Strawberry Sisters (16 page)

Ella’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t stop being friends with her because of this. She’d think it was silly.’

‘But
you
don’t think it’s silly. You get to choose your friends.’

Ella’s face cleared. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ I said.

‘Except us two,’ Chloe said, pointing a finger at herself and then me. ‘You’re stuck with us two.’

After a while, Chloe wanted to play Slam and since only two can play that game I left them to it. I drifted out into the hallway. Dad leant out of his study. ‘Everything all right?’
he asked.

I shrugged non-committally.

‘Come in,’ he said and he pulled the other chair up next to his. ‘How’s Lauren?’ he asked, turning away from his computer to face me. He’s definitely much
better at giving people his full attention these days.

I wasn’t sure it was a good idea for me to start talking about Lauren; my anger had mostly faded away, but I was still confused and upset.

‘She’s OK,’ I said. Then I couldn’t help adding, ‘I don’t really understand what’s going on with her; it’s like sometimes she’s too sick to
do anything and then other times she seems completely fine.’

‘I think that’s how it is with CFS,’ Dad said.

I heard Lauren’s mum’s voice in my head asking if I understood that Lauren had a serious illness and an uncomfortable feeling started bubbling up in my stomach as I realised that I
knew very little at all about CFS.

‘Are you feeling OK?’ Dad asked. ‘You seem a bit out of sorts.’

‘I’m just, you know . . . thinking about things.’

‘Anything in particular?’

I shook my head.

He opened his drawer and offered me a piece of fudge from his secret stash. We chewed for a minute.

‘What would you like to do tomorrow?’ Dad asked. ‘I haven’t seen much of you this weekend.’

‘Will the library be open?’ I asked.

‘Not on Sundays. Is it for homework?’

‘No, I thought maybe I could find out a bit more about CFS; Suvi says that books can help you learn about anything you can think of.’

Dad struggled so hard not to show his surprise that I was quoting Suvi that I almost laughed.

‘I think I ought to learn some more about it.’ I rubbed my eyebrow. ‘I should’ve done it before. I was a bit stupid and I just sort of assumed that the doctors would make
it go away.’

‘It’s tough when you realise that’s not always possible.’ He patted my knee. ‘You know another great source of information on any topic you can think of?’

I shrugged.

‘People. And not just people who write books. There must be a lot of people who have experienced what Lauren’s going through and thanks to modern technology . . .’ he pointed
to his laptop, ‘you can hear what some of them have got to say.’ He tapped away for a moment and then swung his laptop round so I could see what he’d found. It was a forum for CFS
sufferers.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. ‘Thanks!’

Dad pushed back his chair. ‘Take as long as you like. I’m going to make a phone call.’ He picked up his mobile and left the room.

I pulled my chair close to the desk. I don’t know why but I’d sort of assumed that Dad would hang around and talk a bit more. Maybe he hadn’t changed quite as much as I’d
thought.

I scanned down the page of thread titles and clicked on
Is it just me that finds other people’s reactions to CFS hard to handle
? The first post was by a woman who said she’d
been suffering from CFS for years and that one of the most difficult things about it was that many of her so-called friends didn’t seem to believe that it was a real illness. Other posters
replied saying how people had told them that they were lazy or that they didn’t ‘look ill’. I squirmed when I read that one. I knew I’d said that to Lauren a few times.

I spent an hour reading different threads. Every time I thought I’d found the saddest story, I came across another one. There was a woman who hadn’t been able to travel to her
son’s wedding. There was a man whose girlfriend had left him because she thought his illness was all in his head. And, over and over again, people spoke about feeling betrayed by their body
and simply not having the energy to even get dressed in the morning. When dad came back to his study, I was crying.

‘Amelia!’ He wrapped me up in a big hug. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’

‘It’s so horrible,’ I gulped. ‘Poor Lauren.’ I wasn’t making much sense but Dad took a look at the computer screen and I think he got the general gist.

