top of things – it may take a little time, but we’ll get there.’
I turned back to look at Dr Caldwell as we left the surgery with the new prescription, but her back was turned, her fingers busy on the keyboard typing up the notes. I wondered what she was writing, wished I could see, put it right.
Everything slipped over half-term. We didn’t really get up; if we did, then we didn’t get dressed. I was glad there was no school so I didn’t have to face Lizzy, but I missed Leo and Jen. Peter stared at the TV in the gloomy living room, his hand diving in and out of the sweet bag, eyes fixed, red-rimmed. Mum sat there too. The mould smell was back. When I pulled the curtains open, she told me to shut them, saying she had a bad head.
Mum bought a new nail-varnish set. It arrived in the post on Wednesday. She sat in front of me, her fingers in bowls of water, softening her cuticles. She liked playing beauty parlour and it had been a while.
I filed her nails, and Peter’s cartoons squealed in the background. Mum closed her eyes; a small smile lifted her face when I rubbed in the hand cream. I stared over hershoulder and out of the window, but couldn’t see much from here. Just sky. And clouds that looked like nothing today.
‘Audrey –’ Mum’s voice snapped me back; she shook a wrist – ‘come on.’
I paid more attention. Dried off her skin with paper towels. Started with the base coat. Mum had all the paraphernalia. She’d want to do the pedicure next, I thought, and my hands felt tired.
I thought about Leo, wondered what he was doing, if we should go over to the farm.
Peter jumped up, wired on sugar.
‘I’m bored. I want to go somewhere.’
‘Off you go, then,’ Mum said. ‘Bugger off.’ She laughed, winked at me.
‘Where? Can we go somewhere, Mum?’ Peter asked, climbing on to the arm of the sofa before jumping off, then clambering up to do it all over again.
‘No. Get down. I’m busy.’ She nodded at her hands. I was just beginning to apply the first coat of the bold red she’d chosen.
‘I’m sick of watching TV.’ Peter aimed a kick at the wall.
‘Go outside, play with your football,’ she told him.
‘You said you’d get me a bike.’ Peter was really fed up. Like he needed to punch something.
‘Yes, well. There’s no money for a bike right now. Wait for your birthday, like I said, and go and do something else for now.’
The door slammed behind him.
‘How are you getting on?’ Mum said.
‘Nearly done.’
She sat up, spread out her fingers. Nodded.
‘Nice job, that, love. You could go into this sort of thing, Aud – there’s a lot of money in it.’
‘I think I want to do something outdoors,’ I told her, staring out again. ‘Like, archaeology or something.’ She pulled a face. ‘Maybe explore the world. Go to loads of hot places, find really interesting stuff. Or maybe study different people, cultures – anthropology that’s called.’
‘You what?’
‘It’d be fun.’
‘Forget it. I can’t think of anything worse. You’d be filthy all the time. Forever off and on planes, picking up God knows what. And think of all those awful men, foreigners, waiting to trap girls like you. I’ve read about them.’ She gestured at an old newspaper on the floor.
‘I don’t think it’s that bad.’
‘It is. And with your problems, well, it’s too risky. You stay at home, love, with me. I don’t want you disappearing off halfway round the world. What’d I do without you?’
‘You’d be OK.’ I started packing away, trying not to hear her.
‘You should be glad I care.’ She looked hard at me. ‘My mother didn’t give a toss what I did, the old bag.’
I tried to remember Grandma, but my memory was like a page ripped from a paperback book, folded and then torn in random places, all the important words missing. Open the paper and the holes made no shape at all. Words started and stopped. Jagged rips gaped. I’d tried to findthe missing letters,
I turned back to look at Dr Caldwell as we left the surgery with the new prescription, but her back was turned, her fingers busy on the keyboard typing up the notes. I wondered what she was writing, wished I could see, put it right.
Everything slipped over half-term. We didn’t really get up; if we did, then we didn’t get dressed. I was glad there was no school so I didn’t have to face Lizzy, but I missed Leo and Jen. Peter stared at the TV in the gloomy living room, his hand diving in and out of the sweet bag, eyes fixed, red-rimmed. Mum sat there too. The mould smell was back. When I pulled the curtains open, she told me to shut them, saying she had a bad head.
Mum bought a new nail-varnish set. It arrived in the post on Wednesday. She sat in front of me, her fingers in bowls of water, softening her cuticles. She liked playing beauty parlour and it had been a while.
I filed her nails, and Peter’s cartoons squealed in the background. Mum closed her eyes; a small smile lifted her face when I rubbed in the hand cream. I stared over hershoulder and out of the window, but couldn’t see much from here. Just sky. And clouds that looked like nothing today.
‘Audrey –’ Mum’s voice snapped me back; she shook a wrist – ‘come on.’
I paid more attention. Dried off her skin with paper towels. Started with the base coat. Mum had all the paraphernalia. She’d want to do the pedicure next, I thought, and my hands felt tired.
I thought about Leo, wondered what he was doing, if we should go over to the farm.
Peter jumped up, wired on sugar.
‘I’m bored. I want to go somewhere.’
‘Off you go, then,’ Mum said. ‘Bugger off.’ She laughed, winked at me.
‘Where? Can we go somewhere, Mum?’ Peter asked, climbing on to the arm of the sofa before jumping off, then clambering up to do it all over again.
‘No. Get down. I’m busy.’ She nodded at her hands. I was just beginning to apply the first coat of the bold red she’d chosen.
‘I’m sick of watching TV.’ Peter aimed a kick at the wall.
‘Go outside, play with your football,’ she told him.
‘You said you’d get me a bike.’ Peter was really fed up. Like he needed to punch something.
‘Yes, well. There’s no money for a bike right now. Wait for your birthday, like I said, and go and do something else for now.’
The door slammed behind him.
‘How are you getting on?’ Mum said.
‘Nearly done.’
She sat up, spread out her fingers. Nodded.
‘Nice job, that, love. You could go into this sort of thing, Aud – there’s a lot of money in it.’
‘I think I want to do something outdoors,’ I told her, staring out again. ‘Like, archaeology or something.’ She pulled a face. ‘Maybe explore the world. Go to loads of hot places, find really interesting stuff. Or maybe study different people, cultures – anthropology that’s called.’
‘You what?’
‘It’d be fun.’
‘Forget it. I can’t think of anything worse. You’d be filthy all the time. Forever off and on planes, picking up God knows what. And think of all those awful men, foreigners, waiting to trap girls like you. I’ve read about them.’ She gestured at an old newspaper on the floor.
‘I don’t think it’s that bad.’
‘It is. And with your problems, well, it’s too risky. You stay at home, love, with me. I don’t want you disappearing off halfway round the world. What’d I do without you?’
‘You’d be OK.’ I started packing away, trying not to hear her.
‘You should be glad I care.’ She looked hard at me. ‘My mother didn’t give a toss what I did, the old bag.’
I tried to remember Grandma, but my memory was like a page ripped from a paperback book, folded and then torn in random places, all the important words missing. Open the paper and the holes made no shape at all. Words started and stopped. Jagged rips gaped. I’d tried to findthe missing letters,
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