See If I Care

by Judi Curtin

  His mother read it and then looked at Luke. ‘You want to wash cars?’

  Luke shrugged. ‘I thought I might try – you know, save a bit for Christmas.’ He wondered if she remembered that Jack paid him every Saturday. He hadn’t mentioned it for ages – not since he’d decided what to spend it on.

  She thought for a minute. ‘As long as you do your homework first.’ She held up the leaflet. ‘And you only do this around here, not all over the place.’

  The next day she came home with twenty pages, and Luke went out before tea and shoved them through the letterboxes of the houses where he thought people might like someone to wash their cars: Mr Madden, and the Lehane’s, and Mrs Lorrigan and Miss Looby, and the man at the end of the road who lived with his mother, whose name Luke didn’t know, and a few on the next road who might be interested.

  He wondered if anyone would phone him. Maybe everyone went to automatic car washes now – maybe nobody wanted a human car wash any more.

  After tea, he decided to get his next penfriend letter done, even though it wasn’t due until the middle of next week. He’d been feeling a bit guilty for telling her all those lies, especially as she seemed to believe that stupid story about Rocket breaking his leg and having to be put down, and the rubbish about him climbing mountains in Spain.

  And even if she didn’t believe him, at least she didn’t say anything nasty.

  He was sorry now for being so sarcastic about her mother’s gravy, and about her violin playing – telling her to join a world famous orchestra – that was a bit mean. Mrs Hutchinson said people who used sarcasm were trying to be funny in a nasty way. She said sarcasm was ‘the lowest form of wit’.

  OK, no more lies. From now on, he’d tell her the truth. He picked up her envelope and looked at the way she’d written his name, with a little curled-up line, like a pig’s tail, coming out of the end of the ‘e’. Pity she had to be a girl, though.

  Then, for the first time, he noticed the stamp. The Queen of England was standing on her head.

  Luke stared. Was she copying him, or had she just stuck it on in a hurry without realising? Were English people allowed to stick the Queen on upside down?

  He took Mrs Hutchinson’s envelope from his schoolbag and wrote Elma’s name and school address on it. Just for the laugh, he put a curled-up line coming out of the end of the ‘y’ of ‘Davey’. She probably wouldn’t even notice.

  He stuck on some famous church, with its steeple pointing down, in the top right hand corner, and then he opened his notebook.

  Dear Penfriend,

  I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I hope he recovers soon. He sounds brave.

  I have two sisters, one older and one younger. I’d like a brother, but I don’t think I’ll have one now.

  It’s funny you didn’t think I had a mam. She works in a travel agency. My granny lives with us too – she moved in about three years ago – so there are six people altogether in my house. Sometimes it’s a bit too many, especially when my older sister is in a mood.

  No, I never heard of Vanessa-Mae. I don’t listen to the radio much, I prefer my dad’s collection of music. He has loads of stuff like The Beatles and The Kinks and The Doors and bands like that. My favourite band is Supertramp – have you ever heard of them? They were famous in the seventies, and they had loads of hits. One of their albums is called Breakfast in America (they’re from there) and it’s the name of a song too. They’re cool.

  Maybe I was wrong about your mother’s gravy. It sounds like she knows a lot about it. I never knew there was more than one kind.

  Well, that’s about it,

  Luke

  PS I don’t think I’d be much good in an orchestra, as the only thing I play is the fool (ha ha).

  ELMA

  As soon as the bell rang for break, Elma raced out of the classroom, across the playground and behind the bicycle shed. There she hid, clutching her side and panting as she struggled to catch her breath. She had to avoid Tara at all costs. Elma liked Tara very much. And Tara liked Elma. All the other girls in the class had given up on her years ago, soon after Dad’s accident. But Tara was new in her school, and she still thought that Elma was a normal girl from a normal family. She thought that the only strange thing about Elma was her mother’s bad cooking. Except for the lumpy gravy and the soggy carrots, she figured that everything was just fine with the Davey family. Tara knew about Dad’s accident, of course, Evil Josh had seen to that, but she didn’t know how bad things were at home. She had absolutely no idea.

