Diary of a Parent Trainer

by Jennifer Smith

  Still, Stuart looked hurt when she said he was not a patch on our dad. No wonder he didn’t feel like a custard cream.

  We left Jack at Great-Grandma Peters’s house to keep her company (he was not at all pleased), then dragged Stuart over to Nan and Granddad Williams’s house.

  “Maybe that’s enough visiting,” he said hopefully. But Auntie Julie was marching on ahead, not listening to a word he was saying.

  Granddad Williams was out at his garden, so we were at the mercy of Nan. We sat in her front “best” room, which is full of memorabilia of the Royal Family. Stuart stared at the collection of jubilee plates covering the walls and ornaments on every available surface.

  Because Nan’s a smoker, the house stinks of cigarette smoke. We hardly notice it since we’re used to it, but Stuart started coughing as soon as we walked in.

  “I love our Royal Family,” said Nan Williams as she brought Stuart his second cup of tea of the afternoon, “particularly Queen Elizabeth. She is a wonderful woman. She’s got a sense of duty, she has.” She looked pointedly at Stuart when she said this. This was the first time she’d seen him since we’d told her that he never visited his parents, all part of the Cunning Plan.

  “So you work in the minimart,” said Stuart, between coughs. “That must be interesting.”

  “It keeps me busy,” said Nan Williams, lighting a cigarette and sitting back in her chair. “As they say, ‘The devil makes work for idle hands.’ I clean too. They don’t call them the filthy rich for nothing! Now, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something that has been troubling me.”

  “Fire away!” said Stuart.

  “I’ve heard that you never go and see your poor parents from one Christmas to the next. Has there been some sort of a falling-out?”

  “No,” said Stuart, switching into Irritated Mode.

  “You may think that’s enough,” said Nan Williams, “but it’s not. You seem like a nice enough young man, but what sort of person has no time for their family?”

  Stuart stood up.

  “I think we’d better go,” he said, frowning and not meeting Nan’s eye. Which made him look shifty.

  “Well, maybe you should,” said Nan Williams, standing up and blowing an indignant puff of smoke right into his face.

  When we got out of her house, Stuart said quite firmly, “Let’s get back and see how your mum’s doing.”

  “But … we can’t go back yet,” said Auntie Julie frantically, “they’ll need longer to get ready. How about one more visit? Let’s go to Susan and Dave’s—they live just round the corner. We’ll get you a beer. I think you could use one.”

  So, on the strength of a beer he probably felt he needed, Stuart was persuaded to go to Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave’s house.

  Auntie Julie kept encouraging all the Grown-Ups to drink wine and beer, and then, when they were relaxed and off guard, cleverly turned the conversation to my dad, Uncle Dave’s little brother.

  Of course Uncle Dave’s eyes misted over, and he told a few stories about my dad growing up. And then Auntie Susan had a few things to say about Mum and Dad and how they met. And Stuart couldn’t miss the giant wedding picture of Mum and Dad on the mantelpiece, where they looked so young and in love (with Mum’s wedding flowers strategically placed in front of the bump that was to become Mandy).

  As the beer and wine flowed, and the stories about Mum and Dad and the wider family were told, Stuart seemed to withdraw into himself. No wonder. None of the stories did anything except make him feel more and more like an outsider. Although he continued to smile and nod politely, his eyes looked really sort of hurt.

  For the first time I looked at Stuart not as someone who was wanting to take our mum away from us, but as just another human being trying to get by in the world. A human being who could be happy or sad or angry or hopeful … or lonely.

  Then I realized that I felt incredibly, enormously sorry for him. Almost as if I could cry. And that I felt absolutely terrible about what we were doing. But it was like being on a train that’s going faster and faster and you can’t get off. It was too late to stop it.

  Saturday, October 31: Midnight

  DEVASTATED MODE

  This could also be called Destroyed Mode, because it’s when your Grown-Up is so shocked and upset by something it is hard for them to function at all.

