183 Times a Year (46 page)

‘Thanks then loser,' I laugh. ‘Let's start with your room shall we?' I run up the stairs as Maisy follows behind screaming.

‘Leave my fucking room alone.'

I fling the door open praying to God or any other religious thing I don't really believe in, that her room is at least
slightly
better than normal.

‘Oh my god, I don't bloody believe it. It's like a bloody miracle or something.
Your
room is actually tidy.'

Maisy sniffs. ‘Yeah, well, I just thought, you know …' She shrugs her shoulders.

‘Thought what?'

‘How pissed off Mum was with all the mess in the house before she was …' Maisy trails off. I look straight at her and realise my vision is now as blurred as hers is.

I quickly look away. ‘Loser. I need to take a photo,' I say, pulling out my phone. ‘It's ammmazzzing! I can actually see your carpet and everything.'

Maisy laughs. ‘Idiot,' she says again before punching my other arm.

‘Ouuuuucchhh! Bitch. Just coz you think you're some hard tattooed gangsta.'

‘Ahhhhhh yes, the Cassie I know so well has returned.'

‘I won't bloody miss you when you're gone.'

‘The feeling's mutual babe.'

We
hover for a moment, silently staring at each other before breaking into fits of laughter.

‘C'mon Sis,' she says. I can hear the warmth in her voice. ‘Let's check Connor's room.'

Connor's room, on the whole is pretty tidy really. It does have a sort of musty, fusty, mouldy cheese, smelly feet smell to it though. In fact, come to think of it, so does the room of every boy I know. Even Joe's room. Despite the fact he himself always smelled well delish, his room always had that same vague, whiff and pong of boy.

The main colours of Connor's room are boyishly blue. He has a smallish wardrobe, bedside cabinet (that has a photo of him and Mum on) and chest of drawers as well as a small silver desk and chair tucked away in the corner for his laptop. His silver framed bunk bed is one of those high sleeper ones. He sleeps on the top bunk and friends that sleep over take the bottom. His walls, like mine and Maisy's are covered with posters including characters from The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Doctor Who. Asking Alexander, Kurt Cobain and The 1975 also share the wall space as does Katy Perry and Melissa Auf der Maur.

‘It looks pretty tidy in here,' Maisy says. ‘You finish checking up here and I'll make a final check downstairs.'

‘Okay,' I say, wandering over to Connor's desk, picking up the plastic bottle of gunk he made with Grandad. The same one he carried with him on every single hospital visit to see Mum. I hold the bottle up towards the light, squinting to see if there's anything left in it. It's hard to tell. I shake it hard before unscrewing the lid attempting to look inside. I think it's virtually all gone. I take a sniff. It smells like the moisturiser Nan uses. I put the lid back on and spot Connor's bin on the other side of the room. I throw the bottle towards it. To my surprise, with a thud, it goes in.

‘
Nooooooooooo!!' Connor shouts behind me. ‘Don't you dare throw that away,' he says, bending down to fish the bottle out.

‘Why? It's empty. Besides, Mum's okay now.'

‘Yeah, well, it's special,' he says folding a protective hand around it. ‘Me and Grandad made it. And it's important stuff – it helped Mum get better.'

I look at Connor. ‘I'm not sure it did you know?'

‘It did,' he shouts back at me. ‘I know you think all the stuff Grandad does isn't true, but it is. You don't know anything!'

I can't help laughing. ‘Okay Connor, whatevs'

He doesn't reply but just looks at me for a minute. He sighs, heavily.

‘If I tell you something,' he eventually says. ‘You can't say anything – to anyone – ever. Okay?'

I roll my eyes. ‘Okay Connor.'

‘No, I mean it Cassie. You can't, not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER. Okay? Coz of Mum. It could change everything. You can't. EVER'

I can hear the front door opening downstairs. ‘You really can't Cassie.'

‘We're here, we're home,' Simon shouts. I look towards Connor's bedroom door then back at him.

‘OKAY, I get it. I won't say anything
ever!
Now, what the hell is it?'

‘It's Grandad.'

‘What about him?'

Connor sighs again ‘It's, well … you really can't say anything Cassie.'

‘C'mon you lot,' Simon shouts.

‘Just look at Grandad's name okay? And don't say anything when you've worked it out. Not to Mum, definitely not to Grandad and not even to me. Okay? Coming Mum,' Connor
shouts,
barging past me and heading for the stairs.

‘What? What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?' I call out, but it's too late, Connor is already half way down the stairs.

Chapter 45

BACK TO NORMAL … ALMOST

LIZZIE

Everyone has gone off to work, or school or college and the house is eerily quiet. You'd think I'd have had enough of quiet but as it descends upon me I'm more grateful for it than I realised. The last few days have been a whirlwind of visitors and phone calls wishing me well or a speedy recovery but frankly I feel worn out. I stare at the plaque on the wall, erected, as a homecoming gift, in my honour. I digest the words, chosen apparently, especially for me:

A Mother

Is She Who Can

Take the Place Of

All Others But

Whose Place No

One Else Can

Take.

I sniff inwards. I love the sentiment but …

‘Not true though is it?' I say to no one. Although due to the infancy of my slow repairing brain, the words that actually leave my mouth are something like, ‘Not the fucking toilet.'

It's painfully obvious my wonderful family have all coped far too well without my nagging presence. I should be proud,
happy
and safe in the knowledge they can, would be able to go on – should the need arise again – without me. It was, after all, all I'd wanted eight months ago.

I laugh to myself. I can hear Dad's voice and one of his favourite phrases running through my thoughts,

‘Careful what you wish for Lizzie, it may just come true.'

And it did. All I'd wanted was a little help around the house, for the kids to show a little initiative and ease the burden of the day-to-day crap, to do a few more chores, to notice when things needed doing. The truth is they took me for granted but when the shit well and truly hit the fan the incapable proved beyond all reasonable doubt that they were in fact, very capable.

