183 Times a Year (35 page)

Mum's not right lately. I thought it was coz she had that SAD thing but Spring is here and she still seems zoned out somehow. I can't believe she's still not talking to Ruby. I caught her standing and staring at the cherry blossom tree in front of Nan and Grandad's house the other day. She just stood there for ages. I'm not really a naturist and stuff but even I have to say it was like, amazing; “a breathtaking, beautiful pink cataract of bloom” – I think that's the way Mum described it?

Actually I need to write that down. I write all the time now when I'm inspired – scribbles and nonsense that become songs for the band. Joe inspires me a lot, and Dad. It's been two months now since Dad last contacted me. Dickhead. Everyone
keeps
saying I have to stop writing sad shit all the time though.

I can't believe Pheeb's baby is due any week now. She's like well big – in a nice, pregnant sort of way. I still don't understand why she's having a baby so young though? Sometimes I think its coz she thinks there was nothing else for her to do. She wasn't very clever at school, but then again neither was Maisy. I haven't seen her like forever now but Chelsea's still being a complete bitch coz even though she's miles away – up north with no money apparently – she made like a well derogatory comment about the picture Pheebs posted showing off her baby bump. Said she was fat. Pheebs was like well upset so I messaged back.

You're not pretty if you're mean to people. That's #UGGGGLLLLLYYYY!

I'm pleased to say lots of people agreed. Stick that up your fake arse Chelsea!

Joe's just text me. He wants to see me again tonight. I look at his photo on my phone – he's just like so perfect and sooooo fit, almost even more so than Alex from Arctic Monkeys actually. And he told me he loved me last night. He hadn't even been drinking, so I know he meant it. So why does he act like I'm invisible when he's with his friends?

Arrrrrggghhh! Whatevs! Why are people so complicated?

LIZZIE

Spring has well and truly sprung but winter still resides deep within me. Although not particularly large or fierce, the black dog has been my constant companion these past months. I try my best not to feed him but I'm sure he gets bigger and grows stronger every day. I have so much to be grateful for, so it's wrong on so many levels to allow this blackness to engulf me.

Mum has been given her first year clear of cancer, both the girls are doing exceptionally well at college, Connor is settling
in
at Secondary school and Dean has offered Simon a promotion at work, although it's meant him having to work away from home a lot more.

Dean has assigned some of Andy's work to Simon because Andy is cutting down his workload to spend more time with Ruby apparently. God I miss her, but I still can't forgive her so that, as they say, is that. I never knew I had it in me to be so unforgiving. It doesn't sit comfortably though. That's why I won't explain my estrangement from Ruby with anyone else. I don't want to corrupt their thoughts with my pain, make the kids or Simon or Mum and Dad for that matter feel obliged to choose a side.

Ruby still texts me from time to time. Less lately, usually one or two sentences, pleading to be heard. I still ignore them. However, I can't quite bring myself to delete her number from my phone, not just yet anyway.

Despite my good fortune though, Maisy is back to hating me and hasn't called me “Mum” in months. She blames me and solely me for the fact we're not able to give her some money towards her trip to Australia. Cassie thinks I'm a complete bitch to abandon my best friend, and my lovely Connor appears to be morphing into a teenager – only very gradually, but it's happening nonetheless. He is still very demonstrative in his affection towards me however he does lose patience with me from time to time, telling me to “Do one Mum – just do one” when I misunderstand him. I still haven't worked out what “doing one” entails?

Amber looks terrible and just scowls at me when she comes into the library, usually to make trouble. And there are also rumblings of further job losses at work. On top of all that I'm still trying to come to terms with Raj's suicide attempt.

Tabitha was most upset when she found out I was the one who discovered Raj and got him to hospital to have his stomach
pumped.
His family were away on holiday and something about his demeanour at work unsettled me. He went home early saying he felt unwell. All my primal instincts were screaming at me to check on him. His door, thank god, was unlocked, and I found him face down in his own vomit, surrounded by empty pill bottles and packets.

It was shocking, truly shocking and not least because I had no idea Raj had been feeling so desperate. I was not best pleased to see my neighbour Tabitha at the hospital. However I was pleasantly surprised to see a softer side to her when Raj came round. She seemed genuinely concerned for her friend. She still enjoyed gossiping about it to all and sundry though, but thankfully had the good sense not to reveal his identity.

It turns out Raj is gay and is struggling to reconcile his love for a man he has known for some time and bringing shame on his family. If he chooses the man he loves he loses his family, and if he chooses his family he loses the man he loves. I said he must speak with his family – that perhaps he underestimates them. Surely they loved him and wouldn't just abandon him? He told me I was naive and I was the one who underestimated just what people were capable of. I thought of Scott and the way he is – or should I say isn't – with Cassie and Connor. And then I thought of Ruby and what she had done to me. I realised, sadly, that Raj was right.

CASSIE

Thank god, Mum seems to be back to normal. Well, as normal as she's ever likely to be anyway. She really scared me the other day. I came home from college early coz the tutor for our afternoon lesson went home sick, so we were all allowed home. A few members of the band stayed and practised but I had this like strange urge to go home.

Good
bloody job I did coz I found Mum in the kitchen drunk out of her head. She'd bunked off work, which she like
never
does, and was dancing round the kitchen to Bob Dylan's
I Want You
(I'm sure I remember that song playing a lot when I was little before Mum and Dad split up). It was playing full blast on repeat. Mum was wearing her jammie shorts and T-shirt, empty bottle of wine in one hand and empty wine glass in the other. She was laughing and dancing barefoot round the kitchen. She barely even noticed me when I came in and even laughed when I shook her and asked her what the hell she was doing.

