Summer of no Regrets

by Kate Mallinder

  ‘Think that’s pretty much it.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much for showing me around. Now when I am miles away, I can picture where you are and perhaps imagine what you might be doing.’

  ‘You think about me?’ Somehow, I hadn’t really thought about it.

  ‘More than you know,’ said Dad. ‘I miss seeing you.’

  ‘I miss seeing you too.’

  We sat in silence for minute or so. A boat came chugging up the estuary and manoeuvred onto a waiting trailer before being hauled, dripping, from the water.

  ‘I know you are not little anymore,’ Dad said, ‘and that you have more sophisticated tastes now.’

  I looked at him, wondering where he was going with this.

  ‘But I was wondering if you fancied an ice cream.’

  I laughed.

  ‘It has been years,’ he said, ‘since I’ve had a good British ice cream.’

  ‘Yeah, I would love that.’

  We wandered back along the promenade, stopping to buy two ice creams: bubble-gum flavour for me and rum-and-raisin for Dad. We walked along, eating our ice creams, round to the park.

  ‘How about a game?’ I said. It was another of the things we used to do before he left. The nine-hole putting green was unchanged. ‘But I must warn you. I am significantly better than I used to be.’

  ‘Challenge accepted,’ said Dad.

  When I saw him off that evening, he gave me a big hug.

  ‘I will miss you, ma belle.’

  ‘Miss you too, Dad.’

  ‘How about you come and stay for a weekend sometime before Christmas? Marseille isn’t all that far away, you know.’

  ‘That’d be good,’ I said. And I meant it. It would be a good opportunity to get to know Clarisse properly this time.

  As the taxi drove away, Mum and I waved.

  ‘I’m proud of you,’ she said, looking after the disappearing car. ‘It’s not always an easy step to take but I’m glad you’re mending the bridge.’

  ‘Me too, Mum. Me too.’

  Lying in bed that night, I realised it had been a good day. I’d enjoyed myself. It’d made my heart feel whole again, somehow, when I hadn’t realised it was broken.

  Chapter 28

  Nell

  The days after coming out of hospital were a blur of knotted emotions. I was maxing out on all the feelings and I’d have given anything to turn them down, like dimming the lights, or turning the music down. It was knackering. I should have listened to Mum. I should have followed the rules. What should I expect? I’ve got a prosthetic hand for crying out loud. Of course she was wanting what was best for me.

  But does that mean I shouldn’t have gone with Cam? Shouldn’t have helped her when she went to find her father? And should I have told Wendy the truth? But it wasn’t my truth to tell. Who should I please? Mum? Cam? Wendy? Me? All the things I should be thinking, ought to be doing, could have said were buzzing round my head like flies and I wanted to swat them all dead.

  The therapist recommended by my GP had a clinic near Plymouth. She wanted to meet all of us on the first visit. Mum had asked if it was really necessary but, when the doctor insisted that it wouldn’t harm, Dad booked the day off work and Mum had her hair done.

  I already knew what she’d say, though. That I needed to stop lying, start doing what Mum says, stop expecting to do so much given my ‘situation’ (something she’d say in that whisper-voice people reserve for talking about disability, cancer and death). And, above all, cut out the worrying: it’s bad for you.

  I knew the theory. It’s just in practice it was so damn hard.

  In the car on the way, I looked at the back of my parents’ heads. Dad had curls of grey twirling through his dark hair, and Mum sat, more hunched over than normal. When did we all get so squashed?

  ‘Do you think we ought to talk about it before we get there?’

  ‘Talk about what?’ said Mum.

  Dad concentrated on the road.

  ‘Everything, anything,’ I said. ‘My panic attack, I guess.’

  ‘Well, that’s what the therapist is for. She’ll sort it all out.’

  ‘Look, I know if I’d done everything you’d told me, not seen my friends, not got a job, not gone to Plymouth, not sat beside the sea and just stayed at home, none of this would have happened. Maybe that’s the answer. I’ll just stay in, where it’s safe.’

