The Secrets Sisters Keep: A heartwarming, funny and emotional novel (The Devlin Sisters Book 2) (25 page)

C
lara was having
another meltdown about going to school. I was late for work and was completely exhausted from the stress of the past week. I just wanted to lie down and for all of this awfulness to go away. I wanted to turn the clock back and for it to be me and Clara, happy, content in our little bubble.

Now all of those awful words were spinning around my head – Asperger’s, autism spectrum, cognitive flexibility, modulating tone of voice and gestures … My head felt as if it was going to explode. I wanted everyone to see Clara as I did – perfect. And now my baby was going to have to go through all these tests and therapies and I hated it. I bloody hated it. I was furious with the world for doing this to her. Furious that people saw her as different when they should have seen her as exceptional.

‘
Noooooooo
, Mummy, not school. I want to stay here with my books,’ Clara shrieked.

‘Come on, darling, the school is lovely and they have lots of books there too. You can bring your bird books with you, if you like.’

‘
Nonononononononono
.’ She ran into her bedroom and locked the door.

‘Clara! Sweetheart, you must come out. Mummy’s going to be late for work and you’ll be late for school.’

No reply.

The doorbell rang. I’d told Christelle not to come this morning, but maybe she’d forgotten. I opened it. Gavin was standing there, holding a plastic bag.

‘What do you want?’ I snapped. ‘I really don’t have anything to say to you.’

‘Seriously, dude, build a bridge and get over it.’ He pushed past me.

‘Now is really not a good time. I’m trying to get Clara to school.’

‘Judging by all the screaming I just heard, she’s not too happy about it.’

I crossed my arms. ‘Well, it’s a new school and she doesn’t like change.’

‘What little kid does? Where is she?’

I pointed to her bedroom. ‘She’s locked herself in.’

Gavin walked over to the locked bedroom door. ‘Hey, Clara, it’s Uncle Gavin.’

‘I’m not coming out.’

‘Fine by me. I just came over because I got you this cool bird book. It’s all about really unusual birds. I bet you’ve never even heard or seen pictures of these birds.’

‘I know all the birds in the whole world.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Gavin opened the book. ‘Do you know the Tufty Puffin?’

‘It’s Tufted Puffin and, yes, I do. They can fly underwater with their wings.’

‘OK, Miss Smartypants. What about comorpants?’ Gavin winked at me.

‘They’re called cormorants. They are also known as Phalacrocoracidae.’

‘Well, look who swallowed a dictionary.’

‘No, I didn’t! You can’t swallow a dictionary. You would choke and die.’

‘Well, if you don’t come out, I’m going to eat this bird book.’

‘
Noooooo
.’ The door opened and Clara tried to grab it from him.

‘Hold on a minute. You can have this book if you get dressed and go to school on time. I want you to continue to be the cleverest kid I know. You have to go to school to get cleverer. I’ll pick you up later and we can read the book together. I promise I won’t eat it if you go to school. Deal?’

Clara nodded. ‘OK.’

Gavin put out his hand. ‘That’s my girl. Give me a high-five.’

Clara high-fived him weakly and went back into her room to put on the clothes I had carefully laid out for her.

‘Thanks,’ I said to Gavin.

‘No worries. How are you doing after that “fun” family dinner? Sorry I put my foot in it. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I’d been trying to say it to you for ages. I just couldn’t find the right time and I knew you’d freak out.’

I threw my hands up in the air. ‘She’s my little girl! Do you think it was easy for me to hear that?’

‘No, of course not. But we’re all just trying to help you. We love the little dude.’

‘I know. I’ve just had a really hard time accepting it.’

He punched me gently on the arm. ‘Hey, she’s still our little Clara. The same quirky, Einsteiny kid we’re all crazy about. That’s never going to change.’

I nodded. I was afraid of getting emotional again.

‘So, I’ve been doing some research and I made up this folder for you because I know you’re all into files and information.’

