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- Herausgeber: David Fickling Books
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
Katie's life is falling apart: her mum's controlling, her dad's run off, she's in love with someone whose identity she can't reveal and now her estranged grandmother's turned up on the doorstep and Katie's expected to take care of her. Soon Katie discovers she's not the only one in her family hiding the truth. If she's going to get her life back together, she's going to have to expose everyone's deepest secrets - including her own.
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Seitenzahl: 603
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Contents
PART ONE
One
It was like an alien had landed. Really, it was that weird. Like an ancient creature from another planet had crashed into Katie’s day. She should have been at home studying, not sitting on a plastic chair in a hospital corridor trying to make conversation. And there were only so many times you could ask someone if they wanted anything from the drinks machine and not feel like an idiot when they refused to acknowledge you.
‘Hot chocolate?’
Silence.
‘How about a cappuccino?’
More silence.
Even ET had a wider vocabulary.
Katie didn’t know what to call her either. She’d tried ‘Nan’ earlier, but that sounded strange and got zero response. Mrs Todd? Grandma? There were no rules.
What was good was that you could stare at her and she didn’t seem to mind. She was quite pretty actually, had a soft lined face and her cheeks were all rosy with the fading light.
What was bad was that she smelled (bread left to fester in a plastic bag was Katie’s closest approximation) and she was also really thin. You could actually see her collarbones pushing up from the top of her cardigan, like they wanted to escape, and the skin at her neck was so transparent you could see her pulse quivering.
At the end of the row of chairs (was that supposed to be discreet?), the social worker was asking Mum endless questions. Did Mrs Todd have any medical conditions? Was she usually so confused? Was her late husband her carer?
‘I’m not sure how far we’re going to get with this,’ Mum said. ‘As I keep telling you, I haven’t seen her for years.’
‘You’re named as emergency contact on her husband’s medical bracelet,’ the social worker said. ‘That seems strange if you were out of communication.’
‘Well, I assure you I’m not making it up!’ Poor Mum was getting increasingly stressed. ‘And he’d have been a boyfriend, not a husband. She wasn’t a fan of commitment.’
‘She is your mother though?’
‘I’m not sure she qualifies for that role. Look, surely she’s better off staying here? Can’t you find her a bed somewhere?’
The social worker looked mildly shocked. ‘Your mother isn’t a patient. She arrived with her partner in the ambulance and there are no medical reasons to admit her. Are you telling me you’re unwilling to take her?’
If Mum had an answer to that, she managed to keep it down, and her silence was clearly taken for compliance, because the social worker smiled and turned back to her paperwork.
The old woman just sat there, eyes shut now. She wasn’t asleep though – you could tell by the tip of her chin. Maybe it was a trick? Maybe she wanted them to think she was napping, so she could scarper when no one was looking? Her boyfriend was dead, the doctors thought she was too vulnerable to go home and her daughter didn’t want her. Why not escape and start a new life somewhere else?
Chris appeared back from his trip to the toilet. He stood in front of them grinning and jiggling his feet, clearly buzzing with the strangeness of it all. ‘There’s a café.’
Mum shook her head. ‘Not now.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘I said not now.’
He hopped from foot to foot and back again. ‘Why not?’
‘You want to sit here?’ Katie tapped the chair next to her. ‘Come and say hello?’
He shook his head, feigned sudden fascination with his shoes. ‘I’m quite thirsty as well.’
The social worker stared at him. She was probably thinking, What’s the matter with this one? Why’s a hulking teenager acting like a kid? How many things can go wrong in one family?
‘Welcome to my life,’ Katie wanted to say. But instead, she stared back, because that’s what always worked best. You let them know you’d noticed and they looked away.
‘The café’s not a bad idea,’ the social worker said, avoiding Katie’s eyes as she turned to Mum. ‘This may take a while.’
Mum sighed as she opened her purse and handed Katie a ten-pound note. ‘Stay together. And come back as soon as you’re done.’
Katie nodded. ‘Anyone else want anything?’
Mum shook her head. The social worker didn’t even bother replying. Katie looked at the old woman. Maybe she’d like a meat pie or a sausage roll – something traditional and bulky to feed her up. Katie leaned in and whispered, ‘Do you want anything to eat, Gran?’
No answer. No movement. And ‘Gran’ didn’t sound right either.
The queue in the café was ridiculous and there was hardly anything left when they got to the front. They bought a packet of cheese sandwiches and two boxes of orange juice, and because the café was closing and Mum was bound to be ages they sat on the wall outside to eat. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon completely now and it was cold. Chris huddled next to Katie and rested his head on her shoulder. She didn’t stop him because it was dark and no one would see.
Over the road was a kebab shop. It had a sign in the window that advertised ‘shish, doner, falafel’. The smell of frying onions was delicious. They should have come out here in the first place and got kebabs for supper. Would Mum have minded? Yes. She’d be worried about food poisoning from spit-roasted meat and additives in the chilli sauce. Also, since it looked a bit run-down, she’d probably think they’d be offered drugs alongside the kebab. Katie sighed. Mum was very predictable.
Wednesday evening’s family plan had been: two hours’ revision (Katie), make supper (Mum), homework (Chris), eat supper (all of them). Then Chris would be allowed an hour’s Xbox while Katie did a practice maths paper and Mum trawled the exam board’s website for mark schemes and examiners’ reports so that when Katie finished they could go over the paper together to see where improvements could be made. After that, it would be bedtime. Katie would have her usual chamomile drink (Restful Nights), so she got plenty of sleep and woke up refreshed for tomorrow’s study session at school.
But none of that had happened. Instead, they were at a hospital miles from home – no revision, no supper, and the very real possibility of a total stranger coming to stay with them. Katie felt an odd sense of lightness. Because if predictable evenings could be turned upside down with a phone call, then maybe anything could be flipped on its head? Even the worst things in the world. She got out her mobile and dared one more text to Esme: PLSE LETS TALK.
Chris sat up suddenly. ‘Where’s the dead husband?’
