by Linda Green
‘But Lake District’s supposed to be lovely. I’ve seen it on TV and it always looks nice.’
‘Haven’t you ever been?’
‘No.’
‘Not even to the Beatrix Potter Museum?’
‘Nope.’
‘I’ve been to the Beatrix Potter Museum at least five times that I can remember, and I probably went before that too. I thought everyone had been there. Where do you go for your holidays, then?’
‘I don’t,’ she says. ‘I’ve never been on holiday.’
I stare at her, wondering if she’s joking, but she hasn’t got a joking face on.
‘Never?’
‘Holidays cost money,’ she says. ‘Money we’ve never had.’
‘Oh.’
I feel a bit bad now for saying I didn’t want to go to the Lake District. I look up at Kaz as the thought comes to me.
‘You can come with us,’ I say. ‘I’ll ask Dad. I’m sure he won’t mind.’
Kaz looks down at her empty plate. She looks a bit sad.
‘Thanks, pet,’ she says. ‘It’s right nice of you to ask but I can’t go.’
‘We’ll pay,’ I say. ‘It won’t cost you anything.’
‘I can’t leave our Terry, see,’ she says.
‘But I thought he was in hospital.’
‘He is, but I still visit him every day.’
‘Isn’t there anyone else who can visit him?’
‘No, pet. I’m only visitor he gets.’
I’m surprised to find there is anyone with fewer friends than me. Terry must be very weird indeed.
‘Oh, right. I could send you a postcard.’
‘That’d be nice,’ she says, before she stops for a moment and looks a bit serious. ‘Actually, don’t worry with that, you’ll be too busy for postcards. Just tell me all about it when you get back. I’ll look forward to that.’
I nod, still trying to get my head round the fact that there are people who have never been to the Beatrix Potter Museum.
*
On Wednesday morning, the day we are supposed to be going to Castle Howard, Lottie gets dumped at our door. It’s not like I didn’t want to see her or anything. Just that it is unexpected.
Dad opens the door and I rush out, thinking it will be Kaz, but it’s not, it’s Rachel and Lottie.
‘Hi Finn, hi Martin,’ says Rachel. ‘Unexpected emergency. Two of Lottie’s cousins have come out in chickenpox this morning, which means she can’t go to my sister’s because she’s never had it. And we’re already two down at work and I’m chairing an important case meeting at nine thirty so although I wouldn’t normally do this to you, I hope you don’t mind . . .’
‘No, it’s fine,’ says Dad.
‘Brilliant,’ says Rachel, kissing Lottie, pushing her towards us and already heading for the car.
‘Kaz is looking after me and we’re going to Castle Howard. Can Lottie come too?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ yells Rachel, fishing in her handbag before running back to us and thrusting a twenty-pound note into my hand.
‘Is that enough?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Brilliant. She’s got fig rolls in her bag. You like fig rolls don’t you, Finn?’
‘I think so.’
‘Fantastic, have a great time,’ she says, dashing back to the car. ‘Martin, please say thank you to Kaz. I owe you both a massive favour. Sorry to dump her on you like this.’
She jumps in her car, gives a quick wave and is gone.
‘Hi Lottie,’ I say, grinning at her.
Lottie shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe I’ve just been dumped on your doorstep.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I say.
‘It’s no problem Lottie,’ says Dad. ‘I’ll go and do some extra sandwiches.’
Lottie groans as he leaves. ‘Mums can be so embarrassing.’
She appears to realise as soon as she says it.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Wasn’t thinking. Shall we start again and pretend it was all arranged?’
‘We can do, if you like.’
Lottie ushers me inside. I shut the door and she waits a second before ringing the bell.
‘Hi Finn,’ she says when I open it. ‘I’m looking forward to our trip to . . .’ She frowns as she tries to remember.
‘Castle Howard,’ I whisper.
‘Yes, Castle Howard. Why are we going there again?’
‘Because it’s one of Alan Titchmarsh’s favourite gardens.’
‘You really are weird, aren’t you?’ says Lottie, shaking her head.
‘Yep. Good weird, though.’
‘Absolutely,’ she says with a smile.
I am just about to finally let Lottie in when Kaz arrives.
‘Hi Kaz,’ I say. ‘Lottie’s coming with us too because her cousins have got chickenpox. Her mum says she owes you a massive favour.’
‘Nonsense,’ says Kaz. ‘It’s no problem. Just means we’ll have an extra lass to keep you in check.’
She pulls a face at me. Lottie laughs.
‘I’ve got fig rolls with me,’ she tells Kaz.
‘Even better. Are we off then?’
‘You just need these,’ says Dad, coming to the door and handing Kaz the packed lunches. ‘Should be enough in there to keep you all going. Are you sure you’re OK with this, Kaz?’
‘Aye, it’ll be fun. You get off to work.’
‘Have a good trip then,’ he says. ‘And don’t steal any of their roses.’
I smile at him. That was almost funny. I’d forgotten he could almost be funny.
