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“I can do that. What time do I have to be there?”

“Mr. Page said after school tonight.”

“Then I'll meet you at the gate once I've picked up Vicky, but only if you get up now. Being late isn't going to make things any better. In fact I can guarantee you'll probably get more detentions out of it.”

“OK.”

Amy smiled in relief as Jodie sat up. “See, that wasn't so bad, was it?”

“You haven't met Mr. Page.”

 



 

That afternoon, Jodie led her through the hallway to the English department and knocked on the open office door. “Mr. Page?”

A tall, dark haired, bearded man looked up. “Come in, Jodie.”

Amy looked at Vicky. “Sit here for a minute, sweetie.”

Vicky nodded, sitting down on the chair in the hallway and swinging her legs.

Amy followed Jodie into the office.

“I've come to get my phone back.” Jodie's tone was sullen, and she shoved her hands into her pockets.

Mr. Page studied her. “I've come to get my phone back…what?”

Jodie huffed. “I've come to get my phone back…please.” She paused. “Sir.”

“I can only give it back to a parent, you know that.”

“Dad's always working. This is Amy, our nanny.”

Amy held out a hand. “Amy Stabler. Mr. Philips put me in charge of the girls while he's working. I hope I'll do in place of him.”

“Liam Page, Jodie's English teacher and head of department.” His grip was firm and his hands warm.

“It's nice to meet you. Although you look kind of familiar.”

Jodie sighed. “Mr. Page goes to our church. He sits in the pew behind us with his wife. You'd have seen him on Sundays. Now can I
please
have my phone back?”

Mr. Page frowned at her. “What are the rules governing phones in school?”

She shuffled her feet. “No using them in class. They should be switched off at all times. In case of a parental emergency, they can get hold of us via the school office. Likewise the school office can contact our parents if we get injured or something else happens.”

“So why did you have your phone out in my class?”

Jodie shrugged.

Mr. Page narrowed his eyes. “I won't ask you again, Jodie.”

Amy nudged her. “Answer him.”

“I was sending Fran a text.”

“Fran sits next to you, doesn't she?”

“Yes, she does, but we're not allowed to talk or pass notes in class, and I had to tell her something really important. So I sent her a text instead.”

“Texting isn't allowed any more than talking or passing notes. If it was that important, then you address your comment to the entire class by putting your hand up and asking permission to speak.”

“It wasn't something the whole class needed to know.”

“And it couldn't have waited until the end of the lesson?”

“No, sir, it couldn't have.”

Mr. Page looked at her. “Then you not only got yourself in trouble, but Fran as well. I will be sending a letter to her mother tomorrow morning.”

“But how did you know I was using the phone? It was on silent and you were writing on the board.”

“I wasn't born yesterday,” he told her. “And the glass bookcase next to the board means I effectively do have eyes in the back of my head.”

“Oh.”

Mr. Page unlocked the desk drawer, opened it, and pulled out the phone. “I don't want to see your phone again. If I do, it will be confiscated for a week, not just for twenty-four hours. You'll also get a week of detention and your club privileges revoked for the rest of term. And I will be giving the phone back to your father rather than your nanny, is that understood?”

Jodie snatched the phone, putting it into her pocket. “'K.”

Amy glared at her. “Answer Mr. Page properly.”

“Yes, sir. I understand perfectly,” Jodie muttered.

Amy frowned and hardened her voice. “Answer him properly without the attitude, young lady. Otherwise a week of detention, no clubs, and a confiscated phone will be the least of your worries.”

Jodie looked at her, panic flickering in her eyes. “You can't tell Dad. He'll blow his top if he finds out.”

“I won't need to tell him. You know you're not allowed to leave the house after dark without your phone. You want to explain to your dad why you're staying in every night for a whole week when you're not grounded?”

“No,” she whispered. She slowly looked back at her teacher. “I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again.”

Mr. Page nodded. “Good. Thank you. Jodie, can you wait outside a moment, while I speak to Miss Stabler, please?”