‘Boyfriend,’ Katie said. ‘Apparently, she didn’t believe in commitment. And I expect he’s in the morgue.’
‘He might be a zombie.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘That can happen.’
‘Only if you play too much Xbox.’
He stuck his tongue out. ‘You don’t know. That woman might be one as well.’
‘Let’s hope not. And “that woman” is your grandmother, who might be coming to stay with us.’
He blinked at her. ‘Where’s she going to sleep?’
Excellent question. Why hadn’t that crossed Katie’s mind? They only had a three-bedroom flat.
‘Katie?’
‘I don’t know. Stop asking me stuff.’
‘Will it be my room?’
‘Yes.’
‘Serious?’
‘Yeah, and the zombie boyfriend’s going to live under your bed.’
Chris gave her a V-sign and shuffled along the wall.
She didn’t care. Let him get angry. She shoved her own V-sign at his big face and another at his little eyes and a third at the general bulk of him and the way his body seemed to take up more space in the world than hers was ever allowed. It wouldn’t be his room, would it? It’d be hers and she’d be expected to bunk in with Mum. And Mum would be stressed, which meant she’d demand Katie’s help and attention even more than usual. Thank goodness for you, Katie, always so reliable.
She leaned back and stared at the sky. It was grey and heavy with cloud. Any vague optimism she’d felt leaked away. In fact, she hoped a giant storm was coming – something that would rupture the fabric of the earth. Because her life had just got worse. First Dad. Then Esme. Now this.
A bus stopped in front of them. It was going to a place Katie had never heard of. That was the third bus in ten minutes and they all had different destinations on the front.
‘Hey, Chris, you fancy hopping on that bus and seeing where we end up?’
‘No!’ He looked terrified.
Only two people got off – a girl, who walked past them, talking into her mobile: ‘I might see you later. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.’ And a man, who stopped just in front of them holding a can of beer. ‘Hello,’ he said, and then he looked at Chris while pointing his beer at Katie. ‘Is she with you?’
They didn’t say anything and the man walked away.
Chris said, ‘We should go inside.’ He said it gently, like it mattered to him. ‘We shouldn’t be out here now.’
Katie shook her head. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘Not everywhere’s dangerous. It’s statistically impossible.’
‘Why are you getting down, then? Where are you going?’
‘Nowhere. My legs have gone to sleep. Stay there.’
She walked a little way along the pavement. Across the road, three men came out of the kebab shop. They unwrapped their food and took great steaming bites. I don’t know any of you, Katie thought. I will never know your names or see you again. It felt so liberating. To be away from the claustrophobia of the town where they lived – the dull streets, the unexciting shops and cafés, the tiny arts centre, the one school. A place where once rumours began, they easily spread.
Breathe, breathe. Don’t think about that now …
If she lived in this city, no one would know her. She’d reinvent herself. New clothes, new hair, maybe a piercing or a tattoo. She’d get a job, take a gap year instead of going straight to uni. She’d be like that girl getting off the bus. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.
Imagine that.
Katie licked her dry lips and closed her eyes. When she opened them, only a few seconds later, Chris was jumping off the wall.
‘It’s Mum!’ he cried.
‘What on earth are you two doing out here?’ Mum pulled Chris to her as if she hadn’t seen him for months. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere. I thought you’d been kidnapped.’
‘Kidnapped?’ Katie said. ‘That’s ridiculous!’
Mum frowned at her. ‘Terrible things happen in the blink of an eye.’
Old men die. Old women get abandoned. Hospitals phone up out of the blue.
And that was just today.
Chris was crying. A great sob welled up from deep inside him. ‘I don’t like it here.’
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Mum said, ‘it’ll be all right. We just need to get you home and safe. Don’t worry, we’re leaving now.’
Across the car park, arm in arm with the social worker, the old woman appeared. She looked totally bewildered.
‘The four of us?’ Katie asked.
Mum nodded, all the light squeezed from her face. ‘The four of us.’
Two
Mary had a blanket over her knees, and she was clutching her handbag tight and she didn’t know where she was, but she wasn’t at home and that was reason enough to be wary. Was she supposed to be working? No, this wasn’t a theatre, it was too domestic for that. Here was a sofa, a television, a lamp on a corner table, a little column of drawers and a carpet. Here was a girl setting down a tea tray.
Was this a hotel, perhaps?
‘Here you go, Grandma, a nice cup of tea. Shall I put it on this table for you?’
Who?
‘It’s Katie, remember?’
The girl was staring, expecting an answer. To distract herself from the unease growing in her belly, Mary picked up the cup and took a sip, held the liquid in her mouth and swallowed. She took a breath, did it again. See? Everything normal, nothing to look at here!
‘I wasn’t sure if you took sugar,’ the girl said. ‘But we don’t actually have any, so is it OK like that?’
Mary wiped her mouth with the hankie she kept up her sleeve and tried to think of a suitable sentence to pacify the girl. What charming windows you have. How lovely the sky.
The girl leaned against the balcony door, watching her. She looked upset. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. ‘I thought I didn’t have grandparents,’ she said eventually. ‘And now it turns out you were there all along.’
She had no idea what this child was talking about. Her heart gave a little leap of fear.
‘We’re the smallest family ever now Dad’s gone, not even any cousins or aunties. We’re like three sides of a triangle holding each other up.’
Mary struggled to sit taller, snatching at the girl’s mention of family, afraid the meaning would disappear like things sometimes did when she concentrated too hard. But then she heard a noise. That was something, that noise. That sounded like a door, like someone breezing in from outside.
‘It’s Chris,’ the girl said. ‘He finds it hard to be quiet.’
And then there were two children standing in front of her. Two. And still no clue who they were.
Unimportant questions were asked, like: Are you warm enough? And, Do you need more milk in that tea? Mary was told their mother was upstairs rearranging beds and soon they could all get to sleep and wouldn’t that be nice?
It was the girl doing the talking. The boy gawped, gimlet-eyed. Something was wrong with him, staring at her so unnervingly.
‘He’s shy,’ the girl said, as if she could read minds. ‘He’ll speak when he gets to know you.’ She turned to the boy, grinning. ‘And after that, he won’t shut up.’
