Читать книгу Every Time a Bell Rings - Carmel Harrington - Страница 10

Isn’t it funny that at Christmas something in you gets so lonely for — I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something that you don’t mind so much not having at other times.

Kate L. Bosher

December 1988

‘She’s not said a word. It’s not normal. Maybe it’s time you had her tested. You know, to see if there’s anything wrong with her.’ Mrs Gately, my about-to-be ex-foster carer, sniffs as she taps the side of her head.

‘She’s done this before. Stopped talking, I mean,’ Mrs O’Reilly replies, and sniffs in solidarity.

Mrs O’Reilly is my social worker, for as long as I can remember. She doesn’t look happy with me right now, either. I don’t want to make her cross. I never mean to upset anyone, but it keeps happening all the same. I made my mother angry a lot.

I hold my doll Dee-Dee close to me and stroke her black hair, trying to block out memories of my mother.

‘Have a good Christmas, Belle,’ Mrs Gately says loudly as she moves towards me. She almost hugs me, then seems to change her mind at the last minute. She ends up just patting my head instead.

I think I got off lightly because she smells weird. She wears this perfume that makes my nose itch and sneeze. I can see she’s delighted to see the back of me. I heard her telling her husband earlier that no money was worth it. Even though I’m only eight, I’ve worked out that it must be me.

‘Put your seat belt on, Belle,’ Mrs O’Reilly snaps over her shoulder. She’s definitely cross with me too. But then her face softens a little as she looks at me in the rear-view mirror. Her voice goes all high and strained as she tells me, ‘You’ll like this house, you wait and see. Tess is a good woman and this time it’s a permanent placement. That will be good, won’t it? Settling into a new home and unpacking your things.’

I look down at the small backpack that lies at my feet, which holds everything I own.

‘Belle,’ she snaps again and I realise she’s waiting for me to say something in return.

I nod and attempt a smile, even though I don’t feel much like it.

It seems to satisfy her, because she stops staring at me in the rear-view mirror and returns her eyes to the road in front of us.

What do you think Dee-Dee? Will this home be a forever one? Dee-Dee always tells me the truth. I think she’s the only person in the whole world who does.

She looks at me with her big brown eyes and says, ‘Well, Joan and Daniel’s house was supposed to be a forever home too.’

True, in fact Mrs O’Reilly has said that very same line to me loads of times now.

As always, whenever I think of Joan and Daniel, I feel scared all over again. All I want to do is go back to Dun Laoghaire, back to that house I’ve lived in for the past few years. Problem is, Joan and Daniel are not there any more. The house is for sale and locked up. My old foster parents are now somewhere called the Silicone Valley. I don’t know where that is, but I know it must be far away, because they had to go on an aeroplane to get there.

Why did they have to leave me behind, Dee-Dee? My stomach starts to flip.

Dee-Dee looks at me with her big sad eyes and I know what she’s thinking.

Everyone leaves. In the end, they all leave me behind.

‘It’s just you and me, kiddo, stick with me and we’ll be fine,’ Dee-Dee says.

I kiss her forehead and nod. Yes, we’ll be just fine.

Mrs Reilly starts to chatter on about how much fun I’m going to have in this new house in Drumcondra. It will be a new adventure, she keeps saying. And even though I don’t need to go on an aeroplane to get to this new place, I know it’s a long way away from everything I know.

‘Tess, your new foster mum, has been fostering for over thirty years. She has a room ready for you. All to yourself, too. Won’t that be nice? And you can walk to your new school every day, just like you did at Joan and Daniel’s.’ She smiles in the rear-view mirror.

I look at her eyes. The smile doesn’t reach them. Whenever people smile at me, I check out to see if the eyes crinkle up at the corners. I know it’s a real smile if that happens. I’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who fake-smile all the time. Mrs Reilly is a prime example.

The car stops and starts in splutters as she hits the usual rush-hour traffic. I feel a little bit sick, so I decide I’d better close my eyes in an attempt to stop the nausea.

‘It’s almost the Christmas holidays, so we all agree that it’s best you start your new school in January. That gives you a few weeks to settle in. New Year, new beginning. I think that’s best all round. Isn’t that exciting? You’ll love it there, trust me, you wait and see,’ she states in that high, strangled voice of hers.

Thing is, I don’t trust her. I’m only eight years old, but I already know that it’s safer if you don’t trust anyone. People lie all the time.

Dee-Dee nods in total agreement.

‘The traffic is heavy this evening,’ Mrs Reilly complains, looking at her watch.

I wipe the condensation from the car window and peek outside. We’re not moving, we’ve stopped at another red light. I know that it has to change to green to move. I learnt that in school. I can’t remember what amber means, that one always confuses me. Is it prepare to go or prepare to stop?

Oh, here we go again. We move forward a little bit, but just as quickly we’re at a standstill again.

