by Sara Gethin
Miss is rubbing her cheeks again. She’s lifting her head up. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you sooner,’ she says. Her voice is all wobbly. She’s taking the tissue from her pocket. It’s very wet. She’s wiped her nose a lot with it already. In the car. She’s wiping her nose again now. ‘Come on. Let’s get you down.’ She’s putting my truck on the floor. She’s putting her hands under my arms. ‘Don’t put too much weight on that foot.’ She’s helping me down. We’re going down the ladder slowly.
‘Look!’ I’m pointing to my train table. ‘Someone’s broken it.’ Miss is looking at my train table. She’s looking at the big crack in the middle of it. ‘Dat made it for me, and now it’s all broken.’ My neck is hurting and hurting. And my eyes are all prickly.
Miss is hugging me. ‘It can be mended. Don’t worry about it now.’ She’s picking up my truck.
‘Will Dat mend it?’ I say. ‘Will Dat come here and mend it?’ My voice is tiny tiny. And my tummy’s hurting.
‘We’ll see.’ She’s helping me out onto the landing. My foot is hurting too. It’s hard to walk.
‘Dat’s not allowed to come here,’ I say. I want to see Dat. I want to see Dat a lot lot. But I don’t want Dat to come here. I don’t want him to see what’s in Mammy’s room.
Miss is squeezing my shoulder. ‘Shall I carry you again?’ I’m nodding. She’s picking me up. She’s swinging me onto her hip. I’m holding round her neck. She’s holding round my middle. It feels nice. I like her holding me. She’s putting my truck in between us. In between her tummy and my tummy.
Miss is looking at Mammy’s door. It’s still shut tight. ‘Do you think your mum’s in there?’ Her voice is very quiet. She’s putting her hand out. Her fingers are nearly on the handle.
‘No.’ I’m saying it fast. ‘Mammy’s gone away. I don’t know where she is.’ The words are making my neck hurt again.
‘But we’d better check,’ she says. Her hand is right on the handle now.
There’s a funny buzzy sound. It’s in Miss’s pocket. She’s pulling her hand back. She’s pulling it away from the handle. She’s not opening Mammy’s door. She’s getting her phone out instead. She’s getting it from her pocket. ‘Text from Colin,’ she says. ‘He’s just arrived at the nursing home. He’ll be there with his mum for a few hours.’ She’s biting her lip. ‘We’d better get a move on if I’m going to work out what to do with you.’ She’s putting her head on my head. ‘I should have come sooner.’ She’s squeezing me tight. My truck is squashing my tummy.
Mammy’s door is still closed. Miss isn’t going into her room. We’re going back past my bedroom. And back past the bathroom. She’s carrying me downstairs. ‘You’re so light.’ She’s saying it quietly. She’s saying it into my hair. I’m holding tight to Miss. I’m looking over her shoulder. I can see Mammy’s bedroom door. And I’m trying not to remember. I’m trying not to remember what I saw in there.
Miss is carrying me downstairs slowly. She’s holding onto the rail with one hand. She’s carrying me past the front room. I’m looking over her shoulder. I’m looking at the upside down settee. And the upside down chair. I’m looking at my squashed box. I’m looking at its ripped paper. We’re going past the telly in the hall. And I am trying to forget. I’m trying to forget the thing in Mammy’s bedroom.
Miss is carrying me out of the house. ‘The door,’ I say. My voice is still very small. ‘We have to close the front door.’
‘Oh yes.’ She’s nodding. ‘I suppose we better had, even though the back door is completely broken.’ She’s closing the door.
‘I always close the front door,’ I say.
‘You’re very sensible.’ She’s carrying me down the path. She’s carrying me to her car. She’s opening the car door. She’s putting me down on the back seat. She’s putting my truck down too. She’s pulling the seat belt over me.
‘Have you still got my fifty pence?’ I say. ‘And Nanno’s letter?’
‘Yes. Here you go.’ She’s taking them out of her pocket.
I’m taking my coin. I’m taking Nanno’s letter. ‘Thank you.’ I’m putting them in my tippy truck. I have remembered something else. ‘What about Mammy? She won’t know where I am.’
Miss is smoothing my hair. Her mouth is smiling but her eyes look very sad. She’s chewing her lip. ‘I could leave her a note, I suppose.’ She’s looking in her bag. She’s found a pen and a bit of paper. ‘I’ll tell her you’re with me, and I’ll leave her my mobile number.’ She’s writing something on the paper. ‘Won’t be a minute.’ She’s running back up the path. She’s putting the bit of paper into the letter box.