The boy laughed, which made the girl laugh too. Something stirred in Mary, watching her do that.
Think woman, think. Who are these people?
Air filled her lungs. Her lungs expanded. Oxygen whizzed around her body. Air came out again in a rush of warmth and a soft, ‘Oh,’ escaped her lips.
‘You OK, Granny?’
No, she was not! Because she’d remembered suddenly and precisely, as she had at least twenty times that day already, exactly what was happening. She’d gone with Jack in an ambulance to the hospital. The doctors were terribly sorry, but they couldn’t save him. They also couldn’t allow her to go home. Instead, they’d located a daughter.
Caroline.
Then these two children must be …
Caroline’s children.
It rendered her speechless. Just the thought. After all these years.
Three
Katie couldn’t sleep. She lay in the Z-bed next to Mum and tried to relax, tried to breathe into her toes and think of nothing except the present moment and her own body. But she kept thinking of the old woman across the landing instead. Why did Mum never talk about her? How did you keep your own mother hidden? Why would you? Even people who hated their families still managed Christmas and birthdays.
Katie leaned on one elbow and looked at the dark shape of her mother in the bed. Who are you? she thought. Because it felt like everything had shifted and nothing was quite to be trusted any more.
The curtains were slightly open, and through their gap the sky was darkest blue. Katie pushed off the duvet and crept quietly across the room, eased the window open and leaned out to smell the air. It had stopped raining and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. The air smelled different from earlier – fresh and cold. As she leaned out, she saw a cat dash under a parked car, heard footsteps and laughter and watched a group of people cross the patch of green in front of the flats and go out through the gate. Beyond the estate were the streets and houses of North Bisham. Katie could send semaphore from here …
Flash, did you get my text? Flash, flash, please let’s talk about what happened. Flash, it’s doing my head in.
‘What’s going on?’ Mum said. ‘Why are you standing there?’
Katie turned as her mum struggled to sit up. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Aren’t you well?’
‘It’s stuffy in here, that’s all.’
‘And now it’s freezing.’
Katie pulled the window shut and stood with her back against the ledge.
‘Did you hear a noise?’ Mum said. ‘Is that what woke you? Do you think she’s wandering about?’
‘I didn’t hear anything, I was just hot.’
Mum dragged the duvet up to her neck and leaned back against the pillows. She looked vulnerable, as if there was something wrong with her and Katie had come to visit. ‘What do you reckon that social worker would have done if I’d refused to take her?’
‘Stuck her in some emergency place, I guess.’
‘I should have let her do that.’ Mum ran a hand down her neck and rubbed at her shoulder. ‘I felt completely pressurized.’
‘It must be scary being handed over to a bunch of strangers.’
‘Strangers?’
‘Well, she doesn’t recognize you after all these years. That’s the same thing.’
Mum sighed and nestled back into the pillows. ‘So, she’s a poor old woman and I’m cruel and heartless?’
‘I’m not saying that. It’s just … well, it’s weird for everyone, I guess. She’s bereaved. You’re freaked out. Me and Chris know nothing about her.’
‘You know she walked out the door when I was born.’ Mum’s voice was low, hardly more than a whisper. ‘You know she didn’t show her face again for years.’
‘But you lived with her when you were older. That’s what you said in the car. So, why have we never met her? Why have we never had a birthday present or pocket money or been invited to tea?’
Mum frowned. ‘Is that all you think about – the things you’ve missed out on?’
It did sound like that, but Katie hadn’t meant it that way. ‘It’s strange, that’s all. She’s your mum and you never talk about her.’
‘I don’t consider her my mum, that’s why. She didn’t feed or clothe me or make sure I went to school or look after me when I got sick. Her sister, Pat, did all that. As far as I’m concerned, Pat was my mother. The woman who gave birth to me was another person entirely.’
‘And Pat’s not about to appear out of the woodwork, is she? She’s definitely dead?’
‘You know she is.’ Mum pulled the duvet higher. ‘It takes more than biology to be a parent, it takes sacrifice. You can’t just run about doing what you like.’
Katie felt something shift and tighten in her stomach because those were the exact words Mum yelled at Dad all those months ago. It made it difficult to breathe, so Katie turned back to the window and pressed her cheek against the cold glass.
‘First thing tomorrow,’ Mum said, ‘I’ll pop into work and let them know what’s going on. After that, I’ll call the hospital and get a list of nursing homes. Somewhere must have a space.’
Over there, beyond the trees, were the big houses with gardens and gates, where kids probably had two parents and didn’t have to share a bedroom with one of them. Ordinary families.
‘Chris can have the day off school to sit with her. He’s had a late night as it is. Your maths session’s at eleven, isn’t it?’
Katie’s family used to be ordinary. Before Dad got a girlfriend and Mum got a skip and chucked Dad’s stuff in it. Before Mum declared their family home was tainted and dragged them to this town. Before Esme. And now Katie could add a secret grandmother and an ancient family rift to the ranks of unordinary things.
‘Are you listening to me, Katie?’
‘I can miss maths.’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘I’m on study leave, remember? None of the school sessions are statutory.’
‘Well, they should be.’ Mum patted the bed beside her. ‘Come here.’
Katie didn’t want to be touched, but Mum was holding her hand out, so Katie went slowly over and sat beside her.
‘Your future’s a very important part of this family’s equation and nothing’s going to jeopardize it.’
She leaned over and ruffled Katie’s hair, which Katie didn’t remember her ever doing before. It was all a bit awkward.
‘Smoke alarms!’
‘What?’
Mum threw the duvet off. ‘I’ll check the batteries.’
‘You think she’ll set the flat alight?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’ Mum grabbed her dressing gown from the chair and pulled it on. ‘I’ll hide the front door key as well.’
Katie laughed, she couldn’t help it. ‘You don’t want her here, but you don’t want her escaping?’
‘I don’t want her causing chaos.’ Mum shoved her feet into slippers. ‘She might look harmless, but she’s capable of anything.’
