183 Times a Year (47 page)

I sort through the pile of letters that have arrived and quickly discard the flyers and ignore those not addressed to me. My eye however is drawn to a couple addressed to Cassie from UCAS. I wonder? Hopefully the news is good?

The only letter marked for my attention is a small white
envelope
in bad handwriting from a PO box.

I'm pretty sure I know who it's from. I've been expecting something. Thank god Amber did go to the Police but I'm glad she spoke to Simon first. He helped her, along with the women from the refuge, to find a solicitor, and they did a deal to make sure she wasn't charged under the law of joint enterprise – Guilty by Association as it were. Simon knew I would have wanted him to help Amber.

My mind wanders back to that day and my stomach performs a tiny somersault, the events of eight months ago suddenly resurrected before my eyes with blinding accuracy. A faint whiff of body odour dances around my nostrils as does the smell of alcohol. My tongue sticks to the roof of my barren mouth and the palms of my hands sweat profusely. I count to ten very slowly as the fear I can't ignore rushes through me. Fear is okay, it'll subside – panic however is not acceptable. To my great surprise I burst into tears, great big, sobbing, salty tears. I use the back of my hands to wipe my tears away, my fear and anxiety suddenly replaced by anger and confusion. I thought I was stronger than this?

‘Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhh! I will not let this define me you baaarrstaarrd!' I scream. Romeow jumps, his look now one of utter contempt. If he could speak I'm sure he would be telling me “to get a grip”.

And he's right of course.

I flick the switch on the kettle. Strong, hot coffee is what's needed.

Coffee made, I grab the envelope and once again take my rightful place next to Romeow. No longer hesitant I rip the envelope open and take out a folded piece of typed A4 paper. I take a deep breath and begin to read:

Dear
Lizzie

I don't think I've ever written a letter in my entire life but if I had, this would be like the hardest one I have ever written. I can never explain to you how sorry I am, and how I wish, for your sake, you had never met me. This terrible thing would never have happened to you if you hadn't known me. You could have died.

I came to visit you at the hospital (it was me that called the ambulance). I sneaked in. No-one saw me; no-one knew I was there. I didn't recognise you, couldn't believe what a mess Travis had made of you. He'd been following you for some time but I had no idea he was going to hurt you. Something happened to me then, when I saw you lying in that hospital bed. I knew I had to make a change. I went to the Women's Refuge you told me about and they, and your Simon, persuaded me to talk to the Police. Then they sent me to another Refuge away from everyone and everything I knew. Which was a good thing because it meant I could start over again.

The refuge has helped me find a place to live. It's small but it's mine and I'm careful who I choose as friends. I'm also working a few hours a week in a shop and I'm doing a computer course (which is why this letter is so good because I have a tutor and spellchecker to help me!). My tutor is nice. She reminds me of you, kind, but strong. You'd have to be strong to put up with my shit eh?

I've had my baby, a little girl. I've called her Elizabeth after you; although I call her Beth for short coz there'll only ever be one Lizzie. I hope you don't mind?

It's hard sometimes and Beth doesn't sleep well. I get sad and frightened, mostly frightened that I'll be a bad Mum. That's when I think about giving Beth up for adoption or
something.
But, then I think of you and how you never gave up on me and I remember how sad you said you was when you got divorced and how it was just a grieving process and how it gets better in time. When I thought about it I realised that's what I'm sort of going through, a divorce, from everything and everyone I know. So I know it'll just take time eh?

So I pull myself together and my goal is to do well for myself then come back and see you, with Beth, and make you proud of me.

I'm so sorry Lizzie, really. Thank you for always believing in me though.

Lots of Love, Amber xxx

I put the letter down, stunned. Dad often says good things come out of bad – look at Scott for god sake. Tears run freely down my face. I am filled with a myriad of emotions but the overwhelming one that competes for my attention is pride. I'm filled with a heart-warming sense of pride. Realistically I know it won't be easy for Amber but I love her and will always be thinking of her. I wish her all the happiness she deserves and I will always carry hope for her here in my heart.

‘Good luck Amber,' I say out loud. At least, they're the words in my head but not necessarily the one's that come out of my mouth.

Chapter 46

THE SEARCH FOR INDEPENDENCE

CASSIE

It's April 17, 2015 and Nan's second official year free of cancer – Yay! And OMG. Oh my actual bloody god. Mum is like such a moaning cow, which is like amazing coz it means things are getting back to normal. I'll never moan about her moaning again – not much anyway.

Coming home to fresh cooked spag bol and Mum dancing, as badly as ever, around the kitchen to Bob Dylan blaring out of the CD player, is what it's all about for me. The only difference now is I join in too. Home feels like home again.

Mum's more or less completely recovered now, even her brain. Mum says any damage caused to that was done a long time ago by us kids. Ha ha. So funny. Not! She does still say the odd thing from time to time though, which can be a bit embarrassing, especially if we're out in public and she drops a swear word. I just tell people she's got problems – namely Tourette's caused by two teenage, pain in the arse, daughters.

‘Oh my god, is this it?' I shriek. ‘It's like well aaammmaaazing. Huge. Sick. Errrrrrr, actually, no, forget I said that. It reminds me of school. I hated school. Actually it looks like well scary. Oh my god it looks like a prison. I can't go to this university, it looks like a prison.'

Simon sighs. ‘Cassie!' he says. ‘You've managed to turn a potential university from amazing to a prison in the space of
three
seconds.'

‘I know but … but …'

‘But give it a chance Cassie for god's sake,' Mum says.

