I Have No Secrets Page 12

  Paula’s phone beeps and she pulls it from her bag in relief and continues to look at it, touching different areas of the screen for what feels like a long time.

  36

  Sheralyn takes over from Paula, and Mum comes back after lunch. I’m not feeling much better. I feel so, so tired.

  Mum smiles as she sits down and I notice she has big bags under her eyes. I want her here – but I also wish she could go home and get some sleep.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here,’ says Mum. ‘I hope you were OK with Paula. Olivia’s getting herself into all sorts of trouble at school.’ Mum is scrabbling around in her bag as she speaks. ‘I’ve persuaded them to give her another chance, but I’m not sure she’ll be able to stay there if she keeps kicking off. More parents have been complaining.’

  Mum’s bag is bulging. An old shopping list, a pen and a lipstick fly out and she hastily retrieves them from the floor.

  I hope Olivia isn’t going to get herself chucked out of her school. I wonder what she did. I wish I could tell Mum what Olivia told me about Dylan.

  ‘Here it is,’ Mum says finally.

  It’s a letter. I see straight away that it is Jodi’s writing on the front. My heart starts thudding and my stomach churns. I don’t know what to expect or how to feel. Jodi has written – but what has she said?

  ‘I hope you don’t mind that I opened it first,’ Mum says. ‘I didn’t want to bring it if it was going to upset you. Not with you being so ill.’

  Mum pulls the letter out of the envelope.

  ‘Dear Jemma,

  ‘It’s really hard to write this, but I hate thinking how upset you must be with me. I’ll understand if you hate me and never want to see me again. I want you to know, though, that’s not how I feel about you.

  ‘I want to explain what happened – or try to at least. I think I had a kind of image of you in my head and I guess you didn’t look anything like I was expecting. I know your mum sent a photo, but until I saw you I had no idea how much you looked like me. I know we’re twins, but I just wasn’t expecting it for some reason. You must have seen that too – we are so alike!

  ‘You also – this sounds really bad, but I want to be honest – you look much more disabled than I expected. I knew you were in a wheelchair and that you can’t speak, but it was a shock to see you. ’

  I flinch as Mum reads this. She’s referring to the strange shape of my head, my gaping mouth. I don’t want to be a shock to look at, but there’s not much I can do about that.

  Mum continues.

  ‘I thought I’d just be able to start talking – I had so much I wanted to say I wasn’t worried about you not talking back. I’m quite a blabbermouth usually! No one else can get a word in. So I thought I would be OK.

  ‘I froze up, Jemma, and everything I wanted to say went out of my head. I felt so stupid standing there unable to speak. I don’t know where the tears came from, but once I started I couldn’t stop and I felt even worse so I had to just get out of there.

  ‘I want you to know that I do want to try again. You are my sister and I want to know you and for you to know me.

  ‘Please, please forgive me and let’s start over – please!

  ‘Love, Jodi x x x. ’

  My sister still wants to know me.

  The warm feeling spreads through my body – I can even feel it in my legs and arms and I can’t feel much there usually.

  ‘I can see that’s brought some colour back to your face!’ Mum exclaims. She strokes my cheek gently and touches my brow. ‘Yes, it’s not fever – just a healthy glow.’

  ‘When can I see her again?’ I want to ask Mum.

  She doesn’t tell me, but I will forgive her for that because I am so happy about the letter. I wish I could hold it, smell it, keep it. I don’t want Mum to fold it and put it in her bag. I wish she’d stick it on the wall beside my bed so I can look at it and read it over and over.

  I try to remember the words, as Mum puts her bag back on the floor.

  You are my sister and I want to know you.

  That is all I need. I say it over and over in my head. From her to me and me to her. I feel it. I live it. I don’t want to die. I don’t want Dan to kill me any more, even if it helps the police catch him.

  I feel the strength returning to my body all day. I want to see Jodi. I need to get well.

