After Iris: the Diaries of Bluebell Gadsby

by Natasha Farrant

  Flora cried all day. She tried to call Mum, but her phone was switched off, which made her cry even more, and it didn’t help when Grandma reminded her that it was only six o’clock in the morning in New York.

  ‘I’m going to call Dad,’ said Flora, still crying. ‘At least one of my parents has to answer.’

  But Dad’s phone just rang and rang, and Flora cried even harder.

  It’s snowing in Scotland. Every time we switch on the radio, we hear about how people in the Highlands are only surviving by keeping shovels with them at all times to dig themselves out of snowdrifts.

  ‘I wish it would snow here,’ said Jas.

  Grandma made soup with cheese on toast and mince pies for pudding. We watched It’s a Wonderful Life like we do every Christmas. Flora came down with her duvet and a very red nose. We all pretended everything was fine, but just now Twig came into my room and sat cross-legged on the floor, watching me while I write.

  ‘This is going to be a rubbish Christmas,’ he said.

  ‘Yup,’ I said.

  ‘Do you miss her?’ he asked.

  ‘Who?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t pretend,’ he said.

  ‘Well what do you think?’

  ‘I think you do only you never say. Nobody ever says. It’s not right.’

  My little brother, growing up.

  ‘Of course I miss her,’ I said. ‘Every day. I miss the parents too.’

  ‘I wish they’d come home,’ he said.

  He stayed for ages while I wrote, sitting with his head against my bed, staring at the door. He only got up to leave when I told him I wanted to go to sleep.

  ‘I’ll get them back,’ he said before he left my room. ‘Somehow. I will.’

  And then he was gone.

  Friday 23 December

  It snowed in the night. I knew as soon as I woke up. The light in my room was different, pale and filtered, and there was no sound from outside at all. I jumped out of bed and drew the curtains and sure enough, the world had disappeared under a thick carpet of white. It was freezing. I pulled on a jumper and some socks and ran next door to tell Twig and Jas.

  They weren’t in their room so I went down to the kitchen. Flora was sitting slumped at the breakfast counter looking miserable, and Grandma, was making toast looking long-suffering.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked.

  Flora slumped even lower.

  ‘Something about Facebook,’ said Grandma.

  ‘What’s happened now?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you care?’ Flora cried, and she ran out of the room.

  Grandma looked baffled. Suddenly I really, really missed Zoran. If he was here, I thought, I would tell him about my solo skateboarding session with Jake, about how it felt like flying. I thought how Zoran, who has never liked Joss, probably would like Jake.

  And then it started. I asked, ‘Where are the Babes?’ and Grandma said, ‘In bed, go and get them up, they shouldn’t miss this,’ and I said, ‘They’re not in bed, I just checked’ and Grandma said, ‘Well they’re not down here.’ And then I thought they might be in the garden, but the door was locked, and Grandma thought they might be upstairs watching TV, but they weren’t, and then Flora stopped crying and joined in and we looked everywhere including the loft and the cellar but there was no sign of them. And then Grandma noticed that their coats and boots had gone, as well as all the ginger cookies from the tree and all the housekeeping money. And I remembered Twig last night saying ‘I’ll get them back.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ cried Flora when I told her. ‘The little monsters have run away!’

  Grandma went white and said no, they had probably gone to the park to build a snowman.

  ‘There are no footprints outside!’ shouted Flora. ‘They must have gone out ages ago!’

  ‘GO AND LOOK FOR THEM!’ yelled Grandma. ‘RUN! WHILE I CALL THE POLICE!’

  So Flora and I pulled on snow boots and anoraks over our pyjamas and we ran out into the street, and as we ran we phoned everyone we know, Jake and Dodi and all of Flora’s friends, to ask them if they could help us look, but I knew and Flora knew that it was pointless. And we were right. By the time we finished searching there were loads of us scouring the park, and the Babes weren’t there.

