Violet Ink

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Violet Ink Page 17

by Rebecca Westcott


  Charlie’s mum isn’t helping at all. Last week she sent him a prospectus for the university that he’d got a place at. What was the point of doing that? We missed our A levels when we came here – he can’t go to uni now, can he? She wrote him a letter too and he wouldn’t let me read it, but I snuck a peek over his shoulder and saw that she’d written something about it ‘not being too late’. I don’t understand why she’d write that. Even if he did retake the exams, the baby is still going to be here. It’s still going to need looking after. He’s still going to be a dad, whether he likes it or not.

  Sometimes I wish more than anything that I could sit down with you at our table in the kitchen and talk to you about everything. I’ve got a million questions to ask you – things about how I’m feeling and giving birth and the baby. Things that I don’t know how to say in French. Even if I did I haven’t got anyone here who I could ask, not even if my French was fluent.

  I know that I really hurt you a lot when I left without telling you what was going on. I’m really grateful that you phone every week, but it’s impossible to talk to you properly and I miss you. I expect you’d like to be around when your first grandchild is born, wouldn’t you? Even if you are still mad at me. Even though you’d have wished for a different situation, I know you’ll love our baby.

  I feel it moving all the time now – it’s really exciting and I wish I hadn’t cut you out of all of this. Charlie is trying hard, but our room is tiny and I’ve got nobody else to talk to and we never have anything new to tell each other because nothing ever happens here. I spend most days cleaning and tidying our room (which doesn’t take long) and when Charlie gets back I want to talk, but he’s really tired and just wants to sleep.

  Anyway, don’t worry about me – I’m probably just in a grouchy mood. Charlie would say it’s the hormones talking. (I don’t think he’s quite worked out that I want to push him in the river when he says stuff like that to me. He’ll learn!) The weather is rubbish too and my suntan has completely washed off.

  I just can’t talk to you properly on the phone – I’m sorry if I sound distant. I feel a long way away from you right now and it’s making me homesick.

  Love you forever,

  Alex xxxx

  PS I saw the doctor again and he said the baby is definitely due at the end of November. So it’ll be here for Christmas!!!

  Red-letter Day

  Dear Mum,

  Thank you, thank you, thank you for your letter! I cried when I read it, which made Charlie really worried that something bad had happened! He was really pleased too when I told him what you’d written and says a big thank you! I keep rereading your letter to check it’s really true!

  I can’t believe you’re letting us come home! We can make my room into the perfect place for the baby and us. I know you said it’ll be a bit squashed but, honestly, it’s probably the same size as our whole teeny chalet here! I’m so excited that you’re going to be there to help me. I’ve missed you and Izzy SO MUCH the last few months. Your letter came at the perfect time. Monique has been having loads of chats with me about how hard it’d be for me to have the baby in Switzerland, and Charlie’s mum keeps phoning him and I don’t know what she says, Mum, but he’s always a bit fed up or sad or mad at me when he gets off the phone. I’ve been really starting to think that we made a mistake running away.

  Thank you for forgiving me. (I’m guessing that you HAVE forgiven me or you wouldn’t be letting me come home, would you?) I promise things will be different when I’m back. I’m different now – I’ve had to be. My baby needs a proper mum, not someone who can’t even look after herself.

  Charlie is going to get a job the minute we get back. We’ll pay our way for food and things for the baby so you don’t need to worry about that. We’re both so grateful to you. It’s going to make everything totally perfect and I can really start to look forward to this baby instead of feeling scared.

  I’m going to be with you and Izzy in two weeks – hurray!!!!! I’m going to forget the cost and phone you up RIGHT NOW so we can make plans!!

  Love you forever,

  Alex and Charlie and Bump xxxxx

  I am SO excited that Alex is coming home to live! It’s going to be fantastic – just like it used to be. I’m pretty glad that we can start to get back to normal too because this year has been totally rubbish. I like it when you know what’s going to happen, when the only surprises are nice surprises, but this year hasn’t been like that at all.