As my stomach heaves, Dee-Dee says, ‘You better not get sick in Mrs Reilly’s car.’ I feel a little bit of vomit jump into my throat and my stomach flips again. Mrs Reilly will get so cross if I get sick. She might change her mind and not take us to this new house. And then where will we go?

I try to think of something else, anything, to take my mind off the possibility of being sick.

A red car inches up beside us and to distract myself, I count the people in it. One, two, three, four. Easy. I’m good at counting. I can count to one thousand and twenty-nine. I’m sure I could have passed two thousand, but I got distracted and lost my spot. Maybe I’ll try beat my record now.

A little girl stares at me through her car window and waves. I wave back and look at her family properly. At least, I think they must be a family. The daddy is driving the car and the mammy is beside him, but she’s looking back at her two children, a boy and a girl. And whatever the mammy is saying to them, they are all laughing.

I look at the mammy’s face. It’s soft and joyful and happy.

Why are you so stupid? Get out of my fucking way, you little brat.

Tears spring into my eyes as a memory pierces through my thoughts. I feel a pain in my side. It hurts like a stitch when I run too fast in the park. I blow on the window to make it steamy again, so that I can erase that happy, smiling family away.

I don’t feel much like counting any more.

‘Don’t cry,’ Dee-Dee tells me when she sees that I’m getting upset. ‘The grown-ups get cross when you cry.’

I sigh, pinch myself and look back down again, stroking Dee-Dee’s hair.

‘What are you getting from Santa this year?’ Mrs Reilly asks me, making me jump.

I shrug. Who cares? I mean, Santa won’t even know where I live. For the past two years he came to Joan and Daniel’s. And before that, well, I don’t think he came at all.

‘Santa is magic, he’ll find you,’ Dee-Dee reassures me. ‘Remember that.’ I kiss her head. She always knows what to say to me to make me feel better.

‘Now, let’s try to find a parking spot,’ Mrs Reilly says. We’re on a street with red-bricked houses on either side. It’s almost dark and the big trees are making shadows on the path. Some windows are already filled with Christmas trees, and fairy lights twinkle on the driveways.

‘Look, Belle, see that lovely red door? That’s your new house.’ Mrs Reilly points to the other side of the road.

There’s no Christmas tree in the window.

The house in front of us, well, it looks dark and menacing and I don’t think I’m going to like it here.

‘Remember you’re not to cry,’ Dee-Dee warns again, as we walk up the drive towards the door. When Mrs Reilly rings the doorbell, I hold my breath and Dee-Dee even tighter, as I watch a shadow coming towards the door, through the opaque glass panels.

‘You’re shivering,’ Mrs Reilly says, pulling me in close to her. ‘You’ll be inside soon, nice and warm.’

The door opens and I gasp and take a step backwards. Standing right in front of us is the big bad wolf dressed in a really bright-yellow dress.

The wolf looks like she’s ready to eat me.

‘She’s fat,’ Dee-Dee says.

That’s not nice, I admonish her. She always says it like it is. Thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that size before.

‘She’s probably so fat because of all the children she eats,’ Dee-Dee continues.

That’s not helpful, Dee-Dee, and I look back towards Mrs Reilly’s car and wonder if I should make a run for it now.

But before I get the chance to make my getaway, the wolf smiles at me and I can see that she doesn’t have any fangs at all. Just slightly yellow teeth. And even Dee-Dee has to agree that she looks happy to see me as she ushers me in, telling me she has lots of treats waiting.

‘This could be okay,’ Dee-Dee says agreeably. We both like treats.

I sit down at a long rectangular kitchen table, which is covered in a bright-orange and red-patterned oil-skin tablecloth. The lady, Tess, has placed a glass of milk and some Penguin bars in front of me.

‘Tuck into these, pet,’ she says, smiling her big yellow teeth at me. But she doesn’t look so scary any more. And I quite like her yellow dress. It’s pretty. Then she disappears into the hall with Mrs Reilly to whisper about me.

‘Listen up,’ Dee-Dee tells me. ‘See what they have to say.’

‘She’s still not talking. It’s been weeks now since she uttered a word,’ Mrs Reilly sighs. ‘I’m at my wits ends with it all.’

‘Sure, is that any wonder? The poor thing must be scared out of her mind. How many times has she been shoved around from pillar to post?’ Tess asks. ‘She’ll talk when she’s good and ready, not a moment before.’

Mrs Reilly doesn’t answer her question, but I could. I’ve been to four foster homes since I left my mother’s. But I’m only eight and don’t really remember everything so good yet. So I suppose it could actually be more than that. And I’ve learned already that grown-ups don’t really like to talk to me about my past. If I mention my mother, they start to get real jittery.