  Jake and Dodi came home with us, and when we got back we found Grandma on the doorstep talking to a policeman named Constable Roberts. He was very short, had a moustache and looked very unhappy.

  ‘YOU MUST DO SOMETHING!’ boomed Grandma. ‘YOU MUST INSTIGATE A NATIONAL SEARCH!’

  ‘But do you have any idea where they might be?’

  ‘WOULD WE BE STANDING HERE IF WE DID?’

  We sat in the kitchen, where Dodi made tea for everybody. Grandma poured brandy into hers from the hipflask she always carries in her bag. She offered some to Constable Roberts but he said no thank you very much, he was working, and then he asked when the Babes went missing, and were there any relatives they might have gone to?

  ‘YES, ME,’ Grandma hollered. ‘BUT I AM HERE.’

  ‘We think they may have gone to find Dad,’ I said.

  ‘Where does he live?’ asked Constable Roberts.

  ‘He lives here, but most of the time he is in Warwick,’ I said.

  ‘Where is your mother?’ asked Constable Roberts.

  ‘She also lives here but most of the time she is abroad,’ said Flora.

  ‘So who looks after you?’ asked Constable Roberts.

  ‘Zoran,’ said Flora. ‘He’s actually gone to Paris.’

  Constable Roberts asked us for photographs of the Babes and he said they would put out a missing person alert for both of them. He said they would pay particular attention to coach and train routes to Warwick, and that the transport police would be on red alert but that we had to understand that two feet of snow fell last night in some parts of the country and that it was absolute chaos out there. He also said he would have to alert Social Services. He said this was standard procedure, but he looked very disapproving when he said it. He said we should keep trying to get in touch with our parents and to let him know as soon as we had made contact.

  ‘WHAT, AND THAT’S IT?’ asked Grandma.

  ‘We will do all we possibly can,’ said Constable Roberts, and then he left. Dodi hugged me and then she and Jake left too.

  That was at half-past ten this morning. Since then we have learned that most but not all of the trains to Warwick were cancelled this morning, that some left London but never arrived, and that some were diverted on to other lines, so if Twig and Jas did try to catch one of them, they could be anywhere. Their photograph has been emailed to stations up and down both lines, but nobody has reported seeing two unaccompanied minors along either route.

  It is late now, and dark outside. We have spent the whole day waiting. We kept trying to call Dad, but only got his answerphone. The snow which seemed so magical this morning has become unbearable and the silence is deafening. There are no cars because of the snow, and no planes either. Mum has called several times, each time sounding more hysterical than the last. She is stuck at the airport in New York, crying and wailing in the departure lounge because her plane can’t land at Heathrow. We have had to face the possibility that she might not be here in time for Christmas at all. We are all doing a grand job of pretending the Babes will be, but secretly I know we are all terrified that they won’t. We don’t say anything but we are all thinking about three years ago, when Iris went out alone in the dark.

  Dad finally called and spoke to Grandma. We heard her from all the way upstairs. ‘WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN ALL DAY? YOU ARE UTTERLY SELFISH! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT AT HOME!’

  ‘It’s not Dad’s fault,’ said Flora. We stood together at the window in the Babes’ room. It stopped snowing late this afternoon and now the sky is completely clear.

  ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘It’s nobody’s fault, is it?’ said Flora. ‘Iris died and it was an accident and none of us have ever go
t over it. So in the end, we just lost the plot.’

  ‘This isn’t the end,’ I said. I breathed on the window pane and it steamed up. Without thinking, I drew a heart with an arrow through it.

  ‘Joss was at a party with Kiera last night,’ said Flora. ‘CJ posted photos on Facebook.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. You were friends, and then I stole him. I didn’t mean to – it just felt like such a long time since I’d been happy, you know?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said.

  ‘You must hate me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you,’ I said. I looked at her, my crazy big sister, sitting in her striped pyjamas and old cardigan with her weirdo hair piled up on her head, and I almost smiled. ‘I really, really don’t,’ I repeated, and she almost smiled back.