Dad has given me the Family and Friends Railcard to look after. It is weird, because I have only ever used it before with Mum. It feels kind of wrong to be using it without her. But I try to think that, as Kaz and Lottie are friends not family, I am using a different part of it.
I’ve packed a big notebook and pencils for drawing, in the hope that Kaz will draw me some pictures, and the train and bus times, which Dad printed off the internet for me, because it turns out Kaz hasn’t got the internet. She hasn’t got a computer and she hasn’t even got a smartphone. I thought I was the only person in the country without a smartphone, so I am glad to have found someone else. I wonder if that is why Kaz and I get on so well, because she is a bit weird like me.
‘Do you mind not having a computer?’ I ask Kaz, as we all sit in the waiting room at Halifax station.
‘You don’t miss what you’ve never had,’ she replies.
‘Don’t you?’ I ask.
‘No,’ says Lottie. ‘I’ve never missed having a dad because I don’t know what it’s like to have one.’
‘There you go, see,’ says Kaz.
‘But how do people send you emails?’
‘They don’t but I have got an email address now. Woman at library set one up for me. They’re good there. Right patient with folk like me who don’t know what they’re doing.’
‘Can I have your email address, please?’ I ask. ‘So I can email you a photo from my holidays.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ says Kaz. ‘Let me see if I can find it for you.’
She rummages in her purse and pulls out a crumpled slip of paper with it written down on.
‘Here you go,’ she says, handing it to me. I take my notebook out and carefully copy it down and hand her the piece of paper back.
‘Go to the library and check your email next week,’ I say. I’ll send you a photo every day, then it will be like you’re on holiday with us.’
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘That’ll be grand.’
‘Are you going to send me photos too?’ asks Lottie.
‘If you like. What do you want photos of?’
‘Anything but gardens,’ she says.
*
‘I’ve never been to North Yorkshire before,’ Kaz says, as she sits down next to us.
‘Not even for a day trip?’ I ask.
‘Nope. Never been outside West Yorkshire. Surprised they didn’t ask for a passport.’
She smiles as she says it, so this must be a joke.
‘The kids at school thought I was weird because I’ve never been on a plane,’ I say. ‘But I have been abroad. We’ve been to France four times on camping holidays, but we always went by car because it was easier for Dad to take his bike.’
‘Have I missed much in France, then?’ asks Kaz.
‘Not really. It didn’t rain as much but their shop on the campsite didn’t have very good food. Not unless you like smelly cheese.’
‘Don’t suppose they had Yorkshire Tea either.’
‘No. Mum took our own teabags.’
‘There you go then,’ says Kaz. ‘Better off staying at home. Have you been abroad Lottie?’
‘Only twice to France with my mum. We went on the Eurotunnel.’
‘Is that good?’ asks Kaz.
‘Yes but the sandwiches are rubbish.’
‘See,’ says Kaz. ‘I really am better off at home.’
*
A little bit later we are standing looking at the massive house at Castle Howard, which looks like a palace to me.
‘Tell you summat,’ says Kaz. ‘I wouldn’t fancy cleaning all them windows.’
‘No and there’s a lot of lawn to mow,’ I say, looking across the grass. ‘I know we can’t afford a sit-on lawnmower for our garden, but I bet they have one here.’
‘I’m not stealing a sit-on lawnmower for you,’ says Lottie.
Kaz laughs. ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Before you two get me into trouble. Where do you want to go first?’
‘I think we should go and find the delphiniums, because Alan says in his book that they are at their best in July.’
Alan is right; the delphiniums are very pretty. There are loads of them in the borders, every colour you can think of. We find the rose garden too. Only it isn’t just one; there are four of them and they have more varieties of roses in them than I have ever seen in my life. I start writing down the names of the ones I like best in my notebook. That’s when I see it.
‘Look,’ I call over to Kaz, pointing at the large pink rose bush in front of me.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s the Alan Titchmarsh rose. I’ve never seen it before. Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘It is,’ she says. ‘Lovely colour. If they named one after me, it would have to be all pale and droopy and past its best.’
I laugh. ‘No, it wouldn’t,’ I say.
‘What would it look like then?’
‘It would be yellow and have petals you could plait.’
Kaz is laughing now. We both laugh together. It feels like a very long time since I last laughed.
Lottie comes over to us from the far end of the rose garden.
‘Can we have our lunch now?’ she asks. ‘I’m starving.’
So we sit in the rose garden next to the Alan Titchmarsh rose to eat our sandwiches and I can’t help thinking it’s the next best thing to meeting the real Alan. And if he was here, we wouldn’t have enough fig rolls for two each, so maybe it’s just as well he’s not.
When we have finished eating, I get out my sketch pad and pencil and hand it to Kaz.
‘Can you draw me a picture of the rose garden, please?’ I ask. I want to remember exactly what it looks like.
‘But you’ve got a picture in guidebook.’
‘I know but I want this one to go on my wall.’
