Apple and Rain (5 page)

I’m using a green pen to correct Linda’s grammar when Mrs Tilly, the headmaster’s secretary, floats into the classroom. She whispers something into Mr Gaydon’s ear. He frowns. ‘Could Apple please go to reception for a message from the nurse,’ he says. I’m sitting at the back. Everyone turns in their chairs to peer at me.

‘That’s you, Apple,’ Linda Johns says.

‘Yeah,’ I say. I’m not sure how to act. I’ve never been called out of class before. Mr Gaydon doesn’t know my name, but he quickly figures out who I am and comes towards me smiling. Is it a pitying smile?

‘What’s the homework, sir?’ I ask.

Mr Gaydon waves away the idea of it and my stomach drops. It must be something bad for a teacher not to care about homework. Is Dad’s baby OK? Has something terrible happened to Nana?

‘What’s the homework?’ I ask again.

Mr Gaydon goes to his desk and comes back holding a piece of paper.

‘Read this poem and write one hundred words about something you’re afraid of. Again, in either poetry or prose.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I reply.

When I get to the door, I glance at Pilar who gives me an exaggerated thumbs up. But it only makes me feel worse.

The school nurse is waiting by reception. ‘Apple,’ she says briskly. She leads me into an office that smells of coffee and antiseptic. She puts on her coat.

‘Is it my grandmother?’ I ask.

She puts her arm around me. ‘I’m assured it’s nothing to worry about. Someone’s coming to pick you up and take you to the hospital in a few minutes.’

I grip the straps of my school bag. ‘What happened? Who’s with her?’

‘I don’t have any details. Come on, let’s go out to the car park and see if your lift’s arrived.’

I stand next to the nurse and can’t help thinking about what would happen to me if Nana was
really
sick. Maybe they’d let me take care of her, or maybe they’d send me to live with my dad. Either way, it would be awful.

A car pulls up beside us and a voice calls out of the window above the din of dance music, ‘Cab for Apple Apostolopoulou?’ The person pronounces my surname perfectly.

‘Thank you,’ the nurse says. She turns to me. ‘No one’s been able to get in touch with your dad. Do you have a mobile? Can you call him?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Right, and if there’s any problem about where you’re going to sleep tonight or anything of that sort, give the school a call. Someone will be here until about six o’clock. OK?’

‘Yes, miss.’ I climb into the black Audi. The car pulls away and the nurse scuttles back into reception.

I don’t expect to have to talk to the driver, but as she rounds the corner she turns down the music and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. She can see me fully. I can only see her eyes – rusty brown and heavily made-up. ‘Everything OK, honey?’ she asks.

‘Fine, thank you,’ I say sourly because Nana has always warned me not to talk to strangers – although if the driver is a kidnapper, there isn’t a lot I can do about it now I’m strapped into the back seat of her car.

‘Your grandmother is fine,’ the woman says. Her eyes crinkle into a smile. The car turns into a cul-de-sac and slows to a stop. I stiffen. Is she planning to abduct me in broad daylight? And how does she know about Nana?

‘I’m meant to be going to the h-hospital,’ I stutter. I grasp the door handle and wonder whether to jump out and make a run for it.

The woman turns fully so her whole face is revealed. She smiles again. Her teeth are perfectly straight and white. ‘It’s me, Apple,’ she says gently.

My mouth goes dry. It can’t be. But it is. ‘Mum?’ I only recognise her because I’ve studied the photos she’s emailed to Nana.

‘Phew. I was worried for a second you didn’t recognise me. You look so different.’

I try to think of something to say. Something that will mark this as an important moment in our lives. Before I can think of anything, Mum gets out of the car, opens the back door, and smiles again, with her lovely American teeth.

‘How long are you staying?’ is all I can say.

‘I’m back for good, sweetheart.’ For good? Meaning
for ever
? A few moments earlier I was terrified of my life changing, and it was, but in the best possible way. ‘I know it’s probably a bit of a shock seeing me, but can I have a hug?’ Mum says. I jump out of the car and throw my arms around her. I breathe in her heavy perfume. I can hardly believe she’s real.

