Sara shrugs. ‘Well, it’s your choice.’ She leans forward and kisses Alex – a peck on each cheek like French people do. Then she turns and walks towards the door. ‘Text me if you change your mind – you know my number.’
‘Thanks for coming, Sara,’ says Alex, opening the living-room door and guiding her out into the hall.
‘Well, I won’t see you for ages now,’ I hear Sara say. ‘I’m at uni the day after tomorrow and I won’t be coming back to this dive of a town until it’s absolutely necessary. You should think about going to uni, Alex – it’s fantastic! I could tell you stories that you wouldn’t believe!’
Alex mutters something that I can’t hear and then the front door opens.
‘Ciao!’ calls Sara.
‘Bye,’ says Alex and then she slams the door closed and comes back into the living room, flopping down on the sofa. ‘I can’t remember why we were ever friends,’ she says. ‘She’s changed so much since we left school.’
I look down at Bad-News. ‘You’ve changed too,’ I tell Alex. ‘You’re always busy with the baby now. I hardly ever get to talk to you!’
‘That’s not true,’ says Alex and her voice sounds hurt. ‘We talk loads.’
‘Yeah, about the baby and how you’re feeling and gory details about giving birth that I don’t want to hear,’ I tell her. ‘We don’t talk about anything actually important. I can’t tell you about things like I used to.’
I don’t know why I’m saying this to Alex right now. I can see that she’s upset by Sara’s visit and that I should probably be making her a cup of tea and offering to look after the baby or something. But I just want the old Alex back – MY Alex who was annoying and noisy and frustrating, but who was always there for me if I needed her.
Alex runs her hand over her face and looks at me. ‘I’m sorry you don’t think my baby is important,’ she says in a very quiet voice.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ I say, but I’m too late: the damage has been done.
‘It’s EXACTLY what you meant!’ cries Alex, and then she swears at me under her breath, but I still hear her. ‘I’ve got enough to worry about without you telling me that I’m not being a good enough sister. News flash, Izzy – I’m worried stupid that I’m not going to be a good enough mum, so being there for you right now is fairly low down on my list of priorities! I love this baby MORE THAN ANYTHING and I’ve got to get this right!’
I stare at her in shock. I didn’t really mean it. I know Alex loves her baby, but I didn’t think that actually meant that she didn’t love me any more. I was just feeling a bit narky that we never get time to chat, that every single thing is about Bad-News. And she’s just told me that I’m not important at all. The baby has completely replaced me. Alex hasn’t got room for me.
Izzy
My sister looks just the same as always,
but really she’s changed.
The space inside her heart that she kept for
me
has been invaded, taken over,
and I have been evicted.
She’s got no time to
talk
listen
laugh with me
any more.
Now it’s all
nappies
milk
blankets and
sleep.
The baby is triumphant, victorious.
Ruler of all things,
like a tiny queen of the world.
Like the tiny queen of Alex’s world.
Now, when the aggro boys make
rude comments
that make my legs tingle
and my ears buzz,
there are no footsteps
behind me.
No supporter, protector, defender,
just me and them.
If I try to ignore them like Mum told me,
it just makes them
worse,
baiting,
waiting
for a reaction.
If I shout back at them like Alex told me,
it just makes them
cry with laughter,
doubled-over, knee-grabbing howls.
If I cry, if I let the tears bubble out,
it just annoys them,
embarrasses them,
scares them,
and they mutter dark threats about
what they will do to me if I
make a complaint.
I don’t bother telling Alex.
She wouldn’t be able to
hear me anyway.
She is deafened
by the sounds of
cooing
crying
gurgling.
She is blinded
by the sight of
tiny fingers and toes and a
sticky-out tummy button.
Her ears and eyes belong only to
the baby.
Love Is Golden
I had planned to keep well out of the way of the baby after our argument, but then Alex had a bit of a meltdown and spent two whole days sobbing. Mum told me that she’s just exhausted and overwhelmed and Sara coming over didn’t help. She said that it would pass, but that we needed to help Alex rest so that she could look after the baby properly. I felt really guilty. Mum doesn’t know anything about the argument and, even though Alex tried to call me back that day, I ignored her and ran out of the room crying. Part of me wanted her to see what it feels like when you’re left all on your own.
But I didn’t want to make her that upset. I still love her even if she doesn’t love me any more. So we’ve developed a bit of a routine. When I get home from school, Alex has just finished feeding the baby so she puts her in a bouncy chair and I watch her in the kitchen while I do my homework. Alex has a little sleep and then, when Mum gets home, I wake Alex up and we all juggle making the supper and looking after the baby and doing our schoolwork.
The first time I was on my own with Bad-News I was quite terrified. She slept most of the time though and I started to relax a bit. Even so, it’s quite hard to get any homework done because she’s started sucking her fingers when she’s asleep and she looks so gorgeous – it’s quite distracting. I’m still determined not to fall for her charms; she’s pretty good at being a cute baby, but I’m not fooled: she’s probably planning world domination behind those long, flickering eyelashes.