  Now though, everything was starting to go wrong. Tara was no longer satisfied with just being friends at school. She wanted to do other stuff with Elma, stuff that involved seeing each other outside school. And how could that ever happen?

  Elma had to mind Zac and Dylan every day. If she left them with her dad, it just wouldn’t be safe. It would be like leaving a baby in charge of her baby brothers. Since his accident, Elma hadn’t trusted Dad very much, but after the day when Zac cut his face so badly, and Dad hadn’t even managed to drag himself out of bed to see if it was serious, she knew he was no help at all. So there was no way Elma could leave the boys and go to Tara’s house.

  And how could she invite Tara to her house?

  What if she saw the mess in the kitchen – the breakfast stuff all over the table, and probably some of the previous night’s dinner things, too?

  What if Tara looked out of the window, expecting to see a lovely garden with flowers and swings, and instead saw Snowball rampaging around the yard, snarling?

  What if Tara saw Elma’s dad, who hadn’t shaved or cut his hair in months, lying on a couch in his old tracksuit bottoms, and whining for a cup of tea and a ham sandwich?

  What if Mum came home and there was a huge row?

  No, it just wasn’t even possible to think of it without feeling sick. She’d have to put Tara off.

  But yesterday, Tara had been really pushy about it. ‘We’ve been best friends for two and a half months now,’ she said. ‘It’s time we did something fun. I’m going to ask my mum can we do something tomorrow. You can ask your mum, too. We could go to one of our houses for tea.’

  Elma didn’t know what to say. She’d already invented ballet classes on Monday and Wednesday afternoons, and violin lessons on Tuesdays and Fridays, and she’d said that she always did family stuff at the weekends. But she hadn’t invented anything for Thursdays. And today was Thursday. But instead of just saying ‘no’, she’d said ‘maybe’, so now Tara was looking for her. And she was afraid if she put her off again, Tara would give up on her altogether, and she’d have no friend at all. There would be no one to defend her when Evil Josh called her names involving lumpy gravy and soggy carrots.

  She peeped around the shed. She could see Josh and his horrible friends strutting around like big ugly turkeys. She could see Tara looking all around the playground for her. She was glad when the bell rang. Back in the classroom, Tara came over. ‘Where were you?’ she asked. ‘I was looking for you. What did your mum say about this afternoon?’

  Elma half turned away. Even though she’d had plenty of practice, she still wasn’t very good at telling lies (except in letters to Luke Mitchell, and that didn’t really count.)

  ‘Sorry, Tara,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I was looking for you, too. I wanted to tell you I can’t do stuff with you after school today. I forgot that I have to go to the dentist.’

  Tara gave her a hug. ‘You poor thing. Maybe next week.’

  Elma put her head down. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘maybe.’

  So instead of doing fun stuff in Tara’s house, the afternoon was just like all the others. Walk the boys home. Clean the house. Cook the tea. Try to ignore Snowball growling, and the endless noise of yet another nature programme from the living room.

  She was so busy that she forgot all about Luke’s letter with the upside-down stamp, and the funny curly tail coming from the ‘y’ at the end of Davey.

  As she sat down to do he
r homework, she pulled the envelope out of her bag with one of her copies. She slipped the letter out and began to read.

  When she was finished, she put the letter down and thought for a while. Luke wasn’t his usual self. Was it something she had said? He sounded kind of sad. Maybe it was because he had no brothers. Funny, really. He had no brothers, and she had no sisters. Maybe they should swap families or something. She made a face at the thought. Who’d want to swap families with her? Who’d volunteer to live her life? Not Luke Mitchell, with his perfect life, that was for sure.

  He sounded like he really was sorry for what had happened to Dad. But that was only because he didn’t know the truth. If he knew about the toilet, he’d just laugh. Like everyone else.

  That was the good thing about Luke Mitchell. He only knew what Elma decided he should know. And if it was only half-true, or even not at all true, well … he’d never know, would he? And what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Could it?

