This is Me

by Shari Low

  ‘Spiderman pants?’

  That made Jordy giggle. ‘Yup.’

  ‘Spiderman trainers?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘School uniform?’

  Jordy’s brown eyes glanced down at his grey shorts, grey socks, navy jumper with the school crest and pale blue polo shirt underneath. ‘Yup.’

  ‘Superpowers?’

  ‘Don’t have any.’

  ‘Oh. That’s a disappointment,’ she teased. ‘I wonder if I could trade you in for Iron Man. Anyway, tell me then, what must you do at all times?’

  ‘Put my hand up when I want to speak to the teacher, ask if I can go to the toilet before I’m bursting and try not to fart in class.’

  ‘I think my work here is done,’ she told him, tickling him and making him shriek with giggles. It sounded glib, but she was so far from nonchalant that she’d struggle to spell it. When Max had gone to school the year before, there had been tears and fears. But none of them belonged to the little guy who wandered in without a care in the world or a backward glance at his overwrought mother. Even then, though, she knew that Max would be fine. He was her bold one. Her sociable one. Her little guy who could round up five pals at a moment’s notice and turn any occasion into an opportunity to play ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’ and have a right good giggle.

  Jordy, though? He was her baby. Her little, sweet, shy guy, who was perfectly content in his own company and kept his feelings to himself. He was happy just to wander about with a football at his feet and ignore the rest of the world. For the last year, it had been just her and him, every day. Now he was going off to school and it was the end of an era – no more kids at home. She’d just lost her excuse for afternoon double bills of Avenger movies and weekly cupcakes.

  Jeanna groaned as she put her coffee down on the table. ‘Tell me you’re not crying. If you are, I’m calling Pathetic Parents Anonymous. You need help.’

  ‘Jordy, tell Auntie Jeanna to stop being mean or she’ll spend the next hour on the naughty step.’

  Jordy chuckled. ‘Auntie Jeanna, Mum says you’ve to…’

  He didn’t get any further before Jeanna scooped him up and performed a second bout of tickling, with the same ear piercing results.

  ‘Hey, put my nephew down right now,’ Doug demanded, as he swung in the back door. ‘Don’t worry, Jordy, I’ll save you from evil,’ he said, before grabbing Jeanna in a hug and giving her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  Jeanna dropped the five year old with a disgusted, ‘Eeeeeeew.’ It was absolutely the best tactic, given that her aversion to public displays of affection were legendary.

  Not for the first time, Claire thought how lucky she was to have them. Jeanna was like a sister, both to Doug and to her, and the three of them had gone through life as a team since they were fourteen years old.

  Jeanna gave Doug a twister on his arm in revenge, his howls prompting Claire to step in. ‘Eh, any chance you two could act like adults? I mean, I know it’s a long shot…’

  They all knew she didn’t mean it. On the contrary, she was beyond grateful that they’d both showed up for Jordy’s first day of school. Her parents were hopeless and completely disinterested in the boys. Sam’s parents had decided to up sticks and move to Spain to enjoy their early retirement, while his brothers had scattered to New York, London and Edinburgh. Doug and Jeanna, and her grandad Fred, were the only family they had left who were actively involved in the kids’ lives and she appreciated them beyond words. Her grandparents on her dad’s side had both passed away a few years before, Grampa Pete of a stroke and Granny Jenny of bowel cancer just a few months later. Both of them were gone much too young and she was sad about that, but she’d had little relationship with them. They’d barely spoken since she was a teenager and her gran had castigated her and Doug for moving in with Fred, telling them what a wonderful father Ray was and how he’d sacrificed so much for them. Such bullshit. But it didn’t take a psychologist to work out where Ray’s demand for 100 per cent devotion and unfailing adoration came from.

  Thank God Fred was still with them, although he was riddled with emphysema, a consequence of a twenty a day fag habit since he was about twelve. He loved to have them all over to visit twice a week and would read to the boys for hours. Fred still had a twinkle in his eye, the same one that his grandson Doug was trying to deploy now to get himself out of trouble.

