Alice in Time

by Penelope Bush

  At the sound of the smashing tile, all the children stop what they’re doing and a deafening hush descends on the playground. Not for long, though.

  Miss Strickland shouts, ‘Which stupid child threw that ball?’ I go hot and then cold and I’m about to step forward, on very shaky legs, when Sasha’s hand shoots up into the air next to me, nearly taking my ear off.

  ‘I did, Miss Strickland,’ says Sasha. Her cheeks are slightly pink, but her chin is held high. I try to catch her eye. Surely this isn’t another of her bids for attention? Did her hand go up automatically like it does in class? But she won’t look at me. Her and Miss Strickland’s eyes are locked.

  ‘My office. Now, young lady. The rest of you go and get changed – quietly!’

  As I put my uniform back on I wonder what’s happening in the headmistress’s office. I wonder, if it was me in there now and not Sasha, if I would have the nerve to tell Miss Strickland that she should have been paying attention to the class, and that it was an accident, and she shouldn’t punish small children for accidents. Somehow, I doubt it. She still terrifies me.

  We file back into the classroom and the other children tell Miss Carter what happened. I feel really bad. No one, except Sasha, saw me throw that ball.

  When she comes back in, all the other children stare at her and giggle, but she holds her head high and takes her seat next to me. Reluctantly, I have to admire her style.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ I whisper as we all make our way to the carpet area where Miss Carter is getting ready to read to us before hometime.

  ‘It’s OK,’ says Sasha. ‘I know how scared you are of Miss Strickland. She was horrible and she would definitely have made you cry, but all the time she was shouting at me I just pictured her sitting on the loo with her knickers round her knees.’ Sasha laughs and squeezes my hand. ‘I pretended she was constipated because she was so red in the face.’

  I laugh too at this image of horrible Miss Strickland. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that for me,’ I tell Sasha. And it’s true, I can’t.

  ‘Of course I would, silly. You’re my best friend.’

  At hometime, when we’re in the cloakroom getting our coats on, the other girls are still being mean to Sasha. Because nobody’s talking to her, this generally consists of bumping into her and whispering about her while giving her sly looks. I now feel really bad about what’s happening.

  I try to remind myself how horrible Sasha has been to me all through secondary school. This is a very odd feeling because we’re all seven and secondary school is miles off for us, but the truth is it happened – and I must remember that.

  The trouble is, though, aren’t I being just as bad? What if I turn into the Bitch Queen from Hell? I try to console myself with the thought that I’m simply getting my own back on Sasha for the way she’s treated me. But she hasn’t actually treated me like that yet, which makes me feel doubly mean because she doesn’t know why it’s happening.

  The trouble is, it did feel great to begin with, but now I’m not so sure. I feel kind of depressed about it. Like I’m some big kid picking on a small kid. I know we appear to be the same age, but deep down I’m still fourteen and ought to know better.

  Still, enough of this. I need to go to the library now and put my ‘Save the Watkins family’ campaign into action.

  Outside in the playground I walk as nonchalantly as possible towards the gates so that nobody realises I’m leaving on my own. I’m just about to slip out when I hear my name being called.

  There’s a woman standing at the gates waiting for me, and it isn’t my mother. Oh my God! It’s my gran!

  Chapter Six

  ‘Hello, hunnybun,’ says Gran. ‘I bet you weren’t expecting to see me.’

  She’s not wrong there. I’m so overcome, I’m speechless. Of all the weird situations that this weird situation I’m in has thrown up, this has to be the weirdest yet. In fact, it’s a bit scary. Seeing someone who is by all accounts dead is not something I’m used to. OK, so it happened with Miss Maybrooke and even Sooty, but this is different. This is my own gran!

  Of course, there’s nothing unusual about it for Gran. She’s carrying on like nothing is weird.

  ‘Your mum had to go into the hospital this morning, so I’ve come to look after you. Isn’t that exciting? A new baby sister – or brother – on the way.’

  I force my mouth into a smile.

  She carries on. ‘I hope you don’t mind not going to Sasha’s for tea tonight. I suppose I’d better have a word with her mum and explain what’s happening.’

