I was beginning to regret my big mouth, when Mandy came charging over with the Clones.
“Is there a problem?” said Mandy. Now they were standing with us side by side against Leanne and the Mutants. It was the best feeling.
“Oh, she’s been joined by all her LOSER friends,” shouted Leanne. The Mutants laughed like robots.
There were still more of them than of us, and it occurred to me that if it turned into a huge girl fight, we might not do so well.
It was then that Joshua Weston arrived, scowling, with Harry and Jake and about three other friends in tow—two of them were great big tall lads.
“Are you calling my sister a loser?” Joshua said to Leanne. “Because if you are, say it to me first.”
He turned to me. “Next time these idiots bother you, give us a shout, okay?”
I nodded. I could have kissed him, and Jake, and Harry. It had to be one of the top moments of my life so far, seeing Leanne’s face right then. There’s nobody more cowardly than a bully.
Leanne and the Mutants slunk off, like the hyenas in The Lion King.
“You all right, Mandy?” Joshua Weston turned and smiled at Mandy.
“Er … yeah!” she said, blushing absolutely crimson. She was so lost for words she couldn’t even come up with an insult.
8:10 p.m.
I went to see Great-Grandma Peters on the way home—since we got out early. She was watching a DIY show.
“Look at the state of that living room!” she was saying. “And they call it a makeover! More like an instant headache. Just look at that wallpaper! So how’s your mum? Is she still seeing that handsome young man?”
“No, Gran, she’s not,” I said.
“Pity,” she said, “he had very strong-looking forearms.”
When I got home, Loops rang and told me that Joshua Weston has split up with Jenny Caulfield, so I immediately told Mandy. She pretended not to be bothered, but I could see she was mega-happy about it. I am so pleased for her!
9:30 p.m.
Mandy is still smiling to herself. And even Mum is looking almost cheerful. She is sitting on the sofa surrounded by recipe books, planning the Christmas Eve menu. This is the most motivated I’ve seen her since Stuart left. Maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.
One of Dad’s favorite sayings when he was in Wise Mode was “It’s not what happens to you in life that says who you are, it’s how you react to what life throws at you.”
Despite everything that’s happened to her, despite what we’ve done, Mum has picked herself back up and is getting on with it. She’s in Determined Mode, and I know nothing’s going to get in her way.
I think Dad would be very proud of Mum right now. I know I am.
Christmas Eve: 5:00 p.m.
SHOPPING MODE
There are two types of Shopping Mode—“get it over with” Shopping Mode and “fun” Shopping Mode. Most male models of Grown-Ups tend to only function in “get it over with” Shopping Mode, especially if they are Christmas shopping for their wife or girlfriend.
A completely different type of Shopping Mode is Bargain Hunting—just hope that your Grown-Up does not go into this type of Shopping Mode or before you know it you’ll be going round endless yard sales with them, or fending for yourself while they spend eighteen hours at a time on eBay.
Mum’s in the kitchen cooking dinner for tonight and probably trying to keep her mind off what happened this afternoon in Oxford. We went up for some last-minute Christmas shopping.
Mum’s usually a “get it over with” shopper—when it comes to buying milk and bread at the Brindleton minimart, that is. But today in Oxford she was in full-on “fun” Shopping Mode.
We went to loads of shops and she was interested in everything—giving us advice about what to get and giving us all some extra cash, saying, “Don’t spend it all in the same shop!”
We went into one shop full of Christmas stuff—like decorations and joke presents. Mum loved it. It was good to see her so upbeat. She seemed to get a huge amount of pleasure out of trying on some joke reindeer antlers made of stuffed velvet with bells on.
“What do you think?” she asked, shaking her head so that the bells tinkled.
“You look fantastic,” I said, which was a bit of a White Lie, because she didn’t, she looked ridiculous. But I couldn’t bring myself to spoil her fun and neither could Mandy or Jack, who also told her she looked great.