She’s running back down the path now. She’s getting into the front of the car. ‘Right. Let’s get you away from here.’ She’s making the car start. I can feel it all rumbly in my tummy. And in my legs and in my head. She’s driving down the road. She’s driving fast. She’s getting me away.
I’m turning round. I’m putting my knees on the seat. I’m looking back at our house.
‘Careful, Tomos,’ Miss says. ‘You need to sit down in the car.’
I’m sitting down again. I’m remembering something. ‘I’m not allowed to leave the house,’ I say. ‘When Mammy’s out.’
Miss’s eyes are looking at me in the mirror. The little mirror stuck to the roof of the car. ‘It’s okay.’ She’s turning round a bit in her seat. She’s looking at me. ‘You didn’t leave, Tomos. I’m taking you.’
We’re driving fast. We are driving fast fast. I’m thinking about something. ‘Are you stealing me? Like Wes stole my biscuit on the bus to the zoo.’
I can see Miss’s eyes again in the mirror. ‘No, I’m not stealing you. I’m taking you somewhere safe.’
‘You’re just borrowing me. Like a library book.’
‘Yes. Is that okay?’
‘Yes. I don’t mind you borrowing me.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’
I say, ‘It’s nice being borrowed like a library book.’ I am driving my truck on the seat. I’m driving it onto my legs now.
Miss is looking at my truck in the mirror. ‘It’s a shame it’s lost the wheels.’
‘They’re not lost,’ I say. ‘They’re on my bed, under the clothes. I forgot them.’
‘Oh what a pity,’ she says.
We’re still going fast. We’re going past lots of houses. We’re going past people too. Some of the people have shopping bags. Some of the people have pushchairs. Some of the people have dogs. ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’ll get the wheels when you take me back.’ I’m parking my truck on my lap. ‘After you’ve finished borrowing me.’ Some of the people are women. Some of the people are men.
And I’m thinking about what I saw. What I saw in Mammy’s room. Next to her upside down bed. It was lying there on the floor. With a big red patch on its tee shirt. And I’m trying not to remember it. I’m trying not to remember it at all. And I don’t care about the wheels. The broken wheels from my truck. I don’t want Miss to finish borrowing me.
I don’t want Miss to take me back.
* * *
We are in Miss’s house. It’s a nice house. It smells like Nanno and Dat’s house. We’re in the kitchen. It’s a nice kitchen. I’m sitting on a chair next to a table. Miss is in the kitchen too. She’s looking in her fridge. I can see her back.
‘You shouldn’t really eat anything.’ She’s saying it into the fridge. ‘Not if I’m taking you to A&E later.’ I can see lots of food in Miss’s fridge. My tummy’s making noises. The noises are very loud. Miss is looking at me now. She’s biting her lip. ‘Perhaps some milk,’ she says. ‘And how about a jam sandwich? Do you like strawberry jam?’
‘Yes.’ My voice is a bit better. ‘I like strawberry jam a lot.’ I’m smiling. My tummy is making more noises. ‘And I like milk. I used to drink it at Nanno and Dat’s.’
‘Okay,’ Miss says. She’s looking in the fridge again. She’s getting the milk. She’s getting the jam now. It’s red jam. It isn’t
brown. ‘I’m sure a couple of slices of bread won’t hurt.’ She’s getting the bread and she’s closing the fridge. She’s putting the jam on the bread. ‘And we might have to wait ages at the hospital.’ She’s picking up a plate. There’s a nice pattern on it. ‘And you do look really hungry.’ She’s putting the milk into a glass. ‘Here you go.’
I’m drinking it all.
‘Careful,’ Miss says. ‘Slow down. You might make yourself sick.’
I’m wiping my mouth. The milk is lovely. It is just like the milk at Nanno and Dat’s house. ‘Thank you,’ I say. My voice is much better now.
She’s giving me the plate. ‘Eat that sandwich slowly.’
‘Okay.’ I’m taking a bite. The bread tastes lovely. It’s soft. The jam is lovely too. It doesn’t have hard lumps in it. It has bits of strawberries and it doesn’t taste like vinegar. ‘Thank you,’ I say. A bit of sandwich is falling out of my mouth. It’s on the table. I’m picking it up and I’m putting it back in my mouth.
