I Have No Secrets

by Penny Joelson

  She’s looking at me as if she’s waiting for a response.

  I want to ask, ‘Are you going to stop fostering?’ but I’m too scared. What if she says yes?

  I watch as Mum empties the dishwasher. I feel like I have been emptied too.

  ‘Come on, I’m taking you somewhere,’ says Mum.

  ‘WHERE,’ I sniff.

  ‘Wait and see,’ says Mum.

  I am soon in the car with Mum. I want to know where we’re going. We drive for about ten minutes. I am shocked when she parks outside the police station. Surely there are no more questions. I’ve told the police everything I know. Mum lowers the ramp and wheels me out of the car, pushing me towards the entrance.

  ‘WHY HERE,’ I sniff. ‘GO HOME.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ says Mum.

  Mum speaks to the woman behind the screen and a police officer comes out.

  ‘Mrs Bryant! Jemma! I’m so glad you’re here.’

  I recognise his voice before he comes round in front so I can see him. It’s PC Hunt, the one who said I invented my story. He’s the last person I want to see. He may be glad I’m here, but I’m not.

  ‘Come through,’ he says.

  ‘NO,’ I sniff, but Mum ignores me. PC Hunt smiles at her as he holds a door open and she pushes me through.

  He’s got nothing to smile about as far as I’m concerned.

  He leads us into a room and moves a chair aside to make room for my wheelchair. He holds a chair out for Mum and then sits down opposite us and strokes his chin.

  ‘GO HOME,’ I sniff.

  ‘I can see why you’re not keen to be here,’ says PC Hunt. ‘But I asked your mum to bring you for a reason. I have something important to say to you.’

  I had something important to say to you last week, I think. But look how that turned out.

  ‘I wanted to apologise to you, face to face,’ he says. He’s looking straight into my eyes and he looks serious. ‘This crime has been solved thanks to you. I know you heard some things I said on the phone to your mum, things I should never have said. I’m sorry if I upset you.’

  ‘YOU DID,’ I sniff. I’m not letting him off that easily.

  He smiles awkwardly. ‘You found Sarah – and Dan and Billy are locked up now thanks to your help.’

  ‘I SAID DAN,’ I remind him. ‘NO LISTEN.’

  ‘Yes, you were right – and in more ways than you know.’

  What does he mean? I am interested now.

  ‘Although Dan didn’t actually kill Ryan Blake,’ he goes on, ‘we now believe Dan got Billy to do it for him.’

  I begin to sniff. ‘DAN MADE.’

  PC Hunt nods. ‘Exactly. Dan made Billy do it.’

  Billy has finally agreed to help us with our enquiries. He says he was working for Dan, and Ryan was too. He told us that when Dan found out Ryan was keeping some of the stolen goods he was furious – he wasn’t having it – and told Billy to kill him.’

  ‘Sounds like Dan was a complete control freak,’ says Mum. ‘And yet he could be so charming . . .’

  PC Hunt nods solemnly. ‘Billy is not the brightest lad around. Dan had him wrapped round his finger. Billy admits that he panicked after stabbing Ryan and went running to Dan, who took the knife and said he’d deal with it. He must’ve been visiting Sarah and took the opportunity to stash it in your garden. We’ve charged Dan with conspiracy to murder.’

  ‘I’m just glad you’ve got him,’ says Mum, ‘and Billy too.’

  ‘Jemma,’ says PC Hunt. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I was wrong.’

  I am shocked. He actually means it.

  ‘But you didn’t give up – you were determined to prove your theory right. And you did! We’ll do our best to make sure Dan and Billy are both locked up for a long time. I hope you can forgive me, Jemma.’

  I am stunned. I don’t know what to say. His eyes look desperate now, pleading with me to let him off the hook. I didn’t think he cared, but now I believe he does.

  ‘OK,’ I sniff.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, his shoulders sinking with clear relief. ‘That means a lot.’

  54

  I’ve realised something important. Being able to communicate doesn’t mean that anyone’s going to listen. The one thing I didn’t want to happen is happening and there is nothing I can say to stop it.

  ‘I know you’re upset that I’m leaving,’ Sarah sighs. ‘And . . . look, I want to be honest with you. What’s happened – it’s changed everything for me. I’m sorry, Jemma, but it’s only fair to tell you – I don’t think I’m going to be coming back to work here.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I glimpse the dark shapes of her cases in the hall. She’s already said goodbye to Finn, though I don’t think he has any idea what’s going on.

  ‘It’s not easy for me and I know it must be very upsetting for you,’ Sarah continues, ‘especially after you rescued me so brilliantly!’

  ‘YES,’ I sniff.

  ‘I want to explain. I want you to understand,’ she tells me. ‘I haven’t changed the way I feel about you. I still care about you. I still love you, Jemma.’

  ‘GET BETTER COME BACK,’ I sniff.

