Thanks for letting me know. Love you Maals. Stay strong xoxoxoxo ps do you want us to come to the hospital?
Maali replied almost instantly:
No it’s ok. Thanks.
Rose looked up and down Hampstead High Street. Unsure of what else to do, she started texting the other Moonlight Dreamers.
Still no news from the hospital. I say we go up there. Sky no worries if you can’t come, Amber and I will let you know what happens. xoxo
Sky’s heart dropped like a stone as the bus turned off Euston Road. They were almost at the hospital. Next to her, Amber was checking her phone, completely oblivious to the panic welling inside of Sky. She looked down from the top deck. Outside, commuters and tourists were scurrying along the pavements like worker ants, all completely oblivious too.
“Still no news from Maali,” Amber said.
Sky’s heart sank even further. What if it was bad news? What if her dad had cancer? Would she be able to stop her own pain from showing? She rested her head against the grimy window and took a slow, deep breath. There was no way she was going to chicken out this time. She was going to be there for Maali, even if it was bad news – especially if it was bad news.
“OK, the next stop’s ours,” Amber said, getting to her feet.
As Sky stood up her legs almost buckled. Come on, she told herself. You can do this. And somehow she made her way along the swaying bus, down the stairs and out onto the pavement.
“Here we are,” Amber said, leading Sky into a large London square.
Sky, who’d been gazing at the ground, plucked up the courage to look up. She felt a slight twinge of relief. The grand old red-brick building in front of them didn’t look very hospital-like. If it weren’t for the blue and white sign over the door saying THE NATIONAL HOSPITAL FOR NEUROLOGY & NEUROSURGERY Sky would have thought it was a Hogwarts-style school.
“Sky, you came!” Rose exclaimed, running across from the communal garden in the centre of the square.
“Of course.” Sky smiled at her weakly before Rose pulled her close for a hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered in Sky’s ear.
Sky nodded and looked back up at the hospital. She hadn’t been with her mum when she’d received her cancer diagnosis. She’d been too young. The day it had happened, her teacher had given her a message that after school she was to go to her friend Claire’s house for tea. At the time Sky had thought it a really fun surprise. She loved having tea at Claire’s house. Sky shuddered as she remembered Claire’s mum dropping her back home afterwards – the deathly expression on Liam’s face as he’d opened the door. That day had turned out to be a cliff-hanger of a chapter-ending in her life story. Sky thought of Maali, somewhere inside the hospital. Was a chapter in her life about to come to an abrupt end too?
* * *
“How much longer are they going to be?” Maali hissed to her mum as they helped themselves to drinks from the water cooler at the end of the ward.
“I don’t know,” her mum whispered back. “But it can’t be much longer. The day’s almost over.”
Maali stared angrily around the ward. She hated this place, with its hand-sanitizers and sick patients and strip-lighting. She wanted to be home. She wanted this nightmare to be over. She’d tried so hard to be patient and strong for her dad, spending all day playing stupid games and doing stupid word searches, but now she’d had enough. She felt like a piece of elastic, stretched to breaking point. Why was it taking the consultant so long? Had there been some kind of complication with the biopsy?
The ward door swished open and Maali spun around. But it was just a relative for one of the other patients, carrying a huge box of chocolates. Where was the consultant? Why hadn’t she come yet? Did this mean the news was going to be bad? The ward door opened again and Maali’s stomach lurched. The consultant was striding towards them holding a clipboard, her white hospital coat billowing out behind her like a cloak. Two more junior-looking doctors were running along behind her to keep up with her stride.
They hurried back to Maali’s dad’s bed, only just getting there before the doctors.
“Good evening,” the consultant said, looking over her half-moon glasses. She looked so stressed. Why did she look so stressed? She nodded to the curtain behind the bed and one of the other doctors pulled it round, so that they were partitioned off from the rest of the ward. Why were they doing that? Why didn’t she want anyone else to see? Was it because the news she had on her clipboard was bad? Was she worried they were all going to break down in tears? Maali slumped into a chair beside the bed.
“I’m sorry to have taken so long to come and see you,” the consultant said. “It’s been a very busy day.”
“That’s OK,” Maali’s dad replied, smiling at her. How was he able to stay so calm? How was he able to smile?
“So, as you know, your surgery was a great success. As far as the scans show we seem to have removed all of the tumour.”
Yes? And? Maali stared at her. Was the tumour cancerous? She shot a desperate glance at Kali. Please. Please. Please.
Amber stood in front of the bench that Rose and Sky were sitting on and stared up at the hospital. They’d been waiting in the garden for almost an hour now – Rose had texted Maali to say they were there – but they still hadn’t heard anything.
“I think it must be bad news,” she said grimly.
Sky got to her feet and started pacing up and down. “We need to be ready,” she said. “We need to know what to say to her.”
“What do you say to someone in that situation?” Rose looked at Sky. “What should we do?”
“I suppose the only thing we can do is let her know we’re here for her,” Sky said. “And we need to be positive. Even if it is cancer, it doesn’t mean that…” Maali was standing in the entrance to the hospital, silhouetted against the bright light inside. “Look.”