‘Remember to eat slowly.’ Miss is sitting down on the chair next to my chair. She’s looking at me. She’s watching me eating my sandwich. I’m trying to eat it slowly. I am trying to chew and chew. But I want to take a big bite. I want to take a very big bite. My tummy is making loud noises. I’m watching Miss watching me.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Thank you for this lovely sandwich.’ I’m taking a small bite.
‘Oh, Tomos, don’t thank me. I’ve let you down so badly.’ She’s getting a tissue from a roll on the table. The tissue has pictures of apples and bananas on it. She’s wiping her eyes. She’s blowing her nose now. She’s blowing her nose and closing her eyes. ‘I should never have agreed to go on holiday. I knew it was the wrong thing to do. It was Colin’s idea. He said I needed a break.’ She’s shaking her head. ‘But I was just worried all the time.’ She’s blowing her nose again. And closing her eyes.
I am taking a big bite of sandwich. It’s a very big bite. Miss didn’t see me. She’s opening her eyes. My mouth is full of sandwich. I am chewing and chewing.
‘I worried all the time about what was happening to you. And I was right to be worried.’ She’s blowing her nose again. I’m trying to take another big bite. I’m trying but my mouth is still full of sandwich. She’s opened her eyes. ‘I thought you’d be in danger,’ she says. ‘And I was right.’ I am chewing and chewing. She’s getting another tissue from the roll. I’m waiting for her to blow her nose again. ‘I’m so sorry, Tomos. I shouldn’t have listened to Colin.’
I am waiting. And waiting. She’s blowing her nose again and closing her eyes. I’m pushing all the sandwich into my mouth. I’m chewing and chewing and chewing and chewing. She’s stopped blowing her nose. Her eyes are open again. She’s looking at my plate. ‘You finished that fast. You must have been so hungry.’
I’m nodding. ‘Is Colin your little boy?’ It’s hard to talk. There’s a lot of sandwich in my mouth. Bits of bread are falling out of it. They’re landing on the table.
‘Colin?’ Miss is picking up the plate.
‘Yes, Colin.’ I’m licking jam off my fingers. ‘You shouldn’t have listened to him. Is he your little boy?’ I’m getting the bits of bread off the table. I’m putting them in my mouth.
‘No, Colin’s my husband.’ She’s picking up the glass that had the milk in it. ‘And I shouldn’t be too hard on him. He’s just worried about me. He worries about me all the time.’ She’s putting more milk into the glass. ‘And it’s lovely to have someone who cares about me. But he doesn’t know what it’s like. He doesn’t know what it’s like at all.’ She’s bringing the glass over to the table. ‘He’s always had his family. Well, his mum anyway. That’s where he is now, seeing his mum.’
‘Is Colin the husband that makes your sandwiches?’ I’m thinking about tuna mayo and sweetcorn sandwiches. And my tummy’s making noises.
‘Makes my sandwiches?’ She’s thinking. I can tell because her eyes are looking one way. And now they’re looking the other way. ‘Oh, yes. That’s right.’ She’s laughing a bit. ‘I told you he makes my packed lunches, didn’t I?’ She’s putting the glass of milk on the table. ‘I was bending the truth a bit, but he’s a kind man. I shouldn’t complain about him.’ I’m wondering about the glass of milk. I’m wondering if it’s for me. And I’m wondering how Miss bended the truth. She’s rubbing her eyes. ‘He doesn’t know what it’s like to be all alone, having to fend for yourself.’ Miss isn’t drinking the milk. I would like to have some more. My fingers are creeping near the glass. ‘Oh, here you are, Tomos.’ She’s pushing the glass to me. ‘But don’t drink it all in one go this time.’
I’m picking up the glass. ‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘Thank you very much.’ I’m drinking a bit of it. It’s lovely. I want to drink it all. I want to drink it fast fast fast. But Miss is watching me. I’m drinking another little bit.
‘So we came back early,’ Miss says. ‘From holiday. We were only in a caravan in the Lake District, but Colin was cross.’ She’s throwing her tissues in the bin under the sink. ‘He still is. And he’ll be very cross if he finds out what I’ve done. So we’d better have a plan.’ She’s walking round the kitchen. I’m drinking my milk. I am trying to drink it slowly. ‘First of all, we need to get you properly checked.’ She’s coming over to me. She’s looking at my head. ‘How did you get this cut, Tomos?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. I’ve finished all of my milk. ‘I think I bumped my head.’ I’m wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
Miss is touching my bump a bit now. ‘Were you knocked out, Tomos?’ I’m looking and looking at her. I don’t know what she means. ‘Did you go to sleep after you bumped your head?’
