Break the Child: Chapter Twenty: Linda, Come Quick

Chapter Twenty: Linda, Come Quick

Mum’s been okay the last few days. When I say okay, I mean that she hasn’t done anything off the wall, nuts. She zones out and zones back in again. One minute she’s my mum and the next she’s a scared and confused little girl and I feel like the mum. It’s like Freaky Friday here every day. The doctors have put her on some pills that she can take with the baby, but they make her sleepy. She sleeps a lot now. Things are happening fast, and the docs are doing everything they can to slow it down, but without the right meds, Mr Ball—that’s her consultant—says it’s ruthless.

             I had a dream. I watched her walking down a long, long road. It was straight, like one of the roads you only get in the country where you have wheat fields or crops on both sides and you feel as though you can walk down the same piece of road for ever. I can see her walking away from me. I call but she doesn’t turn around. I can see maybe a mile ahead of me, but I don’t really know how long a mile is. I know it’s enough to nearly kill me on cross country, so it’s a long way. She gets smaller but I can see her. I’m shouting her to come back but she doesn’t know what I’m saying. And I woke up crying, but I don’t know why. It wasn’t a bad dream or anything. Nobody was chasing her, and it was really pretty on that road. It looked all peaceful.

            You can so tell that she’s preggers now. This morning she put on a skirt and a really tight jumper and her bump was there. It was as if it had suddenly grown overnight. She forgets that she’s pregnant all the time and gets upset because she thinks she’s getting fat. And we remind her about the baby and then she gets scared and we have to calm her down. She’s wearing proper odd combinations of clothes too. It’s like dementia is a disease of really bad taste. She puts all these bright colours on and likes wearing clothes that are for night’s out, sparkly tops and stuff, just to doss around the house. Mostly she doesn’t wear make-up and I’ve hidden it now because when she does put it on, she uses too much and like her clothes it’s all bright colours that look mad on her.

            Baby’s kicking now. Mum’ll go, ‘Oh,’ in surprise and grab her stomach. Me and dad have both felt him. I talk to him all the time when I’m having a cuddle on the sofa with Mum and I tell her what he’s going to be like, just to remind her that he’s there, waiting for her. Dad says he wakes her up at night. He said that last night she sat up and stroked her tummy and said, ‘Hello baby, I’m your mummy,’ so sometimes she remembers.

            The other day dad asked her if she’d thought of any names yet, everybody asks her that, but she never has. Dad likes the name Bradley, but I don’t. Mum thought about it for a minute and then said, ‘Katie’s a nice name. We’ll call her Katie.’

            Dad said, ‘You can’t call her Katie, love, we’ve already got one of those.’

And mum said,’ Have we? Oh.’ Dad tried to make it little. He went on to tell her that it was a boy and came up with some boy’s names. I could see that he was saying any name that came into his head just to try and brush what Mum had said about me away. I left and went to my room for a cry. Dad shouted me at the door and winked. I smiled to show him that it was okay, but it really wasn’t. He knew that it wasn’t.

            She keeps calling me Linda now. She thinks she’s a kid again and I’m her sister. It’s weird.

            When we first found out about the baby, I’d asked her for some proper bras. She said that I didn’t need them yet, and not to be in a rush to grow up. And then with the baby and then with the dementia it got forgotten and it seemed such a little thing that I didn’t want to bother her. But my boobs have grown again. It’s getting embarrassing. There’s only me and Holly Staples in our class, who still wear training bras.

            This morning Mum was good. Sometimes when she has a bad day with the sickness, it seems to help with the dementia, as though she’s too busy puking to remember to be crazy. Most people stop being sick, but Mum is still ill most days. And it’s not always in the morning either, it can happen anytime. Dad says the meds she’s on, mixed with the baby, make her nauseous. It must be horrible for her. She knew who I was this morning, and she made breakfast and she only burned the toast, broke a plate and put the milk on the cup shelf. Trust me, that’s pretty good. Dad cooks a lot now and I’d rather have Mum cooking mental than Dad cooking at all. We were talking about school and stuff and I grabbed my chance.

            ‘Mum?’

            ‘Hmm?’

            ‘I really need a bra.’

            She looked at me and it was really embarrassing. I felt myself going red. ‘Oh my goodness, you do, don’t you? And then suddenly it couldn’t wait until Saturday when I’m off school. She got all manic about it, but not crazy, that’s the difference. She was kind of normal, almost, but it was all a big hurry. I think she wanted to get me sorted out before she went off again. She said that I couldn’t go to school. She was beating herself up for not thinking about it sooner. It was a pretty big deal to me, but it wasn’t a national state of emergency. Mr Hunter said that the other day, when Lisa Brown got upset because she’d forgotten her homework. She was nearly in tears and Sir said, ‘Okay, don’t worry, it’s not a national state of emergency, just bring it in tomorrow. And he looked guilty for shouting at her and nearly making her cry. He’s fit when he goes all soft.

            Mum said that she’d ring Aunty Linda to come with us.

            ‘Can’t it just be the two of us? It’s a bit embarrassing having the whole world know that I’m buying underwear.’

            ‘It’s not the whole world, it’s just aunty Linda.’

            ‘I’d rather it was just us. You know some time to—’ I tailed off.

            Mum looked sad. ‘I know love. I know you would, me too. But you see, I don’t feel safe anymore. I don’t want to do anything to—embarrass you—while we’re out. I think it’s best if Aunty Linda comes, too. She made me ring her right then. But she wasn’t in. So, then I had to ring her at work. I told Mum that it was okay, there was no rush, but she was on one by then. When I was waiting for Aunty Linda to answer her mobile, I could hear mum saying Kate’s bra, over and over again so that she wouldn’t forget what she wanted to say. I put the phone on loudspeaker; we have to do that now when Mum’s talking in case she wants to know what’s been said when she forgets.

            ‘Hello Annie, what’s up? Are you okay?’

            ‘Can you come?’

            ‘Oh God, what’s the matter? What’s happened?’

            ‘I need you to come. Now. It’s urgent.’

            ‘Is Steve there? Who’s with you?’

            ‘No, he doesn’t finish work until Friday. I’m fine. Kate’s here with me and then I think somebody else is coming to be with me in a bit.’

            ‘Put Katie on, Annie,’

            ‘No, shut up. I have to say this. Let me talk,’ she was getting a bit rattie. She gets frustrated a lot. ‘You need to come shopping with us. Kate needs some bras. It’s urgent.’

            I heard Linda give this big sigh of relief. ‘Sweetheart. I’m at work. I can’t get out right now and Kate needs to go to school. We’ll go on Saturday, okay?’

            ‘No, it’s not okay. Kate’s not going to school. She’s got these—’ she paused, ‘—breasts, I can’t believe that I haven’t seen them before and she needs a bra, now. If you won’t come, I’ll have to go by myself.

            ‘Mu-um,’ I said, and I knew I was as red as a beetroot.

            ‘Annie, Annie, whoah, slow down, it’s okay. We’ll get Katie sorted. You’ve told me now, so it’s okay. You can let it go and I’ll remember for you. I’ll see if I can finish at twelve and we’ll go then. I’ll pick you up.’ I got on the phone to Aunty Linda and promised her that I wouldn’t let Mum go anywhere and that she’d be fine until she arrived. I said that I’d tell Helen that we don’t need her today. I was embarrassed again when Aunty Linda said that she’d bring a tape measure with her.