Boy Underwater

by Adam Baron

  Clay came in and wanted fish and chips. Juni, however, said that if they got that she would vomit. I mean, so totally. She wanted something called soo-shee but Clay said he’d rather eat her vomit than eat that. Doing my best to be nice to Auntie Mill, I said she should choose and she shouted yes! Why not for ONCE? But when she suggested Indian food Juni and Clay said they would both vomit, so she ended up ordering soo-shee from one place and fish and chips from another. That really should have made them both happy but Juni simply could not believe that Auntie Mill had forgotten to order tempura prawns, and asked if she was going senile.

  Clay stared at his peas.

  ‘They’re not mushy!’ he cried.

  Auntie Mill went off to get herself some lemonade after that, and then it was time to argue about the board game. Clay said Juni’s choice (Cluedo) was for stupid little stupid babies and Juni said that the only thing more boring than Risk was death. Clay said he’d arrange for her to play that if she liked and I thought Juni was going to attack him, so again I said Auntie Mill should choose.

  ‘Yes, why not?! Monopoly then.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’ve got Park Lane!’

  ‘But that’s not FAIR!’ Juni said. ‘If he’s already got Park Lane before we even start, I’M NOT PLAYING!!’

  I explained that I just happened to have it in my pocket but we didn’t start quite then anyway. Juni called dibs on being the little dog and Clay cut her eyebrow when he threw it at her.

  Auntie Mill went to get some plasters and more lemonade and I followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘What is it?’ she hissed when she heard me behind her. ‘Do I have to take Juniper to accident and emergency because Clayton’s shoved the Chance cards down her throat?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I was just wondering …’

  ‘If you can be the dog? Oh, please –’

  ‘No,’ I cut in. ‘I’ll be the boot. That’s fine. I was just wondering if you would take me to see my mum tomorrow?’

  Auntie Mill was cutting up a lemon on their island thing. She had her back to me. She stopped still and let out a breath.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  I stared at her. ‘But why not? Is it because of Lance?’

  ‘Lance?’

  ‘The boy I hit?’

  ‘What? No. Not that. I mean, yes, I’m still cross, my serve was really firing and … never mind. Cymbeline, it’s still too early. We just have to wait.’

  ‘But how do you know that?’

  ‘Because,’ Auntie Mill said, turning round to face me, ‘I went there.’

  I hadn’t expected that, and my mouth went dry. I tried to swallow but I couldn’t. ‘When?’ I said.

  ‘I went there this morning.’

  ‘This …? And …’ I could hardly even ask. ‘How is she?’

  Auntie Mill shrugged. ‘I don’t know, do I?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No. Because I went all the way over there only to be told that she wouldn’t see me. In fact, it was written down: I wasn’t allowed in. Nor would the doctor discuss her condition with me. Confidential, he said, and here I am looking after her son while –’

  ‘But she’d want to see me,’ I said.

  Auntie Mill blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well. It’s … just you. Because …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You argue all the time.’

  Auntie Mill slammed her hands on to her hips and her eyes flew open. ‘We do not.’

  ‘You do. Even when you’re not arguing you still sort of are.’

  ‘Well, that’s just because we’re sisters.’

  ‘Is it? Is it really?’ I said.

  I’m not sure what made me say that but Auntie Mill paused. Her eyes seemed to shiver and she nodded, just a little, as if to say, ‘Okay, you asked for it.’ She turned aside to glug a drink called Gordon’s into her lemonade then looked down at me again.

  ‘I used to be an actor.’

  ‘What?’ It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. ‘You mean like on Hank Zipzer?’

  ‘Yes, though I did theatre mostly.’

  ‘I see.’ Did I? What did that have to do with arguing with my mum, or taking me to see her?

  ‘I was in a play,’ Auntie Mill went on.

  ‘Was it about sisters then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well then … what …?’

  ‘It was by Shakespeare, Cymbeline. And there was this man in it.’

  ‘One of the dead ones who’s still breathing?’

  ‘One of the other actors. I liked him. I really liked him, actually. And he liked me.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Age-restricted content. But your mum came to see the play one night. I can still see her, all artsy and Bohemian-looking. And afterwards, well, she decided to like him too.’

