by Ali Gardner
Hardknocks, Hiccups and Headstands
Ali Gardner
Illustrated by Jessica Fairhurst
Copyright © 2016 Ali Gardner
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Contents
Chapter 1 - Hard Knocks and Hamsters
Chapter 2 - Casseroles and Childminders
Chapter 3 - Curtain Twitchers and Kitty
Chapter 4 - Headstands and Happiness
Chapter 5 - Goodbyes and Grandad
Chapter 6 - Moving and Miles
Chapter 7 - Neighbours and Nachos
Chapter 8 - Candidates and Confusion
Chapter 9 - Rules and Routines
Chapter 10 - Hatred and Hiccups
Chapter 11 - Bridesmaids and Breakages
Chapter 12 - Revenge and Rainbows
Chapter 13 - Bruises and Blunders
Chapter 14 - Wedding Dresses and Warnings
Chapter 15 - Discoveries and Distrust
Chapter 16 - Dresses and Deception
Chapter 17 - Pandemonium and Paramedics
Chapter18 - Chaos and Clues
Chapter 19 - Hospitals and Heart-Healthy Diets
Chapter 20 - Detectives and Discoveries
Chapter 21 - Homecomings and Healing
Chapter 22 - Love and Lanterns
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1 - Hard Knocks and Hamsters
“No, no, no…It hasn’t happened, it can’t be true,” Janey told herself as she crawled as far back as she could under the green, velvety sofa and grabbed onto one of the wooden legs. Unable to process the sounds and feelings whirring around in her head, she stared up at the insides of the sofa where the protective meshing had once been sliced open to retrieve the family pet hamster, Pepper, who had slid irreversibly down the edge of one of the cushions and got trapped inside the sofa.
That had been a day of hilarity. One minute, Pepper had been scurrying across the family sofa, stopping every so often to forage for any crumbs left behind from the rare occasion when Mum had let the girls have their dinner on their knees whilst watching TV. The next minute, the hamster had seemed to flatten his body, and slid effortlessly down the back of one of the cushions. Janey and her older sister Libby had squealed with a mixture of fear and delight as they called for Mum to come and help release little Pepper. The girls crawled under the sofa and, using their fingers to follow Pepper, who was scrambling in a deranged fashion from one end of the sofa to the other, they tried to encourage the hamster to move towards his original entrance so that Mum could pull him back out. After a hopeless hour of the three of them trying to coax Pepper out, Dad had arrived home and quickly realised that the only option was to slice open the sofa from underneath to release poor Pepper. Dad tipped the sofa onto its side, which sent Pepper toppling over again and again to the other end. He cut a small section of the meshing and, with a few final taps, Pepper emerged and ran straight for the door, which happened to be shut, resulting in him taking a few backward somersaults and leaving him stunned, motionless and lying on his back. With all four paws in the air, he looked like he had been hypnotised or was in fact dead! Libby ran to his rescue and scooped Pepper into her palm. She could feel the poor creature’s heartbeat pulsating through her hands. She slowly stroked him back to a state of calm and placed him lovingly into his cage. Dazed, Pepper had retreated to his bed, curled into a ball and instantly fallen asleep.
These funny memories had momentarily distracted Janey from the sharp pain of what she had just been told. She couldn’t remember the words that had been used by Dad, but all she knew was that her mummy was dead. She couldn’t make sense of what she had just heard, and made no particular connection with her mother’s enduring illness or the regular hospital visits which had become part of their daily routine over the last year. That evening felt like the longest and most painful day Janey could ever remember. Those usual feelings of her body heaving and gasping for breath as that first cry erupted from her body seemed to go on forever. Usually, the panic of this feeling as she tried to get that first cry out of her chest had always been broken by a cuddle and a few gentle words of reassurance, but today the gasps just kept on coming like waves in the sea. Just as she got her breath back from one wave, the next one was there to sweep her off her feet again. Eventually, exhausted from crying and feeling like her head had its very own heart, thumping pain with each beat, she fell asleep in Dad’s arms.
Janey woke the next morning, thrilled to find a lollipop on the top of her pillow. It was one of those lollies that whistled if you blew it. It was strawberry flavoured and, although surprised at this early morning treat, she quickly unwrapped it and stuck it into her mouth. She jumped out of bed and ran towards her parents’ room, tunefully whistling on her lollipop, when suddenly she felt like she had been hit by a truck. Janey’s small seven-year-old body froze and crumbled to the floor just outside her mum and dad’s…no, her dad’s room. The shock of yesterday’s news flooded back into her head as the pain rushed through every bone in her body. In the following days, it was only when Janey was asleep that she could truly escape the pain – but each morning, the sharp shock would hit her once again.
Eventually, the memory that Mum was no longer there did not keep her awake at night, and no longer hit her as her first waking thought. Instead, it just became a fact of life, and any expectation that it would change faded.
