by Green, Linda
Every morning we played out the scene from Angelina Ballerina where the mischievous mouseling knocks things over by attempting pirouettes in the kitchen and ends up in big trouble. Only in Esme’s case she managed to carry the whole thing off with such aplomb that instead of us getting cross and bothered about it we could only marvel at the ability of one seven-year-old to cause so much chaos.
‘The milk, Esme,’ I said, pointing to her cereal bowl, ‘you’re spilling your milk.’
‘Oops,’ she said with a giggle.
‘It generally happens if you try to do star-jumps while pouring it,’ said Will.
‘What about pike-straddles?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Give it a try.’
‘Will,’ I groaned.
‘What? Like she needs encouraging.’
‘How about trying yoga?’ I suggested. ‘You could do a nice meditation while eating your cereal.’
‘Boring,’ said Esme. ‘I’d rather do a shoulder-stand.’ She lay down on the kitchen tiles and kicked her legs up into the air, knocking over a chair which in turn knocked over the cat’s water bowl.
‘Mum,’ groaned Will with a grin on his face. ‘Now look what you’ve made her do.’
I pulled a face at him. Occasionally, that is what my family reduced me to. Will helped Esme mop up the mess before I sat her down firmly at the table.
‘One day, young lady, we may actually resort to velcroing you to the chair.’
‘Is that an actual word?’ asked Will.
‘I don’t know. Ask Mr Hudson at school. Could you pass the milk please, Charlotte?’
Charlotte stared blankly at me.
‘The milk, Charlotte, love.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
She passed the jug and went back to staring blankly into space. I looked at Will. He shrugged. A second later her mobile beeped. She picked it up and held it under the table. Her hair was hanging down across her face so it was impossible to see her expression, but a second later she pushed her chair back and went to leave the table.
‘Charlotte, you haven’t finished,’ I said. She glanced down at her plate, ran out of the room and up the stairs. I looked at Will.
‘Can you get Esme ready for school please, love?’
‘Sure,’ he said, instantly swapping to responsible older-brother mode.
‘What’s wrong with Charlotte?’ asked Esme.
‘Big-girl stuff,’ I heard Will say to her as I left the kitchen. ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’
I knocked on Charlotte’s bedroom door. She didn’t say to come in, but nor did she shout to go away.
I went in. She was sitting on the end of her bed, tears pouring down her face, the mobile still in her hand.
‘Hey.’ I sat down next to her and hugged her to me, feeling her chest shake as she sobbed. I held her for a long time until the sobs subsided a little, enough for her to be able to speak.
‘They’ve started again, haven’t they?’ I said.
Charlotte nodded.
‘Is it the same girls?’
She nodded again.
‘What would you like me to do about it?’
‘I don’t know. They might just stop. If I ignore the texts, I mean.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to ignore stuff like that. What did the text say?’
Charlotte didn’t reply. I picked up the phone from the bed and clicked on the top message in her inbox. ‘Hey geek. Wanna shag a choirboy? Bet he won’t shag u, titless freak.’
I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling. Someone had sent this. Sent it to my daughter. Every primal instinct within me rose to the surface. If I’d had a nuclear bomb at my disposal at that point I would probably have used it.
‘Oh Charlotte.’ I hugged her to me again. As if she were still my little girl. As if I still had control over her world. As if protecting her from harm was as simple as applying sunscreen and putting a shade on the buggy.
‘How many of these have you had?’
‘A few.’ I looked at her face. Wiped a tear away for her with my finger.
‘Come on, honestly?’
‘About a dozen.’
‘Did any of them threaten you?’
‘No. Just stupid stuff like that.’
‘What’s this ridiculous choirboy thing?’ I asked.
‘Just something they made up because I’m in the choir. It fits the whole geeky thing.’
I got up from the bed. Paced around the room, trying to think rationally rather than emotionally.
‘Well, we can’t let them do this to you. I think I should phone the Head.’
‘No. Please don’t. It’ll only make it worse.’
‘It stopped it last time.’
‘Everyone knew, though. That you’d been up the school. That I’d told you who’d done it.’
I hesitated. I couldn’t bear to see Charlotte hurt like this, but I also understood the importance of involving her with how this was dealt with.
‘OK. So what’s the alternative?’
‘I ignore it. They’ll get bored and go and pick on someone else.’
It didn’t seem much of an alternative to me. ‘I tell you what,’ I said. ‘Don’t delete the message. Turn the phone off and leave it in your drawer. If anyone hassles you at school, you tell a teacher straight away and tonight I’ll have a chat with your father about it.’
‘Please don’t tell Dad. He’ll go off on one. He’ll try and call the police or something.’
‘Look, we won’t do anything without consulting you. But I do have to tell him, love. This is really serious.’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘OK.’
‘Now, are you all right to get your face washed and get yourself to school?’
She nodded.
I went over to her, held her shoulders and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘I love you to bits and you’re utterly gorgeous, you know.’
She nodded again. I wished I could record myself saying it and have it playing in a loop in her head all day long. Anything to drown out the bad words. To make sure the nasty things didn’t seep through.