Four
‘Sure I can’t tempt you onto the balcony?’
The old woman shook her head and curled her fingers tightly round her bag. Katie unfolded a deckchair and turned it to the sun. She put up the umbrella for shade and plumped one of the cushions and put it on the chair. ‘It’s a good view and you’ll be able to see Mum come back across the grass.’
More head shaking.
And where was Mum anyway? She’d been gone far longer than the half hour she promised. And Katie had to get to school soon, which felt like just another disaster waiting to happen – not just maths revision, but the inevitable stares, the whispers, the feeling that her legs were too short and her arms too long and her walk too weird and her clothes not right.
Oh, God!
The balcony suddenly felt very exposing.
She closed the doors and sat on the carpet at the old woman’s feet. Maybe she should call Mum and insist on missing maths? Mum could stay out and Katie could sit right here keeping an eye on things. It made total sense. She could think of some old lady activities, like knitting or macramé and look them up on YouTube. It might be fun being a carer. She might even be good at it. If she found the right name (and she hadn’t tried Nana or Grams yet), it might be like a magic key that opened the old woman up to communication. Maybe when you got to know her, she’d be like one of those wise women in fairy tales, full of advice and wisdom. She might even have potion-making skills and Katie could get her to make some kind of ‘forgetting serum’ and get Esme to drink it.
Katie sighed. First of all, Mum would never let her skip a revision class so close to the exam. An investment in knowledge pays the best interest was her favourite quote in the world. Second of all, this grandmother sitting in front of her was clearly incapable of intelligent transaction. She’d spent last night looking terrified and this morning looking confused and now she had her eyes shut again. She was clearly not going to do or say anything of merit, so instead of fantasizing about magic potions, Katie should encourage the poor thing to eat and help her feel comfortable.
‘How about some breakfast? We don’t usually have anything exciting in the house, but Chris sounds like he’s raiding the freezer, so we might get lucky. You fancy something to eat?’
No response.
‘Actually, it’s not a house, it’s a flat. Maybe you remember coming up in the lift last night?’ God, now she sounded patronizing. ‘We’re on the top floor,’ she added. ‘It’s a great view. If you were to come out on the balcony right now, you’d be able to see the whole of North Bisham shining away in the sun.’
The old woman opened one eye – seamlessly, without letting the closed one even flicker. It made Katie smile because this was something she thought only she could do. She’d never met anyone who’d been able to replicate the exact spookiness of it. No frowning. No screwing up your face. Just one eye closed and the other open. Like you were half sleeping. Or only half alive.
‘Bisham?’
She spoke! Katie was almost too shocked to reply. ‘Yes, do you know it?
‘Victory Avenue?’
‘Um, no. Is that round here? You want me to Google it?’
The old woman snapped the other eye open. ‘What?’
Of course! This poor woman probably didn’t even know computers were invented. Google it? What was she thinking? She was an idiot!
‘It’s like a map. I can look it up. You want me to?’
Katie was elated. They’d had a conversation! A whole one and it made sense! They sat in silence looking at each other. It went on for ages. It made Katie think of zoos and how weird it was when a caged animal came up close and studied you as intently as you were studying them.
Eventually, the old woman said, ‘Caroline lives in Bisham.’
‘Yeah, she’ll be back soon. She just popped to work.’
‘Work?’
‘At the estate agents. She had to hand some keys in.’
Katie watched her absorb this. ‘You’re Caroline’s daughter.’
‘That’s right.’
The old woman shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. ‘You’re all grown up.’
‘Well, we missed out on seventeen years together, didn’t we?’
And that’s when Chris came in with a chocolate cake. He’d cut it into pieces, which meant he’d taken the opportunity to eat at least one slice out in the kitchen. He’d remembered plates and napkins though, which surprised her. Katie took the cake from him and held it out. ‘Would you like some?’
A small smile. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘Hey, she talks!’ Chris said.
Katie glared at him. ‘Don’t be rude.’ She held the plate nearer. ‘Which piece do you want, Mary? I expect you’re hungry, aren’t you?’
‘Mary’ sounded right, seemed to work too, since her smile widened.
‘Mary,’ Katie said again, enjoying the sound. She didn’t know a single other human being with that name. ‘I’m going to put the biggest piece on this plate for you, look.’
Chris got himself a slice and sat on the carpet at Mary’s feet. ‘Can you believe Mum didn’t make me breakfast? She never forgets stuff like that. Not ever.’
Mary peered down at him. ‘I have absolutely no idea who you are.’
‘I’m Chris!’ He banged his head with his fist to prove it. ‘Hear that? That’s me.’
‘You live here?’
‘Where else would I live?’ He spiralled a finger at his temple, meaning crazy.
Katie rammed her foot at him because he hated it when people made that gesture at him, but he just laughed and slid out of reach.
Mary looked from Chris to Katie and back to Chris. ‘You two have exactly the same colour hair.’
Katie smiled. ‘Titian.’
‘Either of you get called Copper Top?’
‘Dad calls me Agent Orange,’ Chris said. ‘Well, he would if he was here …’
‘What does your girlfriend call you?’
He laughed. ‘I haven’t got one. Mum would go nuts.’
She turned to Katie. ‘What about you? Are you courting?’
A memory of a kiss, like a grainy black-and-white dream, drifted across Katie’s mind. She pushed it solidly away. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Pretty thing like you. No suitors bashing at the door?’
‘That definitely doesn’t happen.’
‘When I was a girl I used to climb out my bedroom window and down the drainpipe to go dancing.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Every week a different boy walked me home. Once they knew where I lived, they couldn’t keep away. Boys everywhere! Can you imagine? My father used to go mad. He said it was unbecoming for a young lady to enjoy so much attention.’
Katie didn’t know what to say. It was all getting a bit odd. How could someone refuse to talk for hours and then suddenly have the capacity to launch into erotic memories with total eloquence? Katie took a bite of cake so that she wouldn’t have to say anything. It was pretty good for something Chris found lurking in the freezer and she discovered she was starving. She polished her piece off in silence.
