My Mum's from Planet Pluto

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘Daniel, how has Mum been acting towards Martha recently?’ Dad sounded very tense now.

  ‘OK. Not horrible or anything. Just staring at her sometimes—’

  Dad interrupted again. ‘Do you have this woman’s address?’

  ‘No. Mum got it from the bed-and-breakfast place.’

  ‘What bed-and-breakfast place?’

  ‘Where Kate was staying when she was here. It was on Castle Road.’ I tried really hard to think of the name.

  Dad said not to phone the police after all because he would do that. ‘But I do want you to contact a grown-up to come and be in the house with you. Phone Sally’s mother, OK?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Daniel, just do it! I’ll phone you again when I’ve got hold of Mum’s doctor.’ He put down the phone.

  I didn’t understand what was happening any more. Dad must think things were really serious to have decided to call the police. But even though Mum was upset and acting strangely, she would never do anything dangerous, would she?

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘Don’t look pleased to see me or anything, will you?’ Abby said as I opened the front door.

  I was staring at her with an undisguised look of disappointment on my face. I’d thought for a second that she might be Mum, that’s all. ‘Sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just . . . something’s happened . . .’

  ‘What?’ Abby asked, frowning.

  ‘It’s . . . It’s . . .’ And I pulled her inside and blurted everything out.

  Abby didn’t look shocked or like doing a quick about-turn, which is how I reckon I’d feel if some kid I hardly knew suddenly poured out all that stuff to me the very first time I called in for him on my way to school. But then, I guess Abby was different from me. She’d already gone through a lot of scary stuff with her own mother. ‘Listen, try not to worry,’ she said quickly. ‘The police are bound to find her. But . . .’ She stopped there.

  ‘But what?’ I demanded.

  ‘Well, I was thinking. Maybe if we found out the address where she’s gone then we could give it to the police and they could find her quicker. Are you sure you can’t remember the name of that B. & B.?’

  I shook my head. ‘All I can remember is that it was on Castle Road.’

  ‘Right.’ She went over and picked up our phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Phoning for a taxi. You don’t want to just sit here doing nothing, do you?’

  ‘But my dad said to stay put.’

  ‘So? Your dad’s in New Zealand, isn’t he?’

  I frowned. She was right, of course. Dad wasn’t in any position to stop me.

  We got the taxi to take us to Castle Road, which was in the old part of town. It was raining and I had to hold my hood up against the wind as I started to walk along the road looking for B. & B. signs in people’s windows. Abby crossed the road to check out the other side.

  We’d got about halfway up the street when a police car pulled up on the road, level with us. The siren wasn’t on, but the blue light was flashing. The policeman who was driving wound down his window. ‘Are you Daniel MacKenzie?’ he asked me.

  My heart skipped a beat. Maybe they’d already found Mum and Martha. I nodded. ‘Have you found my mum?’

  ‘Not yet, but we’re working on it. Come on. Get in the car. You’re soaked.’

  ‘I know where Mum is,’ I said, not moving. ‘She went to see this lady in London. There’s a B. & B. here that has her address.’

  ‘We’re dealing with that. You shouldn’t have run off like that, mate. Your dad’s really worried about you. When he couldn’t get you on the phone again, he told us to look for you here.’

  ‘I’m not going home,’ I said. ‘I have to keep looking.’

  ‘If you get in the car, we’ll have a look together. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ I called over to Abby and we both climbed into the back of the car. ‘Drive slowly so we can see the numbers,’ I said. As we drove up to the top of the road, I stared at the houses on my side. Most of the numbers were displayed: 52 . . . 54 . . . 56 . . . 58 . . . The house after Number 58 had a B. & B. sign in the window and it said Mariner’s Cottage in blue paint above the front door. ‘Stop!’ I shouted, nearly leaping out of my seat. ‘That’s it! That’s it! That’s the one!’ And I only realized how much I was shaking when Abby put her hand on my shoulder like she was reaching out to calm a spooked horse.

