I look at her in horror. This can’t all be happening at the same time. Surely there’s a limit to the amount of bad stuff that can happen to a family in one day?
‘We have to help find Grandpa,’ I whisper.
‘But I can’t just let Alex run off!’ cries Mum. She looks at the clock and makes a weird moaning sound. ‘Look at the time! We’ve got no idea what ferry she’s leaving on. There’s no certainty that we’re even going to find them and, if we do, I can hardly drag Alex back here like she’s three years old, can I?’
I had been wondering about that. Alex is the same size as Mum and if she was determined to go with Charlie there’s no way that Mum could persuade her to stay.
‘And I can’t abandon Granny and Grandpa,’ Mum continues, looking over at me with exhausted eyes. ‘They need me here. There’s no knowing where Grandpa might be – he could have gone miles by now. There’s just nobody else to help.’
She starts crying properly now and I don’t know what to do.
‘There’s me!’ I tell her. ‘I’ll help, Mum.’
That just makes her cry even harder and I sit there, rubbing her shoulders, with tears running silently down my face. When I woke up this morning, I had absolutely no idea that a day could be so terrible.
Eventually Mum stops crying and sits up straighter.
‘I’m sorry, Izzy.’ She brushes the hair back off her face and smiles at me, although it isn’t a very happy smile. ‘What would I do without you, hey? You’re a fantastic, thoughtful, caring daughter.’
Well, you need one of your daughters to be, I think to myself, and the voice inside my head sounds mean and spiteful and not like me at all.
‘I’m going to send Alex a text,’ Mum says, picking up her phone. ‘Perhaps if she knows what’s going on she might change her mind and come home.’
I think Mum has completely lost the plot if she thinks Alex is going to just turn round and come back to us. That wouldn’t be very dramatic at all and Alex is all about the big entrance and exit; slinking back quietly after a few hours isn’t her style. I sit silently while Mum sends her text, wondering where Alex is now and hoping that Grandpa is somewhere safe. It’s starting to get dark and I hate the thought of him out there, all alone. I think about the aggro boys, prowling the streets and looking for trouble, and my skin starts to feel horrible, all itchy and tight. We need to stop worrying about Alex – she chose to leave when she didn’t have to – and start focusing on Grandpa who can’t help getting confused sometimes. It’s not his fault.
I’m just starting to wonder how long we’re going to sit here, helping nobody, when Mum’s phone rings. Her ringtone is the ‘Crazy Frog’ tune – Alex downloaded it for a laugh a few months ago and Mum has never got round to changing it. It sounds really wrong now, totally inappropriate. Mum snatches up the phone.
‘Alex!’ she cries. ‘Where are you?’
I can’t hear what Alex says in reply, but Mum listens for a second and then starts talking non-stop into the phone.
‘Don’t worry about that now, we can sort it all out. Alex? Alex – you need to listen to me, sweetheart. You need to get off the train. Running away is NOT the answer. Uh-huh. Yes. Yes, I understand you were scared. Right, yes, I realize that.’
Mum’s voice sounds worried and I can tell that she’s being really careful about what she says. I know she wants to persuade Alex to come home, but I’m not sure she needs to talk to Alex like she’s about to jump off a cliff. Alex will do what she wants to do, whatever Mum says to her. She always does.
Mum is still talking. ‘Yes, that’s right. Grandpa. I know, I know – it’s all happening at once. It’s OK, Alex, don’t cry. Just tell me the name of the last station you stopped at.’
She’s quiet for a moment and I imagine Alex sitting on the train, watching the fields and the houses whizz past as she moves further and further away from us.
‘OK, I understand. No, it’s all right – just get off the train at the next station and ring me. I’ll come and collect you.’
She’s quiet again and I can just make out the tinny sound of Alex’s voice coming through the phone, although I can’t hear the words.
‘Of course you do,’ Mum is telling Alex. ‘OK, OK, we’ll head over to Granny now and you ring me when you’re off the train. And Alex, I love you. Alex? Alex?’