  37

  Mum calls Jodi and arranges for us to meet her on Sunday. It’s only two days to wait, but once I’m home all I can think about is Sarah. Her absence is like a wide open window through which a cold breeze constantly blows. I cannot feel warm and safe and happy – even knowing I will soon meet my sister again. What has happened to Sarah?

  Mum still looks stressed out – and worse, she says Sheralyn has a bad cold and won’t be able to help for a few days.

  After dinner Finn and Olivia go upstairs. Dad’s not back as he has a late meeting at work. Mum pushes me out of the kitchen, saying she’ll put the telly on for me while she gets them ready for bed. As we reach the living room, the phone rings.

  ‘Back in a tick,’ she tells me, sighing – and rushes off without even putting the light on, let alone the telly. I expect her to pick up the phone in the hallway and bring it back in here, but she must have taken it into the kitchen as her voice gets more distant.

  She must be speaking quietly. I can’t hear what she’s saying or work out who she’s talking to. I hear the phone click, but it rings again almost immediately. I only hear ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘I should think so’. Then ‘I’ll let you know if I hear anything’.

  I can’t believe Mum has left me here in the dark. I’m trying to hear her, but I get a sudden sense of someone behind me. I can hear breathing – loud breathing – as if someone is panting by the living-room door. My heart races. I’m not imagining it. Someone’s here.

  Has Dan got in? Was he waiting outside? He didn’t come to the hospital, but he’s here now! He’s used Sarah’s key to get in. He could have been in the house for hours – just waiting for the right moment.

  The breathing is coming nearer.

  ‘Mum!’ I want to scream. ‘Get off the phone! Get in here now!’

  He is right behind me. I feel my wheelchair jolt. What is he going to do?

  My chair jolts again. The breathing is still close – but . . . what’s happened? The sound of breathing is right underneath me – under my chair!

  There is a bang, bang against the right wheel. I suddenly realise – it’s Finn! Finn is under my chair, panting and banging his head against one of the wheels.

  I try to steady my breathing. This whole Sarah thing must be affecting him badly. He’s under my chair – wanting me to keep him safe, to make everything OK. He is trying to tell me how bad he feels. I wish I could do something – make everything better. I wish I could bring Sarah back.

  At last I hear Mum’s footsteps. But she doesn’t appear. I hear her feet thump, thump up the stairs. She thinks Finn’s up there. She’s forgotten about me altogether.

  She’s gone up. Finn’s breathing has slowed down, but I can still hear it. Mum’s feet are soon on the stairs again because she hasn’t found Finn.

  ‘Finn! Finn, love! Are you down here?’

  She approaches the living room and turns the light on. She gasps.

  ‘Jemma!’ As she comes round in front of me, I am shocked to see she is sobbing. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. ‘I’ve left you here in the dark! I completely forgot! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Jemma. I’m losing it. And I can’t find Finn.’

  She collapses on to the sofa, crying. I can’t bear to see Mum like this. If Mum falls apart social services will take us all away. It’s a terrifying thought. She has to get it together. She mustn’t let that happen!

  At that moment I hear Dad’s key in the door.

  He hears her sobbing and is by her side in seconds. ‘What’s happened?’ Dad says softly. ‘Have they found her?’

  ‘No, no – it’s not Sarah, it’s Jemm
a. I forgot her,’ Mum sobs. ‘I left her in the dark when the phone rang. I left her in the dark for about twenty minutes! And I can’t find Finn!’

  Dad sees him straight away. ‘That’s easy, love – look, he’s under Jemma’s chair!’

  ‘My God,’ Mum exclaims. ‘Finn, what are you doing there?’

  Finn doesn’t come out.

  ‘If Sheralyn can’t help, we’ve got to get the agency to send another carer,’ Dad says.

  ‘Other families have to get by without carers,’ says Mum.

  ‘Yes,’ says Dad, ‘but we wouldn’t have taken on the other two if we didn’t have that help with Jemma.’

