The Good Neighbour (15 page)

‘That’s what I’ve heard,’ Cath grinned. She gave Liam a glass of wine, and chatted about Minette, about how crazy she was about him. By the time Liam left, Cath knew he would keep on contacting Minette until she caved. It was good for her. She needed it.

The secretary was always the most useful person in any school, and Cath had made it a priority to get to know this one, Sophie Wallis.

‘No one will be using the hall, now lunch is done. You’ve got it all to yourself, Mrs Brooke.’

‘Thanks very much, Mrs Wallis. Hope you’re able to come along tonight?’

‘I can’t, I’m afraid, but I’ll definitely make a donation.’

‘So kind of you.’

Cath set up her information boards around the walls. She’d got some nice pictures of kids like Davey, and two of her in running gear from a 10K she did a few years ago. Another board had some basic facts about Duchenne, and the last one explained how donations were used. Next, she put little decorations on all the tables, plus pens, paper and copies of her sponsor forms. When the quiz was underway she’d take a few photos for the local rag.

She remembered with amusement how uncertain and polite she’d been, the first time she approached a newspaper. She didn’t suppose they’d be interested, but she was doing a sponsored parachute jump, might they be willing to mention it … She was astonished to find that they nearly bit her hand off. Talking to the young woman reporter who came out to interview her, Cath discovered that they were desperate for copy, and other papers were all the same. They were generally wildly understaffed, and a cute picture of a photogenic kid like Davey meant they could fill an easy half page. Mostly, the local rag in Troubletown just printed exactly what she’d written in the press release without changing a word. Hopefully the
Hove Gazette
would be the same. Though of course, there could be no more photos of her or Davey. Couldn’t risk the wrong person seeing them, especially when papers posted everything on the internet now. It didn’t matter. She had a lot of photos of a nice-looking Duchenne kid called Jerry. She’d taken them a couple of years ago at a fundraiser. Papers didn’t have the resources to check whether the person in the photo was the one mentioned in the press release.

The bell rang for the end of school shortly after Cath finished arranging the room. She found Davey in the playground, and bent down to give him a kiss but he ducked his head.

‘Oh dear,’ she laughed to another mother. ‘He’s already embarrassed about being kissed in public.’

The woman smiled. ‘Mine are the same.’

‘You coming to the quiz?’ Cath said.

‘I’d like to. I’ll ask my husband.’

Cath smiled and turned to the next person. Ask my husband? Poor her. Cath didn’t have to check in with
anyone
. She made all the decisions, did what she wanted.

She did sometimes find herself thinking about Andy, though it was pointless. There was no going back now. She’d been remembering this morning when Davey was born, and Andy just sat there staring at him with this crazy smile, like he’d got religion or won the lottery or something. ‘Thank you,’ he said to her, but it was the way he said it. She’d not forget that. Compared with the little boys round here – Ryan, Abe, Liam – Andy was a real man.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to read the notes he sent to Gina. What would it be like, if he could still be in her life? But he couldn’t, and that was that. She had to leave that all behind: Troubletown, the hospital and Andy. To snap out of it, Cath reminded herself of the feeling of his hand on her cheek, the sting and the shock of it.

Davey waited patiently while Cath prowled the playground, schmoozing the mums, reminding them about the quiz. ‘For kids like Davey,’ she gestured to him, ‘and the school gets half the money so it’s win-win.’

By the time they left to collect Lola, more than twenty women had promised they’d come, with or without husbands. Cath chatted enthusiastically to Davey as they made their way to the car, but he was monosyllabic. It wasn’t like him to sulk.

‘What’s up, Davey? I’ve not gotten a word out of you.’

He didn’t answer, and started to push himself across the road before she had time to check.

‘Davey!’ she pulled him back as a car whizzed past them. ‘Crazy idiot!’ She shook her fist at the driver. ‘Not you, lovie, him. But you got to be careful, they can’t see you so well down there.’

Once safely on the other side, Cath said, ‘Listen, lovie, is it about your room? I know you didn’t want to move, but I couldn’t keep carrying you up and downstairs. Is there anything you want for it? I can’t afford the computer yet, but we could get something nice, cushions or something.’

She was taken aback by the look Davey gave her. Sceptical, suspicious. She had never seen that expression on his face before, but it was familiar nonetheless.