  Sarah shakes her head. She looks like she’s going to cry. ‘It’s just that . . . what’s happened, it’s made me realise . . . I’ve been hiding here in a way. This isn’t actually my family, though I’ve kind of been pretending that it was.’

  She wipes a tear from her eye. ‘One day I’d like to have my own family and maybe be a foster parent like Lorraine. I think being here has been an excuse to not grow up – and what’s happened these last few weeks has made me grow up – fast. Do you understand, Jemma?’

  Of course I do. What she’s saying does make sense. I’ve just been fighting it. I want her to stay so much. I don’t reply.

  ‘And maybe,’ she continues, ‘it’s not so good for you to be so dependent on me. I know you need care, but other carers might be just as good or better – or different anyway, and give you different experiences.’

  I’d love to tell her about Rosie. I don’t want other carers, even though Sheralyn’s been OK. I want Sarah.

  ‘I don’t want to stop you growing up and experiencing new things. And this sniff controller – it’s amazing! It’s going to change your life completely. You will have so much more control.’

  I know she’s right – you can’t always keep things the same. I think about Jodi – new experiences can be good. I think about my future now I can communicate, all the possibilities. But . . .

  ‘Tell me you understand. Please?’

  Part of me wants to – but the rest of me refuses. I know it’s selfish, but I want her to stay.

  She strokes my hand. She looks at the sniff-controller screen – but I am not sniffing.

  Then she looks at me and I see the pain in her face. She has been through so much. Suddenly I see I am hurting her and I don’t want to do that.

  ‘Please, Jemma?’

  Sarah waits patiently while I sniff each letter.

  ‘YES,’ I sniff. ‘LOVE YOU SARAH.’

  Then as she hears the words spoken, she leans forward to hug me as best she can. I feel the wetness of her face as she kisses my cheek. I am crying too.

  She lets go. The she gets a tissue and gently wipes my eyes. ‘I’ll keep in touch, Jemma, I promise. Your dad says you’ll be able to text and email with this thing. It’ll be great!’

  She gives me her warmest smile and walks towards the door.

  ‘BYE SARAH,’ I sniff.

  And she has gone.

  55

  Nine months later

  I’m being pushed in my wheelchair and I am surrounded by people. I have never seen so many people and they all seem so tall and so close I feel like me and my chair are going to disappear under the crowd – flattened on the pavement. I’m trying not to be scared.

  My new carer Alice is pushing me. I was anxious before she started, but I was surprised to find I actually liked her s
traight away. I had wanted it to be just me and Jodi, but the good thing is that, as Alice is pushing me, Jodi can walk beside me. Now and then she squeezes my hand. I catch the glint of her midnight-blue nail polish and look with pleasure at my own matching nails. I think of Sarah – that day when she did my nails, the awful things that followed. It feels so long ago now.

  I didn’t realise it would be so far. We seem to go on and on. I’m glad it’s not raining.

  ‘I cannot believe we’re really here!’ says Jodi.

  I’ve talked so much to Jodi. We meet up every weekend. Mum and Dad decided not to take a break from fostering, to my relief. They asked me if I’d like to go to Carlstone College in a few years’ time and I do. Mum’s finding out about applying for a place, but I don’t know if I’ll get funding. In the meantime I’ve started going to a mainstream school for part of the week. I was really nervous, but Jodi encouraged me to try it. I wanted to go to her school, but the council said a nearer one was more suitable. So I tried it – and I love it! It’s not easy, but I have a teaching assistant to help me and everything is so interesting. At first I was doing two days a week there and now I’m doing three.

  I have new communication software and I’ve had lots of training with a speech therapist who specialises in AAC. She’s been brilliant and now I can select words and phrases from categories rather than spelling everything out. It’s still very slow, but faster than typing each letter. I know it will take time, but I want to do my exams and go to university – just like Jodi plans to do.

  I am also going on a sailing trip for teenagers with disabilities. Alice loves watersports and she told me she used to help on sailing holidays as a volunteer. I searched the Internet using my sniff controller and I found out more about it myself, and I’ve already been on a day’s sailing course. It was amazing! Beats the local park, any day.

  And Olivia came home! Mum and Dad were keen to have her and I told the social workers I wanted to give Olivia a chance too. It was weird how much I missed her in the weeks she was away. Her social worker has organised some therapy for her. She’s a bit quieter than she was, but not much, and she still has tantrums. She talks to me sometimes, though, and it’s wonderful to be able to talk back. She’s still going to ballet lessons too. Olivia never explained why she took the money. She said she ‘didn’t know’ and ‘just wanted it’.

  Finn seemed happier when Olivia came back. He is doing better, though it’s not always easy to tell with him. He hasn’t done any head-banging for months, at least. Mum hopes one day that he’ll be able to communicate too.

  I’ve had a few emails from Sarah. She’s still living with her sister and she says they’re getting on really well. I miss her, but I’m glad – because I have my sister and Sarah is with hers too. She finally split up with Richard. I hope she’ll find someone who will be right for her one day.

