Ask Eva

by Judi Curtin

  She stroked Lucky, who cuddled up against the old lady’s soft nightie, and closed her eyes.

  It was a sweet moment, but I couldn’t enjoy it. All I could think was that, at any moment, Nurse Witch could march in, and then everything would be ruined.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, looking at an imaginary watch on my wrist. ‘Is that the time? I’m afraid I must go now. I have to take Lucky home to bed.’

  Eleanor didn’t say anything, but as I reached out my hands, she lifted Lucky and held her towards me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, hardly daring to believe my luck.

  The old lady lay down again.

  ‘Good night,’ I whispered.

  ‘Good night, Madeleine,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  She gave a small smile and closed her eyes. I didn’t have time to wonder who Madeleine was, or why she might be running around a nursing home in the middle of the night with a dog under her arm. I tip-toed out of the room, and along the corridor. Nurse Witch still hadn’t stirred, so I cuddled Lucky close to me and ran up the stairs.

  It was turning into a very long night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I got into Gigi’s room with Lucky, I was greeted like I’d just come back from a six-month expedition to the Arctic Circle. All the old people said stuff like ‘well done’ and ‘clever girl’ and a few of them even started to clap.

  ‘Shhh,’ I said, laughing in spite of all the stress. ‘Nurse Witch will hear, and if she discovers us, Ella and I won’t be able to visit next week.’

  That made everyone fall silent. I was glad about that, but kind of sad too. Why were all these grown-ups so timid and obedient?

  And then, as if she could read my mind –again – Gigi stood up.

  ‘Why are we all so afraid of Nurse Witch?’ she asked, waving her fist in the air.

  ‘She’s just an evil old spoilsport,’ said Nancy.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Fred, rattling his walking frame on the ground. ‘We shouldn’t let her treat us the way she does. We might be old and doddery but we still deserve to be treated with dignity and respect.’

  ‘We should tell Nurse Witch exactly what we think,’ said one of the new ladies. ‘After all, what can she do to us? She can’t hurt us.’

  She was right of course, but I was suddenly scared.

  Was it right for me to encourage these people to rebel, when I was half-afraid of Nurse Witch myself?

  What if they spoke out and ended up making things even worse than before? They’d have to live with the results, while Ella and I could skip off to our lovely homes. That totally wouldn’t be fair.

  Then Gigi sat down. ‘Maybe we’re getting a bit carried away,’ she said. ‘It’s late, and we’re all tired. Why don’t we just go to bed? Tomorrow is a new day.’

  I didn’t know what to say. Had I just witnessed the shortest revolution in world history?

  There was a second’s silence and then the old people began to move. They made their way slowly to the door, whispering their goodbyes as they went.

  Gigi climbed in to bed, and while I wrapped Lucky in my fleece, Ella gently tucked the bedclothes around her granny.

  ‘Good night, Gigi,’ she said. ‘Don’t let the bed-bugs bite.’

  ‘Good night, Darling,’ said Gigi. ‘You’ve made everything different. Everything is better when you two are here.’

  Ella kissed her granny, and then she switched off the light and we tip-toed from the room.

  When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we could see Nurse Witch sitting at her station. Her back was straight and she was all alert, like she knew that someone, somewhere was doing something wrong.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Ella. ‘It’s getting late. If she doesn’t move soon, we’ll never get home before Mum and Dad. If they find out what we’ve been doing, we’re dead – totally dead.’

  ‘Maybe your parents will understand that we were just trying to help Gigi?’

  ‘No way. All they’ll understand is that I broke their rules, and I’ll be grounded for weeks.’

  I hugged Lucky even closer to me. If Ella got grounded, my life wasn’t going to be a whole lot of fun either.

  Just then there was the sound of a bell ringing, and Nurse Witch jumped up. Ella and I ducked back as she marched past. When she was safely gone, I peeped around the corner, just in time to see Nurse Witch disappearing into Eleanor’s room.