‘We've got it all sorted Mum,' Cassie had said reassuringly. ‘Things will never go back to how they were and there's nothing for you to do except concentrate on getting better.' It was great to see her so self-assured, so confident. But the truth is, I'd taken them for granted too.

I sit here now, staring into space. I want things back to where they were. I was, I am Mum, I am the one who nurtures. And this has fuck all to do with women's lib. I'll fight against women's oppression and stereotyping until I take my last breath (which hopefully won't prove to be too soon) but this is about me – Lizzie Lemalf – Partner, Mother, Step-Mother and proud of it. I want to be the shoulder they cry on, their fortress and Zion, their helper and teacher, the gospel and preacher, the meal maker, deal breaker and if needed ball breaker, their mover and bed maker, their words of wisdom, lover to one and to the rest just Mum.

I sigh inwardly. Everyone has been so good. Simon was so nervous about leaving me on my own.

‘You sure you'll be okay babe?' he'd asked. He had the look of a concerned parent leaving their child on their first day of school. It was touching but suffocating at the same time. If I'm
honest
I'm terrified but I don't want them to wrap me up in cotton wool, afraid to leave a mess, afraid to upset me. Yes, I'm lucky to be alive, yes it will take time, yes it's very strange when the words that leave my mouth are not the ones I have lined up in my head, but the truth is I want my life back and no-one can see that. No-one except Mum maybe.

No-one else was suspicious of my painted smile as I waved them all off, Simon and Maisy to work, Cassie to college and Connor to school but Mum, who had dropped by with Freddy, put a familiar arm on my shoulder and said,

‘Don't worry love, they'll all be taking you for granted again before you know it.'

I'm sure she's right but what an adjustment, so much has changed. I hardly recognise Maisy with her blonde hair, barely-there make-up and permanently inked arm to match her permanently inked leg. And what about Connor? So tall, his sweet little voice breaking into a man's. And of course Ruby is pregnant and Andy has gone. I can't believe it, truly can't get my head round it. I'm brutally attacked and live to tell the tale and Andy drives his car for the god knows how many millionth time in his life and is instantly killed in a road traffic accident.

I shudder, in awe of both the fragility and strength of life, never more evident than when I saw my lovely friend Ruby again. Clearly she was grieving for the love of her life, and yet juxtapose to her grief was the obvious thrill and excitement of the new one growing in the huge bump she coveted with such pride.

The minute I laid my eyes on Ruby forgiveness came so easily, even before Cassie intervened and made me listen – in full – to Ruby's version of events. Why had I been so unforgiving? Even Cassie had had the good sense to see it was just one stupid mistake. Ruby is so much more to me than that one bad faux pas. We must always try to retain the capacity to forgive,
because
people are not split into good or bad. We are human, and that means there is some good in the more immoral and corrupt among us and definitely some bad in the best of us.

My thoughts turn to poor Andy again. I must go and visit him and say goodbye. Even if it does come out as garbled gibberish, Andy will be listening, he'll understand me – I know he will.

I think of my own lovely man, Simon. Such a sight for sore eyes when mine – fleetingly at first – flickered open. He didn't see me but I saw him, reading, holding and stroking my hand. Although it would be hours before I opened my eyes again, something told me that from that moment on I was going to be okay. And Mum and Dad, my wonderful parents, steadfast and strong looked so weary – who needs this kind of shit at their time of life? Jodi looked weary too, although that may have had more to do with the twins than me. And it was good to see Raj. He finally found the courage to tell his parents he was gay and they all took it surprisingly well, his Dad was actually more supportive than his Mum and his sister is chuffed to have a gay shopping companion.

And finally Cassie, my lovely woman-child has blossomed into something beautiful. Self-possessed, confident, strong and yet kind, it's almost impossible to see the old Cassie, although she does make a rather loud, guest appearance from time to time. Look out though world, I've a feeling we ain't seen nothing yet.

So engrossed have I become in my self-induced inertia, I don't realise until I look down at my phone that an hour has passed. My un-drunk coffee has gone cold and I haven't moved from the kitchen table.

I hear a familiar sound and look up to see Romeow casually saunter in from whatever secret sleeping place has kept him occupied. He stops in front of me, looking up, staring intently. He then lowers his back, as if ready for starters orders and using his front paws springs upwards, landing gracefully on
the
kitchen table. His walk towards me is relaxed but full of swagger. He sits directly opposite me and gazes at me through yellow eyes. Cat's eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul aren't they? Does he also see the same fragility in me everyone seems to?

‘Hey Romeow,' I say. ‘How are you?' Although not necessarily the exact words to leave my mouth, I think Romeow gets my gist. His response, quite out of character, is an affectionate one, nudging his nose against my cheek and purring loudly before tentatively stepping from the table onto my lap. His paws dance up and down in quick succession, ballerina pas de bourree style, before he finally curls himself into a purring ball of fuzz on my knee. For god's bloody sake, even the cat is at it.

‘When did you become so social? You can treat me with the same disdain you always have you know? I won't break.' Romeow purrs loudly in response. He isn't going anywhere. I'm flattered but I can't sit around
all
day.

Why not?

Should I stay or should I go? I stay a while longer, stroking the soft ball of fluff and enjoying this rare moment of affection. Footsteps on the drive break the silence and my stomach lurches forward. I'm relieved to hear the post-box rattle. I decide to make my move. I lift the sack of ginger fluffy skin from my knee and gently place him on the chair next to me. Romeow's eyes open temporarily and he flicks the end of his tail in obvious disapproval before quickly settling again. ‘Sorry Romeow,' I say. He ignores me. I smile. Perhaps things are getting back to normal.