‘Are you sure it’s nothing? Is everything okay with school and Piper?’
Luke hesitated. ‘There’s actually –’
Kate heard a scream. It was Jess. She left Luke and took the stairs two at a time, her heart beating wildly. At the top she skidded left and burst through the door into the bedroom.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kate cried, terrified of the answer.
Jess was holding her phone, sobbing. ‘It’s La-Larry.’
28
Her mother handed her another tissue. Jess hadn’t known she had so many tears. Larry was gone. Her person, her friend, the only one who understood exactly how she felt, was dead and she couldn’t come to terms with it.
‘There is no God,’ she said, sobbing into Whiskey’s soft face.
‘Jess, don’t say that.’
‘No, Mum, there isn’t. I don’t believe in God any more or Mary or saints or miracles or any of it. It was nice of your friend Liam to give me that medal, but I don’t want it.’ Jess handed it to her.
Her mother put it into her pocket. ‘Larry was just really sick and really unlucky.’
Jess stared at her, big eyes full of tears. ‘He was a good person, a great person. He didn’t deserve to die. There is no God and no justice. I hate this – I hate this life, this stupid bloody cancer! I hate it!’ Jess was racked with sobs.
Her mother climbed onto the bed and held her. ‘I hate it too,’ she said. ‘But you’re going to be okay.’
Jess sniffled into her shoulder. ‘What if I’m not, Mum? Larry was in remission three times and it came back and he’s dead. He was my best friend. He made me laugh on the really bad days.’
‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ She stroked Jess’s bald head.
That felt nice. Jess loved it when she did that. It reminded her of being little, when her mum used to stroke her hair before she went to sleep.
Life seemed so bleak. She felt like a black cloud was descending on her, suffocating her. Everything was dark and depressing and pointless and frightening, and her heart ached. She felt so sick and exhausted and fed up and just … just sad. So, so, so, so sad.
If Larry could die, so could she. No one was safe from cancer. It didn’t matter about the statistics or Luke’s bone marrow or chemo or anything: cancer could come back or never go away and you could die.
Jess didn’t want to die. She wanted to live and become a famous horse-rider and win a gold Olympic medal at show-jumping or dressage and have a gorgeous boyfriend and be happy and healthy and never, ever see a hospital again. Why had cancer come into her life? She hated it.
Larry said you had to stop asking why and accept it. He said acceptance was the only way to stop your head melting. He said that you couldn’t fight having cancer: you could only fight the cancer itself. He said you had to keep all of your energy on that fight, good against evil. You against cancer. And he had tried, he had tried so hard, to fight and be positive and not let it win. But it did. It bloody well did. Cancer had won and now Larry was gone.
As her mother gently stroked her head, Jess thought about their pact: how Larry had promised to send a sign if there was an afterlife. How she’d do the same if she’d died first. But she hadn’t. Larry was dead and here she was, sick and broken. But she knew Larry would do it if he could, so she’d wait for the sign.
It had been only a few days but every morning she woke up and stared out of the window for a robin on her windowsill or rainbows or white feathers or something, but there had been nothing so far. When Jess had said that if she died first she’d send a white butterfly to sit on his shoulder, Larry had got cross and said that was silly. You couldn’t be so specific, he said, because they didn’t know what it was like on the other side and it might be complicated to get a sign to someone, so it was best not to be too detailed.
Jess had seen a magpie on her windowsill yesterday but Larry had hated magpies – he’d said they were a sorry excuse for a bird – so she’d known that wasn’t his sign.
Her mother shifted slightly on the bed. ‘You have to be strong and get well for Larry,’ she said. ‘He’d want you to get better and live a brilliant life.’
Jess nodded, wiping her eyes.
‘It’s awful to lose a friend like Larry, but don’t let it knock you back. Use the sadness and anger to drive yourself forward.’
‘I’ll try, Mum. I’m just so tired and sad.’
‘I know, pet. Will you try to sleep now?’
‘Yes. I’ll see you later.’
‘Are you sure? I’m happy to stay with you.’
‘Yes. I’m okay, Mum.’