  Mum said nothing. Dad still looked at the road. We carried on in silence. I hadn’t really expected an answer – it was obvious that’s what I should have done.

  The waiting room had a vase of flowers on the windowsill and the scent of the sweet peas wafted on the breeze from the open window. A lady opened a side door. She had neat grey curls round her face and sharp eyes. She’d totally take my mum’s point of view.

  ‘The Cooper family, I presume?’ She stepped forward, extending her hand. To my surprise, she shook my hand first. ‘Very pleased you meet you, Nell.’ she said. Her sharpness softened as she smiled. ‘Come on through.’

  We all followed her into her consulting room, which looked like someone’s sitting room: easy chairs, coffee table, soft rug. It felt unexpectedly inviting. I chose a chair opposite the door. Mum, Dad and the lady sat down round me.

  ‘Thank you for all agreeing to come along,’ she said. ‘We’re all here to help you, Nell, and to help you as a family, to have strengthened relationships, and help improve your mental health.’

  Dad nodded earnestly. This was way out of all our comfort zones.

  ‘I see that the catalyst for coming to me was a panic attack, Nell. Can you tell me about that?’

  I gulped. ‘Well, I was on the quay.’

  I looked sideways at Mum. Was she going to interrupt, say I wasn’t supposed to be there? But she stayed quiet.

  ‘I was sat on a bench. It was raining. There seemed to be like a roar, a lot of background noise. Like static. All the time in my head. Then my chest started really hurting, and I couldn’t breathe. Someone must have called an ambulance.’

  ‘And how did that feel?’

  How did that feel? How did she think it felt?

  ‘It felt scary. I thought I was going to die.’ I could feel tears pricking in my eyes.

  ‘Have you ever felt like that before?’

  I nodded. A year ago. When I had my accident. I’d never really spoken about it. Every time I tried, Mum would ask why I kept bringing it up. She said that it was over and I should just try and make the best of what I had.

  ‘I should have followed the rules. I know now. The panic attack proved it. It wouldn’t have happened if I’d not gone out.’

  ‘But can you tell me about the other time you felt like that?’ she asked again.

  Mum couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I knew she wouldn’t be able to. ‘We think it’s best forgotten about. There’s no use in bringing it up all over again, all that pain. Nell needs to move on, not look back.’

  The lady noted something down, then placed her pen on the table.

  ‘The reason we look back in these sessions is because sometimes what has happened in our past is affecting our present and has the potential to influence our future. Sometimes, if it’s a traumatic or painful event, our brain doesn’t know how to deal with it. This can lead to panic attacks, anxiety and depression. We need to look back in order to move forward.’

  ‘But Nell’s panic attack wasn’t anything to do with her accident. It was because I’d caught her lying about where she’d been and who she’d been with. She even lied to her boss.’

  I looked down into my lap. This is what I’d been dreading. But she was right. I’d lied to her and I’d lied to Wendy.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m sorry, alright?’ My voice cracked. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t stay at home. If I hadn’t gone out, I wouldn’t have had a panic attack. And if I hadn’t gone out a year ago, I wouldn’t have had my accident. I get it now. I can’t do what other people can.’

  The room was silent for a moment.


  ‘Mrs Cooper, would you mind if I asked you a question?’ said the lady. Mum nodded, slowly. ‘Do you feel under pressure a lot of the time? That you can “save” Nell by giving her strict rules to follow? That if only you knew where she was every minute of the day, you could keep her from ever getting harmed again?’

  ‘No! I mean, no, of course not.’ Mum was shaking her head.

  I frowned. What did the therapist mean?

  Dad cleared his throat. Both Mum and me turned to look at him. ‘Look, love, I know it’s hard. But don’t you think you ought to say what you’ve been worried about?’ He turned to check with the therapist, who nodded. ‘There’s no judgement here, but we’ve both been struggling since Nell’s accident. To know the right thing to do. How to protect her.’

