He held his arm out like it was part of his head, opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and circled round us.
‘Shut your mouth, Kendall, we can see your tonsils,’ I said. ‘Hey, Harpreet, you should see my Auntie Barbara do her whale imitation.’
‘I like your auntie. So where is she today?’
‘She’s with my mum,’ I said. My voice went wobbly.
Kendall looked at me. He stopped being a shark. He put his hand in mine and hung on tightly all the way home.
I knew it was bad news the moment we got in the door. Mum was hunched up on the sofa, chin on her knees, all her make-up cried away. Auntie Barbara tried to smile at us but her eyes were red too.
‘Oh Mum!’ I cried.
She held out her arms and we went rushing to her. She cuddled us close, while Auntie Barbara hovered.
‘It’s awful news,’ said Mum. ‘The lump was cancer, and now it’s advanced. And it was in all the lymph nodes under my arm too. So I’ve got to have chemotherapy so I shall puke all the time and I’ll probably lose all my hair.’ She started weeping again.
‘You’ll look funny without hair,’ said Kendall.
‘Shut up. Mum will still look pretty no matter what,’ I said fiercely. ‘Just so long as she gets better.’
‘But will I get better?’ said Mum.
‘Of course you will,’ said Auntie Barbara.
‘And I could just as easily say of course I won’t,’ said Mum. ‘Do you know what the odds are, Lola Rose?’
‘Nikki, stop it. You shouldn’t tell her all this.’
‘Look, she’s my daughter. I’ll tell her what I want. I don’t have secrets from my kids. I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance, Lola Rose, even if I let them do all this chemo and radiation treatment. Fine sort of Lady Luck I am.’
I felt as if the Voice of Doom had burst out of my head and was booming the bad news from a loudspeaker. It was so loud I couldn’t think of anything else.
Kendall didn’t seem to understand properly and whined to watch television. He wouldn’t eat his tea and got very boisterous at bedtime, leaping about all over the place, refusing to put his pyjamas on. Mum yelled at him. Kendall burst into tears and wouldn’t stop. He screamed for hours until we were exhausted.
When he finally settled, still snuffling in his sleep, Mum got Auntie Barbara to go down to the off licence for a couple of bottles of wine. She drank steadily, swallowing the wine as if it was medicine, until her head lolled and her eyes closed.
‘Time you were asleep too, Lola Rose,’ said Auntie Barbara.
‘I don’t think I can,’ I said.
‘Come here.’ Auntie Barbara held me tight. I couldn’t feel safe even with her arms round me.
‘It’s so unfair,’ I mumbled into her shoulder.
‘I know, I know.’
‘I hate feeling scared all the time.’
‘It’s awful, isn’t it.’
‘I just want Mum to be better and Dad to stay away and for us to be happy, just like anyone else. And – and it’s so bad of me, but I feel so cross with Mum.’ I burst out crying. ‘I know it’s not her fault, she can’t help having cancer, but it’s like she’s spoiling everything. Oh God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. It’s wicked. I’m wicked.’
‘No, you’re just worn out with worrying, darling. You’re not wicked at all, you’re the best girl ever. I’m so proud of my special niece. This is the one great thing for me, you know. I’ve met up with you and Kendall again.’
‘Will you really stay with us?’
‘I’ll have to nip back home soon to sort out the running of the pub and get some more clothes and go to my bank but I’ll come straight back, I promise. I’ll be here for you, Lola Rose, no matter what.’
I put my hands either side of her big, sweet face. Her blue eyes stared straight back at me. I knew she really meant it. I leant against her and knew I loved her.
Mum’s treatment frightened me. She had to go to the hospital to have the chemicals dripped into her. Auntie Barbara stayed with her and drove her home. Then the sickness started. She had to have a bucket in bed because she couldn’t always get to the toilet in time. They gave her more drugs to stop the sickness but she still felt sick, yawning all the time, all white and sweaty and sad.
‘I’m being bloody poisoned,’ she groaned. ‘I’m sick of puking all over the place. I’m not going back to that hospital. I’m not going through with all this.’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘You’re going to have all the treatment and get better, do you hear me?’
