by Susan Lewis
‘Dad?’ I say.
‘Yes?’
‘Is Mum going to die?’
‘No, of course not,’ he says. ‘Don’t be daft. Now go and lay the table, like a good girl.’
I’m happy now, because it’s taken me days and days to pluck up the courage to ask, and now I know it’s going to be all right. Anyway, I didn’t think she was going to die really, it was just worrying me a little bit.
Chapter Seventeen
Eddress
The days all seem to be running into one now. Haven’t got much idea when one finishes and another starts. Too weak to do more than just lie here, drifting in and out of sleep, and thinking, though most of the time I’m too tired even to do that. There in’t much pain, not now they’ve got me on the morphine. Reckon I’d be climbing up the walls otherwise.
No-one’s come out and told me there’s no more they can do, but I d’know. It’s a feeling that’s all about me, and has been ever since I went into that bleedin’ General. While I was there they opened me up and had a look round, but it was all too far gone, so they just stitched me up again, gave me a bit of time to get over the operation, then sent me home. They don’t say the words like, ‘We’re very sorry, Mrs Lewis, we’ve done all we can,’ or ‘Bad luck, Mrs Lewis, we didn’t get it in time,’ they just say, ‘We think she’ll be more comfortable at home now, Mr Lewis.’
Not sure if I am more comfortable here. It’s hard to tell when I’m out of it most of the time. Can’t be very nice for Eddie though, having to put up with me like this. Obviously the kids don’t know anything. Couldn’t bear it if they did, poor little mites. Sometimes I hear them charging about, up and down the stairs, in and out of the bathroom, whispering at the tops of their voices so they don’t wake me up. Love ’em to bits, I do. Just love ’em to bits. It’s tearing out me heart to think of leaving ’em, it’s so bad I can’t let meself do it. Got to think of something else.
Daft part of it is, I’ve managed to give up smoking. Either that, or I just don’t have the energy to do it. Whichever, don’t make any difference, because it’s a bit bloody late now, innit?
Funny how me head seems a bit clearer tonight. Don’t expect it’ll last long, but it’s nice that Eddie’s sitting here next to me, holding me hand. I can’t get up the wind to speak, or even move much, but I can hear him telling me poems. He’s got a lovely voice. Me eyes do flicker open every now and then, but everything’s all blurred, and it wears me out trying to see, so I just close ’em again. The kids is in bed. I can’t remember if I said goodnight to them or not. I hope so, because I got to be honest, I reckon it’ll have been me last chance. Don’t want to go without giving them a kiss and saying cheerio. I want to ask Eddie if I did it, but I just can’t manage it.
I can hear meself breathing. Or is it him I can hear? In and out. In and out.
Thought I’d be scared stiff when the time came, but turns out I’m not. I was, mind, right up to this morning, or was it yesterday morning? I don’t know what happened to make it go away, but I’m not scared now. Not for me. It’s Susan and Gary I’m scared for, and Eddie, and how they’re going to get on without me.
Haven’t got it in me to argue or plead with God any more, but I still don’t understand it, honest I don’t. I hoped I would before I went, but it still don’t make any sense to me, that He’d take a mother away from her children. Why did He give ’em to me in the first place, if this is what He intended? It’s cruel, innit? That’s what it is, downright cruel. They need me. Nine and five, that’s all they are. They’re not even old enough to understand why I won’t be here any more.
Funny thing is, when I was younger I never thought I’d have any kids. Never thought I’d get married even. Always afraid no-one would want me, I suppose. It would be better now if no-one had.
I think Eddie knows how much I love him. I hope so. I’ve never been any good with those sort of words, not the way he is. Look at him. Can’t open me eyes, but I can see him in me mind’s eye, sitting there. Is there a better man in all the world? He’s here with me now, making sure I’m not on me own, or in any pain. How’s he going to cope when I’ve gone? Who’s going to take care of him then? Who’s going to make sure he becomes a writer, and help him with the kids? He can’t do it on his own.
