Anthem for Jackson Dawes

by Celia Bryce

  Kipper blinked into the light, took one look at Brian’s new home and her face changed into something quite ugly. She let out a shriek, ran at the garden, and thumping her fist down on to the trees, flattened them one by one.

  ‘No!’ she cried with each thump. ‘No. No. No.’

  It took only seconds to turn Brian’s garden, with all of its colour, into a muddy mess.

  Six pairs of eyes blinked, gazing curiously at the mess on the table and the destruction of the garden. Kipper’s mum came over, slowly, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

  Nonplussed, Megan rescued the cat but only by a second. ‘What’s the matter? I thought you’d like it. Doesn’t Brian like it?’ She waved the cat in front of Kipper’s face, which was spotted with angry red blotches.

  ‘No. He hates it.’ She swiped the Play-Doh cat out of Megan’s hands and threw him to the floor and, with her perfect pink slippers and glittering toes, stamped him flat.

  Megan sat with her mouth open and no idea what had gone wrong. Nurses came running. The Play specialist began to clean up the mess.

  ‘Come on, love,’ Kipper’s mum said. ‘Megan’s spent all that time making it. Just for you. That’s not a nice way to behave.’

  ‘Don’t want it. It’s stupid.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Megan said. ‘I was just bored. Just playing. It wasn’t very good or anything.’

  Kipper stood there staring at the mess and began to cry.

  Her mum took her by the hand. ‘Come on, love. Time for a rest, I think.’

  When she was finally persuaded to go back to her bed, she curled up on it, still crying, as if the whole world, once again, had collapsed around her and was as flat and messy as Brian’s garden.

  Later, Kipper’s mum knocked on Megan’s door. ‘Just came to say sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Honestly.’

  ‘Don’t know what gets into ’er. One minute she’s fine and the next … Thinks she can do whatever she likes, that girl. I get so mad with ’er …’

  Megan smiled. ‘It’s being in here. It’s all the treatment and everything. I wish I could do what she does half the time. And maybe she thought I’d put too many trees in the garden. I mean, Brian could have climbed up any one of them and got lost. And no fire engine to rescue him.’

  Kipper’s mum shook her head but gave a half-laugh. ‘You’re a noodle, you are, just like that Jackson. But thanks, anyway. She likes you, just as much as she does ’im. She’ll miss you when you go.’ A shadow swept across her face then, as if the mention of home was just another thing to worry about. ‘Best get back to ’er. Lord knows what she’s up to.’

  ‘Will she be going home soon?’

  Kipper’s mum pressed her lips together and seemed to have to think of an answer. ‘They’ve got a few more things to try. ’Er bloods are all to pot and, well, who knows. See you, love. Tek care of yourself.’

  Next morning, Megan sat with her suitcase in the visitors’ waiting room while Mum spoke to Sister Brewster. Her bed was stripped bare, the locker emptied, every little indication that Megan had stayed there for almost one hundred and twenty hours had been cleared away, as if a huge vacuum cleaner had come in and sucked it all up.

  One hundred and twenty hours.

  And it had taken just half an hour to clear it out for the next patient.

  Home.

  Gemma and the Twins, now that they knew she was on her way, were sending texts like they’d just been invented. They were dying to see her, the Twins said. What a funny word to use. In the circumstances. They wanted to know about doctors. Male doctors to be precise. And did she fancy any of them? Which said everything about them.

  came from Gemma, which said everything about her.

  ‘Right, Megan.’ Sister Brewster stood at the door. She looked even taller – maybe it was the low seats in the waiting room. ‘You’ve got your return date, so we’ll expect you then. Any questions?’

  ‘Will Jackson be here when I get back?’ Please let him be back next time. If cancer didn’t get her, boredom might.

  Sister Brewster pondered. ‘Off the top of my head, I can’t say.’ Megan must have shown her disappointment. ‘I know this place is not the same when he’s not here. It runs more smoothly, that’s for sure, but don’t worry, you haven’t seen the last of him! He’s in and out all the time.’ She clasped her hands. No more about Jackson. ‘So, home! Excited?’

