***
TEN
“I’m bored.”
Claire looked over at the little girl on the sofa next to her. A crumpled magazine lay discarded on the floor and she stared at Claire, arms folded, bottom lip jutting out like a bad collagen injection. The pitch of her voice stabbed through Claire’s headache like a stiletto heel. Swallowing her irritation, Claire pushed a smile in place and lowered her book.
“Sorry, sweetie, have you finished your magazine? We’ll go up to bed in a while but, as we’re in a shared dorm, I thought it might be nice to sit down here in the lounge for a bit.”
Claire had no idea what she was going to do once the little girl was tucked up in the bottom bunk. She wasn’t looking forward to another battle over why Sky wasn’t allowed to sleep on top either. The idea of explaining to her sister that her niece had fallen five foot from a bunk-bed during the night was not something she could contemplate without horror.
Sky’s sulk didn’t show any signs of waning. Claire sighed, her cheeks aching from the forced smile. “What would you do at home before bedtime?”
“Mummy reads me stories, or I watch The Simpsons with her.”
The Simpsons? At bedtime? No wonder the girl has nightmares. Searching her brain for an alternative to enduring whatever banal stories Pony Magazine had to offer, Claire caught sight of a teenage girl on the opposite side of the room, engrossed in a game on her iPhone.
“What about computer games?”
Sky’s eyes lit up and then died, like a short-lived supernova. “Mummy doesn’t allow computer games. We only have one computer and she uses it for her work. She says they’re all silly games that will rot my brain.”
And watching the Simpsons won’t? I wonder about my sister sometimes. No wonder she’s so tired all the time. Aren’t games designed as free childcare?
“Well, why don’t we see if there are any apps on the iPad that your Mummy wouldn’t disapprove of? What about reading and writing ones?”
The tiny face fell. “They sound boring. Jenny has one where you paint fingernails, can we download that?” The girl scooted across the sofa and snuggled next to Claire, tucking herself under Claire’s arm. Not sure whether to sigh or smile, Claire pulled her iPad onto her lap and began searching for apps.
Twenty minutes later she returned to her book, glancing over occasionally at Sky to make sure she was okay. Her niece’s face was tight with concentration and all trace of boredom had gone. It can’t be that bad, surely, if it makes her happy? Ruth doesn’t need to know.
Retrieving her paperback she thumbed through the pages until she found her spot. Katniss was in the trees hiding from Peeta when the shrill of a ringing phone broke the silence. Damn. Turn that phone off, will you? The noise continued until Claire realised it was her phone, jangling in her pocket.
With flushed cheeks she fished it out and looked at the number. Her dinner sank to the pit of her stomach and she considered hitting cancel. Don’t be a coward. Slowly releasing a deep sigh, Claire selected answer and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” With a glance at Sky, she got up and walked over to the window. Her niece didn’t register her departure.
“Claire? Hi, how are you?”
The voice caused her dinner to start a tango in the bottom of her tummy. “Hi Michael. I’m fine, thanks.” She heard him hesitate and hoped her frigid tones would cause him to cut the call short. I doubt it. Michael must have a leather hide not to have got the hint already.
“I rang to see how you are? After the mugging and all. You haven’t posted much on Twitter recently. Not that I’m stalking you or anything,” he added quickly, as that exact thought went through her mind. “I was just worried.”
“I’m looking after Sky for a couple of weeks.” Of course, Michael doesn’t know about Ruth’s illness. It seemed strange, Michael not knowing something so essential to her life. She tried to decide whether he needed to know now, and concluded he didn’t.
“Really?” The shock in his voice made her grimace. “I thought you hated spending time with your nieces and nephews.” There was something else in his voice too. Was it hope?
“I do.” Let’s put an end to that seed before it germinates. “Ruth needed some time, that’s all, and I couldn’t say no.” She looked over her shoulder. “Besides, she’s old enough to be good company. Most of the time.”
“Children are, you know. They say the funniest things, and they make you really live life. Everything is new and fresh seen through their eyes.” His voice was soft; it made Claire shudder.
