I read, and that was absolutely fine, but it did feel a bit lonely. I was wildly excited at the thought of going into town with Cecy and wandering round the shops just like a normal person. I phoned her up on my mobile and asked her if she’d like to go with me straight after her dancing lesson.
‘We could have lunch in McDonald’s. On me. I’ve got heaps of pocket money because I haven’t been able to go out to spend any of it. Oh God, my mouth’s watering just at the thought of a Big Mac and fries!’ I said excitedly.
‘Yes, that would be great,’ said Cecy, but she sounded uncertain. ‘So is your dad taking us?’
‘No, of course not. We’ll go on our own. We’re allowed now,’ I said.
We’d been into town twice on our own during the summer term. Izzie and Mrs Hall had reluctantly agreed, although they’d fussed terribly and made us promise not to talk to any strangers and only cross the road at the traffic lights, as if we were tiny tots.
‘Yes, I know we’re allowed – but that was before,’ said Cecy.
‘Before what?’ I said sharply, though of course I knew what she meant.
‘Well, you know,’ Cecy said awkwardly. ‘But hey, yes, let’s. It’ll be such fun. We could walk there and I could push your wheelchair if you get tired.’
‘We can get the bus,’ I said.
‘Yeah. Fine. Right. It’s a date,’ said Cecy.
But ten minutes later I heard Izzie’s mobile ringing in the kitchen and a long conversation. Then she came into my room. She looked at me worriedly.
‘I’m going,’ I said fiercely. ‘You mustn’t fuss. I’ll be all right.’
‘I know,’ said Izzie. ‘But Cecy’s mum isn’t at all happy about it. She says no.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’
‘She thinks it might be too much responsibility for Cecy. And, to be fair, I can see her point,’ said Izzie. ‘I’m sorry, Katy. I can see how much you were looking forward to it.’
I bent my head so she couldn’t see my teary eyes. I clenched my fists. I wanted to howl and lash out. I waited, fighting for control. Izzie came and stood beside me and gently rubbed the back of my wrist.
I sniffed hard. ‘Could you come too then, Izzie? That’ll reassure Mrs Fusspot Hall.’
‘Well, she said that they had plans for Saturday afternoon anyway, some visit to a friend or an aunt or someone,’ Izzie said uncomfortably.
‘A fictitious friend or aunt?’ I said.
‘Perhaps. How do we know?’
‘Izzie, could I go with Clover? I’d sooner go with Clover.’
‘I think I’m going to do a Mrs Hall on you, Katy. Clover would love it, of course she would, but she’s only ten, and quite young for her age. I think she’d panic a bit if there was any slight hitch. But I could accompany both of you. I’ll walk way behind so that no one will know I’m keeping an eye on you,’ said Izzie.
‘Oh, you’re a darling,’ I said, and I really meant it.
We set off on Saturday, Izzie and Clover and me – and Elsie. I decided we might as well ask her along too.
‘Oh Katy, yes please! I’d love to come! I’ll bring all my pocket money and I’ll buy you the bestest present ever, Katy. This means I’m one of the big girls, doesn’t it? I’m not one of the littlies any more, am I? I’m truly big, aren’t I, Katy?’
‘You’re almost as big as me,’ I said. ‘In fact, you’re bigger now I’m stuck in my wheelchair. You tower over me. You’re the big girl and I’m the littlie.’
‘You’ll always be the biggest, Katy,’ said Clover. ‘You’re still the boss of all of us.’
‘Even me,’ said Izzie.
So on Saturday we went shopping while Dad stayed at home looking after Dorry, Jonnie and Phil. He did offer to drive us into the town centre – we could just about all squash in if I transferred into the front seat and we collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the boot.
‘It’s sweet of you, darling, but I think we’ll have a girls-only trip,’ said Izzie. ‘We’re going to shop until we drop.’
‘Do you want to go with them then, Jonnie?’ Dad asked.
‘No fear! I hate shopping,’ said Jonnie.
‘I like it. I especially like that food court at the Flowerfields shopping centre,’ said Dorry. ‘You lot could go shopping and leave me in the food court if you like.’
‘I think not, chubby chops,’ said Izzie, fondly squeezing his cheeks.
