One Day at a Time

by Susan Lewis

  Chapter Sixteen

  Susan

  ‘SSSH,’ SADIE GIGGLES as we hug ourselves tightly to the art-room Terrapin, trying to keep out of sight of the main school. (A Terrapin is a big hut with steps up to it and lots of windows – a bit like a portable classroom, I suppose.)

  ‘I’ll go and see if anyone’s inside,’ Cheryl gamely offers, and tiptoeing on ahead, she climbs the steps and peers in through the porthole window of the door.

  ‘All clear,’ she calls back.

  The rest of us, me, Sadie, Peg, Sally and Ros, scuttle as quickly as we can to the steps and disappear like we’re being swallowed up into the art room.

  ‘OK, everybody grab one,’ I say, ‘the biggest you can find.’

  ‘What colour?’ Ros asks.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Any will do.’

  Moving like a tornado we rush round the art room scooping up giant cans of powder paint, and when everyone has one tucked under their arm, we tiptoe out again, even though there’s no one around to hear us.

  Getting back to the main building is chancy, because for some of the way we’re in full view of the sixth-form common room and Dot’s private flat. If anyone sees us we’ve got a story ready, the trouble is I’ve forgotten what it is, so I’m really hoping that either someone else remembers, or, better still, that we don’t get caught. (This might get me expelled, but we have to commit the whole crime before anyone finds out, or it won’t be serious enough.)

  By the time we get round to the stable block, no one’s come out to ask what we’re up to so it seems we’re in the clear.

  ‘I can’t open the fucking door,’ Peg swears, shoving herself against a small one that leads into the boiler rooms.

  ‘It was open just now,’ Sadie hisses. ‘Someone must have locked it.’

  We look round cautiously. If someone’s split on us, and we find out who, they’ll be paying for the rest of their lives. There’s no one about, and all the windows that overlook the stable yard are empty. No one seems to be watching, but we’re very exposed standing where we are like this, so we have to get out of sight soon.

  ‘Give it another push,’ I say. ‘All of us together.’

  Sadie gets hold of the handle, we all surge forward and go flying in through the door, landing in a tangled, hysterical heap on the cobwebby floor.

  ‘Didn’t you think to turn the handle?’ Sadie accuses Peg.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Cheryl says as we pick ourselves up. ‘We’re in now, so let’s get on with it.’

  The room is dark, hot and smelly, and probably full of rats and spiders, but we try to ignore all that as we set about doing what we came here to do.

  It was my idea to empty powder paint into the water tanks to change the colour of the water. I overheard a couple of fifth-form girls talking about it at supper last Friday. They were saying how someone had attempted it once, expecting to turn the water red, but it hadn’t worked, which was a pity because it was a brilliant idea.

  I thought so too, which is why I decided we should give it a go, and we shouldn’t limit ourselves to just red, because maybe whoever tried it before us hadn’t put in enough tins of powder.

  I think it’s fantastic the way everyone is helping me to get expelled. They understand how important it is for me to go home and be with Kev, especially since we got engaged over Christmas. (That’s what I’ve told them, and they seem to believe me, even though I don’t have a ring yet, but I’ve said he’s still saving up to get me one, which, for all I know, he might be.)

  ‘When’s he coming up to see you?’ Peg wanted to know.

  ‘He can’t, you idiot! Remember how old he is. If he gets caught he’d really be in trouble.’

  ‘I don’t think he exists,’ she scoffed.

  I wanted to whack her, but instead I turned to Sadie. ‘Does he, or doesn’t he exist?’ I demanded.

  ‘I’ve met him,’ Sadie told Peg, which really shut her up.

  ‘So have I,’ Cheryl added, which shut her up even more.

  Stupid cow.

  She’s all right though really, especially when she’s willing to get into trouble herself in order to help me get out of here.

  ‘What shall we do with the cans?’ Ros asks when they’re all empty.

  Since she’s only a first-former, and is struck on me, she’s allowed to ask stupid questions.

  ‘We take them back to the art room,’ Sally answers sarcastically.

