by Gwyneth Rees
Dad glanced over at me. ‘I’ll be with you the whole time, Daniel. Nothing bad’s going to happen. And she got moved to a side room yesterday, off the main ward, so we’ll be able to see her without seeing any of the other patients.’
‘I don’t want to go in there again, OK?’
Dad parked the car and undid his seat belt. ‘Come on, Daniel. You’ll regret it if you don’t come in. Mum’s expecting you.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘I just don’t feel like seeing her right now.’
Dad looked taken aback. ‘OK,’ he finally said brusquely. ‘If that’s how you feel. Keep the car doors locked and wait here until we get back.’ I knew he was disappointed in me for saying that I didn’t care and I felt a pang of guilt because I did care. I cared a lot.
I watched them walk into the building, Martha holding Dad’s hand as she skipped along beside him. I looked up at the hospital windows in case Mum was looking out of any of them. She wasn’t. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her the way she looks when she’s well, her long dark wavy hair tied back and her blue eyes alert and a bit intense-looking. Her voice was easy to hear inside my head. She always spoke very clearly and with a lot of feeling if she was talking about anything she cared about. I wanted to see Mum again really badly. But I knew now that I only wanted to see her when she was that person again. And if that never happened … I shuddered. I couldn’t even bear to think about it.
CHAPTER 14
A few days later I was watching my favourite TV show when our doorbell rang. The mad bomber storyline was dragging on a bit. He seemed just as crazy as ever, so it didn’t look like the especially strong medication had helped him much. Meanwhile, the cool young detective was getting chewed out by his boss for rushing in to save the day without waiting for back-up again. I wasn’t meant to be watching TV. I was meant to be doing my homework. I still hadn’t made a decision about school and Dad was making me do schoolwork every day at home now. He said I had until the end of the week to decide if I wanted to change schools or stay at my current one. But then he’d said that last week too. I’d never seen Dad so uncertain about anything as he did about my school situation.
When the doorbell rang a second time I decided I’d better go and see who it was. I opened the front door to see Mrs Lyle standing there holding Mum’s laptop and a big pink envelope. Mrs Lyle was the last person I’d expected to see. I’d always thought she didn’t like either Mum or me.
‘Hello, Daniel,’ she said. ‘I’ve got your mum’s laptop here. Apparently she gave it away to a sixth former. He brought it back into school when he heard she was ill.’
‘Mum isn’t here,’ I said woodenly. ‘She’s still in hospital.’
‘I know. We thought you could take it to her.’
‘She’s not allowed a computer at the moment.’
‘Well, perhaps you could take her the card. It’s from all the staff. We want her to know that we’re all thinking about her. We didn’t realise at the time, you see, that she was … well …’ She flushed. ‘None of the teachers knew about her … her medical condition. If we’d known we’d have done more to help.’
I just stood there staring at Mrs Lyle. Frankly I couldn’t imagine her wanting to help my mother. Not unless it involved helping her into a strait jacket or injecting her with a syringe full of tranquillizer or something.
‘Daniel, who is it?’ Dad called out as he came downstairs.
‘One of my teachers.’
‘Well, invite her in for goodness sake.’ In the hall he held out his hand to shake Mrs Lyle’s. She said her first name when she introduced herself to him.
Dad showed her through to the living room and asked me to put the kettle on. I didn’t. Instead I went outside to find Martha, who was bouncing a tennis-ball against the side of the house. I felt like doing the opposite of what Dad told me to do most of the time now. We’d had lots of disagreements about stupid things like me leaving the milk out of the fridge when Dad kept telling me to put it away and me not going to bed on time and stuff like that.
‘What was Mum like when you saw her on Saturday?’ I asked Martha, grabbing the ball off her and starting to bounce it myself. I always feel better when I’m doing something with my hands.
This was the first time I’d asked her anything about the hospital visit and she eyed me warily, almost as if she knew she might get her head bitten off if she said the wrong thing. ‘She was sleepy. I sang her a song and she said it was lovely.’