  Mum covered her face with her hands. ‘No one tells you being a parent is so hard.’ She lowered her hands. ‘I just want to do my best and I want to keep Nell safe so badly it’s like a physical pain. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her again.’

  ‘You are by no means alone,’ said the therapist. ‘I’ve seen this countless times. Your family suffered a huge trauma. You are all reacting to it in different ways. All of these are perfectly normal reactions to have. But, if it’s left to go on too long without acknowledging it, it has the potential to hold back not only your lives, but Nell’s life as well.’

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  ‘So, are we stuck like this forever?’ asked Mum. ‘Because I feel like I’m going mad some days.’

  This was news to me. Mum always seemed so sure of everything.

  ‘You feel like that too?’ I whispered.

  Mum turned to me. ‘Nearly all the time. That day of your accident.’ She paused. ‘I could never forgive myself that I’d allowed it to happen. You were a child. I’m your mother. It’s my job to keep you safe. And I failed. I promised myself that I would never let that happen again. No matter what it took.’

  ‘But Mum, you’re suffocating me,’ I said.

  Mum nodded. ‘I know. But I thought that was a price worth paying. Better to be alive and mad with your mother than dead.’

  I put out my hand and held hers. She squeezed mine tight. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Mum.’

  ‘I just love you so very much. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you.’ A tear dripped down her cheek. She clasped my hand in both hers. ‘I love you, Nell.’

  ‘I love you too, Mum. I’m sorry I didn’t understand.’

  ‘How could you? I don’t really understand myself.’

  The lady was scribbling notes again.

  ‘So then,’ said Mum, sniffing, ‘what can we do?’

  The lady smiled. ‘You’re already making a great start. Talking about it, being willing to empathise, are essential if you are to work through the trauma. I think a few sessions together, encouraging you to talk openly will help. Then I can see you individually to deal with your personal situations and you should be well on the way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dad.

  ‘I have to warn you, this does not stop Nell being the age she is. She’s sixteen, nearly an adult, and part of growing up is becoming independent and making decisions for herself. You can guide her as parents, but ultimately, it is her life, and she gets to have a say, if not the say.’

  Mum looked at me and nodded. ‘OK then. I’m up for this if you are?’

  ‘Me too, Mum.’

  ‘Right then,’ said the therapist, ‘let’s get to work.’

  After the session was over, we walked out into the sunshine towards the car.

  ‘I thought that went very well,’ said Mum, her face still blotchy.

  I nodded. My head felt like it was going to explode. We got into the car and Dad pulled out onto the road.

  ‘How are we going to make sure we keep talking, you know, about … stuff?’ I held my breath, hoping that Mum wouldn’t dismiss me with an ‘of course we will, don’t be so silly’.

  Mum turned round in her seat to look at me. ‘Because I’m going to try every day. And if I try to listen, will you try to tell me? I can’t promise I’ll always get it right, but I can promise that I will try.’

  I nodded. ‘You’re on.’ That was a start. Perhaps there was a way we could work this out. Did it matter that I couldn’t see how?

  ‘But let’s take it steady, a day at a time. We want to make sure you’re strong enough before you do anything to really test you.’

  ‘Sounds fair,’ I said. And it did. A few quiet days, figuring things out would definitely help. We had another session booked, and life had a speck of hope in it again.

  I thought about Wendy. I’d lied to her. A crushing guilt-wave crashed over me. Gorgeous, gave-me-a-chance Wendy. I could never fix that, but I had to apologise. There was no way I could live with myself if I didn’t.

  When we reached home I got out of the car. ‘Mum, Dad, I’ve got to go somewhere.’

  Mum took a deep breath. ‘OK. Can I ask where?’

  She was asking because she loved me. It made sense now.

  ‘I need to talk to Wendy.’

  Mum nodded. ‘See you in a bit then, love,’ she said. ‘And Nell?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re both so proud of you, aren’t we, Ted?’

  Dad nodded.