‘Mum,’ I say.

‘So what should we do with our afternoon?’ she asks.

I shrug. And then I remember Nana. ‘Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?’

She laughs into the sky. ‘What? No! That was to get you out of school, you ninny. Nana’s fine. I think.’

‘Have you seen her?’

‘I’ll see her later. Right now, I’m hungry. Aren’t you?’ she asks.

It’s almost lunchtime. I only had a few spoons of porridge for breakfast. ‘Very,’ I say.

Mum tugs the band holding her ponytail together and shakes her long hair loose. It falls in smooth waves down her back. ‘Right, hop in the front, and let’s get going.’

I want to ask her if Nana knows I’m missing school, but it’s a silly question. So I don’t say anything. I climb into the passenger seat next to her and fasten my seat belt.

8

The Palace Hotel sits at the top of the cliffs. Not that they’re proper cliffs with scary death-drops. The cliffs in Brampton-on-Sea roll into the ocean like a soft blanket. Sailing boats are dots in the distance. The clouds are creamy against the horizon.

The hotel is where the posh weddings and mayors’ banquets are held. And here I am sitting at one of their tables by the window with a stiff napkin on my lap and a plate of battered fish called calamari on the plate in front of me.
And
I’m with my mum.

‘Well, go on, have a taste. It’s very common in America,’ Mum says.

I dip a piece of calamari into tomatoey sauce and pop it into my mouth. It’s rubbery but good. I reach for more.

‘Told you you’d like it,’ Mum says. She pushes her white wine towards me. I take a sip and giggle. I feel sort of light-headed, but I don’t know if it’s because of the wine or how excited I am to be with my mum. She takes back her glass and guzzles down the last bit. Then she holds it up for the waiter to see. He scutters off to fetch another. ‘Nothing like a chilled glass of Chardonnay,’ she says.

She gazes out at the sea.

The tide is in. Waves crash against the cliffs in thick, noisy gulps. Mum stares for a few minutes and I watch her, not saying anything.

The waiter places the wine on the table between us. Without taking her eyes from the sea, Mum reaches for the glass and sips. She doesn’t really resemble other mums: she’s wearing loads of chunky necklaces over a thin T-shirt. And her nose is pierced.

‘When I was your age, I had a boyfriend called Glen. He was four years older than me, and I used to sneak down to the seafront with him. He always had money for beers. That’s naughty, isn’t it?’ She looks at me like she expects me to say something. I try to think of what she wants to hear. Then she yawns, so I pop another piece of calamari into my mouth and chew. ‘How is it living with Nana?’

‘Nice. OK. She’s a bit strict.’

Mum snorts. ‘Nothing changes there. She used to make me miserable.’

‘It’s better than living with Dad. Then I’d have to see his new wife every day. Her name’s Trish. I hate her.’

Mum laughs. ‘I think there’s a law that you’re meant to hate your stepmother!’

‘I suppose.’ I push a piece of calamari across my plate. It’s too much to finish.

‘Want dessert? I’m having a piece of the warm choc­olate fudge cake.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ I say, still hardly able to believe I’m really with my mum. This is the best day of my life.

Ever.

9

Eventually Mum and I have to go back to Nana’s house, and when we get through the door, it’s like jumping into a box of exploding fireworks.

Nana sends me straight upstairs where I burrow beneath my duvet to try to drown out the sound of Nana screaming. Derry nuzzles my neck. It doesn’t help. I can still hear them.

Nana:
How dare you take her out of school without telling me! I was out of my mind with worry. I thought she’d been abducted, for God’s sake. I called the hospital
and
the police.

Mum:
I have a right to see my own child.

Nana:
Since when? Five hours ago? You stroll into her life like the last eleven years haven’t even happened. I won’t have you hurting her, do you hear me?

Mum:
We were having fun. She’s happy. Go and ask her.

