Proud of me, p.13
Proud of Me, page 13
My mind is whirring. Neil could have been my dad? Seriously? I try to square this story with everything I’ve been told before, but just thinking about it makes my head hurt.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” says Auntie Jackie. “It was a long time ago, and who knows if it would have worked anyway. It was another three years until either of them managed to get pregnant, even at the clinic.”
“But I felt I’d let them down,” sighs Neil. “I had let them down, this was their dream. I’d agreed to help and then I broke their trust.”
“But you worked through it,” interrupts Auntie Jackie. “And now it’s all worked out for the best, hasn’t it? They got their family. You got yours. And you did stay friends after all.”
Neil sighs. “You’re right. Goes to show, even when you think something’s broken beyond repair, there’s still hope, there’s still a way to fix it if you try hard enough. It just takes time. Listen to me going on… Birthdays make you think about this sort of thing, don’t they?”
“I suppose so,” says Auntie Jackie. “But they also make you think about how much work there is to do to get a party ready – and we’re just standing round chatting! Haven’t you finished that tea yet?”
I step away from the doorway quickly and back into the living room, and the voices fade to a murmur again.
This might be ancient history to Auntie Jackie, but it does still matter now, however long ago it happened, because what if Neil had said yes back then? Josh and I probably wouldn’t exist. We wouldn’t just be different people, we simply wouldn’t be here at all. The thought makes me shiver.
And it’s not just that. Why didn’t Mum or Ima tell us? Maybe they thought that, because nothing had happened, it didn’t matter. But it does.
What else aren’t they telling us? Is everyone walking round with secrets? Looking like they’ve got nothing to hide, but with all this going on just beneath the surface? I thought I knew my family inside out, but maybe I hardly know them at all. Archie seems to know what my mums will say or do or think better than I do, and Josh…well, Josh and I never used to have secrets from each other and now it seems that we both do. Without me even noticing, everything’s changed and I don’t like it.
So that’s it, I promise myself, enough secrets. I’ll tell them all tonight.
“Hi, Becky,” says Neil, coming into the living room. “You look gorgeous! So grown up! Are you all set for the party?”
I nod, unable to speak. I notice that his shoes are off and he’s wearing one blue striped sock, and one black with yellow spots.
He sees me looking, grins and wanders back into the hallway to get his smart shoes. “Oh yes, I get it, I’m the one who’s not ready yet.” He sits down to lace them up, without stopping his flow of chat. “You’ve done a fantastic job with the decorations. You must have been busy. It’s always like this for a function – you want to make it look effortless, right, but so much hard work has to go into making it not look like hard work! But this is my favourite moment – after all the prep is done, before the first guest has arrived. When anything’s possible.”
The doorbell rings. Archie skips down the stairs. Auntie Jackie appears out of the kitchen, still holding the dirty mugs. “Can you two get the door?” she asks Archie and me.
And it begins.
The guests start arriving – some are people who I see all the time, others who I’ve never met before. The doorbell hardly stops ringing for the next half an hour. Grandma appears, with Grandpa behind her, and envelops me in a huge perfumy hug. Uncle Noah bounds in and talks about the problems on the motorway in his booming voice to anyone who’ll listen. He’s the only person from Ima’s family who lives near enough to come to the party, so she’ll be extra pleased that he’s made it here despite the traffic.
So Noah’s here – but what about Josh? Each time the door opens, I hope it will be him. But it never is. How much longer will he be?
There’s no time to think. Just as I start to say hello to one person, answering the same questions about school and about how we managed to keep the party a surprise, someone new arrives and I start all over again. Whenever anyone asks where Josh is – which everyone does – I mumble something about how he’s on his way, and encourage them to go and get a drink or to leave their presents and cards on the table.
In the middle of all the bustle, I can’t help but look at every man who comes in and wonder – did they ask him? Or him? Could he have been my dad? It hits me – this must be what Josh wonders all the time. It’s hardly bothered me before, but something’s changed: now that I know who it could have been, I want to know who it is.