  If your Grown-Up is in Devastated Mode then it affects everyone—everything is confused and mixed up—it is like a hurricane or something.

  The best course of action when your Grown-Up is in Devastated Mode is to hang on in there. Nobody can stay in Devastated Mode forever—nobody could possibly have the energy. Life has to go on, even if it is changed forever.

  Mum is back in a place we never wanted her to ever go back to. She’s in Devastated Mode. Somewhere we can’t reach her. And we’re the reason she’s there. It’s all our fault.

  After the afternoon of the Plan, we made our excuses and walked back to our house, with Stuart saying not one word. Auntie Julie tried to make some sort of conversation, but he didn’t reply.

  When we got in the house and were in the hall, we heard Mum saying to Mandy, “I can’t wait to see Stuart’s face!”

  We trooped into the living room, where Mum was sitting on the couch, dressed up.

  Mandy said, “Ta-da! What do you think?”

  It had taken hours of effort and Mum looked every bit the punk rocker, with heavy black eyeliner, fake piercings, lots of giant fake tattoos (including one of a spider’s web on her neck), back-combed crimped hair (with a black rinse through it), chains, dog collar and a black garbage bag held together with safety pins. She looked terrifying.

  Stuart stared at her.

  “Can I speak to you outside?” he said.

  “Why?” said Mum.

  He took her by the arm and they disappeared into the backyard for about half an hour. Auntie Julie, Mandy and me sat in the living room, looking at each other.

  Auntie Julie was just putting the kettle on when they came in from the garden and walked through to the front hall. Mum was obviously shocked and upset, her black eyeliner was smudged and she had mascara-colored tear tracks down her face.

  Being dumped is bad enough, but being dumped when you are wearing a black garbage bag held together with safety pins must be particularly humiliating. You might as well just put yourself in the trash can and be done with it.

  “I think it’s for the best,” we heard Stuart saying. “I’m sorry.”

  We heard the front door close and the rustling of the garbage bag as Mum trudged upstairs. Then we heard her bedroom door slam shut.

  Mum didn’t want to talk to any of us, not even Auntie Julie. At one point, when Auntie Julie was knocking on the bedroom door, I heard Mum shout, “Julie, just go home.”

  Auntie Julie went off, looking upset. I shouldn’t think she’ll be getting cups of tea and chocolate cookies and sympathy off Mum for a while.

  But Mum, as usual, couldn’t stay angry for long. Soon we heard her crying—terrible big sobs muffled by her pillow.

  “Well,” said Mandy flatly, “I suppose that’s mission accomplished.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I’m going to get Jack,” I said finally, putting my coat on. I had to get out of the house.

  He and Great-Grandma Peters were watching Doctor Who.

  “That young gentleman,” said Great-Grandma Peters, pointing at the doctor with a custard cream, “can do surprising things with a screwdriver … which is just as well with these evil slimy green things with the teeth chasing him.”

  Mandy went to the party in the end. First she took Jack and dropped him at Auntie Susan’s to share Matthew’s babysitter—she had to get him away from Mum’s heartbreaking sobs. I didn’t feel like going. Even Hannah and Loops couldn’t persuade me when they came meowing round in their cat costumes, full of the Halloween mood.

  “But Ben Clayden’s going to be there!” said Hannah. She still thinks I love him. If
only she knew the truth.

  I couldn’t face going to the party. Hannah with Neil, Loops with Thomas and Jonathan Elliott (or Giraffe Tongue, as I now think of him) waiting to lunge. Anyway, I didn’t want to leave Mum.

  So I’ve spent the evening writing this and cuddling Rascal on the sofa and occasionally knocking on Mum’s door and being asked if I’d please just leave her alone.

  Where are my skills in operating Grown-Ups now? How on earth can I switch Mum out of this mode?

  What on earth have we done?

