Diary of a Parent Trainer

by Jennifer Smith

  “No. And even if I did, he’s made it clear that he’s only interested because you and Hannah are not available.”

  “Really …?” said Loops, looking pleased.

  “So how long did he say a giraffe’s tongue is?” asked Hannah, and she dissolved into laughter again. Soon she and Loops were practically holding on to each other in order to stay standing up.

  “Well, I’m glad I’m providing you with entertainment!” I said, slightly hurt.

  Hannah wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh, sorry, but it’s so funny!”

  I decided to ignore their incredible childishness.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. (Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.) “So what happened after I left?”

  “Nothing much,” said Loops.

  “Come on!”

  “Well, Neil kissed me … but not in a serious kissing way,” confessed Hannah, dreamily. “He’s so …!” She was lost for words. That’s love for you.

  “What about you and Thomas?” I asked Loops as casually as I could.

  “We just talked,” she said.

  I felt relieved. But who am I kidding??? Loops is not one to take no for an answer. It won’t be long till she’s got him where she wants him (in the teenagers’ shelter).

  I’ve got to stop feeling this way about Thomas Finch. It means I’ve got a secret from Hannah and Loops, and I’ve NEVER kept anything from them before.

  Friday, October 23: Midnight

  SAD MODE

  When a Grown-Up goes into Sad Mode, it is usually because of something that has happened. It could be something trivial or it could be something much bigger and more important. You might not even be able to work out what it is. There are lots of clever things you can try, like mode-switching and the Distraction Technique or a great big soppy cuddle … but sometimes you have to accept there’s not much you can do except just be there and try not to make things worse.

  Today was the anniversary of the day Dad died. It’s always a difficult day. I’m glad that out of respect Mum didn’t ask Stuart over. She was very quiet at breakfast and when we got home from school. She’s in Sad Mode.

  I know all about Sad Mode in Grown-Ups; it could be my specialist subject. After all, I saw Mum go through the whole process.

  It was like losing two parents—Dad and the happy mum we had before he died. That’s why it was so difficult and mixed up. We wanted our happy mum back, but she had disappeared. She tried to hide that she was in Sad Mode, but it was there even when on the surface we were having fun. It was hiding behind her eyes.

  The good news is that things usually improve, if Grown-Ups get the right support. It may take a while, but things do get better.

  That’s life. Nobody can be happy all the time; every Grown-Up gets sad at some time in their lives. Don’t take it personally. I used to with Mum. I’d think, If I was not so horrible and selfish, then she would not be like this, or, We’re not important enough for her to snap out of it. She couldn’t help it; she needed time to get over it and, eventually, she did.

  But the anniversary still gets her. In a funny way, I’m glad about that. It shows that Stuart hasn’t completely replaced Dad. It shows that despite the Memory Capacity issues, she hasn’t forgotten him. And she never will, I should have realized that. She’ll always be in Love Mode with him.

  I’m using my headlamp to write this again. I have to admit, it has come in handy for this guide, if nothing else. I’m at Hannah’s, and she’s just gone to sleep. This week Jonathan Elliott didn’t come near me. Even though he might be the most stubborn person I know, even he got the hint last weekend.

  I almost miss his constant presence, him telling me that there’s no word in the English language that rhymes with month, orange, silver or purple, or that a group of twelve or more cows is known as a “flink.”

  Yesterday was horrible. I spotted Thomas and Loops holding hands on the playground. Seeing it actually made me feel awful. He pulled his hand away when I walked up, which made me wonder if it was more to do with her than him.

  But on a brighter note, Mr. Catchpole has taken a leave of absence because of stress and has been replaced with Miss Allen, who all the boys fancy because she’s twenty-four and wears tight jumpers. And other good stuff has happened.

  The highlights of this week were as follows:

  1) Mum has a cold, so she hasn’t been cooking and we’ve had decent food.

  2) Mum backdated all the pocket money she forgot to give us, so we’re rich.

