The Mummyfesto (9 page)

‘You mean we’re going to go viral?’ asked Jackie.

‘I don’t know about that but I expect there’ll be a fair few watching it online later and retweeting the link.’

‘Oh God. Now I’m nervous,’ I said. ‘I’d been imagining Oscar and Zach as the only audience.’

A young woman poked her head around the door. ‘OK, ladies,’ she said. ‘If you can follow me through to the studio. You’re the lead item on the programme.’

‘Lead?’ whispered Anna. ‘I thought we’d be the And Finally spot.’

‘What do you think the ukulele kid’s doing here?’ I whispered back.

We took our seats on the sofas. Shirley waved at Fiona and Derek the presenters as if she were a lifelong friend. Derek, very sweetly, waved back. The bright studio lights glared down on us. I looked down at my DMs, aware they were not the normal attire for sofa-TV interviews. They looked even worse sandwiched between Jackie’s trendy wedges and Anna’s sleek courts. I glanced across at Jackie. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her nervous before. As the countdown to air began, all I hoped was that we wouldn’t make complete fools of ourselves.

‘Hello everyone,’ boomed Derek. ‘Welcome to Calendar with Derek Masters and Fiona Gould. Here’s what’s making the headlines this Tuesday evening.’

‘Saved from the axe,’ said Fiona. ‘The lollipop ladies across Calderdale whose jobs have been saved by parent power.’

I grinned at Jackie as Fiona and Derek continued with the rest of the headlines. We’d made a difference. We really had.

‘Now,’ said Fiona, sitting down on the sofa next to us
after they’d run a report showing clips of the stop the traffic protest and an interview with the council leader who insisted, of course, on talking about school-crossing-patrol personnel rather than lollipop ladies, ‘we have with us in the studio the three women behind this campaign and the lollipop lady who inspired it. Shirley, had you any idea how much you meant to the pupils and parents at your school?’

‘Not a jot,’ replied Shirley. ‘I mean they’re all lovely to me and the children give me hugs and that but I were gobsmacked when they told me what they were planning to do. And when I saw the turnout on day of protest, well …’ Shirley’s voice trailed off. She turned to smile at us. I swallowed hard.

‘So, Sam,’ said Fiona, ‘it was your sons who gave you the idea for this campaign, wasn’t it?’ I resisted the fleeting temptation to give one of those little mum waves to the children watching at home and attempted to sound über cool.

‘That’s right. As soon as Oscar and Zach found out about the plans to get rid of Shirley they said we had to do something, and they were right. You can’t just stand by and watch things like this happen.’

‘Now, Jackie, we saw you in the clip there marshalling the troops with your loudhailer. Had you done anything like this before?’

‘Not really. I’d been on political protests as a student, but I’d never organised something as personal as this, something where children’s lives and people’s jobs were at stake.’

‘And Anna, were you surprised that a bunch of angry mums could actually force the council to do a U-turn?’

‘Not really, no. Hell hath no fury like a woman whose child is in danger. There’s no greater motivation to do something and therefore there’s no limit to what parents like us can achieve.’

Fiona appeared a little taken aback by Anna’s assertion. She wasn’t the only one.

‘But you heard what the council leader said in our report. They’re going to have to find the savings needed from elsewhere now.’

Jackie jumped in to answer before I could open my mouth to say anything.

‘Unfortunately this has all been caused by the government cutbacks, but what we’ve got to ensure is that politicians of all parties have the right priorities when making difficult decisions. And I think we’ve shown them that no one puts children in danger without having an enormous fight on their hands.’

‘So what next?’ asked Fiona, turning back to me. ‘Having won this battle do you fancy trying something a bit bigger? There’s a general election coming up in a couple of months, do you fancy having a go at sorting the country’s problems out as well?’

I glanced across at Anna and Jackie, still marvelling at how eloquently they’d put our case. They were fired up, I could see that. Almost as fired up as me.

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘I think we could make a damn sight better job of it than some politicians.’

‘There you go,’ said Fiona, ‘sounds like it’s a case of watch this space. Well done, all of you. Back to you, Derek.’

The producer had already briefed us to stay seated on the sofa until they went to the next report. To be honest she needn’t have bothered. I suspected I was not the only one who was incapable of moving.

Jackie stared at me with a questioning frown. Anna had the scared eyes of one of those passers-by who are caught up in some kind of political riot they never meant to get involved with. And here we were, effectively kettled on the Calendar sofa, everyone’s brains whizzing a bit too much for their own liking. Only Shirley provided a picture of serenity as she gazed dreamily at Derek.

We were given our cue to make a swift exit and passed the businessman with the booming company in the corridor as he made his way to the studio.

‘Great stuff,’ he said, putting his thumb up in a rather awkward fashion. ‘Really inspiring. I’d certainly vote for you.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled, aware that the others were looking at me as if I’d finally lost the plot.

‘Well you kept that quiet,’ said Jackie with a smirk, as we waited while Shirley popped to the ladies.

‘What?’

‘The fact that you were planning to declare we were standing in the general election.’

‘I didn’t know she was going to ask the question, did I?’

‘I take it you were joking,’ said Anna.

I thought long and hard before I answered. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I was.’

Zach and Oscar were both in bed by the time I got home. Oscar had apparently declared himself far too excited about seeing me on TV to possibly go to sleep, but had succumbed nonetheless. Zach was still awake though. He never went to sleep until I was home, not that I went out that much. It was like some strange role reversal of an anxious parent listening out for their teenager’s key in the door.

His head lifted as soon as I opened his bedroom door a crack.

‘Night-night, love,’ I whispered, bending to kiss him softly on the forehead.

‘You were brilliant, Mummy,’ he said, his arms around my neck pulling me closer.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’

‘Oscar was really happy that you said our names.’

