The Astonishing Return of Norah Wells (16 page)

Norah strokes Louis under the kitchen table. His legs are jittery, just like they were when she was too busy looking after Ella and Willa to take him out for a walk. He'd been forgotten today, poor old man. She'd found him hoovering up bits of popcorn in the lounge, his bowl in the kitchen, empty.

I'm sorry, Louis,
she says under her breath.

Norah listens to the scraping of knives and forks. Adam's made Willa beans on toast.

Ella's upstairs, sulking.

No one's spoken for ages.

‘So Mummy's not coming home at all tonight?' Willa asks.

‘I'm afraid not,' says Adam.

‘But she said she didn't have to work this weekend. She said she'd got special permission because it's my birthday.'

Adam puts down his knife and fork. ‘It was an emergency. You know how important Fay's —' he coughs. ‘How important Mummy's job is, how she's one of the very best surgeons and that sometimes there's a complicated operation and no one else is good enough to do it.' He pauses. ‘She's promised she'll be back for your birthday tomorrow.' He glances at Norah. ‘You know that Mummy keeps her promises.'

Norah knows he's saying all this for her benefit.
Look how amazing Fay is
.
The Mother Who Stayed.

‘What if the emergency keeps going? What if she's needed tomorrow too?'

‘She'll be here, Willa.'

Willa pushes the beans around on her plate. ‘Daddy?'

‘What?'

‘Where did you go this afternoon?'

‘Eat your beans, Willa.'

‘Were you getting something for the party?'

‘Maybe.'

She'd looked for him too; she'd thought that Fay being out of the way would give them the chance to talk. He'd come back red-faced and flustered, and she'd leant in, expecting to smell beer on his breath. And then she'd felt guilty.

Norah clears her throat. ‘Maybe I should take some food up to Ella.'

‘I'm not sure —' Adam starts.

‘I have to try,' Norah says.

‘Try what?' Willa asks.

‘She'll be hungry, she needs to eat.'

‘But Ella's put her
KEEP
OUT
note on her door: that means she won't come out for anyone.'

‘Her
KEEP
OUT
note?'

‘It's for when Ella and Mummy have rows. Like when Mummy wants to go in and tidy up – Ella doesn't like anyone touching her things so she tells her to
KEEP
OUT
.'

‘Willa —' Adam says, his tone warning her not to continue.

No, do continue,
thinks Norah. It's a relief to hear that Fay hasn't got everything right.

Willa shrugs. ‘I just thought Auntie Norah should know that Ella's upset and that she won't be hungry.'

Adam kisses Willa's head. ‘It's okay, darling. It's all going to be okay.'

 

Norah carries a plate of beans on toast up the stairs. Louis follows her. When they get to the landing, she leans over to give him a stroke between the ears. ‘Good dog,' she says.

She knocks on Ella's door.

No answer.

She hears the creak of the bed.

Louis looks at the door and yelps.

‘It's okay, Louis,' Norah whispers. She knocks again. ‘Ella, it's Mum. I've brought up some food.'

There's a thud, and then footsteps to the door.

‘What did you say?' Ella's voice is low and mean.

Louis looks over his shoulder down the stairs and sniffs the air.

Norah puts the plate on the floor and calls through the door: ‘Ella, it's Mum —'

The door flies open.

Ella stands over Norah, her eyes on fire.

‘You're not my mum.' She spits out the words.

If Ella doesn't like Fay, if she's spent all this time looking for Norah, surely she still loves her. Surely that couldn't disappear in just a day.

‘Ella, please.'

‘And you're not Willa's mum either.' Ella steps forward and points at Norah. ‘You don't deserve to be anyone's mum.' And then she looks down at Louis. ‘And he's not your dog. You walked out on him too.'

She slams the door in Norah's face.

Norah steps back, her legs shaking.

You don't deserve to be anyone's mum
. Ella's words echo around Norah's head.

‘Louis?' She kneels down and holds his head in her hands. She needs him to look at her, to let her know it's okay, that Ella doesn't mean it. Who else is going to reassure her that she hasn't lost her little girl?

Louis gives out a low whine and licks her hand, then hangs his head and pads down to the next landing.

