Читать книгу Every Time a Bell Rings - Carmel Harrington - Страница 15

And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.

Libba Bray

December 1990

I can’t listen to him for one more minute. He’s driving me mad with his constant chatter about the big visit. You’d swear it was the Pope coming. I mean, I know it’s a big deal. He’s not seen his mam for a few weeks now, so of course he’s excited. But come on. Enough already.

And it’s not like we don’t go through this every time she comes. Now that I think about it, she’s been visiting more often recently. I think this could even be her third visit this month. It used to be only once a month at the most.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s alright – for someone who is as mad as a bag of cats, I suppose. And she loves Jim, so that makes her alright in my books. It’s just you don’t know what version of her she’s going to arrive with, when she does call round. It could be the ‘happy normal mammy’ or the ‘crazier than Michael Jackson and his pet monkey’ version.

She’s been okay for a while now, but last month when she brought the crazy with her, well, Jim was in bits for ages afterwards.

We were upstairs on the landing. There’s this big window ledge, which we’ve put cushions on, so it’s like a seat. We often hang out there and watch the world go by. Tess says we’ll take root there one of these days.

Anyhow, there we were, waiting and watching for his mam to arrive. As it happens, we heard her high heels clipping the crazy pavement before we even noticed her arrival, because we were busy monitoring the slow trail of a spider up the wall.

So we look down and Jim is all excited, he’s practically bouncing on the seat, but then his smile disappears. I knew without even looking that it must crazy mam time. I looked down and sure enough there she was doing this ridiculous zig-zag dance all the way up to the front door.

She was clutching a brown paper bag to her chest for dear life and her eyes darted to and fro around the driveway, as if she was expecting something awful to happen.

‘What is she doing?’ I asked, incredulous by the display below. I’d never seen anything quite so bizarre in my life before.

‘She doesn’t like cracked pavement slabs,’ Jim replied. ‘I haven’t seen her do that for a while. I thought she’d gotten over it.’

His whole demeanour changed, gone was all his excitement and instead now his face looked worried and anxious.

My laughter at his mother’s expense disappeared when I saw his face. He went downstairs, shoulders slumped and I followed on behind. She was as white as a ghost by the time she got to the front door and a line of sweat was over her forehead, matting her hair to it.

‘Are you okay?’ Tess asked kindly.

‘I think I managed to avoid them all.’ She answered. ‘But they are everywhere. You need to get them fixed. It’s dangerous. Anything could happen if you were to stumble on a crack.’ She looked back at the driveway, as if she’d just managed to circumnavigate her way through a minefield.

‘What happens if you stand on one of the cracked ones?’ I asked. Tess kicked my ankle hard. ‘Ow,’ I yelped in pain. I thought it was a fair question. I was interested. I mean, it must be something bad if she went to so much trouble to avoid them.

‘Stepping on a cracked pavement slab is unlucky. You could unleash some really bad luck forevermore into your life, with one false step,’ she answered, starting at something on the wall behind my head.

The maddest thing of that whole episode was, that after all the effort of the bunny hop hop to the front door, when she got inside, she stayed all of five minutes, then hopped her way back down the drive again.

Told you, mad as a bag of cats. So as you can imagine, I’ve not got high hopes for this visit, I think crazy mam is due, we’ve not seen her for a few weeks.

And it’s me who has to clean up the mess after she goes. When she left that time, Jim hid in his room for hours, wouldn’t let me in. I wasn’t going to say one smart word about her either. I knew that he was upset and didn’t want to talk about it. I was upset too, upset for him. I wanted to go to him, comfort him, tell him how sorry I was.

‘Leave the lad be. His mam isn’t right yet,’ Tess said, catching me as I was about to break into his room. She tapped her head three times. ‘She suffers terrible with her nerves you know that. It’s an awful affliction.’ She shook her head sorrowfully and heaved her groaning body down the stairs again, with a purple snack in her hand, half-eaten.

I felt like crying for him that day. But I knew that would make him even sadder. So I bit down hard on my lip instead and sat outside Jim’s door on the patterned hall carpet. I was there for so long waiting my bum went numb and I had pins and needles all the way up my two legs. But there was no way I was moving. I had to be there, so that when Jim did come out, he would see me and know that I loved him.

I couldn’t make his mother’s nerves any better, but I could make sure he knew he had a best friend. When he did come out, he looked down at me and said nothing. I didn’t mind, though. I understood, more than anyone, that sometimes there are no words.

He was silent, sullen and I knew the reason why that was his heart was smashed into a hundred million pieces, again.

I didn’t try to make him talk, I just fell into silent step with him, then we walked downstairs. I followed him outside and played football for ages with him and the garden was silent, bar the sound of our ragged breaths, as we ran and ran.

Then Tess shouted for us to come in for our tea. She had gone to a lot of trouble, makings all of Jim’s favourites, to try and make him feel better. And by the time we were in the living room watching TV that night, he started to smile a little bit.