‘Did she say anything weird?’
Before Martha could answer, the back door opened and Dad yelled out my name. I thought about staying out of sight and pretending I had gone round to Abby’s or somewhere, but I wasn’t sure what he’d do if he thought I’d left the house again without asking. I’d heard him on the phone to Uncle Robert the other night saying how I’d really been testing the boundaries since he’d got back and how he was trying to stay cool but wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to stop himself from clobbering me. They had talked about Grandma too and Dad’s voice had sounded choked, almost as if he were crying. Except that Dad never cries.
‘I’m here!’ I yelled, going round to the back door, where Dad was waiting.
He didn’t say anything about the kettle. ‘Mrs Lyle’s got something to tell you. Come inside for a minute.’
I couldn’t think what Mrs Lyle could possibly have to tell me that I’d want to hear, but I followed him inside anyway. Mrs Lyle was sitting on the sofa. She looked up as I came in. ‘Daniel, I wanted to tell you that we all really hope that you decide to come back to school soon. Everyone understands what you’ve been through and we all just want to help. Don’t you think it’s time to put a brave face on it and come back?’
I screwed up my nose. I’d need more than a brave face to survive going back to school again. I’d need a suit of armour to hide inside and even that wouldn’t be enough. Besides, I didn’t trust her. ‘I don’t need any help,’ I said. ‘So you can stop interfering!’ And I ran out of the room.
‘Daniel!’ Dad called out after me crossly, but I didn’t turn back.
Up in my room I flung myself down on my tummy on my bed and wished I could turn back the clock to before we’d ever moved here. I wished I had never met Mrs Lyle or ever set foot in her stupid school. I was never going back there and I didn’t want Mum going back there either.
I heard Mrs Lyle leaving. Then I braced myself for what I knew was coming next.
As Dad came storming up the stairs and into my room, I half wondered if this was the moment he was going to do the clobbering. Except that Dad’s never hit either Martha or me, not even the slightest smack.
Instead I got a pretty major scolding. Dad said he didn’t want me being rude to people who were doing their best to help both me and Mum. Now that Mrs Lyle knew that Mum had a mental illness she was being very understanding about the various changes Mum had tried to make up at the school. And she had told him she would support Mum as much as she could when she came back. Dad said that some people wouldn’t be more understanding when they found out Mum was mentally ill, they’d be less so. So we should be grateful that Mrs Lyle – and at least some of the other members of staff – were reacting so positively now that they had been told.
‘What about the ones who aren’t reacting positively?’ I asked sullenly.
‘Mum can handle those people as long as she’s got some support,’ Dad said. He added that, although it would be hard, he thought Mum would want the opportunity to get back into school and face everyone again just as soon as she was able.
‘She might not. She might be too embarrassed to ever go back,’ I said with a scowl.
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘Perhaps Mum’s not the only one who needs to get over this so she can move on.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I snapped.
‘Are you worried about Mum being embarrassed, or are you embarrassed?’
‘Of course I’m n
ot,’ I said crossly.
His voice was scarily gently as he said, ‘Are you sure?’
CHAPTER 15
The following morning, Dad started going on at me again to make a decision about school. I was just on my way upstairs to escape from him when the post arrived through the letterbox. I bent down to pick it up. There was a letter for me. I didn’t recognise the writing on the envelope at first. It was Dad who said, ‘That looks like Mum’s writing.’
‘Let me see!’ Martha said, but I shook her off.
‘No, it’s mine!’ And I ran upstairs with it and shut myself in my room.
I tore off the envelope and opened the card inside. My eyes went straight to the signature scrawled at the bottom, With love from Mum.
It was a card with an illustration from Alice in Wonderland on the front: a picture of the Mad Hatter’s tea party. Mum had written inside in her slanty handwriting, Dear Daniel, I found this in the hospital shop and I hope it makes you laugh. I can’t wait to see you again so please come to see this Mad Hatter soon. With love from Mum. There was a whole row of kisses.