I need to get her back,
Norah thinks. A wave of determination comes over her.
I need to get them all back.

‘Auntie Norah?'

Norah looks down the stairs.

Willa stands there next to Louis, looking up her.

‘What did Ella mean?' asks Willa. ‘What did she mean when she said you weren't her mum?'

Willa kicks at her duvet.

Sometimes, you love someone so much, that you see them as your mum.
That's what Auntie Norah said.
It just means you're close, that's all.

Willa hadn't understood. People only have one mummy and Mummy was Ella's mummy. Auntie Norah was an
auntie
, that's why she was called Auntie rather than Mummy.

Willa's head hurts. She kicks the duvet right off and lets it flop to the floor.

The full moon presses so hard against her curtains that even when she shuts her eyes really tight she can't make the glow go away. There are too many things to think about to go to sleep. Plus, her wobbly tooth hurts – it's hanging on a bit of gum. She wishes it would hurry up and fall out.

Her hands flutter by her side. She tugs at her nightie and scratches the scar under her eye. And then she thinks about how weird things have got in the last few days. Weirder, even, than they were yesterday.

First, it's weird that Mummy went to work even though she promised she'd be here for the whole bank holiday weekend. Mummy never goes back on her promises.

Second, Willa doesn't understand why the police showed up in the first place.

Third, it's weird that Ella's in a bad mood. Well, that bit's not weird – but it's weird that she won't let Willa into her room. Willa and Louis are the two people who Ella always lets in.
Maybe I've done something wrong
, thinks Willa.

Fourth, it's really,
really
weird that Ella went and cut off all her hair and dyed it dark because her long, silky hair was the thing she liked best about herself and she always said that she'd never cut it, not for a million pounds.

Fifth, it's weird that Ella had a shouting match with Auntie Norah, who she's meant to love.

Sixth, it's weird that Ella's hasn't been out to train for her 10k run today. The race is on Monday – Dad doesn't know, but she's been training with Sai and Louis every day for ages.

And seventh, it's weird that Dad disappeared this afternoon without telling them where he went and that he left them alone with Auntie Norah, who's basically a stranger.

At first Willa went down to the basement to see if Daddy was in his photography studio but he wasn't there and then she went to look out of the kitchen window to see if the car was there and it was and then she went to the garage and worked out that Daddy's bike was gone, but why would Daddy go off by bike in the middle of the afternoon without telling anyone? And why did he change the subject when she asked him about it? Maybe he went out to get her a birthday present, but still, he shouldn't have left her with Auntie Norah.

There are other things that are keeping Willa awake too. Like that it's her seventh birthday tomorrow and she's been waiting for that for months. And more exciting even than her birthday is that she's sure Mrs Fox is going to give birth soon. Mummy foxes are pregnant for fifty-three days before they give birth and Willa's counted the days since she first noticed the saggy bit on Mrs Fox's belly and she just knows it has to be tomorrow.

When Willa hears a screamy yowl, a bit like an owl hooting, only deeper, she knows Mrs Fox is calling her.

She climbs out of bed, her hands fluttering even more fiercely by her side, and goes downstairs.

In the lounge, Willa finds Louis asleep on the camp bed with Auntie Norah, his head resting on her thigh. Louis doesn't get that close to strangers, which means she must be Auntie Norah because Auntie Norah lived with Louis too. Ella said that it was Auntie Norah's idea to get him from the Animal Ark.

Willa steps in closer and studies her face. Auntie Norah's hair is like her own, a deep red and knotty and straggly too – though Willa's is shorter. Mummy says it's easier to look after that way. Mummy also says red hair is beautiful and that it makes you special and that she shouldn't listen to the girls at school when they call her Gingernut because they don't understand what true beauty is. Mummy must find Auntie Norah beautiful too.

Looking closer, Willa notices a pattern of golden freckles on Auntie Norah's nose and cheeks. Willa has those too.

If she is Auntie Norah, then they must be related, which means Willa's meant to look a bit like her.

And Auntie Norah makes Willa think of someone else too: the ghost she used to see that made Willa want to go and sleep in Mummy and Daddy's bed. Maybe that's why she didn't have bad dreams tonight and why she isn't scared: because if a ghost turns into a real person, you don't need to be scared any more, do you?

