My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece

by Annabel Pitcher

  Mrs Farmer shouted Time’s up. She said Who would like to tell the class about their holiday and Sunya’s hand shot into the air and the bracelets tinkled like those bells you get on shop doors. Mrs Farmer pointed at her and then at the boy with the swollen face and then at two girls and then at me, even though I hadn’t put my hand up. I wanted to say No thank you but the words got stuck near my tonsils. When I didn’t move, she said Come on James in this cross way so I got to my feet and walked to the front of the class. My shoes felt heavier than normal and someone pointed at the stain on my Spider-Man top. Coco Pops turn the milk chocolatey, which is good for drinking but makes a mess if you spill it.

  The boy read first and it went on and on and Mrs Farmer said How many pages was that, Daniel and Daniel said Three and a half and his eyes almost popped, his face was so puffed up with pride. Then a girl called Alexandra and a girl called Maisie described their holidays, which were full of parties and new puppies and trips to Paris. Then it was Sunya’s turn.

  She cleared her throat. Her eyes narrowed to two sparkly slits. It should have been a wonderful holiday she said. She paused dramatically and looked around the room. Somewhere outside a truck rumbled by. The hotel looked lovely on the website. It was in a beautiful forest, with no other houses for miles around. A perfect place for a rest, Mum said. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Daniel rolled his eyes. On the first night I couldn’t sleep because there was a storm. I heard this tap tap tap on my window and I thought it was just a branch, blowing in the wind. But it didn’t stop even when the wind died down, so I climbed out of bed and opened the curtains. Sunya suddenly screamed at the top of her voice and Mrs Farmer almost fell out of her chair. Then Sunya spoke as fast as she could and said Instead of a branch there was a dead hand knocking on the glass and then a face appeared and it had no teeth and scraggily hair and it said Let me in little girl, let me in. So I—

  Mrs Farmer stood up with her hand on her chest. Very entertaining as always, Sunya. Thank you very much. Sunya looked annoyed that she hadn’t been allowed to read to the end. Then it was my turn. I got through it as quickly as I could, mumbling all the bits about Rose. I felt guilty for telling everyone she’d been having fun on the beach when really she was inside an urn on a mantelpiece. How old are your sisters Mrs Farmer asked. Fifteen I replied. Oh, are they twins she said, as if that was the best thing in the world. I nodded and she said How lovely. My face flushed the exact colour of pink highlighter pen. Sunya stared at me for too long. I knew she was trying to work out which bit of my story was made up, and it got on my nerves so I glared back. Instead of looking embarrassed, she smiled her big white smile and winked like we were sharing a secret.

  Excellent Mrs Farmer said. You are all one step closer to Heaven. Daniel beamed but I thought this was stupid. Our writing was okay but I don’t think it would have impressed Jesus. But then Mrs Farmer leaned over her desk and for the first time I looked at the display. There were fifteen fluffy clouds going diagonally up the wall. In the top right corner was the word HEAVEN in letters cut out from gold cardboard. In the bottom left corner were thirty angels, each with its own pair of huge silvery wings. Written on each angel’s right wing was the name of someone in the class. The angels would have looked quite holy if they hadn’t got pins stuck through their heads. With a plump hand, Mrs Farmer moved my angel onto the first cloud. Then she did the same with Alexandra’s and Maisie’s, but she flew Daniel’s angel right past cloud one and perched it on cloud two.

  At lunchtime I tried to make a friend. I don’t want it to be like London here. At my old school, everyone called me Girly ’cos I like art, Geek ’cos I’m clever, and Weirdo ’cos I find it hard to speak to people I don’t know. Jas said this morning It’s important to make friends this time, and the way she said it made me feel uncomfortable, like she knew I spent lunchtimes in the library rather than the playground in London.

  I walked around looking for someone to talk to. Sunya was the only person on her own. Everyone else from my class was in a big gang on the grass. The girls were making daisy chains and the boys were kicking a ball about. I wanted to play more than anything in the world but I didn’t dare ask if I could join in. Instead, I lay down nearby and pretended to sunbathe and hoped that one of the boys would call me over. I closed my eyes and listened to the stream gurgle and the boys laugh and the girls squeal when the ball got too close.

