Katy

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I spent a long time deliberating on how to sign off. I was too shy to put Love, Katy. It seemed too silly and formal to put With best wishes, let alone Yours sincerely. In the end I just typed my name. I added one x, then removed it, then at the last second put it in again as I sent it.

  I got a reply in a matter of minutes.

  Definitely Poor Crip Girl is second-worst person in world. You’re still a total amateur in meanness next to the warped and evilly twisted Mad Crip Guy. I just reduced Jasmine to tears – lovely Jasmine, the sweetest of them all. If I’d bad-mouthed old Jeannie Big Bum it wouldn’t be so bad.

  Don’t beat yourself up about it. How are you doing anyway? They’re talking about me going home soon too. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, with parents fussing and fretting. But it’s totally crap here too, especially since you went home. No one fun to talk to!

  Dexter x

  He’d sent me a kiss too! And he’d made it plain he was missing me! I felt so cheered that I yelled out to Izzie and Elsie that I was sorry, and acted like St Katherine for the rest of the evening – but the next morning I felt as mean and mad as ever.

  When she came back from ferrying the children to school Izzie tried to get me interested in her stupid handbags. They were made of very soft suede or leather, with appliquéd flowers added on top. They were much too posh and girly for my taste, but Izzie sold quite a few at craft fairs.

  ‘I want to do a special wintry design with sprigs of holly and mistletoe instead of flowers. I think they’ll sell really well at the big Christmas craft fair at the garden centre,’ said Izzie. ‘Do you think you could help me with them, Katy?’

  ‘What, you want me to come along and act like a Victorian waif? I’ll be the pathetic little crip girl in her wheelchair: “Oh please buy my stepmummy’s handbags so I don’t have to sell matches on the street.” ’

  ‘Katy, don’t! I didn’t mean that at all, though if you wanted to come I think you’d quite enjoy yourself. No, I meant perhaps you could help me make my bags.’

  ‘What, use your machine?’ I did get vaguely interested then. Izzie wouldn’t ever let any of us go near her special sewing machine.

  ‘No, not my machine – well, not unless I give you lessons with lots of supervised practice first. Would you like to learn to use it?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, just to stop her getting all eager.

  ‘Anyway, what I’d really like is for you to cut out some of the leaves and berries for me. I’ll make a template and then all you have to do is cut round it. It’s quite hard cutting leather, but I’ve got very good scissors.’

  ‘Oooh, cutting out! And I’m to be trusted with real scissors! Are you sure you can trust me with them? Perhaps I’d better use Phil’s plastic ones with the rounded ends? We don’t want the little crip girl to cut her fingers off too, do we?’

  ‘For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you, Katy?’ Izzie said, her face flushing.

  ‘What’s the matter with me? Oh, let me see … Could it possibly be because I’m stuck here in a wheelchair being nannied by my stupid stepmother and my whole bloody life is ruined?’ I said.

  ‘What about my life?’ Izzie shouted. ‘I don’t want to fuss round you all day long. You act like a spoilt little cow the entire time. You’re hateful to me; you’re hateful to your brothers and sisters; you’re hateful to everyone. I know you’re desperately unhappy, of course you are; I’d give anything to make you better. But I can’t. I know you don’t like me, Katy. We’ve never got on – though I’ve tried and tried. You think I’m trying to take your mother’s place, but I don’t want to do that. I just hoped we could be friends, get close somehow. Fat chance of that! Don’t help me with my bags then. Don’t do anything. Just sit there and be spiteful.’

  She ran out of the room. I sat there, shaking. I’d never seen Izzie lose her temper before. When she was cross she generally became even more controlled. It was shocking to see her shouting, with spittle on her lips, tears in her eyes. I could see just how much I’d really hurt her.

  I told myself I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt her. She was right: I didn’t like her. Why should I have to try to love her just because she’d married my dad?

  But I still felt dreadful. She was right. I was spiteful. I could feel the spite in me, bubbling away. I wanted to hurt everyone because I was hurting so.

  I thought Izzie might leave me alone all day. I wouldn’t have blamed her. I heard her in the living room, talking to someone on the phone. I went cold all over. She was telling Dad how mean I’d been. Dad was still the only member of the family I tried hard with, apart from Tyler.