‘Gosh, you remind me of your father,’ she said and ruffled his hair.

‘Air Max trainers,’ he said.

‘Ah yes, your old ones are no good any more, I remember. Who’s got them Air Maxes, then? Someone in your class?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to look like a spazzo.’

‘Pete’s sake, Davey!’ Cath put her hand on his chair to stop him. ‘Who the hell called you that?’

‘No one, I’m just saying.’

‘I don’t want to hear that word again, OK? That word is banned. We’ll have a look for trainers this weekend. Come on, let’s get Lolly.’

Once home, Cath instructed Davey to put on something smart, and told Lola to plait her hair. Minette and Liam were long gone, of course – it was nearly five – and Minette had stripped the bed and hung the towels up. Cath put on some make-up, and her favourite dress, a black shift with a low neck.

She called to Davey to get his coat on, and was juggling bags, boxes of cakes, and her coat, when he wheeled himself into the hall wearing a SpongeBob SquarePants T-shirt.

‘Heaven’s sake, Davey. I said something smart. Go on.’

She expected him to go back into his room, but he stood, or rather sat, his ground. Cath felt the rage building inside her. ‘I’m not joking, OK? Put a proper shirt on. We’re already late.’ She started to push his chair back towards his room, but he put the brakes on, making her jolt her arm.

‘You listen to me, mister,’ she said. She pushed Lola out of the way and knelt in front of Davey, her hands on his chair. ‘You know this event is important to me. To us. It will raise a lot of money. If you want me to even think about getting you trainers, get changed
right now
.’ She hissed the last bit, and was mighty relieved when he wordlessly spun his chair round and went back into his room.

These rebellions were becoming increasingly frequent. He was already too big for her to manhandle against his will. She tried not to show him how she struggled to get him in and out of the bath; in six months she wouldn’t be able to do even that. She felt a surge of exhaustion and wished she could stay home, crawl upstairs and get under the covers of her very own bed. Then her mummy would stop being angry, she was never angry when her baby was ill, she would come and smooth her forehead, kiss it gently, close the curtains, say ‘get some sleep now, little one’.

Cath went into the bathroom and took a few ibuprofen, just double the recommended dose. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and for a horrible, frightening moment, didn’t quite recognise herself. Her eyes looked more widely spaced than she remembered, her skin paler and more papery. There were faint criss-crosses of lines under her eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. She blinked hard, and the reflection turned back into her.

When she came downstairs Davey was in the hall, wearing a shirt and a filthy expression. So she’d won that one. She mightn’t be so lucky next time.

Both kids were silent all the way to school, and Cath felt her tension start to build. The back of her skull felt hollow and loose, as if it was coming away from her head. No, please, not now. She forced herself to work through one of the strategies that Gina’s mum had taught her: focus on a situation in which she had control. She turned her mind to the other week, Lola and the M&Ms, how she managed to sort that out. Her breathing started to calm down, though when they arrived at the school she saw how her arms trembled as she got Davey into his wheelchair. She stood for a moment in the carpark, gently rubbing her arms, soothing down the wires. Once inside the school, Cath relaxed when she saw how many people had turned up. The hall was buzzing. They were going to be sold out, in fact they had to squeeze in a few over the official fire safety limits.

Cath stepped up to the mic and welcomed everyone. She wasn’t quite herself, but no one there knew who she was anyway. She was good at public speaking, and soon the crowd were laughing, and drinking, nibbling cakes, filling in her sponsorship forms, and arguing good-naturedly over the answers to the questions that she read out, slowly and clearly, in her warmest voice.

OLIVIA’S BROTHER WAS
called Empty. Anyway that’s what it sounded like when Olivia said it. Olivia told Davey that Empty would let him use his phone. At home time Davey and Olivia went out of the gate together to meet him. Davey knew they had at least ten minutes, his mum was always late. Olivia didn’t try to push Davey’s chair anymore. She walked next to it, her hand on the arm. Davey liked it when she did that. Empty was tall, with straight brown hair like Olivia’s. He was at big school. He nodded at Davey. ‘All right?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Davey said.

‘Can he use your phone then?’ Olivia asked.

Empty gave Davey his phone. It was small and old-fashioned, like Davey’s dad’s, before he got a new one. Davey knew straight away it didn’t have the internet. On the back were two initials in Tipp-Ex. MT. Not Empty.