  ‘No, we don’t,’ I tell Ros. ‘We leave them here. Now let’s go before someone comes.’

  By the time we get to the rec area we’re all in hysterics again, but we refuse to tell anyone why, which gets them all worked up, and snooty, making us laugh even more. I’m glad I’m not one of them, it’s much more fun being us.

  ‘How long do you think it’ll take for the water to change colour?’ Sadie whispers to me when we’re on our way up to bed.

  ‘How do I know? Let’s hope it’s soon and it’s black.’

  Eddie

  ‘Thank you for coming again, Mr Lewis,’ Dr Leigh says.

  I quickly tuck my cap under my arm in order to shake his hand.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  Our Susan’s outside in the waiting room. I’m still feeling wretched about the morning she went back to school, even though I wrote her a letter that same day to apologise. I said sorry again while we were on our way here. She told me she’d already forgotten it, but given how shirty she was with me, I don’t think she has.

  I’ve no idea what Dr Leigh said to her during their session, or what she said to him. She still hasn’t told me much about the last time we came, except she thinks it was boring and a waste of time.

  ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’ Dr Leigh asks.

  I wonder if he’s making pleasant chat, or if this is relevant to our session. ‘It was lovely, thank you,’ I say, and I immediately wonder if he asked our Susan the same question and got a different reply.

  He smiles. ‘That’s good. And did Susan enjoy it?’

  Is he trying to trick me? I’m not sure, but I don’t want to be rude, so I say, ‘She had a nice lot of presents, and I think she was glad to be home for a while.’

  ‘What did she do during the break?’

  I shift about in my chair as I recall the night I frogmarched her back from the bus stop, and the other times she disappeared without telling me where she was going. I’m sure she won’t have told him about that, and though I’d dearly love to ask his advice on how to handle her, I’m too afraid that if he thinks I can’t cope he’ll end up recommending that she doesn’t come home for holidays any more. That’d break both our hearts. So all I say is, ‘We went to see her aunties, and her grandmother.’

  He nods. ‘Does she have many friends around where you live?’

  I swallow hard. ‘Yes. She’s grown up with most of them.’

  ‘And what about a boyfriend?’

  Though it feels like a blow, I have a go at laughing it off. ‘She’s too young for that,’ I remind him. Then, afraid she might have told him about the Sawyer boy, I add, ‘Of course, she has a few crushes, mostly on pop stars, and friends’ older brothers, you know the sort of thing. Girls her age, their heads are full of romantic nonsense.’

  He smiles again and seems to agree, which is a relief.

  ‘Do you talk much, the two of you?’ he asks.

  I wish I knew the best way to answer that, but without knowing where it’s leading all I can say is, ‘Quite a bit.’

  ‘What about, mainly?’

  ‘Oh, you know, all sorts of things. I try to help with her lessons, and get her interested in what’s going on in the world.’

  ‘And does she readily engage?’

  I swallow again. ‘Usually.’

  He nods and looks down at his notes. ‘Tell me, Mr Lewis,’ he says, ‘does Susan ever talk about her mother?’

  The question throws me so much that I feel myself starting to sweat. ‘Not really,’ I reply.

&nbs
p; ‘Do you ever mention your wife to your children?’

  I wouldn’t mind leaving now, but then I decide there’s probably no harm in telling the truth, so I say, ‘Not very often. I don’t see the point in upsetting them, and I think it would if I started talking about her when I’ve already explained to them that she’s gone to heaven.’

  He writes something down on his notepad, then asks, ‘Do you think Susan’s behaviour at school might be in some way connected to losing her mother?’

  I have to admit I do think that, but we can’t bring Eddress back, can we – and if he thinks she is still missing her mother he might wonder if it’s because I’m not doing a good enough job with her. I’m not, I know that, but I’m so afraid they’ll stop me from seeing her that all I say is, ‘Obviously it hasn’t been easy for her, a mother is a big influence in a child’s life, but I think what’s happening now is that she’s trying to grow up too quickly. She’s a headstrong girl who, if she doesn’t get her own way, makes us all suffer. Even her grandmother says that.’

