by Maria Grace
‘Mam,’ I said, and tried to settle my nerves.
‘Good girl.’ Karra smiled proudly.
I stood for a moment, slightly dazed.
Karra blew out some smoke rings and said, ‘Well, at least one of us has had a missed-poxy-call today.’
SIXTEEN
I was sitting in the back of Mel’s car.
I leant my head against the window and watched everything go by. I remembered travelling through the same streets on the very first day I arrived at the children’s home.
I was as nervous now as I was back then.
We drove down the hill, and there it was, greeting me like it always did, with its beautiful white petals, like pearls. I had grown to love the white rose bush. Whenever I felt lonely or confused, I would walk to the park and sit quietly on the swings near the white roses. Just being in their presence made me feel better. The rose bush was so similar to the one we used to have at home. Even though I knew there was no way it was the same one, I liked to pretend it was.
Dad loved gardening. When he was alive, our garden was like something from one of those posh magazines. He took care of the rose bush every day to make sure it produced the most magical white roses I had ever seen. But after he died, they stopped growing. The rose bush looked how we felt inside – empty. Poor Mum was always asking if the roses had come back yet, and seemed devastated each time I said no. Like she thought the roses were actually a part of Dad, and if they came back, then maybe he would come back too.
When Nana Rose died a year later, Mum went to pieces. She had lost her husband and her mother within a year, and every ounce of grief showed itself in her skin. Like a disease, it spread right down to the root of her. By the time I reached fourteen, the grief was too strong for her, so she just gave up.
The rose bush disappeared from sight as we drove away, and Mel was wittering on in the front about her boyfriend. She was telling me how inadequate he was, and that I should never go for an inadequate man.
‘They reckon that most people go for someone who reminds them of their parents or siblings,’ she said.
‘Gross.’ I scrunched up my nose.
‘Oh, yes, it’s common knowledge!’ she carried on. ‘I honestly believe that’s why I go for inadequate men.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because my father’s a knob.’
I laughed from the back of the car, and she winked at me in the front mirror.
‘My dad was pretty cool,’ I told her, and then leant my head against the window again.
‘I know he was, Em.’ She smiled gently at me.
We turned into the car park of the hospital.
‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Are you nervous?’
I shrugged my shoulders as I looked down again at the white velvet rose on my lucky cardigan.
My stomach started churning like it was full of gone-off milk.
We got out of the car and walked towards the double doors of the front entrance.
The place looked so gloomy. Concrete everywhere. I thought it was the last place you should put depressed people. If they weren’t mental before they got there, they’d be mental by the time they left. How could anyone get better in a place like this?
I started getting upset, thinking how Mum must see this every day. This was her view. When she looked out of her window, this was all she saw … grey.
I bit my lip to stop myself crying, but my eyes filled up like a boiling kettle and I had to take a few seconds to breathe and let out the steam.
I folded my arms as I walked in. We were met by a member of staff in a blue uniform.
‘Emmeline?’
I nodded and Mel shook the man’s hand.
‘My name is Seth.’ He smiled at me. ‘I’m your mum’s name nurse. Your mother has been looking forward to seeing you.’
I didn’t know what a name nurse was, but I nodded and smiled back at him anyway.
I could taste blood in my mouth, and I realised that my lip was bleeding from where I’d been biting it.
‘How is she?’ Mel asked the man.
‘She’s OK,’ he replied. ‘She’s having a good day today.’
SEVENTEEN
The corridors smelt of disinfectant.
We followed Seth. I clutched the sleeves of my lucky cardigan. He had to buzz us in through the doors by tapping a code into a monitor on the wall. The doors opened automatically to let us into a bright ward with white, clinical walls.
As we walked past the patients, I tried not to stare.
A woman sat in a green chair, holding her head and whispering to herself. Next to her, another lady was holding rosary beads and praying repeatedly.
We passed the day room. There were people watching telly, reading books and playing board games. There was a man sitting at a table, who seemed to be cleaning an apple.
I looked for my mother, but there was no sign of her.
There was a little serving hatch in the wall. It was similar to the one we used in the children’s home to transfer food through to the dining room. Except this one wasn’t for food. There were people in pyjamas and dressing gowns queuing up outside the hatch and being served tiny cups. A nurse stood next to the queue, checking their tongues. I could hear the patients saying, ‘Ahhhhh,’ with their mouths open, sticking their tongues out, like when you visit the doctor for a bad throat.
‘Why are they doing that?’ I asked Seth-the-name-nurse.
‘We have to make sure that they’re taking their medication,’ he said.
‘Do they not take them?’
‘Well, most of them do,’ he replied, ‘but some patients… They like to hide them.’
‘What for?’
He looked warily at Mel, and she quickly changed the subject.
We walked to the end of the ward, and I was still wondering about the medication when he announced that this was Mum’s room.
‘Knock, knock!’ he sang as he opened the door. ‘Tess, love! You have a visitor! Look! It’s Emmeline!’
She was sitting by the side of her bed in a blue armchair.
