The burn in my throat spread to my cheeks. They went from freezing cold to boiling hot in less than a millisecond. I stroked Roger’s head. Told him I loved him. Said I was sorry. He didn’t meow. I saw some tyre marks in the snow. Deep and short and diagonal, where someone had put the brakes on quickly and skidded on the road.
All the hurt turned into anger. With a shout of rage I jumped up and kicked the tyre marks. I stamped on them. Spat on them. Grabbed the snow in my hot fingers and threw it into the sky. I fell to my knees and punched the tyre marks as hard as I could and my fist hit the road and the pain felt good. The skin on my knuckles split open. I hit the road again.
If I hadn’t gone to the talent contest, Roger would still be alive. Last night I’d have noticed that he wasn’t in the cottage and I’d have gone to look for him and he would have come running up and he would have rubbed his body on my wellies and his fur would have glinted in the moonlight. But I’d been too busy worrying about Mum to worry about Roger.
I stopped thumping the ground. I stood up and my knees shook. I walked over to Roger and this time I didn’t feel scared of his dead body. I wanted to hold him. I never wanted to let him go. I wanted to give him a thousand strokes. A million cuddles. Say all the things I should have said when he could still hear my voice. I picked him up gently as if he was one of those boxes marked SACRED. His head flopped on his neck but I lifted it onto my shoulder. I pulled his body close to mine and stroked his fur. I rubbed his head and rocked him gently, like women do with babies.
I missed my cat. I missed him so much that the burn in my throat and the burn in my cheeks spread up to my eyes and burned them too. They started to water. No. Not water. Cry.
I cried. For the first time in five years. And my silver tears fell into Roger’s orange fur.
I HATED HOW cold he was. Roger had been outside too long. I unzipped my jacket and pulled him against my Spider-Man top. Then I zipped it up again to shelter him from the breeze and the snow that had started to fall. His head poked out of the top of my jacket and I kissed it gently. His whiskers tickled my lips.
I carried him home. I walked around all the icy bits on the road so that I wouldn’t slip. I couldn’t see the cottage through my tears but I walked up the drive and straight into the back garden. I was talking to Roger all the time now, telling him about the audition, how amazing Jas had been, how I’d understood the words of the song for the very first time and how they might have changed me. I told him I’d wanted to make Mum proud and that was why, that was why I’d shut him out of the lounge. I explained that I closed the door ’cos I was practising, and I wanted to impress Mum ’cos I was stupid, and I hadn’t realised it was pointless until it was too late. I whispered Mum’s a liar and she abandoned me and nothing I can do will ever make her love me. I wanted Roger to purr or meow so I knew that he forgave me. But he was silent.
I didn’t know what to do with my cat when I reached the pond. I didn’t want to bury him. I thought about his body under the ground, rotting away, and I was almost sick. I cuddled him hard, desperate to keep him just as he was, tight against my chest, bleeding all over my t-shirt.
But I knew I had to do something. Roger deserved a proper funeral. I thought about my sister on the mantelpiece. It would be nice to have my cat there too. I pictured an orange urn with Roger’s ashes inside. Then I could still talk to him and stroke him and hug him whenever I wanted. And all of a sudden I understood. All of a sudden I got it. Why Rose was in the urn on the mantelpiece. Why Dad found it too hard to sprinkle her in the sea. Why he gave her cake on birthdays, and why he fastened her seatbelt, and why he hung a stocking by the urn on Christmas Eve. It was too hard to let go. He loved her too much to say goodbye.
I fell to my knees and put my face in Roger’s fur and cried until I couldn’t breathe. My nose was running and my head was thumping and my face was swollen but I couldn’t stop. I heard a window open behind me. I heard Dad shout Jamie, get inside. It’s freezing out there. I didn’t move.
If I couldn’t have Roger, I wanted his ashes. I found two twigs and held one between my feet and used my right hand to rub the other against it. I cuddled Roger with my left arm and sang into his ear so he wouldn’t hear the sticks rub together and get scared. It didn’t work though. It was too wet for the twigs to catch fire.
I heard the back door open and I turned around. Dad. It’s freezing he said again, but then he stopped. Roger.
