We had a lovely tea with egg salad sandwiches, home-made scones and raspberry jam, walnut cake with white icing and chocolate biscuits, all our favourites. Helen declared they were her favourites too, and begged Izzie for her scone and jam recipes.
Then we decided to watch a DVD all together and there was a huge discussion about the right film, but eventually Helen chose an ancient old Disney movie about a little elephant called Dumbo.
We all squashed up on the sofa to watch, but I sat on the arm next to Helen’s wheelchair so I could be the nearest to her. I hadn’t watched Dumbo for ages and ages. I was enjoying it quite a lot, until Dumbo gets separated from Mrs Jumbo. She’s put in a cage and Dumbo can’t get at her, though there’s a heart-stopping moment when they manage to twine trunks.
I suddenly went hot at the thought of little Dumbo’s mother torn away from him, and I couldn’t stop the tears spilling down my cheeks. We’d drawn the curtains in the living room so it was dark and I managed not to sniff. I hoped no one would notice. But Helen’s hand reached out and gripped mine and squeezed sympathetically.
Cecy was most reluctant to go home at bedtime. It took a long time to herd the littlies upstairs, and Elsie tried to hang on to Helen, wanting to curl up on her lap like a little cat. While Dad and Izzie were tucking them up, Helen said softly to me, ‘You must still miss your mother very much, Katy.’
‘I do, oh I do!’ I said.
‘I do too!’ said Clover.
‘Did you know I met her once?’ said Helen.
‘Really? When? Did you like her?’ I asked eagerly.
‘I loved her. Your dad and your mum came to visit me in Cambridge. I took them for lunch in the college and then we went for a stroll together. Well, they strolled, I wheeled. Your mum was the most amazing person to go on a walk with. She kept spotting little things that anyone else would miss – a weird gargoyle on an old building, two cats sitting on a windowsill like bookends, a very elderly couple punting on the river, maybe reliving their youth. She make up little stories about everything.’
‘Yes, she did, she did! I remember her doing that too,’ I said.
‘Yes!’ said Clover.
‘She looked so young too, not really old enough to be married. Your dad clearly adored her. His whole face lit up as he looked at her.’
‘I bet Dad misses her terribly too, though he hardly ever mentions her now,’ I said.
‘It’s because he has to be tactful with Izzie,’ said Clover.
‘It must be hard for Izzie, being a second wife,’ said Helen. ‘She’s lovely too, but in a different way.’
‘She’s OK because you’re here, but she doesn’t half nag and moan at us sometimes,’ I said. Then I felt mean and oddly disloyal. ‘But I suppose she does her best. And we can be a bit difficult. Especially me!’
Helen laughed. ‘I can’t believe that,’ she said.
Clover and I were allowed to stay up half an hour past our bedtime so we could talk to Helen, but eventually we had to go up to bed too.
‘I think Helen is my favourite grown-up person in the whole world,’ said Clover. ‘I wonder if she’d let me have a dab of her perfume tomorrow? She smells so lovely.’
‘I love her necklace, the little silver seahorse. I love her. Oh, I’m so glad she’s staying till tomorrow evening!’
I woke up quite early on Sunday morning. I wondered if Helen might be awake too. Perhaps I could take her a cup of tea? I crept out of the bedroom, careful not to wake Clover, and made my way stealthily downstairs. But Izzie was already in the kitchen stirring muesli and chopping fruit.
‘Oh! I wanted to make breakfast for Helen!’ I said.
‘What – pancakes?’ said Izzie.
I crumpled.
‘Sorry, Katy, that was mean,’ said Izzie. ‘Look, come here and cut the peaches. Only for pity’s sake don’t cut your fingers off too. I can’t face another four hours in A & E.’
I started cutting a peach but Izzie had given me a very blunt knife and I made a bit of a mess of it, practically having to squash the peach into submission. Izzie didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
‘OK, I know I haven’t made a good job of it,’ I said, licking peach juice from my fingers. It then ran all the way up my arm inside my pyjama sleeve.
‘Perhaps you’d better eat that one,’ said Izzie. She was busy creating a beautiful pattern of fruit over a bowl of muesli with a white Greek yoghurt topping.