  This galvanises me out of my stupor. ‘It’s OK, Gran. I’ll sort it out,’ and I dash off across the playground to where Sasha is standing while her mum chats away to some of the other mums. Obviously I’ve got to say something now I’m here and it can’t be, ‘Sorry, I can’t come to tea after all’, so when Sasha smiles at me and says, ‘Hello’, I say, ‘Look, I’m really sorry about earlier – you know – playing with Clara and Chelsea and everything. And thank you for what you did. About the ball and stuff. It was really nice of you.’ And I realise, as I’m saying it, that I actually am sorry.

  ‘Shall I ask my mum if you can come to tea tonight?’ she says. ‘We could play that Puppy game.’

  ‘I can’t, not today – my gran’s here. I think my mum’s having the baby. Maybe another night.’

  Walking home with Gran is really difficult. I want to tell her about all the things that have happened since she died, about how Mum and Dad divorced and about moving to George Street, about school and having to help with Rory and maybe even about Seth. I’m bursting with all this information and I can’t tell her any of it because it hasn’t happened yet. Because I’m so busy not saying all this I end up saying nothing.

  ‘You’re very quiet today,’ comments Gran. ‘I hope you’re not worrying about your mum. She’ll be fine. We’ll ring the hospital when we get home and see how she’s doing.’

  Actually, I am worried. I haven’t really thought too much about Mum giving birth. I’ve been too wrapped up in adjusting to my new life with Mum and Dad and haven’t really realised it was going to happen so soon. I’m terrified that I’m running out of time and haven’t achieved anything yet.

  I feel really helpless. ‘Get a grip,’ I tell myself firmly. I can do this. And then I realise that I’ve got another problem to add to my list. Gran.

  It’s terrible walking along next to somebody, knowing that they only have about a year to live, and they don’t know it. Maybe, if I could somehow get her to go to a doctor now, if it was picked up early enough, then she might not die. This realisation is frightening. Could I somehow save Gran? As well as Sooty and my parents’ marriage?

  Suddenly everything is too much. What I would give right now to have my old problems back. Seth’s betrayal, Mum’s nagging and the row with Imogen would all be bliss compared to what’s facing me now. At the time, I thought my life was awful and that it couldn’t get any worse. Now I feel embarrassed that I made such a fuss about such pointless things.

  When we get home I follow Gran into the kitchen, because I can’t bear to let her out of my sight. It’s a bit like finding a precious jewel in a dung heap. I nearly trip over Gran’s suitcase, which is standing in the hallway. I wish she didn’t live so far away.

  ‘I’ll just have a nice cup of tea before I ring the hospital,’ she says, putting the kettle on. ‘Would you like some squash?’

  ‘I’d rather have a cup of tea,’ I tell her.

  ‘OK, one tea coming up.’

  I remember that the thing I liked most about Gran was that she always treated me like a grown up. Which is a huge relief now, of course. Maybe I can really talk to her after all – even try and explain what’s happening. But then she hands me my tea, which is way too weak with too much sugar in it. It’s ‘baby tea’, I realise, because her own cup is nice and strong. She might pretend to treat me like an adult, but she obviously still sees me as a little kid.

  We
sit opposite each other at the kitchen table. I can’t stop staring at her. It is a bit like having tea with a ghost.

  ‘Why so serious?’ asks Gran.

  ‘Well,’ I say, nibbling on a fingernail, ‘basically, my life is about to go down the pan. I think that Mum is going to throw Dad out and that we’ll have to move to a horrid house and Mum won’t be able to cope especially since —’ I’m about to say ‘you’ve got cancer’ but manage to stop myself just in time.

  ‘Blimey!’ says Gran with a twinkle in her eye. ‘That’s a lot of weight to be carrying on such small shoulders.’ Then she sees my face and suddenly becomes serious. She reaches over the table and holds my hands.

  ‘Listen, Alice, I know this new baby is going to mean that life will change a bit for you and that you’ll have to share Mummy from now on, but don’t look at it as a bad thing. It will be lovely to have a little sister to look after —’

  ‘It’s a boy,’ I interrupt.

