Violet Ink (18 page)

I'm
sitting on the bottom of the stairs and listening to Mum and Charlie's mum (apparently, her name is Marianne) talking about ‘the situation' in our kitchen. After weeks of telephone conversations, Mum invited her over to our house so that they could talk properly and work out how they should deal with Alex and Charlie. I've been sent off to do my homework, but there is no
WAY I'm missing this. Mum won't tell me what Marianne says and if Alex's baby is going to dominate my entire year then I definitely want to know what's going on.

Mum's made coffee and brought out the best biscuits; I think she's going all out to impress Marianne and make her think we're a ‘nice' family. I don't think she knows that the red top and brown trousers that she put on just before Marianne arrived show that she's moody and anxious and likely to be easily annoyed. Marianne, on the other hand, is wearing a crimson-coloured shirt that shows she's a bit threatening and will demand to be listened to. There could be fireworks. So far, they've only talked about completely boring stuff like the weather and work and, bizarrely, the rising cost of fuel. Very strange. Now though they've sat down with their drinks and I can sense that they can't put it off any longer. Alex and
Charlie are making their uncomfortable presence felt, even though they're hundreds of miles away.

‘Have you heard from Alex recently?' asks Marianne, diving in and getting straight to the point.

Mum sighs. ‘She wrote a few weeks ago, and she's written a couple of times to Izzy. I spoke to her on Sunday night as usual, but the line was crackly and there's always people around at her end – I couldn't really get a lot out of her.'

‘At least she writes to you,' says Marianne, and I can hear that she's trying to find something positive to say about Alex. ‘Charlie hasn't written once – not if you don't count the miserable note he left us when they ran off, which I do not.'

There's a bit of quiet while they both slurp their coffee and then Mum takes charge of the conversation.

‘The reason I thought it'd be better to get together to chat is because Alex is talking about them staying in Switzerland. For good.'

‘I know,' says Marianne. ‘Rob's been keeping me up to date. He's done his very best to show them how difficult it would be, but he says that they seem determined. It's a problem. The last thing any of us want to do is to make life harder for them, but I just don't think they've addressed
the reality of their situation. They're still playing at being grown-ups and when the baby arrives they're going to be in for a nasty shock.'

‘I agree,' says Mum. ‘And I can't pretend I'm not hurt about how they've dealt with it all. Running away without talking to us. I lie awake at night wondering what I did to make Alex treat me like that.'

There's the sound of a cup being put on the table and I imagine Marianne reaching across and holding Mum's hand.

‘You mustn't blame yourself,' she tells Mum. ‘It's happened and we all just want them to take some responsibility and start working out how they can make this work in the real world.'

I hear Mum sniff and then clear her throat, as if she's trying not to cry.

‘There are so many ways that this doesn't have to be a disaster for them. But they're going to need to ask for help – acknowledge that they're in too deep and can't do it alone.'

‘Completely, which is why we have to be strong. Nobody ever said that being a mum was easy, and I don't know about you, but I'm kind of missing the stage when all I had to worry about was grazed
knees and temper tantrums and arguments about watching too much TV.'

They both laugh and the tension flowing through the open kitchen door seems to ease a little bit.

‘I've contacted school and they've said that they can help Charlie get a place at university for next year. He'll have to retake the exams he missed and there'll be a little bit of extra coursework, but they said that with his predicted grades, and his excellent conduct up until now, there shouldn't be a problem. A blip, that's what the head teacher said to me.'

There's a silence again and then Mum answers, her voice sounding slow and careful like she doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

‘And the baby? Is that going to be just “a blip” for Charlie, do you think?'

‘Oh, that's not what I meant! We'll do everything we can to support Charlie, to help him take responsibility for his actions. We're trying to see this whole awful experience as a life lesson for him – that everything he does has a consequence and that he needs to face up to that.'

‘Hmmm.' Mum is making her thinking sound. ‘Yes, that could be a good option!' She's starting to sound enthusiastic. ‘I know that they both had
offers from the same university – Alex could do the same and they could rent a little flat. There'd probably be some childcare available through the university and they could share the rest. It wouldn't be the same experience that their friends will be having, but it could work. That's a fantastic suggestion, Marianne!'

‘That wasn't quite what we've been thinking about though,' says Marianne, her voice so quiet that I have to lean forward to catch everything she's saying. ‘Oh, just imagine it. They'd have no sleep and no time for fun – it'd be all work and no play. Not the university experience we wanted for Charlie at all.'

‘Well, no,' replies Mum, her voice now a tiny bit louder than before. ‘But we've agreed that they need to take responsibility. It was you that mentioned “life lessons” a minute ago.'

‘But the price you're suggesting is just too high!' says Marianne and I can hear a hardness in her voice. ‘I'm not sure you fully understand our situation here. Charlie is a top student. He's set on being a doctor and there's no reason why he won't achieve that goal. A goal we've all been working towards for a very long time, incidentally. But the pressures of medical school are huge.
There's no way he could cope with a screaming baby at the same time. It's out of the question!'

‘So who's going to be looking after this screaming baby while Charlie skips off to university?' I can tell that Marianne has just pushed Mum into very dangerous Mum-mode. Her voice sounds totally polite, but there's an undercurrent of menace that makes the hairs on my arms all stand up on end.