  Saturday, November 14

  ZOMBIE MODE

  Zombie Mode is not where your Grown-Up’s left arm falls off as they stagger through a graveyard. It is a particular malfunction where your Grown-Up’s mind seems to be completely empty—this mode can be induced in most models by switching on the TV. Zombie Mode often follows on from Tired Mode or it can be a side effect of Sad or Depressed Mode. Do not expect to get much useful function out of your Grown-Up when they are in this mode. Think of it as if they are on standby. Expert mode-switching is required to reactivate Grown-Ups from Zombie Mode.

  Try as we might, nothing has worked to switch Mum out of her misery. Mum has been in Zombie Mode for the last couple of weeks. We’ve ruined her life.

  Having your life ruined tends to preoccupy you, especially when your one chance of happiness has been taken away by people who’re supposed to love you.

  Mum’s gone back to how she was after Dad died, moping around the house and not bothering to brush her hair. She was off work for a week and even now that she’s gone back, she’s forgetting classes.

  I think Stuart said something in the yard about everybody going on about our dad, because Mum’s hardly talking to Auntie Julie, or Uncle Dave and Auntie Susan. When they call round she makes excuses and won’t invite them in.

  I should be glad that she’s stopped cooking and we’re having frozen dinners, which are at least edible in a chemical, cardboardish sort of a way. Yes, even a chemical cardboard taste is better than anything poor Mum could come up with. But I wish she would get off the sofa and cook something truly disgusting. It would mean she was enjoying herself again.

  10:00 p.m.

  I am a horrible person. Because it’s not just Mum that I’ve hurt. I’ve done something terrible tonight. There’s no way I am going to get one wink of sleep.

  No wonder I’ve almost given up on this guide. Who am I to tell you about Grown-Ups when it’s so obvious that I haven’t got a clue about managing their lives, or even my own?

  Mum is miserable, and I’m miserable because she’s miserable. And none of my so-called expert techniques in operating a Grown-Up are working. Of course they’re not. Because I’m rubbish. I’m not an expert at all. I’m a great big fake. I know nothing. Don’t ever listen to me again.

  This isn’t an operating guide that will be of any use to you if you’re trying to control your Grown-Up; Mandy was right—it’s just a pathetic diary of my tragic life. You might as well stop reading, especially as now I’ve outdone myself. Things were bad, but now they are Officially Worse. I’ve gone and done something just as terrible as what I did to Mum. Something happened that should have been wonderful, but thanks to how it happened, it’s really, really bad and I don’t know how I’m going to sort it out.

  Tonight, Hannah was out on a date with Neil Parkhouse, yet again. Tenpin bowling, apparently.

  I assumed that Loops was seeing Thomas, and for some insane reason I went up to the park on my own. It was getting late, and if Mum had not been so unlike herself there is no way she’d have let me leave the house and go off in the dark.

  I was feeling very angry for three reasons:

  1) Obviously because Mum is a total mess.

  2) It’s my fault that Mum’s a total mess.

  3) Hannah and Loops have started going out with Neil and Thomas every chance they can, leaving me with nobody to hang out with. They even did it last night.

  “Can you come round to mine later tonight, like after nine-thirty?” said Hannah over the phone. “It’s just that me and Loops are meeting the boys.”

  “Tell you what,” I said quietly, “I won’t bother coming at all.”

  “Katie, don’t be like that!” Hannah complained. “Just because you don’t want to go out with anyone doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.”

  So a couple of hours ago I marched up to the park, too fed up to care that I was out on my own in the dark. When I got there I sat on my own on the swings, brooding about how unfair my life is.

  Then I got spooked. The moon, which had been shining enough to give reasonable light, disappeared behind some clouds. It was so dark, I could hardly see the other end of the park.

  I heard a crunching noise. Then another. A twig snapped. My heart began to beat really fast.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Now I was starting to freak out. It was too dark to know if I was alone or if there was someone creeping up on me. I have never in my whole life felt so scared.

  Slowly I got to my feet and walked to the edge of the park. Then I opened the gate and ran as fast as I could across the park, toward the street at the other side where there were streetlights and where I would feel safe.