The others turned to follow her gaze.
“Oh God,” Rose whispered.
They all watched in silence as Maali made her way over to them.
“She’s been crying,” Rose whispered as Maali passed beneath the orange glow of a street light.
Sky’s palms went clammy and her mouth dry.
Maali came and stood in front of them.
“He’s OK,” she whispered, tears spilling from her eyes. “The tumour was benign.” Then her legs gave way.
Three pairs of arms reached out to catch her – and held on to her tightly in the silver moonlight.
Chapter Thirty-five
Maali placed a gingerbread-scented candle on her shrine, in between the statues of Kali and Lakshmi. It was Christmas Eve. Snow had started to fall softly outside, frosting the glass pane of her skylight. It was almost a year since she went downstairs to find her dad dizzy and confused in the living room and that whole nightmare was about to begin. So much had changed since then.
“Thank you,” Maali whispered to the goddesses.
Her dad still had to go for regular check-ups but, apart from the scar running across the base of his skull, you would never know he’d been seriously ill. It was weird how, at the time, her dad’s brain tumour had seemed like the worst thing in the world but, with hindsight, Maali could see there’d also been gifts in the experience. Having faced the prospect that she might be about to lose her dad meant that she no longer got stressed about the small stuff. And she appreciated her family more than ever. She knew her parents felt the same way too. They no longer put in such long shifts at the shop. They all spent more quality time together.
“Thank you for teaching me so much,” Maali whispered as she picked up Kali and gave her a quick polish. She’d also learned that even in the darkest hour, there was always the hope of brighter days to come. Kali had helped her to see that although change could be painful and destructive, it was always possible to find love at the heart of it, in the eye of the storm. She put Kali down and picked up Lakshmi.
“Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I gave
up on you. Thank you for helping me to still believe in love.” She dusted the figurine, then placed her back on the shrine.
Rose saw a group of tourists approaching and walked out in front of the stall, holding a plate full of bite-sized pieces of cake.
“Get your fresh cupcakes here!” she cried. “Debuting today, the Minty Mistletoe.”
“I taught her everything she knows, you know,” Mel said with a proud grin.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” Rose said in a mock British accent. “Would you like a sample?” she said, offering the plate to the tourists. As one girl took a piece of cake, Rose had a sudden flashback to the day of the disastrous model casting, when she’d walked out on Matt and the others in the pub and bumped into Francesca outside her shop. It was a moment, Rose realized, that had gone on to change her life for ever. How awesome that on any given day, you could find yourself in a life-changing moment like that. She glanced across at Jet, who was inspecting the trays of jewellery on her own stall. The slogan on her t-shirt read F*** CHRISTMAS! over the picture of a skull clad in a black and white Santa hat.
“Whoa!” the tourist girl cried, putting her hand to her mouth. Rose watched her anxiously. Was it a good “whoa” or a bad one? The girl said something to her friends in what Rose thought was Italian. The next thing she knew they were all taking a piece of cake. Rose felt a wave of elation. She’d spent ages perfecting the recipe to get the balance of dark chocolate and peppermint just right.
Each of the tourists ended up buying a Minty Mistletoe, which meant they’d sold out before lunchtime. Success indeed. Rose couldn’t wait to tell Francesca later, when she came to relieve her.
“Guess what?” Rose said, making her way over to Jet.
“What?” Jet looked at her and smiled. She smiled a lot these days – well, at least once a day – and when she did her whole face was transformed.
“I just sold out of Minty Mistletoes.”
“I’m not surprised. They’re delicious.” Jet planted a kiss on Rose’s lips. “I’m proud of you, babe.”
Rose grinned and made her way back over to her stall. Yes, Jet was a pussy cat really, once you got to know her.
Amber typed the words THE END and gazed, startled, at the screen. She’d done it. She’d actually finished her first stage play. Well, the first draft of her first stage play, anyway. There’d been many days, many weeks, when she thought she’d never see this moment. When her characters didn’t seem to want to do what she told them and her plot took her down dead ends or tied itself in knots. But somehow she’d found the strength to keep going. Or rather, Oscar had given her the strength to keep going. She looked up at the quote she’d printed out and framed above her desk.
“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
In Amber’s darkest moments of playwright’s block she’d looked at that quote and willed herself on – to keep writing from the heart, to keep writing her truth – for Oscar. And now here it was – a whole ninety-three pages of script. She opened her desk drawer to get a memory stick to save a back-up version and caught sight of Gerald’s sketch of her surrogate mum, buried beneath a pile of books. She took it out and stared at it. This time last year it had felt so loaded with meaning and now it was just a set of random lines on a page. To think that she’d invested so much hope in that sad gaze. To think that she’d been so wrong. Amber now knew that you’d never find your true identity inside another – even if you shared their DNA. Your true self was something you were born with – an original, unique you buried deep inside, like the smallest in a set of Russian dolls. And, even if you lost sight of it for a while, it was always there … just like the moon. She took the sketch downstairs to the kitchen, where Gerald was standing red-faced at the stove, making his Christmas Eve paella.