Dad suggested that the littlies might like to go for a special hike in Oxshott Woods.
‘I don’t think I like hiking,’ Dorry whined.
‘But you will like a little picnic in the sandpit when we’ve had our exercise,’ said Dad. ‘In fact, you can be in charge of making the picnic, Dorry. I bet you’d like that.’
We left them preparing a mound of exotic sandwiches invented by Dorry: traffic light ones of strawberry, lemon curd and greengage jam; cream cheese and banana and honey; and ham and apricot jam.
Izzie, Clover, Elsie and I set off down the road for the bus stop. It felt so strange to be going along the pavement again. The curtains twitched next door and I saw Mrs Burton’s pale moon face peering out. I waved to her. She shut the curtains quickly, but when we were down the road a bit we heard her calling.
‘Mrs Carr! Katy! Little girls!’ Her voice was squeaky, as if it needed oiling. Perhaps she wasn’t used to talking to anyone.
We stopped politely and went back to say hello.
‘Oh my goodness, it’s good to see you up and about,’ she said, patting my knee with her little claw hands.
‘Well. I’m not up. But I am about,’ I said.
‘I’ve been so worried about you. Dr Carr came round to reassure me. He said you’ve made splendid progress, but oh dear, oh dear, you’re still having to use a wheelchair! Does he have any idea when you’ll be able to walk again?’ she asked anxiously.
There was an awkward pause. Clover and Elsie exchanged glances, looking agonized. Izzie cleared her throat, ready to say something, but couldn’t seem to get any words out. It was up to me.
‘It doesn’t look as if I’ll ever be able to walk again,’ I said flatly.
‘Oh my Lord, you poor little lamb,’ Mrs Burton gasped. ‘Crippled at such a young age!’
‘Still, Katy’s managing wonderfully,’ said Izzie. ‘We’re very proud of her. Well, we’d better be off. We have a bus to catch.’
We set off again. Clover and Elsie were still looking at me worriedly. I was smarting, but I knew old Mrs Burton didn’t mean to be offensive.
‘Baa!’ I said. ‘Baa, baa, baa.’
They looked at me as if I’d gone mad. Then Clover chuckled.
‘You’re being a poor little lamb!’ she said.
It was a silly joke but they all laughed heartily with relief. It was awkward waiting at the bus stop. Several other old ladies looked at me pityingly, shaking their heads and tutting to themselves, and a little kid Philly’s age said loudly to his mum, ‘Why is that great big girl in a buggy?’
She hissed at him to be quiet, which made him ask it even louder. Then a girl in Clover’s class at school joined the queue with her nan and stared at me, open-mouthed.
‘What’s up with your sister, Clover?’ she asked right in front of me, as if I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
‘Nothing’s up with her,’ said Clover, going pink. ‘She’s just had an accident, that’s all.’
I was getting a bit sick of all this attention. When the nan wasn’t looking I pulled a ferocious face at the Year Six girl, crossing my eyes and lolling my tongue. She veered away from me, panicking. It cheered me up a little.
‘Here’s the bus coming at last,’ said Izzie, sounding relieved. ‘I’d better go first, girls, and ask the driver to let down the ramp thing.’
But the driver sucked his teeth at her. ‘Hmm, don’t think it’s possible, love,’ he said.
‘What? You must have a ramp,’ said Izzie.
‘Oh yes, I’ve got one all right, but I’ve
no space inside the bus, see. I’ve got three buggies crammed in already. You’ll have to try the next bus,’ he said.
‘But that’s ridiculous. Can’t the buggies be folded up? Surely my daughter takes priority here?’ said Izzie indignantly.
‘Sorry, love. It’s first come, first served. There’ll be another bus along in ten minutes,’ he said.
‘This is outrageous. I shall report this!’ said Izzie.
‘Report all you like, dear,’ said the bus driver. ‘Come on, folks. On you hop.’
So they all filed on and we were left helpless at the bus stop.
‘What a whatsit!’ said Izzie. She used another word beginning with w instead of whatsit. A word that was strictly forbidden in our family. Clover and Elsie giggled in astonishment. ‘Well, he is,’ said Izzie. ‘He should have insisted those mums collapse their buggies. They could easily have their babies on their laps. What are we supposed to do? I can’t very well sit with you on my lap, Katy, now can I? And what happens if the next bus is full of buggies, and the one after?’