‘Alex, of course,' says Marianne, sounding surprised. ‘I'm sure you'll agree that one silly mistake with a daft girl is not a good enough reason to ruin the rest of Charlie's life.'

I hear a chair scrape back across the floor and tense my body, half hoping that Mum isn't about to thump Marianne and half hoping that she doesn't let her get away with making such terrible comments about my sister. There's a click of heels on the tiles and I scuttle further up the stairs just in time as Marianne walks out of the kitchen and to the front door, Mum just behind her. She turns to Mum as she opens the door, one hand on the handle.

‘Don't worry, we'll make sure that Charlie keeps in contact and it goes without saying that his father and I will contribute to the upkeep of the child.'

‘That
won't be necessary,' murmurs Mum and I can tell she's using every bit of her self-control to stop herself from slapping Marianne.

Marianne steps on to the path and Mum watches her go. When she's about halfway down, Mum calls out and I wonder if this is when she's finally going to let rip.

‘There
is
one thing you can do for me,' she shouts and Marianne stops and turns, looking towards the door. ‘You can do whatever it takes to get my little girl home again.' Marianne holds up a hand in acknowledgement and trots off to her car.

‘My silly, daft little girl,' mutters Mum, but Marianne is in her car and doesn't hear her.

Mum stays at the door to watch her leave, as if she's making sure that she's definitely gone. Then she backs inside and closes the door.

‘Did you hear all of that?' she asks me without turning round.

‘Yes,' I say, hoping that she doesn't yell at me for eavesdropping.

‘Good,' she says, turning and looking up the stairs at me. ‘We need to discuss something very important and I need to explain a few ideas I've had. I want to hear what you've got to say too – this is going to be a Family Stone decision.'

She
gestures me down the stairs and into the kitchen. The plate of posh biscuits is still on the table. Mum sees me looking.

‘She was on a diet,' she tells me. ‘I should have known then that we were in for trouble. Never trust a woman who won't eat a luxury biscuit, Izzy – remember that.'

She clears away the coffee cups and grabs two glasses and a carton of orange juice. She puts them on the table, pushes the biscuits towards me and tells me her idea. And we talk and I make suggestions and, for the first time since this all started, I feel like we're back on track, back as a family.

Dear Mum,

I've put on so much weight – I wonder if you got this fat when you were pregnant with me.

I'm avoiding Charlie today because he's in a really bad mood. Are ALL boys totally unreasonable? He had a big chat with his Uncle Rob last night and he's been grouchy ever since. I'm trying to ignore him and hope he snaps out of it. I suppose I'm finding it a bit hard because I've never seen him being grumpy, not
before we came out here anyway. I guess we didn't actually know each other as well as we thought we did.

I know that in an ideal world we'd have had time to get to know each other properly before we had to deal with things like money and jobs and heartburn and backache. We haven't GOT time though – every day is another day closer to being parents. I'm really excited about meeting our baby, but I'm starting to feel a bit worried too. How will we know what to do? I don't have a clue about how to look after a baby. What if I get it wrong? I've tried Googling it, but it's all really confusing and there's loads of choices. Some people say you must have a strict routine, other people say go with the flow; some sites go on and on about how, unless you're a planet-killer, you MUST use cloth nappies, but I've looked at them and it means you come into close contact with an awful lot of poo. I don't want choices any more – I just want someone to tell me what to do.

Charlie's mum isn't helping at all. Last week
she sent him a prospectus for the university that he'd got a place at. What was the point of doing that? We missed our A levels when we came here – he can't go to uni now, can he? She wrote him a letter too and he wouldn't let me read it, but I snuck a peek over his shoulder and saw that she'd written something about it ‘not being too late'. I don't understand why she'd write that. Even if he did retake the exams, the baby is still going to be here. It's still going to need looking after. He's still going to be a dad, whether he likes it or not.

Sometimes I wish more than anything that I could sit down with you at our table in the kitchen and talk to you about everything. I've got a million questions to ask you – things about how I'm feeling and giving birth and the baby. Things that I don't know how to say in French. Even if I did I haven't got anyone here who I could ask, not even if my French was fluent.

I know that I really hurt you a lot when I left without telling you what was going
on. I'm really grateful that you phone every week, but it's impossible to talk to you properly and I miss you. I expect you'd like to be around when your first grandchild is born, wouldn't you? Even if you are still mad at me. Even though you'd have wished for a different situation, I know you'll love our baby.

I feel it moving all the time now – it's really exciting and I wish I hadn't cut you out of all of this. Charlie is trying hard, but our room is tiny and I've got nobody else to talk to and we never have anything new to tell each other because nothing ever happens here. I spend most days cleaning and tidying our room (which doesn't take long) and when Charlie gets back I want to talk, but he's really tired and just wants to sleep.

Anyway, don't worry about me – I'm probably just in a grouchy mood. Charlie would say it's the hormones talking. (I don't think he's quite worked out that I want to push him in the river when he says stuff like that to me. He'll learn!) The weather is rubbish too and my suntan has completely washed off.

I
just can't talk to you properly on the phone – I'm sorry if I sound distant. I feel a long way away from you right now and it's making me homesick.

Love you forever,

Alex xxxx

PS I saw the doctor again and he said the baby is definitely due at the end of November. So it'll be here for Christmas!!!