  ‘Or a little brother,’ she continues, ‘but I’m sure that everything will carry on just as normal.’

  Of course, I hadn’t really expected Gran to take me seriously, and although it’s a relief to say these things out loud I’m still upset that she thinks it’s all nonsense. She must have seen my disappointment because she squeezes my hands and says, ‘If there is one thing I’m certain of it’s that your mum is not going to throw your dad out, so you don’t need to worry on that score.’ She gets up and goes to the cupboard to find the biscuit tin. When she’s got her back to me I hear her mumbling, ‘More’s the pity. She’s a fool when it comes to that man.’

  ‘You don’t like him?’

  She turns round looking guilty and says, ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like him, but I won’t pretend I was happy when your mum married him. He’s not what you would call good marriage material.’ Suddenly she seems to realise that she’s talking to a seven-year-old and laughs. ‘Anyway, I’m sure it will work out fine. It has so far.’

  ‘But what if it doesn’t? Could you talk to them?’

  ‘It’s not my place to interfere,’ says Gran briskly. ‘Now, if you’ve finished your tea, I’ll go and ring the hospital.’

  ‘No, wait!’ I grip her hands so she doesn’t get up and disappear. She’s the first person not to treat me like a child and I want to make the most of it.

  ‘What is it?’ she asks. ‘Not more problems, I hope,’ but she’s smiling and I know she doesn’t mind.

  There’s something that’s been bothering me, even with everything else that’s been going on. I decide to run it past Gran.

  ‘OK, say there was this boy at school and I really liked him and we started playing together and I thought he liked me, but then I heard this girl say that she’d bet him all her pocket money that he couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .’ obviously I can’t say ‘get into her knickers’, so I finish, ‘erm . . . kiss me.’

  Gran looks thoughtful.

  ‘Well, first of all I’d say the girl was probably jealous. Maybe she saw the boy playing with you and didn’t like it and bet him her pocket money to kiss you because she wanted to spoil things. Did he try to kiss you?’

  My mind goes back to the night in the park. Oops, I’m in danger of losing focus here. Must concentrate. Yes, he kissed me, but that’s not what we’re really talking about here. He didn’t try and get into my knickers, which is what the bet was.

  ‘No,’ I say, ‘we just had a nice time playing.’

  ‘Well then,’ says Gran, ‘if I were you I’d ignore the girl and what you heard, and listen to your heart. If you think he likes you he probably does, so you should carry on playing with him. Don’t stop on account of some silly girl.’

  Of course! I know in my gut that Seth did like me and wasn’t pretending. And to think that I was going to let that stuff Sasha said ruin it for me. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe her. I look gratefully at Gran.

  ‘You’re right,’ I tell her. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No problem,’ says Gran. I see that she looks tired. God! How could I be so selfish! I’ve been going on about myself and my stupid problems, problems that don’t even exist any more, when it’s Gran I should be thinking of.

  ‘Gran?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Listen. I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt you were ill and you wouldn’t go to the doctor. It was really scary, Gran. Please, please, please will you go to a doctor and then I can stop worrying.’

  Gran laughs.

  ‘Good heavens,’ she says, ‘I think we’d better get you a crystal ball.’ She drags the now cool teapot over and, placing it between us, puts my hands on it like it’s a crystal ball. Then she laughs again. ‘Can you see anything else in the tea leaves, Gypsy Alice?’

  ‘Gran! I’m serious!’

  ‘That’s what’s so funny,’ she says. ‘The thing is, I have been feeling out of sorts lately and I went to the doctor, so don’t worry.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Well, she’s not sure what’s wrong with me so she’s doing tests. I’m sure it will be fine.’ She doesn’t say this last bit with any conviction, though, and when I study her face she doesn’t look worried like you’d expect – she looks sad. And then I know that she knows about the cancer and all the planning in the world isn’t going to change this one.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ she says, using a finger to wipe away the tear that’s running down my cheek. But she doesn’t try to make light of it, she just looks even more sad.

