Alice in Time (18 page)

‘I’ll just have a nice cup of tea before I ring the hospital,’ she says, putting the kettle on. ‘Would you like some squash?’

‘I’d rather have a cup of tea,’ I tell her.

‘OK, one tea coming up.’

I remember that the thing I liked most about Gran was that she always treated me like a grown up. Which is a huge
relief now, of course. Maybe I can really talk to her after all – even try and explain what’s happening. But then she hands me my tea, which is way too weak with too much sugar in it. It’s ‘baby tea’, I realise, because her own cup is nice and strong. She might pretend to treat me like an adult, but she obviously still sees me as a little kid.

We sit opposite each other at the kitchen table. I can’t stop staring at her. It is a bit like having tea with a ghost.

‘Why so serious?’ asks Gran.

‘Well,’ I say, nibbling on a fingernail, ‘basically, my life is about to go down the pan. I think that Mum is going to throw Dad out and that we’ll have to move to a horrid house and Mum won’t be able to cope especially since —’ I’m about to say ‘you’ve got cancer’ but manage to stop myself just in time.

‘Blimey!’ says Gran with a twinkle in her eye. ‘That’s a lot of weight to be carrying on such small shoulders.’ Then she sees my face and suddenly becomes serious. She reaches over the table and holds my hands.

‘Listen, Alice, I know this new baby is going to mean that life will change a bit for you and that you’ll have to share Mummy from now on, but don’t look at it as a bad thing. It will be lovely to have a little sister to look after —’

‘It’s a boy,’ I interrupt.

‘Or a little brother,’ she continues, ‘but I’m sure that everything will carry on just as normal.’

Of course, I hadn’t really expected Gran to take me seriously, and although it’s a relief to say these things out loud I’m still upset that she thinks it’s all nonsense. She must have seen my disappointment because she squeezes my hands and says, ‘If
there is one thing I’m certain of it’s that your mum is
not
going to throw your dad out, so you don’t need to worry on that score.’ She gets up and goes to the cupboard to find the biscuit tin. When she’s got her back to me I hear her mumbling, ‘More’s the pity. She’s a fool when it comes to that man.’

‘You don’t like him?’

She turns round looking guilty and says, ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like him, but I won’t pretend I was happy when your mum married him. He’s not what you would call good marriage material.’ Suddenly she seems to realise that she’s talking to a seven-year-old and laughs. ‘Anyway, I’m sure it will work out fine. It has so far.’

‘But what if it doesn’t? Could you talk to them?’

‘It’s not my place to interfere,’ says Gran briskly. ‘Now, if you’ve finished your tea, I’ll go and ring the hospital.’

‘No, wait!’ I grip her hands so she doesn’t get up and disappear. She’s the first person not to treat me like a child and I want to make the most of it.

‘What is it?’ she asks. ‘Not more problems, I hope,’ but she’s smiling and I know she doesn’t mind.

There’s something that’s been bothering me, even with everything else that’s been going on. I decide to run it past Gran.

‘OK, say there was this boy at school and I really liked him and we started playing together and I thought he liked me, but then I heard this girl say that she’d bet him all her pocket money that he couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .’ obviously I can’t say ‘get into her knickers’, so I finish, ‘erm . . . kiss me.’

Gran looks thoughtful.

‘Well, first of all I’d say the girl was probably jealous. Maybe she saw the boy playing with you and didn’t like it and bet him her pocket money to kiss you because she wanted to spoil things. Did he try to kiss you?’

My mind goes back to the night in the park. Oops, I’m in danger of losing focus here. Must concentrate. Yes, he kissed me, but that’s not what we’re really talking about here. He didn’t try and get into my knickers, which is what the bet was.

‘No,’ I say, ‘we just had a nice time playing.’

‘Well then,’ says Gran, ‘if I were you I’d ignore the girl and what you heard, and listen to your heart. If you think he likes you he probably does, so you should carry on playing with him. Don’t stop on account of some silly girl.’

Of course! I know in my gut that Seth did like me and wasn’t pretending. And to think that I was going to let that stuff Sasha said ruin it for me. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe her. I look gratefully at Gran.

‘You’re right,’ I tell her. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem,’ says Gran. I see that she looks tired. God! How could I be so selfish! I’ve been going on about myself and my stupid problems, problems that don’t even exist any more, when it’s Gran I should be thinking of.

‘Gran?’

‘Yes, love?’