So here we go again, waiting to see which version of his mother turns up today. And to make matters worse, the big eejit has gotten it into his head that this time is the time that she’s come to take him home. Something else we go through every single time. He always thinks the same thing, and each time he ends up disappointed.

Tess told me once that her grandmother suffered from her nerves too. She used to take to her bed for weeks when they were kids. I asked her if she ever got better and she just shook her head sadly. Maybe his mam can change. Maybe she can get better, unlike Tess’s gran.

I just want him to be happy. And I know that if I’m thinking about the last disastrous visit, so is he, no matter how much he prattles on about how this is going to be different.

‘How’d I look?’ he asks, walking into the room. He’s plastered down his hair to one side with half a bottle of gel, by the looks of it, and he looks pure ridiculous. He’s also got on a grand-daddy shirt, in a blue stripe. It looks like a pyjama top. What is he thinking? His Irish jersey looks much better on him.

‘You look stupid,’ I tell him and as my words bounce off him, his face crumples.

Why did I say that? I feel awful. I want to take the words back, stuff them into my mouth again, but it’s too late.

‘Will I wash it out?’ He asks, frantically rubbing his hair with the sleeve of his shirt and I feel like crying, the guilt is so strong.

Tess always says that jealousy is a shocking thing and she’s right. Because I know that I’m being horrid all because I’m jealous. I’ve never ever got to feel the excitement of seeing my mam come to visit. Not that I’d necessarily want her to, I suppose. But even so.

Because despite the fact that Mrs Looney is off her head loopy-loo style, at least she comes to see Jim. At least she makes an effort to stay in touch and there’s no denying she loves him. It’s written all over her face.

I’m not being a very good friend and I know it.

‘No, leave it alone, let me fix it. You don’t really look stupid, I was just joking. You just used too much gel, that’s all.’ I run my hands through his glooped-up hair and restyle his wavy locks into a halfway decent style, using my fingers as combs. He looks like Jim again and I tell him, ‘There, that’s perfect. Your mam will love it, don’t be worrying.’

‘I just want it to go well,’ Jim says for the one hundredth time, pulling at his shirt. He glances at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the hall table. He bought them out of his savings for her. I hope she knows how lucky she is, having him love her like he does.

‘It will go well,’ I assure him, even if I don’t believe a word of it. She’ll more than likely do another crazy dance all the way up the path, just to disappoint her son once more before turning around to go home.

I vow to myself that I’ll be right by his side to pick up the pieces again. I already have two bars of his favourite Tiffin chocolate hidden in my top drawer upstairs, ready to console him.

After the last time, Tess has forbidden us from watching out for her upstairs. So instead she has us all sitting around the kitchen table, listening to Jim tapping his knee with his fingers.

Tess is on her third cigarette and it’s freezing because she has the doors and windows all open to let the smoke out.

I’ve got to find a way to stop her smoking. Not just because she’ll freeze us all out, but because that wheeze in her chest is getting louder all the time.

When the doorbell rings, we all jump and look at each other. Tess stubs out her cigarette and hides the ashtray under the sink. Jim fixes his shirt – again – and I take a deep breath.

I stand side by side to him when Tess opens the door. And we all hold our breath, waiting to see which Mrs Looney will walk through the door.

She looks nervous, but she’s not out of breath. Maybe there was no crazy zig-zagging this time. Without looking at Jim, I can feel the relief seeping from his very core.

I look her up and down, taking in her bright-pink batwing jumper and her tight, white trousers. She’s got on white high-heel shoes and I wish I had a pair like them. She’s had her hair done and it looks glossy and swings onto her shoulders, like one of the models in a l’Oreal advert. Last time she was here, it was streaked with dark roots and she was wearing an awful blue and grey shell tracksuit.

She’s practically unrecognisable.

This version is a new one. She didn’t look like this the last visit.

It’s great that she’s smiling and when she pulls Jim into a big hug, I could burst with happiness for him.

Why is my stomach flipping about and why do I feel so uneasy?

‘You’ve grown so much,’ she says to Jim, her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head. ‘You’re almost a man now, up to my shoulder already.’

‘They’re like weeds, the two of them,’ Tess moans. ‘I’m going to put a block on their heads one of these days. I can’t keep clothes on them,’ she quickly adds, ‘Not that I mind, of course.’

‘Of course,’ his mam replies and they both look awkward.

‘What’s in the bag?’ I ask, changing the subject. I wonder if it’s the same bag that she had the last time she visited. She was clutching it like it was the crown jewels, but we never got to find out what it contained because she didn’t stick around long enough.

Jim’s mam smiles at me and thrusts the brown bag to Jim. ‘It’s for you both.’

We both smile in anticipation and peer into the bag when Jim opens it. Bars, in bright wrappers, purples, pinks, yellows all gleam up to us, accompanied by the most wonderful sweet smell of cocoa.