She watched her mother walk across her room and out of the door, closing it gently behind her. Once she was alone, Jess started to cry, the kind of heartbroken tears that fill your ears and make the bedsheets wet and leave you feeling emptied out and raw. She was about as far from okay as it was possible to get.
The next morning Jess was gazing out of the window, desperately praying for a sign from Larry, when she heard a knock on her door.
‘Jess, are you awake? Larry’s dad’s called in to see you,’ her mother said.
Jess sat bolt upright.
A moment later, Larry’s father popped his head around the bedroom door. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Jess, but I have something for you.’
He had aged ten years and looked awful. His eyes were red and bloodshot and the skin on his face was saggy. He reminded Jess of a Basset hound.
‘Hi, Mr Wilkinson,’ Jess said. ‘I’m glad to see you. I’m so sorry about Larry. He was such an amazing person. I … I’m just so sorry.’
Mr Wilkinson nodded sadly and handed her an envelope. ‘Larry made me promise that if anything happened to him I’d give you this.’
‘Thank you so much,’ Jess croaked.
With trembling hands she opened it. Inside she found a card with a picture of a dandelion on it. She began to cry. That was his sign.
Inside was a quotation. She read it out: ‘“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.”’
Jess, now sobbing, looked up at Larry’s father who was crying too. ‘It’s our favourite part of The Hunger Games.’
‘He loved that film. He loved you, too, Jess. Thanks for being his friend and making his time in hospital less awful.’
Jess couldn’t speak.
‘We’re praying for you and hoping that you’ll get well and live a full and happy life.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so, so sorry about Larry.’
‘Me, too,’ he said, and shuffled out of the room.
Jess sat staring at the card, laughing and crying. Eventually she turned to the window and said, ‘Thank you, Larry. Dandelions will remind me of you for ever. I miss you.’
She kissed the card and, holding it to her chest, lay back and fell into a deep sleep.
29
Piper tried to sneak past the twins’ room without being seen, but they shouted, ‘Piper! We need help – please, Piper.’
She went in reluctantly. They were sitting at the end of Penny’s bed wearing Santa hats and really cheesy Christmas jumpers.
‘Penny’s trying to film us with her phone propped up on top of the drawers, but it looks crap. We need the camera to move around a bit. Can you do it?’ Poppy begged.
The last thing Piper wanted to do right now was film her two silly sisters but she knew they’d hound her until she agreed, so she said, ‘You’ve got ten minutes and that’s it.’
‘Fine,’ Penny said, and she and Poppy sat on the bed.
Piper held the phone up and began to record them.
‘Hi, everyone.’ They waved and smiled fake smiles.
‘It’s the two Ps here, wishing you a very merry Christmas Eve. With only one more sleep until the big day, we wanted to talk about Christmas.’
‘If you’re old and you’re watching this, do not buy your kids or
grandkids pyjamas or socks or crappy jumpers for Christmas. They don’t want them,’ Penny said.
‘Yeah, totally. Just give them vouchers for cool shops. Vouchers are good because then the person can buy what they actually want and not have to pretend to like the purple jumper or the pyjamas with, like, reindeer on them,’ Poppy agreed.
‘Don’t buy vouchers for Marks & Spencer’s or shops like that, buy them for, like, H&M or River Island.’
‘Or Superdry.’
‘Or for ASOS.’
‘Do ASOS do vouchers?’ Poppy asked.
‘I dunno. I think so.’
‘You can’t say you don’t know. We’re supposed to be telling people what to do,’ Poppy remonstrated.
‘Well, you don’t know either, so don’t give out to me.’
‘You’re rubbish at this, Penny.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, just take that bit out.’
‘Fine. Just leave it at Superdry,’ Poppy said.
‘Moving on to other Christmas things,’ Penny said, ‘you have to give me my present and I’ll give you yours and be all, like, “Wow, that’s so cool,” like Zoella does with her friend.’
‘What did you get me?’ Poppy asked.
‘It’s supposed to be a surprise.’
‘It’d better not be rubbish, then.’