Gavin handed me a thick folder. I opened it. Inside was all the information I could ever have wanted about Asperger’s. He had written a cover page on why he suspected Clara had it and how we could best help and support her. Then, in colour-coded chapters, he had divided up suggestions for her care with useful approaches and programmes he had found out about to help her. He had sections on interventions aimed at helping her to develop social skills, strategies to teach her to develop more appropriate forms of behaviour with other kids, how to develop insight into social situations, how to make sure she was never bullied or socially isolated, how her family understanding her condition was vital in supporting her and helping her along the way …

I felt my throat closing. ‘Wow. This is incredible. Thanks.’

‘It took me and Shania ages, but I think it’ll help. I’ve made copies for everyone in the family. We’re in this together, Louise. We’re her family. Clara’s the coolest kid I know. She rocks.’

I was afraid to speak. The lump in my throat was now the size of a golf ball. I squeezed his arm and mouthed, ‘Thanks,’ again.

‘I know you hated us for saying it to you, but it’s said now, so let’s just get on with it. And if there’s anything I can do to help, or Shania, just call on us, OK?’

I glanced at my watch. ‘Are you free now, by any chance?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, I’m not in work until ten.’

‘Could you take Clara to school? You may have to sit with her until she calms down. I have a really important meeting, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.’

‘Go and kick some corporate arse. Clara will be fine with me.’

I went to tell Clara that Uncle Gavin was taking her to school with her new bird book. She smiled. ‘Oh, good,’ she said.

As I was rushing out of the door, I stopped to kiss my brother’s cheek. ‘You never cease to amaze me,’ I said.

He grinned. ‘At least this time it’s “amaze” in the good sense and not in the what-the-hell-is-he-doing-now sense.’

I laughed as I closed the door behind me, safe in the knowledge that my precious child was in caring and loving hands.

I
was reading
through a file when there was a knock on my door. It was Wendy. I hadn’t seen her since the day of the disastrous email. HR had dealt with her after that and I had just given written proof of her tardiness, mistakes and general lack of professionalism. She’d been on leave since then.

‘I’ve come to say goodbye. You won, Louise. I’m being let go.’

I put down the file and took off my reading glasses. ‘I didn’t win anything, Wendy, and I wish you the best in the future.’

‘God, you’re cold. I’m jobless with a kid to look after because of you.’

I could feel myself getting annoyed. ‘No, Wendy, you’re jobless because of your own incompetence. Take responsibility for your actions.’

‘I pity your child. Her life will be hell with a mother like you. She’ll never be good enough. If she’s not perfect, you’ll probably get rid of her.’

I gripped the side of my chair. ‘How dare you speak to me like that? You know nothing about my child because, unlike you, I don’t drag my problems into work with me and whinge all the time. You’re never going to get anywhere in life, Wendy, until you stop feeling sorry for yourself and blaming everyone else for your problems.’

‘You don’t know anything about problems. You and your perfect life make me sick. Normal people have shit to deal with and I really hope some day you get to see that first hand. It might just make you more human,’ Wendy shouted.

I threw my head back and laughed. If only she knew the lifelong problems I was facing. She had no idea of the mountains I was going to have to climb.

‘You’re a psycho!’ Wendy yelled, as she stormed out.

I laughed and laughed, to the point of hysteria.

B
y Friday morning
Clara was less reluctant to go to school and I had to sit with her for just ten minutes before I could go to work.

I had been up every night until the wee hours of the morning reading Gavin’s file and doing my own research into Asperger’s syndrome. The information was overwhelming, but I knew that knowledge would take away the fear I felt about it. As I read through the typical symptoms of Asperger’s, I realized that, regardless of how much I wished Clara didn’t have it, it was very likely that she did. In fact, if I was being honest, I knew she did. She had all the signs. Now it was just a matter of finding out how severe it was.

We were due to go back to see the psychologist, Colin Fitzgerald, the following Wednesday, but I had too many questions that just couldn’t wait. I needed answers now. I wanted to see Colin without Clara so that I could go through the list before our Wednesday session.

I called his secretary, Harriet, for an appointment, but she absolutely refused to be bullied or cajoled or even bribed – I was so desperate to see him that I had even offered to do any legal work she wanted for free.

‘Mizzzz Devlin,’ she almost spat down the phone, ‘I’ve had quite enough of your tactics. Mr Fitzgerald is a very busy man. You are not the only mother who is eager to speak to him. You will have to wait until your next appointment. Now, please refrain from calling this number again or the only legal help I will require is with getting a barring order.’