  The police took over after that and, while they worked to locate Mum, I had to wait at the police station. They phoned Dad to tell him I was safe and one of the officers spoke to him for several minutes in private before coming through to fetch me so that I could speak to him too.

  ‘Dad, we found out where Mum went,’ I said as soon as I was given the phone. ‘The police in London are going to find her. But they say she might have to go to hospital.’

  ‘I know,’ Dad said. ‘They’ve just told me that.’

  ‘But Mum hates hospitals, Dad. She’ll freak out if she has to go back to one.’

  ‘They’ll look after her in hospital, Daniel. She’ll be safe there. There’s no need to be scared about that.’ He sounded like he thought there was something else to be scared about, but before I could ask him he was saying, ‘I’ve phoned the school and spoken to the deputy head. I’ve explained to him why your mother and you weren’t in school today. And I’ve booked the earliest flight home that I can. Hopefully I should get back the day after next. Until I get there, do you think Sally’s mother would look after you?’

  ‘I’m not staying at Sally’s!’

  ‘Daniel, there’s nowhere else.’ Dad sounded stressed.

  ‘There’s Abby’s,’ I blurted out. Abby was still with me at the police station. The police had called Susie, who’d said it was OK for her to stay and keep me company for a bit. ‘Her sister looks after her but her sister’s a grown-up. Please can I stay with her, Dad? Then I won’t have to tell everything to Sally’s mum. She’s really gossipy,’ I added quickly. (I didn’t have a clue if Sally’s mum was gossipy or not, but I knew that saying that might just swing it with Dad, because he really hates strangers knowing about Mum’s illness.)

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Abby says her sister won’t mind. You can ask her yourself. Abby’s got her work number, so you can phone her and speak to her. Please, Dad?’

  ‘Well,’ Dad still sounded unsure. ‘The social worker will be there soon. Let’s see what they think.’ The police had already explained that they had phoned the duty social worker because they had to do that when children didn’t have an adult there to look after them. The social worker would help sort out where Martha and I could stay until Dad got back. Assuming they found Martha before Dad got back . . .

  ‘Dad, everything’s going to be all right, isn’t it?’ I asked him, hearing my voice tremble slightly. Lots of ridiculous, scary thoughts had been going through my head since Mum and Martha had left the house this morning. Any second now Dad was going to confirm just how ridiculous they were.

  Dad paused for longer than I’d expected him to. ‘The police are doing everything they can, Daniel. They’ll let us know as soon as they find them.’

  Which didn’t answer my question . . .

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Daniel, I’ll be there with you just as soon as I can,’ Dad interrupted me. His voice sounded trembly too, all of a sudden. ‘Put the police officer on again now, there’s a good boy.’

  I had a big lump in my throat as I handed the phone over. I knew the answer to my question now, even though Dad hadn’t given it to me. The truth was that Dad didn’t know if everything was going to be all right any more than I did.

  12

  The social worker who came to see me at the police station knew Susie and Abby already, and she seemed to think pretty highly of Susie. She told Dad that when she spoke to him on the phone.

  Abby had already rung Susie, who’d agreed to look after me, so Dad phoned her and must have decided h
e trusted her, because pretty soon it was all arranged. Susie even got away early from work so she could come and collect us straight away from the police station. I was still really worried about Mum and Martha, but the police promised to come and tell us as soon as they knew anything and while we in the kitchen having tea, a police car pulled up outside. They told us that the police in London had found Mum and Martha at Kate’s house. They were both safe and Mum had been taken to hospital. Martha was being brought back here.

  I had this funny reaction when I heard. I couldn’t seem to feel anything at all at first – nothing like I’d imagined I’d feel anyway. It was as if my brain wasn’t connected to the rest of me or something, because I was hearing Mum and Martha were safe, and registering that they were, only my heart didn’t feel any different at all. I smiled and all that, because people were watching me, but it wasn’t until a good ten minutes later, when I was on my own in the bathroom, that it seemed to really sink in. The waiting was over. Mum and Martha hadn’t died or had a car crash or any of the other things that had been going through my head all day until now. They were both safe and it wasn’t just up to me to look after them any more. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and let the news sink in. I could see my face visibly relaxing in the mirror. I could see my fist punching the air as I mouthed, ‘Yes!’ I wasn’t going to shout it out loud though, because this moment wasn’t for sharing with anyone else. This feeling was mine and only mine – the feeling of relief that Mum and Martha hadn’t come to any harm today, even though I hadn’t handled things very well when it had been my job to look after them.

