“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just there’s something strange going on…” I wiped my palms on my jeans. “Weird stuff that I haven’t told you.”
She moved closer to me. “What sort of weird stuff?”
I took a breath, forcing myself to speak before I could change my mind. “Well, a couple of weeks ago this woman called Sharon got in touch with my dad. Apparently she used to be his girlfriend, years ago, before he met my mum. They’ve been seeing each other, meeting up, talking on the phone, and then the other night, when he got home, him and my mum had this massive row…”
“Oh god, Mads, you don’t think your mum and dad are going to split up, do you?”
I dug my nails into my hand. It was horrible hearing her say the words out loud, even though I’d been thinking the exact same thing ever since the phone call with Aunty Hat.
“I don’t know, but that’s not all,” I said. “Around the same time as Sharon first called, I was in the cemetery after school one day and I saw a woman standing by my nan’s grave. She left a note…”
Gemma squashed even closer to me. “You’re kidding. What did it say?”
“It said, I’m so sorry, forgive me. She left it with flowers, pink tulips, my nan’s favourites. Anyway, the woman was wearing a scarf. It was bright blue silk, wrapped right round her head, like a turban. And then I saw her again, about a week ago, at school. At Church Vale! I knew it was her because of the scarf.”
“So what happened just now?”
I hesitated. “Um…my dad was with her, in the cafe. The woman from the cemetery with the scarf round her head. He was sitting with her in the cafe, and someone else. A girl. She looked older than us, but not much.”
Gemma’s eyes were huge behind her glasses. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. And I’ve got a funny feeling the woman might be Sharon. I think they might be the same person… I can’t think of any other explanation…”
“So what are you going to do? Are you going to tell your dad you saw them together?”
I shook my head hard. There was no way I could tell him – it felt shameful, like I’d caught him doing something wrong. I wouldn’t even know what to say.
“Look, I’m really sorry the day’s been spoiled,” I said. “We haven’t eaten or anything. You must be starving.”
“Don’t be silly. We can eat at mine. You will come back with me, won’t you? My mum will only start nagging me to do my homework if I go back on my own.”
I gave her a shaky smile, trying to squash down the rising panic. “Yeah, I’d love to. I can’t face going home on my own either.”
It was a relief to be round at Gemma’s. It felt calm and normal. Her mum was home and she let us make pizza for lunch, choosing our own toppings. She didn’t mention Nan or anything – she just said it was lovely to see me after such a long time. Her dad arrived home while we were eating and stood chatting to us while he ate all of Gemma’s pizza crusts.
When we’d finished and cleared away we went up to Gemma’s room. She sat me down at her dressing table and made me up using my new eyeshadow and some of her own stuff. She took ages, forcing me to keep my eyes closed so I couldn’t see what she was doing. I’d never really worn make-up before, apart from when we did a big show at the end of primary school.
“Okay, you can open them now,” she said after what seemed like years. “So come on then, what do you think?”
I sat blinking at my reflection in her dressing-table mirror. It was like staring at a different person. I looked about five years older for a start.
“What’s the matter, don’t you like it?”
“No I do, I really like it; it’s just weird – I hardly recognize myself.”
“You look beautiful,” she said. “Your eyes are amazing.”
“No they’re not,” I said, my face heating up. “Only because you’ve made them…”
“Hey, look at us here,” she interrupted, reaching over my shoulder to grab a strip of photos stuck to her mirror. “I seriously can’t believe how much we’ve changed.”
We were in one of those tiny photo booths; our heads squashed together, both of us making silly faces. I remembered the day we took them. It was a Saturday afternoon right at the beginning of Year Seven. We’d gone up to town on our own for the first time, amazed at how grown-up and independent we felt.
“We look so young,” I said, half-wishing we could go back to that day – actually step inside the picture and be back inside that booth, before Nan’s stroke and Dad and Sharon and the woman in the cemetery.
There was something else stuck on Gemma’s mirror that I hadn’t seen before – one of those scan photos, the kind you get when you’re having a baby.
“What’s this?” I said.
Gemma didn’t answer for a moment. I glanced at her in the mirror. She was tearing at the skin round her thumb, her cheeks bright red.
“I haven’t actually told you…” she said. I turned round to face her. “My mum was pregnant a while back.”
“Pregnant?”
“Yes, but she, um…she lost the baby. It was a few weeks after your nan died. Mum didn’t want me to tell anyone until after she’d had the three-month scan, you know, in case anything went wrong. Anyway she had the scan and it was all fine, but then a couple of days later she started to bleed and she had a miscarriage.”
Gemma bowed her head, batting tears away with the back of her hand. “I went with Mum to the scan, Maddie. I saw the baby on the screen. It was horrible when it happened, like losing a real sister or brother.”
“Oh god, Gemma, I don’t believe it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t. Your nan had just died. And then I didn’t really know how to tell you to be honest. We haven’t exactly been close lately.”
It was like being punched in the stomach. We’d both been grieving at exactly the same time but I’d been so wrapped up in my own stuff…
“Is that why you were so upset after seeing Mrs Turner’s baby? And about the Holes homework?”
