Dandelion Clocks (7 page)

I am in total shock. Dad knows, as much as anyone else, that Isaac will
not
eat just because he's hungry. If something upsets him, then he either has a huge tantrum or goes really quiet and won't do anything. That's why we have the rules – to keep him safe and to keep a routine.

Something is really, really wrong and I'm scared for Isaac and I'm scared for me.

I am sitting with Isaac watching television, glad to be home after the world's worst day at school (Moronic Louise told Ben that I'd been saying nasty things about him. I don't know if he believed her but it's made me feel kind of awkward around him), when Dad tells us that he wants us to go upstairs. I start to get up, but he stops me.

‘Not yet, Liv,' he says. ‘Mum and I want to talk to you about something important. Just wait here until I call you – it'll be a few minutes.' He leaves the room and I hear him go upstairs. Isaac changes the TV channel and I sit wondering what they might be about to tell us. The clue must be in Dad's voice. If he sounded sad, then I reckon I was right all along and they're getting a divorce. If he sounded happy, then maybe they're planning to give us a treat? I look out of the window, replaying
Dad's voice in my head. The garden is looking even more of a state at the moment. Mum is the only person who actually enjoys gardening and since she's been ill everything looks as if it's been growing at double speed. I'm thinking really hard but it's impossible to work out how Dad sounded – it's like he's got a whole new emotion that I haven't a name for.

Isaac has flicked TV channels again and suddenly my favourite advert for Disneyland is on the screen. And it gets me thinking. Maybe that's what they want to talk to us about? After all, I've dropped enough hints about it that they'd have to be stupid not to notice. I've even looked up loads of Walt Disney quotes on the Internet and started leaving them on Post-it notes on the fridge door. I thought that if I could convince them it might be educational, then they might start to think it was a good idea. My absolute favourite quote is Walt Disney saying that if you can dream it, then you can do it. Well, I have been dreaming about going to Disneyland forever, so maybe, finally, I will get to live my dream!

Isaac suddenly changes channels again, but my advert isn't finished so I'm struggling to grab the remote off him, when I hear Dad calling us. His
voice sounds a bit funny and I start to feel excited. Something big is happening, that's for sure!

He and Mum are in their bedroom. Mum hasn't got out of bed for a few days. I've been rushing in there to say goodbye before school and going in to say goodnight at bedtime, but I've been really busy with homework and seeing Alice, and she's usually asleep when I do go in. Anyway, I'm guessing she's got that horrible flu that everyone is going on about and I
really
don't want to catch it. I'm ninety-nine per cent sure that Moronic Louise fancies Ben and would totally make the most of me being away from school to tell him awful things about me and to make her move.

It seems a bit weird to be all going in there together and I suddenly feel a bit shy. I stand in the doorway, unsure whether I should go in or not.

‘Come and sit here with me,' calls Mum, patting the side of her bed. She is sitting up and wearing a new pair of pyjamas – in fact, she looks better than she's looked all week. I run over and cuddle up to her. I won't admit it but I've really missed her since she got ill. I've been reading her diary a bit more but it's not the same as talking to her properly. Isaac sits next to Dad at the bottom of
the bed and I wonder again what they're going to tell us.

Actually, I'm pretty certain that I guessed it right downstairs. I reckon that it'd be the perfect time to whisk us all away on holiday. Mum's been really tired and poorly for ages now, so she's got to get better soon. It'd probably really help her to have a break. And possibly – I can hardly bear to think about it – almost definitely, it's the place that I've
always
wanted to go! That'd explain why they wanted to make a big deal out of telling us, and why Dad said ‘Wait and see what happens' when I was going on about it again a few weeks ago. Oh my goodness, Alice is going to be
so
jealous.

Dad asks Isaac to take his earphones out for a moment and I can hardly sit still I'm so excited.

‘We wanted you both in here together so that we can tell you something,' starts Dad. His voice sounds even weirder than it did downstairs. ‘It's a really big thing that we need to talk about and –'

‘I
knew
it!' I squeal, unable to keep quiet any longer. ‘You are the
best
parents
ever
!'

‘Liv,' says Dad. ‘Just listen for a minute.'

But I have dreamt of this moment for so long
that nothing can stop me. I leap to my feet. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! When are we going? Oh – I cannot
wait
to tell Alice! It'll be the best holiday in the world!'

‘Going where?' asks Isaac, looking confused.

‘Oh, Isaac, you'll love it. Seriously. I'll show you everything on the website so you know what to expect – they've got the biggest rides, loads of shows – oh, it's gonna be epic!'