  He also flashed that way too good looking smile of his. ‘Sorry, sis. It’s her – she’s a bad influence.’

  Jeanna’s response was cut short by Sam, who darted into the room in full suit, briefcase in one hand, mobile phone in the other, harassed look on his face.

  ‘My navy and silver tie,’ he blurted. ‘I can’t find it…’

  Claire cut him off by picking the missing tie up off the back of a kitchen chair where Sam had left it the night before and dangling it in front of him.

  Sam tried to smile, but she could see how flustered he was.

  Despite that, he high-fived Jordy. ‘Okay, tiger, are you ready?’

  ‘Ready,’ his son answered seriously.

  Claire’s heart squeezed just a little bit more. He was so small. So sweet. How could she throw him out into the big bad world?

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ Sam prompted and Claire’s hackles rose just a little. Here she was, trying to find ways of delaying the inevitable and all Sam wanted to do was get the show on the road. Traitor.

  Sam didn’t even notice her furrowed brow as he turned to her, ‘You’ve got the address and you’ll definitely be there at one o’clock?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll pick Jordy up from school and then Jeanna is going to watch him until we get back. I wouldn’t miss it.’

  It was just typical. On the same day as Jordy was starting school, Sam was getting an award from his company for the most successful advertising campaign they’d ever had. It was at a posh lunch in a swanky hotel and it was for… for… She couldn’t remember. He worked on so many projects and – much as she was embarrassed to admit it – she regularly tuned out when he was talking about work. It wasn’t entirely her fault. He’d come home every night around seven, when she was right in the middle of bath and story time. He’d join in and help, always happy to spend the last hour of their day with the kids, but by the time they got downstairs to make dinner and have a bit of adult only time, she was too knackered, or too busy planning the next day, to really give it her full attention.

  This happened to all couples with young kids though, didn’t it? Things got so busy that the time they had for each other dwindled to nothing. They’d survive. It was all just part of this time of their lives. It didn’t help that they were both busy with work too. Sam spent twelve hours a day at the office and Claire worked from home, her alterations and dressmaking service being the perfect role for her because she could combine it with bringing up the kids and work when they were in bed. An old pal, Carrie, from the flat she’d lived in when she was a student, had even asked her to create her wedding dress. Bridal wear had been her favourite area of design at college so she’d been thrilled to take on the job and Carrie had been delighted with the beautiful gown she’d made for her.

  ‘Can we speed it up a bit?’ Sam asked, leading the way.

  Claire took a couple more photographs to add to the 100 she’d already taken, then the four of them, plus Jordy and Max, walked the ten minutes to the school gate. As soon as they got there, Max galloped off to join his pals. Jordy stood next to her, Spiderman trainers flashing, arms around her leg.

  Decision time. Scoop him up and run off home with him, and keep him by her side until he was at least forty, or get a grip and ease him in gently. Reluctantly she went for the latter. ‘Right, tiger, there’s Mrs Minns over there. On you go and join her line.’

  The kids and parents had already visited the school for a one hour induction the week before, where they got to see the classroom and the desk the child would be sitting at. To avoid teary goodbyes inside, the procedure
on the first day was that they line up with their teacher, who took them inside with a quick wave back to the parents. In theory. Spiderman wasn’t for budging.

  ‘Right, buddy, on you go,’ Sam prompted, and Claire could see that much as he was trying to disguise it, he was keen to get off to the office. He’d usually been at his desk for two hours by now.

  It took much cajoling, gentle prising of the fingers and a beckoning from the teacher before Jordy – reluctantly and with tear filled eyes – slowly trudged the across the playground to join the rest of his class.

  Claire’s heart disintegrated into tiny pieces.

  ‘You’re not going over there to get him back,’ Jeanna hissed, reading her mind as always. ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘I won’t, though,’ Claire whimpered. ‘Look at him. He’s miserable. What kind of mother am I, sending him in there?’

  ‘One that knows that there’s this pesky thing called education?’ Doug offered.

  These two weren’t helping. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t even engaged in the moment.