She was so busy licking each finger clean that she didn’t notice Mum arrive. It was as if she’d apparated in the doorway and was suddenly standing there leaning on the doorframe watching them all. ‘Everyone all right?’
‘She talks,’ Chris said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ‘She was only pretending she couldn’t.’
‘Is that right?’
‘And she’s eating.’
Mary looked up at Mum, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘I had to let work know I wasn’t coming in.’
‘What’s your name?’
Mum didn’t answer, didn’t move from the doorway, like her legs were stuck to the carpet. The only thing that moved was a finger that scratched at the seam of her trouser pocket. She looked exhausted and furious all at once. She looked as if she wanted to scratch away at that pocket until there was a hole big enough to climb inside.
Seeing them both together in daylight, Katie could see the resemblance. Mary’s hair was mostly white, but there was auburn in it too and Mum’s was the opposite – mostly auburn, with streaks of grey shot through. Mary had an old woman’s hands – the skin veiny, the fingers gnarled. Mum’s had a spattering of brown age spots on the back and Katie knew she felt the first nags of arthritis in the mornings. They had the same blue eyes, the same slim build, even the same heart-shaped faces. This is how it will be for me, Katie thought. I’m going to look like the two of you. One day her legs would thicken, her hair would whiten, her skin would sag and she’d wither and grow old. It was like seeing the stages of her life laid out.
Mary was still gazing at Mum. ‘I’m absolutely sure I know you from somewhere.’
Chris jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll do introductions.’
‘Don’t,’ Mum said.
But he was wired from the cake and ignored her.
‘Mrs Todd,’ Chris said, jumping to his feet and standing in front of Mary. ‘Please meet Mrs Baxter.’ He waved his arms in Mum’s direction as if he was a game show host. ‘Mum, this is your mother, Mrs Todd.’
‘Sit down, Chris,’ Mum said, glaring at him. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’
But Chris didn’t sit. He held out his hand to Mary instead. ‘And my name’s Christopher.’
Mary smiled graciously and took his hand. ‘A pleasure.’
Mum looked as if she was about to stride over and tear them apart.
Chris was pumping Mary’s hand up and down as if he’d never let go. Both of them were laughing. Mum took a step forward, as if this was just what she’d dreaded. ‘For goodness sake!’
‘Chris,’ Katie said frantically, ‘why don’t you offer the cake round again?’ She leaped up and dragged him by his arm and pointed to the table. ‘Quickly now. It’s over there, look.’
Mum frowned and Katie knew she was wondering where they’d got it from.
‘Freezer,’ she explained. ‘It’s a welcome cake.’
Mum shook her head disapprovingly. She probably expected Katie to have cooked a saucepan of porridge and certainly wouldn’t like them having chocolate gateau for breakfast. She waved Chris away when he held out the plate. ‘Not for me.’
Katie declined as well, though she would have liked some more. Things were hard enough for Mum already. Solidarity was required. Mary and Chris each took another piece.
Katie patted the chair next to her. She’d never seen her mother look so uncomfortable. ‘You want to sit down?’
Mum shook her head. ‘I’ve got to make some calls.’
The clock ticked. Chris and Mary chomped. Mum fiddled with her pocket.
‘So,’ Mum said eventually. ‘Since you’ve decided to communicate, perhaps I can ask if you’d like a bath? I think it’s probably a while since you had one of those, isn’t it?’
‘A bath?’ Mary huffed. She turned to Mum as if she was trying to work out who was giving her such ridiculous instructions. ‘I’m off to visit my daughter actually.’
Mum avoided eye contact, shuffled her feet.
‘She is your daughter,’ Katie said gently.
Mary shook her head. ‘My daughter’s a lot younger.’
‘Charming.’ Mum brought her hand out of her pocket and uncurled her fist, examined her fingernails as if they were intriguing, as if she’d never really noticed them before. Katie felt so sorry for her. All these years without a mother and now one had turned up and it was the saddest reunion ever.
‘She’s your daughter, all grown up,’ Katie said. ‘She’s Caroline.’
Mary stared at Katie, her eyes searching, as if she was trying to work out if she was being tricked. ‘She is?’
‘I promise you.’
‘I sent a man out to find her. He didn’t say anything about her being grown up.’
‘Well, this is all very awkward,’ Mum said. ‘So, if it’s all right with everyone, I think we’ll get on with what we’re all supposed to be doing. Katie, you need to get to school. Chris, you keep an eye on things here.’ She turned to Mary. ‘You might like to listen to the radio? Chris will sort that out for you. I’m going upstairs to phone the hospital.’
Mary looked alarmed. ‘Hospital?’
‘You can’t stay here.’ Mum sounded very sure of this. ‘I’d say they’ve been negligent.’
Chris reached out for another piece of cake. Mum shook her head. ‘No more.’
‘But I’m hungry.’
‘Then have a banana.’
She frowned at him. She meant it. Chris sat on his hands and stuck out his bottom lip. Mum stomped off up the stairs.
Mary looked at Chris, bemused. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘She’s not very nice, is she?’
Five
Here’s what happened, exactly how it went.
Three weeks ago, Esme had been sitting on the edge of her bed making a joint. Right at the edge, her bare toes dabbling at the carpet, and every now and then she’d flicked Katie a look.
‘Biggest fantasy,’ she said. ‘You go first.’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘You do. Of course you do.’
But Katie wasn’t going to say. She knew what that would do.
‘The first thing that comes into your head,’ Esme said. ‘How hard can it be?’
‘I should probably go.’
‘You only just got here.’
‘My mum keeps texting.’
‘Sod your mum. You’re seventeen.’
But if she continued to ignore the texts, if she didn’t go home soon, Mum would do something mad like call the police to report Katie missing. She’s never late, she’s a good girl, she never breaks the rules. She must have been abducted. Abducted by Esme, her one and only friend, who just lately had been ignoring her, moving away, hanging out with other girls. But who today had said, ‘Come back to mine, you want to?’
And Katie had felt two things at exactly the same time. One – excitement. Two – fear.
‘Come on, Katie. How hard can it be to say one measly fantasy out loud?’