‘I’d sooner take my chances,’ said Mum. ‘Poor as they are.’
‘Yes, but you can’t just think of yourself. There’s the kids.’
‘They’ll be better off without me,’ said Mum.
‘No we wouldn’t!’ I cried. ‘We need you, Mum.’
‘And I need you, darling,’ said Mum. ‘I love you, sweetheart, and little Kendall. I haven’t always been a good mum to you. Do you think getting ill like this is a punishment?’
‘No! You’ve been the best mum ever,’ I said.
‘I haven’t always been the best sister,’ said Mum, as Auntie Barbara held a cold flannel to her head.
‘True,’ said Auntie Barbara briskly. ‘But cancer cells don’t start multiplying just because you’ve been a bad girl in the past. Now stop whining and cuddle down and try and get some sleep.’
‘Bossyboots,’ said Mum. Then she reached out and grabbed Auntie Barbara’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, Barbs. For everything.’
‘I know. It’s OK. It was all over ages ago. You actually did me a favour.’
‘What favour? What did you do, Mum?’ I asked.
‘Never mind. Forget it,’ said Auntie Barbara.
‘I can’t forget it. What if I’m going to die? I don’t want to go to hell!’ Mum wept.
‘You’re not going to die. Not yet. Not for years and years and years,’ said Auntie Barbara firmly. ‘And what’s all this hell nonsense?’
‘Dad said I’d go to hell.’
‘Oh well, Dad was a warped old beggar.’
‘I thought you and Dad were always so thick. You were always the favourite,’ said Mum.
‘Why did Grandad say you’d go to hell, Mum?’ I persisted. ‘Because you ran off with Dad?’
‘I ran off with Barb’s boyfriend first,’ said Mum.
I stared at Auntie Barbara.
‘He was her fiancé. Michael. They had the wedding all planned, honeymoon booked, everything finalized. And I was going to be the bridesmaid,’ Mum howled.
‘In a lilac dress with freesias in your hair,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘And I was going the whole hog, marrying in ivory lace, with a bouquet of purple freesias and white roses. I was much too big for white lace even in those days but I was on a strict diet, scheduled to lose three stone in three months. Yep, it was all planned, every detail.’
‘You didn’t plan for me to ruin it all,’ said Mum. ‘I didn’t even like him much. I thought he was a bit boring really.’
‘He was boring,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘I always knew exactly what he was going to say.’
‘But you didn’t know what he was going to do.’
‘Well, certainly, he didn’t seem the type to go after my little sister.’
‘Did you love him, Auntie Barbara?’ I asked.
‘Maybe I thought I did. At the time,’ she said, sighing.
‘I didn’t mean things to get out of hand,’ said Mum. ‘I was just having a little flirt with him. Only things kind of escalated.’
‘You were only sixteen. You were just messing about. I blamed Michael more than you.’
‘Why wouldn’t you take him back? He begged you. He never really stopped loving you, couldn’t you see that?’
‘I’m not so sure. Anyway, it was beside the point. I stopped loving him. I didn’t want him any more.
‘Maybe you’ll meet someone else, Auntie Barbara,’ I said.
‘I don�
�t think I want anyone now,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘I like being on my own, totally independent. I would have loved children though.’
‘Well, you can share mine,’ said Mum. ‘And if I don’t make it—’
‘Stop it.’
‘You will make it, Mum.’
‘If You’ll look after the kids, Barbs?’
‘You know I will.’
‘Jay might make more trouble.’
‘I’ll sort him out,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘And I’ll sort you out too if you don’t stop rabbiting. You need some sleep.’
Mum kept to her bed for a few days. We tiptoed round the flat. Kendall had to keep the television turned right down. We couldn’t always turn him right down too. He kept crying over the slightest thing.
‘Couldn’t you try to be a good boy, Kendall?’ I begged him.
‘No, I want to be bad,’ said Kendall.
He kept pestering me while I was working on a very special get well card for Mum. I’d designed a beautiful country landscape with bluebirds and apple blossom and newborn lambs and a stream with white swans. I’d cut out four figures walking into the sunset hand in hand – Mum, Kendall, Auntie Barbara and me. I used up the whole of a Cadbury’s chocolate wrapper for Auntie Barbara’s purple party frock. I stuck little pink feathers round Mum’s shoulders to make a furry jacket and sequins on her feet for sparkly shoes.