  He makes some more notes, and I feel like getting out my own notebook to show him that two can play at that game. ‘Is Susan’s grandmother on her maternal side, or paternal?’ he wants to know.

  ‘Maternal.’

  ‘And does she have a close relationship with her?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how old is her grandmother?’

  ‘Eighty-two.’

  ‘And is she in good health?’

  ‘She’s got diabetes, and she has a job walking, so she doesn’t get out much, but other than that, she’s not too bad considering her age.’

  ‘How many other grandchildren does she have?’

  ‘She says it’s forty-five, but I’m sure that includes great-grandchildren too. Probably even some great-great-grandchildren by now.’

  Off goes his pen again, and I can feel mine starting to twitch, a bit like a sword sharpening up for a fight.

  ‘Tell me, do you think it would be in Susan’s best interests for her to return home to live?’ he asks.

  He’s really gone and floored me now. If I say yes, it might let her out of Red Maids, which would deprive her of the lovely future her mother had planned, and if I say no they might think I don’t want her and take her out anyway and send her even further away. ‘I was hoping,’ I hear myself say, ‘that you might be able to give me some advice about that.’

  Susan

  ‘It has come to my attention,’ Dot’s saying in her deepest manly voice, ‘that the water in this school has turned purple.’

  We’re all doing our best to keep a straight face, but it’s really hard. Laura nudges me, even though she wasn’t a part of it, but she knows it was me, and her shoulders are shaking with laughter. I sneak a look behind me to where Sadie and Cheryl are standing in the third-form rows. They’re doing their best to look all innocent too, but I can see they’re nearly splitting their sides.

  We’re in morning assembly, with Dot up on the stage and several of the teachers standing along the side of the hall like ravens about to go in for the kill. I feel a bit like a tasty snack as they eye me up, so I deliberately turn away from them.

  It’s taken four days for the water to change colour, but it finally has, and we were all laughing so much this morning, when we went into the bathrooms and turned on the taps, that we nearly missed the breakfast bell.

  ‘I won’t ask who’s responsible for this childish act of sabotage,’ Dot goes on. ‘Susan Lewis, I’ll see you in my study straight after morning prayers.’

  ‘What?’ I cry. ‘Why me? Ouch!’ Bloody Scatty’s only given me a clout on the back of the head. She’s going to suffer for that in our next English lesson, just let her wait and see.

  ‘Everyone kneel,’ Dot orders.

  Down we go, catching our stockings on the rough wooden floor and splintering our knees as we put our hands together and close our eyes. I feel a nudge in my back and turn round. It’s come down the line from Sadie, who gives me the thumbs up. I grin, then quickly put my head down before Scatty can biff me again.

  ‘Almighty and most merciful Father, we have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep …’

  As Dot drones on I think about the reason Sadie gave me the thumbs up. I know it’s because this might get me expelled, or at least one step closer. It would be fantastic if it happened today, because I’ve been back for two weeks now and Kev hasn’t answered even one of my letters. Everyone says that’s typical of men, so I shouldn’t be worried, but I know they’re all thinking it’s really strange when we’re supposed to be engaged. Privately I’ve wondered if he can actually write, but I wouldn’t say that to anyone because I don’t want them to think he’s thick, and really, I’m sure he can.

  Yesterday, Dad and I went to see Dr Leigh again. It was horrible and boring and I wish we could stop going, because he keeps on asking questions I don’t want to answer.

  ‘Do you feel angry inside?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I answered, even though I sometimes do, quite a lot.

  ‘What would you say to your mother if you could see her again?’

  My insides turned over when he asked that because I thought she might be about to walk in the room. I even looked at the door in case it opened. It didn’t, though, and for a minute I wanted to hit him for making me think she was there. ‘I wouldn’t say anything,’ I told him.

  He didn’t look as though he believed me. ‘Do you feel she’s let you down?’

