Break The Child: Chapter Thirty-six: Is he here yet?

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

I had a bad night. I woke up three times and was sick. The first two times my dad was with me and he held my hair up and rubbed my back and, while I was being sick, I could hear him balking and I just wanted my mum—my old mum. When I stopped being sick Dad ran to the toilet. Mum would have coped better.

 

I kept asking about Mum and he kept telling me not to worry about anything. He made me mad because I had all this stuff to make me woozy and talking was really difficult, but because he wouldn’t tell me anything he just made me ask again and that made me sicker.

 

Eventually he told me that Mum was going to be just fine. Mum had banged her head too, and they were keeping her in. Dad laughed and said that she was leading them a right merry dance and that they were having a bad night with her. I laughed too, but it wasn’t funny and even pretend laughing hurt a lot.

 

The third time I woke up I was really sick, and Dad wasn’t there. I was sick down the side of my bed and all over my blanket and I was crying. A nurse came running in. I was so sick that my insides hurt, and the nurse was better at looking after me than Dad. I asked her about Mum, and she told me that Mum was restless and was keeping all of the other patients awake. So, she’d been moved to a different part of the hospital with other people with her condition. Dad had gone with her to settle her in.

 

I didn’t know if they were all lying to me and my Mum was really dead. I started to cry, and the nurse put her arms around me. She was so nice. I might be a nurse too, one day.

 

She told me that Mum isn’t dead and that’s it’s a wonder I hadn’t heard her yelling from halfway across the hospital. That was a joke and it made me smile but I was still crying at the same time.

 

‘Hey, if I tell you something, promise not to say that I said anything?’

 

‘Promise.’

 

‘Well—I think you need something good to look forward to so, I can’t tell you the details I’ll leave that for your dad, but let’s just say that I think your Mum might have a surprise for you tomorrow.’

 

I gave a scream, ‘You mean she’s had the baby?’

 

‘Not yet,’ she winked, ‘Shush now. I’ve already said too much, my lips are sealed.’ She made a zip across her mouth and I did one too. She gave me some medicine to stop me being sick and then she tucked me in and told me to get some sleep. Before she left, she kissed me on the top of my head and that made me cry again. I miss my Mum so much.

 

I didn’t wake up again until a nurse came in with my breakfast. She was really loud, and I didn’t want to wake up.

 

‘Wakey, wakey, rise and shine. Come on missy, up you get, I’ve got your breakfast here.’

 

I sat up and she jumped backwards pretending to be scared of me, ‘Goodness me, I dread to think what the other person looks like.’

 

I wanted to tell her that the other person’s beautiful. But I didn’t say anything because I was ashamed that my Mum did this to me and I didn’t want to have to go into explanations about the dementia. Maybe she already knew.

 

I didn’t feel sick anymore and I was starving. But my body had all stiffened up through the night and I was sore all over. Every bit of me hurt, even the bits that Mum didn’t punch. I had some cornflakes and orange juice and I had a bun that I got to butter myself with one of those individual packets and I had a little tub of strawberry jam. It felt sort of special, not like digging in the butter dish at home. After breakfast, a lady came round with a drinks trolley and she let me choose. I had a cup of hot chocolate and it was delicious.

 

Dad came in a bit later while I was reading a Swallows and Amazons book that one of the nurses brought me, I’m glad Dad came because the book was proper boring. He had a hurt look when he saw the state of my face. I haven’t seen it since it happened, but I can feel how big it is, so I’m guessing it looks worse this morning.

 

He had a big white teddy for me and a bottle of Lucozade Sport and a box of Heroes. ‘For my hero,’ he said giving them to me and kissing my cheek. That was so corny.

 

‘How’s Mum,’ I asked. ‘Did you tell her? Did you tell her that I’m all right and not to be sad about what she did?’ I didn’t want her worrying about it. But that was silly because she won’t remember anyway, but just in case she did and just because beating your daughter up is something that you might remember, even if you forget to go to the toilet sometimes. I wanted her to know that I don’t blame her.

 

I know that even if she did mean it at that minute, she didn’t mean it really.

 

‘Dad what’s a pen skirt?’

 

He thought about that for a minute, ‘Do you mean a pencil skirt?’

 

‘Yes, that’s it, a pencil skirt. What is one?’

 

‘Well it’s a type of skirt that was fashionable in the eighties, that’s the nineteen eighties to you and before that in the sixties.’ He winked. ‘They were long, calf length and so tight that women couldn’t move their legs to walk properly and they had to take little shuffling steps. Sometimes they had big splits up the back or the sides so that they could move better and show off their stocking tops.’ His face went all dreamy. ‘And they make legs look great and bottoms look sexy.’