I hurried back down to the kitchen. Will had miraculously managed to get Esme dressed and ready for school, book bag and lunch bag in hand.
‘Thanks,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘You are a complete and utter star and you can have that in writing if you like.’
‘Can I have a tenner instead?’ he asked.
I smiled at him. ‘No, but it was a good try. Wait for your sister, will you? Even if it means you’re a bit late. And keep an eye on her for me.’
Will nodded. I opened the front door. Esme shot out into the garden.
‘Is this about the bullying?’ Will asked.
‘Did you know it had started up again?’
‘I’m not sure it ever really stopped.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It’s just girls of that age, isn’t it? They can be complete cows to each other.’
‘Well I want you to look out for your sister, but no vigilante stuff, OK?’
‘OK.’
I pulled on my coat, hurried outside, took Esme’s hand and set off down the hill for school.
We arrived in the playground at the same time as Sam, Oscar and Zach.
‘Are we early or are you late?’ asked Sam, as Esme started running rings around Oscar’s wheelchair.
‘We’re late, I’m afraid,’ I replied.
‘Oh well. Right, you two, have you got everything?’ Zach nodded, Oscar pulled a funny face. ‘Have fun,’ said Sam, kissing them both before they hurtled towards the school entrance.
‘You too,’ I said to Esme, bending to give her a kiss. ‘Love you lots.’ I watched her run off after the boys, wishing for a second that I had a pause button. That it would always be as good and as simple as this. I’d never wished that before. I’d always thought it strange how some parents seemed to want to bonsai their children. For me, watching them grow up and become young adults was
one of the best bits of the ride, one that I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to miss. Until now, that was.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Sam. I realised I was still staring in the direction of the school door.
‘Sorry. I’m not really with it. It’s been one of those mornings.’
‘What’s up?’
‘This bullying thing with Charlotte has started up again.’
‘Oh, Anna. You poor thing. What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. Charlotte doesn’t want me to go and see the Head. But we’ve got to do something to stop it. I can’t bear the thought of her going through all that again.’
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I think she’s got the best mum possible to help her through it.’
‘It’s different though,’ I said, ‘when it’s your own kids, I mean. All that theory and training goes out of the window and I just want to shout and scream and kick up a huge fuss like any mum would.’
‘Yeah, but you don’t though, do you? That’s the difference.’
‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
‘Oh,’ said Sam, reaching into her bag and pulling out an envelope, ‘I nearly forgot. This is for you.’
‘Thank you.’ I tore open the envelope and pulled out the printed card inside. It read: ‘You are invited to the inaugural meeting of a new political party at Number Ten (Fountain Street, Hebden Bridge) on Sat. 2nd March at 8p.m.’
I looked up at Sam and smiled. ‘Fantastic. You can count me in.’
Sam frowned at me. ‘No, it wasn’t supposed to be that easy. You were supposed to say I’m crazy, ask me a hundred questions and tell me you’d think about it with a highly doubtful expression on your face.’
‘You are crazy,’ I said. ‘Certifiable. But you happen to have caught me at the one moment when the world as it is seems crazier still.’
Sam grinned and hugged me. ‘You won’t regret it,’ she said.
‘I know,’ I replied.
7
SAM
‘Why can’t I stay up for the meeting?’ asked Oscar for the seventy-third time as he finished his spaghetti and wiped the tomato sauce on his lips all over his cheek with the back of his hand. It wasn’t that he had a burning desire to talk politics for three hours, simply that he hated missing anything.
‘Remember what I said, love. It’s going to be a lot of talking and not very interesting for children. Plus it starts after your bedtime.’
‘But it’s a Saturday,’ said Zach. ‘People in my class stay up for Britain’s Got Talent on a Saturday and that’s not as important as running the country.’
Whilst I was pleased that Zach recognised that tonight was more important than winning a talent competition, I doubted that the G8 Summit would take place with the politicians’ children in attendance. I looked at Rob as I gathered up the bowls. He gave me that look which said, ‘How the hell are you going to get out of this one?’
‘I tell you what,’ I said, turning back to the boys. ‘Why don’t we have our own little meeting now instead? You boys can tell me all the really important things we can do to make the country a better place and I’ll tell your ideas to Jackie and Anna.’
‘OK,’ said Zach, seemingly mollified. ‘How about putting more ramps everywhere so children like Oscar can get around more easily?’
‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘And how lovely that you started by thinking of others.’
‘I would like pizza and carrot sticks every night for tea though, too,’ he added.
‘That’s fine,’ I said with a smile.
‘And ice cream,’ said Oscar. ‘I’d like ice cream every night.’
‘OK. And what about something nice for other people?’
‘I’d like them to have ice cream every night too,’ said Oscar.
Rob snorted a laugh of approval as he scraped the plates over the compost bin.
‘While we’re at it, maybe we could have a chippy on every street corner as well,’ he added.
‘Thank you for your contribution.’
‘And how about proper headphones issued with all iPods so we don’t have to mess about with silly little earphones that never stay in properly.’