  ‘Right, I’m off,’ he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and darting towards his car. He’d brought it here earlier this morning, when Claire made the point that they were all going to walk to school with Jordy, because they’d done the same with Max. Sam had driven the car to school, parked it and then jogged the ten minutes back to the house.

  Now, he was climbing into the front seat before she even had a chance to object.

  At the school doors, Jordy turned and gave a last wave, and that’s when Claire spotted one solitary tear running down his cheek. Her heart shattered yet again.

  Jeanna gently put her hand on Claire’s arm. ‘Steady there. You’re not going to be that mother who races over and snatches him back. He’ll never live it down and he’ll still be getting slagged for it in high school.’

  Claire glanced up again and saw he was gone.

  ‘Right, sis, I’m off.’ Doug said, giving her a hug.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ she told him, voice still choked with emotion.

  He scrunched up her hair, like he’d done since they were kids. ‘I’ve no idea where you got this maternal side from. Grampa Fred took me to school on my first day because Mum and Dad were in Torremolinos.’

  ‘Dad didn’t bother showing up to mine. Mum was miserable because he wasn’t there and barely said a word.”

  ‘Just another normal day then,’ Doug said, grinning. ‘It’s a miracle we turned out so fabulous.’

  ‘Completely fabulous,’ Claire parroted in her best posh voice, grateful that he was trying to divert her attention from the emotion of the occasion.

  Laughing, Doug hugged Jeanna, then he headed off at brisk walking pace to his own work. The high school started a day after the primary school, but this was an in-service day to help with preparations. He’d been teaching maths for four years now and loved it.

  ‘Right, come on then, hairdresser’s, make-up and then home to try on all the dazzling outfits I’ve brought for you,’ Jeanna said. ‘I’ve taken the whole day off…’

  ‘You got fired!’ Claire reminded her. It was true. Jeanna had been diplomatically ‘let go’ from her fourth job in the fashion department of a very upmarket store, for telling a customer – quite truthfully – that an outfit made her look like she was heading to the bingo on a cruise ship. She was now on the hunt for a role that required no tact whatsoever.

  ‘OK, so I’ve taken the whole day off from writing out job applications and dodging the scary woman at the job centre. So let’s go.’

  Claire had the same reluctance as Jordy trudging to that classroom line, but she went along with it. They headed to the salon Jeanna frequented on a weekly basis and Claire was immediately swarmed by a hairdresser, a junior assistant, a make-up artist and a nail technician. They pampered her, they preened her and they applied more make-up than she’d worn since her over-affection for eyeliner in the nineties.

  By eleven o’clock, Jeanna was perusing the results like a proud mama at a pageant. ‘Ah, it’s a miracle what make-up and a good hair cut can do. You’re stunning!’

  She clearly didn’t get the reaction to those comments that she expected. She reached over with her foot and spun Claire’s salon chair round to face her, causing Girt, the stylist, to eject setting spray into mid-air. He recovered, then after a flourish of mirror action and a promise that Claire would return monthly for a trim, bustled off to his next client.

  Like all good interrogators, Jeanna got straight to the point. ‘OK, so what’s with the doleful expression? You look better than you’ve done in years and yet you’re moping and putting a damper on my sunny disposition.’

  ‘I’m not moping, I’m fine. Great.’

  Jeanna wasn’t convinced. ‘Well, you’d better tell your face that because it appears to be under the impression that someone stole your last biscuit.’

  Claire spoke with minimal mouth movements so as not to crack her newly applied lip liner. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a bit preoccupied because I’m worried about Jordy. Do you think he’s OK?’

  Jeanna rolled her eyes. ‘I think he’s having a blast! He’s probably on top of a desk leading the whole class in a rap sing-off.’

  ‘He doesn’t know any rap songs.’ Claire countered, labelling the notion as ridiculous.

  ‘Eh, I might have taught him one,’ Jeanna confessed. ‘But don’t worry – it only mentions tits once and if he says it fast the teacher will never notice.’

  Despite herself, Claire cackled with hilarity. ‘Oh God, expelled on his first day. I’m going to have to make the kids wear earmuffs when they’re around you. Right, come on, let’s head back to the house before you tell me you also taught him to shoplift and operate a can of spray paint.’