‘Oh, that looks pretty,’ I said, munching.
‘I thought I’d make Helen a breakfast tray. Then she can have a little lie-in if she wants, rather than deal with all of us at once,’ said Izzie.
She was using the best willow-pattern blue-and-white china on a bright blue enamel tray. She set it with the decorated muesli, a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea.
‘Should I put a tiny vase on too, to make it look pretty?’ Izzie wondered. ‘Run into the garden, Katy, and pick one of the roses. Take the secateurs from the bag hanging on the door so you can cut it off neatly.’
I found the secateurs and went out the back door, on to the lawn. I was barefoot and the grass was wet, but I rather liked the feeling. Tyler was out there, running around happily after being let out for his morning wee. He wanted to play, so I threw an old ball for him until I heard Izzie calling impatiently.
I went to the rose bush – but then saw the fuchsias, Helen’s favourites! I carefully cut off a small stem so that she could have a whole mass of bright, drooping flowers. I thought how pretty and original they would look on the bright blue breakfast tray and ran indoors happily.
‘Whatever have you got there?’ Izzie sounded impatient. ‘I sent you out to get a rose, for goodness’ sake. Can’t you tell the difference between a rose and a fuchsia?’
‘Yes, of course I can, but I happen to know Helen vastly prefers fuchsias. They’re her very favourite flowers. So let’s put them on her tray.’
‘You don’t generally put fuchsias in vases.’
‘There’s no law against it, is there? Look, they’re really pretty.’ I stuck the fuchsias in the glass vase. They didn’t look quite as pretty as I’d hoped. They were a bit too top-heavy for the small vase. I saw that a single rose would have looked much better, but I wasn’t going to back down now. And Helen would see that I’d remembered her remark and be pleased.
I seized the breakfast tray before Izzie could argue with me further. I hurried out into the hall with it, along the passage to the door of the library. My arms ached a little, but I held the tray steady, carefully balancing it so the fuchsia vase wouldn’t tip. I didn’t have a free hand to knock on Helen’s door, so I tapped on it quietly with my foot.
‘Come in,’ Helen called, sounding wide awake.
I was so eager to see her I didn’t set the tray down on the floor to open the door. Tyler had come bounding after me and might put his head in the bowl for a lick of the yoghurt. I held on to the tray with one hand and cautiously reached for the door handle with the other. I got it open, but then somehow the tray started tipping. I jerked it quickly, trying to save the vase of fuchsias, but it teetered and then fell, cold water and little flowers going everywhere.
‘Oh!’ I cried, so shocked that the whole tray slipped from my grasp and landed with a smash on the floor.
‘Oh goodness, is that you, Katy? Are you all right?’ Helen called.
‘Dear Lord, Katy, what have you done now?’ Izzie came running from the kitchen.
I sank down beside the spilt tray and started sobbing.
‘I told you to be careful!’ said Izzie. ‘Well, run and get a cloth, for goodness’ sake.’
I tried to mop up the mess but the water had sloshed everywhere.
‘Look, I’d better do it,’ said Izzie. ‘You go and apologize to Helen!’
I crept mournfully into Helen’s room. She was propped up on her pillows, smiling at me so sympathetically.
‘Oh Katy! Were you bringing me my breakfast?’
‘The vase
tipped! It was the fuchsias – I picked them because you said they were your favourites. Now I’ve made such a mess. I’m so hopeless!’ I wailed.
‘Never mind. You were just trying to be kind to me. And anyone can drop a tray. I’m forever dropping things,’ said Helen.
‘Yes, but that’s because your poor hands don’t work properly,’ I said.
‘Well, my arms can still give good hugs. Come here!’ Helen held out her arms and I ran to her and wept on her shoulder. I was hugely taller than Helen but in her arms I felt as little as Phil.
‘There now. I dare say Izzie will be kind enough to make me another breakfast. Perhaps you can ask for a breakfast tray too and then you can tuck up beside me and we’ll keep each other company.’
Izzie made another beautiful bowl of muesli for Helen – and one for me too. ‘Though you don’t deserve it!’ she said, shaking her head.