Nana:
I’m sure she is, Annie. But that might be because she’s thirteen years old and you took her
drinking
. Do you think that’s how a mother behaves?

Mum:
She had a few sips.

Nana:
And I suppose that makes it OK?

Mum:
I’m sorry, but I’m back in Brampton for good, and I want a relationship with her. I hope you can support that.

Nana:
How dare you? I’ve spent years trying to persuade you to take an interest in Apple.

Mum:
I’ve always been interested in her. I’ve had . . . things to sort out. I couldn’t be what she needed. But I’m here for her now. I’m not eighteen any more. I can be a mother. I
am
a mother. And not a bad one.

Derry sniffs my armpit. ‘Get off.’ I push him away. Why am I hiding upstairs and not with Mum, defending her? If I let Nana keep shouting, maybe she’ll persuade Mum to run away again. I don’t want that.

I fly down the stairs, closely followed by Derry. Mum is sitting at the kitchen table. Nana is towering over her.

‘Leave Mum alone!’ I shout.

‘I told you to wait in your room,’ Nana says sternly. Any other time I would scurry away. Not today.

Mum’s mascara is smudged and her eyes are red from crying.

And then the front door opens and is slammed shut. Derry barks, growls and backs himself into a corner.

‘Bernadette? Apple?’ It’s Dad. Nana must have been so worried she called him. And he came. He actually came.

He charges into the kitchen, smashing the door against the fridge. Mum jumps up. When Dad sees her, he gasps and drops his phone.

‘Chris. Hi. You’re looking good,’ Mum says. Her hair falls over one eye and she smiles. She’s so pretty. I wish she would steal Dad away from Trish.

‘We thought she’d been bloody well kidnapped. Now I see
you’re
behind this. Why didn’t I guess?’ Dad folds his arms across his chest. He glares at Mum. He’s not flirting with her, I can tell that much.

Mum tries to look sorry. ‘I didn’t mean to have anyone running to the priest to arrange a funeral. I wanted to see her. I got off the plane, and I couldn’t wait.’

Dad keeps his arms folded, but his expression softens. ‘You flew in today?’

‘This morning. I just finished a show.’

Dad smiles. Nana’s mouth is puckered into a sour pout.

‘That’s lovely, Annie. I do hope your adoring audience gave you a standing ovation,’ Nana says. ‘I’m wondering what the plan is now. Are you going to tap-dance on the pier for money?’

Mum stands up and puts on her coat. ‘I have to go now. I’ve appointments this evening to see some two-bed apartments. I’m hoping that Apple . . .’ She pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘I want Apple to come and live with me.’

Nana’s eyes become hot clots of rage. Dad winces like he’s been pinched. But no one speaks. I can’t even think. I feel dizzy as the blood stutters around my heart. Live with her? In a place that isn’t Nana’s house?

‘The truth is, Apple isn’t happy,’ Mum says. ‘Isn’t that right, Apple?’

Nana pulls her hands out of her pockets. Is she going to hit Mum?

‘Apple told me that you basically treat her like a prisoner, and that Chris is wrapped up in his new wife and life. I want to give her more.’

Dad and Nana turn to me. My face flushes. Why is Mum telling them what I’ve said? It wasn’t meant to be broadcast.

‘Is this true, Apple?’ Nana’s eyes tighten into thin lines.

I pick at the skin around my nails. Maybe if I do this for a while everyone will ignore me and continue fighting with each other. They wait for me to speak.

‘I don’t need to be collected from school,’ I murmur.

‘Trish has only ever been kind to you, Apple,’ Dad says.

‘It’s OK, Apple,’ Mum says. She gets up from the table, stands behind me and places her hands on my shoulders. She’s on my side, and Nana and Dad seem to be on the other.

Derry cowers in his basket. He can tell something hor­­rible is happening. I want to snuggle with him, so we’ll both feel better.

‘I don’t need an answer now, of course. Apple will need a few days to decide what she’d like to do,’ Mum says.