  Next month is Dan’s court case for kidnapping her. He’s pleading not guilty, but the police have plenty of evidence against him. Dan and Billy’s case for Ryan’s murder will be soon too. They may show my video in court. If they do it will be the first time someone has given evidence using a sniff controller.

  I suddenly realise we have arrived. This place is massive! Jodi is speaking to someone who’s wearing a hat and looks like he works here. She’s pointing to my wheelchair and asking which way to go.

  We go up in a lift. First stop is the disabled toilets. Now we are back with Jodi and searching for the way through. So many people!

  Jodi leads the way through an entrance labelled Block C and Alice pushes me quickly after her. We’re at the front of a balcony in a wheelchair space with seats either side. I can’t believe how vast this place is. It’s a huge oval shape and I can see rows and rows of people below and across the other side who look as small as insects!

  ‘You OK, Jemma?’ Alice asks, moving round to face me.

  ‘Thirsty. Please can I have a drink?’ I sniff.

  Alice reads the words as they appear and I don’t bother to press the speaker. It is so noisy in here that I don’t think she’d hear – even with the volume on full.

  ‘Of course,’ says Alice. She rummages in the bag for my drink and opens it. It’s taken a while, but I’m getting used to being able to ask for what I want.

  Once I’ve had a drink, Alice gently puts small earplugs in my ears. ‘No!’ I sniff. I am worried I won’t hear properly.

  ‘You’ll need them!’ Alice tells me and Jodi nods in agreement.

  ‘Seriously, Jemma. It’s SO loud!’ she warns me.

  ‘Exciting!’ I sniff.

  Jodi smiles back.

  Then suddenly – there they are. They look so small on that faraway stage, but the screens are big so I can see their faces clearly. Glowlight! It is really them. I see Leo! My heart thuds. He is gorgeous.

  The music starts. It is like a musical thunderstorm. The beat is so loud and the vibration so strong I can feel it in every bone of my body. Then the voices. It is so loud – so incredible. I sing along in my head. I catch a glimpse of Jodi’s ecstatic face. She squeezes my hand.

  I am here at a Glowlight concert with my sister.

  She is glowing.

  I am alight!

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When I began to write this book, I had not decided how Jemma was going to be able communicate, although I knew she would need to by the end! Advances in technology have made communication possible for many more disabled people. However, there are lots of people who do not have access to this technology or are unable to use it for various reasons.

  The device that Jemma uses in the book is inspired by a real invention, developed by researchers at the Weizmann Institute. Trials have shown that some severely disabled people and people with locked-in syndrome, for whom other systems have not worked, have been able to use this device. And as a relatively inexpensive product it has the potential to make AAC technology accessible for more people than ever before. It has not yet gone into production, but my hope is that by raising awareness, this book may help to persuade a company to take this up and make it commercially available. I dream that one day everyone who has the potential to communicate will have access to the equipment they need.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Firstly, I would like to thank my lovely agent Anne Clark. I couldn’t ask for a better agent and your commitment to this book has been wonderful. I am so lucky too to have brilliant editors in Stella Paskins and Liz Bankes at Egmont. Your skillful editing, enthusiasm and excitement about the book has been amazing. Thank you to the whole team at Egmont!

  I am eternally grateful to all those people who took the time to answer my questions, and to read the manuscript and give feedback at various stages. Any errors are my own and not the fault of anyone acknowledged here.

  For help with cerebral palsy and AAC information I am especially grateful to Jonathan Kaye, Ellie Simpson of CPTeens, and Debbie Simpson, Natasha Bello, Julie Bello and Kate McCallum from 1Voice, Kate Caryer from Communication Matters and UnspokenTheatre, and Jenny Herd from Communication Matters. Thanks also to Carl Ritchie, Joan Ritchie and Kevin Robinson who answered police related questions for me.

  From the Weizmann Institute I would like to thank Lee Sela and Noam Sobel for answering many questions about their recently developed communication device.

  I would not be the writer I am without the fabulous City Lit where I started out as a student and now teach. From there I formed my own Friday writing workshop, with talented writers Jo Barnes, Angela Kanter, Vivien Boyes and Derek Rhodes. Your constructive criticism and support has meant so much to me. I’d also like to thank my young adult beta readers, including those found for me by Janis Inwood, librarian at Southgate School, where I was educated, and Jessica Pliskin whose excellent suggestion really helped.

  My family – every one of you, I thank you for your support – and especially my husband Adam for all his love and for putting up with my mind being elsewhere a lot of the time (and for his helpful suggestio
n, gratefully received and ignored, that I should write about zombies). Final thanks go to our children Michael and Zoe, to whom this book is dedicated. I know you are annoyed at not being old enough to read it yet – but you will be, one day, and I enjoy watching you grow so, so much.