‘
LIV!
' shouts Dad suddenly, in an awful kind of voice. I look at him. His face is red and he looks like he's about to blow up or something. ‘Will you be quiet for one minute and
listen
!'

Mum takes hold of my arm. ‘Liv – I don't know what you think we're going to say, but we're not talking about holidays.'

I flop down on the bed, feeling utterly deflated. Just for a moment there, I thought that my terminally uncool parents were actually going to do something funky. I mean, I've wanted to go to Disneyland since I was about three, and it's not as if I haven't gone on about it enough. Everyone knows it's my life's ambition. Life is
so
unfair.

I'm barely even listening now to what Mum is saying; I'm too busy fighting back the tears of frustration. I can hear that she's speaking but for
some reason, my head can't make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

‘Liv? Did you hear any of what I just said?' Mum asks gently. Dad is standing now, and pacing up and down the room, muttering under his breath that it is too hard and he isn't ready for this.

I think about the words that I just heard Mum utter and a cold chill suddenly washes over me. I look at her quickly, confused –
what
did she just say?

She's quiet now, waiting for my reaction. I don't know what to say. I can't even think properly. All that's going through my mind is that nobody has made our packed lunches for tomorrow and Dad always puts the wrong spread in Isaac's sandwiches, so I'd better do it. That Isaac is going to have to learn an awful lot of new rules. That I really, really wish the worst thing that could have happened to my family was my parents getting a divorce, because that would have been a million times better than this. And that I have no idea where the tears streaming down my face are coming from because inside I feel cold and empty.

Mum has pulled me into her arms and is rubbing the small of my back – and that just makes me cry
even more because who is going to do that for Isaac when she's gone? I don't even like having my back rubbed, but I don't move because I think it might be making her feel better and I don't want to be anywhere but here.

We sit like that for ages and eventually I need to blow my nose, and I don't want to wreck Mum's new pyjamas so I pull myself up. Isaac is sitting at the end of the bed, with Dad next to him. He's put his earphones back in and is engrossed in his music, and I wonder if he even understands that our whole world has just caved in.

Mum looks over at Dad and tries to smile but fails. ‘A cup of tea would be really good right now,' she says, with a sob in her voice.

I get up and Dad comes over to Mum. He sits down and pulls her to him, stroking her hair and murmuring words that I can't hear. I feel like we shouldn't be here, so I take Isaac's hand and say that we'll go and put the kettle on. As we reach the door, Isaac suddenly stops and turns round.

‘So where are we actually going then? Cos I need lots of time to get ready, remember, and you need to get me an information book so I know what to expect and what the rules are.'

I pull him out of the room, thinking that I have no idea how much time we have to get ready and that I'm not actually sure there even
is
an information book to help us with this. But I really wish there was because I could definitely do with some rules right now.

The funny thing about being utterly terrified and scared and miserable is that it isn't consistent. I'm not saying that any of us feel better about what's going on with Mum, but the awfulness of the first twenty-four hours just couldn't carry on all day, every day. Mum has actually been up and out of bed this week, and while I wouldn't say that things are back to normal, we're kind of finding a new ‘normal'. The first night after she told us, I couldn't sleep at all – every time I closed my eyes it felt like a nightmare and in the end, I got up and opened her diary.

18 April 1987

It's Easter Day tomorrow! I'm hoping for loads of Easter eggs. I still miss Smokey and I haven't got a boyfriend. Nobody likes me. All the boys think I'm a
big mouth. I really like Michael who sits behind me in maths but all he does is hit me. Mum says that's how twelve-year-old boys show they like you but I think she doesn't know WHAT she's talking about. Seriously – every time he sees me he just whacks me with his pencil case, says something rude about how I look and runs off with his mates, and I REALLY like him – it's SO embarrassing!

Must go – time to watch telly.

Rachel

Xxx

That could be me writing that! That's exactly what Ben has started doing – I've actually got a bruise on my arm from where he threw a football at me. Can't believe it means he likes me, though. I'm with Mum – Granny must have been a bit bonkers when she said that.

29 April 1987

I'm SO excited! I'm going to France on the school trip on Monday – it's the first time I've ever been abroad! I can't wait. But I am a bit worried about leaving Mum and Leah on their own. I always check
that the back door is locked and the electricity is turned off at all the sockets before I go to bed – hope Mum remembers to do it when I'm not here.

The next entry is for a month later. There's nothing about how her school trip went. She's not very good at writing regularly. I wonder what made her think that the things she
did
write about were so important?

27 May 1987

Stop the clocks! Hold the phones! Today is a momentous day that will go down in history. Patrick told Beth that Jason told him that Michael said that he fancies me! Hurray! I am no longer the unlovable Rachel, only girl in the universe who nobody finds attractive. It is so excellent!