It was bliss to sit on the bed beside Helen and talk together. I told her a bit about school and she agreed that Eva Jenkins sounded a royal pain, and that Ryan was good fun.
‘Will you go to this park with the skateboard ramps?’
‘You bet I will, though I’ll have to get round Dad and Izzie first, because they confiscated my skateboard. I so miss it. I just love that feeling that you’re flying along …’ I suddenly stopped, realizing I wasn’t being tactful.
‘Don’t look so worried, Katy. I sometimes wish I could do all sorts of things, but skateboarding isn’t high on my list,’ said Helen, laughing. ‘Now, you scoot for a bit while I get myself washed and dressed.’
‘Can I help in any way?’ I asked eagerly.
‘I’ll manage. I think you’d better sort out the children. There’s a lot of thumping on the stairs!’ said Helen.
It was Jonnie in her Spiderman pyjamas dragging Zebby all the way downstairs. Dorry was bumping himself down on his bottom behind her, step by step. Phil was whizzing up and down on his kiddy scooter on the landing, stark naked, with his pyjama trousers on his head.
‘Jonnie, are you mad? You’re bashing all the paintwork. Take Zebby back!’ I said.
‘No, he wants to come and have breakfast with Helen!’ Jonnie insisted.
‘Well, he’s not allowed.’
‘Zebby doesn’t like you any more,’ said Jonnie, and she poked me with one of his legs. ‘There, he’s kicked you now!’
‘Ouch. Stop it! And Dorry, get up, you’ll bruise your bum, you little silly.’
‘I’m working out how to get downstairs if your legs don’t work, like Helen’s,’ said Dorry.
‘And I’m being Helen,’ Phil called. ‘This is my scooty wheelchair and this is my lovely long hair … Look!’ He stroked his pyjamas coyly.
‘You’re all total little nutcases,’ I said, but I couldn’t help laughing at them.
I was in such a good mood now that I encouraged them all back upstairs and supervised them getting washed and dressed. Clover was awake now and I told her about the unfortunate mishap with the tray.
‘But Helen was extra-specially lovely about it and she says I can come back when she’s got washed and dressed to help her in any way.’ She hadn’t exactly said this, but I so wanted her to that I believed it.
‘Oh, can I help her too?’ asked Clover.
I struggled. I always loved sharing everything with my special sister, but I wasn’t sure that included Helen, who in one day had become the most important person in my world.
Clover was gazing at me wistfully with her beautiful blue eyes.
‘Of course you can,’ I said. ‘But just us. Not Elsie or the littlies. There’s not room for everyone to cram into her room, and I’m sure Helen wants a bit of peace.’
But when we went downstairs, steering the littlies towards breakfast in the kitchen, we found that Elsie was already in Helen’s room, actually brushing her shining black hair with a silver-backed hairbrush.
‘Elsie, what on earth are you doing here! You mustn’t disturb Helen. Go and get washed and dressed at once,’ I said.
Elsie pouted.
‘Helen said I could come in. She wanted me to. And she likes me doing her hair, don’t you, Helen?’
‘Yes, I do, darling,’ said Helen cheerily. ‘You’re making a very good job of it too. You’re better than a proper hairdresser. I’m so lucky to have three lovely girls at my bidding! Clover, could you possibly find my perfume spray and give me a little squirt on my wrists? And Katy, I know you have nimble fingers. Could you put my little silver seahorse chain round my neck and fix the clasp for me? That would be wonderful.’
Elsie nodded at me triumphantly, brushing carefully. I’d have normally been infuriated, but Helen was too clever at distracting us all. Clover sprayed perfume and was allowed a little squirt herself. She kept sniffing her own wrist ecstatically. The seahorse necklace was very delicate and the clasp a difficult one, but I managed to do it up first time.
‘I think I need to take all three of you home with me,’ said Helen.
‘You’re not going home already, are you?’ Elsie wailed. ‘I want you to stay and stay and stay forever.’
‘Well, I’m staying until late afternoon,’ said Helen. ‘And now we’re all such good friends, perhaps your father might drive you all to Cambridge to see me sometime?’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful!’ I said. ‘You ask him for us, Helen. You seem to have the knack of making everyone do whatever you want!’