Mum turns to me, looking scared. ‘I think she lost signal. Her phone just cut out.’
‘Is she coming home?’ I ask.
‘Yes!’ Mum breathes out, a great big whoosh that sounds like a steam train. ‘They’re getting off at the next station, although she’s got no idea where they are. They must be somewhere near London by now though. Thank goodness something has gone right today.’
Her phone makes a pinging sound and she looks down.
‘She’s sent me a text. Look.’ Mum shows me the phone and I read Alex’s text.
Next stop is in 30 mins. Charlie’s mum will collect us. Don’t worry. Find Grandpa. See u soon. LYF, Alex xxx
Mum starts the car.
‘Let’s go and find Grandpa. Hopefully Alex will be back by the time we get home.’
The next three hours are horrible. We get to Granny’s house and she’s really upset. The police have arrived. They tell Granny that they normally wouldn’t go looking for someone when they’ve been gone such a short time, but she tells them all about Grandpa and the way he gets so confused, and they say that they’ll send out a radio message telling other police officers to look out for him. Then they say they’ll have a drive around and they ask Granny what he was wearing, and would he have gone down to the river?
That just makes Granny cry even harder. When the police have gone, Mum tells me to stay with Granny and she’ll go looking for Grandpa. I sit with Granny for ages and listen to her saying that it’s all her fault and that she should never have left him alone for so long, but she thought he was happy in the garden. I try to tell her that she couldn’t have known he’d wander off, but it’s like she can’t hear me, so in the end I give up and make her a cup of tea instead.
By the time Mum walks back in the front door with Grandpa, we’re all exhausted. She found him outside the garden centre, waiting for it to open. When she asked him what he was doing, he told her that it was time to sort out his summer bedding and that he needed to buy some plants. Apparently, this couldn’t wait until the morning.
Mum phones the police to tell them that Grandpa’s home and then leaves him to Granny, with promises to return tomorrow. Then we race to the car and drive back to our house. Mum hasn’t heard anything else from Alex, even though she sent her a text to let her know that Grandpa was safe, and, as we approach our house, I can feel the atmosphere in the car get heavier and heavier.
‘Surely she must be home by now,’ mutters Mum as she pulls into our road. As we go round the corner, I lean forward to get a glimpse of our house; I can see straight away that it’s in darkness. There’s nobody inside.
We pull into the driveway and, right on cue, Mum’s phone beeps.
‘Quick, Izzy, get my phone out of my bag!’ she tells me, pulling on the handbrake and turning off the engine. I pass it to her and watch. It’s easy enough to tell what the text says by the way her face sags when she reads it, but I’m still shocked when Mum silently passes me the phone.
We r not coming. On ferry. Didn’t want to make u choose b/tween me & Grandpa. So glad u found him. Sorry. Will call u l8ter. LYF, Alex xxx
‘She lied to me,’ whispers Mum. ‘She never had any intention of coming home. She just wanted to stop me coming to get her.’
I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything. It feels safer that way. Mum seems to have changed from sad to scared to really, really angry and I think it’s probably a good idea if I try to keep a low profile right now.
We get out of the car and Mum lets us into the dark house. She makes us both some hot chocolate and we sit together at the table, although I notice that she doesn’t drink any of her
s. Our house doesn’t feel like home without Alex. I can’t help wondering if she has any idea what she’s done to us. If she cares about us at all.
When I’ve finished my drink, Mum sends me off to bed, telling me that she needs to make a few phone calls. I go upstairs and peer through the door at Alex’s room. It looks completely different. There are no clothes strewn across the floor and the bed is neatly made. The window is open and a summer breeze is floating through the room on the night air, blowing away any sign that Alex was ever here.
Completely miserable, I clean my teeth and head to my room. I’m too tired to put my clothes away properly so I just throw them in a pile on the floor – I can deal with them tomorrow. I pull on my pyjamas and get ready to flop into bed, beyond glad that today is finally finished.
