Kat Got Your Tongue

by Lee Weatherly

  He picked up his briefcase from beside the sofa, and snapped it open on the dining table. Taking out his laptop, he plugged it into the downstairs phone line, and a few moments later we were looking at the Radio 3 website, scrolling down a list of entries.

  ‘What's the time, just past seven?’ Richard stroked the cursor pad and tapped at the black keys. ‘Right … that was Bach's Concerto Number One in A minor, for Violin and Orchestra. The andante movement.'

  ‘The what?’ Peering over his shoulder, I stared at the words on the screen. How could such a boring title have anything to do with that incredible music?

  ‘The slow movement. Concertos are divided into several parts, I think.’ He reached for the cursor again.

  ‘No, hang on, I have to write down what it's called!’ I ran into the kitchen to grab a Post-it pad from the drawer where Beth kept pens and batteries and things, and then dashed back into the dining room. ‘OK, what's it called again?'

  Richard read it out to me, and I wrote it down carefully, drawing a line under it. ‘There,’ I said, peeling off the Post-it sticker. ‘Now I just have to find it.'

  Richard glanced at me and smiled. Closing down the laptop, he said casually, ‘You know, I think it's late-night shopping in town tonight, if you fancy popping along to the music shop.'

  Beth was in the kitchen when we got back, scowling at the kettle as it boiled. Richard gave her a hug from behind, kissing her hair. ‘How did it go? Was that Mrs Perlman again?'

  Beth sighed as she made a cup of tea. ’ Yes. She never listens to a word I say; I don't know why she's even bothering to do life-coaching. Never mind …’ Looking over at me, she smiled. ‘Did you find what you were after?'

  ‘Yes, look!’ I took the CD out of the bag and showed it to her. ‘It's Bach's Concerto Number One in A minor, for—'

  ‘For Violin and Orchestra,’ finished Beth softly. A strange expression crossed her face as she examined the CD. She looked at me, her fingers tightening on the plastic case. ‘You just heard this tonight?'

  I nodded, wondering what was wrong. She put the CD down on the worktop, angling it carefully so that it lined up with the edge. ‘Did you – did you remember anything when you heard it?’ Her voice sounded strained.

  Not that again! I shoved the CD back in the yellow and red plastic bag. ‘No. I just liked it, that's all.'

  ‘Oh.’ She gazed down at her tea.

  ‘Beth, what is it?’ asked Richard, touching her arm.

  She swallowed, tried to smile as she glanced at me. ‘It's just – Kat, that's the piece you used to love so much, the Bach violin concerto I told you about. You used to play it over and over again.'

  It felt like she had just splashed a bucket of ice-water over me. ‘I liked this before?'

  Beth nodded. ‘You loved it. So when I saw it, I just thought …’ She trailed off and lifted a shoulder, grimacing. ‘Sorry.'

  I sat on the floor of my room, hugging my knees and listening to the music. It was just as beautiful as it had been on the radio, but somehow I couldn't relax enough to let it pick me up and carry me away. I kept thinking of how I used to play the violin.

  Why had I stopped? Grade five, that sounded so impressive! Had I been as good as the violinist on the CD? I traced a pattern on the carpet, listening to the music. Probably not, I guessed, since I was only ten or something when I stopped playing – but it sounded like I could have been that good someday, if I had kept at it.

  Was it what I had wanted to do with my life? Because in the photo where I had been standing up on stage, you could tell that I loved playing; that I really, really loved it. So why had I stopped even listening to classical music? You don't just stop liking something, do you?

  No. You don't.

  Suddenly my heart beat faster, and I stared at the computer. I had liked the same things when I was Kathy as I did now, even if I had tried to stop, for some reason. The concerto proved it.

  I jumped up and switched on the computer. The cursor blinked at me inside the white box. PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD.

  I took a deep breath and typed: BACH.

  A jangle of computer-music blared from the speakers as the blue screen disappeared, and a scene of a rolling green hill in front of a cloud-filled sky took its place. A line of brightly coloured icons marched down the left-hand side of the screen.

  I was in. I slid into the chair, staring at the icons.

  WORD. EMAIL. INTERNET. SOLITAIRE.