  Grandma went to bed at eight o’clock, though she said she couldn’t possibly sleep. I tiptoed in a few minutes ago and she was sitting upright in bed with her book on her lap and her hipflask on her bedside table, snoring. Flora is in her room talking to Tamsin on the landline. She has switched off her cell because she doesn’t want to speak to Joss. I have been talking to Iris, wherever she is, asking her to look after Jas and Twig, who wherever they are right now will surely need all the help they can get.

  There are only three of us in the house, when there should be at least nine.

  My video camera lies on the bed where I left it this morning, ready to film the snow. My fingers are itching for it. It feels wrong, somehow, to film at a moment like this, and yet now the thought has entered my head I can’t get it out.

  It’s too quiet. I am going out, and I am taking my camera with me.

  The Film Diaries Of Bluebell Gadsby

  Scene Nineteen (Transcript)

  The Grand Finale

  PART 1: NIGHT. THE GADSBY GARDEN.

  The garden gleams, snow reflecting the light of the crescent moon. Laden branches hang low. This does not look like London. This is another world, a place of magic, or it would be but for the sound of the city coming back to life and a helicopter circling overhead.

  Snow falls to the ground as CAMERAMAN (BLUE) brushes against boughs on her way from the house to the rat runs at the bottom of the garden. Cameraman crouches to film them. The Babes must have come here before they left, because the cages are full of fresh, dry straw and there are some barely touched apples in the feeding bowls. Cameraman taps the top of the females’ cage. The straw packed into the sleeping den rustles. A pink nose appears, twitches, and dives again for cover.

  CAMERAMAN

  (whispers)

  Petal, Betsy do you know where they are? Because if you do, you have to tell me. If you do, you have to say.

  JOSS

  (off camera)

  You know talking to rats is the first sign of madness?

  JOSS comes into focus as Cameraman straightens. He wears a padded donkey jacket, his trademark beanie pulled right down over his ears. The tip of his nose is pink like the rats’, his eyes sparkle. He grins and waves, then hiccups.

  JOSS

  (hiccupping again)

  I have braved snowploughs and frozen trains to wish Flora a Merry Christmas.

  CAMERAMAN

  (bravely)

  I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  JOSS

  (staggers a few steps towards the camera then stops, swaying)

  But I love her.

  CAMERAMAN

  She’s upset! Not just with you – oh Joss, the Babes are missing! We think they’ve run away!

  Joss stops walking. He bites his lower lip, deep in thought. A few seconds pass.

  CAMERAMAN (CONT’D)

  (almost sobbing)

  We don’t know where they are.

  JOSS

  (trying hard to focus)

  I have to speak to Flora.

  He holds up a hand to stop Blue’s protests.

  JOSS (CONT’D)

  We have to pull our ressources. Pool together. Put our differences behind us.

  JOSS

  (clapping hands)

  Come along, young Bluebell! Best foot forward!

  Joss strides forward, slips on the ice, stands up again and disappears into the house. Cameraman follows (feeling uncertain).

  The Film Diaries Of Bluebell Gadsby

  Scene Nineteen (Transcript)

  The Grand Finale

  PART 2: INTERIOR, NIGHT. THE LANDING OUTSIDE THE CHILDREN’S ROOMS.

  JOSS throws open FLORA’S door. Flora screams and drops the phone.

  JOSS

  (grandly)

  I have come to help you find the missing Babes!

  FLORA

  (looking daggers, pulling duvet up to her shoulders)

  I said I never want to see you again!

  JOSS

  (falls on to bed, where he sits staring mournfully at Flora)

  You’re cross. I understand. I can explain. I love you.

  Flora struggles out from beneath the covers and stands precariously on the bed. Joss tries to take her hand. She pushes him away, leaps off the bed, trips and hits her head against the edge of a shelf.

  FLORA

  (blood pouring down her face from cut on her forehead)

  Go away! Leave me alone! I hate you!