‘Do you know the number?’ MT asked, seeing Davey pause.

‘Not exactly. I was thinking I could look it up.’

‘You can’t on that. I’m desperate for a smart phone but I’m not allowed till I stop losing things. But you can call directories and they give you the number you want.’

Davey looked hopefully at MT, and he said, ‘Shall I do it for you?’ He was kind, like Olivia. MT dialled a number and listened. Then he said to Davey, ‘What’s your dad’s name?’

‘Andy Purcell.’

MT repeated this into the phone, and then asked Davey for the address.

‘Harrogate,’ Davey said. It made him feel weird that Harrogate was a strange faraway place now, not the place he lived. Olivia had never even heard of it.

MT said, ‘They need the whole address, you know, like the street.’

‘We lived at number sixty-eight.’

‘Do you know the street name, or the postcode?’

‘Yes, the street was …’ Davey stopped. He couldn’t think. The only street he could remember was Sisley Street, but that was where they lived now. This was stupid. He knew this. He knew his old address. He must do.

Olivia said, ‘What about your grandparents’ number? You said they lived near your dad.’

‘Yes, they live in Harrogate too.’

‘Can you remember their address?’

Davey shook his head. His mind was blank. MT said into the phone that they only knew the number sixty-eight but they didn’t know the street. He listened for a bit, then clicked the phone off. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘If you find out the street I can get you the number.’

‘OK,’ Davey said. ‘Thank you. What does MT stand for?’

‘Milo Terrence, unfortunately,’ MT said. ‘That’s why I’m called MT. I like your trainers.’ He pointed at Davey’s new Air Maxes.

‘I want some,’ Olivia said.

‘Me too. Well, I could look something up for you on the computer at home,’ MT said. He knew Davey didn’t have the internet.

‘Yes please, could you look my dad up?’

‘Is he on Facebook? I don’t really use that but I could do a search on it. What if there’s more than one Andy Purcell though, how will I know which one he is?’

It hadn’t occurred to Davey that there might be more than one. Andy Purcell was his dad, it seemed odd to think there might be others.

‘I know,’ MT went on, ‘I’ll print their pictures and you can tell me which one, OK?’

Davey thanked him.

‘Well, we’d better go,’ MT said, as though he and Davey were two parents chatting together, ‘Olivia’s got swimming.’

Davey’s mum was the last to arrive again. She came running in all puffing. On the way to get Lola, Davey listed his five favourite boys’ names.

1. Adam
   
2. Andy
   
3. Milo
   
4. Barry
   
5. Terrence
   

On the way home Davey asked his mum if he could go to Olivia’s house. ‘What, now?’

‘She’s at swimming now. Tomorrow?’

‘No, I don’t think so, Davey.’

‘Monday, then.’

‘We’ll see. Hey, you two won’t believe the fantastic surprise that’s waiting at home!’

‘What, what?’ Lola said, all happy, but Davey didn’t say anything. Lately, as Adam Purcell pointed out, the surprises had not been that great.

But it was: it was a computer. Davey’s mum had set it up in the living room. Davey and Lola raced over to it, wanting to be the first to turn it on. While they waited for it to load up, Davey tried not to notice how out-of-date it looked. It was probably older than MT’s phone. It had an old-fashioned fat monitor and there was dirt in the keyboard. It wouldn’t matter at all, as long as …

‘Where’s Google?’ he asked. He and Lola turned to their mum.

‘Oh,’ she said, hanging up their coats, ‘it doesn’t have the internet. But the guy that sold it me gave me loads of games, look.’ She handed them a shoebox full of CD games. Lola grabbed the box and tipped it onto the floor. She couldn’t read yet but she recognised the pictures. ‘Sonic the Hedgehog! Mario!’

‘You can have first go,’ Davey told Lola. Adam was right.

NAP WHEN YOUR
baby naps, says every child-rearing book on earth. Yeah, right. Minette, like most new mothers, she suspected, responded to this with a hollow laugh. First off, you never knew how long a baby would sleep for. You might get a solid half hour or longer, but you’d be equally likely to be woken two minutes after you’d sunk into a blissful, precious sleep. For another thing, even the tiredest person on earth would struggle to sleep on command. Quick, the baby’s asleep, drop everything, leap into bed and … lie awake worrying about all the chores you should be doing.