He squeezed me tight and said, ‘It’s all right,’ until I got my sobs under control.

‘Listen,’ he said, wiping my tears with a tissue. ‘You mustn’t scare yourself with stories from the internet.’

‘But they’re true,’ I sniffed. ‘All these poor people have got CFS and it’s terrible.’ The tears started falling again.

‘I know,’ he said soothingly. ‘It’s rotten that this is happening to Lauren.’ He smoothed my soggy hair away from my face. ‘What you have to remember is that
the people who are posting here are probably at their lowest ebb. The internet is a useful tool, but you’ve got to keep in mind that it does have its limitations.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Who do you think is most likely to write a post on this forum? A CFS sufferer who’s having a bad patch so they’re stuck in bed, maybe with no one to talk to, or a CFS sufferer
who’s doing well and is out having a good time with their friends?’

I supposed he had a point there. ‘But the bad patches do happen.’

‘Of course, and I don’t think it hurts for you to know how tough things can be for someone with CFS, but it won’t help you or Lauren to dwell on it.’

I suddenly felt tired. When my dad had come into the room and wrapped me up in his jumpery hug, I’d thought that everything was going to be all right; that he’d fix things like he
did when I was a little kid. But he couldn’t fix it any more than the doctors could fix Lauren.

‘I’ve just been speaking to my friend, Azra,’ Dad said. ‘Remember we went to her barbeque last summer? She’s the doctor.’

‘I remember.’

‘I asked her what she knew about CFS.’

So he hadn’t disappeared to make a work call. My tears nearly started again. He wasn’t leaving me to it; he’d been doing his own research for me. I swallowed. ‘What did
she say?’

‘Well . . . it’s a difficult condition. Not everyone is in agreement about what exactly it is or the best way to treat it.’

‘Does Azra have patients with CFS?’

‘She’s not allowed to talk to me about individual cases because their details are confidential. But she did tell me that in the course of her career she’s seen a wide-ranging
level of impact of the condition.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that sometimes people are confined to their beds for long periods of time, while some have cycles of improvement followed by relapse, but then others learn to manage their
condition in a way that means that they can live something approaching a normal life. She’d even heard of sufferers who completely recover.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.’

I took a long breath. ‘So Lauren might get better,’ I said. ‘Or she might get better and then relapse.’ I thought about the first stories I’d read. ‘Or it
might just be awful for her the whole time.’

Dad looked serious. ‘You have to hope for the best,’ he said.

‘But what if she never gets better?’

‘Then I’m certain that you’ll be there to help her through it. You can’t influence Lauren’s health so it’s no use worrying about it. Concentrate on what you
can do and that’s being a good friend.’

He was right. I knew that I wouldn’t be looking up any more sad stories. I was glad that I had a clearer picture of what CFS meant because now I could appreciate what Lauren was going
through, but getting depressed about it wasn’t helpful.

Dad pulled me in for another hug. ‘I know it’s hard,’ he said. ‘But I’m here if you need to talk about it.’

And I felt better because, even though I was growing up and I knew that some of the problems I’d come across now wouldn’t be the kind that my dad could fix with glue or words or ice
cream, I also realised that he’d always be there beside me, whatever I was going through. And so would my mum. And even Suvi. Some difficult things can’t be made better but
they’re easier to get through if you have someone special by your side. I hoped I could be one of those people for Lauren.

I went to bed early, but I couldn’t sleep. At midnight, I was still thinking about Lauren and the things her mum had said to me on the phone. Had I really been selfish? I
turned my pillow over to the cool side and tried to relax, but Kirsti was stirring in the next room and a few seconds later she started to whimper loudly. I thought maybe I could shush her back to
sleep before she woke Suvi up so I slipped into her room and scooped her out of her cot.