  I’m sitting in our den and relaxing. Mum and I have been working for hours today, painting Alex’s room. Mum said it needed doing and if there’s going to be a baby in there then it should be fresh and clean. We packed up all Alex’s stuff and put it neatly in boxes in the bottom of the wardrobe. I don’t know how she’s going to manage sharing a room with Charlie and a baby, but I suppose babies are quite small so it probably won’t take up much space, and Charlie’s a boy so he probably doesn’t have a lot of clothes and stuff.

  Mum told me not to tell anyone what I’d heard Marianne saying that day in our kitchen, about Charlie going off to university while Alex looks after the baby. She said that Alex and Charlie needed to have a fresh start and a chance to make their own decisions, and that we needed to support them, but not choose for them. Then she muttered darkly about not everybody understanding that, but she didn’t seem to want me to answer her so I pretended I hadn’t heard.

  I haven’t told Hannah or anyone else that Alex is coming home. I don’t want there to be a big fuss or anything so I’m just hoping that people will have forgotten what happened last term and not go on about it. We can just go back to normal.

  If I peer through the branches of the fir tree, I can see Mum hanging out the washing on the line. She’s been a lot happier since she told Alex that they could all live here with us. We’ve talked about it loads; Mum said that I had to be honest about how I felt about sharing our house with Charlie and a baby. I thought about it really hard, but I just don’t think it’s going to make much difference. Charlie will be out at work and he’s so quiet that I don’t think I’ll notice when he IS here. And a baby isn’t going to affect me very much. It won’t be able to walk or talk or do anything at all really. Mum said that it will cry, but I’m sure tiny babies can’t make that much noise and I can always close my bedroom door if it cries when I’m trying to sleep.

  I think this is a new start for all of us. It’s going to be totally fine.

  Red Alert

  I’m walking home in the pouring rain and the weather totally matches my mood. Although it’s raining, I’m taking my time, even though I could bump into the nasty boys from school at any moment. It turns out that they hadn’t forgotten about me after all – or maybe they had and all the drama with Alex reminded them about me again. Even though it’s now October, the walk home from school is fraught with danger, knowing they could leap out and start making foul comments at any moment. They’re getting braver too; last week one of them grabbed my arm when I walked past and hissed something awful into my ear.

  But still I’m not desperate to get back to the house. Alex is back, although nobody would ever recognize her as the same Alex who left.

  I can’t believe that I thought things would go back to normal when she came home. For starters she looks completely different. I couldn’t stop staring at her stomach when she got out of the car. Mum and Charlie carried in all their bags and she just carried herself; she walked up our garden path with one hand on her back and this HUGE stomach jutting out in front of her. I was surprised that she didn’t topple face first into the flower beds. She was wearing a long lavender-coloured tunic top and it’s one of the first times that I’ve totally struggled to match a colour to the person. Lavender represents grace and elegance and those words definitely can’t be used to describe Alex right now.

  She shrieked my name when she saw me at the front door and staggered towards me and honestly, for a split second, I wanted to turn and run upstairs and hide under
the bed – because even if she knew where I was there is NO WAY on this earth that she could squeeze under there with me. But then I saw her face and it was just Alex and I felt bad. So I ran down the path and gave her a hug and it felt weird hugging her when I couldn’t reach past her massive stomach.

  They call the baby ‘Bump’, but I think that’s utterly ridiculous. It’s like calling Mount Everest a hill. Alex keeps stroking her stomach and talking to it like it can actually understand her. She tried to make me say hello to it the other day, but I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t say hello to her arm or her leg, would I? I don’t see how it’s any different.