  ‘It’ll be great to be in my own bed again.’ Megan tried to remember her room at home and couldn’t. She might have been away for years, not just days.

  She couldn’t remember the colour of her walls, or her duvet. Or the curtains or the pictures. It was all locked away somewhere in her head and wouldn’t come out.

  Maybe that’s the effect of having a tumour.

  Mind-numbing.

  Mum smiled. ‘I can’t wait to have her home, and we’re going to have a houseful!’

  Megan looked at her. ‘How come?’

  ‘That’s a secret.’ Mum grinned.

  A small commotion outside made them turn to the door. It was Kipper. She was wearing a bright red woollen hat. Her mother was pushing her in a blue wheelchair.

  ‘Is Megan going?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Megan made her way to the door. Kipper looked very small somehow, her skin so pale it might almost not be there. ‘I was just coming to see you, to say bye-bye. Where’re you going?’

  ‘She’s going to …’

  ‘Mam! Megan’s my friend,’ Kipper said, her voice sharp. Her mum looked away, her cheeks flushing. ‘I’ave to go to X-ray.’

  So at least they were still friends – she was forgiven for making the garden and too many trees for Brian to climb. If that’s what it was. She was absolved from the crime of trying to cheer up a little girl and failing miserably.

  ‘X-ray? So we all know what that’s like …’ Megan said.

  ‘Boring.’

  Sister Brewster smiled. ‘Well, Megan has to get home now, Kipper. Off you go!’

  The young girl gave a wave and ordered her mum to push her down the corridor.

  Eight

  There were balloons on the door. Three bright yellow balloons with the words Welcome, Home, and Megan, drawn on them. Mum stood there beaming at her but moved aside with a wink. ‘The balloons weren’t my idea, by the way.’

  ‘So who …? Dad? Is he back?’

  ‘He’s got some leave and he’s going to be here in a couple of days, but no. It’s not his idea either. You’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s get everything in. You go ahead. And I want you to lie down on the sofa. You look tired.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘No arguments. I’ll get your bag from the car.’

  Megan opened the door and that familiar smell of home hit her. The lavender conditioner Mum used on the clothes, the polish she sprayed the furniture with. Everything sparkling and clean as if a special guest was arriving.

  Had she done all of this for her? Because she was home?

  Megan looked at the sofa. There was a pillow and a blanket already there. On the coffee table, her Friends DVDs. A bag of Liquorice Allsorts. Ready and waiting. As if she’d run away from home but had come back and everything had to be perfect, in case she ran away again.

  Oh, Mum.

  And she was puzzled. Where was everybody? There wasn’t a houseful at all. What had she been going on about before?

  ‘I’m just making a drink,’ Mum called through. ‘Want a cup of tea? Or cocoa?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Juice?’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum.’

  Megan stood in the middle of the lounge and listened to the house and all of its noises. She could hear children playing in the street, their shrieks and cries, their tussles with each other. She could hear a football being kicked about. She made her way to the window and looked out. The three kids from next door were playing with the two from Number 5. They pounded up and down the pavement until, shouting a wa
rning, they scattered like flies. The Bakers’ car was coming, turning into Number 19.

  She had just begun to babysit for the Bakers when her dizziness stopped her. Their daughter was two and a half and called her Melon, and whenever she did, Megan could only think of those big green and red ones with all the pips. The ones she hated.

  The Bakers had sent her a card from their daughter. It had lots of scrunched-up paper stuck on the front and a wild scribble of crayon inside. She’d stuck it to the wall behind her bed along with all the other cards. She had used Blu-Tack and when her cards came down, that last day, there were little blue remnants all over the place. She wasn’t sure what the cleaning staff would think of that.

  Megan counted the children outside. Ten of them now. She found herself wondering how many would end up in hospital with cancer, or if she was going to be the only one round here.

  Eeeny. She put her finger on the glass and pointed at the curly blond boy. Meeny. The red-haired girl. Miny. The dark-haired one with long pigtails. Mo … The car from Number 7 backed out of its drive. There was a warning cry and the children scattered like leaves. Mo … thought Megan. Me.