  ‘You mean …?’

  ‘Your dad, Cymbeline. Yes. And – of course – he liked her too, didn’t he?’

  ‘Blimey. Were you cross?’

  ‘Oh, just a little bit, you might say.’

  ‘Wow. I get it. But why are you still cross with Mum now?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, you’ve got Uncle Chris now, haven’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Auntie Mill said, her voice going suddenly quiet, ‘I’ve got Uncle Chris, haven’t I? And that makes everything all right, doesn’t it?’

  With that, Auntie Mill grabbed her drink and marched into the living room.

  I followed, but I was so angry. There was nothing else I could do to get to see Mum and there was only one reason – I was just a kid. I was a kid and I needed an adult to do things. It was so frustrating and I wanted to scream at Auntie Mill, ask her why she couldn’t understand. I got this real stab of hatred for her, like I’d swallowed a Fab whole and it had got stuck in my chest. I hated Uncle Bill too – for not being there – and then, making my stomach turn over, I hated someone else. Mum. For leaving me. How could she do that? No matter what? Didn’t she know what would happen to me, how much I’d miss her and worry, how – yes – I’d be like Oliver Twist, in spite of the nice house I was in. Worse than him in fact because his mum had died; she hadn’t gone off on purpose. It didn’t last, though. Mum couldn’t help what had happened. She was ill. It wasn’t her fault. And then the hatred was replaced by a gush of love that was almost painful because – as bad as I was feeling – she must be feeling worse. At least I had my aunt and my cousins, didn’t I? Who did she have?

  I wasn’t into the Monopoly. I actually did get Park Lane and then Mayfair, though no one landed on them. No one ever does, do they? I was out first and mumbled goodnight, no one paying attention really because they were into it now. I picked up my bag and trudged up the stairs, picking up Mum’s tablet from the bed. I woke it up, once again desperate to connect with her, but she only smiled back for a second. The battery died and I stared at the black screen, which seemed right somehow because I’d run out of ideas. Out of everything. There was nothing left, nothing else I could think of, and I wouldn’t even be able to talk about it with Veronique tomorrow. Miss Phillips had reminded us that tomorrow was an Inset Day, which meant we didn’t have to go to school. Veronique was the only person I could talk to really, and with all the extra classes she did at the weekends I probably wouldn’t even see her until Monday.

  I got into bed. I snizzled Not Mr Fluffy, but there was no point. He just wasn’t Mr Fluffy. You can’t ever replace anyone with someone else. It doesn’t work. I pushed him aside but felt bad because of course it wasn’t his fault. It was me, trying to make him be what he wasn’t. I snizzled him again and it was okay, so I closed my eyes and changed his name to Not Mr Fluffy (But Teddy In His Own Right), and I was about to fall asleep when it

  An Inset Day.

  A day on which I didn’t have to go to school.

  A day on which no one at school would miss me if I wasn’t there.

  A day on which Auntie Mill would have to look a
fter me.

  What if – somehow – and by mistake of course, through absent-mindedness, or worry about my mum and Lance, and totally not on purpose, I sort of, tum-tee-tum, accidentally, FORGOT TO TELL HER ABOUT IT?

  In the morning I got dressed in my school uniform. I went downstairs and took the Weetabix out of the cupboard. I could hear Auntie Mill in the back room and I waited for her to come through, intending to tell her that Veronique’s mum would be taking me to school again. Auntie Mill would be pleased and I’d leave the house, pretending I was going next door. But I’d walk to Blackheath station. No one would stop me in the daytime. I’d go down to the same platform I’d gone to with Uncle Bill and get on a train to Welling. I’d walk past the charity shops and then the Greggs, and then through the park to the hospital. I’d managed to get inside last time, hadn’t I? I wouldn’t be worried about seeing her. She’d had enough time to get better surely and even if she wasn’t totally well, just seeing me would cheer her up. I’d sprint round to Mum’s ward and throw myself into her arms and then ask her about her paintings.

  But Auntie Mill said, ‘Morning, Cymbeline. Any idea what you want to do today?’