  She addressed her envelope with a curly ‘e’ in Luke, and a star with a face in it instead of a dot over the ‘i’ in Mitchell. She carefully stuck on her stamp upside down. Then she took a page and began to write.

  Dear Luke,

  I wouldn’t mind a granny living with me. Both of mine died years ago. I wouldn’t mind a brother either. If I had a brother, I’d like if he was called Zac. Or maybe Dylan.

  Dad’s feeling a bit better these days. The parents of the girl he saved came to visit last week, and that always cheers Dad up for a while.

  I’ve heard about the Beatles, but aren’t they all dead by now? I’ve never heard of Supertramp. Sounds like the big, tall old man who lives in a doorway near my school (ha ha). I like the sound of Breakfast in America. I had breakfast in Manchester this morning and it wasn’t much fun.

  Don’t worry that you didn’t understand about the gravy. Most people don’t. Mum might just have part of the book about the gravy. The rest might be about vegetables. She’s especially good with carrots. Do you like carrots?

  Anyway, I’ve told you about my family, so now I’m going to tell you about my best friend. Her name is Tara. She just moved to our school this year. She used to live in London. She’s really great fun. We sit next to each other at school.

  We do loads of stuff after school, too. Most weekends we have sleepovers in each other’s houses. This weekend it’s her turn to come to my house. We always have lots of sweets, and sometimes we make popcorn. Mum and Dad let us stay up late to watch a DVD. Snowball loves Tara, and usually when she sleeps over we sneak her up to my bedroom and she sleeps on Tara’s bed.

  Must go,

  Elma

  PS One last question. Why do you stick your stamps on upside down?

  LUKE

  Nobody at all phoned him, the week after he dropped in the leaflets. Nobody seemed interested in getting a proper car wash from a real human.

  The next Saturday he got his uncle Jack to drop him in town again, and he went into the newsagent’s.

  The same man was behind the counter. He looked up as Luke walked in. ‘Hey there.’

  ‘I’ve come to wash your car,’ said Luke, wondering if he remembered him. ‘I did it last week, and you said to come back.’

  ‘I did indeed,’ said the man. ‘She’s out the back, waiting for you.’

  As the man was paying him afterwards, Luke got an idea. ‘Can I put a notice in your window about car washing?’

  The man nodded. ‘No problem. And I’ll tell you what – if you’re looking for business, my wife’s car could do with a good wash. She’s out at the moment, but she’ll be here in about an hour, if you want to call back.’

  That evening, Luke got three phone calls. Two of them were from people who’d seen his notice in the newsagent’s window. The third was from Miss Lynch on the next street, who’d got his leaflet in her door the week before.

  The next day, he got two more calls.

  Over the next two weeks, he washed seven cars. He made thirty-five euro. With the thirty euro Jack gave him, he was only short seventy-four euro for the washing machine, and there was still nearly a month to go to Christmas.

  He might just make it.

  He spent most of his Sundays washing cars, but he didn’t mind. It gave him a reason not to be at home.

  Since the night she stayed out, Helen was forbidden to leave the house on school nights. Mam rang home three times on the evenings she was working late. When the phone rang, Helen waited for Granny to answer it and call up to her, and then she stamped down the stairs and spoke in a sulky voice to Mam.

  When Luke asked her if she’d ever heard of a pop star called Vanessa-Mae, Helen just ignored him. Nobody was allowed into her room. Sometimes when she passed Luke on the stairs, he smelt cigarettes. One morning he thought he heard her getting sick in the bathroom.

  She never smiled. He couldn’t remember what her smile looked like.

  ‘Did you know there’s more than one kind of gravy?’ he asked Granny one evening.

  She lifted her eyes from her book and thought. ‘Well, I suppose you can make it with the meat juices, or just use gravy powder and water,’ she said. ‘But it wouldn’t be very different really.’

  ‘Would you buy a cookery book that just had gravy recipes in it?’ Luke asked her.

  She looked at him in amusement. ‘I don’t think so. What’s brought all this on?’

  Luke shrugged. ‘Just something my penfriend said.’

