It was Charlie’s check-up on Monday. Mum made him a massive breakfast, as if every last calorie mattered, but he pushed his plate away, shaking his head. He hates going to the clinic, especially when they do loads of tests. Dad said he’d take him out for a quick kick-about in the garden if he promised to eat something when he came back in: a bite of toast for every goal.
“You’ve hardly touched your breakfast either, Mads,” said Mum, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Is your tummy still hurting?”
I nodded and then shook my head. “I don’t feel sick or anything, just a bit churned up.”
“That’s exactly how I feel about Charlie’s check-up,” she said, as if my churned-up tummy didn’t really count, as if I didn’t count. She shook her head, sighing. “It’s always the same, every time, even though we’ve been going to the clinic for years. I know I won’t properly relax until it’s over.”
Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if Charlie hadn’t been premature, if he’d been born three months later, like a normal baby, if things might be different between me and Mum. I had an overwhelming urge suddenly to shout in her face or shake her really hard, to remind her that she had two children and they both needed her.
“Did you know Gemma’s mum was pregnant?” I said. I don’t know why – I just blurted it out. “Gemma told me yesterday when I was at her house. Her mum had a miscarriage just after her first scan.”
“No, I had no idea,” said Mum, shaking her head. “Christina never said. The poor thing. Was Gemma very upset?”
“Very. It happened around the same time as Nan died.”
Mum picked up her coffee and blew on it. “I thought I was having a miscarriage with Charlie,” she said quietly. I tensed up. Charlie again, it was so frustrating. “I knew it was too early,” she went on, “much too early. I just remember being terrified I was going to lose him…”
She trailed off, staring past my shoulder as if she was remembering the day it happened. “I felt so guilty, Mads. As if it was my fault the pregnancy had gone so wrong…as if I’d done something to cause it…eaten the wrong thing, worked too hard…”
“I told Vivian about it,” I said. “At nurture group.”
Mum’s eyes flickered back to my face. “What do you mean? What did you tell her?”
“Just about Charlie being born too early, how much you worry about him…”
“Oh…” Mum looked surprised, as if it had never occurred to her that her worries might affect me so much. “And what did she say?”
I opened my mouth to answer, to tell Mum how Vivian said it must’ve been a very anxious time for me as well, that I must’ve wondered what happened to the mum I’d had before Charlie was born – but just then Charlie came stumbling back in from the garden.
“Dad says my shots have got much stronger!” he said, as Dad came in behind him. “I don’t see why I have to even go to the clinic now. You could just ring them up and tell them how much better I am…”
Mum sighed, looking past him at Dad. “Of course you have to go,” she said. “It’s not just about your legs, Charlie, you know that. Come on, sit down and have something to eat.” She jumped up to put some more bread in the toaster, totally focused on Charlie again. “I’m pleased about your shots, though,” she added, turning back to give him a quick hug. “Wait until Mr Maddox sees…he might even choose you for the team!”
Kieran was standing outside the Blue Room as I came up the corridor to nurture group, his hand hovering over the doorknob. I hung back for a moment, embarrassed. It was the first time I’d seen him since he told me and Vivian about his mum, but he looked just as angry as usual, his shoulders hunched up around his ears.
He swung round suddenly, as if he’d decided to leave, but then he saw me and froze. I wasn’t sure what to do. For some weird reason I really wanted him to stay.
“Come on then,” I muttered, sort of nodding at the door. He shook his head, still frozen to the spot. “Come on, Kieran,” I tried again. “Vivian will be waiting for us.”
“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t do it any more.”
“Yes you can,” I said a bit more firmly. “You have to.”
I reached past him and opened the door, hoping he’d follow me in. I don’t even know why it mattered so much to me, but it did.
Sally-Ann was already in there talking away to Vivian. I grabbed my pad and sat across from her in my usual seat. Kieran waited for another moment or two and then shuffled in, sitting as near to the door as he could get, as if he wasn’t planning to stay for very long.
“We’ve got a French test this morning,” Sally-Ann was saying. “But I don’t actually think I should have to take it because I was away last week, and anyway I’m rubbish at French.”
I doodled RUBBISH at the top of the page and began to list all the things I was rubbish at: coping with change, confronting Dad, talking to Mum, coming to school without my ribbon…
“Perhaps you’re worried that if you take the French test, you’ll be just like everyone else, and the French teacher will forget how poorly you’ve been,” said Vivian.
Sally-Ann frowned. “What do you mean? Do you think I’m using my illness to get out of it?”
I glanced up at Kieran. He was staring at me again, that same intense look. I wanted to take my ribbon out of my bag but I was too embarrassed.