Willa notices a piece of paper poking up out of Auntie Norah's bag. It's wrong to look at people's private things, but how else is she going to find out what's going on when every time she asks a question she's told ‘it's nothing', or ‘it's no one'. She eases the paper out and opens it up and holds it up to the moonlight coming through the glass doors. It's addressed to Daddy, and it's signed from Norah. And it's creased and yellowy like it's really old. And it says that Auntie Norah is leaving. And that she loves Ella and Willa. And she mentions Mummy too. Weird.

Willa folds the piece of paper, puts it back in Auntie Norah's bag, and walks across the garden to her special place.

It's a dark place and even in spring it smells of autumn leaves and wet soil. Willa looks under the gooseberry bush: there's a flattened patch on the grass. And the ground feels warm under Willa's fingers.

Mrs Fox – she must be close.

Willa purses her lips and lets out a low whistle. A rustle in the undergrowth.
It's okay, Mrs Fox, Louis's inside.

Willa narrows her eyes and then she sees it – a red tail with a dash of white, a spark darting past.

Mrs Fox
…
she whispers.
It's me, Willa. You can come out.

‘Willa?' A voice from behind.

Willa's hands stop fluttering. She rubs her eyes. The moon looks brighter. The earth feels closer. Her eyes widen. It takes her a second to realise where she is.

‘Willa?' The voice again.

Willa notices the gooseberry bush and it comes back to her: she was looking for Mrs Fox.

Auntie Norah stands in the garden, her legs and feet bare under her baggy T-shirt. There's something weird about her boobs, like she's only got one dangling to the side. Mummy definitely has two boobs. And Ella's nearly got two boobs too.

Louis comes bounding up behind her.

‘What are you doing out here, Willa?'

Willa remembers what Ella said about not talking to Auntie Norah. But if she doesn't explain, Auntie Norah might tell Daddy that she found Willa out here.

‘I couldn't sleep,' Willa says.

Louis comes over and sniffs under the gooseberry bush.

‘Neither could I.' Auntie Norah looks up into the starry sky. ‘It must be the full moon.'

Willa nods.

‘So what are you looking for?' Auntie Norah bends over and gazes in the gap next to where Louis is sitting.

‘Foxes. Mrs Fox in particular. She's going to have babies soon and I need to make sure she's okay.'

‘That sounds interesting.'

Willa nods again.

‘Most people don't believe me when I tell them that I see the foxes. But I do. They come out most nights; you just have to be patient.' Willa takes a breath. She's worried she's said too much.

But Auntie Norah smiles and says, ‘Sometimes other people see things differently from how we see them.'

Willa likes this explanation. And she likes that Auntie Norah is a grown-up and yet doesn't try to talk her out of spending time looking for foxes. She wishes Ella were here to see how nice she's being; maybe it would make her love her again. She thinks about asking Auntie Norah about the note but decides against it because she might think that Willa's a snoop.

‘So have you seen a fox tonight?' asks Auntie Norah.

Willa nods. ‘Sort of. Just a glimpse – under there.' She flattens Louis's ears because his head blocks the view, and points to the black hole behind the gooseberry bush.

Auntie Norah follows the line of her arm.

Once again, Willa notices Auntie Norah's red hair: it shines under the moon.

‘Why is Ella so angry at you?'

Auntie Norah sits down next to Willa and Louis on the grass. She winds Louis's fur around her fingers and he closes his eyes. If she were a stranger, Louis wouldn't let her do that.

‘I'm afraid that I hurt Ella. I hurt her very badly.'

‘But you've only been here for a day.'

‘Ella and I have known each other for a long time.'

‘Oh.' Willa scratches her scar. ‘You
are
Auntie Norah, then. The Auntie Norah who lived with us before I was born and who played the trumpet and who ran marathons.'

‘Sort of.'

That's what Ella said. And again, Willa doesn't understand how you can
sort of
be someone. But Willa doesn't care. She must be Auntie Norah.

A scream pierces the night sky.

‘That was Mrs Fox,' Willa says, breathless.

‘You know their cries?'