Think I must have drifted off for a bit, because I can hear the birds now, just coming awake. What day is it? I think it’s a Wednesday. Eddie’s still sitting here, next to the bed. He’s asleep, I think, but his hand’s still holding mine.
I manage to get me eyes open. He’s watching me. Eyes all blue and filled with tears. He knows the moment’s here. So do I.
Goodbye then, me old love, I say to him in me mind. I’m off now. Take care of my children. I know you will. Make sure they do well.
He’s got tears running down his face, the daft sod. I try to squeeze his hand to let him know it’s all right. This is what I want now. I’m ready to go. I don’t know if he felt it. I hope so . . .
Susan
It’s Wednesday morning, and Dad’s just brought in my breakfast, the same as he does most mornings now. Toast, cornflakes and a cup of milky tea. I don’t really want to go to school today, but I suppose I’ll have to.
After I’ve washed and dressed I pop in to say cheerio to Mum. She’s still asleep, and the blankets are over her face, so I pull them back and give her a kiss. She doesn’t wake up, so I go on out to the landing and open the curtains. I’m trying to remember if I need my PE bag today, but I can’t. Anyway, if I forget it, I won’t have to do games, so that’s all right.
Dad hasn’t gone to work yet, so I suppose he must be going in late. He’s washing Gary’s face and combing his hair in the bathroom.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs I pick up my satchel, shout cheerio and go out the door. All the other children are coming out of their houses now, on their way to school, so I walk up the hill with Janet and Sarah.
Our first lesson is English, and after that, at quarter to eleven it’s French. We’re outside the French room waiting to go in, when the school secretary comes along and calls out my name.
‘Yes miss?’ I say, stepping out of the line.
‘Come with me, there’s a good girl,’ she says.
Everyone’s watching me, and I’m trying to remember what I did wrong as I follow her along the corridor.
‘Have I been naughty?’ I say when she stops outside the headmaster’s office.
‘No my love,’ she answers. ‘Go on in now,’ and she opens the door.
The first person I see is Dad, then Mr Dobbs. Now I’m really frightened, because if they’ve made Dad come up the school I must have done something very bad. Then I see Mrs Preddy, who’s the headmistress down at Gary’s school.
‘Hello my old love,’ Dad says.
I look at them all and wait for them to tell me off.
‘We’re going to go down to the infants’ school,’ Dad says. ‘The car’s outside. You can go with me, or Mrs Preddy.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘Just go and get your coat, there’s a good girl.’
I do as I’m told and come back to find them waiting on the front steps.
‘I’ll go with you,’ I say to Dad.
He lets me sit in the front seat as we drive down Alma Road to the infants’ school. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I feel very afraid.
As we get out of the car, Dad comes to hold my hand across the road.
We go inside the infants’ school, where Mrs Preddy’s already waiting outside her office.
‘Where’s Gary?’ I ask.
‘In his classroom.’
Dad takes me into Mrs Preddy’s office and closes the door. He then tells me to sit down, and comes to sit on a chair in front of me. I think I know what he’s going to say, but I don’t want him to say it, so I wonder if I can run away, or block my ears so I can’t hear.
‘You know you asked me the other night,’ he says, ‘if Mummy was going to die.’
I sit forward. I’m really, really frightened now.
‘Well, the angels came last night and took her to Jesus.’
‘But I don’t want them to,’ I tell him. ‘You can’t let them Dad. Please. She has to stay here with us.’ Big fat tears are running down my cheeks.
‘I know, my love, but she can’t.’
‘Dad, please.’
He pulls me onto his lap and puts his arms all round me. ‘Ssh, now,’ he says, ‘you have to be a big, brave girl now.’
‘I don’t want to be. I want my mum.’
‘I know, I know.’
He rocks me back and forth and holds me tight.
‘Come on now,’ he says after a while. ‘Stop crying. You don’t want all the little ones to see you, do you?’
I shake my head, and wipe the tears away with the backs of my hands.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter that she’s dead, because I know she’s going to come back. She will. I know she will.