  I tried WORD first, glancing through the old documents, but there wasn't much there – just some old school papers I had written. I clicked onto EMAIL and the screen changed again.

  Now I was looking at a white background with rows and rows of email titles. I fumbled with the keys, scrolling down. There were hundreds of them! They went back years! And … my skin prickled.

  Almost every single one of them was from Poppy or Jade.

  Hours later, my skull was throbbing from squinting at the tiny print. I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my eyes. They felt rough and gritty.

  I hadn't completely believed it before, but the three of us really had been fantastic mates – always going off to the cinema together, or going shopping, or doing homework together. Hardly a night had gone by without a couple of emails flying back and forth. But then they just stopped, about three weeks before the car hit me.

  Just stopped. And now Poppy and Jade probably wouldn't spit on me if I were on fire.

  I jumped as a knock rapped on my door, shattering the silence. The CD had ended ages ago. ‘Yes?’ I called, turning round in my seat.

  Beth stuck her head round the door. ‘Can I come in?'

  My neck heated up, and I hastily clicked the screen away. ‘Sure. I was just … looking at the computer.'

  Her eyes widened as she hurried into the room, shutting the door behind her. ’ Really? Have you remembered the password, then?'

  I shook my head, hating how excited she looked. ‘No, I just guessed it. It took me ages.'

  ‘Oh.’ She let out a breath. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and then she gave me a small smile. ‘I tried to get onto it while you were in hospital, but I couldn't work out the password.'

  I stared at her. ‘You tried to get onto it when I wasn't even here?'

  ‘I was worried about you. Did you—?’ She cleared her throat. ‘I mean, is there anything there that – that might explain things?'

  Things. You mean why I lost my memory? I shook my head, playing with the space key on the keyboard. ‘No. Just a bunch of old emails, that's all.'

  ‘Nothing that … has any unresolved questions around it?'

  I would have smiled at that, if I hadn't been so irritated that she sounded like Dr Perrin. ‘No. Just lots of emails to Poppy and Jade. About parties and stuff.'

  Beth sighed. ‘So long as I'm confessing, I tried to find your journal too.'

  My throat went dry. ‘I … kept a journal?’

  ‘Yes, I've seen you writing in it. You must have kept it well hidden, though.’ The corners of her mouth lifted faintly.

  I stared around the small room, my mind racing. But I had looked absolutely everywhere! Where could I have hidden a journal?

  Beth rubbed her elbow. ‘Anyway, that's not why I came in. Kat, I just wondered if – if you'd like me to get you another violin.'

  I looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘A violin,’ she said softly. ‘Like you had before.’

  ‘But—’ I stared at her. ‘Don't I already have one, somewhere?'

  Her cheeks reddened. ‘No, it – got broken when we moved. I hired one for you for a while, but then you said you weren't interested any more, and I shouldn't bother. So I just wondered – I mean, now that we can afford it, and you seem to like classical music again – whether you'd like another one.'

  I thought of the Bach concerto, and a chill of excitement flickered through me. I looked down, trying to hide it. ‘But I don't know how to play.'

  ‘No, not now.’ She sat down on my bed.
‘But if you wanted to take lessons again, I bet you'd pick it up really quickly, because you were so advanced before. And it might help bring back your memory too.'

  My head snapped up. She sat very still, looking hopeful. ‘Oh, Kat, it's worth a try, isn't it?’ she burst out. ‘I mean, we've tried everything else.'

  I might have known! Naturally this was all just about getting my memory back. That was all she cared about!

  ‘No, thanks,’ I said. I clicked onto Solitaire on the computer.

  ‘But, Kat—’

  ‘I don't want to play the violin.’ Maybe I did, but I wasn't about to do it with Beth listening anxiously to every note I played. Have you remembered yet? No? Well, how about now?

  ‘Look, maybe if I just got you one – you don't have to take lessons right away. You could just play it on your own and see—'

  I slammed down the mouse. ’ No! I don't want to!’

  ‘You're not even trying!’ Beth burst out. ‘Kat, we have to get your memory back, you can't just stay like this!'

  ‘Why not?’ I cried. ‘What's so terrible about the way I am now?'

