Becoming Jo
Page 19
I go upstairs to my room, look at my piles of schoolwork and then at the pictures above my bed. The oldest photos, of Notre Dame and the Grand Canyon and the Taj Mahal, are yellowing at the edges. One day I will leave home for good, earn enough money to travel around the world then go to uni and work in London to fund my writing until I can live off my books. At least that’s what I hope.
I sit on the bed. Strange, how much I can look forward to the future and how much I fear it too. Weird, how many times I’ve longed to be alone in the house and, now that I am, how a part of me can’t wait for everyone to come home.
A knock at the front door breaks into my daydreaming.
Lateef is on the doorstep. He’s holding a small fir tree on a stand and smiling. He’s been amazing these past few months, distracting me, dragging me out, sending me jokes and links to new songs he thinks I’ll love. We don’t talk about Beth much, but every now and then he’ll give me a look that says he’s here for me. My best friend.
“Uncle Jim sent me over with this. He thought you might not have had time to get a tree.”
“Oh, that’s kind of him.” I’m hugely touched – we never even thought of getting a tree. But then gruff Uncle Jim is kind. I stand back to let Lateef through. He takes the tree into the living room, where a cardboard box I hadn’t noticed before stands in front of the TV. It has XMAS DECS in Mum’s neat, round handwriting on the side.
Lateef sets up the tree by the fire.
“Should we decorate it?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, then, “No. Let’s wait till Beth gets back.”
Our eyes meet.
“When will they be home?” Lateef asks. He knows all about this hospital appointment – and how much it means to all of us.
“Soon.”
Lateef opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak, but before he can say anything the front door slams open and Amy and Meg clatter into the house, Meg insisted they went out earlier to a pop-up fashion show in Ringstone. She said she thought it would be good for them to get out of the house for a bit.
“…the dress was magenta,” Amy insists.
“It was crimson,” Meg says, exasperated.
Lateef grins as the pair of them walk into the living room.
“Lateef!” Amy says. I think I see her cheeks flush, or maybe they were already pink thanks to the chilly air outside. The tip of her nose is definitely red from the cold. She is wearing a bobble hat over her sleek hair and a thick scarf, above which her eyes sparkle. She looks, I realize with a jolt, properly beautiful. She’s still just a teenager, but there’s no trace of the little girl who moved here a year ago.
“Nice tree.” Meg nods approvingly at the little fir as she takes off her gloves. She has changed too, in the last year. She’s grown up somehow, like she’s more sure of who she is: very happy at college but carrying responsibilities that weigh her down too. She doesn’t mention Beth directly, but worry is etched on her face, as I know it is on mine.
“It’s the best one from the garden,” Lateef explains.
“Beth’ll love decorating it,” I add. “And if she doesn’t have the energy to do it herself, she can tell us where she wants the baubles or whatever to go.”
Meg nods. She glances at me, eyebrows raised. I know what she’s asking.
“No news,” I say, “but they should be back any minute.”
A heavy silence hangs over the room.
“Hey, Amy,” Lateef says, and there’s something strangely tentative in his voice that makes me glance at him. “Have I told you that you were great as Eliza in My Fair Lady?”
“Only a million times,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Thanks, I adored doing it.” Amy blushes, more deeply than before.
“That’s magenta,” Meg says, pointing at Amy’s cheeks.
As we all laugh, a key turns in the front door. A gust of cold air is followed by Dad’s heavy tread. Lighter footsteps follow in his wake. The four of us in the living room fall silent. I hold my breath, waiting, both wanting and dreading them coming in. Part of me is desperate to know if Beth’s going to be all right. But part of me would rather wait, put the moment off – in case the news is bad.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” I hear Dad saying.
“Bed or sofa downstairs?” Mum asks. She sounds cheerful, but then she always does, even when things are bad.
“Downstairs, definitely,” Beth says.
A second later she appears in the living-room door. Her eyes fall on the tree.
“Oh,” she says, clasping her hands together. “That’s so pretty.”
“How was it?” I ask.
The room throbs with the tension. Mum appears behind Beth. She’s smiling. Is that a good sign? Or a brave face?
“Mum?” Meg asks.
“Mum?” I echo, unable to bear it any longer. “What happened?”
She lays a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “I’ll let Beth tell you,” she says quietly.
Beth looks at us, smiling shyly. “The doctors say that they managed to catch the cancer at such an early stage that it’s gone into remission. I’ve still got to have more treatments but it’s good news.” She smiles again, a proper smile this time. “Really good news.”
There’s a moment of silence, then joy washes over me like a wave and I jump up, laughing and cheering and crying. Meg and Amy are too, the three of us hugging each other and Mum and Beth – and then, when Dad appears, all of us hurl ourselves at him.
At last peace descends and Mum and Dad retreat to the kitchen to make tea.
I’m still beaming at Beth, though Meg and Amy have sat down again. She runs her hand through her hair which is covered with a light brown fuzz.
“It’s starting to grow back.” She points at my scalp. “For you, too.”
I nod, my heart too full to speak. It hits me that this right here, right now, is what really matters: us, together, no matter how far our lives take us from where we started and whatever we find when we get there. I slip my arm around Beth and pull Meg and Amy towards me too. My sisters.
“Should I go?” Lateef asks, suddenly uncertain.
“Definitely not,” Beth says firmly. “You’re family too.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat. “You don’t get out of helping to decorate our tree that easily,” I poke him in the ribs, then turn to the tree, still propped up against the wall by the fireplace.
“We can’t leave it there,” Meg exclaims. “It’s too close to the gas fire.”
“It’ll look much better by the window,” Amy insists.
“Except then you won’t be able to get past it to reach the curtains,” I point out.
“How about moving it to the other side of the fireplace, nearer to the door?” Beth suggests.
“It’ll lose all visual impact,” Amy argues.
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t we put it right in the middle of the room, then?”
“And have us all trip over it every time we come in and out?” Meg says.
Beth laughs. “Lateef, why don’t you choose?”
Lateef looks alarmed. “Er, thanks but no. I’m not getting involved in a March girls argument. Just let me know when you’ve decided.”
And Beth laughs again as Meg, Amy and I all speak at once, our voices rising into the warm air, filling the house with the sound of home.
Acknowledgements
With thanks, as ever, to Moira Young, Lou Kuenzler, Julie Mackenzie, Gaby Halberstam and Melanie Edge.
Scholastic Children’s Books
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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2019
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd, 2019
Text copyright © Rosefire Ltd, 2019
Cover illustration copyright © David Wardle, 2019
The right of Sophie McKenzie to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.
eISBN 978 1407 18876 8
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