‘Well, if they won’t let us on the next bus then we’ll just have to walk,’ I said.
‘But it’s too far for you to wheel yourself. Your hands won’t hold out. You’ll get blisters,’ said Izzie.
‘Then maybe you’ll all have to take turns wheeling me,’ I said, though I’d always wanted to show I could wheel myself independently.
‘Oooh yes, Katy! Let me wheel you first!’ said Elsie, though her little stick arms could barely make me budge.
But it didn’t come to that. The next bus had a much nicer driver, though he kept up a stream of patter that was annoying to say the least, but I made myself smile because I could see he meant well.
‘Oh, here comes little Queenie in her chariot. Hold your horses, madam, and I’ll roll out the red carpet for you,’ he said.
He operated his ramp and I managed to shunt myself up it by myself, though I was a bit scared I might tip backwards. There were buggies in the wheelchair space in this bus too, but a mum immediately darted forward and collapsed hers so I could just about squeeze into the space. I was horribly aware of people staring at me. It seemed so awful that I couldn’t go anywhere anonymously any more. People would always be peering at me, even if it was simply in sympathy. I felt my cheeks burn. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I wanted to go back to being ordinary Katy again, where no one gave me a second glance – or if they did it was because I was mouthing off, or had a fit of the giggles.
I even felt suddenly angry with my own family. I didn’t want Izzie to be so gentle and forbearing with me all the time, patiently ignoring me when I was tetchy or mean. I didn’t want Clover and Elsie to treat me as if I were an angel on a pedestal. I wanted to laugh and scrap and boss them around and I wanted them to argue and moan at me. I just wanted to be me again.
‘Are you all right, Katy?’ Izzie said anxiously. ‘You don’t look very comfortable. You don’t feel travel sick, do you? This bus is very jolty.’
I shrugged. I was starting to feel a bit sick actually. If I were Dexter I’d draw myself vomiting copiously over everyone on the bus. It was a tempting thought.
We got to the town centre at last and had to wait for everyone else to troop off the bus before I could wheel myself down the ramp.
‘Have a good time, Queenie. Don’t mow too many people down with your chariot,’ shouted the bus driver. He saw some other wheelchair user in the distance. ‘Look, look, another chariot! You can have a race!’ he yelled.
My smile wavered. What a total idiot! Izzie thanked him coolly and gathered us together.
‘Sorry, Katy. I suppose he thinks he’s being friendly, making all those fatuous remarks. Take no notice,’ she muttered.
I was looking at the other wheelchair user. He was a teenage boy, propped upright in an awkwardly rigid position. I saw that he was quadriplegic, unable to move any of his limbs. As we got nearer I heard him grunting and groaning incoherently. I couldn’t tell if this was his way of making conversation or if he was just making random sounds. His mother was pushing him – or maybe his grandmother, it was difficult to tell. She was grey and stooped and she looked exhausted, but she was chatting away to her boy in a cheery tone, making his responses for him.
Izzie was looking at them too. I squirmed. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was very lucky compared to that boy. I thought of little Rosemary in hospital, forever stuck on her back like a stag beetle, but never complaining. I hated feeling ashamed.
Izzie glanced at me.
‘I know, I know. I just don’t feel like counting my blessings, OK?’ I said rudely.
‘I know that too,’ Izzie said quietly. ‘Are you tired? Would you like me to push you for a bit?’
‘No, let me push Katy!’ said Elsie.
‘I’ll push myself,’ I said obstinately, though I was starting to feel horribly weary.
‘We’ll walk either side of you then, Katy,’ said Clover. She was looking round, glaring at anyone who was staring at us. I knew she was suggesting this to protect me, but I found that irritating too.
‘No, don’t. I might barge into you. Don’t keep fussing,’ I said sharply.
Clover didn’t reply but she went pink.
I felt horrid. What was I doing, being so mean to Clover and Elsie and Izzie, when they were trying so hard to be kind and let me enjoy a shopping trip? I took a deep breath.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘Look, I know it’s early, but let’s go to McDonald’s right this minute and have something to eat. Then I’ll get my strength back and won’t be so ratty.’