  It was my thirteenth birthday a week after they got back and I thought having Alex home would be the best present ever. I was wrong. Just as I was about to blow out the candles on my cake, she started squealing that the baby was kicking and Mum and Charlie and Granny raced to be the first to put their hands on her stomach, while Grandpa started chanting ‘baby, baby, baby’ and hitting the kitchen table in time to his chant. I blew out the candles and made a wish. I wished that this stupid baby had decided to get born to some other family. When Mum asked though, I told her I’d wished for a proper music stand because I’d already seen it wrapped up in the living room. At least Mum felt happy on my birthday.

  ‘Izzy!’ I tense up when someone shouts my name, ready to start running. ‘IZZY!’

  The voice sounds familiar though so I risk squinting through the rain to see who it is and see Finn running up behind me. ‘What planet were you on? I’ve been yelling at you for ages!’

  I laugh as he bends over and rests his hands on his knees. ‘I thought your new job on the building site was supposed to be keeping you fit?’ I ask him.

  ‘Cheeky!’ he says. ‘You might beat me in a race, but I reckon I could dig a trench quicker than you.’

  I shrug at him. ‘So what? Not a lot of call for trench-digging around here, in case you hadn’t noticed!’

  Finn mock-glares at me. ‘Fine. Show me what you’ve got then.’

  I look at him for a moment and then grin. He might be stronger than me, but I’m smaller than him – and small equals fast. Racing Finn suddenly seems like the perfect way to end today. I look across the road and point and the second that his attention is distracted I bolt, racing away from him down the pavement.

  My school bag is banging against my side as I sprint down the road, Finn close behind me. Leaping a muddy puddle, I land safely on the other side and start sniggering as I hear Finn charge straight through it and curse as dirty water splashes up his legs. I decide to detour through the park and swing left between the gates. It’s totally deserted in this weather and I find my pace, starting to enjoy the sensation of running in the rain. The water flowing down my face is refreshing. It feels like freedom.

  Finn is next to me now and I glance at him and smile. He’s forgotten that he was meant to be racing me and is enjoying the running as much as I am. Together we dodge puddles and the occasional hard-core dog-walker and run as fast as we can. By the time we come up our road, I’m puffing and panting, all thoughts of my weird, uneasy house pushed away.

  I beckon Finn to follow me as I turn up our drive and together we bundle in through the front door, laughing and yelling and dripping water everywhere.

  ‘Still reckon I’m horribly unfit?’ puffs Finn, gasping for breath, but I’m too exhausted to reply. I drop my bag on the floor and start to unzip my coat.

  ‘Hello there,’ says Alex from the kitchen doorway. I look up, but she isn’t talking to me. Finn shakes his head like a wet dog and drops of water fly off in every direction. Alex grins and disappears into the kitchen, returning a second later with a towel.

  ‘Look at the state of you,’ she says to Finn and hands him the towel. I stand there for a moment, drenching the hallway floor, until I realize that she has no intention of getting ME a towel. She’ll be sorry if I get pneumonia and am too ill to babysit for her.

  Finn takes the towel and dries his face. Then he looks at Alex, looks at all of her from her toes to her head.

  ‘Look at the state of YOU,’ he tells her and I freeze, waiting for Alex to bawl him out. But instead she just smiles and looks a bit shy.

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘I look awful. I’m probably the fattest person in this whole town.’

  ‘You don’t look awful. You look different. It’s kind of amazing really – there’s a real, live person living in there!’

  It’s not THAT amazing, I think to myself. And the baby isn’t a proper person yet anyway. It doesn’t know any words so it can’t have any thoughts, not like we do. All it does all day is sleep and swim about and eat – and it doesn’t even do that like a normal person. I don’t know why people get so excited about babies; we’ve all been one so it’s not like it’s a special achievement or anything.

  I’m starting to shiver and, as Alex is now completely absorbed in conversation with Finn about Switzerland and babies and his new job working for his dad as a builder and other totally boring things, I take off my wet shoes and go upstairs to get changed.

  By the time I’ve dried off and come back down, Finn and Alex are sitting at the kitchen table, still talking. I grab a biscuit and have just started to make a drink when the back door opens and Mum rushes in.

