by Sue Shepherd
After a couple of minutes, curiosity got the better of her, and she lifted her head from her nanna’s lap and edged her way out into the garden. She stood completely still, watching her mum. Lisa watched too, she seemed to be quietly counting every compression, every breath. She was fascinated.
Don ran into the garden, announcing as he flew past, ‘They’re sending it now. It’s coming. For Christ’s sake, save him!’
Pat refused to be distracted, continuing with her routine.
The next part went by in a blur. Later, when she tried to recall how long they’d waited, Beth couldn’t be sure. She knew her dad had paced around the garden. She knew Nanna had turned her attention to Michelle, who had gotten upset when it had finally dawned on her what was happening. And she knew Lisa continually told her not to panic. But it could have been a minute, it could have been ten.
Then, two things happened at once – the sound of sirens echoed around the garden and Charlie began noisily coughing up water.
A pale faced Don fetched Charlie’s parents from number forty-six, and they arrived, shocked and bewildered, just in time to accompany him to the hospital.
That night, as they got ready for bed, the twins talked about what had happened to Charlie.
‘Those ambulance people were impressed with Mum,’ Lisa said.
‘Yeah. But I don’t get why he went back to the pool. Why do it?’ Beth asked.
‘How should I know? To be honest, I would’ve thought he’d be more interested in the food. He loves cake.’
‘There was me thinking he was in the toilet. I wish I’d known he was lying in the water.’
‘Look, it’s like I’ve told you before, he’s just a bit thick.’
‘I know, but … he could have died.’
‘I knew he wouldn’t.’ Lisa sounded smug.
‘Maybe you did, but I didn’t! He looked really weird, his hair was kind of spread out around his head, like a lion or something.’
‘He does have a big head, doesn’t he?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Oh, he definitely does. His head looks like that thing you entered into the odd shaped vegetable contest at the summer fair.’
‘Lisa, don’t talk about him like that. Not when he could have died.’
‘Why not? Nearly drowning doesn’t stop him being an idiot. It doesn’t make him brave. He’s been a wally since the day we met him. He laughs at his own jokes and he tries to smell his own farts!’
‘Lisa!’
‘Well, he does. Remember the school play last Christmas, when he was Joseph and you were Mary? One line he had. One stupid line. How many times did he make you practice?’
In a squeaky voice, Beth said, ‘My wife’s about to give birth, we need shelter.’
‘Exactly, he’s a wally if he can’t remember that. Then there’s the stuff with the Polo mint. Breaking it into pieces and trying to convince the tooth fairy he’d lost four teeth in one night!’
‘I don’t think he actually means to be a wally.’
Lisa was adamant. ‘He doesn’t know how to be anything else.’
‘Poor Charlie. I just can’t bear the thought of him being face down in the water.’ Beth shuddered. ‘I’d hate not being able to breath.’ She asked again, ‘Why would he go back to the paddling pool.’
‘You need to stop worrying about it. He’s alive. He’ll be home soon, up to his usual stuff. Trying to impress you and Michelle.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ A thought struck Beth. ‘It’s a shame we never got to blow out our candles, isn’t it?’
In disbelief, Lisa asked, ‘Is that all you can think of? Anyway, Mum did them for us. For safety.’
For a moment, they were silent. Both so proud of their quick-thinking mum.
Beth shook her head. ‘I never imagined her doing stuff like that. Even though I know she works in a hospital. I never thought …’
‘She’s in the accident bit, for God’s sake. What do you think she does all day?’
‘I know. Sorry. How silly of me,’ Beth apologised to her sister, then asked, ‘Will you tell me a story? I’m not sleepy enough.’
Lisa began to recite Alice in Wonderland, her personal favourite, occasionally stopping to talk again about the day’s events. ‘Poor Dad.’
‘Oh yes, poor Dad. I thought he was going to be sick.’
‘I suppose he blamed himself. You know, it was his idea to make a pool.’
Beth wondered, ‘Do you think Charlie’s parents will blame Dad?’
‘They’d better not. It definitely wasn’t his fault.’