  Oh Tyler! He had been so excited to see me come home, had licked me all over for a full five minutes, and I had cried with joy to be with him again. I’d had visions of him becoming a special assistance dog who would sit on my lap all day and run and fetch me things when I commanded him. Tyler ran – but he didn’t come back. He jumped up on me frequently when I was in bed or stuck in my chair, but then he bounced off again and stood staring at me with his head on one side, clearly wondering why I wasn’t jumping up to play with him. He was fine when he was sleepy and would come for a cuddle, using me like a favourite old pillow – but when he was wide awake he made it plain I was no fun any more.

  I still tried hard, inventing new games and treats, but he hung out with the other children when they were home, treating me very much as sixth-best.

  Izzie’s voice was still murmuring away. I strained to hear what she was saying. I knew she was talking about me; I heard her say ‘Katy’ several times. Then she said something like, ‘Thank God you’re coming to see her.’ She was talking to Dad! She’d summoned him home from the surgery, something that only happened in dire emergencies. What if she’d said she couldn’t look after me any more? I didn’t want her to care for me – but who else would do it if she wouldn’t?

  I sat despairing, hearing her go into the kitchen. Then she came into my room with two cups of tea.

  ‘I think we both need to calm down a bit,’ she said, giving me one.

  ‘Were you phoning Dad?’ I asked.

  ‘No!’ she said.

  ‘Really? I know you were going on about me. I could hear a bit.’

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t talking to your father. He’s worried enough about you already. Now drink your tea,’ said Izzie.

  She’d brought me a couple of Party Rings biscuits too, my favourites. I nibbled and sipped. I started to try to think of a way of saying sorry that didn’t sound too sickening. I went hot with embarrassment but I knew I had to give it a go.

  ‘I – I didn’t really mean what I said,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ said Izzie. ‘And I meant what I said too. We’re both worn out with trying to cope. I suppose it’s only natural we get fed up with each other.’

  ‘I do like you. Sort of. It’s just …’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you don’t actually like me. You can’t do. Because I’m so difficult.’

  ‘Yes, you are difficult. Bloody difficult,’ said Izzie. It was the first time I’d ever heard her swear. ‘But I do like you, Katy, a lot of the time.’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘Well, I’m not a saint,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘If you must know, it was Helen.’

  ‘Oh goodness!’

  ‘I was a bit worried about phoning her in case she was in the middle of a tutorial or something, but luckily term hasn’t started yet so she had time to talk. I thought she might have some advice. Maybe she could think of some way of helping you learn to cope.’

  ‘She didn’t ask to speak to me?’ I said, feeling disappointed.

  ‘She’s coming to speak to you in person,’ said Izzie. ‘She said she’ll cancel a couple of things and come tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh goodness. To stay?’

  ‘No, she’s making a day trip. Driving all the way from Cambridge to see you and then going b
ack again after a couple of hours. She really cares about you, Katy,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Oh.’ I swallowed. ‘Izzie, thank you. Thank you for phoning her. It was really thoughtful of you.’

  I felt almost happy for the first time since the accident. Fancy Helen coming all that way to see me. Just me.

  Dad grew fussed about it when he came home from work. He was in a bad mood anyway, because his receptionist had been a bit high-handed with his patients and they’d had a row. Now it looked as if another row was brewing.

  ‘You might have talked it over with me first, Izzie. Why on earth did you pick tomorrow? I’ve got several case conferences. I’m not going to be able to take any time off at all.’

  ‘Well, Helen will be coming to see Katy, not you,’ said Izzie.

  ‘And haven’t you thought about Helen’s workload? I’m sure she’s desperately busy too. It’s a bit much to expect her to drop everything,’ Dad said.

  ‘She sounded as if she really wanted to see Katy,’ said Izzie.