  3) When I went over to Great-Grandma Peters’s house she gave me five pounds for cleaning her kitchen. Now I’m even richer.

  4) Me and Hannah and Loops have had a running joke about giraffes’ tongues all week and even now I am snickering.

  Saturday, October 24: 1:00 a.m.

  Why can’t I get to sleep? Too much to think about, I suppose. Tonight Hannah was incredibly sappy about Neil Parkhouse. He’s so funny. He’s so good-looking. He’s so good at soccer. The usual. I decided to ask her the big question.

  “So are you in love?”

  Hannah wouldn’t give me a definite answer, so I guess she is. Then she dropped the bombshell.

  “I got permission from Mum, and me and Neil are allowed to go up to Oxford to the movies next Friday night, as long as his mum drives us home.…”

  Her words trailed off as she saw the expression on my face. Friday night has always been our sleepover night for as long as I can remember. I can hardly remember ever not spending Friday night at Hannah’s house.

  “Oh … look … I’m sorry,” she said. “I had to say no to Saturday because of Uncle Pete and Auntie Paula’s party, so I didn’t want to say no to Friday as well in case he thought I was putting him off. Look, I’ll text him right now and cancel it.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I mean, this was going to happen someday, wasn’t it? It could have been me. You go out. I’ll be fine.”

  Hannah gave me a huge hug.

  “You’re my best friend and double cousin in the world,” she said.

  I smiled. But inside I was feeling sad. It was like something was ending, and I know that feeling well.

  1:20 a.m.

  It’s time to tell you about Dad’s last day. If sadness is about endings, this was his.

  Mandy and me took turns sitting with Mum beside Dad’s bed while the other one walked around the grounds with Sheila from the local child bereavement service.

  Sheila started seeing us in the last few weeks of Dad’s life, and she was very matter-of-fact and easy to talk to. She explained things we didn’t understand and we could talk about anything at all, including things that we were worried or unsure about. She wore a blue fleece that was exactly the same color as her eyes. It’s funny the things you remember about a person.

  People like Sheila should get giant, enormous medals. You don’t know they’re out there quietly doing jobs like that until something happens to you, and then … well, you’re just glad they’re there.

  Uncle Dave came by at lunchtime and had some time with Dad. When he left he couldn’t speak to us, he just hugged us and left. Gran and Grandpa Sutton had come the night before and stayed most of the night, and they were going to come in again that night to give Mum a break.

  I went in and saw Dad late that afternoon. Mum was holding his hand, and he was going to sleep, then waking up for a bit, then going to sleep again.

  One of the times he was awake, he looked straight at me. It was as if he was trying to memorize my face; he just looked and looked. Then he whispered something, but I couldn’t hear, so I moved closer.

  “Are you fantastic?”

  I had such a big lump in my throat I could hardly reply.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you brave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a porcupine?”

  I shook my head and I was biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry in front of him.

  He just smiled th
is lovely smile and closed his eyes again.

  So those were my dad’s last ever words to me: “Are you a porcupine?” Try explaining that to people.

  Auntie Julie took Mandy and me home, or rather to Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave’s house, where Jack was.

  On the way I was looking out of the car window at the sunset, thinking that you never know when it’s gone, you just know that one moment it’s there and then somehow it isn’t anymore. Like Dad. Sunsets are so quiet.

  Sheila kept visiting us for quite a while after Dad died. One time I told her about what I’d been thinking about on our way home that night, about the sunset, and she said the best thing ever. She said, “You know what I think whenever I see a sunset? I think that when the sun has gone and we can’t see it anymore, it’s just arriving somewhere else.”

  Maybe that’s how we need to think of all endings, like the ending with Hannah and our Friday-night sleepovers. An ending is usually also a beginning. It’s just we’re never quite sure what it’s the beginning of.

  2:00 a.m.

  I’ve just read over everything I’ve written tonight. I wrote about how Mum was in Sad Mode for so long and how I wanted to get the old happy Mum back.