Dad pulled me to my feet and gave me the first hug that I can remember. It was strong and tight and safe and I pushed my face into his chest. My shoulders shook and my breath came in gasps and my tears made his t-shirt wet. He didn’t tell me to Sssh and he didn’t say Calm down and he didn’t ask What’s wrong. He knew it hurt too much to say out loud.
When there were no more tears left, Dad patted me on the back and unzipped my jacket. I didn’t stop him. He took Roger off me, gently slowly softly, and lowered him to the ground. He touched Roger’s eyelids and closed them carefully. The marbles disappeared. Roger looked like he was fast asleep.
Wait there he said. His eyes were sad but his mouth was determined. He disappeared inside the cottage. A minute later, he was back, carrying a spade and a small object that he dropped into his pocket. I started to say Cremate him but Dad said We can’t build a fire in the snow. I tried to pick Roger up, to take him away. I didn’t want my cat to be buried underground. Dad grabbed my arm and said He’s gone. He nodded his head, convincing himself of something. His eyes filled with tears but he took a deep breath and blinked them away. He nodded again as if he’d made a big decision. Started to dig. Said Whatever was there has disappeared. His voice was tight with a sadness I thought I understood.
It took a long time. The ground was hard. All the time Dad worked, I stroked Roger’s head, telling him again and again that I loved him. More tears filled my eyes and trickled down my face. I didn’t want the hole to get deep enough. I didn’t want Dad to finish. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Jas appeared at some point. I didn’t hear her. One minute she wasn’t there and the next she was crouched by my side, crying quietly, stroking Roger’s bloody fur. Her hair was bright pink again. She’d dyed it back.
Dad stopped too quickly. It’s done he said. You ready. I shook my head. We’ll do it together Dad whispered and he took the small object from his pocket. The golden urn. We’ll do it together.
Sometimes Mrs Farmer said it’s too cold for rain and that’s how Dad’s face looked. Too sad for tears. He walked over to the pond. Jas stood up and crossed her arms, hugging her own body. I lifted Roger. Dad opened the urn. The sun shone stronger than it had done all day. Light bounced off the gold urn, making it sparkle.
I walked to the hole. Dad emptied some of Rose into his hand. No. Not Rose. Rose had gone. Dad emptied some of the ashes into his hand. I put Roger into the grave. Dad took a deep breath. I took a deeper one. Everything was still for a few seconds. A bird sang and a breeze shook the bare trees. Dad let go of the ashes. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t need to this time. Rose left a long time ago.
The first ashes fluttered down to the pond, mixing with the snow that fell from the sky. They landed on top of the water and sank. I could see my fish swimming near the lily pad. I grabbed the spade and scooped up some mud. My hands were sweaty on the metal handle. I held the spade over the hole but I couldn’t turn it. I couldn’t drop the mud on top of my cat. Roger’s gone I told myself. He’s gone. That’s not him. Whatever was there has disappeared. It didn’t help one bit. All I could see was Roger’s black nose and Roger’s silver whiskers and Roger’s long tail and I wanted to get him out of the grave. I wasn’t ready for him to be dead yet.
Dad tipped the urn again. More ashes fell onto his palm. He clenched his teeth and turned over his hand. Rose’s ashes dropped into the pond. If Dad could do it, so could I. I tipped the mud into the grave.
I couldn’t look at Roger. I couldn’t watch his body disappear under dirt. I whispered I love you and You’ll always be m
y best pet and I will miss you and then I pushed mud into the grave as quickly as possible. I didn’t wait to see what Dad was doing. I knew that if I stopped even for one millisecond then I wouldn’t be able to carry on.
I patted down the top of the grave to make it all neat and flat. Then I dropped the spade as if it had germs or something. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I felt sick at myself, sick at the world, sick in my tummy and my heart and my head. Jas put her arm around my shoulder and held me as I cried. Roger was gone. I’d never see him again. This was too scary to think about so I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and forced myself to stare at Dad. He was still by the pond, still sprinkling Rose’s ashes into the water. Bit by bit.
I walked over to him, pulling Jas by the hand. We stood either side of Dad and watched the ashes fall. My fish was swimming in a pretty pattern, his tail wiggling happily, and some of the ashes landed on his golden skin and stuck to his shiny scales.