  I thought a cloud must have covered the sun ’cos suddenly I was in the shade. I looked up and all I could see were two glittery eyes and dark brown skin and one hair wafting gently in the breeze. I said Go away and Sunya said Charming and she plonked herself next to me and grinned. I said What do you want and she said A word with Spider-Man and then she opened her palm, which was surprisingly pink, and inside was a ring made out of Blu-Tack.

  I’m one too she whispered, looking all around to make sure no one was listening. I wanted to ignore her but I was intrigued so I said You are what exactly and then I yawned on purpose to make it look like I didn’t really care about the answer. Isn’t it obvious she said, pointing at the cloth wrapped around her head and shoulders. I sat up with a jerk. My mouth must have been hanging open ’cos a fly flew in and landed on my tongue. I coughed and spat and Sunya laughed. We’re the same she said, and I shouted We are not. Daniel looked over from the gang on the grass. Take it she smiled, holding out the ring. I shuffled backwards on my knees and shook my head. This was obviously some sort of Muslim tradition, though I’d never heard of the giving and receiving of Blu-Tack rings when we’d studied Ramadan at school. Go on she said, wiggling the middle finger on her right hand. A thin line of Blu-Tack was wrapped around it, a little brown stone stuck on top like a diamond. She said The magic won’t work unless you wear one too and I said My sister was blown up by a bomb and scrambled to my feet and ran off.

  Luckily a fat dinner lady blew the whistle so I sprinted all the way back to the classroom. When I sat down on my chair, my brain banged against the bones in my head and I needed a drink. My hands made sweat marks on the table. There was laughter in the corridor as the gang from the grass walked in. Every single one of them had a daisy chain wrapped around their wrist. Including the boys. And though they looked stupid, I wished that I had a bracelet of flowers to wear too. Sunya came in last, nothing on her wrist either. She grinned when she saw me and fluttered her fingers in front of my face, the middle one flashing with the Blu-Tack ring.

  We did a bit of Maths and finished off with Geography. I didn’t look at Sunya once. I felt confused and upset, as if I had betrayed Dad. Even though my skin’s white and I have an English accent and I think it’s wrong to blow up people’s sisters, I must have done something to convince Sunya I wanted Muslim jewellery.

  The teacher said Pack away and I went to put my Geography book in my new drawer. It says James Matthews on the front and there is a picture of a lion next to my name, which made me think of the silver one in the sky. I opened my drawer and saw something small and white underneath my English book. Petals. I glanced up to see Daniel smiling at me. He nodded and pointed, encouraging me to look closer. I moved my English book to one side and my heart leapt out of my chest. A daisy chain. Daniel put his thumbs in the air. My hands trembled as I did it back and all of a sudden I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Jas about my day. Sunya appeared at my side, examining the bracelet with a strange look on her face. Jealousy. I picked it up carefully, desperate to wrap it around my wrist, but it fell to bits. Daniel started to laugh. My heart smashed back into my chest making a big black hole that leaked happiness all over the classroom floor. It wasn’t a bracelet. It had never been a bracelet – just a bunch of squashed up flowers. And Sunya wasn’t jealous. She was angry. She glared at Daniel with her bright bright eyes and all the sparkle had turned as sharp as broken glass.

  Daniel tapped a boy called Ryan on the shoulder. He whispered something in Ryan’s ear. They grinned at me and put their thumbs high into the air. Then they did one of those sniggers and walked
out of the classroom. I wished the silver lion in the sky would charge down to Earth and bite their heads off.

  The ring will protect you Sunya whispered and I jumped a million metres off the floor. We were the only two left in the classroom. That is part of its magic. I said I don’t need protecting and Sunya laughed. Even Spider-Man needs a bit of help sometimes. The sun was pouring through the window and bouncing off the scarf on Sunya’s head, and for a millisecond I thought about pure things like angels and halos and Jesus and white icing. But then a picture of Dad’s face filled my mind and squashed all the other thoughts away. I could see his thin lips and narrow eyes as he said Muslims infect this country like a disease, which isn’t exactly true. They’re not contagious and they don’t give you red spots like chicken pox, and as far as I know they don’t even cause a temperature.