  His mother dropped two eggs on the kitchen floor one evening. They slipped out of her hands as she was taking them out of the fridge. She looked at the mess on the floor and then she burst into tears. She put her head in her hands and bent over the sink and cried and cried.

  Luke put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Please don’t,’ he told her. ‘I’ll clean them up, it’s OK.’ Her body shook with crying. They were the only two in the kitchen. ‘Please, Mam,’ he said. ‘Please don’t cry.’

  He pulled two sheets off the roll of kitchen paper and gave them to her, and she dabbed her eyes and asked him what she’d do without him.

  The eggs were slimy and hard to clean up. Mam took the mop from him. ‘It’s OK, I’ll do it.’ Her face was blotchy and all around her eyes was red and damp. ‘Sorry, love – it’s just been a long day.’

  ‘Can’t you phone work and tell them you’re sick?’ he asked. It was one of her overtime nights.

  She shook her head. ‘There’s nobody there but me in the evenings – and anyway, we need the money. I’ll be OK.’ She’d started doing overtime after Luke’s father had his accident – three extra hours in the evening twice a week – doing whatever could be done without the customers there.

  ‘I’m saving up for a surprise for Mam,’ Luke told his father. ‘A big surprise.’

  His father looked at his reflection in the window. He rubbed his chin and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Luke asked him. ‘I’m getting a surprise for Mam.’

  His father turned to look at him. ‘Luke,’ he said. ‘Good boy.’ Then he turned back to the window and watched Luke’s mother getting into her car. His face didn’t change as he looked at her.

  Mrs Hutchinson suggested that they send Christmas cards to their penfriends. ‘I know there’s still a few weeks to go,’ she said, ‘but you won’t be writing again till after Christmas. It would be nice for a change, instead of your usual letters.’

  Luke looked through the cards in the newsagent’s shop on the way home from school. The cheapest he could find cost three euro. He decided Elma would be just as happy with a letter.

  He asked the woman in the post office if she had any special stamps for Christmas. She gave him one with a picture of a candle on it. It looked good upside down on the envelope, like a firework – or a rocket, just about to blast off.

  Luke wrote Elma’s name and school address. Then he turned the envelope around and drew a snowman on the flap. That was nearly as good as a card.

  He looked out
the window as he thought about what to write. Her last letter was pretty girly, with all that talk about sleepovers and stuff.

  He really wished she was a boy – and although she lived in Manchester, he bet she didn’t even follow Man United.

  But for a girl, he supposed she wasn’t too bad. He began to write.

  Dear Penfriend,

  Thanks for your last letter. I’ve got a new job washing cars. I charge five euro per car, and I’ve got lots of customers.

  Two of the Beatles are still alive. They are Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney. Dad says Paul McCartney was the best Beatle, but I think I prefer John Lennon. He was shot by a mad guy in New York years ago – my dad remembers hearing it on the radio. And George Harrison died of some disease like cancer or something.

  I never asked you if you support Man United. They’ve got a lot of fans over here, but I prefer Chelsea. They’re from London, so maybe your friend supports them. Tell her Tara is the name of the place where the high kings of Ireland lived long ago.

  I don’t know why I stick my stamps on upside down – I just did it for the laugh the first time, and then I stuck to it, ha ha. I notice you stuck the Queen on upside down on your last letter – I thought you’d get into trouble for that.

  You asked if I like carrots. They’re OK, I suppose, although I don’t know how you can be good with carrots, like you said your mam is. Don’t you just boil them until they’re soft? That’s what we do anyway. Sometimes my mam mashes them up with parsnips, which is OK too. My favourite vegetable is mushy peas. I’d eat them every day if I could.

  Must go – teatime,

  Luke

  PS Almost forgot – Happy Christmas.

  ELMA

  Elma walked slowly home from school, with Zac and Dylan trailing even more slowly after her. She gave a big, long, feeling-sorry-for-herself sigh. Two and a half weeks till Christmas, and what did she have to look forward to? A big fat nothing – that’s what.