‘Good idea,’ said Izzie heroically, because she hated McDonald’s with a passion.
So we all sat and ate Big Macs and fries, even Izzie.
‘Oh, this is so yummy. Isn’t it, Katy?’ said Elsie.
‘Won’t Dorry be furious if he finds out!’ said Clover.
‘It’s totally yummy, yes.’ Then I looked at Izzie. ‘But not quite as good as your cooking.’
‘Oh, come on, Katy. You needn’t go that far,’ said Izzie, laughing.
‘OK, not as healthy as your cooking. How about that?’ I said.
I felt a lot better afterwards. I even managed to stay calm and serene when Izzie took the two girls to the loo. A mother with two squirmy toddlers came and plonked herself down at my table and started talking to me in that soppy, emphatic way people use with three-year-olds.
‘Oh, you poor dear! You’re surely not here all by yourself? Here, let me go and order you some food,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you.’
I was quite tempted to say yes please and scoff another burger – but I just smiled at her.
‘It’s OK. I’m with some people. They’ll be back in a minute,’ I said.
‘You’re such a good girl to wait patiently all by yourself,’ she said. She poked her arm towards me and I thought for a moment she was actually going to pat me on the head like a little dog, but she chose my shoulder instead. ‘Good girl,’ she repeated.
I squirmed but managed to stay smiling. She kept on chatting to me till Izzie and the girls came back at last.
‘Sorry, Katy, there was a long queue in the ladies’,’ said Izzie.
‘The poor little mite’s been such a good girl,’ said the interfering woman. ‘We’ve been keeping her company.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said Izzie briskly. ‘Come on then.’
I happily took off my brake and wheeled myself round the table to the exit.
‘Good Lord, she’s leaving the poor kid to wheel herself,’ the woman muttered.
‘Did you hear that, Izzie?’ I said.
‘All too clearly,’ said Izzie crisply. ‘Why can’t some people mind their own business?’
But that was the last of the hassle. We went all round the shops in the centre with no problem at all, going up in the glass lifts between floors. We went in Topshop and Zara and New Look. When we were in Primark Izzie let Clover and Elsie dress up in an
ything they fancied. Elsie was particularly thrilled to squeeze into a tiny tight skirt and a sparkly top. She came running out of the dressing room to show me.
‘Look at me, Katy! Don’t I look sexy!’ she shouted.
Izzie winced but didn’t tell her off.
‘You must dress up too, Katy,’ said Clover.
I rolled my eyes, because it would be far too much of a performance to wriggle out of my joggers and into a silly little skirt.
‘Not my style,’ I said.
‘You could maybe do with a new outfit,’ said Izzie.
‘You only just bought me one,’ I said.
‘Yes, but I think it was more my taste than yours,’ said Izzie.
She led the way to a really funky shop playing heavy metal music.
‘Let’s see if we can find you a T-shirt more to your fancy,’ she shouted above the din.
There were some amazingly cool designs. Clover wanted me to have a black T-shirt with a bright psychedelic design. Elsie preferred a blue T-shirt with a huge green chameleon. I liked both, but then I saw a black and grey T-shirt with a skull, the exact same design as Dexter’s. I had to have it.
Izzie treated Clover and Elsie too, taking them to Claire’s and letting them choose whatever they wanted. Clover went for a little pot of flamingo-pink nail varnish and Elsie fell in love with a ridiculous purple feather boa which she insisted on wearing immediately.
Izzie treated herself to a couple of Anne Tyler paperbacks in Waterstones, and she bought several Beatrix Potters for the littlies.
I was getting really, really tired by now, and my hands hurt and shoulders ached from manoeuvring my wheelchair. I didn’t object when Izzie started pushing me, and I didn’t moan when she suggested we make tracks for home.
The bus ride went without a hitch and we were home in half an hour. Clover and Elsie wanted me to dress up in my new T-shirt straight away, but I was too tired. I went straight to my room. My arms felt too weak and wobbly to do a proper transfer, so Izzie helped haul me out of the wheelchair and get my heavy legs up on to the bed.
‘There now. Have a little nap,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Izzie. Thanks for everything,’ I murmured.
Katy Page 27