I stand with Lottie behind Kaz and we watch as she draws. Lottie turns to me and whispers, ‘She’s brilliant.’
‘I know. I told her she should have been an artist, but she said she couldn’t because being an artist doesn’t pay the rent.’
‘It does if you’re Banksy,’ Lottie replies.
‘Who’s Banksy?’
‘He does secret street art. People wake up in the morning and find he’s drawn a massive picture on their garage.’
‘Doesn’t he get in trouble for that?’ I ask.
‘No, because he’s famous.’
‘So how does he make money from drawing on people’s walls?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘But he does.’
Kaz turns round and hands me the finished picture.
‘Will that do you?’ she asks.
‘Thank you, it’s even better than a photograph. I think I’ll get a frame for it.’
‘It’s only a rough sketch,’ she says.
‘I know, but you did it.’
She bends over and kisses me on top of my head.
‘I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’
I smile at her and can’t help thinking that she can’t have had a very nice life.
AFTER 8
8
Kaz
By Wednesday the following week I am missing the boy so much it is ridiculous. I can’t even take my mind off it by cleaning the flat, as I only have a room to clean now and it’s a pretty small room at that. Hopefully it won’t be for much longer, though. I’ve given up on getting anything from the council. I’m on waiting list but I’m not a priority and there are loads of families with kiddies in front of me. But now I’ve got two jobs, I’m trying to cobble together enough money for the rent deposit I’ll need to get a new place. It won’t be much, but I need somewhere for Terry to come home to. I’ll pretend we had to move out of our old flat because the landlord put up the rent. I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I’m still too ashamed of what happened. He won’t like the fact that we’ve moved, I know that. He’s never been good with change. But I’m hoping having his old TV and video player back will help soften the blow. I may not be able to win him over, but I can usually rely on Matthew Kelly to do the job.
I go downstairs to wash out the cleaning things I’ve been using. It’s on my way back that I see the little pile of post on the table by the front door. A letter addressed to Terry is on the top. I know straight away it is either from the police or the DWP. I had to give them both my new address for Terry, because I couldn’t afford to have post redirected.
I pick it up and see the West Yorkshire Police logo. I have been dreading this moment. As much as I’ve tried to push it from my mind, I’ve had nightmares about visiting Terry behind bars. About him going into prison and never coming out again. Because he wouldn’t survive in there. I’m pretty sure of that.
I take the envelope straight back up to my room and close the door before sitting down on my bed and opening it. My hands are already shaking. I start reading. There is a lot of stuff about the Mental Health Act and detailed psychiatric reports. And then I get to the important bit. The part where they say the Crown Prosecution Service have decided that in light of the psychiatric report they have received, it is not in the public interest to press charges and therefore no further action will be taken.
I collapse down on the bed, a jibbering mess. Terry’s not going to prison. He’s not even going to court. He hasn’t got to go through that, and I haven’t got to watch him suffer. I shake my head over and over again, unable to believe that something has finally gone right. I’m still fucking furious because it should never have happened in the first place, but at least it stops here. All I need to do now is try to undo all the damage it’s caused. Terry’s got to get well enough to come home. And I’ve got to get him one.
*
Doctor Khalil is
in reception when I arrive at the hospital.
‘Can I see you for a minute, please?’ I ask.
He nods and leads me through to his office. We both sit down.
‘I just want to say thank you,’ I say. ‘Terry’s had a letter from police and they’re not going to take him to court because of psychiatric report you did.’
‘Well, that is good news. Are you going to tell him now?’
‘Yeah, he hasn’t said owt about it lately but that doesn’t mean he’s not been worrying about it. He’s good at keeping his worries to himself, is our Terry.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ Doctor Khalil says with a smile. ‘Although there is some other good news. He asked me if we could start to reduce his medication this morning.’
‘Did he? That’s a good sign, for him to be thinking positive like that. What did you tell him?’
‘His condition has stabilised and his responses in the Cognitive Behaviour Therapy sessions have been much more positive of late, so I said that if we continued to see an improvement this week, we’ll start a gradual reduction from Monday. And we’ll be looking to move him to Kingfisher ward as well.’
I smile. It’s what I’ve wanted to hear for so long.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I just want him to get back to normal now. His normal, not everyone else’s normal.’
*
Terry is sitting in his chair when I go into his room. He looks up at me. Gives a glimmer of a smile. Even manages a quietly muttered, ‘Hiya, Sis.’
I sit down on his bed.
‘I hear you’ve been talking to Doctor Khalil,’ I say.
‘I don’t want to carry on like this,’ he replies, ‘I’m like living dead.’
‘He says he’ll let you cut down meds, as long as you do it carefully.’
‘Yeah. It’ll take longer than I want, mind.’
‘I know, love. But at least you’re on right road. That’s most important thing. And he says they’re looking at moving you to Kingfisher ward.’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘I hope I get a room with a view of car park.’
I smile and shake my head. ‘Anyway, love, I’ve got some more good news for you today.’
Terry looks up at me, waiting for me to go on.