 

‘Dad,’ I said, shocked.

 

‘What? I liked pencil skirts. In the seventies they got it all wrong, big, clumpy platforms and polyester blouses with big flowers, but the eighties, oh my, those skirts. I’m looking forward to them coming back in fashion again.’ I punched him on the arm.

 

‘I remember once, we’d been to a party and when we came out, your Mum decided to leapfrog over a bollard. But the thing is, see, she’d forgotten how tight her skirt was. So over she went, and she got the material stuck on the post and she fell flat on her face and ended up looking something like you do now.’ He came back from the past and we were both quiet as we thought about Mum.

 

I wanted to ask about the baby, but I’d promise the nurse, that I wouldn’t say anything. I was bursting to know when Andy was coming because they weren’t due to do the caesarean for another five days.

 

Is Andy really all right, Dad? He must have had a fright in Mum’s tummy with all that going on.’

 

Dad beamed. ‘He’s absolutely fine, in fact, I’ve got some news that might just put a smile on that bruised face of yours.’

 

‘What? What? Have we got him? Is he here? Where is he? I’ve got to see him.’

 

Hang on, slow down, he’s not here yet. But—because of what’s happened, the doctors have decided to bring the caesarean forward and they’re going to deliver him later on today. How do you feel about that?’

 

My scream was so high pitched and so excited that two nurses ran into the room. ‘My brother’s coming. My brother’s coming,’ I told them, bouncing on the bed.

 

‘Well, Mary mother of Jesus, child, I thought you were for having some kind of fit in here, so I did’ said the Irish one.

 

‘Danny sends his love,’ said dad when the nurses had left. I put my hand up to my swollen face. I didn’t want him to see me like this because I was ugly, but I kind of did want him to see it, too, because I’ve never been hurt like this before. Dad was still talking.

 ‘He wanted to bunk off school and come this morning, but I told him that, under no circumstances was he allowed to do it. They’re letting you out today, so he’ll come and see you later.

 

‘But I won’t be there. I’ll be here cuddling Andy.’

 

‘Well I’m sure you’ll sort something out between you.’

 

We carried on chatting until a doctor came in. He had two ladies with him, but they stayed by the door while the doctor came over to the bed.

 

‘Good morning, Katie. You look better than you did last time I saw you. I’m Doctor Khan. I was here yesterday when you came in. Do you remember me?’

 

I didn’t remember coming into the hospital at all. I shook my head. He put a thermometer under my armpit and picked up my wrist. ‘Well young lady, you’ll be pleased to know that we’ve had a look at the pictures of your head. You have a fracture, but we’re confident that it’ll knit together in time. So, if you promise to take things easy for the next few days, I’m happy to let you go home.’

 

‘Oh, thank you doctor. That would have been great this morning, but, you see, I don’t want to go home.’

 

I saw one of the ladies by the door take out a pad and write something down. She looked worried.

 

‘Don’t be daft, Kate. Take no notice, Doctor of course she wants to come home,’ Dad looked uncomfortable.

 

‘Why’s that, Katie,’ the doctor said.

 

‘My baby brother’s being born this afternoon and he won’t be allowed to come home for at least five days, and that’s ages. I want to stay here so that I can feed him and bath him.’

 

‘I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Katie, because we need the bed for another sick little girl. But I’m sure your dad will bring you in every day to see him.’ He talked to me as though I was three; I’m fourteen. I’ve got a boyfriend and everything.

‘No, you don’t understand, my mother has dementia, and when she wakes up with all stitches in her tummy, she’s going to be frightened and confused. And she won’t know what’s happening to her—and she needs be to be here. And I need to look after Andy and keep him safe.

My dad was crying and the doctor looked at the two ladies, and one of them was still writing everything down.

‘Now then,’ the doctor patted my hand and was very condensation—but he was trying to be nice—I get that. ‘You mustn’t worry about anything like that. Your job is to get you better. Our job is to look after your mum and the baby, and your dad will be with her. These ladies are Miss Williams, who is with the police, and Mrs Denton, who is from Social Services. It’s nothing to worry about Katie, so don’t look so scared. You aren’t in any trouble. They just want to have a little talk to you. Is that okay?’

 

I nodded and the women came forward dragging chairs across the floor. They both smiled, but I didn’t trust them.

 

‘I’m Janet Denton, Katie and I’m from Social Services. We just want to have a chat about what happened yesterday. We need to get it clear in our heads so that we can write a little report, and then, that’ll be an end to it.’

She smiled, but I think she wanted to write bad things about Mum.