“'K.” She headed outside and shut the door.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Mr. Page.”

“It's Liam. I've been meaning to say hello the past couple of Sundays. It's nice to finally get the chance.”

“I'm just sorry it's like this. Jodie isn't the happiest of children at the best of times.”

Liam nodded. “I'm worried about her, to be honest. Her work has really suffered the past three or four months and her grades are well down on what they were. She was a grade A student, even after her mother died, but now…” He pulled out a file and handed Amy a sheet of paper. “She's struggling to make a D. She hasn't handed in any homework for weeks, either. This is her last piece of creative writing. After I read it, I was going to ask Dane to come in, but as you're here, maybe you could shed some light on it instead. What she's put is disturbing to put it mildly. Not to mention worrying. For someone her age to be so distraught that she thinks the only way out is dying, isn't something you come across every day. I honestly think there is more to it than a simple class writing task.”

Amy read it. “It's not a great surprise,” she said quietly. “Jodie's always drawing pictures that contain gravestones with her initials on them. I'll talk to her.”

“If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. We do have a counselor at the school, and if Dane thinks it's warranted I can refer her.”

“I will.” She stood up and gave him the papers back. “Thank you.” She headed outside to where the girls sat. “OK, let's go home and get tea on for your dad.”

“What did he want?”

“He's worried about your grades and lack of homework.”

“Yeah, well, English is boring.”

“Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil. You need it.”

“I want to be an architect.”

“You still need English. How else are you going to read the plans? Or submit a planning proposal or a patent?”

“Oh.”

Amy nodded slowly. “But, if you'd like, I'll help you with it. Get you back on track.”

“You will?” Jodie looked hopeful.

“However, you have to promise me you'll try. Otherwise, Mr. Page is going to have to talk to your dad.”

“OK. I'll try.”

“Cool. So how much homework is overdue?”

Jodie shrugged and looked around. “About six weeks' worth so six pieces.”

Amy sighed. “So we start tonight and tackle one piece a night. How does that sound?”

Jodie rolled her eyes. “Like a heck of a lot of work.”

Amy winked. “Also might shock Mr. Page. Not to mention it'll give him a whole lot of extra marking to do.”

“Sounds good to me.”

 

 

 

 

10

 

The next morning Amy came home from the school run to find Jodie's coat and bag still in the hall. She sighed and shut the front door and hung up her coat. Then she took the stairs, two at a time, as noisily as she could. So much for the promises Jodie had made the previous day, as they'd completed the first piece of homework which Jodie had planned on handing in that day.

Amy pushed open Jodie's bedroom door, not bothering to knock.

Jodie lay curled up on the bed, sobbing. Huge, heartbreaking sobs that shook her whole body. Her hands gripped her stomach tightly. Maybe she wasn't skiving this time. She was sick.

Amy sat on the bed next to her. “What's wrong, sweetie?”

“Dying…” Jodie choked out between sobs.

Amy gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. “I'm sure you're not. What's wrong?”

“Am.”

“Jodie, talk to me. Something's been wrong for a while and all the gravestones you've drawn tell me it's something huge and really bothering you.”

“I'm dying.”

“Sweetie, you're not dying. But if you're sick, then I can take you to a doctor.”

“No…” Fear flashed in Jodie's face.

“Then tell me what's wrong. Maybe there's something I can do to help.”

“My stomach hurts,” she whispered. “Hurts a lot.” She reached under the bed and handed over a bag full of bloodied clothing. “I can't stop it.”

Amy looked at her, the penny dropping. “Oh, Jodie.” She put the bag down and hugged her tightly. “How long, sweetie?”

“Three months. I'm running out of clothes cos I throw them away, but it doesn't matter.”