  ‘But you could have asked her to phone or email – or what about Skyping?’ said Dad. ‘I don’t see why you’re so worried about Katy anyway. She’s doing fine. She’s getting her strength back, she can manoeuvre her wheelchair about brilliantly, she’ll be ready for school soon. She’s starting to adjust; she’s always reasonably cheerful and positive –’

  ‘With you,’ said Izzie. ‘Not with anyone else. There’s no need to tell me off like a naughty schoolgirl, Alistair. I’m trying to do what’s best for Katy. Helen made a wonderful impression on her. And I thought as Helen herself has come to terms with her own disability she might be able to help Katy.’

  ‘Katy’s only met her once. And so have you. Why didn’t you wait to ask me to phone her? I’ve been her doctor all these years.’

  ‘I know she’s your special star patient, Alistair, but when she came to see all of us she became a family friend. Why are you being so awkward? I don’t see why I have to consult you over everything. I’m the one who looks after Katy. I haven’t heard you offering to give up your job to care for your daughter.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t compare making a few handbags to my profession!’

  I sat listening, holding my breath. I’d always wanted Dad and Izzie to have a real fight. Normally I’d have been one hundred per cent on Dad’s side. But he was being really unfair to Izzie. I was scared she might tell him just how difficult I’d been with her ever since I came home from hospital, but she didn’t tell tales. She went into the kitchen and slammed the pots and pans about, while Dad went into the living room and shouted at Jonnie and Dorry because they were playing Shipwreck, turning half the chairs upside down.

  They came trailing into my room, very indignant.

  ‘Dad was very mean to us, Katy. He stopped us playing Shipwreck and yet he always let you and Clover play it,’ Jonnie wailed.

  Oh, those long-ago imaginary games! Clover and I had pretended so vividly that we actually saw turbulent turquoise water instead of beige Axminster, and Dad’s big armchair was the tragic sinking Titanic and the cushions our life rafts. I wished I still had that power so we could play the Katy-Walking game.

  ‘We went to tell Mum but she was cross too and she wouldn’t let us stay and do cooking, even though she knows it’s my all-time favourite thing,’ Dorry whined.

  ‘You don’t like cooking, Dorry; you like tasting,’ I said. ‘Look, why don’t I read you two a story? What would you like?’ I peered at the old children’s books on the library shelf. ‘I know, let’s read a Mary Poppins chapter.’

  I read them my favourite ‘Topsy-Turvy’ story. I wished Mary Poppins really could have the power to whisk me up to the ceiling. Not being able to walk wouldn’t be so bad if I could bob about above everyone’s heads whenever I fancied.

  I felt very proud of myself, diverting my little brother and sister, and I happily let Phil come for the story time too, though he fidgeted an awful lot and kept singing garbled versions of ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’ and ‘Let’s Go Fly a Kite’ because he only knew the Mary Poppins film.

  I hoped Clover and Elsie would come and listen too, and then it would be just like old times, but they were up in my bedroom playing their own games. They didn’t come down until Izzie called that supper was ready.

  ‘I’ll wheel you into the kitchen, Katy,’ said Clover.

  ‘I can wheel myself,’ I said. ‘So what have you two been up to?’

  ‘Oh, we’ve been having such fun, Katy. Clover and me were being pop stars and we have our own dance routine to our music. Do you want to see?’ said Elsie, flushed with excitement. ‘Listen: We are the dancing girls, twirl, twirl, twirl –’

  ‘Stop! You’re doing my head in already,’ I said. The Pop Girls game had been one I’d made up, and Clover and I were a singing trio along with Cecy. I’d even invented that embarrassingly stupid song. I didn’t want to play Pop Girls now – I felt far too old – but I didn’t want them to be playing it without me either, especially when the littlies forgot all about me and Mary Poppins and wanted to be in the Popchicks band too.

  So there were three of us in a bad mood at supper. I left half of mine, even though it was fish pie and I usually begged for seconds, especially the crunchy, cheesy topping.

  ‘You see? Katy’s not even eating probably. She’s thin as a rake,’ said Izzie.

  ‘She’s always been naturally thin,’ Dad snapped. ‘Leave her be.’

  ‘And I’ve always been naturally big, so why won’t you leave me be and let me eat heaps of everything?’ said Dorry.

  Dad and Izzie would have usually laughed at this, but they both sat there po-faced and didn’t respond.

  Clover nudged me. ‘What’s up with them?’ she mouthed.