By the time Ima’s text comes through – Just leaving station. Be there in 15. Stand by – everyone has arrived and we’re all taking our places in the living room, ready to hide as soon as we hear the car pull up. Everyone except Josh. I was still hoping he’d make it, come running in at the last minute. But no. What will Mum and Ima say when they find out Josh isn’t here? My stomach is fluttering, but with worry, not excitement. Worry about disappointing Mum, about not knowing what to tell Ima, about upsetting them in front of all their friends.
I’m waiting in the hallway and hear Mum’s voice speaking to Ima, drifting through as the door opens.
“…dinner and a hot bath, that will suit me nicely. I feel like I’ve walked round the whole of London…”
I am frozen to the spot next to the door. Mum looks straight at me. She can tell instantly that something’s up.
“Becky?” she asks, puzzled. “Is everything all right? What are you doing lurking here?”
I take a deep breath – there’s no reason to keep this secret any longer. I fling open the door to the living room and everyone shouts at once: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Mum looks absolutely stunned.
There’s a moment of total silence when I wonder for the very first time, did we do the right thing?
“Oh my, Ruth – you didn’t? All this…” Mum whispers, her hands held up to her face.
“Not just me,” says Ima, beaming by Mum’s side as she puts a glass of champagne into her hand. Ima’s taking in the decorations and the food and the cake and the music and is bouncing with excitement. Mum isn’t taking anything in at all. “It was Becky too, and Josh. We wanted to give you a really special birthday. One you’ll never forget.”
Mum looks at the glass in her hand as if she has no idea how it got there. “Yes…this is amazing. Truly amazing.” And she folds me and Ima into a hug. “Thank you so much. Where’s Josh so I can embarrass him with a hug too in front of all these wonderful people?”
Ima looks round the room over my shoulder.
“Er, well, he just had to nip out for something. He’ll be back in a minute,” I say, with my fingers crossed behind my back, hoping that will turn out to be true.
“Oh,” says Mum. And her smile drops a little. “He’s not here now then?” She looks tired.
I expect the inquisition from Ima about where Josh is. But instead she looks curious, not angry or worried. I guess she doesn’t know what I know: that he’s been out all day and we still don’t know exactly where he is. I don’t say anything. I don’t want to spoil things for her. But my fingers are still crossed, hard, wishing that he’ll come home soon.
Luckily the people hovering around us move forward and Mum is swept up in hugs and excited greetings, distracting her from asking questions about Josh – for now at least.
The journey back is totally different from the way up. Instead of peace and quiet, it feels like hundreds of people are crammed into each carriage. I feel different too. No longer excited about meeting Eli, just feeling sick about what a mess I’ve got myself into.
It’s obvious after about ten seconds that there’s no way I’m getting a seat. By the time I get on the train, there are already people sitting in the corridors and in the luggage racks, or perched on the edges of the tables. There’s barely room to move or even to breathe. I’m struggling to breathe normally anyway. My chest feels all tight, full of the things I’m worried about. My stomach’s rumbling, and there’s nothing I want more than the squashed biscuits in my bag – but reaching them in this crush would be impossible. There’s no space. I can’t even move my arm to check the time on my watch. All I know is that I’m desperately late and that I’ve let everyone down.
This is the only train running south, and it’s stopping everywhere on its way down. So instead of speeding past fields, we’re crawling through tiny local stations where a handful of people squeeze on and off each time we stop. We’re moving, but painfully slowly.
The slow pace means there’s plenty of time to think, which is not a good thing. Plenty of time to worry about the party and to feel bad about messing Becky around. But most of all, time to beat myself up about what I said to Eli and what he said to me. I still can’t shake off the feeling that he’s my brother, whether he believes it or not. It’s there in the way we look, the way we act. But I don’t have a way to prove it. And, despite all of that, there’s this tiny voice in the back of my head, which says, What if he’s right? What if I’m just seeing what I want to see?