“I promise you, you're not dying. This is perfectly normal. It means you're a woman now and not a little girl anymore. I'll show you what to do as I have some stuff in my room. Then, after I've rung the school and told them you won't be in today, we'll make some cocoa and have a woman-to-woman chat. After that, we'll go to the chemist, and I'll get you everything you'll need. I can wash all this, and we'll buy you new things, too. But you're
not
dying.”

Relief sparked in her eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” Amy hugged her.

Ten minutes later, they sat in the kitchen, steaming cups of cocoa and marshmallows in front of them. Comfort food, especially designed for that time of the month.

Horror crossed Jodie's face. “At least five days, every month, for years? Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“Didn't the school have lessons?”

Jodie wrinkled her nose. “Well, only about yucky stuff and boys.”

“And I guess your dad didn't know how to talk to you about this.”

“Dad knows about this stuff? But it doesn't affect him at all.”

“Yeah, he knows. It's just not something men like to talk about. But yeah, all men know about this, especially the married ones.”

“So I'm not dying?”

Amy shook her head. “Nope, you're not dying. Not for a long time yet. So promise me, no more gravestones.”

“I promise.” Jodie tilted her head. “Although, didn't we already have that conversation?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Ack, don't you get cheeky with me, madam. And that was homework, not gravestones.”

“Same thing.” Jodie laughed.

Amy grinned. “And in future, don't hide the clothes under the bed. Just rinse them in cold water and put them straight in the washing machine. I do washing almost every day anyway.” She hugged her. “And if you need the sheets changed, let me know.”

Jodie hugged her back. “Thank you, Amy.”

“You're welcome, sweetie.”

 



 

Each day over the half-term break, Amy took the girls out for at least part of the day. They went swimming, horseback riding, to the park or into town. She'd finally gotten them to try on all their clothes and worked out what fitted and what didn't. What didn't fit was bagged up and put in the clothing bin in the recycling center.

She took the girls shopping, which wasn't the nightmare Dane said it would be. Vicky and Jodie even seemed to enjoy being given virtual free rein over their new clothes. Amy had to overrule a few of Jodie's choices, but on the whole both girls had good taste.

The difference in Jodie was marked. Now she knew she wasn't dying, she turned out to have a wicked sense of humor and would often offer to help do things without being asked. It was just a shame her father was too busy at work to notice.

Friday, the day of the light party, came all too quickly. As Nate and Adeline were at the hospital, Vianne was spending the entire day with Jodie and Vicky. Not that she saw them much, or that one more child really made that much difference to the chaos in the house.

The girls had shut themselves in the study making pictures and decorations for the dining room and the lounge. Music played at full volume from behind the closed door.

Amy had spent the morning assembling and icing the cake, before giving the girls lunch. The afternoon passed rapidly, as she busied herself with the rest of the food preparation for the evening. Dane had put a no trick-or-treating notice on the front door, which he assured her wouldn't result in the house getting egged.

Finally, the girls appeared with an arm full of bunting and pictures. She handed over enough tape and blu-tac to last a lifetime and set them to decorating the rooms as they saw fit, while she laid out the food on the dining table, taking care to make sure it was all covered with foil or cake covers to keep it fresh.

The phone rang. “Jodie, can you answer that, please?”

She looked at the table. She was missing something. But what?

Vicky tugged at her arm and signed to her.

“Of course. The cake. How could I forget?”

Vicky signed slowly enough for her to follow.

Amy mimed shock. “I am not old, you horror.”

Vicky laughed and nodded.

She shook her head, laughing and went back to the kitchen, returning with the fairy castle cake. She placed it on the center of the table.

Vicky's eyes widened as she saw it.

Amy was pleased with how it had turned out. This time she'd added a moat and green coconut fields around it and taken several photos as she built it. The windows were wafer biscuits, coconut ice, and small colored sweets. The turrets were Swiss rolls topped with ice cream cones, the main body of the cake a Madeira sponge. The whole thing was covered in a delicious baby pink butter icing and sugar crystals. No doubt Dane would tut and complain about sugar overload, but it wasn't as if she did this every day of the week.