longer to help her get dressed in the mornings and to get ready for bed in the evenings. Dad says he’s going to try to rearrange his
schedule so he can come home from work earlier and be around to help more, but it’s not enough. I can’t do everything myself in the meantime, especially when I’m trying to keep
the amount I do from Xavier. Now, when Dad’s not at home, I get up almost an hour earlier than Xavier and, at night, I pretend that I’m going to bed, then creep into Mum’s room to
help her. It’s crazy, but I’m sneaking around behind Mum and Dad’s backs to spend private time with Xavier, and sneaking around behind his back to help Mum get washed and dressed.
No wonder I feel stressed out most of the time.
Today, I’ve come home from school, hoping to spend some time with Xavier, as well as everything else I need to do, and now Mum is telling me we hardly have any food in the house, so I need
to go to Sainsbury’s for her too. She was supposed to do an internet shop, but I have a suspicion that her hands have been playing up this week, making it hard to type on the keyboard. Or
maybe she’s just forgotten. Her memory has been a bit dodgy lately too, which is really scary.
‘Can’t we make do with whatever’s in the cupboard tonight?’ I ask.
She’s not in the mood for a discussion. ‘No. We need to eat properly and there’s nothing fresh. I’d like you to get some chicken and vegetables, and we need milk and eggs
too.’ She points to her handbag. ‘There’s some cash in my purse. Please could you take it and go to Sainsbury’s now.’
I turn away and make a face. ‘OK. Come on, then, Xavier,’ I say, taking the money from her bag and shoving the folded notes into my purse. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t
understood my conversation with Mum. We were going too fast for him. ‘We need to go shopping, get some stuff in for dinner,’ I explain. ‘If you don’t mind coming?’
‘Ah, OK,’ he says, getting up from the sofa. I hand him the coat he’s just taken off. I don’t say goodbye to Mum.
Xavier holds my hand as we walk along the street. ‘You appear sad,’ he says. ‘Eez it your muzzer? You worry about her broken legs?’
‘Something like that.’ I smile at him. He’s so sweet. For a moment I have second thoughts about not telling him the truth, then change my mind instantly. Even if I wanted to
come clean about the fact that Mum hasn’t had an accident but has a disease that’s getting worse, I still couldn’t do it. First, he’d be angry that I’d lied. Then
he’d start asking questions and then I’d have to explain everything. How can you tell your new boyfriend that sometimes your mum doesn’t make it to the loo in time? Both ends.
That she has to wear pads, like a nappy? It’s really embarrassing and gross and totally unromantic and, anyway, she’d hate it too if she thought I’d told anyone that.
So I don’t tell him. Instead, I stop walking, turn my body around to face him, and kiss him hard on the mouth. I’ve discovered that kissing can be a great distraction. He kisses me
back, just like I hope he will and soon I realise that I don’t feel angry or upset about Mum any more.
When I open my eyes, I notice that we’re standing by the steps that lead down to Regent’s Canal. It’s growing dark now, and I’m not supposed to walk along the canal at
night (or even during the day, without an adult), but I want a few minutes’ privacy with Xavier, and I figure I’ll be safe if he’s there. It feels naughty and exciting and a bit
dangerous, which is exactly what I need right now. ‘Come on,’ I say, taking his hand. ‘Let’s go down here.’
He looks puzzled. ‘Zee supermarket?’
‘We’ll go there in a bit. But you’ve never seen the canal, have you? Only the bit at Camden Lock. It runs for miles, all the way from Little Venice into the Thames, and you can
walk along all the way, past the back of the zoo, through the park,
schedule so he can come home from work earlier and be around to help more, but it’s not enough. I can’t do everything myself in the meantime, especially when I’m trying to keep
the amount I do from Xavier. Now, when Dad’s not at home, I get up almost an hour earlier than Xavier and, at night, I pretend that I’m going to bed, then creep into Mum’s room to
help her. It’s crazy, but I’m sneaking around behind Mum and Dad’s backs to spend private time with Xavier, and sneaking around behind his back to help Mum get washed and dressed.
No wonder I feel stressed out most of the time.
Today, I’ve come home from school, hoping to spend some time with Xavier, as well as everything else I need to do, and now Mum is telling me we hardly have any food in the house, so I need
to go to Sainsbury’s for her too. She was supposed to do an internet shop, but I have a suspicion that her hands have been playing up this week, making it hard to type on the keyboard. Or
maybe she’s just forgotten. Her memory has been a bit dodgy lately too, which is really scary.
‘Can’t we make do with whatever’s in the cupboard tonight?’ I ask.
She’s not in the mood for a discussion. ‘No. We need to eat properly and there’s nothing fresh. I’d like you to get some chicken and vegetables, and we need milk and eggs
too.’ She points to her handbag. ‘There’s some cash in my purse. Please could you take it and go to Sainsbury’s now.’
I turn away and make a face. ‘OK. Come on, then, Xavier,’ I say, taking the money from her bag and shoving the folded notes into my purse. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t
understood my conversation with Mum. We were going too fast for him. ‘We need to go shopping, get some stuff in for dinner,’ I explain. ‘If you don’t mind coming?’
‘Ah, OK,’ he says, getting up from the sofa. I hand him the coat he’s just taken off. I don’t say goodbye to Mum.
Xavier holds my hand as we walk along the street. ‘You appear sad,’ he says. ‘Eez it your muzzer? You worry about her broken legs?’
‘Something like that.’ I smile at him. He’s so sweet. For a moment I have second thoughts about not telling him the truth, then change my mind instantly. Even if I wanted to
come clean about the fact that Mum hasn’t had an accident but has a disease that’s getting worse, I still couldn’t do it. First, he’d be angry that I’d lied. Then
he’d start asking questions and then I’d have to explain everything. How can you tell your new boyfriend that sometimes your mum doesn’t make it to the loo in time? Both ends.
That she has to wear pads, like a nappy? It’s really embarrassing and gross and totally unromantic and, anyway, she’d hate it too if she thought I’d told anyone that.
So I don’t tell him. Instead, I stop walking, turn my body around to face him, and kiss him hard on the mouth. I’ve discovered that kissing can be a great distraction. He kisses me
back, just like I hope he will and soon I realise that I don’t feel angry or upset about Mum any more.
When I open my eyes, I notice that we’re standing by the steps that lead down to Regent’s Canal. It’s growing dark now, and I’m not supposed to walk along the canal at
night (or even during the day, without an adult), but I want a few minutes’ privacy with Xavier, and I figure I’ll be safe if he’s there. It feels naughty and exciting and a bit
dangerous, which is exactly what I need right now. ‘Come on,’ I say, taking his hand. ‘Let’s go down here.’
He looks puzzled. ‘Zee supermarket?’
‘We’ll go there in a bit. But you’ve never seen the canal, have you? Only the bit at Camden Lock. It runs for miles, all the way from Little Venice into the Thames, and you can
walk along all the way, past the back of the zoo, through the park,
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