‘Who cares? It’s just about looking happy and pretending,’ Penny huffed.
Posy had come out of her box room and was standing behind Piper. ‘You can’t be fake,’ she said. ‘People will see through you. Zoella isn’t fake, which is why everyone loves her.’
‘Obviously we won’t look fake. We can act, Posy,’ Poppy said.
‘Yeah, how hard is it to look excited anyway?’ Penny agreed.
‘Don’t underestimate your viewers. We can tell fake from real,’ Posy said.
‘Piss off, Posy, we’re trying to film here. When we’re zillionaire YouTube stars you’ll get nothing because you’re just being negative.’
Piper put the phone down. ‘You can argue on your own time. I’m going.’
‘No! Wait, we have to do the presents and then we’re finished,’ Poppy said.
‘When I give the present to Poppy, you need to zoom in on her opening it,’ Penny said. ‘Poppy, you need to say how amazing the wrapping is and all that too.’
Piper pressed record again and Penny handed Poppy a present wrapped in silver paper with a crooked red bow.
‘Wow, Penny!’ Poppy said, eyes wide. ‘This is amazing! I’m super-excited. The wrapping paper is so cool, where did you get it?’
Penny fake-smiled. ‘It’s actually tinfoil, which I used to save money and the planet.’
Piper tried not to laugh. The planet? Was Penny serious? Could she be that clueless?
‘Wow, it looks like designer paper. And the bow is so awesome! It’s perfect!’
Posy snorted.
Penny glared at her. ‘I spent ages getting it just right. I think a nicely wrapped present is so much better than one that’s thrown together, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Poppy opened the present – an empty St Tropez fake-tan bottle.
‘Seriously?’
Penny frowned at her. ‘Isn’t it fab?’
‘It’s my fake tan and it’s empty.’
‘For God’s sake, they can’t see that. Pretend it’s full and you’re happy. Jesus, Poppy, you’re so bad at this.’
‘You can see it’s been used because it has brown streaks down the side,’ Posy said.
‘You are so scabby. I can’t believe you’re giving me my own fake tan as a present.’ Poppy was furious.
‘We’re just pretending, you freak! It’s not real!’ Penny shouted.
‘Zoella is real. She never pretends,’ said Posy.
‘Can you just shut the hell up and stop banging on about Zoella?’ Penny hissed.
‘I thought you wanted to be like her,’ Posy said, thoroughly enjoying herself now. ‘You’re the opposite of her. You’re like the fake Zoella twins.’
‘The bogus twins,’ Piper said, as Posy giggled.
Poppy wasn’t letting the bad present go. ‘I actually bought you something with my own money and I wrapped it in actual wrapping paper, not bloody tinfoil.’
‘What is it?’ Penny asked.
‘It’s a really cool T-shirt from H&M and I’m not giving it to you.’ Poppy reached behind her to grab the present and waved it under her sister’s nose.
‘You have to! It’s for the show, for our future.’
‘No way. I’m going to do this on my own without you bossing me about.’ Poppy held the gift tightly.
‘You can’t give yourself a present, you moron.’
‘Oh, yeah? Watch me.’ Turning to the phone camera, Poppy said, ‘So how about this? How about you treat yourself to a gift at Christmas? We all spend so much time buying things for other people and get so many rubbish presents, especially from our scabby sisters. Why don’t we buy ourselves something that we actually want?’
‘That’s ridiculous, Poppy,’ Penny said. ‘The entire point of Christmas is that you give presents to others! Isn’t that right, everyone?’
‘Yes, but not when you know for a fact that the other person isn’t going to give you one. In that case you’re perfectly entitled to spend the money you were going to spend on them on yourself.’
‘That makes you Scrooge.’
Poppy grinned. ‘No. You’re Scrooge, because you’re tight, scabby and mean.’
‘I am not.’ Penny shoved Poppy over.
‘Yes, you bloody are.’ Poppy shoved her back and they began to wrestle.
‘OMG, they’re so lame,’ Posy said.
‘Somehow I don’t see a big future for them on YouTube.’ Piper grinned.