When we get into Watford, I push past everyone so that I can leap off the train as soon as the doors open, nearly tripping over as I stumble onto the platform. I run through the station, weaving my way around the knots of people staring despondently up at the boards. The lights in the ticket hall are bright, but outside the station the day is fading to dusk, even though it’s still warm. My hands are shaking as I fumble with my bike lock, but I eventually unlock it and cycle home as fast as I can. The blood’s rushing in my ears and I can feel my heart pounding.
Even so, it’s nearly eight by the time I turn the corner into our street. The party must have been going on for almost an hour already. All the lights are on in the house, and I can hear music pumping out. I know I should see if I can just slip straight in and join the party without a fuss, be nice to everyone, hope not too many people noticed I wasn’t there. That would be the sensible thing to do. But I just stand there, staring. I tell myself over and over again that I need to go in and face all those people and conversations, all the noise and buzz of celebration, but my feet won’t move. Instead, I want to collapse on my bed, pull the duvet over my head and not face anybody.
Finally, I move. Leaving my bike by the side of the house, I slip through the gate to the garden. There are fairy lights and coloured lanterns everywhere and streamers drifting in the trees.
“You must be Josh?” says a woman in a tight pink dress, wobbling over to me unsteadily on her high heels and clutching a glass of wine. “I studied nursing with your mum. Oh, longer ago than I care to remember. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.”
I look around and realize that while everyone else in is their party clothes, I’m still wearing the jeans, hoodie and crumpled T-shirt, now stuck to my back with sweat, that I threw on at five this morning.
“Josh!” shrieks Becky. “You’re here!”
She rushes up and gives me a hug so tight that it almost squeezes the breath out of me. I can tell she’s pleased, no, relieved to see me, but her grip is so tight that she’s definitely angry too. Her camera bag, slung over her shoulder, swings round and slams against my side. Pink-dress woman has disappeared.
“This looks amazing, Becks,” I say once she lets me go and I can speak again. “You did all this? I mean, wow.” I feel even worse about deserting her today when it’s obvious how hard she’s worked to make everything look perfect. Although, I don’t know how much help I would have been, I mean, Becky’s so much better at that sort of stuff than I am.
“I know – and you haven’t even seen inside yet,” she continues. “Just shows how well I can manage without you, doesn’t it?” She’s staring at me, hands on hips. I can feel the stare, even without meeting her eyes. Becky’s stares are legendary.
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry about today, it’s hard to explain but—”
“Look, don’t think I’m forgiving you for this, not for a long time,” she interrupts, “but not now, okay? Go and get changed and then go and say happy birthday to Mum at least. But later – I want to know everything. Ev-ery-thing.” She pokes me in the chest with each syllable. “You so owe me.”
Upstairs, I pull on a shirt and jeans and put some product in my hair. I’m starting to feel normal again. My room looks a mess because of the pile of jackets and coats on my bed from all the party guests. It’s only on my way out that I realize something else is different. Not right.
I turn back and look round. The duvet’s on the floor and the wardrobe door is open. And I’m sure I left my tablet on the desk and not on my bed.
So who was going through my stuff while I was out?
Becky. I feel a flash of anger. Even if she was worried about where I was, she shouldn’t have gone in my room or been snooping around on my tablet, whatever the reason. I told her not to worry, didn’t I? That I was okay and was coming back. After all these people have gone, she’d better say sorry.
But first I need to find Mum. Having so many people in the house makes it feel both bigger and smaller at the same time. It’s hard to squeeze through the crowded rooms. Before I find Mum, Auntie Jackie finds me.
“Josh, thank god!” she exclaims. “You had us so worried. That was so thoughtless of you.”
“I know,” I mumble. “I’m sorry.”
“Good. You should be. And what about your poor sister? It’s her you need to say sorry to, not me.”
Huh, I think, Becky should say sorry to me too.
“And your mum,” continues Auntie Jackie. “Have you even seen her yet?”
“I’m just looking for her now…”
“Well, for goodness’ sake, go and at least say ‘happy birthday’!” She gives me a shove in the direction of the living room.