‘I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously,’ I said, giving him a look before I turned back to the boys.
‘What about things that would make school better?’
‘I know,’ said Zach. ‘A big telescope in the playground so we could look up at the sky. And binoculars for bird-watching.’ I nodded enthusiastically and started writing their suggestions down on a piece of paper.
‘A stage so I could do shows and tell jokes,’ said Oscar.
‘A nature trail,’ said Zach.
‘A banana tree, hot chocolate coming out the taps and not having to be quiet all the time.’
I smiled at Oscar and scribbled them down. I couldn’t help thinking that he had the makings of a Monster Raving Loony Party candidate.
‘What are you going to be called?’ asked Zach. ‘You’ll need a name if you’re going to run the country.’
‘I don’t know,’ I smiled. ‘I haven’t got that far yet. You two will have to think of something for us.’
‘Does it have to have party at the end?’ asked Zach.
‘Yeah, it does really.’
‘The Cheeky Monkey Party,’ said Oscar.
‘Thank you, love,’ I said. ‘I’ll write that one down too. Now, thank you both for your suggestions. I’m going to clear the tea things away while Daddy gets you ready for bed, OK?’
‘Do I have to have the cough machine tonight?’ asked Oscar.
I glanced over at Rob. Oscar so rarely complained that I was at a loss to know what to say when he did.
‘Oh, it’s not a cough machine tonight,’ said Rob, wrapping his arms around Oscar. ‘It’s a fire-breathing dragon and you’re going to be the knight. Are you up for the challenge?’
‘Yeah,’ roared Oscar, and set off at full speed out of the kitchen, followed by Rob.
‘It’s not really going to be a dragon, is it, Mummy?’ asked Zach.
I ruffled his hair, wishing that sometimes he wasn’t quite so worldly-wise. ‘No, love. But he’ll enjoy the game, won’t he?’
Zach nodded, gave me a hug and headed upstairs after them.
Anna arrived first. I opened the door to find her immaculately dressed as ever and brandishing a bottle of something red.
‘I wasn’t sure what you’re supposed to bring to the launch of a political party,’ she said, ‘not having been to one before. But I figured a bottle of Rioja wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Thank you,’ I said with a smile. ‘As we’re making up our own rules as we go along, I think that’s a very good one to start with.’
‘Oh, and I thought we’d need some sustenance, so I brought these as well.’ She handed me a small brown paper carrier bag from the local deli. Inside were two tubs of olives, a pot of houmous and some organic sesame and red onion crackers.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Although this means I can no longer claim that we came from humble beginnings.’
She smiled and followed me through to the kitchen. I’d thought it was reasonably tidy until she was standing in the middle of it. Anna always made anyone and anything around her look untidy in comparison.
‘Are the boys in bed?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. Not asleep yet, though. They both really wanted to stay up for this.’
‘Esme couldn’t quite get her head around the fact that I was going out on my own for the third time this year!’
‘Did you tell her where you were going?’
‘Yes. Didn’t tell her what we were doing, though. She thinks we’re just having a chinwag.’
‘What about David?’
Anna hesitated. ‘I didn’t tell him exactly. I just said we were going to be talking politics.’
I nodded. She looked down. I poured a glass of wine for us both and one for Rob, which I put on the side for later. I sensed from Anna’s response
that, unlike me, she was not going to get her partner’s wholehearted support over this. And I didn’t want to make that any harder for her than it clearly was.
Another knock on the door.
‘Hello,’ said Jackie. ‘I’m calling on behalf of the Three Stroppy Cows’ Party. I’m wondering if we can count on your support in May?’
‘You can if you come up with a better name than that.’ I laughed, as I gave her a hug.
‘I thought it summed us up quite well.’
‘Not sure it will appeal to the voters, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh well. Back to the drawing board.’ Jackie clomped through to the kitchen and deposited a plastic Co-op shopping bag on the counter. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t run to actual champagne. I’ve just gone for the cheap fizzy plonk and a tube of Pringles.’
‘Fabulous. Thank you.’
‘Hi, Jackie,’ said Anna, rising to give her a kiss on both cheeks.
‘Oh,’ said Jackie, gesturing to the wine and olives on the table, ‘I’ve come to the wrong party, haven’t I?’
‘Not at all,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ve bought some teabags and a packet of digestive biscuits. There’s room for all tastes here.’
Jackie grinned and sat down. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Are you going to tell us your crazy plan now, or is there going to be some big fanfare and simultaneous internet launch?’
Anna sat back down and looked at me too. I realised I hadn’t planned what I was going to say properly. I hadn’t even come up with a decent name for the party. And these were far from salubrious surroundings. I could already see the entry in Wikipedia reading, ‘The party was founded around a kitchen table in a small terraced house in West Yorkshire.’ It was now or never, though. And it really didn’t matter that we wouldn’t have a grand beginning. What mattered was where it might end.
‘OK,’ I said, as I sat down and turned to the notes I had scribbled on my pad. ‘It’s going to be a bit of a splurge. It might not make much sense, but please bear with me.’