Always the more relaxed and easy-going of the two sisters, Janey loved to have fun and make others laugh. She knew that she could get away with a certain level of cheekiness as she usually made everyone smile and giggle, and this was the core of her personality. Until Mum had died, this happy-go-lucky attitude of Janey’s had been pretty much unceasing, much to the annoyance of her sister. Libby, the older sister by two years, was far more serious by nature, and always felt that she took the blame for everything. She believed that in situations where everyone just laughed at Janey, she would be shouted at, and it just didn’t seem fair to her.
Following Mum’s death, Libby’s determined character seemed to fade. Generally, she seemed quieter, sadder and even more serious. Janey was far less consistent. One minute, she would be laughing and joking without a care in the world, and then the next she would dissolve into a heap of tea
rs and despair as a small memory would jolt her back into the grief and reality that Mum was never coming back.
Three months later...
Three months later, life must have returned to some normality. Libby had started to assume responsibility for her younger sister in many aspects of their domestic life. She took it upon herself to help Janey get dressed, help Dad with breakfast and hold Janey’s hand all the way to school. Dad had decided that it would be safe for his daughters to walk to school alone, and had carefully shown Libby a route which zigzagged through the streets so that only one road outside the school had to be crossed, and that road had a lollipop lady. Oblivious to the demands placed on Libby, apart from the odd grumble about her sister becoming a real “bossy boots”, Janey quickly adjusted to these new routines – and as such, the day-to-day absence of their mum became less and less prominent in her mind. Although the girls had their differences in character and their outlooks on life, they were still a team – now more than ever before.
Unless you were told that Libby and Janey were sisters, you would never have guessed. Libby was slender with long blonde hair, which she gave little attention to unless she absolutely had to. Living by the sea meant that Libby’s hair was always tangled, and her fine wisps would blow across her oval-shaped face as the North East winds hit her the moment she stepped out of the door. Much to Dad’s annoyance, Libby would sweep her hair away from her face moaning at the pain of it whipping her cheeks, but refusing to tie it up. Libby’s striking blue eyes perfectly matched Dad’s, leaving no doubt of how she fitted into the family. Libby’s serious nature, however, meant that her eyes only occasionally lit up with joy. She somehow found it hard to allow herself to show her smile, and only those who knew her well could detect when she was actually happy. Dad and Janey knew the subtle changes to watch for in her lips, which would only slightly twitch and move upwards at the edges when she was happy. Libby never felt the need to please others or to share her emotions through her facial features. It was only when Libby was completely lost in herself or in an activity that she could relax into a visibly happy state. In these rare moments, Libby would uncontrollably smile and laugh, but would soon curl into a small ball and try to contain the unique blend of pain and pleasure that only raucous laughter can bring.
Janey, on the other hand, was a little plumper, with shorter brown hair and hazel-coloured eyes. Just like Libby’s eyes matched Dad’s, Janey shared her eyes with Mum. Identical in colour and warmth, Dad could not help but feel this missing link. Where there had once been two pairs of those eyes, there was now only one, leaving a physical gap that could never be filled.
Janey’s eyes alone were a giveaway for how she was feeling. Dad used to play a game with the girls where they would cover their mouths with their hands, and he would guess from their eyes whether or not they were smiling. No matter how many times she tried, Janey could never fool Dad. Libby, on the other hand, was impossible to work out.
Janey had a round face with lots of freckles just around her little turned up nose. Everyone told Janey she had the cutest nose, but she hated it, as Libby would tease her that it looked like the end of an umbrella or a wellington boot. Quite the opposite of Libby and Dad, Janey was very open with her feelings and state of mind. It wasn’t only Janey’s facial features that expressed how she was feeling, but her constantly flailing arms and legs that would swing and thrash about in tune with her moods. If she were happy, Janey would swirl her arms in a way that had a habit of knocking things over, usually glasses of drink from a table. If they were outside, she would break into high skips and sudden movements, often accidentally knocking into those passing by. Dad would spend a great deal of his time apologising to members of the public or shopkeepers when one of Janey’s giggling fits struck her in public.
In the first few months after Mum had died, there was no shortage of offers of help and support for Dad. Janey’s grandparents on her mother’s side, who lived nearby, took a more active role in caring for Janey and Libby. Although Grandma was in poor health and never really recovered from the death of her daughter, Grandad visited at least twice a week to babysit for the girls. Janey and Libby adored their grandad. He was short, round, bald and always happy. Being the proud owner of a sweet shop meant that Grandad never arrived empty-handed, and he made the best homemade chips in the world. Grandad would scoop the girls into his arms, swinging them around the room and onto his shoulders in one swift move. He had a special skill of pulling out wobbly teeth with a pair of pliers, which didn’t even hurt. The anticipation and excitement of Grandad arriving on a wobbly tooth day was beyond anything the girls could cope with, and they both furiously wobbled at the first sign of a tooth loosening from the gum.
