Chapter 15
15
2001
Yesterday Mrs Warham’s calendar said Friday the fifth of October, so today must be Saturday the sixth. One good thing about Mum’s job is that she doesn’t have to work on the weekend. Her boss isn’t quite as yukky as she first thought. Apparently Ryan lost a sister a few years ago, so he knows how Mum feels. It’s funny how adults say people get lost when they die because we know that they’ve gone to heaven.
Mum’s eyes are still red most mornings and she sleeps a lot. It’s nearly lunchtime and Mum hasn’t got up. I made myself cornflakes and orange juice for breakfast. I took some up to her. She didn’t open her eyes and told me to watch telly. She was just feeling tired. She’d be down later.
Yesterday Alice cornered me in the playground and wanted to know about Uncle Kevin’s funeral. Her brother said it won’t be for ages because all the bodies are in pieces and no one knows who is who. She wants to know if he’ll be burnt or buried. Her brother said Uncle Kevin would just be dust now, mixed up with everybody else.
Thank you, Mrs Warham, for walking past and sending Alice to the headmistress.
I stand in the garden and breathe in grassy smells. Mr Jones next door is very neat and has mowed his lawn, even though the summer is over. That’s what I’m going to be like when I’m older. The sun is doing its best to cheer things up, but angry-looking clouds keep covering its smile. I wear my fleece. Zips are fiddly and I’m glad it pulls over my head. It’s purple like my glasses, like my name and like Ribena, my favourite drink.
Our fence is broken, which feels like an invitation to sneak into Applegrove Wood. I haven’t done that yet because Mum says I mustn’t enter alone. But dog walkers pass through it, so it can’t be dangerous. I look back at the house. Mum’s curtains are still drawn. It won’t hurt to have just a little run around. I wish I had a friend to play with at weekends. I’ve tried hard to find one at after-school club but it’s noisy and everyone already knows everyone else. Mia, whose mum gave me chocolate, is nice. We’ve done jigsaws together and she stuck her tongue out at a boy who made fun of my glasses. But Mia is very popular and there aren’t many children on my street apart from a two-year-old who is always crying and a teenager who scowled at me for no reason.
I hope to miss out the teenage years. Teenagers always listen to music. Maybe, to them, it sounds better than real life. Lately, I understand that.
I walk up to the fence and squash myself between the two broken slats. Seconds later I’m on the other side, under the shade of a tree. I love conker trees. Their leaves are boring, but their prickly green cases contain the shiniest, smoothest jewels. I pick one up and squeeze the hard green shell, being careful not to scratch my hands.
‘Do you want me to show you how to easily open that?’ says a voice.
I look up. A boy stands next to me. His hair is the same brown colour as Uncle Kevin’s, but it’s tied back in a ponytail. He’s wearing a jumper that looks as if it’s been knitted by a gran. His trainers are really dirty. I like his smile. And, unlike Alice, he sounds kind.
‘Put it on the floor and stand on it really gently,’ he says. ‘Squish your foot from side to side and it should burst open without breaking the conker inside.’
I do as he says and then bend down and prise open the cracked case. There are two small conkers inside, like twins in a mummy’s tummy, but not identical. One is bigger than the other.
‘One each. My name’s Violet,’ I say, feeling my face heat up.
‘I’m Flint. Want to play catch?’ He tags me on the shoulder and starts running. I put the conkers in my fleece pocket and follow as fast as my legs will allow me, darting around tree trunks and jumping over piles of twigs. He trips over and I catch up.
‘You okay?’ I say, in between breaths.
With grazed knees, he stands up and laughs. ‘You got lucky. I fell over some roots.’ Flint’s still wearing summer shorts.
‘Are you allowed to play out here often?’
‘Mum lets me and my brothers and sisters do what we want. We don’t even go to school. She teaches us at home.’
I gasp. ‘Now you’re the lucky one.’
‘We also get to wear what we want. And choose our own food. I had biscuits for breakfast.’
Sounds like he is lying, doesn’t it? But I believe him. Mum lets me stay up later than usual right now. She switches the telly on. We eat in front of it. I get to watch programmes I’m not usually allowed to. One was called… what was it? No Rules Kids – about parents who let their children do whatever they want. Like Flint. They can make their own meals. Choose when they want to go to bed. It sounds great. I’d never have to see Alice again. Or eat carrots. I could stay up until midnight.
‘My turn to catch you,’ says Flint.
I break into a run. Piles of leaves squelch under my feet and mud flicks up against my legs. I couldn’t find a pair of trousers to wear. Mum hasn’t done the washing all week. That’s why I’m in a summer skirt with ankle socks, but it doesn’t matter. I’m nice and warm in my fleece. We come to a really big trunk with a treehouse in the branches. Its roof has a hole in it and a grey squirrel stands next to it. Its tail twitches. The house’s wooden sides are a bit lopsided and covered in moss and bird poo. There’s a ladder going up to it. Me and Flint look at each other. He starts to climb. I follow.
We sit inside on the floor. Perhaps this place can be our secret. Mine and Flint’s.
‘Awesome,’ he says. ‘My brothers and sisters will never find me here.’
‘Are you hiding from them? I’d love to be part of a big family.’
‘Be careful what you wish for, my granny always says. My brothers are cool. My two sisters can be annoying. I guess they are all okay but sometimes it gets too noisy. I haven’t got my own room so there is nowhere to go and just read. I love books.’
‘Me too. Maybe… maybe we could both read here. I’m reading Fantastic Mr Fox at the moment.’
‘That’s an awesome story. The farmers are so mean.’
We talk about clever Mr Fox and I tell Flint about Charlotte’s Web . He says he likes spiders and will ask his mum to get the book from the library.
I shiver. The sun has disappeared and the woods are chocolate-cake dark. I tell Flint that perhaps I should head home. Mum might be up.
We run to the bottom of my garden. My chest relaxes as I see that Mum’s curtains are still closed.
Flint waves and I push my way through the fence. Humming, I reach into my fleece pocket and hold on to the two conkers as I go inside.