I’ve looked forward to today all week. Charlie is leaving work early and taking Alex and Bad-News over to visit his parents. No crying or screaming or pooing for a whole two hours. As I walk up the front path and put my key in the door, I think about how much work I’m going to get done. In complete and utter peace and quiet.
I open the front door and step inside, calling ‘hello’ just in case their plans have changed and Bad-News is waiting somewhere to leap out at me. But the house is silent and I feel a shiver of something unusual flood through me. I put my shoes neatly in the corner and walk into the kitchen, trying to shake off the odd feeling that is everywhere. Bad-News’s bouncy chair is by the back door and it looks strange without her in it. I go to put the kettle on and see her bottle next to the sink. I am completely unprepared for the panic that follows: what if Alex forgot to take any milk? I look at the clock. Bad-News will be starving by now. I pace the kitchen, unsure what to do until I realize that I can’t do anything.
I make a drink and get out my homework, but it isn’t the same without my foot bouncing the chair up and down. I consider putting her chair next to me anyway, but decide that would be just too weird. I try for a few more minutes, but my attention isn’t there. All I can think about is whether Bad-News is hungry and if Charlie’s parents are being nice to her or treating her like a ‘blip’ – that’s what Charlie’s mum said that day in our kitchen.
By the time I hear Charlie’s car pull up on the road, I’ve virtually worn out the carpet in front of the living room window. I make myself wait while Alex gets out of the car and Charlie unstraps the car seat, and then I watch as Alex waves
goodbye to Charlie and walks up the front path. Then I run to the front door and yank it open, grabbing the car seat out of her hands and putting it down on the hallway floor.
‘Steady!’ laughs Alex. ‘You’re keen today.’
I undo the straps and gently lift Bad-News out of her seat, looking at her carefully.
‘Have you fed her?’ I demand.
‘Er – yes, Izzy,’ says Alex, shrugging herself out of her coat.
‘And were they nice to her?’ I ask, snuggling her next to me and sniffing her head. It turns out that they knew what they were talking about. Bad-News’s head smells way better than any shampoo ever could.
‘They loved her,’ says Alex, crouching down next to me. ‘What’s wrong, Izzy? I thought she was just a bit of a nuisance to you?’
I rest Bad-News on my knees and put my hands over her ears, glaring at Alex.
‘Don’t say things like that in front of her!’ I say. ‘You’ll make her feel sad. She IS a little bit of a nuisance, but she’s our nuisance.’ I look at Bad-News and feel a surge of love running through my body. I will never, ever let anything happen to this baby, even if she is a complete pain and noisy and actually quite smelly.
‘I missed you,’ I whisper and I’m not sure if I’m talking to Alex or Bad-News or maybe both.
Alex puts her arm round me and we sit on the floor together, looking at the scrunched-up face in front of us.
‘We missed you too, Izzy,’ Alex whispers back. ‘I can’t do this without you. I could start saying sorry for all the things I’ve got wrong, but if I do I’ll still be saying sorry when I’m an old lady.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ I tell her. She laughs.
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for! I just need you to promise me one thing.’
‘Anything,’ I say, looking up at her and holding Bad-News tight.
‘Even when I’m being a cow, don’t forget that I love you. Forever.’
I should feel happy, but I don’t. I look down at Bad-News again and think about how to ask Alex the question that’s been bothering me for a while.
‘What about the baby? You told me that you love her more than anything. It’s OK – I understand if you love her more than me. She is pretty special.’
Alex pulls me closer to her. ‘I DO love her more than anything. But she hasn’t taken any of the love I have for you away, Izzy. It’s totally different. You’re YOU, Izzy – the most amazing, unique, precious and special little sister in the universe. I love you for being YOU just like I love her for being HER! And I love you both more than anything, just in different ways.’
I think about that for a moment. And, actually, that makes some kind of sense. Life is different now, but if different means having Alex AND Bad-News to love then different is OK. I think I like different.
A Golden Opportunity
We’re sitting having supper and Mum is putting her foot down. This conversation has been going on for weeks and she’s had enough.
‘She’s four weeks old!’ she says to Alex. ‘She needs a name.’
‘Your mum’s right,’ says Finn, shovelling a forkful of peas into his mouth and earning himself a smile from Mum. ‘We can’t just keep on calling her “Baby” all the time.’
I say nothing. Bad-News and I have come to an understanding over the last few weeks. I’ll look out for her and keep her safe, and be there to rescue her when Mum and Alex are being grown-up and boring and won’t let her do anything cool – and she’ll make a real effort to stop being such a drama queen and screaming the place down just because she’s a bit bored or has a wet nappy. I think it’s going to work out for the two of us. And I’ve kind of got used to calling her ‘Bad-News’ too – I think it suits her. My mood ring has been brown for days now and I know that our home is the right place for Alex and Bad-News to be, safe here with us. There’s a lot to be said for brown: it’s safe and comforting.
‘You and Charlie have got to register her birth by the time she’s six weeks old anyway,’ Mum continues. ‘You need to choose a name, Alex. It’s not fair on the poor child.’
Alex groans and looks at Finn for support, but he just shrugs at her and keeps eating. He still spends most of his spare time at our house; it almost feels like Bad-News brought Finn back to us.