  It was Gemma who pushed open the door. It was Gemma who grinned and threw herself at Megan. ‘Hiya!’ she said, as if they’d never been apart, as if she hadn’t not visited her in hospital. As if there hadn’t been one hundred and twenty hours of no friends.

  The Twins hung back slightly, like two uncertain deer.

  So this was the houseful.

  ‘Hi, Megan. How’re you feeling?’ That was Frieda.

  ‘Good? Or bad? Do you feel bad? You look all right.’ That was Stacey.

  They were both frowning behind their fringes, as if saying just those few words was too hard, as if they weren’t used to talking.

  The Twins?

  Not used to talking?

  ‘I’m OK,’ Megan replied. ‘Are you not coming in?’

  The girls shuffled into the room. They were so identical that even their movements and emotions seemed synchronised. Today they appeared to be terrified and stared at Megan as if she were an unexploded bomb or had the plague.

  Gemma touched her arm in that quiet way of hers. ‘Was it horrible?’

  ‘No, not really … it was …’

  ‘We’re sorry we didn’t visit or anything but, anyway … We brought the balloons. Do you like them?’ Stacey looked as if the balloons were a bad idea.

  Megan tried to answer.

  ‘When’re you coming back to school?’ Frieda sprang into action. ‘You’ve missed so much work. Did they make you do any? Are you in tomorrow?’ She flopped into a chair.

  There was silence for a second. Megan wished it would go on for longer. She wished they’d all just go home.

  ‘She’s not going to be in tomorrow, stupid, she’s just got out of hospital!’ Stacey flopped into another chair.

  ‘Yes, but it’s PE.’ Frieda shook her head as if all sisters were stupid. ‘And we know what Megan’s like when it comes to that! Football …’

  They sat looking expectantly at her. Gemma said nothing, just played with her earring, rolling it around in her ear lobe.

  ‘I don’t think I can do it. I’ve still got a drip thing in,’ Megan said.

  The Twins blinked. ‘Where?’

  Megan patted her collarbone. ‘It’s in here. I have to keep it in till the treatment’s finished. I can’t get it wet.’

  ‘Ugh!’ There was an exchange of looks between the Twins. ‘But … it’s not finished?’ Frieda said.

  ‘Have they not got rid of it?’ That was Stacey.

  Gemma tutted. ‘She’s just on her first treatment. They told us at school, remember!’

  ‘Did they?’ Megan said. Then she remembered Mum telling her she’d gone to see the Head. But the thought of going back with everyone knowing …

  ‘Mrs Delaney’s had cancer and she said she had to have lots of treatments. So you might, as well. That’s what she told us.’ Gemma glanced at Megan. ‘Just to us, you know. To our class.’

  ‘Her hair fell out,’ Frieda said, sliding a look at Megan.

  ‘But you’d never know,’ said Stacey. ‘I’ve never noticed. Mrs Delaney’s hair’s always looked rubbish.’ A sideways glance at Megan.

  Even Gemma seemed curious.

  ‘It’s still all mine,’ she said, giving it a tug.

  The Twins breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good,’ they said. Up they got. ‘But we have to go now. Mum said we weren’t to stay long …’ They made a fuss of finding the present they’d brought. A box of chocolates. ‘Just in case we made you worse.’

  Megan had to smile.

  ‘So when will you be back?’ the Twins said.

  ‘Don’t know. Maybe next week. I’ve got the work they sent me.’

  ‘If you need any more, I can bring it,’ Gemma offered. ‘Any time.’

  The Twins were at the door. ‘You didn’t tell us about the doctors? Any nice ones?’

  Megan pictured the staff. Her drawings of them. The frog consultant, the long lanky doctor with spiky hair who looked like a sweeping brush.

  ‘Yeah. Loads,’ she said, ‘if you get bored gnawing your arm off.’

  There was a delicious moment of quiet after the front door closed – with a bang – behind the Twins. The whole house seemed to take a breath and sigh, then the normal sounds drifted back in. Mum in the kitchen. The clock on the mantelpiece.

  Megan curled up on the sofa with Gemma and watched a couple of episodes of Friends. They laughed at the bits they always laughed at and yet it didn’t feel all that funny. Not any more. They had such stupid things go wrong with them. They were like a walking problem page. None of it real.

