Читать книгу I Have No Secrets - Penny Joelson - Страница 13

8

‘Listen, pet, I’ve got something to tell you,’ Mum says the next evening.

I’m all ears – wondering if it’s to do with Crimewatch. No one’s mentioned it since yesterday and I’ve been waiting for news. Did anyone call the programme? Do the police have any new leads?

Then I wonder if it’s Jodi. Has she written again?

‘You remember I told you about Carlstone College?’ Mum says. ‘I’ve arranged for us to go up there next week.’

My mind whirls – this is so far from what I was thinking about. Carlstone College. When Mum talked about it before, she said I might go there when I’m older – not now. Has she changed her mind?

‘They have a communications expert coming,’ Mum tells me. ‘Professor Spalding. It’s a meeting for any interested families – even those whose children aren’t at the college. I can’t make any promises – but maybe he’ll be able to help you. And we can have a look around too, just to see what it’s like.’

A while ago they showed me this leaflet for Carlstone. Mum said they had amazing facilities and might be able to help me much more than the school I’m at. I liked the sound of the college. I thought I might really enjoy it and they do loads more subjects there. Then Mum told me it’s a three-hour drive from here. I’d have to live there, like at a boarding school.

Mum said if I went there she and Dad would come and visit, and I’d be able to come home some weekends and in the school holidays. I was so relieved the next day when Mum said she thought I was too young, and maybe some time in the future we’d all go and have a look at it. But I thought that meant in a couple of years – not a couple of months.

And what about Sarah? If she came with me it wouldn’t be so bad, but I bet people don’t get to take their own carers. And she wouldn’t want to be three hours away from Dan, would she?

I try to focus on what Mum is saying about the communications expert. Hopefully our visit really is just about seeing this professor. But I can’t stop thinking that it might be something more. The worry is gnawing at my brain, joining the other worries and the questions I can never ask.

I feel myself withdrawing like a tortoise into a shell. Mum’s still talking, but I’m no longer listening.

When Sarah comes to fetch me for dinner she looks at me for a moment and frowns.

‘What’s up, Jem?’

I don’t know how she can tell that something’s wrong, but she can and I’m glad. Maybe my limbs are even stiffer than usual when she moves me. I certainly feel stiffer. Everything aches.

‘I hope you’re not coming down with something,’ she continues.

She looks into my eyes for clues. I wish they could give her some. She feels my brow, inspects my arms, legs and chest for rashes. Then she gets the ear thermometer and takes my temperature. Hopefully once she’s sussed I’m not ill, she’ll work out how unhappy I am.

Sarah wheels me into the kitchen. Everyone else is already at the table, but the cutlery is missing. Finn has removed it and lined it all up neatly on the floor against the wall – a row of forks, then knives, then spoons.

Dad shakes his head at Finn and sighs as he picks them up, and there is a delay while he washes them in the sink. He isn’t angry. He understands Finn.

‘Something’s wrong with Jemma,’ Sarah tells Mum.

I watch Mum’s face. Will she make the connection and realise that what she said before has got me worried?

‘Are you hungry?’ Mum asks me. ‘Sorry dinner’s a bit late.’

I’m not hungry. And now I feel sick at the thought of eating.

Sarah shakes her head. ‘It’s more than that.’

Mum shrugs rather dismissively, and then I wonder if maybe she doesn’t want Sarah to know about her plans, because Sarah will lose her job if I’m sent away.

Once the cutlery is washed and dried, Sarah spoons food into my mouth. I find it hard to swallow. Olivia knocks her cup over – I’m not sure if it is accidental or on purpose, but water spreads in a pool across the table and Dad’s ‘Oh, Olivia’ is enough to start her wailing theatrically. Dad tells her to calm down, which brings on a full-blown tantrum. My head is pounding now.

Mum and Dad are both fussing over Olivia. I scream inside my head sometimes – making the kind of noise she’s making now, but of course no one ever knows.

Sarah aims another spoonful into my mouth. I cough and splutter. I can’t stop coughing. I need a drink. Sarah is distracted, looking at Olivia, and I start to panic. I feel like I can’t breathe. It is a moment before she sits me forward in my wheelchair and pats me on the back. She holds the straw to my lips and looks from me to Mum as Olivia finally stops shrieking. ‘I told you something was wrong. I think she’s going down with something. I’ll sleep in her room tonight.’

No one understands. When I’m worried and I just want reassurance I have no way of getting it. Then my worries just grow and grow. Mum and Dad assume it’s something physical because it so often is, but all I want is to be able to tell them how I feel . . .

‘Thanks, Sarah,’ says Mum. ‘There’s a nasty fluey bug going round. I hope it isn’t that.’

Later, Sarah’s getting me ready for bed when her mobile rings.

‘It’s Dan. We haven’t spoken all week. I’d better answer,’ she says apologetically, ‘or he might think I’m avoiding him.’

She says hello, and then puts the phone on loudspeaker and leaves it on the bed, crouching to take off my socks. I hear Dan’s voice, as clear as if he’s in the room.

‘How was the film, babe?’

Sarah has taken off one of my socks and started on the other one. She stops, bites her lip and leans towards the phone. ‘Great,’ she chirps.

‘Really? What was so great about it?’ he asks.

‘Why do you care?’ Sarah asks. ‘It’s not your kind of film – you said so yourself.’

‘Just asking,’ he says.

There’s a pause. ‘Sorry,’ says Sarah, ‘I can’t chat now. I’m getting Jemma ready for bed. She’s not too well. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it, OK?’

‘Sure – speak later. Love you, babe!’

Sarah puts her phone in her pocket, then laughs. ‘I’ll have to look up some reviews online,’ she tells me. ‘I don’t even know who’s in it!’