I find Mum leaning against the living-room doorframe, her head tipped to one side, listening intently to someone I don’t recognize. I touch her shoulder. For a second, as she turns to me, she looks as tired as I feel, and then her face breaks into a wide grin.
“Happy birthday, Mum.”
“Josh, am I glad to see you.” She hugs me tight. I wince. I’ve only just recovered from Becky’s massive hug. “Where have you been?”
I open my mouth, trying to think of something to say.
“No, never mind,” continues Mum. “You can tell me all about it later when it’s just us. What a day I’ve had! And then, this – this surprise.” She lets go of me and waves her hand to take in the room and all the people. “Thank you – I know you and Becky have worked so hard. And you didn’t let on at all.”
“Well…” I shrug, looking at my feet. “It was mostly Becky who did the work really, not me.”
Mum and I are almost the same height, so when she tilts my chin to lift it up, we are eye to eye. “You too – I know you, Josh.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d like it, the surprise and all the fuss and everything.”
“Well…” She stretches out the word. “I was a bit shocked. I was looking forward to a Chinese takeaway and putting my feet up – but don’t you dare tell Ima and Becky that! I would never have planned a big birthday party for myself, but now I’m here, I must admit –” she lowers her voice to a whisper – “I’m quite enjoying it. It’s not so bad being the centre of attention after all. Just as long as you and Becky are here. Nothing else really matters.”
Out of nowhere, Ima appears behind me and throws her arm round my shoulder. “So, the wanderer returns…” she says cheerfully. I’d expected her to be angry that I wasn’t here when they got home, but instead she seems very relaxed. I know Ima loves a party – tonight’s as much for her as it is for Mum, maybe even more.
“Yeah, uh, I…”
“Not the best time to choose to go and get your phone though, Josh. I mean, you had all afternoon, and instead you disappear off at the crucial point and miss the big moment!”
“My phone?”
“Yes, of course. It was hours ago I called Becky and told her where you’d lost it. Although I guess you were too busy preparing for the party to go any earlier. You’re lucky someone found it.”
“Er, yeah, right.”
“And did you get the message about Denise’s chairs in the end? It’s a good job that you didn’t borrow them after all, it’s just fine as it is. It would have been too crowded in here with any more furniture.”
Denise? Chairs? Knowing where my lost phone is? Nothing Ima is saying makes any sense, it’s like she’s speaking a different language. All I can do is nod and hope that Becky will fill me in later.
“Oh, Anna, look,” exclaims Ima, catching hold of Mum’s arm. “Paula’s brought her new girlfriend, they weren’t sure she’d be able to make it, come on, let’s go over.”
Mum looks back and raises her eyebrows at me in mock resignation, as Ima sweeps her away, but she’s grinning too. She looks like she’s having a good time.
I wander back into the kitchen. I want to keep out of the way so that Becky or Auntie Jackie won’t find me and have a go. This seems like a safe place. At least it’s quieter in here and cooler. I start to relax, relief flooding through me: I did it. I met Eli. I got back okay in the end despite everything going wrong. I did it all by myself. And everyone else did fine without me. They didn’t need me. Maybe they even got on better with me out of the way. Anyway, I’m at the party now, aren’t I? It’s sorted. It’s all going to be okay.
Except I don’t feel too good, my head’s aching and I feel a bit sick. I hardly slept last night and I still haven’t eaten anything since lunchtime. But, I can’t be bothered to move, even to get some food. I’ll just sit here, till I feel a bit better, and let the party happen around me.
But I don’t start feeling better. Instead, I feel worse. I start thinking about how Becky went through my stuff, and how angry I am with her. Not just with her, Auntie Jackie too, for telling me off like I’m a little kid. And Mum and Ima, for not even thinking about how I might feel about not having a dad. And Eli, for calling me crazy and walking away. And the donor, whoever he is, for not being here. And with me, for just taking it all and saying nothing. But now I’ve had enough. I’m angry with everyone now. I can feel it building up inside me till I can hardly breathe. It’s all right for them. They all know who they are and where they come from, they all seem so sorted. Except me. It’s not fair.