I stuck her a bit too high up, so that she floated a few inches above the ground even after I turned her shoes into very high stilettos. The feathers looked a bit odd too. They looked too much like angel’s wings.
‘Let me see,’ said Kendall. ‘Let George see too, Lola Rose.’
‘Look, get that filthy toy out of my face,’ I said irritably. George was covered in jam and glue and general grime. ‘He needs a wash.’
‘He doesn’t like washes. He wouldn’t mind a proper swim though. Can we go and see the real George soon, Lola Rose?’
‘No, of course we can’t. Not with Mum so ill.’
‘Auntie Barbara could take us.’
‘She’s looking after Mum, you know she is.’
‘You could take us.’
‘Oh yeah, sure.’
‘Why won’t you? Is it because you’re scared?’
‘Shut up, Kendall. Quit bugging me. Go and see if Mum’s awake and wants a drink.’
Auntie Barbara was taking a nap too because she’d been up with Mum half the night.
‘I don’t want to see Mum. She’s scary now.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘She could be sick on me.’
‘No, she won’t. I think she’s stopped being sick now.’ She’d eaten boiled eggs and toast and then soup for lunch and kept them all down.
I warned Kendall I’d throw George in the rubbish if he dared touch my get well card and went to check on Mum myself. She was propped up on her pillows, having a cigarette.
‘You shouldn’t be smoking, Mum!’
‘Why? Will it give me cancer?’ she said, laughing at me.
Auntie Barbara stirred. She was wedged tightly into the armchair, her head resting on her arms.
‘I think she’s stuck there for ever!’ Mum whispered. ‘She’ll have to walk round with a great big chair stuck on her bum.’
‘Mum! You are dreadful!’
‘Yeah, yeah. Hey, Lola Rose, I’m starving. What can I have to eat?’
‘I could make you boiled egg and soldiers.’
‘I’m sick of all that kiddie muck. How about running down the chippy, eh?’
We still didn’t have any money of our own so I had to take Auntie Barbara’s purse out of her bag. I knew she wouldn’t mind.
I skipped like a little kid down the road to the chip shop. I came charging out holding a big, warm, greasy bag of chips – and barged straight into Ross.
‘Hey, it’s little Lola Rosy Posy. Coming for a snog, then?’
‘No thanks,’ I said dodging past.
I ran up the road, my feet barely touching the pavement, like Mum’s stilettos in my picture. Mum seemed so much better. She was over the worst now. Wasn’t she?’
I woke in the middle of the night. I could hear footsteps, whispering, groaning. I slid out of bed and ran into the living room.
‘Is Mum sick again?’
Auntie Barbara was bending over Mum. ‘She’s very hot,’ she said. ‘Put the light on, Lola Rose, so I can have a look at her.’
I put the light on. Mum seemed OK at first glance, pink cheeks, bright eyes. Too pink, too bright.
‘She’s got a fever. I think we’d better get her to the hospital,’ said Auntie Barbara.
‘No, no, I hate that hospital,’ Mum mumbled.
‘You’re ill, lovey. You need to get that fever down,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘Help me bundle her up, Lola Rose. I’m going to drive her to the hospital.’
I wrapped the duvet round Mum. She was burning hot but shivering.
‘What the bloody hell is wrong with me now?’ she wailed.
‘It’ll be your white blood cells. I’ve been reading up about cancer treatment,’ said Auntie Barbara, wringing out a cold flannel and putting it on Mum’s forehead. ‘The chemo’s knocked them for six so you haven’t got any resistance to infection.’
‘You’re such an old brainbox,’ said Mum. ‘So what happens next, Dr Barbs? Is it curtains?’
‘Of course not! You’re such a drama queen. You’ll be better in no time,’ said Auntie Barbara, though she didn’t sound too sure.
‘Kiss Mum goodbye, Lola Rose.’
I kissed both her hot pink cheeks. ‘You are going to get better, Mum. You have to.’
‘Yeah. We wish,’ said Mum.