“Yes, well. It’s about time I put this little lady to bed. We’re in a shared dorm and it might take a while.”
She heard him breathe out, and knew she had offended him with her curt response. Serves him right for not knowing when to quit.
“Of course. Well, as long as you’re okay.” He paused.
Don’t say it, don’t say it. Please.
“I miss you.” And he was gone.
***
ELEVEN
“Auntie Claire, why hasn’t the Easter Bunny been? Couldn’t he find me?”
Claire opened her eyes and blinked them into focus. Inches from her face a little pouting mouth quivered beneath eyes full of tears. Bugger. It’s Easter Sunday. Why didn’t Ruth tell me Sky believes in the bloody Easter Bunny? I mean, who believes in the Easter Bunny? Isn’t that an American thing? The shops aren’t even going to be open today.
Trying to locate some clear thoughts in her cotton-wool brain, Claire felt an urge to pull the duvet back over her head and pretend her niece was a bad dream. The quivering turned into a wobble and Claire sensed an imminent meltdown. Conscious of the four other women asleep in the dorm, she let out a quiet groan and forced a smile.
“I’m sure he forgot you were travelling, Sky, and left your eggs with your Mummy. You can look forward to getting them when I take you home.” The wobbling showed no sign of abating, and the tears were tumbling now, running rivulets down little red cheeks. Don’t cry, please. It’s too early.
“I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to a coffee shop today and you can get a babycino and a large piece of cake.”
A calculating look crept into the tear-drenched eyes and Claire felt able to breathe. “Chocolate cake?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want. With cream and ice cream.”
The face disappeared as Sky climbed back down the ladder. Claire’s duvet clung onto her like a lover, but she knew that her niece wouldn’t sit quietly on her bed for long. Sure enough, a minute later a voice called out, much too loud. “Auntie Claire, can we go to the coffee shop now? Please?”
Claire groaned and wrenched herself free from the warm cocoon of sleep. Leaning over the bunk she hissed in as quiet a voice as would carry, “Soon, Sky, but shush please, other people are sleeping. Get dressed and we’ll go down for breakfast.”
Zoning out the muted grumbling from below, Claire sunk her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. Moments into a beautiful dream, of lying on a warm beach towel being baked by the hot sun, Claire felt a tug at the duvet followed by arctic air ripping the warmth from her body.
“Sky, did you just pull my covers off? You selfish little brat.” The words were out before she could stop them. Claire felt the blood rush to her face as she realised how awful they sounded in the still of the room. Please god let everyone else still be asleep. Lulled by the ensuing silence, Claire figured Sky must have not heard her harsh words. Then she caught the intake of breath that signalled a brewing storm, and she tumbled down out of the bunk-bed as fast as a Marine called to attention.
Wrapping the quivering shoulders in a smothering hug, Claire stroked her niece’s hair and shushed her. “I’m sorry darling: that was unforgiveable. It’s not nice to pull someone’s duvet off when they’re hardly awake, but it was wrong of me to call you names.”
The sobs still came. Loud wracking cries echoed out through the cuddle, leaving Claire’s skin prickli
ng in mortification.
Thank god we have a private room booked at the next hostel. The sooner we get out of here the better. Claire comforted the child as best she could, then helped her get dressed for the day.
I’m not sure I’m going to survive two weeks of this. Ruth, my dear, I take it all back. You’re a saint. I was right, too. Parenting is most definitely not for me.
***
TWELVE
“Sky, come away from the edge, sweetheart. Sky? I said come away from the edge!” Claire ran forwards to catch hold of her niece as she leaned over the railings, her feet dangling a foot above the path. She peered down at the two-story drop and retreated to the middle of the walkway, swallowing bile. Honestly, I used to think Castles were a bit boring but I feel like I’ve been on the Big Dipper at Blackpool. She felt the sweat trickle down into her bra, despite the freezing wind whistling around the half-ruined castle walls.
On her right she could feel the view stretching into the distance. If she turned she knew she would see a lake and a glimpse of the village in the distance. If I’d been watching Sky instead of admiring the scenery my niece wouldn’t have nearly thrown herself twenty foot to her death. We should have stayed in Framlingham and had tea and scones, it would have been less stressful.