‘
Shh
, baby,’ I whispered, patting her softly on the back like I’d seen Suvi do. Kirsti was warm and soft and it was actually really nice giving her a cuddle. I rocked
her gently and she closed her eyes. In a few minutes, I was pretty sure she was asleep again. I didn’t want to jolt her awake so, very slowly, I leant over the cot and lowered her back down.
Once I’d managed it, I stood watching her for a while. Babies are a bit noisy and dribbly, but they do look quite sweet when they’re asleep.

I tiptoed out of her room and walked straight into someone.

I gasped, but it was only Suvi in her dressing gown.

‘Is she . . .?’ she asked.

‘She’s gone back to sleep.’

Suvi’s shoulders sagged. ‘Did she wake you?’

‘I wasn’t asleep.’

‘Why is that? Are you OK, Amelia?’

‘I’m fine.’

The only light was coming from the bathroom, but even in the shadow I could see dark circles under Suvi’s eyes. ‘You should get back to sleep,’ I said.

Suvi tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘Every time I’m almost going to sleep, I think that I hear Kirsti crying.’

‘You look terrible,’ I said.

‘I do,’ she agreed.

I remembered how Ella knew exactly how to take care of Suvi when she was looking shattered the other day. ‘I could make you a cup of tea,’ I said.

Suvi seemed a bit surprised by this, which I suppose is understandable. I don’t think I’d ever made her a cup of tea before.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Maybe some camomile tea will help me to sleep.’

So we crept downstairs and I put the kettle on.

Suvi pulled her dressing gown more tightly round herself and sank into a chair. I tried to think of something helpful to say, but I couldn’t come up with anything so I got the milk out of
the fridge instead.

‘Thank you, Amelia,’ Suvi said. ‘It was kind of you to look after Kirsti.’

‘That’s OK. It didn’t take long for her to go back to sleep.’

Suvi made a snorting noise. ‘For me, it takes ages every time to get her to sleep. Maybe you should show me what it is that you do.’

‘Actually, I just did what I’ve seen you doing.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed strangely pleased by that.

I made the tea. Camomile for Suvi, which smells like hand cream, and normal for me.

‘Can you tell me why it is that you’re not sleeping?’ Suvi asked.

I switched my mug from my right to my left hand. ‘I was just thinking. About the concert and Christmas and everything.’

Suvi narrowed her eyes. ‘Amelia, I think that you’re trying too hard not to be the girl who complains any more.’

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Obviously, I have been trying to be less negative, but I didn’t think that anyone had noticed. I wasn’t sure that I wanted anyone to notice.

‘I think it’s good not to say every little thing that you don’t like, otherwise it’s very boring to listen to.’

Was she saying that I used to be annoying to listen to?

‘But you don’t have to keep away everything you’re thinking. Sometimes things are hard and it’s good to talk about them.’

‘Hmm.’ Maybe she was right. I used to want to make everybody miserable when I was miserable, but recently I’ve done the complete opposite and not spoken to anyone about Lauren.
Even when I’d been talking to Dad about CFS earlier, I hadn’t told him anything about what happened today with Lauren’s mum. ‘I don’t want to bring other people
down.’

‘There’s a difference between spreading your bad feelings about and telling someone your problems.’

I sighed. ‘I’m having some problems with Lauren. I feel like she never shares things with me any more. Important things.’

‘I see. Have you spoken to Lauren about this?’

‘Not really. It’s hard to find a good time.’

‘Why don’t you go to her house tomorrow?’

‘I don’t think her mum will let me in.’

Suvi blinked in surprise. ‘Why not?’

‘She doesn’t like me.’

Suvi tutted. ‘Why would she not like a girl like you?’

Which surprised me because I’ve been pretty horrible to Suvi in the past so I’d have thought she could think of lots of reasons why people wouldn’t like me.

‘You’re a great girl,’ Suvi said. ‘You’re smart and funny and loyal.’

I couldn’t help snorting then. ‘Lauren’s mum doesn’t know anything about that; she thinks I make Lauren’s illness worse.’