Auntie Barbara lifted her up in her arms as if she were a baby. She carried her out the front door and down the stairs to the car. I watched from the window as Auntie Barbara got her car door open and stowed Mum carefully in the back seat. They drove off. I watched the red back lights. Then I watched the darkness where they’d been. The Voice of Doom started up.
That’s the last time you’ll see your mum.
‘Shut up. That’s rubbish. You’re rubbish. Auntie Barbara said she’s going to get better.’
She would do, wouldn’t she? But you know she’s wrong. Your mum’s going to die.
‘She’s not, she’s not, she’s not,’ I said. I put my hands over my ears but it was inside my head.
She’s going to die and there’s nothing you can do about it.
‘I’ll wish, I’ll pray, I’ll promise anything.’ I thought of all the fairy tales I’d read at school, the dangerous quests, the impossible tasks. ‘I’ll do anything.’
Anything at all?
‘Yes, anything!’
Right. What are you most afraid of?
‘My dad?’
He doesn’t scare you so much now.
‘Then . . . what?’
What gives you nightmares?
‘Sharks.’
You got it. So go back to the aquarium. Stand at the shark tank. Lean against the glass so they swim right up close.
‘I can’t!’
Stay there and count sixty seconds. And again and again, sixty times, till you’ve stayed a full hour.
‘But I’ll scream. I’ll be sick. I can’t!’
Not even to save your mother?
I knew the Voice wasn’t real. I knew it was me, making it all up. But I couldn’t control what it was saying.
I thought of those great fishy heads gliding past, those awful staring eyes, the rows of jagged teeth. I started shaking as if they were swimming just the other side of the window. I couldn’t do it.
Yes I could. It wasn’t much to ask. Any other child could do it, easy-peasy. I had to try for Mum.
I went to the sofa bed and buried my face in Mum’s pillow, breathing in her sweet, musky scent. Auntie Barbara came back as dawn was, breaking. Her face was screwed up. When she saw me she tried to smooth it out into a smile.
‘It’s OK, Lola Rose. Mum�
�s being looked after in hospital. They’re pumping antibiotics into her.’
‘I’m not going to school today. We’ll come to the hospital, Kendall and me.’
‘You can’t, my love.’
‘Yes we can!’
‘No, Mum’s being nursed in a side room. You can’t see her in case you pass on another infection to her.’
‘Did I give it to her then?’ I asked, appalled.
‘No! Well, it could have been any of us. Your mum’s just so vulnerable at the moment.’ Auntie Barbara struggled, shutting her eyes. ‘I’d give anything to make her better, Lola Rose.’
‘Do you love her, Auntie Barbara?’
‘Of course I do!’ said Auntie Barbara, wiping her eyes.
‘But she was awful to you. She stole your boyfriend.’
‘Yes she did. She was very naughty even as a little girl. I had a special china doll with a long silky crinoline and a parasol—’
‘I’ve got a picture of one. I love those dolls!’
‘Well, your mum cut off all her golden ringlets and scribbled blue biro tattoos all over her arms. She said she’d turned her into a punk. I made a fuss, even though I was a bit old for dolls by that age. Dad heard me and saw the doll and then he laid into your mum. He was so hard on her. I cried buckets because it was my fault your mum had red slap marks all over her legs. Yes, I’ve always loved her. Like you love Kendall.’
‘I don’t think I’d love him if he mucked up my doll.’
‘Yes, you would. You’d hate him but you’d love him too. It was awful when I lost touch with your mum. And now that I’ve found her . . .’ Auntie Barbara let her voice tail away. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m so glad I found her. And you and Kendall. Now, darling, we’d better go to bed for an hour or two before we have to get up again for school.’
Auntie Barbara set her alarm clock but didn’t stir when it started ringing. I switched it off quickly. I got Kendall washed and dressed and then organized myself.
‘Where’s Mum?’ he asked. ‘She hasn’t died already, has she?’
‘Kendall! Shh! No, she’s had to go back to hospital because she’s got a fever.’
‘Is she going to die there then?’
‘No! She’s not going to die – how many more times? Now, we’re going to have breakfast quietly, OK? We don’t want to wake Auntie Barbara.’
Lola Rose Page 19