‘Do you want to come home now, or do you want to go back to school?’ Dad asks.
‘Um, I think I’ll go back to school.’ If I do everything normal, then it’ll all be normal again.
‘All right. Mrs Preddy’ll drive you up the hill, while I have a little chat with our Gary.’
In Mrs Preddy’s car I’m thinking about what it’ll be like if Mum really is dead. I mean, I know she’s not, but if she is, I’ll be the only girl in our family, so I’ll have to do all the cooking and cleaning, and take care of Gary, and make sure Dad’s sandwiches are cut, and do the shopping, and all the other things Mum used to do. But only until she comes back. I won’t have to do it after that, until I’m grown-up and I’m a mum myself.
The French class is nearly over when I get there, so Mr Dobbs lets me wait in his office until the bell rings for dinner. He takes me over to the canteen himself, holding my hand, which makes me feel really silly. After he’s gone everyone comes crowding round me, wanting to know why I was called out and what I did wrong and did I get the cane.
‘My mum’s dead,’ I tell them.
All their faces go strange. ‘How?’ Lizzie asks.
‘She just died.’
‘What was wrong with her?’
‘She wasn’t very well, so she died.’
‘That’s really horrible,’ Diane says. ‘I’ll be your best friend again if you like.’
‘No I will,’ Lizzie tells her.
‘No, I will.’
‘No, I will.’
Everyone wants to be my best friend.
‘She’s a liar!’ Kelvin Milton shouts. ‘Her mum’s not dead, she’s just left her, because she can’t stand her.’
Mrs Fields snatches him up by the ear and marches him out of the canteen. We don’t see him again until class starts in the afternoon, when Mrs Fields makes him stand up in front of everyone to say sorry to me.
‘He had six strokes of the cane from Mr Dobbs,’ one of his friends whispers to me.
Good. I hope it hurt.
We do some lessons then go out to play. Everyone’s crowding round me again, being my friend. I think Mum can probably see me, but I’m not really sure. Then Mrs Jeffries comes up and tells me I can be in the school choir.
‘There won’t be any time for you to rehearse for the concert,’ she says, ‘but we’ll get round it.’
I’m really happy now, and can’t wait to tell Mum. I expect she’ll be back by the time I get home. I mean, I know she’s dead, but really she’s just gone to her other family for a while, so she can always come back whenever she likes.
When I get home from school lots of my aunties and uncles are sitting round the table in the dining room. I go upstairs to see Mum, but she’s not there, so I go into my room and have a sit-down on the bed. It all feels really funny and I wish it didn’t.
‘Can I come in?’ Gary says.
‘Yes.’
He comes and sits next to me on the bed. ‘What does dead mean?’ he asks.
‘Nothing,’ I answer. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Oh.’
I put my arm round him, because he’s little and he doesn’t understand. ‘Let’s go and find Dad,’ I say.
When we get downstairs one of our aunties comes into the passage. ‘There you are,’ she says, ‘we were all wondering where you’d got to.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ I ask.
‘He’s in the front room, but you’re not to disturb him. He’s having a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘We want to see him,’ I say.
‘No, you can’t. Come and have some tea. We’ve got some nice cakes and lemonade.’
‘I want to see my dad,’ I shout. ‘Dad! Dad!’
‘Sssh. Oh my goodness, you always were a handful.’
‘It’s all right,’ Dad says, coming out of the front room, ‘they can come in.’
We go in and climb up on his lap. He gives us a great big hug and asks what we did at school today. I tell him I’m going to be in the choir for the concert and he smiles. Then we don’t say anything for quite a long time. We just sit there, being quiet.
‘She’ll come back, Dad,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t worry, she will.’
Lots of days have gone by now and Mum still hasn’t come back. They had a funeral, but it was only a pretend one, because she’s still with her other family somewhere. It’s all right though, she’ll come back when she’s had enough of them.
I had a funny dream last night, that I was in her bedroom, carrying her around on my back. She was really heavy, so I was glad when I woke up.