  ‘You guys are the best,’ I said, quickly kissing them both before running off along the road. I needed to talk to Wendy before I lost my nerve.

  I was out of breath by the time I got to the top of the high street. The lunchtime rush had gone, and I could see Wendy wiping down sides, well into her afternoon routine.

  I pushed the door open and it jangled. She looked up.

  ‘Hello.’ My mouth was dry and I was shaking like I was in the queue for a roller coaster.

  ‘Hello yourself.’ She was eyeing me cautiously, as if not sure what to expect.

  ‘I, um, I wanted to say I was sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. Especially when you’d been so kind to me, and altered my apron, and everything. I’m sorry. And I know you won’t want me to come back to work. But I didn’t want not to say … well … sorry.’ My voice trailed off.

  ‘Your friend – Cam is it? – came in and explained why you needed the day off.’

  ‘She did?’

  Wendy nodded.

  ‘I couldn’t say. It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  ‘I can see that,’ said Wendy, ‘and while I don’t like you lying to me, I do understand why you did.’

  ‘You do?’

  Wendy nodded again.

  ‘So, if you’d like to carry on working here, you can. But there’s one condition.’

  My heart jumped. I might get to keep my job? ‘What?’

  Wendy grinned. ‘Sing with me!’

  What?

  ‘There’s no way I’m singing.’

  A boy came out of the back room. My cheeks flushed. It was the boy I’d tried to buy bread from when I didn’t have any money. Was it possible to die from actual cringe? Crap – had he heard what I’d said? Did he know? My feet were twitching for the exit.

  ‘You’d better sing with her. She won’t stop hounding you until you do.’

  Wendy swatted him with her tea towel. ‘Tom, you might be my nephew, but you’ll soon to be without a job, if you’re not careful.’ She fake-frowned at him, a smile hiding just beneath the surface.

  He stuck his tongue out at her and carried on wiping the sides where Wendy had left off.

  ‘Come to think of it,’ said Wendy, ‘this is the perfect opportunity for a staff team-building exercise. We’ll all sing – that includes you, Tom.’

  Tom grimaced, but he must be used to his aunt as he put his cloth down.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she said to me, stepping out from behind the counter. ‘It’ll be fun.’ She wacked up the music. ‘Surely you know this one.’

  I did. It was Gloria Gaynor. I gulped. What had I got to lose? Other than, you know, all self-respect.

 
; ‘I know what we need,’ said Wendy, grabbing a long baguette and snapping it in three. ‘Microphones.’

  Wendy handed me one piece and threw another to Tom who caught it. It was now or never: my #NoRegrets moment. I grinned at Wendy and, not daring to look at Tom, lifted the crusty loaf to my mouth. No matter what happened, I thought as I started to sing, I would survive.

  Wendy put her arm round my shoulders, her voice much louder than mine, and Tom grinned as he joined in too.

  Chapter 29

  Hetal

  I could hear Nani on the phone as I came downstairs. I wasn’t meaning to listen, but sometimes the words just fall into your ears.

  ‘Paris must be beautiful this time of year. And you’re staying there for a few days? Oh yes, I see. Yes. Yes.’

  I walked past her and into the kitchen. She was talking to Elsie. Must be. I didn’t think she knew anyone else in Paris. Sasha had been talking about spending weekends in Marseille with her dad. She was saying how it really wasn’t that far. But imagine going all that way for a weekend. Then I stopped, my milk mid-pour. Paris was closer than Marseille. And I was sure you could get there by train, through the Channel Tunnel.

  I abandoned making my cup of tea and picked up my phone. Nani could go to Paris to see Elsie. She could get a train, so no flying. It was straight through from London so she wouldn’t have to change in France. It was perfect. Within a few minutes I’d figured out how she’d get to London. I could go with her that far, just to make sure she was OK, then Elsie or her son could meet her at the other end. I was bouncing with excitement, desperate for Nani to get off the phone so I could suggest it to her.