She nodded. “I nearly told you that day actually, but I think I was worried you wouldn’t understand, you know, because it wasn’t a real baby that had actually died.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said quietly. “I wish you had told me. It’s like with me and Nan. Everyone seemed to be carrying on as normal while I was feeling more and more anxious and I didn’t know how to explain, how to put it into words…”
“That’s exactly how I felt,” she said. “No one even knew my mum was pregnant.” She shook her head. “I was so upset that day I saw Mrs Turner’s baby, I couldn’t stop crying. I came home and had a really good talk with my mum. It was the first time I’d actually told her how sad I was feeling.”
“It’s crazy, Gem. Why didn’t we just talk to each other?”
She shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know, but I’m really pleased we’re talking now.”
I smiled back. “Me too. No more secrets, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Deal.”
I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. It was a text from Mum asking where I was.
“I’d better go,” I said. “She was probably expecting me back ages ago.”
“So what are you going to do about your dad and the woman in the cafe?” said Gemma as we went downstairs. “Are you going to confront him, or tell your mum?”
A shudder ran through me at the thought. “I know I should, but I can’t. I’m too scared.”
She gave me a big hug on the doorstep. “Don’t forget. Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, you can always talk to me.”
Dad was at the park with Charlie when I got home; they were having some kind of special training session to make up for all the football they’d missed. I told Mum I wasn’t feeling well and edged my way past her and up the stairs. She looked at me for the longest time as if she was trying to decide whether she believed me or not.
“Okay, fine,” she said in the end. “I’ll come up to see how yo
u are in a bit.”
More lies. We were all lying to each other. It was horrible.
I hid away in my room for the rest of the evening. I kept thinking about the woman in the cemetery, how much I’d wanted to talk to her, to find out how she knew Nan and why she was sorry. Now I wanted to know what she was doing in a cafe with my dad on a Saturday afternoon. Was she Sharon? Why else would Dad be meeting her? I couldn’t think of any other explanation.
I’d propped up the picture of Nan blowing her candles out on my bedside table, the one I’d brought down from the attic. I picked it up, hugging it to my chest, trying to conjure up her lemony smell, the way her hair frizzed up near her ears, her throaty laugh. If only she was here right now. She’d know what to do. She’d know how to sort everything out.
“I miss you, Nan,” I whispered. “I still miss you so much.”
Chapter 17
It was Charlie’s check-up on Monday. Mum made him a massive breakfast, as if every last calorie mattered, but he pushed his plate away, shaking his head. He hates going to the clinic, especially when they do loads of tests. Dad said he’d take him out for a quick kick-about in the garden if he promised to eat something when he came back in: a bite of toast for every goal.
“You’ve hardly touched your breakfast either, Mads,” said Mum, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Is your tummy still hurting?”
I nodded and then shook my head. “I don’t feel sick or anything, just a bit churned up.”
“That’s exactly how I feel about Charlie’s check-up,” she said, as if my churned-up tummy didn’t really count, as if I didn’t count. She shook her head, sighing. “It’s always the same, every time, even though we’ve been going to the clinic for years. I know I won’t properly relax until it’s over.”
Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if Charlie hadn’t been premature, if he’d been born three months later, like a normal baby, if things might be different between me and Mum. I had an overwhelming urge suddenly to shout in her face or shake her really hard, to remind her that she had two children and they both needed her.
“Did you know Gemma’s mum was pregnant?” I said. I don’t know why – I just blurted it out. “Gemma told me yesterday when I was at her house. Her mum had a miscarriage just after her first scan.”
“No, I had no idea,” said Mum, shaking her head. “Christina never said. The poor thing. Was Gemma very upset?”
“Very. It happened around the same time as Nan died.”
Mum picked up her coffee and blew on it. “I thought I was having a miscarriage with Charlie,” she said quietly. I tensed up. Charlie again, it was so frustrating. “I knew it was too early,” she went on, “much too early. I just remember being terrified I was going to lose him…”
She trailed off, staring past my shoulder as if she was remembering the day it happened. “I felt so guilty, Mads. As if it was my fault the pregnancy had gone so wrong…as if I’d done something to cause it…eaten the wrong thing, worked too hard…”
“I told Vivian about it,” I said. “At nurture group.”
Mum’s eyes flickered back to my face. “What do you mean? What did you tell her?”
“Just about Charlie being born too early, how much you worry about him…”
“Oh…” Mum looked surprised, as if it had never occurred to her that her worries might affect me so much. “And what did she say?”
I opened my mouth to answer, to tell Mum how Vivian said it must’ve been a very anxious time for me as well, that I must’ve wondered what happened to the mum I’d had before Charlie was born – but just then Charlie came stumbling back in from the garden.
“Dad says my shots have got much stronger!” he said, as Dad came in behind him. “I don’t see why I have to even go to the clinic now. You could just ring them up and tell them how much better I am…”
Mum sighed, looking past him at Dad. “Of course you have to go,” she said. “It’s not just about your legs, Charlie, you know that. Come on, sit down and have something to eat.” She jumped up to put some more bread in the toaster, totally focused on Charlie again. “I’m pleased about your shots, though,” she added, turning back to give him a quick hug. “Wait until Mr Maddox sees…he might even choose you for the team!”