Her blonde hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and her face was pale. She’d lost quite a bit of weight. She looked so small in the chair, like a child who couldn’t quite reach the floor with her feet.
She looked up, and I don’t think she realised what was going on for a second, because she had a kind of delayed reaction before she registered that it was me. As soon as she did, she jumped off the chair and threw herself at me, flinging her arms around my neck and kissing me a hundred times all over my face.
‘Calm down, Mum!’ I laughed and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s only me!’
She was crying. Big, bomping tears ran down her face. She turned away from me so I couldn’t see them. Her nose was running, so I reached up my hand – still clutching the sleeve of my lucky cardigan – and I pinched her nose with my thumb and index finger to wipe it for her.
‘I’m full of snot!’ She laughed, her voice croaky from the tears.
‘You’re OK.’ I hugged her tightly.
The visit was a little awkward to begin with. We hadn’t seen each other since the day she was taken into hospital, and part of me resented that she didn’t seem to understand the massive effect that day had on Grandma Coalman, my sister and me. I had to remind myself that Mum was unwell – she didn’t do it on purpose.
We read a magazine together and did a crossword which promised a holiday to Jamaica if we won. She got a bit brighter and was chatting away to me and Mel. Her speech was a little rushed, but I think that was from the medication. She was asking about Freya and Grandma Coalman, and she kept asking if we knew when she would be allowed home. Mel said that Mum would be staying a while longer, another few weeks probably, just so the doctors could make sure that she was definitely well enough to go home.
‘I can’t even remember much of what happened,’ Mum said, staring out of the window. ‘I just remember feeling so trapped.’ She gasped slightly. ‘Can you remembe
r it, Em?’
I didn’t know whether to tell the truth or lie.
Mel must have sensed my discomfort because she started talking to Mum about something else.
I stared at the magazine page in front of me, and my mind travelled back to that day.
It was the last day of school.
I was in geography class, sitting by the window, praying for an escape before I died of boredom. If I’d known my prayers were going to be answered, I would have asked for snow. At least that way, we could have had some fun.
There was a knock on the door and the Deputy Head came in and asked if he could see me for a moment.
I was a little embarrassed. You know that feeling when a teacher wants to see you? It always feels like you’re in trouble. Even if you know you haven’t done anything wrong, you still panic. A bit like when you walk out of a shop and the alarm goes off. Even though you know you haven’t taken anything, you still worry that they’ll ask to search your bag, and somehow there’ll be something stolen in it.
I got up and he told me to bring my things with me.
We walked up to his office in silence.
Awks.
The school counsellor was waiting in the office, and she told me to sit down. She explained that there had been an ‘incident’ at home. She didn’t want me to panic, but somebody would be here shortly to pick me up from school. She said that the police had been called out to our address, and they needed my help with a situation.
‘What situation?’ I asked.
She said that she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but she knew that the situation concerned my mother, and the police needed my assistance.
When I arrived at the house, there was furniture all over the front garden. Some of the front windows had been smashed and glass littered the garden path. There were police outside, and a couple of them were trying to get Mum to let them into the house, but she was having none of it.
The police asked if I would knock on the door because apparently Mum had insisted that she needed me, and only me.
They told me that a policewoman would come in with me to see if we could ‘defuse the situation’.
As soon as I knocked on the front door, I saw Mum’s face squash up against the glass to see who it was. I couldn’t help but laugh. The policewoman didn’t look impressed.
‘Mum, it’s me!’ I said.
There was a couple of seconds’ silence while she considered this. Her face was firmly pressed into the glass, making her look a bit distorted with a fat nose.
‘Who’s Me?’ she asked.
‘It’s me,’ I repeated. ‘Emmeline. Come on, Mum. Open the door!’
She unbolted the door and opened it a tiny bit. All you could see was her eye, peering at me through the gap. Then her arm shot out like a cobra, and she grabbed me.
‘Quick!’ She was manic. ‘Before they see us!’
She pulled me straight in and tried to shut the front door, but the policewoman jammed her foot in and the door wouldn’t close. Mum was banging herself against it, trying to force the door shut.
‘It’s OK, Mum.’ I tried to control the nerves in my voice. ‘She’s my friend. I’ve brought her home for tea.’
Mum eyed me suspiciously. She knew that I never brought people back for tea.
‘Why is she wearing that?’ She nodded at the policewoman’s uniform.
‘Red Nose Day,’ I replied. ‘It’s fancy dress. I’m putting my costume on in a minute.’
I could see she was still wary, so I smiled and said, ‘I thought she could try some of your apple pie. She loves apple pie, but her mum isn’t a very good cook so I said she could try yours.’
The expression on her face changed to relief.
‘Ohhh!’ Mum flashed her most welcoming smile. ‘I am sorry! How rude of me! Come in, love. Make yourself at home!’ She opened the door, and stuck her head out of it, looking quickly up and down the road, scanning for intruders.
The policewoman came into the house, and Mum was trying to be the perfect hostess – all the while checking the windows, doors, locks and telephones. She looked in the kitchen to see if she had any cooking apples, but realised there were none left.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t want you to go hungry, but I’ve just no apples here!’