‘Listen. I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt you were ill and you wouldn’t go to the doctor. It was really scary, Gran. Please, please, please will you go to a doctor and then I can stop worrying.’

Gran laughs.

‘Good heavens,’ she says, ‘I think we’d better get you a crystal ball.’ She drags the now cool teapot over and, placing it between us, puts my hands on it like it’s a crystal ball. Then she laughs again. ‘Can you see anything else in the tea leaves, Gypsy Alice?’

‘Gran! I’m serious!’

‘That’s what’s so funny,’ she says. ‘The thing is, I have been feeling out of sorts lately and I went to the doctor, so don’t worry.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Well, she’s not sure what’s wrong with me so she’s doing tests. I’m sure it will be fine.’ She doesn’t say this last bit with any conviction, though, and when I study her face she doesn’t look worried like you’d expect – she looks sad. And then I know that she knows about the cancer and all the planning in the world isn’t going to change this one.

‘Don’t cry,’ she says, using a finger to wipe away the tear that’s running down my cheek. But she doesn’t try to make light of it, she just looks even more sad.

‘Listen,’ she goes on, ‘if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life it’s that feeling sorry for yourself is a big waste of time. If there’s something about your life that you don’t like, then change it, and if it really can’t be changed, you have to learn to live with it. Moping or getting angry just makes life unpleasant.’

I can see her mentally shaking her sadness off and focusing her eyes back on me.

‘Now that,’ she says, ‘is strictly between you and me. I don’t want your mum worrying about me while she’s got a new baby to look after.’ She stands up. ‘I’m going to ring the hospital and
see if that baby’s made an appearance yet.’

Sooty marches into the room and stands at the back door meowing. Gran goes across to let him out.

‘Wait!’ I shout. Her hand stops midway to the door handle. ‘Sooty isn’t allowed out,’ I tell Gran.

I’ve just had an idea. If he doesn’t go out at all, he can’t get run over.

‘What do you mean?’ asks Gran.

‘He mustn’t go out. The vet said. Mum was going to get him a litter tray this morning. She must have forgotten.’

‘Oh my,’ says Gran. ‘What a palaver. He does look pretty desperate.’

‘Don’t panic,’ I tell her, diving for the cupboard under the sink, where I pull out an old roasting tin that Dad ruined on the barbecue. ‘We can use this for now.’ I hand it to her. ‘I’ll hold Sooty while you fill it with soil from the garden.’

‘Goodness, you are a resourceful girl,’ says Gran, obviously impressed. She’s not the only one. I’m pretty impressed by my quick thinking as well.

I grab Sooty so that he can’t escape out of the door when Gran goes out to get the soil. He doesn’t like it and struggles to get free.

‘Stop it,’ I tell him. ‘I’m doing this for your own good. It’s not forever. Just until Mum gets back.’

He scratches the back of my hand, but I don’t mind. For the first time I feel like I’m actually doing something to change things.

I leave Gran to ring the hospital and go up to my room. I need
some time to think about what’s happened.

I dig out the notebook and look at the list.

1. Stop Sooty from getting run over
.

2. Stop Mum and Dad from splitting up
.

3. Find a way to get back to reality (?)

4. Make Sasha’s life hell.

I’m tempted to tick off number one, but decide I’d better wait. I don’t want to tempt fate.

Number two is still a problem. I never did get to the library to get those marriage guidance leaflets, or the Gambler’s Anonymous stuff. I haven’t done enough. All I’ve done about it so far is to listen to Mum and Dad arguing. I suppose I did try and get Dad not to go out. Big deal. It didn’t even work. OK, so what have I learnt from their arguments?

a) That Mum’s unhappy about Dad going to the pub and the bookies so much.

b) That Dad’s unhappy about Mum nagging him all the time and me whining.

That seems a bit unfair. After all, it’s his behaviour that’s making us nag and whine. Or maybe it’s the fact that we nag and whine that’s driving him out of the house and to the pub and the bookies. God! I don’t know.

It’s all very well for Gran to say it’s not her place to interfere, but this is my life we’re talking about! I have to interfere.

I will make my parents stay together if it’s the last thing I do. I just haven’t worked out how yet.

I slump back on to the bed and consider number three.
Find a way to get back to reality (?)
. Obviously if I’m going to achieve number two I can’t work on this one yet. Besides, I’m
not sure I know what ‘reality’ is any more. I don’t think I believe in the coma theory. I mean, everything is too real. I’m not here in my mind – I’m definitely here in body. Maybe I’m in some sort of parallel universe. What if I can’t get back? Will I always be mentally seven years ahead of myself? When I reach fourteen in this world will I actually be twenty-one?