  ‘Izzie asked Helen to come tomorrow and Dad’s all narked because he didn’t want to bother her,’ I whispered.

  ‘Helen’s coming! Oh hurray!’ Clover exclaimed.

  ‘Oh great, great, great! I can’t wait to show Helen my diary. I’ve kept it every day, just like she said I should,’ said Elsie.

  ‘I got bored keeping my stupid old diary – but I’ll show her my special secret recipe book,’ said Dorry.

  ‘Perhaps I can borrow Zebby back just while Helen is here, Katy. I know he’d like to meet her again,’ said Jonnie.

  ‘Helen, Helen, Helen! She reads better stories than you, Katy!’ said Phil.

  ‘You’ll only see Helen for an hour or so. If that,’ said Dad. ‘She’ll have to go all the way home again, and if she’s got any sense she’ll leave long before it gets dark. She’ll be exhausted doing that journey in a day.’

  He looked at Izzie reproachfully and she tightened her lips and did her best to ignore him. When she helped me settle down for the night I suddenly took hold of her hand. We’d never kissed goodnight, not even when I was tiny. I always flinched back if Izzie’s head came anywhere near me. But now I hung on to her hand and squeezed it tight.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, meaning thank you for calling Helen, thank you for not telling tales about me, thank you for everything you do for me every day.

  Izzie didn’t speak, but she squeezed my hand back and for a few moments we stayed clasping each other, closer than we’d ever been before.

  Because he was in such a bad mood I wondered if Dad would even bother to duck in to say goodnight, but he came in quietly a few minutes after Izzie had switched my light off.

  ‘You still awake, pet?’ he whispered. I loved it when he called me pet. It made me feel so small and special.

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘I’ve just come to say goodnight. And to say sorry I’ve been so grumpy.’ Dad sighed heavily and sat on the side of my bed. He stroked my tangled hair. ‘I know I’ve been horrid, especially to poor Izzie.’

  ‘Why don’t you want Helen to come and see me, Dad?’

  ‘I do, I do. I just don’t want her to get exhausted. And – I don’t know – I suppose I like to think she’s my special f
riend, which is ridiculous, I know.’

  ‘Oh Dad!’ I understood entirely. I always wanted Clover to be my special sister, Cecy to be my special friend, even Tyler to be my special dog.

  ‘And I was annoyed with Izzie for making this cry for help, because we’re doing all right, aren’t we, Katy? I know Mr Pearson was very pleased with the way you’ve bounced back from the physical trauma. That’s why they let you out of hospital so early.’

  Dad seemed desperate for reassurance, so I gave him a hug.

  ‘So you’re doing fine physically, managing everything you need to do. But Izzie thinks you’re not so good mentally,’ Dad went on.

  ‘Oh well. You know me, Dad. I’ve always been a bit mental,’ I said, trying to joke.

  ‘Oh darling! Obviously you’re going to feel very upset and angry at times, but do you feel absolutely despairing about everything?’ Dad asked, sounding almost fearful.

  Of course I feel absolutely despairing! I wanted to shout. I feel it’s the end of my world. I’m never going to be me again. I can’t do anything any more. I’m so miserable I can’t stand it.

  But I knew Dad couldn’t bear to hear that.

  ‘I suppose I’m OK, Dad,’ I mumbled. ‘But I really would like to see Helen.’

  ‘Of course you would, pet. Well, I hope you have a lovely time together.’

  I felt so excited the next morning. For once I didn’t moan during the long washing, dressing, toileting, breakfasting process when Izzie was back from taking the others to school. I was happy to wear one of my new T-shirts and my smartest joggers. I even let Izzie fiddle around with my hair and tie it up in a topknot.

  ‘Where’s that lovely seahorse necklace that Helen gave you?’ Izzie asked.

  ‘Oh! I – I’m not sure. Never mind. It’d look a bit odd with a T-shirt, wouldn’t it?’ I said quickly.

  ‘I think it would look lovely. And Helen would be touched to see you wearing it,’ said Izzie. ‘It’s not in your shell box? Well, it’ll be upstairs in your old bedroom. I’ll run up and have a look for it.’