  Later, the social worker dropped Martha off. I wanted to give my sister a massive hug, but I didn’t want to scare her by making her think I’d been worried about her, so I just gave her an ordinary one instead. I had lots of questions to ask her about what had happened at Kate’s house. I held back until I’d taken her upstairs to show her where she was going to sleep and the two of us were on our own, but Martha didn’t have much to tell me. She’d been sent upstairs to play with Sophie while Mum talked to Kate, and soon after that the police had come and been very kind to her while they explained that Mum wasn’t well and needed to go and see a doctor in the hospital. Martha started asking me loads of questions then, about what was wrong with Mum, and when she would be coming home, and whether we were going to get to visit her in the hospital, and if so should we take her flowers or grapes or both. I couldn’t answer most of her questions, but fortunately she got sidetracked by suddenly remembering something else.

  ‘Mummy took some photos to show Kate and she gave them to me to look after,’ she said. ‘So I showed them to Sophie and she showed me her baby photos and we did a swap.’ She handed me a photograph of Kate and Mum and the two babies, but where the babies didn’t have knitted jackets and bonnets on. ‘Kate and Mummy look really nice because the hairdresser had just been round to do everybody’s hair.’

  I looked at it. Mum did look nice. She looked happy and normal. Mum was holding Martha wrapped in a pink blanket, but this time the baby’s head was uncovered.

  I stared at it.

  The baby Mum was holding – the baby that was supposed to be Martha – had dark hair. Dark hair. Not fair hair like Martha. Mum was right. Kate’s baby was the one with fair hair. Unless . . . I turned the photo over to look at what was written on the back. It was just possible that Mum was holding Kate’s baby in the picture and vice versa. But on the back, written quite clearly, Kate had put, Me with Sophie, and Isobel with Martha, four days old.

  I turned the picture back over and stared from it to my sister.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Martha asked.

  I hid the photograph that evening. I didn’t want anyone else knowing about this. Not until I’d had a chance to ask Dad about it.

  ‘The babies were swapped,’ Mum had said, and nobody had believed her. Even I hadn’t believed her. But what if she was right? I mean, the baby in the picture didn’t look anything like Martha – it couldn’t be her – even though it must have been the baby Mum had just given birth to.

  I couldn’t get to sleep that night for thinking about it. Abby was sharing Susie’s bed tonight, while Martha slept in her bed and I had a camp bed on the floor next to her. I wished I could tell Abby what was on my mind, but I knew that I couldn’t.

  I tried to stop feeling so scared but it was difficult. I mean, I had a dad who was on his way home to me right now, and a mum who was great when she was well. So I don’t know why I felt like my whole world was falling apart. Except that I also had a sister who might not be my sister.

  I climbed out of my bed and into Martha’s. There was no teddy to evict this time because he was still at home. Susie had promised we could go and fetch him tomorrow. I buried my face in Martha’s silky blonde hair and took a deep breath. Maybe if I tried I could breathe her in so that nobody would ever be able to take her away from me.

  The next morning I told Susie I didn’t want to go to school. I couldn’t imagine what they must be saying at school about Mum. I didn’t see how either Mum or I could ever go back there again. I thought I’d end up having an argument with Susie about it, but I was wrong. She sent Abby to school and took Martha because she actually wanted to go, but then she said I could come to work with her today if I liked.

  Susie worked in a little shop that sold antique furniture. ‘Now, Daniel, just don’t touch anything, OK?’ Susie said when we got there.

  I promised I wouldn’t, but I knew it was going to be difficult.