  I don’t suppose I quite know when it happened, it must have happened gradually, but the truth is, she’s back. Our happy mum, the one we missed. Apart from today, which is understandable, Mum’s not in Sad Mode anymore. And I haven’t wanted to admit this, but the truth is I think Stuart has a lot to do with it.

  So what’s going to happen after we do the Cunning Plan? What will happen then?

  Friday, October 30: 4:27 p.m.

  WISE MODE

  Very occasionally, Grown-Ups will switch into Wise Mode. This is where they actually speak a great deal of sense and say something filled with great insight and perception. This is a very unusual occurrence. Do not expect it to happen very often.

  I said before that when my dad died Love Mode was the last mode that he lost, because it was the most important one.

  But before that, Dad was in Wise Mode. I suppose he wanted to make sure he told me everything he thought I’d need to know. He said something to me when he was ill that I’ve never forgotten.

  He said, “I’ve spent my life thinking things were important that aren’t. Things like the size of your house or the type of car you have or where you can afford to take your family on holiday.

  “I thought I was right to want the best for you all. But you know what? None of that matters. All that matters is that people love each other. Love your family and your friends and treat people right. Nothing else is important.”

  I often think about what he said, when I wish that we lived in a bigger house or that we could go on holidays abroad like other people do.

  I’d love to live somewhere more exciting than Brindleton, like London. But if Dad’s right and nothing matters except relationships and your family, then it would be pretty idiotic to go and live someplace where I don’t know anybody. Unless I got lots of new friends—better-looking and more interesting ones than my relatives (which would not be difficult). But something makes me think that’s not quite what my dad had in mind.

  Family is SO important in Brindleton. Perhaps it’s because we can’t avoid each other, but if you need help family’s the first place you go. This is why I suppose Nan and Auntie Julie and Auntie Susan and everybody are suspicious about Stuart. We’re all pretty puzzled by him not visiting his family. It makes us think there’s something not quite right about him.

  I need to stop thinking about all this. I’ve felt anxious and nervous ever since I got back from school and I don’t even know why. It’s just so unlike me. I’m going to find Jack and Rascal. One of them is bound to want to come out for a walk.

  7:05 p.m.

  I went to the park with Jack and Rascal. Big mistake. I saw Loops there with Thomas Finch, in the teenagers’ shelter. Not kissing, just chatting away. They waved and I waved back, and then dragged poor puzzled Jack and Rascal straight back home. Hideous. Consoled myself by buying me and Jack a big bag of chips.

  I knew she’d get him in that shelter. It was only a matter of time.

  10:15 p.m.

  It’s getting late now and I’ve realized there are two reasons why I am feeling strange. The first is that for the first time in years and years I’m not at Hannah’s house. I’m sitting in Mum’s bedroom writing this and listening to the Clones screaming in our room about the boys they like.

  Hannah and Neil Parkhouse will—right now—be on their way back from Oxford and their first “proper date.” I hope it went well. Hannah is so the type to have a steady boyfriend and then end up marrying him.

  That means Loops and Thomas will have been alone together all evening. And if they were already in the teenagers’ shelter hours ago, who knows what they’ve been getting up to?

  The second reason I feel odd is that tomorrow is the big day—the day of the Cunning Plan. We thought the whole thing up just a few weeks ago, but it seems like we’ve been waiting to do it forever.

  After Jack went to bed tonight, Mum and me watched Hairspray. It was brilliant. It’s now in my top ten movies of all time. Official. We closed the door so we couldn’t hear the Clones, then we snuggled up on the sofa and scarfed microwave popcorn.

  “It’s nice doing this,” said Mum, “just the two of us. I hope we’re always going to have evenings like this—even when I’m an old lady!”

  It got me thinking about how maybe she’s not changing that much. Perhaps she can still be like the old mum even if she’s with Stuart. Has it been me all along, not wanting to get used to the new situation? But it’s far too late to go down that road. Whatever I think, there’s no going back now.

  Saturday, October 31: 8:44 p.m.