‘That’s fine,’ said the policewoman. ‘I’m not very hungry, but I’m sure your apple pie is lovely!’
‘Oh, it is!’ Mum looked proud. ‘It’s delish! Isn’t it, Em?’
I nodded.
‘I would ring my mother-in-law to pick up some cooking apples,’ said Mum. ‘But I daren’t use the telephone, because the government is monitoring my phone calls.’
The policewoman raised her eyebrows. ‘Why do you think the government is monitoring your phone calls?’
‘Because my husband wants to speak to me,’ replied Mum, ‘but they won’t let him get through.’
This hit me like a smack in the face, and I tried to keep myself together. I hadn’t realised how bad Mum was. How had I not noticed how unstable she was getting? I should have made sure that she was taking her medication properly.
‘Did you know,’ Mum spoke animatedly, ‘if you use your mobile phone for Facebook, they’re allowed to access your phone and watch you through your camera at any time they want?’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said the policewoman.
Mum pursed her lips and nodded indignantly.
‘My throat is really dry,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to get a drink.’
‘NO!’ Mum shouted at me. ‘Stay … right … there. I’ll get it for you. Keep an eye on that window for me!’
Mum went to make us a glass of squash. When she left the living room, the policewoman told me to just go with the flow and not to say or do anything that might freak Mum out. ‘Just keep the conversation as easy as possible,’ she said. ‘You’re doing really well, Emmeline.’
‘Is that true about Facebook being able to look at you through your phone camera?’ I asked her.
‘God knows,’ replied the policewoman. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me!’
When Mum came back, we all sat in the living room, talking about apple pie.
I was on the sofa, thinking how bizarre it was that the window was smashed but we were just sitting there, chatting, like it was perfectly normal.
Mum got up again and paced back and forth, constantly checking the windows.
‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ I asked.
She appeared from behind the curtain, with wide eyes and a gossipy look.
‘Don’t ask!’ She threw her hands in the air.
She sat back on the chair and lit a cigarette, never once taking her eyes from the window. When she thought the coast was clear, she looked at me like she had some really juicy news.
‘I won’t lie to you, Em…’ She inhaled deeply, and blew out the smoke in a rush. ‘It’s your father. He Is Out-Of-Control! The man is MAD! There’s no reasoning with him! Have you seen what he’s done? Have you seen it?’ She gestured to the mess that surrounded us.
Oh balls.
She’d done it this time.
Mum took another deep drag of her cigarette.
‘He’s a bastard!’ she shouted, her voice getting higher. ‘He did all this, you know. He’s wrecked the house! Look! Look what he’s done to my good vase!’
She picked up a piece of broken glass and waved it around. ‘This was an anniversary gift! It’s expensive! What will I put my roses in now? Has he even brought them yet?’
‘Brought what?’ I asked.
‘MY ROSES!’ she shouted.
I stared at her.
‘Mum, have you been taking your medication?’ I asked.
She scoffed. ‘I’m not taking that again. They think I’m stupid, Em. They’re trying to drug me.’
She started laughing. ‘Well, more fool them! I haven’t put that filth into my system for ages! And it just proves that I don’t need it, because I’m
ab-so-lute-lyfine.’
‘Clearly.’ I buried my head in my hands.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to sort all this out, though!’ she said in a huff. ‘He can pay for the damage. I know he’s your father, Em, and God knows I love the man, but this! This just takes the piss!’
Her hands were shaking.
‘Mum…’ I started choking up a bit. ‘Dad’s not here. He passed away ages ago. He didn’t do all this. He couldn’t have.’
She looked at me for a second, trying to compute what I was saying. ‘No,’ she said.
What did she mean, no?
‘No,’ she repeated.
The policewoman shifted in her seat.
‘NO!’ She shook her head. ‘NO! NO! NOOOO!’ she shouted over and over again. ‘He’s a bastard!’
The policewoman got up and tried to calm Mum down.
I started crying. I was scared.
My mobile rang. I looked at the screen – it was Megan. She was probably phoning to see why I had to leave school early.
‘WHO’S THAT?’ Mum screamed at me. She looked terrified. ‘Don’t you answer that! Don’t you dare answer that, Emmeline! They’ll be listening!’
She dived at me, grabbed my mobile and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and broke into little pieces.
My phone! I’d only just sorted out my contacts list! I’d matched everyone’s names up with their profile pictures! What was I going to do now?
She started running around the house, smashing everything and throwing things against the walls. I had never seen her like this before. It was really frightening.
‘Request for backup.’ The policewoman spoke into her walkie-talkie. She turned to me. ‘Stay in here,’ she said.
I sat on the sofa, panicking. Why was she calling for backup? What did that mean?
I got down on my hands and knees to try and pick up the pieces of my broken phone. I looked at all the bits scattered around the room, and I couldn’t control my tears.
I could hear the policewoman speaking to my mother in the kitchen. ‘Tess…’ The policewoman tried to keep her calm. ‘Why don’t you put the knife down?’