I tried to turn Bob Dylan off but she just turned him back on again then grabbed another bottle of wine and screamed at me when I tried to take it off her. I told her she was scaring me and I was going to get Nan or Ruby. Then she went mad and grabbed me. She told me to
NEVER EVER
bring that fucking bitch anywhere near her. I think she meant Ruby, not Nan! I said I didn't understand what the problem was, that she and Ruby had been friends for years and surely whatever their stupid problem was they could work it out?

Then Mum crumpled to the floor, really sobbing and crying, tears and snot everywhere. I really wanted to ring Ruby but something inside told me not to. I knew there was a line and I couldn't cross it, even though I wanted to. Then Mum suddenly started heaving, like Romeow sometimes does when he has a fur ball in his throat. Then she like threw up everywhere. It was like well gross coz her hair and everything got covered in sick.

I don't know how I did it but I managed to get Mum upstairs and in the shower, then I went back downstairs and cleared up all the sick on the kitchen floor, which was like sooooo disgusting. When I went back up to check on Mum she'd crashed into bed and left the shower running. I laid a towel over her and put a bucket next to her and sat with her for a while until she properly fell asleep. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon watching crap
TV
and checking on Mum in between.

I got rid of the empty wine bottles and when Simon got home I just told him, and Connor and Maisy, that Mum had a tummy bug. She slept all afternoon and all night and mostly all of the next day and night. But today she's fine and acting like nothing happened. She did look at me across the dinner table and mouth the word “thanks”, but that's it. I know she won't say anymore and I'm too scared to ask coz I don't want to see her like that again. I think it's got something to do with Maisy though coz when I was dragging her upstairs to the shower all she kept saying was “ask that fucking bitch about your sister”.

Chapter 32

COMPLACENCY

LIZZIE

Tired. Why am I so tired? I open Maisy's bedroom door and stare at the carnage before me and feel my mood deflating as fast as my sanity. What's that saying about kids? Something along the lines of “
they break your back when they're young, your hearts when they've grown
”. Admittedly things were difficult when Scott left. Trying to balance a job to pay the mortgage and getting the children to school and childcare felt like a never-ending whirlwind. Most of it passed in a haze of constant exhaustion. A continuous round of school runs, collections from after school clubs and childminders, trips to the dentist and doctors, hospital appointments, ballet classes, swimming lessons, piano and guitar lessons, football, karate and dance classes. I'm sure I met myself coming most days.

Still, those hazy years – years that passed in a weary blur – were somehow better than the lull I find myself in at the moment. Admittedly there were times spent mopping up tears (especially Cassie's), trying to explain why Scott had let both her and Connor down
again
. Nonetheless we had fun. Our cosy home of three oozed with love and affection. I loved my children, and they loved me back.

Then we met Simon and Maisy and life became – if it was at all possible – a little more hectic. But it was good, it worked. So how did I get here, a place of sulky, surly indifference – at least on the part of the girls (although Connor is fast catching
them
up)? A place where I love, but most of the time dislike, my daughters? Why must everything be a battle, every request ignored and every rule broken? Why do we have to live in such disharmony?

They're teenagers, it's their job to hate, disrespect, and ignore you. Nobody said it'd be easy
.

‘I know, I know,' I reply out loud.

And you can stop doing that
.

‘Doing what?' I ask no-one in particular.

Talking to yourself out loud. They'll take you away.

‘Hmmmm …' I snort. ‘I should be so lucky;
they
won't take anyone anywhere these days. Government cuts are leaving most services at breaking point. My advice if you are going to have a breakdown? Be sure to do it during the day because the crisis teams are closed outside office hours. I should know because a number of those poor individuals most in need of help – but not qualifying for one stupid reason or another – often seek sanctuary within the library. Raving, tumultuous half-people left to their own devices, wandering aimlessly amongst the fiction and non-fiction, desperate to find relief from the inclement British weather and their troubled thoughts.

I step into Maisy's room and sigh. How many glasses does she have in here for god sake? There must be at least twenty. And they all appear to have their own flourishing growths. How difficult is it to pick the bloody glass up, carry it downstairs and put it into the dishwasher?

I can feel the resentment rising within me. As usual, Simon's not here to help. I know he's working harder than ever – for us – but there's a part of me that firmly believes he's happy to be away from the day-to-day shit.

Posters of ominous looking individuals adorned across Maisy's bedroom walls stare at me – some in various states of undress, others hidden by menacing masks or disturbing
make-
up, not a smile in sight. Her carpet is a polluted sea of chocolate wrappers, dirty underwear, clean underwear, empty coke cans, cigarette packets, an assortment of nail polish bottles (mostly shades of black), make-up (mostly black), old clothes, new clothes, clean clothes, dirty clothes (mostly black) all intermingled with plates containing half eaten food in various states of decay.

I scream – Arrggghh! – but only I can hear it in my head. I refuse to deal with this. I walk out and close the door behind me.

I open Cassie's door and hover reluctantly. It's the antithesis of Maisy's room and I am greeted by the aroma of recently burned incense sticks and sweet smelling candles. An array of cerise pinks and hedonistic purples clash with Laura Ashley bed linen and an eclectic mix of rock and pop stars watch me as I tentatively scan the usual hiding places. Although on first sight Cassie's room is far tidier than Maisy's she too appears to be completely incapable of transferring mugs, cups and plates back to the kitchen. And, as expected a hotchpotch of culinary devices and utensils, including a whisk of all things, have been shoved under her bed or neatly stacked behind her curtains.