‘All right, how about my dad announcing it’s all a joke and he loves my mum after all?’
‘Not that kind of fantasy, you doughnut! A proper one. A sexy one, you know. I’ve got tons.’
‘Have you?’
Esme crossed her legs on the bed like a storyteller in for the long haul. ‘Hundreds.’
She really did. They mostly involved werewolves or vampires falling instantly in love with her, but she also had one about a boy at the tech college who had a car and had gone round a friend of Esme’s house and chucked stuff at her window and then, when she opened it, whisked her off to the some field where they made ‘sweet love under the stars’ (Esme’s words) and she’d quite like that to happen to her (though not with that particular boy). She rattled off a few more about doing it in public and some steam punk weirdness to do with an automaton coming to life, and just as Katie was beginning to wonder if they’d drifted apart so much they literally had nothing in common any more, Esme mentioned Simona Williams from the year above (who everyone knew the rumours about).
‘Sometimes I imagine the stuff she gets up to,’ Esme said, ‘and I think how she seems so confident, almost cool, you know. She looks like a boy with that haircut. She could actually be a boy in a certain light, and sometimes I look at her in the canteen or wherever and I wonder what it would be like to have her do that stuff to me.’ She looked at Katie. ‘You ever wonder that?’
Katie was shivering. She had so much fear in her guts her fingers were in knots. She shook her head, blushing. ‘I don’t know.’
They didn’t talk for a while and Katie wondered what that meant. Was Esme leaving a space on purpose? Was Katie supposed to fill it?
Esme scooted up the bed, opened the window and leaned out. She waved the joint. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘No thanks.’
Esme sighed. ‘Such a good girl.’
And maybe it was that. Because that’s what Mum always said and Katie didn’t want to be someone who was always so predictable and boring.
Or maybe it was watching Esme with the joint – the way she kneeled there, her elbows on the window ledge, taking long drags and blowing smoke into the garden where it danced off into the trees and got all mixed up with the branches. She looked so far away, like nothing could reach her.
But mostly it was what she’d said about Simona. Because why would she say stuff like that?
‘I do have a fantasy,’ Katie said.
Esme turned from the window. ‘Yeah?’
It was like standing on a high building and looking down and being crazily attracted to the idea of falling. No, it was like knowing you were already falling, that you were tipping over the edge and it was too late to even think about clawing your way back up. It made Katie’s heart race, her nerves scramble as she moved closer to Esme on the bed, so close she could run a finger down Esme’s arm, down to her hand until their fingers brushed.
And then … Katie leaned in and kissed her.
No! She couldn’t think about it now. Remembering would have to wait, because now (oh God!) she was walking through the school gates and there she was – Esme, sitting on one of the benches near the main path with all four of her ridiculous friends. These were the girls Esme had been in primary school with. They’re like my sisters, she used to say, although she’d been perfectly happy to drop them when Katie arrived at the school. ‘You know so much more about so much stuff than they do, Katie.’
Not stuff about clothes or boys though, or stuff about music or what was cool or not. Or where the best parties were, or which bars or shops served you alcohol without asking for ID. And, slowly, Esme decided it was dull to have a friend who was never allowed out, who didn’t have a Smartphone or a Facebook page, who was always looking after her brother or spending time with her mum.
Esme had new trousers – blue with white polka dots and a tie belt and a white blouse with little capped sleeves. She looked amazing. Katie had never seen any of these clothes before.
A couple of the other girls had taken their shoes off and hitched their skirts up to expose their legs to the sun. They were talking way too loudly about some gig over at the tech college and how it was a fiver to get in, and how someone’s brother worked the bar, so maybe they’d get in for free.
The world seemed to pulse as Katie got closer, like she could hear her own blood.
You just have to walk past. They might not even see you.
She breathed her mantra – fire, earth, water, air – and told herself that the elements were older and stronger than any human and that these girls were insignificant, and one day they’d all be dust.
Keep walking. Soon it will be over.
‘Look who it is.’
The mouthiest of the group, Amy, had a sixth sense for sure, sniffing the air like a pack animal who could smell fear approaching. And now she’d spoken, Esme turned and for a moment it was as if she forgot to be appalled, because there was a flash of warmth in her eyes before she leaned back on the bench in disgust. The others looked over slowly, one at a time, and something rippled through them.
Amy shielded her eyes with her hand from the sun’s glare. ‘Hey, I like your cardigan.’
Katie ignored her, kept on walking.
‘Very unusual.’
It helped to pretend she was foreign and didn’t speak their language or understand sarcasm.
‘But then you’ve got unusual taste,’ Amy said. ‘Or, at least, that’s what I heard.’ She shot a knowing look at the others. ‘Any of you heard that?’
And there it was again. Proof Esme had told them. Proof Esme had betrayed her.
They giggled like children who’d been told a filthy joke. One of them even bothered to fall off the bench with merriment.
Go up to them, Katie willed herself. Go up and stamp on their stupid feet. But instead, she found herself trying to look smaller, found herself walking past as if she was insignificant, worthless and might as well be ignored. It was a way of walking that felt familiar. Despite his weight in the world, she’d seen Chris shrink into himself when people stared at him, and it shocked her to realize that walking past these girls made her feel like her brother.
The maths room was empty except for Ms Nayyar, who looked up from her desk and gave Katie a broad grin as she walked in. ‘Ah, my most reliable student.’
‘No one else here?’
‘Too hot for them, perhaps?’ She wiped her brow with a dramatic sweep.
Katie got out her maths stuff. Yes, she agreed, it was a heatwave and yes, it was surprising after last night’s rain and yes, it probably was hotter than Delhi, where Ms Nayyar’s brother had taken his kids to visit their grandparents. Katie tried to be interested in the details, tried to nod and smile in the right places, but all she could think was – Esme, why did you tell them?