There was only one handful of ashes left now. The last few specks fell onto Dad’s palm. He lifted the urn and looked right into it, shocked there was nothing left. His hands shook.
Don’t I said suddenly. Don’t do it. Dad’s fingers curled around the last few ashes. What he said, breathing heavily, his face whiter than the snow all around us. Don’t do it I repeated. Keep those. Dad shook his head. Rose has gone he said with difficulty. He held the ashes up. These aren’t her. I stopped crying. I know I said. But they were. They were part of her body. You should keep them. Just a few. Dad looked at me and I looked back and something big zoomed between our eyes. He dropped the last few ashes inside the golden urn.
We were freezing so we went indoors. Dad disappeared upstairs for two minutes and Jas made three cups of tea. We didn’t speak as we drank them in the lounge. The mantelpiece looked empty without the urn. I realised Dad must have put it in his bedroom. Out of sight. But there if he needs it, which he will on the really sad days like September 9th. I know I’ll never forget that Roger died on January 6th for as long as I live, even if I have a billion pets, ’cos none of them will ever be as good as my cat.
When we finished our tea we just sort of stared at each other. Something big had happened to us that morning. Everything was different. And even though my tummy ached and my heart ached and my throat ached and the tears kept falling, I knew that the change wasn’t all bad. That something good had happened too.
Jas still didn’t eat. Dad still drank. But we stayed together all day. In the lounge. Not really speaking but not wanting to go to our bedrooms either. We watched a film. Jas asked me if I wanted to watch Spider-Man but I said No so she put on a comedy instead. We didn’t laugh, but we smiled at the best bits. And Dad told Jas I like your hair and when she said Thanks he replied You should keep it pink. And when it was time to go to bed and the stars shone in the sky like hundreds of cats’ eyes on a dark road, Dad gave me my second hug ever. It was as strong and tight and safe as the first. And as I lay under my duvet, missing Roger, wishing he was on my windowsill instead of lying underground, Dad came into my room with a hot chocolate. He put it in my hands and the steam felt nice on my face. This time the powder had been stirred right in.
SCHOOL STARTED AGAIN the next day. I kept expecting Roger to rub his body against my shins when I got out of bed, or jump onto my lap while I ate my Coco Pops, or twist his tail around my ankles as I brushed my teeth. The cottage felt empty without him. I felt empty without him.
Dad got out of bed in time to take us to school. He was a bit hung-over but it didn’t matter one bit. Dad’s not perfect. And neither am I. He’s trying, and that means everything. He hasn’t always done a good job but he’s done a million times better than Mum. He hasn’t abandoned us. He’s just sad about Rose and that’s fine. Having a cat killed is bad enough. Having a daughter blown to bits must be horrid.
When we pulled up outside school, Dad saw Sunya on the pavement. I could see his face in the mirror. He clenched his jaw but he didn’t shout Muslims killed my daughter or anything like that. He didn’t even tell me to keep away from her. He just said that he wouldn’t be home until six ’cos of work. Jas squeezed his arm and Dad smiled in a proud way and then he said Have a good day. You got an excellent report so keep it up.
I walked into school. I was still wearing the Spider-Man t-shirt, but not for Mum ’cos she didn’t send it. Roger’s blood had soaked into the material so I didn’t want to take it off. I know I must have looked like a murderer or something but I didn’t care. I wanted to be close to my cat.
Here comes sissy boy shouted Daniel down the corridor. He was standing outside the classroom with Ryan. I was scared but I didn’t go red or start shaking or run off. I walked towards them. Sissy boy in his sad Spider-Man t-shirt. They sniggered and did a high five in the air. I walked right underneath it. Daniel kicked me on the back of the leg and it hurt and I wanted to punch him in the face, but I didn’t want to get beaten up again. Daniel smirked like he had won and I thought about that tennis player that always comes second in Wimbledon, and for some reason that made me cross. My heart growled in my chest like an angry dog.