She turned the little girl to face her and squatted down to allow her to look directly into her eyes. Brushing away the wisps of hair that were escaping Sky’s ponytail, Claire inhaled deeply. “Sky, I know you want to explore, but you must listen to Auntie Claire. It’s very dangerous, leaning over the edge like that. What would your Mummy say if you fell and hurt yourself? Or worse?” Never mind what she’d do to me.
Sky hung her head. “Sorry, Auntie Claire. I’ve never been to a real castle before. I was pretending to be Rapunzel, trapped in the tower.” She shook her ponytail, which skimmed just below her shoulders. “I was letting down my hair. You know.”
It rang a bell in Claire’s mind, but she hadn’t read the story recently. A fact popped up. “Didn’t the prince fall and have his eyes poked out by a bramble bush?”
Sky stared at her, open mouthed, her eyes wide. Thinking that seemed a bit harsh for a children’s story, Claire shook her head to dismiss the image. “Ignore me; that must have been something else. So what happens when Rapunzel lets down her hair?” She stood and led the girl away from the yawning gap and back into the castle.
“She hits Flynn on the head with a frying pan and ties him to a chair.”
What? That’s definitely not the Brothers Grimm version I remember. Sounds much better though. So, Feminism reaches Disney? Probably not before time.
“Well, no hitting any boys on the head with frying pans when I’m around please.” She thought about her own bump to the head. A frying pan would have been a handy thing to have had in the dark lane when she was mugged. “Well, not unless they hurt you first at any rate.”
Feeling she had experienced enough of life trapped in a tower of stone, Claire waited until they were safely away from the railing before tilting her head and smiling at Sky. “Are you about ready for that chocolate cake?”
***
THIRTEEN
“Did you enjoy your cake? We need to head off now. We’re staying in Sheringham tonight and it’s a bit of a drive. We’ll stop off at Norwich to break the journey.”
Sky pulled a face. “Why do we have to move again? I hate being in the car all the time. You don’t even have a CD player. It’s boring.”
Claire curled her hands into fists beneath the table. “Sorry, Sky. I don’t know if your Mummy told you, but I’m working on an assignment at the moment. Even though it’s lovely looking after you, I still need to work. But don’t worry: as it’s the Easter Holidays I had to juggle accommodation a bit, and we’re staying at the next hostel for a few days.”
The little face hidden beneath wisps of blonde hair grew darker and a tiny rose-bud lip jutted out. Claire no longer found it cute. Searching her brain for memories of what Sheringham had to offer, she came up trumps. “It’s near the sea. If the weather is nice we’ll be able to go to the beach.”
The transformation was instant. Sky’s head rose and her eyes sparkled. “I’ve never been to the seaside. Will there be sand? Like at the big sandpit in the park? Can we make sandcastles?”
Claire had no idea if the beaches at Sheringham were sandy, or the pebbly sort she associated with the British coast. She was pretty sure it would be more impressive than any park sandpit, even if it was covered in seaweed and rocks. Either way, now was not the time for honesty. The café was crowded and so far they had managed to have their coffee and cake without any screaming or tantrums.
“Yes, Sky, I’m sure it’s a sandy beach. I will buy you a bucket and spade as soon as we get there. Now, what do you fancy doing in Norwich? We’ll get a late lunch, as I’m sure you’re all full of cake. Shall we have a look at the iPad and see if there’s anything interesting to do?” Clearly keeping you busy is the best way of ensuring a harmonious holiday.
Claire tapped some words into the iPad and looked at the results. “Castles. Gardens. Museums. Hmmm.” She tabbed over to the map and back to the search engine. Even with her head bent over the table she could sense Sky’s growing impatience. I really should have been more organised. I hadn’t realised Sky would need entertainment as well as accommodation. I’m sure when we were kids our parents chucked us out in the garden and left us to it. When we were home, that is. Maybe siblings are useful for something.