‘I’ll bet they will blame him though. They’ll be mad for sure.’
‘Look. Charlie’s all right. He didn’t die. So, as long as he hasn’t gone doolally, what right do they have to be mad?’
Beth hoped Lisa was right. She worried much more than her twin. All she knew was she didn’t want Charlie’s parents to be angry with their dad. She wanted them to be grateful to their mum. Their brilliant mum who saved lives.
Lisa resumed her story, and Beth began to doze off. As well as her sister’s elaborate tale of the Mad Hatter’s tea party, she was aware of their parents talking downstairs. The last thing she heard before she gave in to sleep, was Don saying, ‘Blimey, Pat, none of us will forget this day in a hurry.’ And he was right.
Three
Not long afterwards, Charlie and his parents moved away. Beth wasn’t surprised when she heard the news, she figured maybe they just couldn’t cope with living so close to the place where they’d nearly lost him.
He came to see Beth on his last day. ‘I’ve not got long, they’re just finishing packing up the van.’
‘Is it weird seeing all the stuff coming out of your house?’ Beth couldn’t imagine leaving the home she’d known all her life.
‘Yeah. It’s rubbish. They packed my BMX first, stupid idiots.’
‘Well you’ll get it back when you get to your new house,’ she tried to reassure him.
‘I know. But … for God’s sake. It’s jammed into the back of the van now. How thick are they?’ Charlie seemed unduly upset about his bike.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’d like to ride it now, I guess.’
‘Are you sad that you’re going?’
‘Duh? What do you think?’
Beth stared at the ground. ‘Sorry.’
Charlie folded his arms and sighed. ‘I don’t even get why we have to go. It’s bloody miles away.’
‘It’s your dad’s job, isn’t it?’
‘Uh huh. But …’
‘What?’
‘He had a perfectly good job here. They said it’s a fresh start or something. But I don’t want to leave Tennison Avenue.’
Beth was worried. Charlie looked tearful, and she’d never seen a boy cry before. What was she supposed to do? Tentatively, she put her arm around him and gave a squeeze. ‘I think it’s hard for them … you know, living here. Because … you …’
‘But I’m fine. I didn’t die. If I can still be here, why can’t they?’
Beth was pleased. He was so in tune with her, there had been no need for her to say the words. ‘They were very upset. It’s what they want.’
Unexpectedly, Charlie stamped his foot. ‘What about me? What about what I want? I don’t wanna leave you …’ Seeing her surprise, he quickly added, ‘Or Michelle. You’re my friends.’
She wasn’t sure what to say. She liked Charlie. He was funny. She was going to miss him. But it wasn’t as bad as if she were losing Michelle. Michelle had always been the more important of her two friends. Deciding to try to be positive, she patted him gently on the back and said, ‘You’ll make friends at your new house and school. Maybe there’ll be boys you can play football with or something.’ She tried an encouraging smile.
He stared into the distance. ‘I don’t want them. I want …’
‘Your mum’s waving at us.’
‘Huh?’
‘Turn
around. Look. Your mum’s trying to get your attention.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Charlie stamped his foot again.
His mum held the dog’s lead in one hand, with the other she signalled ‘five minutes’.
Charlie looked more than ever as if he was about to cry. ‘They’re putting Dylan in the car. I don’t have long.’
‘I guess not.’ She was sorry for him. ‘Listen, you can write to me,’ she offered. ‘Let me know your new address and I’ll write back.’
‘OK.’
‘I’ll miss Dylan. He’s a lovely dog. So clever.’
‘Yeah. I taught him to give me his paw last week. I didn’t even get the chance to show you.’ Charlie pouted.
The more annoyed Charlie became, the more Beth felt uncomfortable. ‘Um … do you think we ought to knock at Michelle’s?’ She knew Michelle would want to say goodbye, and hopefully she’d know what to do to stop Charlie from crying, if and when he started.
‘Yeah. If you like.’ He scraped his trainers along the pavement as they walked to their friend’s house.