But it’s not over quite yet. There, sitting on my pillow, is Mr Cuddles. He stares at me mournfully with his one eye, guarding a note that is propped in front of him.
Look after him for me. I don’t think I need him any more.
Love you forever,
Alex xxx
I pick up Mr Cuddles and sniff his head. He smells of patchouli incense sticks and vanilla candles and Alex. I snuggle down under the covers and try not to think about Alex’s face as the train pulled away. I try to believe that she’s doing the right thing. And I’m glad to have Mr Cuddles with me in bed; it feels like she left a little bit of herself here with me, that she hasn’t abandoned me completely.
Once in a Blue Moon
I don’t think I ever knew just how much of the noise in our house was made by Alex. With only Mum and me here, it’s really quiet. Mum has been getting home as early as she can on her workdays and we both sit together in the kitchen, me doing my homework and her planning her lessons. The house has become beige – calm and simple.
When I woke up the day after Alex left, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t know if Mum was going to be angry or sad or disappointed or confused. It turns out that she was all of those things multiplied by about one thousand. She told me over breakfast that she’d managed to get hold of Charlie’s parents on the phone and that they were just as upset as she was. They said they’d contacted Charlie’s uncle as soon as they read the letter that Charlie had left them and he was expecting them. They told Mum that he’d look after them until everything got sorted.
Mum also told me that she’d tried to ring Alex last night, about fifty billion times on her mobile, but Alex wasn’t answering. I said that maybe her phone didn’t work abroad, but Mum just pulled a weird face and didn’t say anything.
When I got back from school that day, Granny and Grandpa were here. Granny gave me a big hug and told me not to worry, that it’d all come out in the wash. I think that means that it’ll all be OK in the end but I don’t really see how that can happen, to be honest. She and Mum had a huge conversation about whether Mum should travel to Switzerland to get Alex. Mum got all upset again and said that she couldn’t have the time off work and, anyway, who would help look after Grandpa? They both looked at Grandpa when she said that, but he was busy unpacking and then repacking Granny’s handbag over and over again and didn’t notice.
Granny told Mum that they’d be fine and she mustn’t worry about them, but even I could see the relief in her face when Mum told her not to be so daft and that she wouldn’t leave them. That she’d speak to Alex and decide what to do from there.
Alex phoned Mum when they arrived in Switzerland to let her know that they’d got there safely. I don’t know what they said to each other in their conversation, but Mum was very quiet when she got off the phone and later that night she told me that we definitely wouldn’t be going after Alex – that she’d agreed to give Alex some time to decide what she wants to do. She said all this like she wasn’t at all sure that she’d made the right decision.
Mealtimes and weekends are the worst. We just don’t seem to be able to think of anything to talk about that isn’t Alex. Mum gets really upset, but that doesn’t stop her wanting to talk about what has happened over and over again. Most of the time I don’t even have to say anything back: I just chew my food and listen while she asks what she did wrong. At the beginning I tried to tell her that it wasn’t her fault – that Alex did this, not Mum – but she didn’t seem able to hear me. She just keeps going on about history repeating itself and did she put too much pressure on Alex and it was only that she wanted the best for her and on and on and on.
On Day Five I got home from school and there was a letter on the doormat. It was addressed to Mum, but I knew straight away that it was from Alex – the violet ink was a complete giveaway. I put it on the kitchen table and Mum read it when she got home. She cried a bit while she read it and then she tucked it down the side of the mug that she uses to keep all her pens and pencils in. Alex gave her the mug a few years ago – not for a birthday or anything, but just because. I think they might have had an argument or something, but when Alex came home with the mug it made Mum laugh and pull a face and give Alex a huge hug. She said that she wasn’t sure the mug should strictly be given to her because she’s always making mistakes and messing up being our mum, but Alex said that was rubbish and she’d chosen a ‘Best Mum in the World’ mug because Mum really is.