Dad had returned to work three months after Mum’s death. He worked as a teacher at Milton High, twenty minutes from home, and tried to juggle the demands of work and home whilst putting aside his own grief for the loss of his wife, who he had dearly loved. Dad had first met Mum at University, when they were both training to be teachers. Dad always told the same story about seeing Mum for the first time whilst out with friends. They were in a big crowd, and because Mum was so small, Dad kept losing her behind people. Every time he did see her, he would be fixated on her beautiful big brown eyes and her warm smile. Just as he was beginning to believe that he had lost her in the crowd and was desperately scanning the room, someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind. Dad turned to face Mum, who asked, “Are you looking for someone?” Embarrassed, Dad couldn’t think what to say, but Mum just laughed and asked if he would like to buy her a drink.
The girls loved this story, as they could just imagine their Mum cheekily teasing Dad, and him nervously squirming and trying to think of something to say. Soon after leaving university, Mum and Dad had married and set up home together. Not long after, Libby and Janey were born, and the hectic journey of family life began. About three years after Janey’s birth, Mum had fallen ill, and for the next four years Mum and Dad had tried to maintain a level of normality and family happiness, shielding the girls from the truth that Mum would not live long enough to see them grow up.
Chapter 2 - Casseroles and Childminders
Neighbours and friends took it in turns to look after Libby and Janey after school, giving them tea before Dad returned home after another exhausting day at Milton High. Libby and Janey had their favourites, such as their Reception teacher, Mrs Fairly, who had stepped in and took the girls home with her each Monday after school. Libby and Janey were thrilled to spend time with her adorable litter of Labrador puppies, which had very conveniently been delivered by Mrs Fairly’s dog Maisy shortly after Mum had died. Their next-door neighbour, Carol, collected the girls from school once a week, and always had an ice-cold glass of homemade lemonade ready for them.
Its trademark was a couple of pink ice cubes in the shape of elephants swimming around in the juice. These small but familiar rituals were important to Libby and Janey in the early days. They gave them reassurance, and reminded them that some things do remain the same.
Equally, the girls dreaded other days, when they would be collected by Mrs Wight and her snooty daughter Lorna, who was one year older and wiser than Libby and liked to remind her of this frequently. Lorna would make it clear that it would be far too much to expect her to lower herself to play with Libby and Janey, and she would spend as little time as possible in the same room as the girls. Mrs Wight was one of those “do- gooder” types of people. She was the first to offer her help, but always made sure that all the other mums knew that she looked after poor Libby and Janey on a Wednesday. She would walk the girls home while making patronising comments to passing parents and signalling a sympathetic sigh behind the girls’ back, inviting some sort of admiration for her good deed. Mrs Wight would take it upon herself to rummage through the girls’ school bags and empty their rubbish, which had usually accumulated over the week. She would wash their P.E kits, and would insist on brushing Libby’
s unkempt long blonde hair into a neat tight ponytail that sat on top of her head and swished from side to side as she walked. Although Libby was without doubt the tidier of the two girls, always nicely dressed and giving consideration to clothes and colours that would match, she hated anything being done to her hair. Forgetting to brush it most mornings, Dad – when he noticed and had the time – would chase the girls around the kitchen table with his comb. Dad always carried his comb in his trouser pocket, ready to run it through his short, fine blond hair that had not changed in colour, style or texture since he was about 10 years old.
Dad’s friends had nicknamed him Snowy at school because it was so white and soft. The girls hated Dad’s comb, as he didn’t seem to grasp that straightening out the long knotted mass of a girl’s hair would require far more attention than his flimsy plastic comb. This was just another of the little things that reminded the girls of why mums were so important – and for Libby, the pain of another woman, Mrs Wight, trying to take her place was just too much to handle. Libby would rip the ponytail out of her hair as soon as Dad picked the girls up, and refuse to ever go again. On their final weekly visit to Mrs Wight’s house, she insisted that Janey took off her her school skirt right there in her front room so that she could sew a broken hem. Janey reluctantly did as she was told and hid behind the sofa whilst Mrs Wight fetched the sewing machine. Mrs Wight became cross and inpatient with Janey, and told her to stop being so silly and to come out from behind the sofa. Janey pulled her school shirt as far over her knickers as it would reach, placing a hand behind her to cover herself as she slowly moved to the side of the sofa. Janey was further humiliated by the arrival of Mr Wight, who burst into the front room to greet his wife following a day at work. Seemingly unaware of the fact that Janey was half-dressed, he continued to ask the girls about their day at school and about their dad’s job. In the same way that Janey and Libby needed familiarity and routine, they also needed space, and hated to be smothered with sympathy. Dad joked with the girls and, although grateful and dependent on the support from the neighbours, he called them the Casserole Brigade. He made up this name one day following the delivery of a lasagne, a shepherd’s pie, a beef casserole and an apple crumble all on the same evening from four different neighbours. The mums who made the food always presented them in pretty dishes, or with a fancy tea towel covering the hot dish. Dad explained that people were trying to help in their own way as he placed the third dish into the chest freezer.