  I stared at her. She was wearing that short white dress again with the visor thing, and she was carrying a huge bag.

  ‘Er, maths. I’m really looking forward to that. And RE.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘At school of course.’

  ‘But didn’t you know? You’re off today.’

  ‘I’m …?’

  ‘Off. All day. Aren’t you pleased?’

  I sighed, not even wondering how she’d found out about the Inset Day. I just said yes, sure, slumping down into myself, a sort of fuzzy greyness filling me up with the failure of my last plan. The only thing that stopped it was confusion: Auntie Mill was humming to herself. Weirdly, she looked cheerful, even though she was going to have to look after me all day. Did that mean I was just going to have to follow her around, watching what she was doing? I was about to ask but she turned away and set an envelope with ‘Chris’ written on it next to the kettle before looking at her watch. And then an odd thing happened. The doorbell rang and Veronique walked in – with her mum. Behind them were two more people – Billy Lee and his mum. I stared, remembering that Veronique had said that Billy lived near them, and I watched as both mums thanked Auntie Mill and left. This was even more weird because the addition of two extra children didn’t seem to worry Auntie Mill at all. I couldn’t fathom it until she opened the back door.

  ‘Bye then,’ she said. ‘Have fun.’

  My eyes opened. ‘You’re … leaving?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes. Busy day.’

  ‘So we’ll be … on our own?’

  ‘What? No, of course not. You’ll be –’

  Auntie Mill didn’t finish because, at that moment, something else unexpected happened. I got this really strong smell that was sort of like metal flowers, and Uncle Chris hurried in. I hadn’t even realised he was there. He must have got back from Zurich last night after I fell asleep. Auntie Mill paused at the door and we all watched him talking very quickly on his phone while doing his tie up at the same time. And it was funny – it was like he was in a sort of tunnel. He didn’t seem to see Auntie Mill, or any of us, not even after he’d done his tie up and ended his phone call. He just grabbed his watch from the side and strapped it on, reminding me of the last time I’d seen him because he’d wanted to show it to me.

  ‘See. The second hand. Continuous motion. Sweeps round without stopping.’

  ‘You mean, it doesn’t tick?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘What a shame,’ I’d said. ‘Maybe you can get your money back.’

  When the watch was on, Uncle Chris hurried over to the door, only then noticing Auntie Mill. His eyes then landed on me.

  ‘Riiight!’ he said. ‘Yes. Cym-bo. Heard you were here. How goes it, old soldier? These your chums, yes?’

  ‘I am,’ Veronique said. ‘But not him. They hate each other.’

  ‘Great,’ said Uncle Chris, giving us a thumbs-up.

  With that, Uncle Chris turned back to Auntie Mill and smiled with his mouth shut, nodding at her, clearly expecting her to step out of the way so that he could dash out through the door. But – instead – she dashed through the door herself! And then she rammed it shut behind her! This seemed to confuse Uncle Chris because he stared at her.

  ‘Lo-ove?’ he said, reaching for the handle. ‘Mind if I just get past? So got to scoot. Whopper day.’

  ‘Cymbeline doesn’t like artichoke,’ said Auntie Mill from the other side of the door.

  This stopped Uncle Chris, and his mouth dropped open. ‘He doesn’t like …?’

  ‘Artichoke. Hates them. Just so you know.’

  ‘Great. Saved to the hard drive. But why do I need to know?’

  ‘Because you’ve got him today. And his friends.’

  Uncle Chris blinked. ‘I’ve …?’

  ‘Didn’t you get my text? Inset Day. Anyway, have fun!’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Look, love, I would chat but Zac really hates it when I’m late.’

  ‘Zac?’

  ‘Gets quite shirty actually. He’s doing great things with my backhand but I need the court time. You don’t grudge me do you, love? I mean, I’ve had the kids every day for, hmmm, now let me see, what is it, thirteen years now? Juni’s gone in with Clay, so you don’t have to worry about that, though you’ll have to pick them up later of course. But meanwhile you’ve got these three. Bye now.’

  ‘WAIT!’ screamed Uncle Chris.