I hadn’t got to where I was in my career without being tenacious and bloody-minded. I was not to be deterred by someone’s secretary. I got a taxi over to Colin’s office at lunchtime and lurked about across the road in a coffee shop until I saw his old bat of a secretary coming out for her lunch break. I raced inside the building and went to burst into his office, but the outside door was locked. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was in there because I could hear him on the phone. So I knocked … and knocked … and beat on the door with my fists until he came out of his office, looking annoyed.

‘What on earth?’ He stormed across the reception area and unlocked the door.

‘Coffee?’ I said, smiling, as I swept past him and marched straight through to his office.

His desk was covered with open files. He hurried in after me. ‘I’m in –’

‘The middle of something. Yes, I can see that, but this won’t take a minute.’ I handed him a coffee and sat down.

He sat down opposite me and took a sip.

‘Two shot, skinny, extra hot latte. Is it OK?’

He smiled. ‘It’s very nice, actually. So, may I ask why you are trying to break into my office while my secretary is on her lunch break?’

‘It’s called desperation,’ I said. ‘I’m new to the emotion. I have never been desperate in my life, and yet here I am, unable to sleep, unable to concentrate in work and apparently unable to see that my little girl needed help.’ Christ, I was getting emotional again – what was wrong with me?

Colin rested his elbows on his desk. ‘Louise,’ he said gently, ‘the emotions you’re experiencing are all completely normal.’

I held up my hand. ‘They’re not normal to me. In fact, they’re completely alien. I hate feeling this way. I despise being out of control in a situation. I’m appalled by my lack of judgement regarding Clara’s behaviour, and I detest having to depend on other people for help and guidance. I’ve always done things on my own and never needed anyone. I cannot stand having to wait for appointments to have my child assessed. I want her fixed. I want you to fix her.’ My hands were shaking and spilling coffee on my trousers. I put the cup on the floor.

‘Louise, this is not your fault. This is nobody’s fault. But you need to understand that if Clara proves to have Asperger’s syndrome it isn’t something you fix. It’s something you learn to live with.’

‘But what kind of life will she have?’ I asked, needing reassurance. ‘Will it get worse? The Internet says so many different things.’

‘The key is prompt diagnosis, which is exactly what we’re going to do. Clara is only four so we’ve caught it very early and I believe we can help her significantly moving forward.’

‘But how bad is it? How bad will it get? Will she end up in a … in a home?’ I bit my lip to stop myself falling apart. My biggest fear was no longer that Clara wouldn’t be incredibly successful and happy. My biggest fear now was that when I died Clara would end up dumped in some awful home, which smelt of cabbage, where the minders were really mean to you and never stimulated you or were kind and affectionate to you.

Colin came around to sit beside me. He handed me a tissue.

I twisted it in my hand. ‘I never bloody cry. I’m the strongest person I know and the most resilient. Everyone comes to 
me
 with their problems and I fix them. But I can’t fix this and it’s freaking me out. Is it my fault? Did I not love her enough? Did I push her too hard? Did I make her do too many activities? Did I mollycoddle her? Did I over-stimulate her? Does she need a dad? Would that help? Because if it would, I’ll bloody well find one for her. Just tell me what to do!’

Colin sat back and smiled at me. ‘Going out and grabbing a random man to be a father figure to your daughter is probably not the best place to start.’

Despite myself, I began to laugh, albeit with a manic edge.

‘None of this is your fault. It’s quite clear that you love your daughter and have done everything to stimulate her clever little mind and to make her life as comfortable and stress-free as possible. Clara is a lovely child and I can see that she has been cherished. But you will have to be patient.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Not a strong point.’

‘Having seen you almost break into my office unannounced, I didn’t think it would be. But I’m afraid you’re going to need to work on that. There is a long road ahead.’

I sat back in my chair and exhaled. ‘It’s funny. I have no patience whatsoever with anything except Clara. All of her little quirks, her obsessions with time, birds, routine and all that, never bothered me. For some reason I do actually have great patience with her, but not with anything else. Can I hire you to work with her full-time? I don’t care how much it costs, I just want her to get the best help and apparently you’re the best.’