‘She's calling Mr Fox. He goes off on adventures but he's meant to be at home looking after her because she's pregnant.' Willa looks into Auntie Norah's eyes. In this light they're dark brown, like a conker. ‘You won't tell Daddy, will you?'

‘About what?'

‘About me being out here. He doesn't like it.'

‘Why doesn't he like it?'

‘Well, there are two main reasons.' Willa takes a breath. ‘First, it's because I sleepwalk and Daddy worries that I'll go off somewhere and get lost.'

Auntie Norah smiles.

‘Why are you smiling?' asks Willa.

‘I sleepwalk too.'

‘You do?'

Auntie Norah nods.

‘I've never met anyone who sleepwalks before. I mean, I know there are other people who do it, especially children, but you're the first real grown-up person I've met who does it.'

‘We're a special breed. And I'm not really a grown-up.' She winks.

‘You're not?'

Auntie Norah shakes her head.

‘Do you remember what happens when you sleepwalk?'

‘Most things.'

‘So do I. Mummy says that's not normal. She says you're meant to forget everything. But I remember it, like it's a film playing in my head. It was while I was sleepwalking that I first met Mrs Fox.'

‘Well, I can understand why your daddy might be worried about you walking out of the house on your own.'

‘Was he worried about you too?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘When you lived with us, before I was born, was he worried when you went sleepwalking?'

‘Yes, he was.' Auntie Norah's chest heaves. Willa tries really hard not to look at her boob pushing into her T-shirt.

‘And did you used to find the keys?'

‘The keys?'

‘To the windows and doors? Daddy and Mummy hide them but I always find them.' It's as if, when Willa sleepwalks, she hears a voice, a ghost voice, telling her exactly where to look.

‘Yes, I always found them.' Auntie Norah tugs at her T-shirt. ‘You said there was a second reason Daddy doesn't like you to come out and look for the foxes.'

‘Oh, because of the accident. And because he doesn't want the foxes to come back again.'

‘
Again
? They came back after the accident?'

‘Mummy thought it was Louis who'd dug up her flowers, but flowers make Louis sneeze so he stays away from them. So I camped out in the lounge overnight and kept watch through the glass doors to see who the flower-killer was.'

‘And it was a fox?'

Willa nods. ‘I went out to the gooseberry bush and saw Mrs Fox. And baby foxes, four of them, small as the palm of your hand.' Willa cups her hands to show Auntie Norah.

‘I stroked them and they wriggled a bit but they didn't wake up. They were really little and really sleepy. Anyway, I was going to sneak them back up to my bedroom but Louis barked his head off and woke Mummy and Daddy and Ella up, so I didn't get the chance.'

‘And you weren't worried Mrs Fox might hurt you – after what happened when you were a baby?'

Willa sighs. People never get it. ‘I told you, it wasn't her fault. She was scared.'

‘Right.'

‘Plus, I loved the little foxes,' Willa said. ‘They were so fluffy and curled up and alone looking – and I was worried their mummy wouldn't come back.' Willa takes a breath. ‘Mummy let me keep them for twenty-four hours, before Daddy called the RSPCA. Mrs Fox ran away because I'd touched her cubs so Mummy got some tiny bottles from the hospital that they use for babies that are born early, and we filled them with milk and fed the little foxes. I asked Mummy if we could keep them but she said it was best not to, that foxes were meant to live in the wild.'

‘Did you ever see the mummy fox again?'

Willa nods. ‘That was the worst thing. She kept coming back to the gooseberry bush to look for her babies. I wish I'd never touched them – it was my fault she ran away.'

When Willa told Mummy that they should get the baby foxes and bring them back, Mummy shook her head and said that the mummy fox wouldn't want them any more, because they'd smell wrong. Willa didn't understand what smelling wrong had to do with anything. Mummy explained that when you belong to someone you smell of them, and that because the foxes had been away from their mummy and lived with Willa and Ella and Mummy and Daddy for a while, they'd smell like they belonged to them. Willa hoped she'd always smell of Mummy.

Auntie Norah blinks and her eyes go misty. ‘That's quite a story.' And then she tries to smile, one of those strained smiles people use when they're trying not to cry. Willa doesn't understand why she's so upset. She wishes Mummy were here: Mummy's good at making people feel better when they're sad.