  CRYING MODE

  Some Grown-Ups cry at anything. All it takes for some is a sad film, or the Dogs Shelter advertisement, and they cry so much they could fill a small bathtub.

  Some models of Grown-Up secretly enjoy being in Crying Mode and they feel great when they’ve “had a good cry.” Other models, however, only cry when something really upsetting or awful has happened.

  It’s all over. Mum is crying her heart out in her bedroom. I could not feel worse than I do right now.

  I’d better start at the beginning. Auntie Julie came over as planned for morning coffee.

  “When is Stuart getting here?” she asked.

  “Oh, early afternoon,” said Mum. “He’s nervous about the party, meeting all the family again.”

  “He’ll be fine,” soothed Auntie Julie, “but listen, I’ve had this wonderful idea. Well, Mandy and Katie thought of it too.”

  “What idea?” said Mum.

  “Mandy wants to get you looking fantastic for the party,” said Auntie Julie, as casually as she could, “so she’s asked if the rest of us could keep Stuart busy this afternoon. I was thinking that I could take Stuart and Jack and Katie up to the University Parks for a walk along the river.”

  “I don’t know …,” said Mum. “I didn’t think it would take me that long to get ready.…”

  “Go on, let me do this,” coaxed Auntie Julie. “Mandy’s got something fantastic planned for you and she wants it to be a surprise.”

  “All right,” said Mum, who’s obviously lost all her Intuitive Functions. “I suppose we’ve always enjoyed the getting-ready part.”

  It was arranged that Auntie Julie and me would whisk Stuart and Jack away after lunch so Mandy could begin to work her magic on Mum.

  When he arrived, Stuart was as unenthusiastic as Mum about the Plan, but had to go along with it, as he had no choice. He was very quiet at lunchtime, as if he was preoccupied about something. This could, of course, have been the sardines and mozzarella on toast.

  I should explain at this point that it was never Auntie Julie’s intention to actually take me and Stuart and Jack to Oxford. We walked to Auntie Julie’s house and got them in her car, and then Auntie Julie pretended it wouldn�
�t start.

  “Oh dear,” she said, turning to Stuart, “and we can’t fit in your car, can we? Oh well, we’ll have to think of something else to keep us busy for an hour or so.”

  “But I wanted to feed the ducks!” said a crestfallen Jack. I felt terrible that we’d built up his hopes of getting out of Brindleton for a few hours.

  Stuart patted Jack on the back. “Never mind, mate,” he said, “we’ll think of something else fun to do. How about a hike?”

  “We can’t do that,” said Auntie Julie quickly. “I couldn’t keep up on one of your hikes. I know, why don’t you come and visit some of the family? You’ve not met Great-Grandma Peters, have you? Apparently, when she was a young girl, she looked just like Alison.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea …,” said Stuart, looking cornered. But he was up against Auntie Julie, so he didn’t have a hope.

  So—as proposed all along in the Cunning Plan—we took poor Stuart to Great-Grandma Peters’s house, where he had a preview of what Mum could be like in fifty years—a tiny and aggressive woman who swears a lot and has a face like a walnut.

  Great-Grandma Peters was watching a cooking show and was not impressed with some celebrity chef.

  “Now, that’s an unholy mess,” she said. “I wouldn’t feed it to the dog. What does he think he’s doing? What a stupid idiot he is with that haircut! So, who are you, then?”

  “This is Stuart, Mum’s boyfriend,” I said.

  Great-Grandma Peters looked Stuart up and down with her beady little eyes.

  “Not bad-looking,” she said, “but he’s not a patch on Mike. Mike was the love of Alison’s life, you know. They started going out when they were Katie’s age, just thirteen. Ah, she’ll never find another the same. Can I offer you a cookie? Or would you prefer a custard cream?”

  We knew we could rely on Great-Grandma Peters to say whatever came into her head—and that it would be completely tactless. It’s not that she means to hurt people’s feelings; she just tells it like it is.