Just before they began making their way down Michelle’s path, Charlie unexpectedly stopped in his tracks and grabbed Beth’s hand. Mumbling, ‘Thanks for being my friend, Campbell,’ he kissed her clumsily on the cheek.
It wasn’t like him at all, it was different to anything he’d done before; Beth was totally gobsmacked. Unsure of what to do, she chose to do nothing. In silence, they resumed walking, and within seconds they’d reached the front step. Beth rang the bell and Michelle opened the door almost immediately.
‘I’m here to say goodbye, you bloody wally.’ Charlie punched Michelle playfully on the arm.
‘Tragic!’ Michelle replied.
And, just like that, the unfamiliar Charlie was gone. Beth watched as, before her eyes, he switched back to his usual self.
To cheer her up at the departure of her friend, Nanna gave Beth a couple of pounds to treat herself. After much deliberation, she decided to buy a pack of temporary tattoos from Woolworths.
Although usually a lover of all things pink, Beth was somehow persuaded by Lisa to try something different. The tattoos she bought were black, and the designs were a selection of skulls, snakes and daggers.
Later, in Michelle’s bedroom, Beth and Michelle used a wet flannel to stick the tattoos to their skin. Starting with just one each, they somehow got carried away, until before they knew it they were squeezing as many tattoos as was humanly possible onto their skinny arms. Convinced they must look cool, they had no idea that once they’d finished they resembled a couple of dockers.
Noticing the time, Beth said, ‘I’d better go before your mum comes back.’ She wasn’t keen on Michelle’s mum. Mrs Grant wasn’t welcoming like her mum or Nanna. She was the kind of woman to complain about the smallest amount of mess and make you take your shoes off, even if there wasn’t a scrap of mud on them.
‘I think she’s gone to the CO-OP. She’ll be ages yet.’ Michelle was beginning to regret the tattoos and she didn’t want her friend to go.
Not convinced, Beth opened the bedroom door. ‘Even so, I’d better get home.’
Coming down the stairs, the girls were horrified to bump into Michelle’s mum.
She barged through the front door, laden down with numerous carrier bags. ‘What the hell have you two done?’ Her mouth was pinched in. It reminded Beth of the rubber tea towel holders at Nanna’s house.
Caught off guard, and with no time to cover the offending articles, Michelle became flustered. ‘Um … they’re tattoos, Mum. They’re not real though.’ Her eyes darted from her mum to her friend.
‘I should hope they’re not real. They look as common as muck.’ Michelle’s mum’s favourite expression was ‘common as muck’. ‘Get them off!’ Dropping the bags, she began rubbing at her daughter’s arms with the flat of her hand.
Michelle squealed. ‘Ouch. You’re hurting!’
Beth tried to explain, ‘They come off if you wash them, Mrs Grant. You don’t need to ‒’
‘Do not tell me what I need to do, child!’ Unbelievably, Michelle’s mum took a swing at Beth.
Beth’s family didn’t believe in hitting children; this reaction shocked her. She stepped back.
Michelle’s mum dragged her poor daughter by the afore mentioned arms into the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, Beth decided to follow, which could possibly be described as a brave act.
Reaching for a scouring pad, one of the ones that’s spongy on one side and green on the other, Michelle’s mum began scrubbing at her daughter’s arms with the dry abrasive side.
Michelle screamed as her arms instantly became inflamed.
‘Whose idea was it to buy these?’ her mum asked.
Michelle was sobbing, she was in no fit state to reply. Beth gave the answer. ‘It was mine. I had some money and ‒’
‘Do you think this is a good idea?’
Of course, what she meant was, did Beth think it was a good idea to buy temporary tattoos shaped like skulls and snakes, and plaster them all up their arms. That was, no doubt, her intended question.
But Beth was confused, she thought Michelle’s mum was asking an entirely different question. ‘No, I don’t. I think you’re a mean old cow, and I don’t think you should be scrubbing like that.’
‘HOW BLOODY DARE YOU?’ Again, Michelle’s mum took a swipe. This time, her slap came extremely close to Beth’s face.