‘I’ve tried everything. I’m on my last nerve trying to make her speak.’ Mrs Reilly moans. ‘I hope you’ve got the patience of a saint, Tess. You’ll need it.’

‘You know, you can chase a butterfly all over the fields and you’ll never catch it. But if you just sit still, he might just come over and sit on your shoulder,’ Tess says.

I don’t understand what that means. I look at Dee-Dee and she tells me she doesn’t know either. But she likes her, and I trust her opinion.

‘There was some bullying in her last school, so maybe it’s as well she’s moved from there,’ Mrs Reilly says. ‘Racial slurs, that kind of thing.’

I don’t know exactly what ‘racial slurs’ mean. But I have a fair idea. Children were mean to me, on and off, calling me names. They kept saying I should go back home to Africa and other such things.

Both Dee-Dee and me always get confused by those remarks, because I’ve never been to Africa before. I’ve never left Ireland. Dublin is my home. So technically I am home already. It’s just so complicated.

‘Oh, God love her. That’s awful,’ Tess replies. ‘You’d think in this day and age we’d be a bit more tolerant. It’s 1988, for goodness sake.’

‘She still sticks out, though. Not that many black kids in our schools yet over here. Maybe in the UK …’ Mrs Reilly says.

Black. There they go again, Dee-Dee. Always going on about me being black.

‘Oh and she has nightmares too. She won’t say what they are about, but don’t be surprised if you hear her screaming in the night,’ Mrs Reilly continues.

My stomach flips again and I start to worry that Tess will tell Mrs Reilly to take me away. She’s not saying very nice things about me.

I can’t hear what they say next, because they start to whisper really low. But after a moment or two, Mrs Reilly sticks her head into the door of the kitchen, fake smile on again.

‘I’ll be back next week to check in on you, Belle.’ And then, like that, she’s gone.

‘We can’t wait,’ Dee-Dee says, ‘we miss you already, Mrs Reilly.’

I giggle, Dee-Dee is so funny.

‘So this Dee-Dee, is she your favourite doll?’ Tess asks, making me jump when she walks back into the room. She walks over to me and picks her up. ‘Isn’t she a beauty? What a lovely dress she’s wearing too. Mrs Reilly told me all about her, that you don’t like to go anywhere without Dee-Dee.’

I nod and I’m happy that she knows the lie of the land.

‘Would you and Dee-Dee like to see your bedroom?’ Tess asks and without waiting for me to answer, she beckons me to follow her as she huffs and puffs her way upstairs.

A white wooden door opens to a small room with a single bed in it. It has a pink duvet cover on it and lots of little pink and purple cushions piled up high over the pillows. A pine bedside locker has a pink lampshade on it and Tess shows me how to switch it on and off.

I really like the walls. They have little pink roses on them with green leaves and there’s a wardrobe in the corner that looks a bit like the one from The Chronicles of Narnia.

Tess opens the double doors, but there’s no fur coats in there. Instead there are a couple of outfits hanging up and a row of shelves, with items folded neatly on them.

‘I popped into town earlier and went into Penny’s to get a few bits for you. Underwear, socks, pyjamas, a few tops and a pair of jeans. But we’ll get some more things when we work out what you need.’ Tess tells me. ‘I never know what a child will have until they walk through the door. And I think I’ve got your size all wrong. Look at those lovely long legs you have. I might have to get a bigger size in the jeans.’

I peek at her, expecting to see irritation on her face, but she doesn’t look upset at all by the length of my legs. She’s smiling as she pulls out a dressing gown and a plastic pack with a pair of brand-new pyjamas in it. They are fluffy pink ones with big red hearts on them. I decide I like them a lot.

‘I’m pretty sure these are your size, though. Would you like to get all comfy and put them on?’ Tess asks me. ‘I like to do that of an evening. You know, when there’s nobody due to visit, nothing nicer than to get cosy in a pair of pyjamas. Then we can put on the TV and have our tea on our laps. As a special treat to celebrate you arriving here.’ She smiles at me expectantly.

I blink twice and nod, feeling overwhelmed. She’s being so kind and I don’t know how to respond. I want to cry, but I know without Dee-Dee telling me that I shouldn’t do that. Don’t frighten Tess, she seems really nice. But I can’t find any words to say either. They’re all stuck in my throat.

‘Come here,’ Tess says and leads me to the bed. She pats the spot beside her so I sit down on the edge.

‘I know you’re scared, Belle. Good Lord, I would be too, if I was in your shoes. But I promise that if you give me a chance we can be happy here. You’ll be safe in this house, I give you my word on that and we might even have some fun together, you wait and see.’ She looks at me and smiles and I am overjoyed. Her smile reaches all the way up to the crinkles in the corners of her sockets. I’ve not seen one of those in a long, long time.

‘I like her,’ Dee-Dee whispers to me.

Me too.