  ‘What is it, Eleanor?’ I could hear her saying. ‘It’s very late, and you should be asleep.’

  ‘I want to see the doggie,’ said Eleanor. ‘He was a very nice doggie. Can he come back?’

  ‘You’ve been dreaming,’ said Nurse Witch. ‘There’s no dog here. As you well know, animals aren’t allowed in the building.’

  ‘But he was here,’ said Eleanor. ‘I’m sure of it. And there was a lovely girl too. She said …’

  I wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, but Ella was pulling my arm.

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ she whispered.

  I knew she was right. We escaped from the nursing home, dropped Lucky back to Maggie’s house, and let ourselves in the back door of Ella’s place.

  Just as we were about to take off our jackets and boots, we heard the sound of Ella’s dad’s key in the front door.

  ‘Quick,’ whispered Ella. I raced up the stairs after her, and shoved the rucksack into a cupboard. There was no time to change. Without switching on the light, we both jumped into Ella’s big double bed and pulled the covers up to our chins. A second later, Ella’s mum was at the bedroom door.

  ‘Are you asleep, girls?’ she whispered.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Ella, in a fake sleepy voice.

  Her mum crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed. I hoped she wouldn’t notice that, under the covers, Ella and I still had our boots on.

  ‘Well, I just came to tuck you in and say good-night,’ she said, leaning over to stroke Ella’s face.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said. ‘Are you all right, Ella? Your skin is ice cold. And what about you, Eva? Are you cold too?’

  I shook my head, trying not to laugh. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Just a bit sleepy.’

  Luckily Ella’s mum took the hint. ‘Oh well, she said. ‘I’ll put the heating on for an hour and maybe we need to get you a warmer blanket for your bed, Ella.’

  ‘Yay,’ said Ella, forgetting that she was supposed to be sleepy. ‘There are totally cool fluffy ones in Daly’s. Maybe we should get two, just to be on the safe side. I’d like a purple and a black one, and maybe a few cushions to complete the look.’

  ‘You girls!’ said her Mum.

  She went out, closing the door behind her, and that was the end of another Friday night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Monday, it was lovely and sunny so Ella and I had our lunch on our favourite bench in the farthest corner of the playground.

  ‘I’m kind of worried about Aretta,’ I said as I unwrapped my lunch.

  ‘Why?’ asked Ella, leaning across to see what was in my sandwiches. ‘Oh, chicken – lucky you. Want to swap for my cheese and tomato?’

  I don’t much like chicken sandwiches, so we swapped.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Ella through a mouthful of my sandwich. ‘I haven’t seen Aretta all morning. Why are you worried about her?’

  ‘She’s in my geography class, and she was already at her desk when I got there. At first I thought she was reading her geography book, but then I noticed that it wasn’t even open. I asked her if she was OK, and she said she was, but she didn’t sound at all OK. She sounded really upset.’

  ‘Poor Aretta. What did you do?’

  ‘I know we agreed not to talk to her about personal stuff, but I couldn’t just say nothing. I asked her if she wanted to talk.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She didn’t say anything for ages, and I was starting to think she hadn’t heard me, but then she looked up and I saw that her eyes were all red.’

  ‘She’d b
een crying?’

  ‘That’s what it looked like. ‘Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,’ I said, and for a second, it looked like she was getting ready to talk, but then the teacher came in and started going on about some stupid geography test, and we couldn’t talk any more.’

  ‘And what happened after class?’

  ‘Aretta disappeared, and I haven’t seen her since. I feel like she was ready to talk to me, and now the opportunity has gone.’

  ‘Well maybe you’re going to get another opportunity,’ said Ella. ‘Look who’s coming.’

  Aretta was walking towards us. Her eyes weren’t red any more, but she looked sad and tired.

  I slid across the bench to make room and she sat down between Ella and me.

  ‘Hey, Aretta,’ said Ella. ‘Do you want one of Eva’s sandwiches? They’re totally delicious.’

  Aretta shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry.’ Her voice was so quiet, I could just about hear her.