‘I didn’t know what your favourites are, so I bought a few of everything,’ she tells us.

‘Jim loves Tiffin.’ I say, feeling superior. I know him better than you, I wanted to say. But I don’t.

‘Belle loves caramel bars,’ Jim says.

‘Oh, I don’t think I bought any Tiffin.’ She looks upset about that.

‘It’s okay. I love Star Bars too,’ Jim says and pulls one out, ready to pull the wrapper off.

‘I’ll take them,’ Tess says, swooping in and confiscating them. ‘I am very careful with their diet. Just one bar each as a treat at the weekend. I’m all about their five a day. Healthy eating and all that.’

Jim and I snigger under our breath. Yeah, right. Five bars of chocolate a day, she means.

Tess does this all the time whenever the social workers come by. Pretends to be super-perfect or something. And the thing is, she is perfect. She doesn’t need to pretend.

She tells his mam that she’ll hand them out over the next few weeks, one bar a day, but Jim and I know that’s rubbish.

‘Let’s leave Jim and his mam be,’ Tess says, giving me a dirty look. She knows we’re teasing her. She ushers me up the stairs to my bedroom. ‘You go on into the living room, Mrs Looney. I’ll send in some tea.’

‘You’d swear she had servants, the way she’s speaking,’ I whisper to Jim. ‘Good luck. She looks well, it’s a good sign.’ I squeeze his hand quickly before I run upstairs.

Did I mean that? I’m not sure. I know that I want Jim to be happy, but I’m scared of what his happiness might mean for me. It’s all so complicated. His mam looks much better than the last time and that has to be a good thing, right?

Then there’s that nasty voice in my head again.

When he asks her to take him home today, she might say yes, then what will you do?

I’ll be on my own again.

I swallow back a lump of putrid, acidy sick that has burned its way up my throat. I don’t want him to go. I feel ashamed again that I am being so selfish, putting my own needs ahead of his. He’s my best friend. I should be on his side. End of. Jim has been talking about going home ever since that first day he arrived here. He loves her, crazy bits and all.

I quickly cross my fingers that she’s well again and vow that I will be a better person if Jim gets his wish. I’ll not say a word, I’ll not cry. I’ll just hug him and tell him I’m so happy. And I’ll be okay, if he goes, because I have Tess.

I glance at Dee-Dee sitting on the end of my bed amongst an array of stuffed toys. I haven’t played with her in a long time. She doesn’t talk to me any more, but then again, I don’t really talk to her. I pick her up and hug her, but I don’t feel any comfort the way I used to.

Now that I’ve had a real best friend, I don’t want a doll.

I perch my bum on our windowsill and flick my way through a battered 1983 Bunty annual. It’s years out of date, but even so, I still like reading it. I envy Bunty’s life and sometimes pretend that I’m her.

I’m living in a big house, blonde, pretty, rosy-cheeked and I’m living a normal, carefree life, with my mam, dad and little brother.

I forget about Jim and his mam for a while, as I get immersed into Bunty’s latest escapade on a snowy mountain side.

I’m not sure I could pull off the cute ski gear she’s donning, though. I’m so tall, my legs seem to be too long for everything. Tess goes mad every time I go up a size, she says that it’s impossible to find a new pair of jeans for me that fit, so she has to get out her sewing kit to make some alterations.

A door slams and I look down. Jim’s mam is leaving already. That flew by. She’s got her arm around him as he walks her to the gate. She actually walks straight through the cracked pavement slabs. Another good sign.

I watch them hug for ages and feel weird watching them, like I’m snooping. But I can’t take my eyes off them all the same. It’s a lovely moment and I’m envious again. He’s got one of his goofy smiles plastered over his face and that makes me happy at least.

Relief floods me as I realise that I’m happy to see him smile. Maybe I’m not such a bad person after all. I run downstairs two stairs at a time. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

‘Well, Jimbo, did she like your hair?’ I ask.

And before he says anything back to me, I know. His face looks different. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him in the past two years. I mean, we’ve laughed a lot. Once we snorted so much that I even peed my pants.

‘She’s taking you home,’ I say.

He looks at me for the longest time. Then he nods. I make a tremendous effort to put a smile on my face, to make him believe that I’m happy for him. It must be working, I must be fooling him, because his goofy grin is back again.

‘She’s rented a two-bed flat in Ranelagh and the landlord has said that I can decorate my bedroom any colour I want.’

Green. He’ll pick green, because that’s his favourite colour.

I hear Tess sigh and the click of her lighter as she ignites another cigarette.

I’m losing him. Tess knows it. Jim just doesn’t know it yet.

‘How long do we have left?’ I ask. I’m surprised that my voice sounds okay, considering the fact that I want to cry.

‘You make it sound so dramatic, Belle,’ Jim laughs at me. ‘I’m just going to live somewhere else, that’s all. Nothing else is going to change. We’ll be best friends forever, you’ll see.’