I've actually decided that I don't like Michael any more. But that's not the point, is it? SO happy today – I will NEVER forget this day as long as I live …!

I am actually in love with four and a half boys. I really like Matt but he's a bit of a goody-goody. Gary is a creep but I like him too, and actually I'd just settle for him liking me. Simon is quite nice but would never notice someone like me. Michael is
a laugh but too short. Chris is the substitute. It's not funny really – how would you like it if you couldn't even look at a boy without falling in love with him?

Yesterday was school fund-raising day for our local hospital. Beth and I raised £33.42 by going around all day with our legs tied together. And I mean ALL DAY! Even when we went to the loo! It was hilarious.

Reading this made me laugh, but then I remembered about Mum and that everything is not OK, and I felt really bad for laughing. I ended up creeping into Mum and Dad's room later that night. Dad was asleep, but Mum was awake so I lay down next to her and we whispered for hours. I told her about what I'd read in her diary and she laughed and said that, when she was my age, she thought she'd
never
get a boyfriend. She said that Granny always used to tell her that her time would come and that right now, she was so clever and beautiful that she intimidated boys – but that one day they'd get brave and it'd all change.

That made me smile because she's always saying that to me too.

Then Mum put her arm round me and told me
to close my eyes and she sang me a lullaby – the tune I'd heard her humming the other day, which seems like a lifetime ago now – and I remembered how she always used to sing it to me if I was having trouble sleeping.

Mum sang quietly, and as I drifted off to sleep I thought about the words and thought that it was the most beautiful song that I had ever heard.

Now, though, with Mum making our lunches and being there when we come home from school, it feels as if all that was a nasty dream that we can start to move on from.

Dad has been introducing some new rules to the house. The first one is that we can eat our meals when everyone who
intends to eat
is sitting down. It's clever, what he's done there. It's virtually the same rule as before, but by changing it just a bit, mealtimes can be more flexible yet Isaac still feels that he is keeping the rule.

Tonight, I am sitting on the stairs waiting for the timer to buzz so that I can get into the bathroom.
If left to his own devices, Isaac will sit in the bath for
hours
. The water will be cold and the rest of the family will be hopping up and down outside, but he won't come out. Isaac loves water. (This has given Mum and Dad quite a few scares over the years. They taught him to swim pretty quickly when they realized that if they were anywhere within three miles of water Isaac would end up wet before too long.) So Isaac has a rule that he can stay in the bath until his thirty-minute timer buzzes. He sticks to this rule rigidly and won't get out of the water one minute early – even if you're hammering on the door with your legs crossed and begging him to let you in.

I'm finding it hard to believe that Mum is really all that ill. She's been so energetic this week. On Thursday I came home from school and she was outside the front of our house, frantically weeding the flower beds. She said that they needed tidying and Dad's been saying he'll get round to it forever, so she was taking matters into her own hands. She certainly didn't seem ill to me.

I am getting really bored waiting for Isaac when Mum comes upstairs and sees me sitting there.

‘Have you got time for a new rule?' she asks me.

‘Oh, Mum!' I groan. ‘What now? Because Dad's
already told Isaac that trying to make scrambled eggs at 4 a.m. is definitely a no-no.' Honestly, sometimes I find it amazing that my brother hasn't burnt our house to the ground with his night-time adventures.

‘This isn't a rule for Isaac – it's for you!' says Mum, beckoning me to follow her and heading into her room. She's made me curious now so I follow her, but I'll be really annoyed if this is some lame attempt to get me to do a chore.

Mum is standing by her dressing table and has put out all of her make-up. She has some really nice stuff (mostly given to her by Leah, I must add) and is highly possessive about it. I've given up trying to convince her to let me use it – all I've got is a strawberry lipgloss and some fairy-dust body glitter. I mean, seriously, how old does she think I am?

Mum pulls out the stool in front of her table and guides me into it. She stands behind me and talks to me in the mirror.

‘It's time you learnt the rules for how to make the most of your beautiful looks,' she informs me. ‘
Not
that I'm agreeing to you wearing make-up before you're sixteen,' she adds quickly as I start to grin. ‘It's just something that you need to learn.
Granny taught me and I'm teaching you. Besides, you're twelve next week and that's a really great age to start looking after your skin.'

I look at all the stuff that she's laid out in front of me. Lotions and potions in loads of different-shaped bottles – and a
lot
of cotton wool.