‘Fine,’ says Alex theatrically. ‘It’s just such a big responsibility. I want to get it right.’
‘Of course you do,’ says Mum, trying (and failing) to sound sympathetic. ‘But you’ve had a while to think about it. Didn’t you and Charlie talk about baby names when you were in Switzerland?’
Alex grimaces. ‘Seriously, Mum, you do NOT want to hear his suggestions! Poor kid will be a laughing stock if he gets to name her.’
‘All the same,’ says Mum, standing up, ‘he’s her dad and you need to make this decision together.’
Mum starts to stack up the supper plates and Finn gets up to help her. Bad-News is squawking in her chair so I go over and pick her up and bring her back to the table.
‘What do you want to be called?’ I ask her.
‘Why don’t we all make a list of suggestions?’ says Mum, turning to look at Alex. ‘Tell Charlie and invite him here for supper tomorrow night. Let’s have a naming party and get this sorted once and for all.’
Alex looks worried.
‘I suppose we could,’ she says. ‘But I’ve got very firm ideas about what I want her name to represent.’
‘I’m sure you have, darling,’ mutters Mum and I see Finn trying not to grin. ‘Well, tell us what you want and we’ll all get together tomorrow and choose her name.’
‘OK,’ says Alex, sitting up straight and ticking off each point she makes on her fingers. ‘Well, she’s definitely going to be creative so I want a name that represents imagination and creativity. And life isn’t always easy so I want her to be brave – she needs to have courage.’
‘That’s lovely,’ says Mum, looking a bit pale, but Alex hasn’t finished.
‘She’s unique, one of a kind, so we need to choose something that demonstrates those qualities. And she’ll definitely be independent: she knows her own mind already so her name must help her to always remember how strong she is and to trust in herself.’
‘This is reminding me of that bit in Sleeping Beauty when the fairies all give Princess Aurora different gifts like being beautiful and good at singing,’ I say. Alex scowls at me, but Finn bursts out laughing and Mum looks like it’s taking all her effort not to join in. I grin and hug Bad-News closer to me.
‘And lastly,’ says Alex loudly, making sure she has everyone’s attention, ‘her name must mean that she’s always loved and reaches her full potential in life. And she must always, always be happy!’
Alex sinks back into her chair. Mum wipes her hands on a tea towel and clears her throat.
‘You don’t think that’s quite a lot to ask from a name?’ she asks Alex gently. ‘Your name means “defender or protector” and I’ve always loved that, but you’re so much more than just the meaning of your name. Don’t you think you should choose a name that you and Charlie both like and that suits the baby?’
We all turn to look at Bad-News who chooses this moment to sneeze, screwing her face up hard and making herself look utterly ridiculous.
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ groans Alex. ‘Maybe you’re right. Just find some names and we’ll choose tomorrow. You’ll come, right?’ She says this last bit to Finn who looks startled but pleased.
‘If you want me to,’ he says.
‘Well, you’re virtually part of the family which means you’re part of her family – so you can come as long as you bring a list of names,’ Alex tells him.
‘No problem!’ says Finn, his eyes lighting up and, as soon as the washing up is done, he says goodbye and heads home, and I know he’s going to spend hours trying to think of the perfect name for Bad-News.
Alex goes to phone Charlie and tell him the plan and I cuddle the baby for a little while longer, wondering what name I wou
ld give her if I had the choice. I think about Alex’s crazy list of qualities and suddenly I know. I look at Bad-News and can see immediately that it would suit her completely brilliantly.
When Alex comes back into the kitchen, she takes the baby and I go upstairs to find a piece of paper and my old set of paints.
Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining
‘We are gathered here today –’ says Finn in a serious voice, and Alex elbows him in the ribs.
‘This is no laughing matter, Finn,’ she scolds him. ‘We’re about to decide the name for my daughter – sorry, OUR daughter.’ She looks at Charlie here, but he just smiles at her. Things seem to be OK with them. He comes to visit when he can and when he starts university next year he says that he’ll keep in touch in the holidays. Alex doesn’t seem to mind. I think she’s glad that they aren’t always fighting any more.
‘Sorry,’ says Finn, and gets his piece of paper out of his back pocket.
We’ve eaten supper and cleared the table and Bad-News is snoozing in Grandpa’s arms. When he’s around, the rest of us have no chance of cuddling her; it seems to make him feel calm and he hasn’t wandered off once since she was born.
Granny leans forward and picks up her cup of tea.
‘Oh, look at the little dear,’ she says. ‘She’s totally unaware that her future is about to be decided by you lot. Poor little lamb!’
‘Yes, thank you, Granny,’ says Alex. Granny grins; she never lets Alex get away with being too uppity.
‘Right then, who wants to go first?’ Alex demands. She has appointed herself chairperson of this meeting and hasn’t made a list of her own. We’re all suddenly a bit scared: Alex has high expectations and her list of requirements was quite demanding. Nobody wants to be the first to make their suggestions.
‘How about you go first, Charlie?’ says Mum. She tries to make it sound as if she’s being kind, but I know better and look down at the table so that nobody sees me grin. Charlie looks at his list a bit uncomfortably and then rattles off four names so fast that I can barely understand them.
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