Beth decided that being there with that mad woman wasn’t for her. Turning, she ran towards the front door. Yanking it open, she made her way out into the street. Like a kidnap victim fleeing her captives, she ran the five house distance in record time and raced down the side of their house.
Nanna was in the kitchen. As Beth crashed through the back door, like a bat out of hell, their old washing machine was dancing its way around the room. Nanna started to reprimand her granddaughter, ‘Don’t come in this way, I’m trying to sort out your mum’s wash …’ But spotting Beth’s face, she instantly asked, ‘What on earth has happened?’
As soon as Beth began to explain, Nanna was out of the house and on Mrs Grant’s front step.
‘What the devil’s got into you, Doreen?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘No idea? Well that doesn’t surprise me, you’re not known around here for your brains.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard me.’
‘How bloody rude.’
‘You’d know all about rude,’ Nanna scoffed. ‘I remember you as a child. A right little madam you were, even then. Your mother had to take you everywhere twice.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘The second time was to apologise!’
‘How dare you? I don’t have to stand here and ‒’
‘Listen, Doreen,’ Nanna cut in. ‘Beth’s just told me you’ve been scrubbing your daughter’s arms with a scouring pad.’
‘Yes. I have. Because that stupid child stuck disgusting tattoos to her skin. Those girls looked like workmen. There were skulls and ‒’
‘Oh please, do stop. They’re temporary! And I’ll thank you not to call Beth stupid. She’s only ten and she already knows what you were doing was ridiculously over the top.’
Michelle’s mum’s face was a picture. She was no match for Nanna.
Without seeming to draw breath, Nanna continued, ‘Everyone knows the best way to remove those tattoos is to give the child a warm, soapy bath, let her soak her arms, then give them a gentle rub.’
‘I … I …’
‘And the most important thing, if you ever, I mean EVER, try to slap my granddaughter again, you’ll have a bloody good fight on your hands. Do you hear me?’
Beth took that to mean Nanna would slap Mrs Grant – marvellous! Throughout the entire conversation, Michelle’s mum stood, shell-shocked, her mouth hanging open. Every attempt to interrupt was thwarted by Nanna.
Once she’d made her point, Nan
na didn’t wait around to hear any more of Doreen’s nonsense. Taking her granddaughter’s arm, she quickly led her back down the path.
As they heard the front door slam behind them, Beth asked, ‘Would you really slap her if she hurt me, Nanna?’
‘You bet your sweet life I would, Butch.’
Four
Over the next few years, with Pat and Don often at work, Nanna continued to be there for Beth during the school holidays. Frightened of the threats made by little old five-foot two-inch Nanna, Michelle’s mum made sure she took no further swipes at Beth. Michelle and Beth’s friendship continued to flourish and they became closer than ever. Beth was sad to see that no letter from Charlie Morris found its way to her door, but she concluded that probably meant he’d made new friends. Which was surely a good thing. Was he driving someone else mad singing his favourite song? Were his new friends being called wallys? Most importantly ‒ had he told anyone about the paddling pool party? She supposed she’d never know.
When Beth left school, she was disappointed to find she’d only achieved two passes in her GCSEs. She’d wanted to do so much better. But she’d found school hard. Learning didn’t come easy to her. There were just too many distractions.
She sat in the kitchen with her nanna, screwing up the paper that carried her disappointing results.
‘There’s nothing to be gained by discussing it now. You’ve got what you’ve got. That’s about the size of it.’
‘But Nanna …’
‘Don’t “but Nanna” me. You need a job. Your parents won’t be getting any child benefit now you’re sixteen, they’ll be expecting rent money.’
‘You’re kidding? I’ve got to get a job, then give my wages to them?’
Nanna refused to be drawn into Beth’s moaning. ‘Just a bit of it. You’ll still have some left. Now what do you fancy?’
‘For what?’
‘A job, silly!’
‘I don’t know. What can a person with two GCSEs do?’
‘I’d say something like shop work, hairdressing or cleaning.’
‘CLEANING?’ Beth shouted.