  ‘Disgusting weather out there today. Did you get home before the rain started, Izzy?’ she says and then she spots Finn. ‘Well, hello! Good to see you sitting at my table.’

  Finn gets up and gives Mum a hug. She’s surprised, but I can tell she’s really pleased.

  ‘I haven’t done any baking, if that’s what you’re after!’ she tells him.

  ‘Oh, I might as well go home then,’ he says, but Alex laughs and grabs his arm.

  ‘Not a chance! We’ve got loads of catching up to do. You’re not leaving here for hours yet, so just accept it and settle yourself down!’

  Finn has got a funny look on his face – sort of worried and sort of massively delighted. He sits back down at the table and picks up his cup of dark, strong tea that Alex has made him.

  ‘What time will Charlie be back?’ he asks, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. I realize that he doesn’t want to see Charlie and I think Mum knows it too because she squeezes Finn’s shoulder as she walks past on her way to the fridge.

  ‘Oh, not for ages and ages yet,’ says Alex, sounding breezy. Finn looks at her suspiciously, but he doesn’t need to worry – Alex doesn’t seem that bothered about Charlie these days. ‘He’ll go home to his parents for supper and he said he might stay the night there. He does sometimes; it’s just a bit easier that way.’

  I look at Mum in surprise, but she shakes her head at me very slightly and I remember that she said it all had to be their choice. That suits me perfectly. I’ve had enough of my sister’s dramas to last me a decade.

  ‘Anyway,’ continues Alex, ‘that means that there’s no reason you can’t stay for supper and tell me all about the band and what you’ve been up to and WHY you didn’t write to me the whole time I was away!’

  Finn goes a bit red at this, but Alex is still grinning so I guess she isn’t that mad at him.

  ‘Ooh – I nearly forgot,’ says Mum. ‘Look what I bought today!’ She goes to her bag and takes out a neatly wrapped package. She hands it to Alex who puts it on the table and carefully unwraps it.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ she gasps and I crane my neck to see what it is. I’m disappointed though because, instead of a chunky necklace or a funky vest top or a new scented candle, Alex has spread out a tiny piece of material on the table. It’s hard to work out what it actually is for a moment other than it has red and white stripes. A weird colour combination of danger and energy and peace. Then Alex picks it up and I see that it’s a hat.

  ‘The baby will need to be wrapped up warm – it’s going to be winter when it’s born,’ says Mum. ‘We’ll get lots of basic hats and blankets, but I really couldn’t resist this and it’s good for a girl or a boy.’

  Finn reach
es out and Alex puts the tiny hat into his large, upturned hand. He looks at it in awe and I leave the kitchen in quiet disgust. I was so happy to have Finn back in our lives, but not if I have to share him with the baby. As I stomp upstairs, I can hear them laughing and talking about whether they think it’s a boy or a girl and how there’s only six weeks to go, and a very bad feeling comes over me. I look at my mood ring and see that it has turned red. Danger is on its way. This baby is bad news.

  In the Pink

  The Bad-News-Baby is completely dominating every second of every day. Quite an achievement for someone who hasn’t even been born yet. Mum has started racing home from work to check on Alex and Alex told me that she even phones during her lunch hour, just to make sure everything’s OK. There are still four whole weeks to go until it arrives, but there’s more preparation going on here than there would be if we were preparing for battle.

  Even Charlie is starting to realize that something is about to happen. I heard him and Alex having a long talk in her room two weeks ago. Alex cried quite a lot and said that he wasn’t being fair, that this baby deserved to have two parents who loved it, and that she didn’t get pregnant all on her own so why should he expect her to bring it up all on her own? I don’t know what Charlie said to that because I suddenly decided that it was time to stop eavesdropping and sneaking around. That actually, maybe, I don’t need to know absolutely everything that’s going on around here. From now on I’m going to trust Mum to tell me stuff on a need-to-know basis. And I really don’t need to know what’s going on between Alex and Charlie.

 

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