She glanced up at Sky and felt a wave of pity for the girl, who would probably never know the pleasure and pain of brothers and sisters. At least I can make sure these two weeks are fun. Besides, it’s all great stuff for the blog. Chucking yourself off the balcony at an English Heritage Castle is probably not what Happy Cola would want as High Adrenalin activity, but mentioning all these places should help my Google rankings.
Dropping her eyes to the screen again, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “Right, Sky, change of plan. We’ll go via Great Yarmouth and you can see the sea before bedtime. There’s lots to do in Great Yarmouth. What’s it to be? Sea Life or Merrivale Model Village?”
Sky leaned over and stared at the iPad screen, absorbed in choosing their afternoon activity. Claire tried not to look at the entry prices, knowing Carl wouldn't consider either one sufficiently exciting to claim on expenses. What do parents do when they have more than one child? I could go to Ragdale Spa for the cost of taking a family of five on a day trip. No wonder Ruth is always complaining about being skint. You’d have to be mad to have kids I reckon.
***
FOURTEEN
“Auntie Claire, look!”
Claire turned her head at the unexpected sound of Sky giggling. After an hour moaning in the car that the iPad battery was flat and twenty minutes of shoe shuffling and whining in the queue, Claire had forgotten that her niece could laugh. The decision to come to Merrivale Model Village already seemed a bad one, and they’d only been inside ten minutes.
We should have done Sea Life. I could have bought a coffee and left her to it knowing she couldn’t damage anything. If I leave her in here she’ll probably trample on the exhibits or start playing with them. Seeing her niece still waving and jiggling up and down, Claire swallowed a sigh and went to investigate.
“What is it, Sky?”
“Look!” She pointed at the scene in front of them. “That little woman is…” she lowered her voice to a whisper that probably carried to the edge of the village, “showing her boobies! See?”
Claire peered at the tiny model people. Oh god. There’s a half-naked woman being arrested at a football match. Seriously? Don’t these people know kids come here?
As if confirming Claire’s worst fears, Sky took a deep breath and said, too loudly, “why is she showing her boobies, Claire? What are the policemen doing? Did someone steal her clothes?”
Looking round wildly for assistance or guidance, all Claire could see were other parents trying not to sm
ile. Avoiding eye contact, Claire wrapped her arm around Sky’s shoulder. “Don’t talk so loud, darling.”
“Why not?” Sky’s voice would have filled the O2 Arena.
“Other people are trying to enjoy their afternoon out, that’s all.” She hoped her niece had forgotten the interrogation about the streaker, but she was out of luck.
“Why didn’t she have a top on? Was she sunbathing? Sometimes Mummy sunbathes without her top on in the garden.”
“Um. I’m not sure. Why don’t we go and look at the train? Or the high street?” She pulled at her niece’s hand and led her away from the traitorous football match.
“Oh, look Sky, the hospital, let’s go there.”
The Whys didn’t stop: It turned out the hospital was full of realistic details, like some poor man having his leg sawn off. “Why are they cutting his leg, Claire? Is he poorly?” Then, “Why is there smoke coming from that house? Is it on fire? Why haven’t the firemen put it out?” Even the castle let Claire down. “Why does the princess have a pointy hat, Claire?” Unable to remember whether it was called a wimple or a hennin, Claire once more resorted to her stock phrase, “I don’t know, darling,” all the while cursing the quirky nature of the model village.
I guess you have to have a sense of humour to run a place like this. Claire looked at the Boggitt and Scarper builder’s sign and the Lord Help Us Hall and smiled. How much time does it take to put all these people in position? If you couldn’t have a laugh you’d go bonkers. Claire read a tiny sign declaring, “Keep off Grass, Guard Ducks Patrol this Garden, Survivors will be Prosecuted,” and laughed out loud. Maybe the sick humour is to keep the adults amused. God knows it must be boring to be a parent at a place like this. Or anywhere.
She tried to tune out the Whys, but discovered if she didn’t answer quickly enough, Sky’s voice became louder and more shrill. As the question was usually one Claire didn’t want to hear echoing amongst the milling families she had to respond swiftly and with detail. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ had apparently lost its effectiveness.
Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Four Page 3