All the way through the study session she felt anger build inside her. She was an idiot for trusting anyone. She was also an idiot for coming to maths – the hottest day for ages and she was the only one who’d bothered. What a fool! By the time the class was over, the anger began to feel like something alight. She was so predictable. She hated it about herself, and yet the only unpredictable thing she’d ever done had gone horribly wrong. Even now, she knew that she’d walk across the playground, and if Esme and that lot were still there, she’d hang her head and slink past them. Then she’d walk home in twenty minutes (she’d once been dull enough to time it) and then up to the flat to do more studying.
The girls had gone. The twenty-minute walk took exactly that, even though fury should have made it quicker, so to make something different happen before a predictable afternoon set in, she went to the shop and bought a box of strawberry Cornettos.
Mum was at the kitchen table when Katie got in and Mary was in the lounge, which meant they probably hadn’t been in the same room since she left for school. The whole world was at war.
‘What’s this?’ Mum said. ‘More sugar?’
Katie ignored her, tore open the box and handed two to Chris, handed Mum hers and sat at the table to open her own.
‘Am I allowed?’ Chris was clearly gobsmacked.
‘Live a little,’ Katie told him. ‘Take the other one to Mary.’
Mum raised an eyebrow. ‘Mary?’
Katie gave her a long look. ‘We have to call her something. What do you suggest?’
She knew she was spreading the anger. It was stuck to her like tar and the only way to get it off was to rub it onto other people.
She ripped the cardboard disc from the top of her ice cream and exposed the white chocolate curls and strawberry sauce. She peeled back the red shiny paper. It made her feel about six years old.
Chris came back and shoved one of the Cornettos in the freezer. ‘She’s asleep.’
They sat in silence, licking their ice creams.
‘How was school?’ Mum asked eventually.
‘Fine.’
‘Maths went OK?’
‘Yep.’
‘You’ll do some practice papers tonight?’
‘Sure.’
Mum sighed. ‘For goodness sake, Katie, don’t go all monosyllabic on me. I’m having a hard enough day as it is! I only asked a simple question.’
But it wasn’t simple. How was school? It was a more complex question than Mum could ever imagine. Should Katie say, I kissed my best friend and now I’m a social pariah? No, she could never in a million years tell Mum that. What then? News of the gig at the tech college? No, none of that either. They’ll need fake IDs for that, Mum would say. Where are their parents, that’s what I want to know? I don’t want you hanging around with girls like that, they’re a bad influence, blah, blah.
Katie decided all Mum wanted was a distraction, so she told her that school was pretty quiet now exams were in full swing, maths had been empty, the teacher had been sweet and it was definitely useful to look at stuff one-to-one.
‘That’s what university will be like,’ Mum said. ‘Just you and a tutor going over mathematical theories together.’
Katie didn’t think of maths when she thought of university. Instead, she imagined a place where she could reinvent herself, a place where nothing had gone horribly wrong yet.
She crumpled her ice-cream wrapper, tossed it in the bin and took a breath. ‘So, how did the phone calls go?’
Mum looked instantly exhausted. ‘I’ve had enough of it, stuck upstairs in this weather. I’ve been passed from department to department and absolutely no one wants to take responsibility.’ She slid a notebook across the table. ‘Look at this. I’ve spoken to every one of those people. Seems you can only be given help once you’re in the system, and to get in the system you need to be assessed, and to be assessed you need a doctor’s referral, and to get one of those you need a doctor and a permanent address.’ She laughed with no humour. ‘I managed to get her an appointment with my own doctor, but not until Tuesday, so what are we supposed to do with her until then?’
Katie scanned the notes, pages of scrawl with numbers and names and random sentences. Can she manage personal care? Does she have wide-ranging medical and social needs? Mini mental health exam? Adult Care Team referral?
The anger slid out of her. Poor Mum. Poor Mary.
She passed the notebook to Chris, but he ignored it, was tracing patterns on his ice cream with his tongue and pretending to be stupid. She passed it back to Mum.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Mum smiled wearily. She read and reread the notebook, like picking at a scab.
1954 – the promise
Mary leans over the side of the bed and clutches at her sister, because surely this can’t, surely no one can be expected … Another one, already another one, like a great wave coming from afar. Mary’s back arches against it as it comes closer, like a belt tightening – pulling every ligament, wrenching muscles into tension, straining each vertebra so that her spine will surely snap. She’s turning inside out with it. She’s going to burst, wet and violent, across the bedroom walls.
‘I can’t do this.’ Her voice is smaller, seems to come from far away. ‘It hurts, Pat. Please make it stop.’
‘There’s nothing to be done,’ Pat says. ‘It’s too late for anything.’
Mary closes herself to Pat then, because what does she know? Even now, in the heat and terror of it, Pat’s determined to be right. They should call an ambulance, shouldn’t they? Get a midwife to come?
Out there, beyond the window, Saturday night is happening. Out there, girls are putting on lipstick, spraying perfume at their throats, walking to the Roxy, their heels click-clicking, their breath like smoke in the frosty air. Mary envies them with all her being. She’d trade anything to be out there instead of in here, with this … oh … this awful inevitability. There’s no escape, that’s the worst thing. And it’s going on for ever and … ahh! here comes another one!
‘They’re getting closer, aren’t they?’ she gasps. ‘That was sooner than before.’
‘It’s all right,’ Pat says. ‘It means it’s nearly over.’
‘But this is already more than I can bear.’ She can hear herself moaning, low moaning, pushing into screams.
‘Quiet!’ Pat hisses. ‘You want the neighbours to hear?’
‘The neighbours can go to hell!’
Mary knows she’s desperate. She sees herself as Pat sees her, desperate and so afraid and she doesn’t care. See me like this. This is me. Did you know this was me? All these years you envied me, big sister, but I reckon you don’t envy me now! The peak arrives more quickly, takes her more completely than before.
‘Breathe,’ Pat says. ‘I read it somewhere. Like blowing smoke.’