  ‘Nothing's terrible about it, it's just not you! It's like—’ She broke off, biting her lip.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  She shook her head quickly. ‘Nothing.'

  Anger flashed through me. Suddenly I hated her, really hated her. ‘You mean it's like I'm not even your daughter any more, don't you? Like you don't even know me!'

  Beth ducked her head down and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. ‘You don't even call me Mum any more,’ she whispered.

  ‘Because I only met you a couple of weeks ago!’ I shouted. ‘You don't feel like my mum! Do you think you can just – just be my mum automatically?'

  ‘But I am your mum! I – oh, Kathy …’ She buried her head in her hands. It felt like she had kicked me in the stomach. I sat there, frozen, with hot tears that couldn't begin to thaw me clutching at my throat.

  Finally Beth sniffed and stood up, brushing the creases from her trousers. Her nose was red. ‘I'm sorry. You're right. Just – think about the violin, OK? I want you to be happy, Kat, that's all.’ She gave me a shaky smile and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kathy

  2 March

  I haven't gone to school yet. I slipped out to the shed first thing, before Mum or Richard was up, and now I've got the violin all packed in my bag. As well as I can pack it, anyway. It sort of sticks out, but I've draped a jumper over the top of it. Now I just need to slip out of the house without Mum seeing it. Fingers crossed.

  Oh God, I just want to get this over with! Find Tina and give her her stupid violin back, and—

  No, stop. I can't cry now, Mum will see me with my eyes all red and ask questions.

  Anyway, this is it. And then when I get home today it'll all be over. Finally and completely.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kat

  Poppy was waiting for me at the front gates again. I grabbed her arm and dragged her over to one side. ‘I've got to talk to you.'

  ‘What?’ Her eyes bulged. She glanced over her shoulder, no doubt looking for Jade and the rest of her posse to come and protect her.

  I opened my bag and thrust a sheaf of papers at her. ‘Here.'

  ‘What—?’ She glanced through them, her forehead creasing. ‘These are just old emails.'

  ‘Almost two years' worth, actually,’ I snapped. ‘I just read through them last night. It proves we were really friends, doesn't it?'

  She stared at me. ‘Kat, of course we were friends. But—'

  ‘And look, see—’ I rifled through the pages, pointing at a date. ‘The emails just stopped here, only a few weeks before the car hit me. One minute you and Jade are talking about some party I missed, and then the next you're gone! So what happened?’ My voice trembled. ‘You were both my friends, and then you just dumped me? Or what?'

  Poppy stood there holding the emails, looking dazed. I saw her throat move as she swallowed. A laughing group of sixth-formers walked past, and she edged out of their way, not taking her eyes off me.

  ‘You … really don't remember, do you?’ she said slowly.

  I should have felt elated, but instead I just wanted to smack her one. ‘Oh, whatever gave you that idea? You mean you only just now realized?’ I grabbed the emails back from her, stuffing them into my bag. A tear crept down my face, and I swiped it away.

  Poppy started to say something and then stopped, looking over her shoulder again. She nibbled on the side of her thumb. ‘Kat, um … why don't we go to the park?'

  The sound of students drifting into the school seemed to fade around us. I stared at her. ‘You mean not go to school?'

  Poppy nodded. ‘Just for the first lesson, then we can sneak back. It's Mrs Randolph again, she probably won't even notice.’ She flushed. ‘I – I've got a lot to tell you.'

  We sat side by side on the swings, pushing them gently with our feet and letting our legs drift from side to side. Poppy glanced at me, looking nervous. ‘Um … I like your coat. It's pretty, that shade of red.'

  I let out a breath. ‘Look, just tell me, OK? Whatever it is.'

  So she did. All of it – how I had hated Richard moving in, how I had liked Tina at first but then seemed to turn against her. And how I had stolen Tina's violin.

  My heart jumped off a cliff. ‘I what?'

  Poppy licked her lips. ‘From outside the band room. A bunch of people had left their instruments piled up there, because they were waiting for Mr Yately to come and open the door. And while they were all at the window, watching the football team practise … I guess you just stole it.'

  ‘Maybe it wasn't me! I mean, did anyone see me? Or – or did I say anything about it?’ My words spilled out on top of each other.