‘Good. I had to, didn’t I? It was all your idea.’

‘Are you going to sort out the country’s problems now, like the lady said?’

I smiled. ‘I don’t know, sweetie. I’d love to but I don’t want anything to get in the way of being mummy to you and Oscar. That’s my most important job.’

‘We don’t mind. We’d share you for a bit. So you can help other people.’

‘That’s really kind of you, love,’ I said, stroking his hair. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it, though. I’d have to stand
for election and get lots of people to vote for me. Thousands of them.’

‘I’d vote for you.’

‘I know you would. Unfortunately you can’t vote until you’re eighteen, though.’

‘Well, I’d get grown-ups to vote for you, then. I’d explain how you’re good at helping people.’

‘That would be great.’

‘You should try, Mummy. You always tell us that we’ll never know if we can do something unless we try.’

‘You know, Zach, you talk a lot more sense than most of the grown-ups I know,’ I kissed him again on the forehead. ‘Now, you get some sleep. It’s very late.’

‘Love you, Mummy.’

‘Love you too.’

I closed the door quietly and crept back down the stairs. Rob had a cup of tea waiting for me on the kitchen table.

‘Thanks, love,’ I said. He looked up at me from his copy of
NME
, his head propped up on his hands, an expression of bemusement on his face.

‘You were being serious, weren’t you?’ he asked. ‘About standing in the general election.’

I nodded. ‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but I always knew that.’

I smiled. ‘I don’t quite know exactly how or what yet. All I know is that I can no longer just sit here and do nothing.’

‘How far do you want to go, exactly? On the scale to world domination, I mean.’

‘I don’t want to dominate anything. I just want to try to make things better. To shout about all the things that are wrong and get them put right.’

Rob nodded slowly, ran his fingers through his mousey hair.

‘And how are you going to find time for this? We hardly see each other as it is. You put in far more hours than you’re paid for at the hospice and what with the governors’ meetings at school, not to mention looking after Oscar. Jeez, there’s going to be nothing left of you.’

I looked down at the quarry tiles, which were cracked and needed replacing. Not that we could afford it, of course. I wasn’t used to Rob doing serious. I knew this was an enormous ask. He was right, we didn’t spend enough time together as it was. And it had taken its toll on us over the past few years. It was probably only the fact that we’d been so bloody strong in the first place which had kept us going. And now here I was wanting to throw a huge bloody grenade into our already stressed lives and expecting Rob to be OK about it.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I know this is going to be really tough on you and I don’t want Oscar or Zach to suffer in any way because of what I’m doing. But nor do I want them to grow up in a country where they’re the soft targets. Where the government says, “Oh yeah, we’ll cut services for kids because they can’t complain or vote us out.” I want to do something that will make this country a better place for them to grow up in. Them and every other child who lives here. And if I don’t do it I’m not sure anyone else will.’

Rob stared at me as my eyes misted over. I thought I saw him swallow. He shook his head.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘It still does my head in sometimes. How bloody brilliant you are.’

I grinned and threw my arms around him. ‘You mean you don’t mind if I give it a go?’

‘No,’ he said, kissing my shoulder. ‘Just so long as I don’t end up as Denis Thatcher.’

‘That will never happen,’ I said with a smile. ‘You hate golf for a start. And I don’t possess a handbag for you to carry.’

‘Is Grandma going to talk to me today?’ asked Alice.

We were on our way to see Mum. I hadn’t taken Alice with me since Mum had come out of hospital. Mainly because she’d been so upset after she’d visited her there. But then yesterday Alice had asked why she never saw her any more. And the guilt had got me from the other direction.

‘She was only quiet when she was in hospital, love. It was because of that medicine they gave to her to calm her down.’

The ‘medicine’ in question was actually an antipsychotic drug. I’d gone ballistic when I’d found out. There was no medical reason to put her on it. She was agitated because she was losing her mind and had been taken to a strange place. It was an entirely natural response. What she needed was love and familiarity and security. Not a bloody chemical cosh.

‘So is she cross and bothered again?’ asked Alice. ‘You said they gave her the medicine because she was cross and bothered.’

I sighed. How did you even begin to explain this to a six-year-old?

‘She was cross and bothered in hospital because she wasn’t at home. She was confused. And when people are confused they can get a bit angry.’

‘So isn’t she confused now?’

I turned off the main road through Boothtown and began making my way left, right and left again through the narrow roads of terraces which I knew so well. I pulled up as near to number 52 as I could park and turned to reply to Alice.

‘She is still confused, love. But not as badly as when she was in hospital. Just her normal confused because of the disease we talked about.’

Alice nodded. She didn’t seem at all sure. I got out and went round to open her door.

‘Tell you what, love,’ I said as I helped her out. ‘If you want to go at any time you just tap me on the knee and I’ll know, OK?’

‘OK,’ said Alice.

I knocked twice and then let myself in with the key.

‘It’s only me, Mum,’ I called out. Alice was holding on to my left hand very tightly. We slipped our shoes off on the mat and went through to the front room. Mum was sitting in her armchair. The first thing I noticed was that she had two skirts on; a beige pleated one poking out
from under a mauve floral one. She had teamed them with a yellow, short-sleeved blouse. You could quite clearly see the goosebumps on her arms.

‘Hello, Mum,’ I said, bending to give her a kiss. ‘I’ve brought Alice to see you.’

I waited, willing her to say something positive. Or at the very least not to ask who Alice was.

‘Hello, dear,’ she said, smiling in Alice’s direction. I ushered Alice forward. She planted a kiss softly on Mum’s cheek before retreating back to the sofa.

‘Your arms feel cold, Mum,’ I said. ‘Where’s your cardi?’