And Mary blows, blows until she’s giddy …
And then something amazing. There’s suddenly distance and over there, far away, she sees herself as a child sitting in the arms of the cherry tree. It crosses Mary’s mind that perhaps she’s dying, which seems a shame, but at least there’s no pain here for an instant. Here’s the day the sun shone ladders down the side of the house and she spied Norman, the boy next door, cleaning his bike. She wanted to secretly throw something at him, but the cherries weren’t grown yet, and apart from branches and leaves there wasn’t anything. Here was the day she smeared her lips crimson and smacked them together, enjoying the strange taste of stolen lipstick as she clambered swiftly down the tree, crossed the grass, slid silently over the wall and tapped Norman on his shoulder. ‘You want a kiss?’
And now this – oh, again, oh, not again! Will this last for ever? She wants to push. She’s losing it, completely. This will never end and she hears herself screaming. She really can’t stand any more. All moments of peace are ended, all memories have gone, and she’s back in her bedroom with these walls and her sister flapping about like a lunatic and this unavoidable need to push. It’s like puking. Urgent and ridiculous.
How can she still be alive and feel this much agony? She actually feels the baby as, ‘Oww!’ as its head presses against her, opening her, stretching her so wide it burns. It has to stop, she has to make it stop. It’s like being eaten by fire. She scrabbles with her hand, reaches down to put an end to this, to do something, anything that will make it go away. But her fingers meet the baby’s head – and it’s so entirely shocking to touch her unborn child, that the room goes still. She is touching her daughter. She is the first person in the world to touch her. For the rest of Caroline’s life, that will always be true. The baby’s head is convoluted like a soft mountain range. Her hair is wet fluff, the curve of her skull so tender as she, as Mary, pushes her out and there’s a face between her legs. For an instant, for a completely odd and confusing second, it’s her being born, she thinks, and she lies blinking between her own mother’s legs with the pressure of the world across her shoulders and she knows above all things that this child must be loved. If I can give you nothing else, I promise you that. Pat’s fumbling with hot water and towels and saying, ‘Pant, don’t push!’ when there’s nothing Mary can do to avoid it, nothing, no panting in the world is stopping this.
It takes three pushes (only three! Pat will recount later, as if even in the process of giving birth to an illegitimate child, Mary is blessed with good fortune) and the baby lies on the bed slippery as a mackerel and Mary is a mother.
She’s done it. She’s survived, and so has the baby and so has Pat and all three of them are crying.
‘It’s relief,’ Pat says. But then she looks at her watch, so maybe it’s fear, because their father’s at the pub and he’ll be home soon and how the heck are they going to explain away a baby?
Six
‘“Slut” was a word I was familiar with,’ Mary told the girl who came running up. ‘But from my father’s lips it made me feel terribly exposed. Can you imagine?’
‘I’d say Houdini was a more appropriate term,’ the girl said, grabbing her arm and steering her back across the street. ‘Mum’s freaking out.’
‘I had errands.’
‘What errands?’
‘A place I needed to go.’
‘Just ask me if you need anything.’ The girl chivvied her along a stretch of pavement. ‘Come on, we have to hurry.’
‘Where’s the fire?’
‘Sorry, but Mum’s pretty stressed. Also, you’ve still got your nightie on, which is kind of mortifying.’
And then they were hurrying through a gate, across a courtyard, through some doors and into a lift. The girl said, ‘I won’t tell her you made it all the way to the main road, if that’s all right with you?’
Out of the lift and into a hallway and Mary was struck by a blankness, by the hollow sound the girl’s knuckles made as she rapped at a door.
A woman flung it open. ‘Thank goodness. Where was she?’
‘By the gate. Not far.’
Mary was pulled inside. There was a coat rack, a fish tank, a pile of boots and shoes. The door was shut behind her. The world got smaller.
‘Kitchen,’ the woman said, pointing the way.
Mary was invited to sit. The girl was invited to leave. The woman sat behind a table strewn with papers and put her fingers in a pyramid under her chin. ‘Where were you going?’
‘I needed something.’
‘What?’
‘I needed …’
But it had gone. It was like trying to catch light in her fist. Damn!
The woman frowned. ‘I know being under the same roof is uncomfortable for both of us, but you can’t run off. There are roads and cars out there. It’s dangerous. Also, my daughter’s got better things to do than chase after you.’
They gazed at each other in silence. Mary had no clue what was expected of her.
The woman said, ‘You never could stay in one place longer than five minutes, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.’ Then she said, ‘When that social worker told me you’d been at the same address with Jack for thirteen years, I thought you might have changed.’
Jack? The name hurt. Mary shrugged it away.
‘That’s a world record for you,’ the woman said. ‘Thirteen whole years.’
Was this an interview? It was most disconcerting.
The woman said, ‘Yesterday, you said you sent a man out to find me. Why did you say that?’
Mary thought about that. It certainly had the ring of truth. ‘Perhaps you were lost?’
The woman sighed. ‘Never mind.’
Mary was taken to the lounge and put in a chair by the window. She was ordered to, ‘Stay there.’ She was commanded not to ‘even think about moving’. A boy was set up as a guard. The girl was instructed to go upstairs and look over some blinking maths papers. The woman went away.
It was just a few minutes later when Mary sat up with the shock of remembering. So stupid to have forgotten, when it was as sharp and clean as a knife to her now. Victory Avenue. That was it. It’s all that she wanted. Number twenty-three – with its blue gate, its neat front garden, the tiled steps leading up to the door. She’d count them as she crept up to the window to peek in and count them again as she tiptoed away. Eight steps in all. Each one embedded in her brain.
She got out of the chair and walked to the door. She wouldn’t forget this time. She’d say it over and over until she got there. But the boy who took her arm said she’d better sit back down or she’d be in trouble.
‘I have to go.’
‘You’re not allowed.’
Allowed? Was this child in charge? He was young, with red hair and pyjamas. He stood there with his hands on his hips and insisted she sit.
‘Please get me a paper and pen most urgently,’ she told him.
‘You want to write a letter?’
‘Never mind what I want,’ Mary said. ‘Just get me a pen.’
He picked up a little black bag with a zip and handed it to her.
‘Here. I have to go to my room to get paper though.’ He jogged to the door. ‘Don’t go away,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘or I’ll get bollocked.’
Mary wrote 23 on the sofa and drew a line underneath it. Then