  I put my hand on her arm. ‘I know you like to keep your personal stuff private, and I promise we’re not trying to spy on you or anything, Aretta,’ I said. ‘But if there’s something wrong, you know you can tell us.’

  Aretta stared at me for a second and then she put her head in her hands. Ella and I looked at each other.

  ‘We only want to help you,’ said Ella.

  ‘No one can help,’ said Aretta from between her fingers.

  ‘Try us,’ I said.

  ‘Eva’s great at helping people,’ said Ella. ‘She’s done all kinds of amazing things. I’ve told you before about how she saved Ruby’s swimming trials, but there’s lots more. Once she saved an ancient old tree from being cut down, and last year she solved a crime that had been a mystery for nearly a hundred years. Sometimes, when a problem is really big, only Eva can sort it out.’

  I could feel myself going red. Ella’s confidence in me was nice, but I didn’t want Aretta to have false hopes. It’s not like I can work miracles.

  ‘And even if we can’t help,’ continued Ella. ‘Just talking about stuff might make you feel better.’

  Aretta looked up again.

  ‘Can I tell you about my life?’ she said.

  ‘Sure,’ said Ella, and I nodded in agreement. Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be a funny story about the cool things Aretta used to do with her mum in Nigeria.

  ‘Like I told you before,’ Aretta began. ‘Eight years ago I came to Ireland with my dad and my brother, and at first we lived in Kilkenny.’

  ‘Kilkenny’s nice,’ I said. ‘We went there once on a school tour.’

  Ella nudged me and I stopped talking. Aretta probably didn’t want to hear about my day-trip to Kilkenny.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Go on.’

  Aretta gave a tiny smile. ‘My school in Kilkenny was great. I told you about the basketball already, but we played loads of other sports too. I made lots of really nice friends, but …’

  ‘Go on,’ said Ella, in a gentle voice.

  ‘Because we were asylum seekers, we had to live in a direct provision centre.’

  ‘Like the one you live in now?’ I said.

  ‘Not exactly. We are guests in this country, and we are grateful for what we get, but …’

  There was a long silence, and I began to wonder if Aretta had changed her mind about confiding in us. Then she spoke in a big rush.

  ‘The direct provision centre in Kilkenny was really, really awful. The manager, Mr Richards, treated us like we were animals. Whole families had to live in one tiny bedroom, and these rooms were too cold in winter and too warm in summer. We had no facilities to cook our own meals. We had to eat in a big ugly hall that always smelled bad, like rotten vegetables. The food was nasty, as if the manager deliberately picked things we wouldn’t like.’

  ‘So why did you stay?’ I asked.

  Aretta shrugged. ‘We didn’t have any choice. It’s not like we could move up the road to a five star hotel or a fancy penthouse apartment. We had to stay with the horrible Mr Richards.’

  ‘That all sounds awful,’ said Ella.

  ‘It was,’ said Aretta. ‘But we learned to put up with it. My father told my brother and me that we would have to be patient. One day our application to stay in Ireland will be accepted, he said, and then our lives will change forever. When my brother and I couldn’t sleep, our father sat on our beds and told us stories of the lovely house we would all live in when we left the centre. He told us about the garden he would make for us, with swings and a little pond for fish. He said that one day, our mother would come and live with us there, and we would all be happy again.’

  I could feel tears coming to my eyes. I looked at Ella, but she was rubbing her face, like dust had blown on it or something. Aretta wasn’t crying though. Her face was still and sad.

  ‘As my brother got older, he didn’t want to listen to those stories any more. He was angry all the time, and he fought with my father a lot. It was not easy, sharing a bedroom with those too, I can tell you. And then …’

  There was another long silence. I didn’t want to rush her, but lunch-time was nearly over, and I had a funny feeling that if Aretta didn’t finish her story before the bell rang, then she might never finish it.

  ‘And then what?’ I said as gently as I could.

  ‘And then something terrible happened.’ Now Aretta’s voice was almost a whisper, like what she was describing was still happening in a hidden corner of her mind.