Now I’ve worked out that Seth does like me, and all that stuff Sasha said was probably her just being horrid, I really want to get back and ring him. Oh my God! What if I have to wait seven years before I see him again? What if I manage to keep Mum and Dad together and then – in this world – Dad gets a new job and we have to move away? Then I’d never even meet Seth.

What if everything happens exactly as it did before and then, when I finally reach fourteen (again), and I’m in the park after Sasha’s party and I fall off the roundabout again and end up back here again . . . Oh God! I can’t even think about that one!

What was it that Gran said earlier? ‘If you can’t change something then you have to learn to accept it and make the most of it’ or something like that. And not feel sorry for yourself. Right. Moving on, then.

I look at number four on the list.

4. Make Sasha’s life hell
.

I put a line through it. I’m not going to do that any more. I don’t like the way it makes me feel. I’m not a bully and I don’t want to turn into one. And it’s not because I’m really fourteen and feel like I’m picking on a little kid, it’s because I don’t want to turn into one of those girls that makes herself
feel big by making other people look small.

I admit I’m feeling quite pleased with myself for this mature attitude when Gran calls up the stairs and says it’s time to go to the hospital.

When Gran drops me off at school the next day she says, ‘Your mum and baby brother will be coming home today. Won’t that be nice?’

I put on my best ‘happy’ face. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately – pretending everything’s just fine when really it’s anything but.

As soon as I get into the playground Sasha comes bounding up.

‘Well?’ she says.

‘Well what?’ I reply. If she starts on about the skipping rope again I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

‘The baby! Has your mum had the baby? What is it? What’s it called?’

So I have to go off into Baby Enthusiasm again, only now I’m quite enjoying it. I tell her it’s a boy and that he’s called Rory and that even though he’s a bit scrunched and red he’s
actually quite sweet.

At the hospital last night, something occurred to me. Something major.

In the car, as we were driving to see the new baby, I was still congratulating myself on the fact that I’d decided not to be a bully. All the way there Gran was going on about the baby and how nice it was going to be for me. I had to pretend to be all excited because I didn’t want her to think I was jealous or anything. It’s only Rory, for God’s sake! I was thinking. Anyone would have thought that Mum had just given birth to the second Messiah, the way Gran was going on.

Dad was there when we arrived, but he soon made himself scarce.

‘Have to go and wet the baby’s head with the lads,’ he said as he backed out of the room. I had a sudden image of Trish ranting on the other end of the phone that Dad had disappeared. I wondered if he was about to do the same to us, which was silly really because I know he didn’t.

I followed him out into the corridor and could just see him disappearing round the corner into the waiting area. I hurried after him, thinking that I was too late and that he’d have gone, but when I turned the corner I could see him standing outside talking on his phone.

I pushed the heavy doors open and walked up behind him.

‘OK, I’ll see you in about half an hour. I’ll stop off on the way and pick up a bottle of wine.’

‘See you later, Dad,’ I said, trying not to sound like I was whinging. He spun round like I’d stabbed him with a red hot poker.

‘God, Alice – you nearly gave me a heart attack!’ He didn’t take the phone away from his ear. ‘I’m just arranging to meet the lads.’ He spoke into the phone again. ‘Right, I won’t be long. Bye.’ He hung up the phone. ‘What are you doing following me out here? Run along back inside to your mum.’

‘You will be home before I’m asleep, won’t you?’

‘Sure I will, Princess,’ he said. Somehow I didn’t believe him.

But he hadn’t just disappeared all those years ago, I thought. That’s not what happened. Still, I felt uneasy as I went back inside. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

As I was walking through the waiting area I spotted a huge rack of leaflets. I remembered that I hadn’t been able to get to the library. Maybe there was something here that would be useful. It only took me a few minutes to find exactly what I needed. I ended up with two leaflets on alcohol abuse, one about the impact it had on your health and the other on getting help, including a flyer on support groups, that were held in the hospital. I didn’t take the one on binge drinking as I didn’t think it applied to my dad. I had one on gambling addiction, again with information on support groups and I also found one on post-natal depression. As I made my way back to the ward, I was feeling very pleased with myself. I stuck the leaflets into the back of the waistband of my skirt and pulled my jumper over them.