“No, I don’t think that,” said Vivian. “It’s just that all three of you are dealing with some serious issues that set you apart – and while I’m sure you wish you could be the same as everyone else, sometimes there can be a comfort in holding on to what makes us different.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Sally-Ann.
“Nor do I,” I said, wondering what possible comfort there was in being anxious all the time. Needing my purple ribbon just to get through the day.
Vivian thought for a moment. “Well, let’s say your tummy was all better, Sally-Ann, no more nasty pains or hospital appointments, you might be scared that we wouldn’t worry about you any more.” She turned to face me. “And, Maddie, you might be scared that if we thought you were over your nan – if you began to relax, even for a moment, went back to being the happy, chatty Maddie you used to be – you might get another shock. Things might change again and you wouldn’t be able to cope.”
But things are already changing, I thought. And everyone knows I can’t cope.
“What about me then?” said Kieran, sneering. “What am I scared of?”
“I think you’re frightened,” said Vivian, in the gentlest voice I’d heard her use, “that if you allowed yourself to trust us, to let us in, even a tiny bit, you might get hurt all over again.”
Kieran scraped back his chair, standing up. “The only thing I’m frightened of,” he said, “is staying here listening to this crap.”
He took a step towards the door, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
“It’s easy to walk away when things get tough,” said Vivian, “when I say things you don’t like. It’s so much harder to stay.”
Kieran took another step towards the door and then hesitated. I held my breath. Stay, I thought. Please stay.
“Walking out is always an option, Kieran,” Vivian went on. “No one is forcing you to stay. But if you keep on doing that, if you keep on shutting us out, nothing will change.”
He thrust his hands even deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. And then slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was doing it, he turned round and slunk back to his chair. He stayed for the rest of the session – he didn’t say anything but it felt massive, like he was admitting for the first time that he needed Vivian’s help.
I didn’t say much either; Sally-Ann did most of the talking. She was telling Vivian about her mum’s new boyfriend. She said she hated it when her mum started seeing someone new, that it was so obvious they didn’t want her around.
“I expect you’ve been used to having your mum all to yourself,” said Vivian.
“Only when she’s single,” said Sally-Ann. “As soon as she meets someone new, it’s bye-bye, Sally-Ann…” She broke off, holding her side as if she was in pain. “I’ve got such a bad tummy-ache,” she said. “I’m not making it up, I swear. It’s right here…”
“I wonder if what you’re really saying is that it hurts to share your mum with her new boyfriend?”
Sally-Ann squeezed her eyes tight. “Yes it does,” she whispered. “It really hurts.”
“I have that exact feeling,” I said suddenly. “It’s because I don’t want to share my dad.”
I put my hands up to my cheeks; they were red-hot. I had no idea I was going to say that, it just came out. I couldn’t help it. The thought of sharing Dad with someone other than Mum and Charlie was unbearable.
Sally-Ann opened her eyes. I thought she was going to say that her pain was worse than mine or something, but she didn’t, she just gave me a tiny smile. I glanced over at Kieran but he was busy balancing his stones, concentrating hard as he placed one on top of the other. As soon as he’d placed the last one, taking ages to make sure it was in exactly the right position, he flicked the tower with his finger, scattering the stones across the table.
When he got up to leave at the end of the session, Vivian said, “Thank you for staying, Kieran, it was extremely brave.”
“Whatever!” he said without even looking at her. But he didn’t sound angry.
Vivian was right; it was brave of him to stay, the bravest thing ever, trusting Vivian enough to sit back down. I couldn’t help feeling like I was the coward. I was the one who was too scared to face up to what was happening at home, to cope with everything changing again. I suddenly got this image of my granddad taking his umbrella out with him every day, just in case it rained.
Gemma was waiting for me right outside. “You didn’t miss much at registration,” she said. “Mrs Palmer went on about the boys’ toilets for a change, and said she needs volunteers for the summer fair. We could run a stall together if you like…”
I was only half-listening. I was still thinking about Vivian and what she said, wondering if I could be as brave as Kieran – if I could find the courage to go home after school and tell Dad I’d seen him in the cafe, however difficult it was. I didn’t want to be Maddie Mouse any more. I didn’t want to be like my granddad.
“How was the session?” said Gemma as we walked towards our lockers. “Did you tell Vivian what’s been going on?”
I shook my head. “It’s not really like that, but she did say something about me being scared and…” I stopped mid-sentence. The bird in my chest began to flap about like crazy. There was a girl standing by my locker. Long brown hair swept up in a ponytail. It was her. The girl I’d seen on Saturday. The girl from the cafe.