I could almost see Mum in the hospital shop, laughing when she found that card. And the mother I was imagining doing that was Mum when she was well.
‘Dad!’ I shouted, taking it back downstairs to show him. ‘Look at this!’
Dad looked at the card and smiled too.
Martha had a look as well, but she didn’t understand what it meant. She didn’t understand that it was a special message from Mum – the mum we knew – to tell me that she was back again.
‘I want to go and see her, Dad,’ I said eagerly.
Dad nodded, looking relieved. ‘I’ll take you up there today.’
In the car, on the way to the hospital, Dad took advantage of the fact that I was a captive audience. ‘You have to make up your mind about school by the end of today,’ he said firmly. ‘Otherwise I’ll decide for you, OK?’
I nodded. ‘OK.’ But secretly I didn’t see how I could. I just wanted to stay at home from now on and not have to face going back to school – any school – ever again.
Then he said something that surprised me. ‘I told Grandma what a good report we got from your last school. She said to tell you to keep it up. I told her about that story you wrote last year that your teacher got you to read out in assembly. It really made her proud. Grandma used to write stories when she was young. Did you know that, Daniel?’
I shook my head. No one had mentioned that before. And then I had a sudden memory of Grandma telling me a story. It was the one time she’d come to England to stay with us. I had been about six at the time. I remember introducing her to Martha, saying, ‘This is our baby. She cries a lot.’ And a few days later Grandma had told me a story called ‘The baby who wouldn’t stop crying’. The baby in the story had a big brother who was very smart.
I suddenly wished Grandma wasn’t dead, so I could send her one of my stories. Or that I’d sent her one when she was alive.
‘I wish Grandma hadn’t lived in New Zealand,’ I said. ‘I felt like I didn’t have a grandmother at all because she was so far away, but I guess I did really.’
‘Yes,’ Dad said. ‘You did.’ From his hoarse voice and the way his eyes were suddenly welling up, I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing again. ‘I should have taken you and Martha out there to see her more often. I’m sorry,’ he added.
I didn’t know what to say to stop him looking so sad, apart from telling him that us not seeing Grandma very much wasn’t his fault. After all, she was the one who had decided to emigrate to live near my aunt rather than us. But then, he was an adult, so he shouldn’t need me to tell him things like that, should he?
‘Daniel!’ Mum was excited when she saw me, beaming as she held out her arms to give me a hug. Her eyes were all teary. I felt a bit like crying too.
Martha was at school so it was just me, Dad and Mum. Then Dad said he would leave us together for a bit while he went and did some shopping.
It was strange seeing Mum again now that some bits of her had gone back to how they’d been when she was well, but some bits hadn’t. For instance, she was wearing her usual clothes again, not the really bright ones she’d worn before, and her hair was tied back just how she likes to wear it for work. And she was wearing make-up, but not too much. (She’d switched to wearing this really bright red lipstick before.) She was talking in the same way that she used to for most of the time and everything she said made sense. But she was still a bit irritable, snapping at the nurse who came to give her her tablets, and yelling at a patient who barged into her room without knocking. She had been in hospital for nearly a month now.
‘You must have been scared of me, Daniel,’ she said, almost as soon as Dad left. ‘All that rubbish I talked about Martha. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t help it. But I’m really glad you’re better now.’ I gave her a shy smile. ‘Thanks for sending me that card.’
She smiled back. ‘I knew you’d like it. Hey, I know! Want to go to the hospital shop now?’
Mum wasn’t completely back to her usual self. I could see that. She still giggled a bit too easily and she couldn’t be bothered adding up our change in the shop, which is something she always does to check that it’s right. And she let me buy a huge bag of sticky sweets even though she normally doesn’t like me eating sweets because she reckons the sugar makes me hyperactive and rots my teeth.
Dad was coming back after he’d been to the supermarket and as Mum and I sat in her room waiting for him, we fell silent. We were both perched on the edge of the bed facing the window. I was fiddling with the stuff on Mum’s locker, but she didn’t say anything, not even when I knocked her hairbrush on to the floor.