Kieran was standing outside the Blue Room as I came up the corridor to nurture group, his hand hovering over the doorknob. I hung back for a moment, embarrassed. It was the first time I’d seen him since he told me and Vivian about his mum, but he looked just as angry as usual, his shoulders hunched up around his ears.
He swung round suddenly, as if he’d decided to leave, but then he saw me and froze. I wasn’t sure what to do. For some weird reason I really wanted him to stay.
“Come on then,” I muttered, sort of nodding at the door. He shook his head, still frozen to the spot. “Come on, Kieran,” I tried again. “Vivian will be waiting for us.”
“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t do it any more.”
“Yes you can,” I said a bit more firmly. “You have to.”
I reached past him and opened the door, hoping he’d follow me in. I don’t even know why it mattered so much to me, but it did.
Sally-Ann was already in there talking away to Vivian. I grabbed my pad and sat across from her in my usual seat. Kieran waited for another moment or two and then shuffled in, sitting as near to the door as he could get, as if he wasn’t planning to stay for very long.
“We’ve got a French test this morning,” Sally-Ann was saying. “But I don’t actually think I should have to take it because I was away last week, and anyway I’m rubbish at French.”
I doodled RUBBISH at the top of the page and began to list all the things I was rubbish at: coping with change, confronting Dad, talking to Mum, coming to school without my ribbon…
“Perhaps you’re worried that if you take the French test, you’ll be just like everyone else, and the French teacher will forget how poorly you’ve been,” said Vivian.
Sally-Ann frowned. “What do you mean? Do you think I’m using my illness to get out of it?”
I glanced up at Kieran. He was staring at me again, that same intense look. I wanted to take my ribbon out of my bag but I was too embarrassed.
“No, I don’t think that,” said Vivian. “It’s just that all three of you are dealing with some serious issues that set you apart – and while I’m sure you wish you could be the same as everyone else, sometimes there can be a comfort in holding on to what makes us different.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Sally-Ann.
“Nor do I,” I said, wondering what possible comfort there was in being anxious all the time. Needing my purple ribbon just to get through the day.
Vivian thought for a moment. “Well, let’s say your tummy was all better, Sally-Ann, no more nasty pains or hospital appointments, you might be scared that we wouldn’t worry about you any more.” She turned to face me. “And, Maddie, you might be scared that if we thought you were over your nan – if you began to relax, even for a moment, went back to being the happy, chatty Maddie you used to be – you might get another shock. Things might change again and you wouldn’t be able to cope.”
But things are already changing, I thought. And everyone knows I can’t cope.
“What about me then?” said Kieran, sneering. “What am I scared of?”
“I think you’re frightened,” said Vivian, in the gentlest voice I’d heard her use, “that if you allowed yourself to trust us, to let us in, even a tiny bit, you might get hurt all over again.”
Kieran scraped back his chair, standing up. “The only thing I’m frightened of,” he said, “is staying here listening to this crap.”
He took a step towards the door, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
“It’s easy to walk away when things get tough,” said Vivian, “when I say things you don’t like. It’s so much harder to stay.”
Kieran took another step towards the door and then hesit
ated. I held my breath. Stay, I thought. Please stay.
“Walking out is always an option, Kieran,” Vivian went on. “No one is forcing you to stay. But if you keep on doing that, if you keep on shutting us out, nothing will change.”
He thrust his hands even deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. And then slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was doing it, he turned round and slunk back to his chair. He stayed for the rest of the session – he didn’t say anything but it felt massive, like he was admitting for the first time that he needed Vivian’s help.
I didn’t say much either; Sally-Ann did most of the talking. She was telling Vivian about her mum’s new boyfriend. She said she hated it when her mum started seeing someone new, that it was so obvious they didn’t want her around.
“I expect you’ve been used to having your mum all to yourself,” said Vivian.
“Only when she’s single,” said Sally-Ann. “As soon as she meets someone new, it’s bye-bye, Sally-Ann…” She broke off, holding her side as if she was in pain. “I’ve got such a bad tummy-ache,” she said. “I’m not making it up, I swear. It’s right here…”
“I wonder if what you’re really saying is that it hurts to share your mum with her new boyfriend?”
Sally-Ann squeezed her eyes tight. “Yes it does,” she whispered. “It really hurts.”
“I have that exact feeling,” I said suddenly. “It’s because I don’t want to share my dad.”
I put my hands up to my cheeks; they were red-hot. I had no idea I was going to say that, it just came out. I couldn’t help it. The thought of sharing Dad with someone other than Mum and Charlie was unbearable.
Sally-Ann opened her eyes. I thought she was going to say that her pain was worse than mine or something, but she didn’t, she just gave me a tiny smile. I glanced over at Kieran but he was busy balancing his stones, concentrating hard as he placed one on top of the other. As soon as he’d placed the last one, taking ages to make sure it was in exactly the right position, he flicked the tower with his finger, scattering the stones across the table.
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