  Poppy sighed. ‘It was you. You admitted it to Tina. And you told her that you'd give it back to her, but—’ She stopped.

  ‘What?’ I whispered. My heart was beating so loudly I could hardly hear her.

  She bit her thumb. ‘I don't know. Something happened, but I don't know what. Tina told Jade, but she made her swear not to tell anyone else. She's … really, really upset over whatever it was. So's Jade. She's been trying to get Tina to go to Mrs Boucher, but she won't do it.'

  I swallowed hard. What had I done? God, what had I done?

  Poppy looked quickly up at me, her eyes bright with tears. ‘Kat, I'm sorry for not believing you, I really am! But it just seemed so – I mean, Jade said you did something terrible to Tina, and then the very next day you got bumped by a car and said you had amnesia …’ Her voice faded off to nothing.

  ‘That's OK,’ I said. My voice felt like sandpaper scratching at my throat. ‘I understand.'

  Jade didn't come near me at lunch, or in the corridors. I was desperate to talk to Tina, to apologize and try to find out what had happened, but Jade stuck to her side like superglue.

  PE was the last class of the day. The teacher, Mrs Waites, had us climbing these ropes hanging from the ceiling, pulling ourselves up them like monkeys gone wrong. ‘Grip with your knees!’ she kept shouting.

  When we went into the changing rooms after the class ended, my bag was gone.

  ‘Where did you leave it?’ asked Poppy.

  ‘Here! Right here, on this bench!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She peered under the bench, like maybe it was hiding there.

  ‘Yes! I'm completely sure; it's just not here any more!’ I was close to tears. The cat statue was in my bag! Kathy's statue. Mine.

  I looked across the changing rooms to where Tina and Jade stood talking. Jade's expression was intense. Tina just looked scared. She shook her head and then she glanced over and saw me watching. Her cheeks flooded with colour as her eyes hardened, and she nodded at Jade.

  I gazed stupidly at her, thinking that her red face clashed with her ginger plaits. ‘Do you think they have it?’ I whispered to Poppy.

  S
he stood staring at Tina and Jade. ‘I don't know. It definitely looks like they're up to something.'

  My heart felt like it was doing a drum solo in my chest. ‘Can't you find out? Can't you ask Jade after school and let me know?'

  Poppy bit her lip. ‘I can try, but I don't think she'll tell me. I tried to talk to her during science when you were at your other class, and … well, she's pretty narked that I believe you now.'

  ‘Oh.’ I swallowed hard and finished getting dressed, buttoning my shirt with cold hands. I glanced over at Tina and Jade again, and took a deep breath. ‘Well … if they're up to something, then I guess I'll find out about it, won't I?'

  ‘How have you been doing?’ asked Dr Perrin, beaming at me. ‘Any changes since last week?’ Pen poised, at the ready.

  I sat on the sagging green sofa, pulling the sleeve of my jumper over my hand. Changes. God, where did I even begin?

  ‘Has something happened?’ prompted Dr Perrin. Her hair was brighter than it had been last week, like it was freshly dyed, and it puffed out around her face, hair-sprayed to within an inch of its life as usual. But her eyes looked friendly. She smiled at me, waiting.

  I looked up, licking my lips. ‘Yeah, sort of.’ I hesitated, glancing at her notebook, and blurted out, ‘Could you put your pen down, maybe? And just listen?'

  I couldn't believe I had said that. Dr Perrin looked a bit taken aback, and then she quietly put her pen and notebook on her desk. She leaned forward, crossing her arms on her knees. ‘Go on, Kat. What's going on?'

  I told her everything, right from the start. When I finally finished, my cheeks were damp with tears. I had started crying about halfway through, and hadn't been able to stop, choking the rest of the story out between sobs.

  Dr Perrin passed me a box of pale blue tissues without saying anything. I wiped my face, sniffing. I wondered how often her patients burst into tears. Maybe she had dozens of spare tissue boxes stashed away under her desk.

  ‘What do you think I did to Tina?’ I asked her. ‘It must have been really awful.'

  She frowned thoughtfully. ‘Kat, I don't think that's quite the issue. Yes, of course you need to find out and make amends to this girl, but you also need to make amends to yourself. It sounds as though you were under a great deal of stress.'