’
‘Yes, Mum. And I’ve taken my tablets and my medicine.’ Mum asked me that question every morning without fail.
‘Then we’d better go. Are you ready, Cam?’
I nodded. Something was going on. The question was what? I didn’t a
sk and Mum wasn’t going to say but I was determined to find out.
‘Cameron, how are you?’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘We saw you on the telly!’
From the moment I walked into school I was surrounded by my friends and others who’d never had one word to say to me before. Although it was embarrassing, in a strange way it was also quite nice! I was the centre of attention. I was special. A couple of kids even asked me for my autograph. It was bizarre!
‘I saw you on telly, weed!’ Travis pushed his way through the crowd to stand in front of me. ‘I was surprised you had the guts.’
‘My name is Cameron, not weed,’ I told him. ‘And I’ve got guts and a lot more besides. Now, could you shift, you’re in my way.’
Travis looked around. ‘Well, you’re braver than me.’ I stared at him. That was the very last thing I’d expected him to say. ‘I don’t know if I could’ve done what you did,’ he continued.
‘You couldn’t, muscle-head!’ I told him without hesitation. ‘Excuse me.’ I swept past him in the best royal fashion. The monarchy would’ve been proud of me! If Travis thought we could be friends now, he had another thought coming. Not after all the grief he’d given me over the last year!
I didn’t so much walk as allow myself to be swept along to class by the crowd of people around me. And then I saw him – Marlon. I stopped and we both just looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say or do – so I said and did nothing. I walked past him without a word. Even as I was doing it, I wanted to stop and go back and say sorry and laugh and have everything just as it’d been before. But then I was angry with myself. Why should I apologize? He was the one who should say sorry, not me! And I had the image of the front page of the Daily Press in my head to prove it. So why was I so upset?
By the time Mr Stewart arrived I had so many people around me, I couldn’t move.
‘Anyone who’s not in my class can leave – NOW!’ Mr Stewart bellowed out.
To be honest, I was glad to see him. All those people surrounding me and asking question after question made me feel as if I was being pecked to bits. Without ceremony, Mr Stewart ushered out all those who shouldn’t have been in his class.
Pig-Heart Boy Page 11
