The Mummyfesto (29 page)

Millie turned to me with a solemn expression on her face. ‘There’s summat I want to know about Jesus and the cross,’ she said.

‘OK,’ I replied, bracing myself for an awkward question.

‘Well, where did they get all the nails from?’

I tried very hard to keep a straight face. Clearly this had been troubling her. I was glad Rob was at the studio because I was quite sure he would have told her ‘B & Q’.

‘That’s a good question, Millie,’ I said. ‘Only I’m afraid I don’t know the answer. Maybe you should ask your teacher at school.’

Millie looked at me with a frown, seemingly disappointed that I should have reached adulthood without knowing the answer to such questions.

‘It’s only a story anyway,’ said Zach, who until that point had been sitting quietly on the front step with his head in an astronomy book. ‘Jesus wasn’t real. Like God isn’t real.’

‘What makes you say that, love?’ I asked.

‘Well, you and Daddy don’t believe in God.’

‘No. But we’ve always told you that you’re to make your own mind up about what you believe in.’

‘And I have,’ said Zach.

‘Can I go and play indoors with Millie?’ asked Oscar, cleared bored with the philosophical nature of the debate.

‘Of course you can, love. If that’s OK with Millie.’

‘Yeah. May as well. Nowt to do out here,’ she said.

Oscar manoeuvred his chair to the foot of the ramp.

‘How many buses are you jumping over this time?’ I asked.

‘Twenty-five,’ he replied. ‘It’ll be a new world record.’

Oscar managed to get himself to the top and I stood behind him to watch him over the drop.

‘Woo-hoo,’ I said. ‘Didn’t even touch them.’ Millie, who had seen it all before countless times, followed him in.

Zach sat back down on the step again with his book. He opened it then shut it again and looked up at me. ‘I know there’s not a God,’ he said, ‘because if there was one, Oscar’s muscles would work properly, wouldn’t they?’

I sat down on the step next to him and gave him a hug. Letting his pain seep into me and join mine.

‘If it’s a birthday party, does that mean there’s going to be cake?’ asked Oscar.

‘Let’s wait and see,’ I replied as we pulled off the cobbles on to the main road.

‘You must know,’ said Zach, ‘you helped to organise it.’ You really couldn’t get anything past him.

‘OK, there’s going to be a huge great birthday cake in the shape of a number two with icing and everything.’

‘Can I blow the candle out?’ asked Oscar.

‘Sorry, love, we’ve already chosen a little girl to do that. Her name’s Amelia. It’s her birthday today as well, you see. And she’s also going to be two.’

‘Is she going to die soon?’ asked Oscar.

He wasn’t being nasty. He understood what the hospice was about. ‘She’s got liver disease, love. She needs a new liver because her own one doesn’t work properly. She’s on the list for a transplant. That means if someone else dies and their family donates the liver, Amelia could have it put into her and get well again.’

I could almost hear the cogs going around in Oscar’s head. The fault-lines had appeared in my heart before he even said it.

‘They don’t do leg transplants, do they?’ he asked.

‘No, love,’ I said, trying hard to stop my voice from cracking. ‘I’m afraid not.’ I glanced over at Rob. He pretended to be concentrating on driving, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was hurting every bit as much as I was. I only wished he could find some way to show it.

It was only the third time he’d been to the hospice. He usually found some reason to get out of it, but he knew how much today meant to me. Besides which Oscar had insisted he come because it was ‘a family day out’ and he was part of the family.

The roads were quiet, even the Ainley Top roundabout, suggesting lots of people had already got away for the
Easter holidays. When we pulled into the car park in Huddersfield we were clearly amongst the first ones there.

Rob went around to the back of the people carrier, opened the door and started unclipping the various belts which secured Oscar’s chair. Zach climbed down from his seat next to Oscar and ran around the back to help me with the ramp and the winch.

‘Ready for take-off,’ shouted Oscar.

‘Chocks away,’ I replied.

It was a well-rehearsed routine, but fortunately one that Oscar never tired of. Nor did he tire of coming here. The way he gazed around at the specially adapted playground in awe made me wonder what he’d be like if we ever saved up enough money to take him to EuroDisney.

‘Can I have a go on the roundabout before we go in?’ Oscar asked.

‘Go on then,’ I said. ‘Zach will come with you.’ He didn’t need asking either. He was already running over to the roundabout. I watched them. My boys playing together at a playground. Taking turns, arguing over what to go on next. Like brothers should. Only it was all too rare to see it.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked Rob.

‘Yeah, fine. Bit big for the swings, that’s all.’

‘They like it here.’

‘Yeah. I can see that.’

‘It’s good for Zach, too. When they can play together like this.’

He nodded.

‘It’ll be fine, you know. Inside I mean. It’s a party, remember. Everyone’s going to be happy.’

‘I know.’

‘I appreciate you coming, anyway.’

He nodded. Managed a bit of a smile. ‘Not often we get the chance to spend an afternoon together, is it?’ he said.