  ‘Listen,’ she goes on, ‘if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life it’s that feeling sorry for yourself is a big waste of time. If there’s something about your life that you don’t like, then change it, and if it really can’t be changed, you have to learn to live with it. Moping or getting angry just makes life unpleasant.’

  I can see her mentally shaking her sadness off and focusing her eyes back on me.

  ‘Now that,’ she says, ‘is strictly between you and me. I don’t want your mum worrying about me while she’s got a new baby to look after.’ She stands up. ‘I’m going to ring the hospital and see if that baby’s made an appearance yet.’

  Sooty marches into the room and stands at the back door meowing. Gran goes across to let him out.

  ‘Wait!’ I shout. Her hand stops midway to the door handle. ‘Sooty isn’t allowed out,’ I tell Gran.

  I’ve just had an idea. If he doesn’t go out at all, he can’t get run over.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asks Gran.

  ‘He mustn’t go out. The vet said. Mum was going to get him a litter tray this morning. She must have forgotten.’

  ‘Oh my,’ says Gran. ‘What a palaver. He does look pretty desperate.’

  ‘Don’t panic,’ I tell her, diving for the cupboard under the sink, where I pull out an old roasting tin that Dad ruined on the barbecue. ‘We can use this for now.’ I hand it to her. ‘I’ll hold Sooty while you fill it with soil from the garden.’

  ‘Goodness, you are a resourceful girl,’ says Gran, obviously impressed. She’s not the only one. I’m pretty impressed by my quick thinking as well.

  I grab Sooty so that he can’t escape out of the door when Gran goes out to get the soil. He doesn’t like it and struggles to get free.

  ‘Stop it,’ I tell him. ‘I’m doing this for your own good. It’s not forever. Just until Mum gets back.’

  He scratches the back of my hand, but I don’t mind. For the first time I feel like I’m actually doing something to change things.

  I leave Gran to ring the hospital and go up to my room. I need some time to think about what’s happened.

  I dig out the notebook and look at the list.

  1. Stop Sooty from getting run over.

  2. Stop Mum and Dad from splitting up.

  3. Find a way to get back to reality (?)

  4. Make Sasha’s life hell.

  I’m tempted to tick off number one, but decide I’d better wait. I don’t want to tempt fate.

  Number t
wo is still a problem. I never did get to the library to get those marriage guidance leaflets, or the Gambler’s Anonymous stuff. I haven’t done enough. All I’ve done about it so far is to listen to Mum and Dad arguing. I suppose I did try and get Dad not to go out. Big deal. It didn’t even work. OK, so what have I learnt from their arguments?

  a)That Mum’s unhappy about Dad going to the pub and the bookies so much.

  b)That Dad’s unhappy about Mum nagging him all the time and me whining.

  That seems a bit unfair. After all, it’s his behaviour that’s making us nag and whine. Or maybe it’s the fact that we nag and whine that’s driving him out of the house and to the pub and the bookies. God! I don’t know.

  It’s all very well for Gran to say it’s not her place to interfere, but this is my life we’re talking about! I have to interfere.

  I will make my parents stay together if it’s the last thing I do. I just haven’t worked out how yet.

  I slump back on to the bed and consider number three. Find a way to get back to reality (?). Obviously if I’m going to achieve number two I can’t work on this one yet. Besides, I’m not sure I know what ‘reality’ is any more. I don’t think I believe in the coma theory. I mean, everything is too real. I’m not here in my mind – I’m definitely here in body. Maybe I’m in some sort of parallel universe. What if I can’t get back? Will I always be mentally seven years ahead of myself? When I reach fourteen in this world will I actually be twenty-one?

  Now I’ve worked out that Seth does like me, and all that stuff Sasha said was probably her just being horrid, I really want to get back and ring him. Oh my God! What if I have to wait seven years before I see him again? What if I manage to keep Mum and Dad together and then – in this world – Dad gets a new job and we have to move away? Then I’d never even meet Seth.

  What if everything happens exactly as it did before and then, when I finally reach fourteen (again), and I’m in the park after Sasha’s party and I fall off the roundabout again and end up back here again . . . Oh God! I can’t even think about that one!