‘Hmmmmm, okay,' I reply. The truth is I keep finding fault with all of the universities we've looked at coz I'm actually a bit scared. Not that I'll ever admit that to Mum and Simon. I am excited too though. The Incandescent Adolescents are disbanding at the end of the summer whilst we all go off to study at different places. I'm not studying music to be famous or any of that shit. I don't want to be a star or anything (I already am in the eyes of the people important to me) but I do want to reach for them. I'm not sure what the future holds, but who is? What I do know is I want to do something with music. Anyway, like Grandad always says,

‘It's not a life. It's an adventure!!!!'

Life will definitely be a lot different for Mum, a lot quieter without me. And Maisy, of course, has already left and lives in Oz now with Crazee. We Skype and FaceTime with her quite a bit. I think Mum really misses her. She cried for about two days when she left. Maisy will never admit it but I think she misses Mum well loads too – and me (of course) and Simon and Connor.

My lovely friend Luke, after our wonderful night together, is back in the friend zone. Thankfully he's grown up enough to understand. It didn't feel slaggy or wrong to sleep with him. It was beautiful but I just needed a friend that night.

I've started to realise boys are just as complicated as girls. Not long after Mum's attack I started to realise that Joe doesn't really care for me. No, actually that's not true, he does care for me, but he also cares too much about what his friends think. Anyway since I rejected him he wants me more than ever now. What is it with people always wanting what they can't have?

Joe bombards me with texts on a daily basis and has even written me a letter and sent me flowers – like a proper bouquet,
not
a bunch grabbed from the corner shop. I still like him, but so much has happened and somewhere along the way I've changed. I'm not closing the door to a possibility of us, but right now I need some time to find out who Cassie is.

Dad said he'll come and visit me at Uni. Frankly I'll believe it when I see it, but who knows? I hope he does. He doesn't know about Lilly. And unless anyone else tells him he never will coz I'm not going to tell him. And of course, when I get back for the Christmas holidays I'm going to be Godmother to little Nancy. God knows why Pheebs chose me. I wasn't sure about the name Nancy – it seemed a bit old fashioned. But I changed my mind when Pheebs explained that she took the name from Charles Dickens's
Oliver.
I asked her if she meant the movie? Pheebs said no, from the book. Turns out Pheebs is an avid reader, a real bookworm. I've known her for years and I never even knew.

Sometimes we're so sure we know people – and we don't, not really. I'm like, so honoured that she's asked me to be Godmother and everything but I don't know a bloody thing about babies. I keep having this reoccurring nightmare that I'll drop poor little Nancy in the font thing on the day.

I'm still in awe of Pheebs, being a parent and everything. I don't envy her one bit though; I know now how hard it's been for Mum. And I so can't believe how much poo actually comes out of such a little thing too. And it stinks like well bad. I'm not ready to be a parent, not yet anyway. But Pheebs seems happy so I'm pleased for her.

Me, Mum and Simon take a tour of the huge Uni campus that looks like a prison. Everyone seems nice but I think I've made up my mind this one's not for me, which is a shame coz I got talking to some really fit boys who are coming here. Oh well, I've taken their names and promised to contact them on Twitter and Facebook. As is usual with most things I think I'm going to choose the first Uni we looked at in Guildford.

We
all pile back in the car. Mum and Simon turn on Radio Two and I put my earphones in. I feel, what's the word, content? Yeah, content is a good word and a good feeling.

I'm so pleased Nan is now in her second year free of cancer – three more to go and we're home and dry. Oh my god, Grandad! I've just remembered that weird conversation I had with Connor in his bedroom all those months ago, when Mum came home from hospital.

I take a note pad and pen out of my bag. Now, what was it he said? Something about Grandad's name I think? I take the lid off my pen and start writing.

SALOCIN LEMALF

I stare at the name for several minutes, wondering if it's an acronym or anagram. I start to move all the letters around. I feel like I'm on an episode of Countdown. I'm rubbish at that and just as rubbish at this, until I turn the note pad around and then I see it. Oh my actual bloody god!

NICOLAS FLAMEL

What? OMG!! Wasn't he some sort of wizard bloke or whatever? I lift my phone from my bag and swipe the screen. I jab the internet icon and type in the name
Nicolas Flamel
. I select the first website that comes up and read:

Nicolas Flamel, born around 1327, was a well-known alchemist and only known maker of the Philosophers Stone. The Philosophers Stone (Latin: lapis philosophorum) is a legendary alchemical substance said to be capable of turning base metals into gold and also believed to be an elixir of life (sometimes in the form of a magical or medicinal potion), useful for rejuvenation and achieving immortality.

Immortality?
But, no one is immortal, except vampires and time-lords. And what the hell does rejuvenation mean? I stab the internet icon on my phone again and search for its definition. I read:

Rejuvenation: The phenomenon of vitality and freshness – restoring something or someone to a satisfactory state.

But … this is ridiculous? I re-read the last words, “restoring something or
someone
to a satisfactory state”. Was that
someone
Mum?

I re-open the Flamel tab and read some more:

Flamel lived in Paris, France during the fourteenth century where he met and married his wife Perenelle in 1368. Legend says the couple achieved immortality through the Elixir of Life – the Philosophers Stone.

‘What? What?' I shout.

‘Did you say something Cas?' Simon shouts from the front of the car. ‘What?' I say again.

For god's sake Cassie what on earth is the matter?' Mum asks.

‘I errrrr … ummmm.' I can hear Connor's voice in my head telling me to check Grandad's name but also reminding me of my promise not to say anything once I've worked it out.

‘Where was Grandad born?'

‘London,' Mum replies. ‘But you know that Cassie. Why do you ask?'