What a loser Daniel shouted so that everyone in the classroom could hear. I sat down next to Sunya and waited to see if she would glare at him or say something back. She shrank into her chair as though she was trying to hide. She didn’t even look in my direction. I wanted to ask if she’d read my special card. I wanted to ask if she’d seen the snowman that looked like her and the snowman that looked like me and if it had made her laugh. I wanted to ask why she hadn’t come to the talent contest, and I wanted to tell her all about it, how Jas had been brilliant and how I’d been brave enough to sing and dance on stage. But then I remembered that night in her garden and how she’d said My mum thinks you are bad news. So I didn’t say any of it. I just stared at my pencil case while Mrs Farmer did the register.
First we did English and we had to write about Our Fabulous Christmas and try to use paragraphs. Nothing fabulous had happened but I didn’t want to lie. So I told the truth. I wrote about the football sock full of all the things that Jas had bought me. I described the chicken sandwiches and microwave chips and the chocolates that we ate. I explained that the best bit was when we’d sung Christmas carols at the top of our voices. And at the end I wrote It wasn’t exactly a fabulous Christmas but it was good ’cos I was with Jas. It was my best piece of writing yet. When I read it out, Mrs Farmer said That was an excellent piece of work and my ladybird hopped onto leaf one. The angels had been replaced over Christmas.
After English we did Maths and after Maths we had Assembly. The Headmaster told us that the Ofsted Inspectors had given the school a grade and it was Satisfactory, which meant that we were doing okay but not brilliant. He said we would have got a Good but there was An Incident that upset one of the Inspectors. Mrs Farmer looked at Daniel and shook her head. Daniel’s chin slumped onto his knees. There was a flash in my direction. I looked up. Sunya caught my eye and for a millisecond I thought she was going to giggle. But then she turned away and nodded her head a few times as though she was really listening to the Headmaster’s talk on New Years’ Resolutions. He said Aim high this year and give yourself a challenge. Don’t just make a boring resolution like I must stop biting my nails, or I must stop sucking my thumb. Everyone started to laugh. The Headmaster smiled and waited for silence. Set a target that excites you. Even frightens you a bit. I knew what mine was straightaway.
At playtime I couldn’t find Sunya. I waited on our bench and I looked around the playground and I went through the secret door but she wasn’t in the storeroom. She must have been in the toilets hiding from Daniel ’cos she was scared. The dog in my chest growled louder than ever. We all went inside and we did History and Geography but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept trying to look inside Sunya’s pencil case to see if I could spot the Blu-Tack ring. I was wearing mine and I tapped the white stone on the table a few times to try and get her attention. Sunya didn’t look up from her books.
A
t lunchtime I didn’t hurry outside ’cos I hate standing by myself. I missed Roger too much to eat my sandwiches so I went to the toilet and played that game where the hand dryer is a fire-breathing monster. I was just taking it and taking it and being tough and I didn’t even scream when the flames burned off my skin and made my bones go all black.
I heard a voice outside. Not in the game but in real life. It was shouting. It was spiteful. And the words it said were Curry Germs. I looked out of the window. Daniel was following Sunya, yelling things at her back as she tried to walk away. He was with Ryan and Maisie and Alexandra and they were laughing and cheering him on. He shouted You stink and Curry Breath and Why do you wear that stupid thing on your head. He touched the hijab. Actually tried to pull it off. That’s when my heart roared. Louder than a dog. Louder than the fire-breathing monster in the toilets. Louder, even, than the silver lion in the sky.
The noise of it vibrated in my head and in my hands and in my legs. I didn’t even realise I was running until the door smashed against the tiles and I’d left the bathroom and was halfway down the corridor. I charged outside and screamed Leave her alone. People started to laugh. I didn’t care. I looked one way, then the other, searching for Sunya. I spotted her in the middle of the playground, her hands on her hijab, trying to stop Daniel from showing her secret hair to the whole school.
LEAVE HER ALONE.
Daniel spun around. He saw me and his lips stretched into a nasty smile. Come to save Curry Germs he said. He pulled up his sleeves to fight. Ryan looked fierce. I skidded to a stop and waited for my mouth to say Yeah I have come to save her, or Get out of my way, or something else that sounded brave. Nothing came out. I waited for my legs to walk forward so I could kick Daniel, but they were paralysed. More and more children were gathering around in a circle, everyone’s eyes on me.
My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece Page 15