  Uncle Chris then tried to pull the door open but he couldn’t – Auntie Mill had locked it from the outside. It took him a while to get it open with the spare key, by which time Auntie Mill had gone round to the front. Uncle Chris ran after her and we all followed as he screamed words like ‘Brexit’, ‘liquidity’ and ‘meltdown’ – followed by two of the words I’d heard at Charlton. Not that he should have bothered, though – Auntie Mill couldn’t hear. Her car was already halfway up the road, the sight of which made Uncle Chris shout the third Charlton word three times in a row. And then he turned to us.

  ‘Get in,’ he bellowed.

  For a second I thought he meant the house, but he didn’t. Uncle Chris meant his car, which was parked on the driveway right in front of us, though you might not have noticed it if you weren’t looking. Like Auntie Mill’s it’s very shiny, but there’s something about rich people’s cars: they’re either very high or extremely low. Uncle Chris’s barely came up to my knees, making me wonder if it would fit any actual people. We all did manage to squash in, though: me in the front and Veronique and Billy in the back. And we were OFF, the feeling as we zoomed up the road just like when Billy had shoved me in the back.

  At the end of the road Uncle Chris rammed the brakes on, jerking his head both ways as he searched in vain for Auntie Mill. Then he slammed his fists into the steering wheel.

  ‘Cymbo,’ he said, ‘where does your auntie play tennis?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, fighting for breath because the seatbelt was trying to strangle me. ‘Though Zac must be doing good things with her backhand. Did you know, she’s four–one up in the deciding set?’

  ‘[CHARLTON WORD],’ bellowed Uncle Chris, before bashing the steering wheel again. ‘Right then,’ he said.

  What he did next surprised me. Instead of taking us back home – and letting me finish my Weetabix – he turned right, into Blackheath Village. He went straight across the roundabout and sped past the train station before overtaking a big line of cars at the pinch point by going on completely the wrong side of the road. Epic! After that he sped on, cutting in here, overtaking there, while all the time he shouted into his phone, which he’d shoved into a holder on the dashboard. In the first call he used the Charlton words loads, and some other words I’d never heard before but which sounded so bad they must have been Premier League words that you only hear at clubs like Arsenal or Chelsea.
In the second he didn’t speak at all. He just listened, going as pale as a sucked ice lolly as we went over London Bridge, after which he took some really big deep breaths. Two minutes later he jammed the car to a stop outside this massive glass building.

  ‘It’s take-your-nephew-to-work day.’

  ‘Cool!’

  ‘But we’re not your nephews,’ Billy objected.

  ‘Then it’s take your nephew and their pals to work.’

  ‘And the people they hate,’ Veronique added, while I just looked at Uncle Chris in shock.

  ‘But I haven’t cleaned my teeth,’ I said.

  Uncle Chris didn’t seem to think that mattered because he jumped out of the car and told us to get a move on. I wanted to discuss enamel with him and bacteria, but I didn’t get the chance – he stuck his phone to his head again and carried on shouting as he marched us through this big spinny door. We hurried through a huge foyer that was as echoey as the swimming pool, and then zoomed up in this really fast glass lift. All the while Uncle Chris shouted into his phone, and when the lift opened the man he was shouting at was on his phone shouting back at him. They did that for a second or two before shoving their phones in their pockets.

  ‘We’re shafted!’ the other man shouted and Uncle Chris shouted,

  ‘I can’t believe this is [CHELSEA WORD], [ARSENAL WORD] happening!’

  They carried on shouting and then rushed towards this enormous room with loads of people in. They were all wearing suits and sitting at desks and all of them were shouting too. I wanted to say what Mum says to me and Lance sometimes: You’re in the same room. I didn’t get a chance, though, because no one was paying attention to us. Uncle Chris seemed to have forgotten we were there until he spun round and saw us, after which he turned to the nearest desk, where a young woman was typing at a computer.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Uncle Chris shouted.

  ‘Shah, sir. Alisha.’

  ‘And you are …?’

  ‘Graduate trainee.’

  ‘Well, today you’re a graduate babysitter. You have to look after these three.’

  ‘What?’ the girl said.