‘No one who is actually sane would want to watch this,’ Posy agreed.
They left the room with the twins still fighting.
Piper went into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. Her head ached. They’d phoned Maggie that morning and told her their decision. She’d been very nice about it and said she’d help them.
Piper heard her mother coming through the front door, shouting, ‘Merry almost Christmas,’ up the stairs. Two minutes later she called them all downstairs. It was a family tradition that they sat around the tree, eating mince pies and listening to carols on Christmas Eve. Even though they all moaned and groaned about it, they secretly liked it. Piper heard the twins thundering down the stairs, followed by Posy’s lighter steps. She heard Pauline coming in from college – the only student in the world who studied on Christmas Eve.
She hauled herself up and took a very deep breath. This Christmas Eve was going to be very different for her. For all of them, in fact.
Seamus put on his favourite first, Bing Crosby singing ‘White Christmas’. Everyone got to choose a song and that was his. Olivia passed around the mince pies and cream.
‘Yum. These are really good, Mum,’ Poppy said.
‘Marks & Spencer’s,’ Olivia told her.
‘Not exactly baked with love, are they?’ Poppy said, then took a bite.
‘So, girls, another year gone. Where does the time go?’ Olivia wondered. ‘Next year Pauline will be in her second year at med school, Piper will be in college, you two rascals will be in transition year and Posy will be in second. You’re all growing up too quickly. I feel as if it was only yesterday when you were babies.’
‘I wouldn’t go back to the nappies and the sleepless nights if you paid me,’ Seamus said, polishing off his second mince pie. ‘I prefer them at this age – less work.’
‘Oh, I loved the baby stage – they were adorable.’
‘Jesus, Olivia, we were nearly divorced over lack of sleep and dirty nappies.’
Olivia smiled. ‘I don’t remember that. I just remember the chubby thighs and the little white teeth poking out from pink gums, the first words and the sound of babies laughing.’
Piper watched her mother’s face light up as she remembe
red those days. It made her want to weep.
‘I bet I was the cutest,’ Penny said.
‘You were in your arse,’ Seamus said. ‘A nightmare, that’s what you were. You never bloody slept. Up all night. I never saw a child with so much energy.’
‘Who was the best baby?’ Poppy asked.
‘Posy,’ Seamus and Olivia said at the same time.
‘I would have thought she’d be the worst because it was your last chance to have a boy and then it was a girl and you were devastated,’ Poppy said.
‘Thanks a lot, Poppy, I actually have feelings, you know.’ Posy’s cheeks were red.
‘We weren’t a bit disappointed. Don’t mind her. You were the sweetest baby ever,’ Olivia said.
‘A little dote,’ Seamus agreed.
‘What was I like?’ Piper asked, suddenly desperate to know.
Olivia and Seamus looked at each other.
‘Good.’
‘Yes, easy enough.’
‘You don’t remember, do you?’ Piper said.
‘It’s kind of a blur. You only remember the really bad ones and the last one,’ Seamus admitted.
‘Thanks a lot.’ Piper felt furious.
‘You were lovely, darling, a lovely baby, a lovely girl and a lovely teenager too.’ Olivia tried to reassure her.
Piper knew it was unreasonable, but she was raging. She wanted to know. She needed to know. What kind of a baby was she? Was she good? Did she sleep? Was she sweet? Was she … Oh, God, what was she doing?
She felt a cool hand on her arm. It was Pauline’s. ‘Breathe,’ she whispered.
Everyone was distracted by Penny and Poppy arguing over their choice of songs.
‘Do you want a glass of water?’ Pauline asked quietly.
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Have you made up your mind?’
Piper nodded.
‘Are you sure?’
Piper nodded again. ‘As sure as I can be.’
‘No way am I listening to Mariah Carey! For God’s sake, Penny, choose something else.’
‘I like it and it’s my choice.’
‘I hate that song.’
‘So do I.’ Posy groaned.
The doorbell rang. Piper jumped up and went to open it. Luke was standing in the rain, soaking wet. ‘What are you –’
The Good Mother Page 22