  Yes, I do, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, when it wasn’t her fault she died. So I said, ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think you should be taking her place at home, looking after your father and brother?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answered, hoping he would agree.

  ‘How would you feel if your father got married again?’

  I felt my face turning red when he asked that, and I almost got up and ran away. ‘He’s not going to,’ I told him fiercely. ‘He doesn’t want to.’

  He wrote something down, then said, ‘Do you believe your mother loved you?’

  ‘Of course she did,’ I snapped. I keep worrying that she might not have, but I’m not going to tell him that.

  ‘And what about your father? Do you believe that he loves you too?’

  I know he does, but I found it hard to answer because I was nearly crying. So I nodded.

  ‘Do you think, when you get into trouble, that you could be testing him, to find out if he’ll love you no matter what?’

  I didn’t know what to say to that, because me getting into trouble has nothing to do with Dad, apart from wanting to be at home with him.

  He went on waiting for an answer.

  ‘No, I don’t think I’m testing him,’ I said, still trying not to cry, because I hate the thought of upsetting Dad, even though I have to sometimes or I’ll never get to go home.

  ‘What would you like to do when you leave school?’ the doctor asked. ‘What kind of career would you like to pursue?’

  That one was easy. ‘I want to get married and have children.’

  He looked surprised. ‘Any desire to go to college or university?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any ambition to become a lawyer, a social worker, a manager of some kind?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think you’re helping yourself by always saying no?’

  ‘No.’

  He raised an eyebrow, then I realised he’d caught me out.

  ‘Tell me about your friends,’ he said. ‘Are they mostly older or younger than you?’

  ‘Older.’

  ‘Very much older?’

  I thought about Kev and said, ‘Some of them, yes, but I’m not like other girls my age. I’ve had to grow up more quickly.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because I haven’t got a mother.’

  He wrote something down again, then luckily the buzzer sounded on his desk and it was Dad’s turn to come in, an
d mine to wait outside, so off I went. I kept my head down as Dad went past so he wouldn’t see I was still on the verge of crying.

  Actually, being left on my own in the waiting room gave me a good opportunity to run away, because I know how to get from the clinic to Kev’s factory, but I was in my uniform and I’d rather die than let him see me in that.

  Later, when we were driving back to school, Dad said, ‘How did you get on with Dr Leigh?’

  ‘All right,’ I replied. I thought again about the way he asked if I was testing Dad. Why did he have to say that? Of course I wasn’t testing him.

  ‘What sort of things did he ask you?’

  ‘Just dumb things. What did he ask you?’

  He took his time answering, and in the end he said, ‘Just dumb things too,’ and then we didn’t talk about it any more.

  I’m in Dot’s study now, standing in front of her desk while she talks to someone on the phone. It sounds like it’s about the work they’re having to do to clean out the hot-water tanks.

  When she’s finished she replaces the receiver and looks at me with her witchy eyes. ‘Are you going to own up to this crime, or do we have to go through a time-wasting process of denial?’ she asks.

  What I really want to say is, up to you, but actually I’m quite scared of Dot so instead I say, ‘All right, it was me.’

  She nods, and I think she’s quite pleased that I’ve decided to be honest. ‘Now I’d like the names of the other culprits please.’

  She’s got to be joking! ‘I did it on my own,’ I tell her.

  She seems to sink with disappointment. ‘Are you trying to tell me you stole six large cans of powder paint from the art room single-handedly?’ she asks.

  I can see why she’s finding it hard to believe, but she’s not going to get me to split on anyone, so all I say is, ‘No, miss.’

  ‘Then what are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘Nothing, miss.’

  She sighs. ‘The theft alone is putting you straight into detention,’ she informs me. ‘The mindless act of tipping all that powder paint into the water tanks is earning you another, plus a bill for the plumber’s work that is now being carried out. Your refusal to co-operate with the names of your accomplices means that you will have to serve their detentions for them. It would seem logical to assume that there were at least four of you, so you will now serve six detentions, one after the other, which, by my calculations, means you will not be going home again this side of half-term. Now, please get out of my sight.’