I think she might be back today, because I’m singing in the choir tonight. There hasn’t been enough time for me to learn all the words, so I have to go ‘Rhubarb, rhubarb,’ to make it look as though I know them. I’m going to wear my white lacy dress, even though it’s supposed to be for Whitsun. This is a special occasion, and Dad agrees that if Mum was here, she’d say I could. I’m not going to wear my glasses either, or a ponytail. I want to look really lovely for my first time in the choir.
Gran’s coming to the concert, and two of my aunties. One of them keeps stopping me from going in the front room to see Dad. She says he has to have some time to himself, so I’m not to go bothering him with all my talk. She even slapped me the other day for cheeking her back. I hate her. Just let her wait till I tell Mum she hit me, she’ll really be in for it then.
If Mum is in heaven she might be watching me now, standing here at the edge of the choir, with the curtains swinging back so everyone can see us. We’re already singing, and I’m going ‘Rhubarb! Rhubarb,’ with all my heart, in case she can hear me. We’re about halfway through the second verse when Mrs Jeffries pulls me off into the wings and whispers, ‘You’re supposed to be miming the word, dear, remember?’
‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’
But it’s hard when everyone’s singing at the tops of their voices, and I’m not allowed to. It’s not fair, so I bellow it out again, and at the end everyone in the audience claps and claps and claps, and after, when I go to find Dad everyone says what a lovely dress I’m wearing, and how proud my mum would be of me if she could see me now. Lots of them are crying, but I don’t know why, because our songs weren’t sad. Anyway, Mum can see me, but I don’t tell them that.
England won the World Cup and there was a party out in the street, with lots of flags and lemonade and everyone cheering and jumping up and down on the tables. I don’t care that Mum didn’t come to celebrate with us, so there. Me and Dad and Gary went out for a bit and joined in, but then Dad came inside again, so we did too.
He’s in the front room on his own again now, and Gary’s gone out to play with his friends. My aunties have been trying to persuade Dad to give us away, because he can’t bring us up on his own, but he says, ‘We belong together, and that’s how we’re going to stay.’
I’m glad about that, because everyone wanted to take Gary. No-one wanted me, so I might have ended up in a home like Oliver Twist, beaten and starv
ed and turned into a pickpocket and never allowed out to play.
I decide to go outside. Everyone’s playing up on the green, but I don’t want to go that far away from Dad, so I draw a hopscotch on the path outside our gate and play on my own. I’m just turning round to hopscotch back again when I look up and see Mum, standing at the corner of our house. She’s got her pink pyjamas on and she’s laughing.
I feel all happy and then really strange, because she’s not there really, I just thought she was. I don’t want to play any more, so I go back inside and listen by the front-room door to see if I can hear Dad. There’s no noise, so maybe he’s asleep. There are some parcels on the floor, with some new coats in from China. Mum ordered them ages ago, and they’ve only just got here. I think about putting one on, but instead I skip up over the stairs and into my bedroom.
I’ve got lots of toys, but I don’t feel like playing with them, so I lie down on the bed and stare up at the walls. If I sing, the way we used to, I wonder if she’ll come back.
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find them,
Leave them alone, and they’ll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.
I sing three more songs, then I go quiet. I know I’m not supposed to cry, that I’m supposed to be strong and brave, but I can’t help it. I want my mum. I want her to come back.
I think I’d better speak to Jesus again, so I get down on my knees and put my hands together. ‘I’m sorry, Jesus,’ I say. It comes out as a bit of a sob, so I have to say it again. ‘I’m sorry, Jesus, for all the bad things I’ve done and said and thought. I’m really, really sorry, so if you’ve got Mum there please will you let her come home now. If you do I promise to be good for ever and ever and ever, amen.’
I’m not sure, but I think He might have heard me this time. I hope so, because Dad’s really missing her and I don’t know how to make him feel better. It’ll cheer him up a lot if Jesus would let her come back in time for the Whitsun parade next Monday. She can see me in my new dress then as well. And watch Gary marching with the Cubs. And in winter we can wear our new coats from China.