‘Daniel, I’m sorry I stopped taking my lithium,’ Mum said suddenly. ‘It was stupid of me. I put all of us at risk. I don’t know why I did it. I just started feeling that I was so well I didn’t need it any more. Dr White thinks that was the start of me going a bit high, that I was actually a little bit ill before I stopped it. It was probably the stress of moving and the new job and your dad going away and –’
‘It’s OK Mum –’ I began, but she interrupted me.
‘It’s not OK! It’s not OK at all!’ She looked me straight in the eyes and added fiercely, ‘Is it?’
I looked at her. OK then … If she really wanted the truth …
‘No!’ I answered. ‘It’s not OK. It’s been horrible!’ I got off the bed and went to glare out at the cloudless blue sky.
Mum came over to the window too. She didn’t speak, but she took hold of my hand and I didn’t take it away.
After we’d stood like that for quite a long time, Mum asked tentatively, ‘How’s school? Has it been really awful for you?’
‘I haven’t been back to school,’ I said. ‘I might be going to the other secondary school here instead.’
‘WHAT?’ She made me jump, the way she shouted it.
‘Dad says it’s up to me to decide,’ I said, backing away from her towards the door. ‘Dad says I can change schools if I want. Hasn’t he told you?’
‘No, he hasn’t told me! And there’s no way you’re changing schools! They have an appalling GCSE record at that other place and half the staff there are supply teachers!’ As she said it, Dad came in the door behind me.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, seeing Mum’s face.
‘Daniel’s not changing schools!’ Mum shouted at him.
‘Izzy, he hasn’t decided anything for definite yet.’
‘Malcolm, where he goes to school isn’t his decision!’ Mum snapped. ‘It’s ours!’
‘Yes, but Daniel feels he’s old enough now to help make that decision,’ Dad said slowly. ‘Especially after what’s happened.’
‘RUBBISH!’ Mum snarled, and I knew that she definitely wasn’t back to her old self yet. If she was, she wouldn’t be looking so agitated and she wouldn’t be spitting as she spoke. Normally she had more control than
that, no matter how angry she got.
‘Izzy, let’s discuss this later,’ Dad said, quickly. ‘It’s time I took Daniel home. I’ll ring you tonight.’
I stayed silent as we walked out of the building. As we headed across the car park, I said to Dad, ‘Mum still isn’t completely well yet, is she?’
‘Not completely, no.’ He paused. ‘But maybe she’s right just the same. I mean, this decision about school is a parental one really. Mum and I already checked out the schools here before we moved. The school you’re at – Mum’s school – is by far the best secondary school in the area.’
‘Yes, but it’s still up to me to decide, isn’t it?’ I said stubbornly.
‘Well, I’m beginning to think differently about that too, Daniel. I’m beginning to think it’s not fair on you, asking you to make the choice. Maybe I gave in too easily when you first skipped school that day. Maybe I should just have taken you back there myself and given you no option but to get on with it. Maybe some decisions do still need to be made by your parents when you’re only twelve.’ He looked at me solemnly. ‘What do you think?’
‘You tell me,’ I snapped, ‘since you seem to reckon I can’t think!’ I stomped ahead to the car.
‘Daniel, I’m not saying you can’t think for yourself,’ Dad said as he caught up with me. ‘I’m just saying that maybe it’s what Mum and I think that should count in this particular instance.’
‘If what Mum thought always counted she’d be a stripper by now!’ I exploded.
‘Daniel, don’t speak about your mother like that!’
‘I’m not speaking about Mum! I’m speaking about … about that … that other …’ But I couldn’t finish the sentence. It was Mum I was talking about in a way, but in a way it wasn’t. In a way I was talking about someone entirely different – about that other woman who had taken over my mother and pranced about the house in that hideous dress.
‘Daniel, you must try not to think of Mum as being two different people,’ Dad said gently. ‘This isn’t a case of Jekyll and Hyde.’