‘The first and most important thing to remember is that beautiful skin is healthy skin,' she says, and picks up a bottle marked
cleanser
. I groan inside. I thought this would be fun, like putting make-up on that freaky, disembodied plastic head that Granny brought out of the attic and said that Mum spent so much time playing with when she was a girl. Instead, Mum's making it sound like a lot of work.

‘It does require a bit of effort,' says Mum, as if reading my mind. ‘But the most expensive, luxurious make-up in the world cannot cover up a spotty, greasy face.'

I have to agree with her there. Moronic Louise wears make-up all the time at weekends and if you're ever unfortunate enough to bump into her in town, it can be very hard not to stare at the sight of her bright red lips fighting with her bright red pimples for attention. Not a good look.

Mum has squirted some of the cleanser on to
cotton wool and is gently but firmly wiping my face with it. It's quite relaxing actually.

‘Do you ever wash your face, Liv?' asks Mum.

How rude!

‘Of course I do,' I reply, feeling slightly less relaxed.

‘Do you wash it
properly
? Get rid of all the dirt?' questions Mum.

I'm insulted now. I thought this was meant to be a nice experience.

‘Yes, Mum,' I snap. ‘I am one hundred per cent confident that my face is free from any dirt. I think I'd see it, don't you? I'm not like Isaac, you know – I can actually eat without spreading half of my meal across my face!'

‘OK, OK,' says Mum, holding her hands up in mock-surrender, ‘if you're absolutely sure. Just take a little look at this cotton wool, though.'

She holds out the cotton wool that she's been cleaning my face with and my jaw hits the floor (or should that be my dirty, manky, filthy jaw hits the floor?). The cotton wool is
black
– well, maybe browny-grey, but disgusting-looking, all the same.

Mum bursts out laughing at my expression and throws the offending item in the bin before bending down to hug me.

‘Have I got your attention now, sweetheart?' she grins, but I am too shocked to answer her and am busy scrutinizing my face in the mirror to see what else I have failed to notice.

‘Don't worry, Liv – you're gorgeous,' says Mum, straightening up and squirting something else on to yet more cotton wool. ‘You've got lovely skin – you can thank your dad for that – but it's always a good rule to look after what you've got. Don't take anything for granted.'

Our eyes meet in the mirror and for a moment I think I might start crying, but Mum smiles at me and starts showing me the next step in my new beauty regime.

We spend the next thirty minutes cleansing, toning and moisturizing, and then, much to my delight, Mum shows me how to apply eyeliner and eyeshadow and mascara. She even lets me put some lipstick on, but draws the line at foundation and blusher because she says it'll ruin all the good work we've done on cleaning my skin. Then, the best bit – she lets me practise on
her
! I try really hard to do a good job, but it's very difficult to keep your hand steady and I end up drawing a jerky line under her eyes that she says makes her look about twenty years older than she is.

When I'm finished, she looks in the mirror and says that I could have a great future ahead of me as a special-effects artist and then we start laughing, and we laugh so much that tears roll down our faces and then the make-up starts running and that makes us laugh even more. I'm laughing so much that my stomach hurts – in fact I can't remember laughing this hard in ages. Then, just as I'm gasping in a deep breath and feeling like I might collapse with laughter, I glance over at Mum. She's still laughing but I can see that her face, beneath my awful makeover, is scrunched up as if she's in actual, real pain and not just laughter aches.

I forgot. For one moment I actually forgot about what is happening to Mum and I laughed as if there was nothing wrong. I feel like I've just walked into a brick wall and all I can do is stand there and look at her, my head racing with thoughts that I don't want to be having.

Mum sees that I've stopped laughing and sits down on her bed, pulling me next to her. We sit for a while, cuddled up together, and when I start to get fidgety and move away, I see that some of my make-up has rubbed off on her white shirt.

‘OK, Liv?' asks Mum, and I nod at her. ‘It's OK
to have some fun, you know,' she tells me quietly. ‘It's good to make happy memories.'

I want to tell her that I don't want memories – I want her. But I don't say a word. I think that maybe the happy memories aren't just for me – perhaps she thinks she can take them with her. And I make a silent promise to give Mum as many happy memories as I can. We sit for a little while longer and then Mum calls Dad to take a photo of us. We stand next to the door with our arms round each other and pull the most hideous faces possible – I've got my tongue out and Mum is rolling her eyes and puffing out her cheeks – and she says that when the photo is printed it should be labelled ‘Beauty and the Beast'!

After that I can finally get in the bathroom cos Isaac's buzzer has gone and he's back in his room. I wash off the make-up and wish that days like today could last forever or be put in a bottle like the ones on Mum's dressing table, so I could take it out whenever I wanted.