Helen did ask him, that morning, and he smiled at her happily and said he’d love to bring us all, so long as it wouldn’t tire Helen too much.
‘And perhaps you can do one little favour for me while you’re here?’ he said. ‘I’d love you to meet a small patient of mine, a little boy called Archie who’s been very ill with rheumatoid arthritis. His parents have been pretty despairing. I’d give anything for the family to meet you for five minutes, just so they see you can still lead a full, worthwhile life living with the after-effects.’
Helen agreed happily. We all wanted to come too, not willing to lose even a few minutes of time with Helen, but Dad wouldn’t let us.
‘It’s not fair. I know they’ll be much longer than five minutes. Dad always takes ages with his special patients,’ I grumbled.
‘That’s what makes him such a good doctor,’ said Izzie. ‘Now, I have an idea. Why don’t you all use this time to make a special card for Helen, telling her how much you’ve enjoyed her visit?’
Just occasionally Izzie has good ideas. I got my drawing pad and generously tore out a page for everyone. I even folded it carefully in two for the littlies. Then we all sat at the kitchen table drawing and colouring with Clover’s nearly new set of felt tips that she got for her tenth birthday.
Phil finished his card first. It was a portrait of Helen, though it was hard to distinguish her from all the other people he drew. He just did a round blobby body containing eyes and a nose and a smiley mouth, with stick arms and legs – but he added a big scribble of black felt tip on top, to indicate Helen’s hair. He can’t write properly yet, so inside his card I printed
To Helen,
Love from
and then he scrawled an approximation of Phil, with a huge capital P and lots of dots over the i for good measure. Then he commandeered the felt-tip box and rearranged all the colours and got ratty when we needed to use one.
Dorry’s card was inventive – and food-orientated. It said down one side
Dear Helen,
I love you
more than …
and then down the other side he drew all his favourite foods: turkey and roast potatoes and ice-cream cones and boxes of chocolates and cupcakes and cookies.
Jonnie drew a picture of Helen sitting on Zebby, with a speech bubble coming out of Zebby’s mouth:
I only let two people sit on me – Jonnie and HELEN!
Elsie drew a picture of herself and Helen going for a walk together hand in hand, and underneath she wrote in her cramped little writing
We are Best Friends aren
’t we.
She’s not very good at drawing. Dorry and Jonnie are heaps better than her, though they’re much younger.
Clover drew an absolutely magnificent card and coloured it in beautifully. She’s the only one of us who managed a real likeness of Helen. She even did a perfectly proportioned wheelchair with wheels that looked really on the ground, somehow remembering exactly what it looked like. She didn’t try to include herself in the picture, but she did an artful frame all round the card edge of little four-leaf clovers. She wrote inside
To dear Helen,
With lots of love and luck
from Clover
I felt my own card looked very childish by comparison. I’d tried to draw Helen as a fairy godmother, thinking along the lines of Glinda in The Wizard of Oz, but my version of Helen looked more like the Wicked Witch. I kept making her nose too long and pointy and then rubbing it out, so that the paper went all smudged. I wrote inside
You are a truly magical person, Helen,
and I’ve so enjoyed your visit,
Love from Katy xxx
but this seemed a bit of a silly message too. I wondered about starting all over again, but I heard Dad’s car drawing up outside and there wasn’t time.
The visit had been a big success. Helen had bonded with little Archie, Dad’s patient, and had promised to stay in touch.
‘You’ll stay in touch with us too, Helen, won’t you?’ said Elsie.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I consider all of you practically family. And I’ve got presents to prove it!’
She’d stopped off at the shops with Dad on the way home and had a bulging carrier bag. There was a big bunch of beautiful blue flowers – irises and agapanthus and blue-pink roses – for Izzie and a bottle of wine for Dad. Then there were three cuddly toys for the littlies, each carefully chosen. Phil had a lion with a smiley face and a lovely soft mane; Jonnie had a zebra cub with big eyes, a baby for Zebby; Dorry had a bear with a big fat tummy that growled when you squeezed it.
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