Big mistake.
Mum not only bought herself a pair … she wore them out of the shop. Which is Brave Face Mode gone way too far, in my opinion.
Worse still, she continued to wear them when we went for a pizza. So when we sat down I was not surprised to see that Ben Clayden and his family were sitting three tables away from us. Of course he was there! He’s always around when something embarrassing is happening to me.
When I was actually in control of Mum, I would have been able to do something clever to get her to take the antlers off in five seconds flat. But I was so out of practice, I couldn’t think of anything!
I sneaked a glance from behind the giant laminated menu over at Ben Clayden, who was tucking into a pepperoni pizza. In a few seconds he’d be sure to notice us. Then something struck me. And this, for me, is huge.
I realized that despite Mum looking totally tragic and me having to be seen with her, I didn’t want her to take the antlers off. I realized that for once I didn’t care what Ben Clayden or anyone else thought. Wearing the reindeer antlers was making her happy. That was all that mattered.
So I ordered garlic bread and a salad and when Ben Clayden did look over and see us, I waved and gave him a big smile. And I realized something else. I was breathing normally. I felt fine—I felt hardly anything, in fact. I don’t want to have Ben Clayden’s children anymore!! I can’t wait to tell Hannah. She’ll be amazed.
After lunch, we went to the University Parks and walked along by the river—it was where we said we were going to go with Stuart the day of the Cunning Plan. Just going there made me feel incredibly guilty.
We were all bundled up in our scarves and woolly hats, hoping it might snow, and then the funniest thing happened. We bumped into Auntie Julie, who was obviously on one of her blind dates.
The man she was with was wearing a big fur hat, an old-fashioned suit and a long black velvet cloak fastened at the neck with some sort of bejeweled brooch. He looked like a character from one of those period dramas on TV that Mum likes. He was holding Auntie Julie’s arm with one hand, and in his other hand was a silver-topped cane! He was at least seventy, with a giant white bushy beard.
“Hello!” Auntie Julie said nervously. “Hector, this is my sister and her children. Alison, this is Hector. He’s a lecturer at Oxford University.”
“Auntie Julie,” said Jack, “why are you on a date with Santa Claus? Isn’t he about a thousand years old?”
I deliberately didn’t look at Mandy or I’d have cracked up. Jack opened his mouth ready to say something else, probably worse.
“Well, it’s a pity but we really have to rush. See you later, Julie,” said Mum hurriedly, grabbing Jack and walking briskly on.
“You know,” Mum said, as we walked away, shaking her antlers in wonder, “I always thought that Julie was exaggerating when she told me about her blind dates.”
“Let’s go to the Westgate Center,” said Mandy. “There’s people there wrapping Christmas presents for charity.”
“Only if the line’s not too long,” said Mum.
The charity Christmas present wrappers were sitting at a long table, wearing Santa hats and wrapping piles of presents in return for donations.
“I’m going to get them to wrap all my presents and then give them ten pence,” we heard a bloke in front of us boast. He had a mean, weasel-like face.
“I think there’s a minimum donation,” said his mate knowledgeably. “They’ve got to cover the cost of the paper.”
“Well, I’ll give the minimum,” said the man. Not
hing like getting in the Christmas spirit, I thought.
It was then that I spotted Stuart. He was the third Santa-hat-wearing person along. He was busy wrapping a bubble-bath set for an old lady, curling ribbon like an expert and managing to flirt with her at the same time.
I was quite shocked to see him. As I watched him being kind to the old lady, I thought that if Mum had to go out with someone, Stuart wasn’t that bad. He’s never been that bad. Imagine if she brought home that horrible weasel-faced man who wanted to give the charity ten pence? It would serve us right if she did.
Mum dug her fingers into my arm, which meant she’d seen Stuart too.
“Let’s go!” she said, pulling her antlers off with her other hand.
“Ow!” I protested.