  I took a step backwards and then another and I knocked into a chair ’cos my eyes were stuck on Sunya’s face. As I reached the door, she said Don’t you understand and I said No. She was silent then and I was scared the conversation was over. I sighed like she was the most boring person in the whole world and I turned my back as if I was about to leave. Then she said Well, you should understand because we are the same. I stopped walking and spoke clearly. I am not a Muslim. Sunya’s laughter tinkled like the bracelets on her wrist. No, she said, but you are a superhero. My head snapped back. My eyes grew from marbles to snooker balls. With a brown finger, she pointed at the material draped over her hair and down her back. Spider-Man, I am Girl M. Then she walked over to me and touched my hand, and before I could snatch it away she had gone. Mouth dry, eyes as big as planets, I watched Sunya run down the corridor, and for the first time I noticed that the scarf flapping around her body looked exactly like a superhero’s cape.

  IT HAPPENED FIVE years ago today. The TV’s full of it, programme after programme about September 9th. It is Friday so we couldn’t go to the seaside ’cos of school. I think we are going tomorrow instead. Dad hasn’t said anything but I saw him looking on the Internet at St. Bees, the nearest beach around here, and last night he stroked the urn as if to say goodbye.

  He probably won’t do it so I am not going to say goodbye just yet. I will say goodbye if he actually lets go of Rose’s ashes and sprinkles them in the sea. Two years ago, he made me touch the urn and whisper my last words and I felt stupid ’cos I knew she couldn’t hear me. And I felt even more stupid when she appeared back on the mantelpiece the very next day and my goodbye had been pointless.

  Jas took the day off school ’cos she was too upset. I sometimes forget that Rose was her twin and they spent ten years together, or ten years and nine months if you include the bit in the womb. I wonder if they looked at each other when they were in Mum’s tummy. I bet Jas had a peep. She’s really nosy. The other day I caught her in my room, going through my school bag. Just checking you’ve done your homework she said, which used to be Mum’s job.

  It must have been squashed, two babies inside Mum. That’s probably why they weren’t that close. Jas told me that Rose was bossy and always had to be the centre of attention, crying if she didn’t get her own way. I’m glad she died and not you I said, smiling in a kind way. Jas frowned. If one of you had to, I mean. Her bottom lip wobbled. Isn’t it even a little bit nice without her I asked, feeling cross. Jas had called Rose annoying, not me. Imagine a shadow without a person she replied. I thought of Peter Pan. His shadow had much more fun in Wendy’s room when Peter wasn’t there. I wanted to explain this to Jas but she had started to cry so I gave her a tissue and turned on the TV.

  When I was eating my Coco Pops this morning, Jas asked if I wanted to stay off school as well. I shook my head. You sure she said, looking at her horoscope on the laptop. You don’t have to go in if you’re upset. I grabbed the sandwiches she had made for my lunch off the sideboard. We do Art on Friday and it’s my favourite I explained. And it’s year six’s turn for the tuck shop. I sprinted upstairs to get my twenty pounds from Granny.

  In Assembly the teacher said a prayer for all the families affected by September 9th and I felt as though there was a spotlight on my head. In London I hated September 9th ’cos everyone at school knew what had happened. No one talked to me all year but on that day everyone wanted to be my friend. They said You must miss Rose, or I bet you miss Rose, and I had to say Yes and nod sadly. But here no one knows a thing so I don’t have to pretend and I want to keep it that way.

  When we all said Amen, I looked up from the prayer. For a millisecond I thought I’d got away with it, but then I saw two twinkling eyes. Sunya was sitting with her legs crossed, her chin resting on her left hand, and she was biting the tip of her little finger and staring in my direction. I suddenly remembered saying My sister was blown up by a bomb, and I could tell from the way that Sunya looked at me, she remembered too.

  I haven’t spoken to her since I found out she was a superhero. I want to ask all about Girl M but every time I open my mouth I think about Dad and my lips snap shut and trap my words. If he knew I wanted to talk to a Muslim, he would throw me out and I would have nowhere to go ’cos Mum lives with Nigel. It has been two weeks since she sent the present and she hasn’t visited yet. The Spider-Man top’s getting dirty but I can’t take it off ’cos that would be giving up on her. And anyway, it’s not Mum’s fault she’s stuck in London. It’s Mr Walker’s. He’s her boss at the art college and meaner than the meanest person I can think of, which right now is The Green Goblin in Spider-Man. Once he wouldn’t let Mum go to a friend’s wedding, even though she asked dead nicely. And another time he wouldn’t let her have time off for Mrs Best’s funeral. Mum said she wasn’t bothered about missing the burial ’cos Mrs Best was a batty old busybody, but she’d bought a black dress from Next that she couldn’t return ’cos Roger had eaten the receipt.