Anyway, when Mum went off to do her marking, I had a look at the letter. I’ve kind of given up worrying about whether I’m doing the right thing or not these days. I think it’s much more important to know what’s going on, which everybody is incredibly slow to tell me. So it’s really not my fault if I have to find out for myself. I think it shows that I have initiative.
I have no idea why Mum cried when she read the letter though. I couldn’t find anything sad in it at all.
Dear Mum,
I’m writing to you from sunny Switzerland! We got here eventually, although at times I thought we never would. The journey took forever – I had absolutely no idea how far away this place is. Part of me really wanted to get off the train when I saw you and Izzy standing on the platform. I still don’t understand how you got there?! I hope you understand why I didn’t. I needed to do this and I didn’t want you to come after me when you could be looking for Grandpa.
This place is so totally beautiful – I wish you were here to see it. The mountains are real, live Alps with snow on the tops – they look like something from a film. It’s really hot and sunny too. At breakfast time today it was warm enough to sit outside and we saw two lizards sunbathing on a rock. And get this – the cows actually DO wear bells around their necks!!
The hotel is really pretty with shutters at the windows. I’m sending you a postcard with this letter so that you can see what I’m talking about.
Charlie’s Uncle Rob is brilliant. He’s totally fine about me and Charlie and the baby, which is a bit of a relief because I wasn’t sure how much Charlie had told him before we arrived. The first thing he did when we got here was ring Charlie’s parents so that they wouldn’t be worried. I don’t know what he said, but when he got off the phone he told Charlie that it was OK for now. His wife, Monique, is lovely too. It was her who suggested I ring you to let you know we’d got here safely, which was nice of her.
Charlie’s job is to keep the hotel garden from looking too shabby and to help out in the kitchens. I’m going to do some work in the laundry and other bits and pieces. Yesterday I helped clean the rooms and make the beds, which was surprisingly good fun. I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that!
There are lots of complications with getting work permits apparently so for now Uncle Rob is just going to pay us in cash. We’ve got a tiny little chalet all of our own to live in – it’s just like a doll’s house, but I’ll tell you more about that next time I write. Anyway, we’ve got somewhere to stay and Charlie brings our food back from the kitchens so it’s not like we actually need a lot of money.
It feels like a free holiday really! Everyone is so kind and won’t let me do much work because of the baby, so I’ve spent most of this week just sitting in the su
nshine and wondering what you and Izzy are doing!
Well, I’d better go now – it’s nearly time for supper. Please try not to worry about me. Everything is working out brilliantly and, although I’m missing you both a lot, I am happy.
Anyway, write back if you want to and tell me how you are. I can get emails here. I miss you.
Love you forever,
Alex xxxx
PS Tell Izzy I had coffee and croissants for breakfast. Delicious!
I asked Mum to show me on the map where exactly Alex and Charlie have gone, and at lunchtimes I go into the library and use the computer to Google images of where they are. I’ve seen pictures of mountains with snow and cows with bells around their necks, and Alex is right, it does all look really beautiful and amazing. It just doesn’t look very ‘Alex’, that’s all. I try and try, but I cannot imagine her there.
Mum had a chat with me a few days after Alex had gone. She said that what Alex had done wasn’t fair: it wasn’t fair on Mum or the baby, but it particularly wasn’t fair on me. She said Alex had put me in an impossible situation and that she was proud of the way I dealt with it. I don’t think she really understands how much I knew though, or how long I knew it. When I lie awake in bed at night, I ask myself that question a lot: would this all have been different if I’d just told Mum as soon as I knew? If I’d spoken out as soon as I read the text from Charlie about not wanting a baby? And I know the answer, but I wish I could un-know it because it’s a hundred per cent YES. If I’d told Mum then she would have spoken to Alex and Alex would never have run away. I’m not stupid enough to think this is all my fault – it wasn’t me that got pregnant after all – but I do know, deep down, that I’m not as sensible and responsible as Mum thinks I am.
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