“Go? Why?” said Mandy. “We’re near the front!”
At this point Jack saw Stuart and began to jump up and down in his usual mad-frog way, waving madly.
“Stuart! Stuart!”
“We’re going!” said Mum, just as Stuart saw us. The happy expression on his face disappeared instantly.
Mum grabbed Jack’s hand and we all began to walk away, with Jack shouting, “But I want to see Stuart!”
As we made our way through the crowd, I looked round and saw that Stuart had stood up and was craning his neck to try to spot us.
He didn’t come after us, though. He probably couldn’t abandon his old lady with her bubble bath half wrapped. Or they’d have taken his Santa hat away.
You know, if life was like a Hollywood film, he’d have come running after us, knocking people’s shopping bags flying. But life’s not like it is in the movies, is it?
Christmas Eve: 10:11 p.m.
DELIRIOUS MODE
Delirious Mode is like Happy Mode, but the happy feelings are multiplied by about a thousand. It does not happen often and can lead to Reckless Mode—so make sure you keep a close watch on your Grown-Up in such circumstances.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Mum is happy—more than happy. She’s fantastically, brilliantly ecstatic and it’s nothing to do with me! And I don’t care!
That’s why this is probably almost the last entry in this User’s Guide; after this what can I say? I mean, I’ve realized that if you completely ignore my advice you’d probably be making the best decision. I doubt this will ever get published. If it did, I might get sued for pretending I am an expert.
Here’s what happened.
Auntie Julie, Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave arrived with Hannah and Matthew at about six o’clock. The expression on their faces when we opened the door and the cooking smell hit their nostrils was hilarious. I wish I’d had the camera handy to capture the look of complete horror.
Auntie Julie rushed into the kitchen,
“I so need a drink!” she gasped. “That … man! He said in his personal ad that he was in his forties! I wasn’t expecting a senior citizen!”
Mum poured her a large glass of wine.
“Speaking of older people,” Mum said, “Mum and Dad are coming too.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang and there were Nan and Granddad Williams. Granddad was brandishing a turnip triumphantly, for no particular reason.
“What do you think of this, then?” he said by way of hello.
I think old people’s sense of smell is not so good, as they didn’t seem too upset by the strange odors wafting through from the kitchen.
“Sit down at the table, everyone,” said Mum. “This is a proper dinner party!”
You could see she was making a big effort to show everyone she was okay, still in Brave Face and Determined modes, but her happy act didn’t fool me. Her mouth was smiling and she was saying all the right, cheery things. But her eyes were still sad.
We don’t have the biggest house and we don’t have a proper dining room, so Mum had rigged up the kitchen table together with another folding table to make one big table in the lounge.
The sofa was pushed against the wall to make room, so we had to climb over one another to get to our seats, which were all of different types and heights. I was in an office chair that’s usually used for the computer.
When we all had managed to sit down and everyone had their drinks, Mum came through with the appetizer.
“Have you ever tried jellied eel bruschetta?” she inquired.
I do not know how we all did it, but we actually managed to eat that starter. I am certain that it will stay in our memories for many years to come. Nan had brought a couple of bottles of vintage Cava, which soon disappeared.
“It seems to help get rid of the taste,” whispered Auntie Julie as she poured herself a third glass.
Not being allowed to drink, I had to resort to running upstairs and swilling my mouth out with mint mouthwash.
I’d just got back down and was preparing myself mentally for the main course when the doorbell rang. Auntie Susan answered it.
“Oh! What a surprise!” we heard her say, and then Stuart was standing in the room. Rascal flew at him like a little, white, furry guided missile and started leaping up at him madly, yelping with joy and excitement. It was like he was a puppy again.
In the middle of the commotion, Mum emerged from the kitchen holding a casserole dish.
“Stuart!” she cried, and then she carefully put the dish down on the table. I had secretly hoped, since it was a moment of great emotion, that she might drop it. No such luck.