  ‘Are you tired?’ Gemma asked. ‘I can stay. Or go.’

  Megan flicked off the TV. ‘I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been hit by something very big and very fast.’

  Gemma giggled. ‘That would be the Twins.’

  Megan smiled, but she was tired. She closed her eyes and thought about what to do for the rest of the day, the rest of the week and all the weeks till she went back into hospital and saw Jackson again.

  It was all mixed up. She never wanted to go back and yet where else would she see him? It was like watching a big black cloud inching nearer and nearer, but wanting it to come, wanting it to rain right on top of you, because you’d feel rain, you’d feel it on your skin and on your hair and it would be real.

  ‘I don’t think I can come back to school. Not yet. It’ll be like a class full of Twins.’

  Gemma was frowning. ‘Are you all right? Will I get your mum?’

  Not Mum. What she wanted right then was Jackson. ‘I’m fine. But I think I need to go to sleep. Is that OK?’

  ‘Course it is. I’ll go now. Ring you later?’ Gemma gave her a tight hug. It felt too tight, as if she were trying too hard.

  ‘I’ll ring you,’ Megan said. ‘I might sleep right through till tomorrow, I’m so whacked.’

  Or maybe till she could go back. Till she could see Jackson again.

  Nine

  But it wasn’t until her third treatment that she saw Jackson again and when she discovered him on the ward, in his old room, as if he’d never left it, Megan had to stop herself from smiling. This was right. This feeling. Just seeing him again.

  The last time she was in hospital hadn’t felt right at all, him not being there. Going home afterwards hadn’t either, or getting back to school, where she’d had to listen to the Twins going on about stupid stuff like clothes and getting their belly buttons pierced and that new maths teacher who was just gorgeous. And Gemma joining in as if that’s all she thought about too. It was rubbish. Everything.

  At least she was here now, trying to persuade Jackson to let her draw him.

  ‘I’ve done almost everyone else. Do you want to see them?’

  He didn’t show any interest. He just lay back on his bed, eyes closed. And he didn’t seem all that pleased to see her.

  For the first
time Megan wondered if he had a girlfriend, someone he’d seen when he was at home, someone lovely and healthy and not with cancer. Someone who didn’t remind him of what he had.

  Maybe cancer made you imagine that people liked you more than they really did. Megan tried not to think about that.

  ‘Well, can I draw you?’

  ‘Do I have to move?’

  Megan giggled. ‘No.’

  ‘OK, then.’

  Grandad had been asking about her drawings. He said while she couldn’t play football she should draw as much as possible. She could be a proper artist, if only she’d practise. And he wanted to see some of her pictures – she would have to send him a few. She could send him this one, of Jackson.

  ‘Ah, you’re here.’ Sister Brewster peered in. ‘Nice to see you back, Megan. What’re you up to?’ She gave them both a smile.

  Megan gestured at her sketch pad. ‘Jackson’s a rubbish model.’

  Sister Brewster didn’t seem surprised at that. ‘I’m glad I’ve got you both together, because, Jackson, if you’re planning any walkabouts this time …’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jackson said, not opening his eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘It would be really useful if you could just give us a hint. I know we’ve had it far too easy, these last few weeks, with you being at home, but easy is how we prefer it. And you could take Megan with you. Maybe she’ll keep you out of trouble.’

  There was a pause. A meaningful look.

  Megan frowned. Why was Sister Brewster going on like this?

  ‘So, what d’you say? Is that a plan?’

  Jackson didn’t respond. Either he didn’t want Sister Brewster on his case, or he didn’t want anyone to go with him on his travels, as if it might delay him, or make it more difficult.

  For a moment, Megan thought he was going to refuse. She gave him a prod.

  ‘OK,’ Jackson said, with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t bother with his usual grin, always at the ready to smooth things over. ‘So we’ll go later, to … the old part. Megan hasn’t seen it.’

  ‘That’s fine, but don’t be too long. Remember, we haven’t got the time or the staff to come hunting for you …’ Off she went.