“I think you should have this,” she said, handing him the sketch. “I don’t need it any more.”
Sky stared at her laptop, then stared at Leon, who was lying sprawled across her bunk, jotting in his notepad.
“Oh my God, ‘Free to Be’s got a mention in the Guardian Online!”
Leon put his pad down and sat upright. “How come?”
“It’s in a feature on the education system. It’s only a mention – but it’s a mention!”
“That’s amazing!” Leon grinned at her. “Read it.”
“‘After a wave of recent protests by secondary school students, such as the Harlington High sit-in and the online Free to Be campaign, changes might be afoot in the education system.’” Sky sat down on the bunk next to Leon and continued to read. “‘In a statement released by her office this week, the Education Secretary has outlined plans for an enquiry into the wave of unrest, to take place in the New Year.’” Sky stared at Leon. “Oh my God!”
Leon put his arm round her. “You did that, Sky-Blue.”
“No, a lot of people did it.”
“But you started it – putting the poem on YouTube and creating the hashtag and all the online campaigning.”
Sky nodded but it felt impossible to comprehend. To think that this time a year ago she’d been so terrified of starting school. And now, the government was taking notice of a campaign she’d started to make positive changes to the school system. “You started it, really,” she said.
“How come?”
“With your poem ‘Be the Change’. That night you read it in the Poetry Café – the night we met – you made me see that I didn’t have to accept things I didn’t like. You made me see that I could try to do something about it. I’m so glad you were there that night.”
Leon smiled. “You and me both!” He kissed her, then checked the time on his phone. “I better get going and let you get ready for your Dreamers.”
Sky leaned into him, soaking up the warmth for a few seconds more. One of the things she loved most about Leon – and there were a lot of things she loved most about Leon – was the way he was so understanding of her friendship with the Moonlight Dreamers and how he never tried to come between them. All of the girls loved him for it – even Rose, who had become even more understanding since she’d got together with Jet.
“Happy Christmas, Sky-Blue,” Leon said, hugging her tight.
“Happy Christmas, Leon.”
“OK, girls, I’m off to Savannah’s,” Liam said, coming out onto the deck of the houseboat. It was a couple of hours later. Leon had gone home and the other Moonlight Dreamers had arrived.
“Good luck,” Rose retorted. “When I left, she and Margot were making vagina vision boards.”
“What?” Sky spluttered.
“It’s to help them visualize how they’re going to utilize the power of their sacred flower in the New Year, apparently,” Rose explained.
“OK, I really don’t want to know what that means,” Amber said.
“I do,” said Maali with a grin.
“It’s basically just a flowery way – get it – of stating their dreams for the year,” Rose explained. “Mom’s got training to become a landscape gardener and doing a course in interior design on her list. Now that she’s quit modelling the world’s her oyster.”
“It certainly is,” Liam said. He’d barely stopped grinning since he and Savannah had got back together. But Sky was happy for him. He and Savannah had taken things much more slowly this time – going on dates like normal people and not moving in together. “I’ll see you girls later, then,” he said to Sky and Rose. “Don’t forget to lock up when you’re done here.”
The girls watched him disappear into the darkness on the tow-path.
“Shall we go up on the roof?” Sky asked. “There’s more room up there – and we’ll be closer to the moon.”
They instinctively looked up at the sky but it was too cloudy for any sight of the moon.
“Good plan,” Rose said, grabbing a flask from the deck.
Once they were sitting in a circle on the roof Rose opened her flask and offered it ar
ound. “Home-made hot chocolate with a twist,” she said.
“What’s the twist?” Amber asked.
“Try it and see.”
The other girls tried the drink and murmured their appreciation.
“Is there orange in it?” Maali asked.
“Yep. And a dash of cinnamon.”
“It’s lovely,” Sky said and Rose grinned with pride.
“So, another year almost over,” Amber said.
“Can you believe how much has happened since our meeting last New Year’s Eve?” asked Maali.
“No!” Sky said. “Seriously, if someone had told me back then what was going to happen to me this year, I’d never have believed them.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Can you all remember what your dreams were?” Maali asked.
Amber laughed. “Yes. Well, mine certainly didn’t come true.”
“Yes, it did,” Rose said. “Just not in the way you thought it would.”
“You’re right.” Amber nodded.
“Same here,” Maali said. “I thought meeting my soulmate meant meeting a boy, but now I know that soulmates aren’t always a romantic thing.” She looked around at them and smiled. “You guys are my soulmates and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“Amen, soul sister!” Rose raised her hand for a high-five.
“My dream didn’t work out at all how I’d imagined either,” Sky said. “When I dreamed of making poetry a bigger part of my life I had no idea that a poem I’d write would end up going viral!”
“Or that you’d fall in love with a poet,” Maali said – slightly wistfully, Sky couldn’t help noticing.
“Yes, that was definitely a bonus!” Sky grinned.
“And when I dreamed of properly kissing a girl I had no idea it would be with my arch nemesis,” Rose said with a grin. “Or that I’d end up finding ragey chicks so attractive!”
“Do you think dreams ever turn out the way we plan?” Maali asked.
Tell It to the Moon Page 22