Stuart looked around the room at us all.
“I’ve got something to say,” he said, “and I need you all to listen. Apart from Jack, here, most of you have made it very clear that you don’t want me in your family, so I walked away.
“I thought it was unfair to Alison for her to be stuck in the middle. But I’ve had time to think about things, and do you know what? If I have to put up with you lot to be with Alison, then I’ll just have to. I’ll put up with everything you throw at me.”
He looked at Mum then.
“I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. If you still want me, I’m yours. But from now on I’ve got to be honest with you. If I don’t say this now I might never say it and it has to be said. You are the worst cook I’ve ever met. You have no idea how terrible you are … you are so, so bad at it!”
At this point, Mum sat down in her chair, put her face in her hands and burst into tears.
“It’s all right,” said Auntie Julie, patting Mum’s shoulder and glaring at Stuart, “he’s just leaving.”
Mum looked up, puffy-eyed. Her nose was red. Not attractive.
“But I don’t want him to go,” she wailed. “I want him to stay!”
Stuart did not seem to mind Mum’s mutant puffy-eyed, Rudolph-the-Red-Nosed-Reindeer look (which was very convincing, seeing as she was wearing her comedy antlers). He was gazing at her adoringly.
“What I want to know,” said Nan, who was slightly under the influence of the vintage Cava, “is why you’re here, upsetting my daughter, instead of spending Christmas with your own family. Or doesn’t family mean much to you?”
Stuart looked at the ceiling in despair, exactly like a teacher would when a pupil says or does something spectacularly stupid. Funnily enough, I know that look well.
Before he could say anything, Mum got to her feet.
“Do you mind?” she said, looking at Stuart.
“It’s okay,” he said, “you can tell them.”
Mum cleared her throat.
“Stuart was taken into foster care when he was six. He went to his final set of foster parents when he was sixteen and he was only with them for a short time. They’re the parents he sees a couple of times a year.”
We all looked at Stuart, whose face had reddened. I could see that this was hard for him. At last he spoke.
“I’ve spent years never feeling like I ever belonged anywhere. My foster parents, the last ones I had, helped me make something of myself. But while they’re fantastic friends and I’ll always be grateful to them, they’re not family. I have
no family.
“When I met Alison, I got to know all of you and saw how much you all looked out for each other—even if you drove each other mad. I felt that I was looking in at something special.”
Then he looked directly at Nan, who was—perhaps for the first time in her life—looking shamefaced.
“You can say a lot of things about me and you’d probably be right, but don’t ever tell me I don’t care about family. Believe it or not, I care a lot about yours.”
There was a long silence.
Uncle Dave stood up.
“I’ll get us another chair from upstairs—why don’t you take this one, mate?”
Stuart sat down. Mum, who was looking happier than I’ve ever seen her, lifted the lid on the casserole dish. An indescribably foul stink swept across the table.
“I can’t believe you’re saying I can’t cook,” she said defiantly as she stirred the unidentifiable mixture with the serving spoon. “Everyone loves my cooking!”
Mandy, who was sitting beside Mum, put her arm around her.
“Listen, there’s something we’ve all been meaning to tell you.…”
Half an hour later, the pizzas arrived.
CHRISTMAS EVE: MUCH LATER
Later on, Jack disappeared, then rushed back into the room, shouting that it was snowing! We all rushed outside and stood in wonder in the garden.
No matter how many times it happens, snow always takes you by surprise. There’s something magical about it. And this was the perfect snow, great big flakes falling slowly and settling on the ground. It was already several centimeters deep. It must have been falling silently for an hour or so.
We stood enjoying it, Jack dancing about like a little mad elf. Even Mandy was smiling.
I saw that Stuart had his arm around Mum and she was snuggled into his side. I felt a little tug of sadness that it was Stuart and not Dad, but at least she was happy.
It seemed as good a moment as any, so I went up to her.
Diary of a Parent Trainer Page 18