  JOSS

  (seizing Flora by the shoulders and shaking her quite hard)

  For God’s sake woman, listen to me!

  Flora yells and knees him in the groin. Joss doubles over in pain.

  CAMERAMAN

  (her screams faint against the sound of the helicopter outside)

  Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

  GRANDMA appears in a scarlet dressing-gown and mad hair, shouting IT’S A MIRACLE! IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!! She points to the window. She cries, THERE IS A HELICOPTER IN THE SQUARE!!! Camera pans right and through the dark and glass and trees does indeed pick out a small helicopter, which has now landed on the lawn of Chatsworth Square. Four figures stand beside it. Two men and two children. FATHER, TWIG, JAS and A MYSTERIOUS OTHER.

  GRANDMA

  (finally noticing the three people in the room)

  WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?

  CAMERAMAN

  Daddy! Daddy, oh, Daddy!

  Picture blurs as Cameraman runs downstairs. Cameraman’s voice off-screen cries ‘Daddy, come quickly!’ Father hoves briefly into view, looking faintly green after the ride in the helicopter.

  FATHER

  What is it? What has happened?

  CAMERAMAN

  (beginning to cry)

  Joss and Flora! Upstairs! She’s bleeding! He’s hurt!

  For a moment, everything freezes. All eyes are on Father, who has just conquered his greatest fear, brought home two lost children in the middle of the night, and was not expecting this as a welcome home.

  CAMERAMAN

  DADDY!!

  The scene unfreezes. Father roars, and thunders up the stairs with camera in hot, jolting pursuit, to Flora’s room where Joss kneels on the floor, crying. Flora sits on the edge of her bed, her face covered in blood. His arms are wrapped around her waist, his head buried in her lap. She is also crying, and tries to push him away. Grandma is whacking him on the head with a paperback, but he ignores her.

  JOSS

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

  FATHER

  Let go of my daughter, you creep!

  Father’s fist connects with Joss’s nose. Blood spurts everywhere. Father laughs, sounding mad. Commotion as Jas, Twig and the Mysterious Other enter the room, followed by CONSTABLE ROBERTS who, together with the Mysterious Other leap on Father to stop him from punching Joss again.

  Saturday 24 December: Very Early Morning

  Saturday 24 December: Very Early Morning

  Just for a moment, in the garden with Joss, I thought he was going to surprise me. When I told him about the Babes, for a few seconds I thought he was going to come up with some crazy way of finding them. Daft, I know, when
you think of what happened afterwards, but I haven’t forgotten the incident with the rats. Joss just has that effect on people. Well, he had that effect on me.

  After everyone had embraced everyone else, we crowded back into the kitchen where Grandma made tea and cut enormous slabs of Christmas cake for everybody, even Joss who had to keep his head tilted back because of his nosebleed, and Constable Roberts who kept trying to tell Dad that he was under arrest, and in between hugs and mouthfuls of cake the Babes told us what had happened.

  They did make it to Warwick – well, obviously, because they found Dad. Twig did some secret research online after he left my bedroom on Thursday night and they left the house at half-past four, planning to catch the five-thirty train from Paddington.

  ‘It was freezing,’ said Twig. ‘But it wasn’t snowing yet. We got to Paddington no problem.’

  ‘We got the tickets out of the machine on the platform,’ said Jas. ‘And then we found a lady and sort of stuck near her so people thought we were with her. It all went fine until we got to Reading.’

  ‘But we didn’t realise we had to change trains,’ said Twig.

  ‘And then it started to snow . . .’

  ‘And the train just stopped. For hours . . .’

  ‘And we only had Christmas cookies and some ham sandwiches and an apple and two bananas and a Mars bar to eat . . . And then the train started again but it was the wrong one anyway . . .’

  ‘So then we had to go back to Reading, which took forever . . .’

  ‘And then we had to change trains again and this time we got it right, but it was going so slowly it was like hardly moving at all . . .’