I am thinking. I can’t remember. ‘I don’t think so,’ I say.
She’s letting out a big breath. ‘That’s good.’ She’s looking at my neck now. ‘And how did you get those bruises?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. I think Brick might have hurt my neck. But I don’t want to say Brick’s name. I’m trying not to remember him. I’m touching my neck. I’m touching where it hurts. And my tummy is making funny noises.
‘And your finger?’ Miss is holding my hand. Her fingers are soft. ‘How did you do that?’
I’m looking at my finger. It’s still a funny colour. ‘Maybe Brick did it.’ It’s very hard to say his name. ‘I think he did it.’ I don’t want to think about him. My tummy’s making funny noises again.
Miss is sitting down in the chair. She’s looking at her phone. ‘Your mum hasn’t tried to call yet, so I’ll take you to the hospital. We need to get you checked over.’ She’s biting her lip. ‘But we’ll have to play a game. A game of pretend. Can you do that, Tomos?’
‘Like being a plane? I like pretending to be a plane.’
‘Sort of. Let’s get you cleaned up first. And then we can think about what type of pretend game we’re going to play.’
‘Okay. I like pretend games. I hope we’re pretend planes. Or trains. Dat was good at pretend trains.’
Miss’s mouth is smiling but her eyes look sad. ‘You miss your dat, don’t you?’ She’s smoothing my hair.
‘Yes.’ I am thinking about Dat. I’m thinking about him being a train. I’m thinking about him reading me stories. My nose is tickly. My eyes are tickly too. My neck is hurting a lot. I’m rubbing it. ‘He didn’t come and get me.’ It’s hard to say the words. My neck is hurting a lot inside. And my tummy is making funny noises. ‘When Mammy went away, he didn’t come and get me. And I called him and called him. But he didn’t come. And I wanted him to come. But he didn’t. He didn’t come…’ My words have gone. My tummy is making a lot of funny noises now.
Miss is putting her arms round me. She’s holding me tight. ‘He wanted to come,’ she says. ‘But you know he’s not allowed.’
I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to cry at all. Not wanting to cry is making my neck hurt more. And my tummy hurts too. ‘Did I do something?’ It hurts when I talk. It hurts me everywhe
re. ‘Did I do something to Dat, to make him not allowed to see me?’
Miss is hugging and hugging me. ‘No, Tomos. You didn’t do anything. Dat loves you very, very much. It’ll be all right.’ She’s smoothing and smoothing my hair. ‘And you’re safe now.’ She’s cwtching me tight. And rocking and rocking me. ‘You didn’t do anything to Dat and you’re safe now. You’re safe.’
And then I am sick.
* * *
I like Miss’s bathroom. It smells nice. It smells of Miss. She has toilet paper with little flowers on it and it’s very soft like Nanno’s toilet paper. I’m having a wash in Miss’s bath. The water is lovely. It’s all bubbly and it isn’t cold.
Miss is giving me a flannel. ‘I’m sure Nanno taught you how to wash yourself.’ She’s giving me some soap too.
‘Yes,’ I say. I am rubbing the soap. I’m rubbing it in the water. I’m rubbing it on the flannel and I’m washing myself. ‘Sorry I was sick.’ I’m looking at Miss’s cardigan. I can see it in the sink. Miss has washed the sick off it.
‘Don’t worry. I think it’s because you ate too fast.’ She’s looking at the bump on my head. ‘I just hope it wasn’t because you’re concussed.’ She’s putting her hands over my eyes. She’s doing the thing again. The thing she did lots and lots in the kitchen after I was sick. ‘Keep your eyes open, Tomos.’ She’s counting. I’m trying to look at her hands. I can’t see them very well. I can only see two pink bits of light. ‘Now look at me while I take my hands away.’ I’m looking at Miss. She’s looking at my eyes. ‘I’m sure you’re not concussed. You’re pupils are reacting fine. When did you bump your head, Tomos? Was it last night?’
I’m thinking. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it yesterday? Yesterday was the day I knocked on the door and you were in bed.’ I’m shaking my head. I don’t think it was yesterday. ‘The day before yesterday? That’s the day you said you went to the park with Wes.’
I’m trying to remember the day before yesterday. And going to the park with Wes. I don’t like remembering that. I say, ‘I don’t remember bumping my head.’