  Near the edge of the park, I ran straight into Thomas Finch.

  I was so relieved to see a familiar face.

  “What’s happened?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I gasped, out of breath, “I’m fine. I just got a bit scared.…”

  “It’s okay,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Let’s get you home. You’re shaking.”

  So we walked home, his arm around me all the way.

  “I’ve made you late,” I said, when we got to the front door. I looked up at him. “You’re probably meeting Loops.”

  “Not really, not like that …,” he said. Then he paused as if he was wondering whether to tell me something.

  “We’re splitting up,” he said.

  My heart leaped in the air and did a special celebration dance. I wondered why Loops hadn’t told me, but at that exact moment I didn’t care.

  “Oh,” I said. Then I couldn’t stop myself, I grinned up at him like an idiot. Which you’d have thought might have put him off, but it didn’t.

  He leaned down and kissed me.

  Not some horrible Giraffe Tongue type kiss (or how I’d imagine a Giraffe Tongue kiss would be). It was gentle, sweet, warm and lovely, the kind that I wanted to go on forever.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted that kiss and for how long.

  We were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching on the pavement. It was Leanne and Shannon.

  “Well, well, well,” said Leanne. “I wonder what your so-called friend Loops is going to say about this. She’s waiting for him at the minimart and you’re kissing his face off round here! Nice one, Katie!”

  They walked on, cackling with delight.

  “But … you said you’d broken up …,” I said, looking to Thomas for confirmation. He looked uncomfortable.

  “I was on my way to do it now.”

  “I think you’d better go,” I said.

  “I’m going to tell her right now,” he said, and started to walk away. I just shook my head, turned and went into the house, closing the door behind me. It’s incredible how quickly you can go from feeling on top of the world to feeling miserable again.

  I ran straight to my room to text Hannah and Loops, but then realized I’d left my mobile at Hannah’s house and Mandy was out so I couldn’t borrow hers. I phoned Hannah but her voice mail was on, so I left a message asking her to call me straightaway. I did the same to Loops’s mobile, which was also on voice mail. They haven’t called back yet.

  I feel absolutely sick about what’s happened and that I can’t get hold of Loops.

  I’ve wondered for so long what it would be like to have my first kiss, and now it’s happened. And my first kiss has betrayed one of my two best friends in the whole world.

  Tomorrow�
��first thing—I’m going to go straight over to Loops’s house to explain everything.

  Sunday, November 15: 2:01 p.m.

  At nine o’clock I was rushing my breakfast, all dressed and ready to go to Loops’s house. Then the doorbell rang.

  I opened the door to find Hannah and Loops. Loops’s eyes were red; she’d obviously been crying. My heart sank.

  “You’d better come in,” I said.

  They came in and we all went up to the Cupboard. Hannah was looking at me as if she didn’t know me. It was horrible.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I was about to come over to explain something that happened last night.…”

  “You don’t need to tell us anything,” said Loops, in a shaky voice. “I got the picture last night from Leanne. Katie, how could you?”

  “Thomas told me you’d split up.…”

  “So you got stuck in the moment then, did you?” Hannah was indignant. “Did you not think for one moment about how Loops might be feeling? If someone who you liked dumped you, how would you feel?”

  “I didn’t know he was dumping you …,” I protested. “I got the idea that you’d both decided.”

  “You got the idea?” said Loops. “Well, thanks for making sure you were clear about what was going on! I thought you were my friend.”

  “But I am! I am your friend!” I shook my head. “I just got the wrong idea and then it just happened.…”

  “Oh, forget it!” said Loops. “You lied to us! You let us think that you didn’t like him and then the minute you got the chance you just grabbed him, behind my back! Do you know how sneaky that is? You made me look so stupid! You know, I thought that you might actually apologize, but it seems you don’t think you did anything wrong. Look, I’ll see you around.”

  “Loops!”

  I looked pleadingly at Hannah, expecting her to say something to back me up, to say to Loops that I would never hurt her on purpose. But she looked at the floor.