  On one of the documentaries on TV, there was someone talking about losing their niece on September 9th and they couldn’t say more than four words without bursting into tears. News reporters phoned Mum and Dad all the time. They never gave any interviews. I wouldn’t mind if someone wanted to film me and ask questions, but I don’t remember anything about the day except a big bang and lots of crying.

  I think Dad blamed Mum and that’s why they started to hate each other. They never even talked. I didn’t think it was weird until I went to Luke Branston’s house when we were friends for four days and his parents held hands and laughed and chatted. Mum and Dad only said practical things like Pass the salt, or Have you fed Roger, or Take your bloody shoes off, I’ve just cleaned the carpet.

  Jas remembers what it used to be like so the silence upset her. It didn’t bother me ’cos I never knew any different. One Christmas, we had a big argument about Scrabble and I bashed her over the head with the board and she tried to put the letters down my jumper. Mum and Dad didn’t even tell us off. They just sat in the lounge staring in opposite directions when Jas showed them the bump above her nose. We are invisible she said later, trying to get the Q out of my collar. I wished it was true. If I could choose a superpower, invisibility would be top of the list, even above flying. It’s like we’re dead too she went on, finding a T down my sleeve.

  We were in Trafalgar Square when it happened. It was Mum’s idea to go. Dad wanted to have a picnic in the park but Mum wanted to see an exhibition in the city. Dad loves the countryside ’cos he grew up in the Scottish highlands. He only moved to London when he met Mum. Life’s only worth living in the capital she once said, which made me think of her sitting in a big L for London.

  Jas told me the day started off fine and it was sunny but cold and you could see your breath like cigarette smoke. I was throwing bits of bread onto the ground and laughing when the pigeons tried to catch them. Jas and Rose were running through the birds making them twirl into the sky and Mum was laughing but Dad said Stop that girls. Mum said They’re not doing any harm but Jas ran back to Dad ’cos she hated getting in trouble. Rose was not as good. In fact she was quite bad and according to Jas she was
naughty at school, but no one seems to remember that now she is all dead and perfect. Jas held Dad’s hand as he shouted Rose, get back here but Mum just said Oh, leave her be and giggled when Rose spun on the spot, throwing her head back. Birds swirled all around her and Mum yelled Spin faster and then there was a bang and Rose was blown into bits.

  Jas said the world went black ’cos there was so much smoke and her ears went funny ’cos the explosion was so loud. But even though she had a burst eardrum, she could still hear Dad scream Rose Rose Rose.

  They found out later it was a terrorist attack. Bombs had been planted in fifteen bins all around London and they had been fixed to go off at the same time on September 9th. Three of them didn’t work so only twelve bins exploded, but that was enough to kill sixty two people. Rose was the youngest to die. No one knew who had done it until a group of Muslims posted something on the Internet saying that they had done it in the name of Allah, which is the Muslim word for God and rhymes with something I said a lot when I was seven and a half and wanted to be a magician. Voilà.

  The TV programme made it look like a film. It was a reconstruction of the September 9th bombings. Rose wasn’t in it ’cos they didn’t have Mum or Dad’s permission, but it was interesting to see what happened in the other explosions around the city. One man who died should not have been in London. His train from Euston Station to Manchester Piccadilly had been cancelled due to a signal failure. Rather than wait around for another train, he decided to do a bit of sightseeing in Covent Garden. He was hungry so he bought a sandwich and he put the wrapper in the bin and then he was dead. If the signal hadn’t failed, or if he hadn’t bought a sandwich, or even if he’d eaten it a couple of seconds slower or a couple of seconds faster, then he might not have been putting the wrapper in the bin at the precise moment the bomb exploded. And that made me realise something. If we hadn’t been in Trafalgar Square, or if pigeons didn’t exist, or if Rose had been a good girl instead of a naughty one, then she’d still be alive and my family would be happy.