  At lunchtime I was absent-mindedly fiddling with one of the drawers in this posh antique desk when a lady came into the shop who reminded me of Mum. She had long dark hair and big eyes and she was plump in a nice curvy sort of way. I suddenly wanted to see Mum really badly, or at least to know how she was.

  I asked Susie if we could phone the hospital. Mum had been brought back from London so that Dr White could look after her on one of his wards. I kept trying to forget how I’d promised her that she’d never have to go back inside that hospital again, no matter what.

  ‘I don’t know if they’ll let us speak to her, but we can ring up the ward and see how she is,’ Susie replied. She rang the hospital and asked what ward Mum was on. ‘OK, so can you put me through to Elizabeth Ward, please?’

  ‘Elizabeth Ward?’ I felt my eyes start to prick. That was the ward where all those awful mad people had been. ‘I don’t want to speak to her after all,’ I said, running out of the shop.

  Susie joined me outside a few minutes later. She was holding my coat. ‘Put this on or you’ll catch cold.’

  ‘Dad says you catch cold through germs, not through cold weather,’ I grunted dismissively.

  ‘Is that right? Well, maybe there are some germs about just waiting for a nice shivery person to inhabit,’ Susie replied firmly. ‘Put it on.’

  I did as I was told. I’m used to doing as I’m told, I guess. Even now, when I really didn’t feel like doing anything that anyone else asked me to do, here I was being my usual obedient self.

  Susie told me that she’d spoken to the ward manager and found out that Mum was having a nice long sleep at the moment.

  ‘She hasn’t slept properly in ages,’ I told her.

  ‘That’s good then, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t see what’s good about Mum being on a ward full of psychos!’ I was angry with her for looking at me like she felt sorry for me. ‘You must be used to that with your mum, aren’t you?’ I added.

  Susie kept her voice steady. ‘I’ve visited my mother on a psychiatric ward, yes.’ She looked like she was thinking of saying something else on the topic, but she didn’t. ‘Come on. I’m allowed to close up the shop for half an hour. Let’s go and get some lunch.’

  ‘I don’t want any lunch!’

  She ignored that and started doing up the buttons on my coat for me as if I was two years old instead of twelve, and I just stood there like a two year old letting her. It was weird but it actually felt quit
e comforting to be treated like a little kid who wasn’t in charge of anything, not even the doing up of their own buttons. It was much better than being expected to know what to do all the time as if you were a grown-up. I looked up at Susie’s face then, suddenly not feeling angry with her any more, as I realized that she probably knew exactly how I felt.

  I spent one more day at the shop and Martha spent one more day at school before Dad finally arrived home. I reckon both of us were counting the hours the whole time, working out how much longer it was going to be until we saw him. I kept telling myself that as soon as Dad got home he would explain everything about Martha and the baby photographs and it would all become clear again. And yet, what if Dad didn’t know about this either?

  As soon as the doorbell rang on Thursday evening, Martha and I raced to the door.

  ‘Daddy!’ Martha screamed as she charged into his arms.

  ‘Daddy!’ I blurted too before I could stop myself, but I didn’t care if I sounded like a baby, I was just so glad to have him back.

  Martha was cuddling Dad, looking happier than I’d seen her look in ages, as if now that Dad had walked back in through the door all our troubles had magically vanished into thin air.

  Only they hadn’t. But then she didn’t know everything, did she?

  We took Dad through to the living room. Susie and Abby went to make a pot of tea in the kitchen while Martha and I sat next to Dad on the sofa. Martha was asking questions non-stop, and I found myself noticing all the things about Dad again that I’d already spent years noticing, especially his hands. Like the way the veins on the backs of his hands stand out and make a V shape. And how he has a mole on his left wrist just below his watch strap. There were other things that were different though. His face was thinner and his hair looked like it had more grey bits in it than I remembered from before. He hadn’t shaved and he had dark circles under his eyes. It was only later that I thought about how bad he must be feeling, with his mother dying and then this happening to Mum. Right then I was only thinking about how I felt.