‘No, I guess not. Anyway, look, I’d better go in and see if there’s anything I can do to help. You can let them play for a while longer if you like. It doesn’t start until two.’

‘OK. We’ll see you in there.’

I waved to Oscar and Zach as I made my way across the courtyard and into the main building. Simon was wandering around in the foyer smiling at nothing in particular and fiddling with the buttons on his suit.

‘Nibbles,’ I said.

‘Sorry?’

‘You could always put the nibbles out if you’re stuck for something to do.’

‘Er, right, yes. Thanks, Sam. Actually, I’d better go and run through my speech again.’

I smiled at him. Simon didn’t do practical. But at least I’d stopped him wearing the floor out.

I walked along the corridor to Marie’s office and stuck my head around the door. ‘Oi, you,’ I said, catching sight of her at the computer. ‘This is a party, you’re not supposed to be working.’

‘Rotas won’t wait for owt,’ she said.

‘Well at least come down for the cake-cutting,’ I said.
‘I think Simon’s going to need a bit of moral support for the speech.’

‘OK, but I shan’t stop long. You know parties aren’t my thing.’ I nodded. I suspected she didn’t even approve of the party taking place, what with finances being so tight.

‘It’ll be good for everyone, you know, to be reminded of how much we’ve done. Why we’re all here. Why no one should try and take a single penny away from us.’

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ she said, still sounding unconvinced.

‘Right, well I’d better go and do my meet-and-greet bit. See you for the cake.’

I made my way back down to the foyer, someone had put the nibbles out. It was a safe bet it wasn’t Simon.

It was only as I stood amongst the assembled guests later, waiting for Simon’s speech that the enormity of it all hit me. All these people whose stories I knew, some with their children, some whose children were no longer here, but all of them a part of this place. Not just because of their children’s names carved in glass bricks in the memorial wall, but because of the love which had cemented the whole thing together. The love that supported people, held them up when they were in danger of falling and propelled them through the next second, minute, hour of a day they hadn’t thought they would be able to bear.

I swallowed hard. It was impossible to believe that just over two years ago this place hadn’t even existed. Had all these people really come through our doors only in the past twenty-four months? So many precious moments: of
a step forward, a breath taken, a smile to be remembered. And it begged the question what would they have done without us? And what would the next round of parents do if we were no longer here?

I glanced down at Zach and Oscar who were deep in conversation about the exact size of the piece of cake they would be having. I felt it more keenly than ever. The fact that I was lucky to have them. I was so aware that although this was a celebration of Sunbeams’ first two years, there were many people here today who would find it difficult to celebrate. Who would smile and raise a glass for us, but who inside were still full of hurt and loss and grief.

Simon stepped up onto a small podium and called for hush. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see so many friends here today,’ he began. Despite his nerves he was a good speaker. His words were full of warmth and comfort, shared hopes and shared heartache. I let them wash over me, tuning out at the parts which I knew would push me close to the edge, allowing them to penetrate again only when I was sure I was strong enough to hear them.

I glanced at Rob. He was staring very hard at a picture on the far wall. His face expressionless. Perhaps not realising how much that gave away to me.

‘When are we going to have the cake?’ Oscar whispered.

‘Very soon,’ I said. ‘You’re doing really well.’

At the end of the speech the cake was brought out and Amelia’s father carried her forward in his arms. Clearly she was no longer strong enough to be able to walk. A cheer went up as her father helped her cut the first slice.
I caught Rob’s eye as I turned around. He tried very hard to smile, but he simply couldn’t.

It turned out
Newsnight
didn’t need me to go down to London, only to the BBC studio in Leeds. Which was just as well, as Zach had been particularly clingy since the hospice party. And whilst I was disappointed not to get the chance to meet Paxman in person, it at least got me out of having to tell the boys I wouldn’t be there in the morning. I’d never actually spent a night away from them. Quite a few people seemed to think that was weird – although admittedly most of those people didn’t have a child with a disability to care for. The fact was if I went away and anything happened to Oscar I would never forgive myself. And I wasn’t sure Zach would forgive me either. So I stayed.

The taxi arrived at the end of the road. I half expected Jackie to be outside taking a photo, she’d been that excited when I told her they were sending a cab for me.

‘Right, I’d better be off then,’ I said. I bent down and kissed Zach, who had been given special permission to stay up late to say goodbye.

‘Don’t forget to tell them I came up with the name the Lollipop Party.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ I smiled.

‘And see if you can sell him one of my pictures or at least mention the name of my exhibition while you’re at it,’ said Rob with a smile. I pulled a suitable face.

‘Text me afterwards and let me know if I came over like a blithering idiot, OK?’

‘I will, but you won’t,’ he said. ‘An opinionated, unhinged woman from Hebden Bridge maybe, but not a blithering idiot.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, kissing him. ‘Although I’m not sure what for.’

I sat in the reception area at the BBC studio wondering if that was the description of me they’d put up under my name on the screen ‘opinionated, unhinged woman from Hebden Bridge’.