  ‘It was dinner-time, the worst time of the day. There was a woman sitting at the table near us, with her little girl. When the food came out, the woman said that she was very sorry, but she could not eat it, because of her religious beliefs. She very politely asked the woman who served the food if she and her little girl could have something else. And then Mr Richards came along and started screaming at her. He said the woman should have made her request before the food was cooked, and the woman said she did not have a chance, because her little girl was sick. And then … and then … and then my brother jumped up, and before my father could do anything about it, my brother punched Mr Richards in the face. My brother is not very good at punching, and I don’t think Mr Richards was really hurt, but he acted like he was going to die. He screamed and shouted and said he would have my brother locked up for twenty years.’

  ‘But that’s so unfair,’ I said. ‘It sounds like Mr Richards was totally mean to that woman. He’s the one who should be locked up.’

  Aretta nodded. ‘In the end Mr Richards calmed down. I think he knew he might get into trouble too – because he’s supposed to provide special food for people who have strict religious beliefs. So he made a big fuss about how forgiving he could be. He said that if my family agreed to go back to Nigeria, he wouldn’t call the police or bring charges against my brother.’

  ‘But you didn’t go back to Nigeria,’ I said.

  ‘No. We couldn’t. For one thing, going back would be dangerous for us, and also … well, I’ve been here for so long, I think I’m more Irish than Nigerian now. Those stories I tell you about Nigeria – well, they’re just stories my dad has told me. Sometimes I feel like he made them all up. I’ve been here for most of my life, and going back – well, going back would be like going to a foreign country.’

  ‘So how did you end up here?’ asked Ella.

  ‘One of the social workers was really nice. She found us a place here, but my brother refused to come with us. He went to Dublin to stay in a different centre, with his girlfriend and her family.’

  I don’t have any brothers or sisters, but even so, I guessed it must be hard to be parted from the only one you had.

  Ella seemed to read my mind. ‘You must miss your brother,’ she said.

  ‘I do,’ said Aretta. ‘But even so, I thought the move here might be a good thing. It meant we would be far away from Mr Richards.’

  ‘And is the centre here better?’ I asked.

  Aretta nodded. ‘It isn’t perfect, but mostly it’s OK. The buildi
ng looks like it’s about to fall down, but the people who work there are nice. The manager treats us well. The only problem is……’

  Before she could finish, the bell rang to tell us that lunch-time was over. I felt like crying. This was like my mum telling me to put away my book when it’s time to go to sleep – only a million times worse.

  Ella jumped up. ‘Sorry, guys,’ she said. ‘But Mr Dean’s on the warpath. If he catches us here when we should be on the way to class, we’ll be in after-school detention for a week.’

  She was right. And even though after-school detention wouldn’t be much fun for Ella or me, it would be even worse for Aretta who was always gone from school about three seconds after the last bell rang.

  As we stood up, a sudden gust of wind caught the wrappings from Ella’s sandwiches and they flew through the air.

  ‘Quick, Eva, help me,’ shouted Ella. ‘If we’re caught littering, we’ll get double detention.’

  I raced after her, and when we came back with the scraps of paper, Aretta was already gone.

  ‘Poor Aretta,’ said Ella as we hurried back to class. ‘Imagine having all those terrible things happen to you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s totally awful, but still, I don’t get what’s going on.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, Aretta was kind of ok last week, and the week before, but today she’s all red-eyed and sad.’

  ‘She’s probably missing her mum and her brother.’

  ‘But they’ve been gone all the time.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just sunk in,’ said Ella. ‘Like delayed shock or something.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘That can’t be it. She wouldn’t have changed so quickly. Something else must have happened – and I think she’d have told us about it if the bell hadn’t rung right in the middle of her story.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. We’ll have to try double-hard to catch her after school, and give her a chance to tell us what’s going on.

  But, once again, Aretta managed to leave school without us seeing her. I met Ella at the gate, and she shook her head.