  She quickly checked herself one last time in the mirror. They’d done a great job, making her look more polished and pretty much unrecognisable as the knackered, anxious mother of two infants who’d walked in less than two hours ago.

  Stretching out of the chair, she hugged Jeanna. ‘Thanks, luvly. I feel so much better and Sam is going to love the new me.’ She checked her watch. ‘Right, if we jump on the bus, we’ll be home in ten minutes and that gives me over an hour to throw on a dress and get back out the door.’

  Jeanna went along with it, although Claire knew her friend was more of a taxi than a bus kind of chick. To her credit, she didn’t moan once. Or if she did, Claire was too preoccupied to notice. Was he OK? Was he sad? Missing her?

  They were one stop from the house when Claire realised they were round the corner from the school. In a flash, she was up and off the bus.

  Jeanna came staggering after her. ‘Fuck! Could you give me some warning when you need me to run in heels? I nearly ended myself there.’

  Claire wasn’t paying attention. She moved like an Olympic speed walker, reaching the school gate in about a minute and a half. Jeanna was ten feet behind her the whole time, only catching up when Claire finally stopped.

  ‘What are we doing here, you mad woman?’ Jeanna panted.

  ‘I just need to know that he’s OK. That’s all. I don’t even need to speak to him, but I just can’t stand the thought of him in there, breaking his heart, and I’m not there for him.’

  Jeanna shook her head. ‘You’ve lost the plot. Seriously. So what, you’re going to go in there and ask if your primary one son is settling in and happy? They won’t put a big “neurotic” tick against your name. Nope, not at all.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Claire retorted, in response to the sarcasm. She didn’t. She’d spent her whole childhood feeling like – apart from Doug – she was on her own. There was never anyone there to talk to, to comfort her, to give her a hug when she was worried. She’d be damned if her sons would feel that fear or loneliness for a single second. ‘Sod it,’ she said, before taking off through the gate.

  ‘Oh bollocks,’ Jeanna cursed, limping after her.

  Claire didn’t head to the front door. Sh
e knew what class Jordy was in, the one to the left of reception. If she could just glimpse him through the window, see that he was OK, then she’d be fine. She’d go home, have a cup of tea and listen to Jeanna casting this up until the end of time.

  She crept towards the building, touched the wall, pressed her face was against the window, her eyes scanning the room, until… There he was! He was sitting at a table of four, drawing a picture. No tears. No snot. No visible signs of trauma.

  ‘Mrs Bradley?’

  To quote Jeanna, ‘Oh bollocks.’

  She slowly turned to see Mrs Thompson, the headmistress, hanging out of the next window along. She must have seen her doing her sprint across the playground. And by the looks of things, she wasn’t hanging out of her window to invite her to join the mums’ race on sports day.

  ‘Would you like to come round to my office?’ The words formed a question, but her tone made it clear that there was only one answer.

  ‘I preferred it when it was me who got us in trouble with the headmistress,’ Jeanna whispered, walking with her to the door. Jeanna spent most of high school in detention for something, often landing Claire in it too.

  Now the roles were reversed, Jeanna seemed to find this hilarious. Claire not so much.

  An hour later, after a firm lecture from the headmistress about boundaries, policies and acceptable (or non-acceptable) standards of behaviour, Claire and Jeanna were back out at the school gate. The primary one kids finished at twelve for the first week, while the rest of the school, Max included, stayed until three. Seconds after the shrill of the bell, they watched Jordy and his classmates run towards them.

  ‘Well, Spiderman, how was it?’ she asked, trying desperately to mask the tension in her voice.

  Her beautiful little guy shrugged. ‘It was OK. I wanted to come home, but the teacher said I couldn’t.’

  For the third time that morning, her heart crumbled.

  ‘Hold it together, pal,’ Jeanna warned her.

  Claire forced a smile on to her face. ‘Och, that’s just because it’s the first day,’ she said jovially. ‘I promise you’ll love it more and more each day until you won’t even want to come home when the bell rings!’