  ‘I didn’t want to get someone else – Sarah . . . I thought she’d be back,’ says Mum, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ says Dad, though he doesn’t sound convincing, ‘but in the meantime we need someone.’

  38

  Dad has ordered Mum to take it easy and the agency carer arrives after breakfast. She is smiley and bubbly although her voice is a little loud.

  ‘Hey, this must be Jemma!’ she says.

  ‘This is Rosie,’ Mum tells me.

  ‘I can see we both like purple!’ Rosie says, beaming at me. She points to my cardigan and her purple top. ‘We’re going to get on just fine!’

  Sarah chose that purple cardigan for me. I feel a pang.

  Mum smiles at Rosie. ‘That’s great. I’m so glad you could come so quickly,’ she says. ‘Let me tell you a bit about Jemma.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ says Rosie. ‘The agency filled me in. And I have lots of experience. You can leave us to get to know each other.’

  ‘Good,’ says Mum. ‘Just call me if there’s anything you need.’

  There’s an awkward silence as Mum heads off upstairs.

  ‘I hear you like books,’ Rosie says. ‘I thought I could read to you, OK?’

  I am relieved, although she’s not quite speaking like a normal person.

  She goes to her big purple rucksack, which is on the sofa. ‘I always carry books with me!’ she says. ‘Hang on a tick – let me see what you might like.’

  I wish she’d just get the book that’s on my bedside cabinet, the one Mum’s reading to me.

  ‘Hey, this is a great one!’ says Rosie. The sing-song enthusiasm in her voice is already getting to me, but I will give her a chance. I look to see what book she’s holding. The size of it and the brightly coloured cover make me swallow hard. It’s a fairy-tale picture book. The Little Mermaid.

  This has to be a joke. No – she’s wheeling me close to the sofa so she can sit beside me.

  ‘I know you’ll want to see the pictures!’ she tells me, holding the book so it rests on my lap.

  No one has told her I have a brain. She also hasn’t thought to ask. I hope Mum will look in soon to check how she’s getting on and put her right.

  Mum doesn’t come. I have to endure The Little Mermaid read in a patronising voice with every picture pointed out. ‘Look there’s the mermaid! ‘Look there’s a crab!’ I don’t even like the story of The Little Mermaid.

  Finally it’s over. ‘Do you like music?’ Rosie asks me. ‘I bet you do! I’ve brought some with me, specially.’

  This sounds encouraging – though if it is Glowlight I won’t be able to bear it.

  She pulls out her phone and swipes a few times. ‘Here we go!’ I listen as the music begins. It’s a baby song – ‘The Wheels on the Bus’. This is utter humiliation. I am not a toddler in a teenage body, I am an actual teenager. I am fourteen!

  She begins to wheel me round in dance-like movements, jerking me uncomfortably and singing along.

  This is a nightmare.

  Then I hear a laugh. It is a raucous, jeering kind of laugh. As I am spun round I see Olivia standing in the doorway, laughing hysterically. The humiliation can’t get any worse.

  ‘Hey, do you want to join us?’ Rosie asks her. ‘We’re having a great time here!’

  ‘You might be,’ says Olivia. ‘I don’t think SHE is.’

  ‘No?’ Rosie stops still. She turns me round to face her and looks at me closely. ‘It’s hard to tell,’ she admits.

  ‘She’s not stupid,’ Olivia says.

  ‘Of course not,’ says Rosie. ‘But she –’

  ‘She’s fourteen. She likes teenager stuff – not baby stuff.’

  ‘Thank you, Olivia!’ I want to shout.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Rosie asks. ‘I thought bright colours and simple rhymes would be the right thing. I mean, how do you know what she likes or what she’s thinking when she can’t speak?’

  ‘I just know,’ says Olivia. ‘I know loads of stuff, actually. I like teenage stuff too. I nearly am a teenager.’

  ‘Really?’ Rosie is looking more and more uncomfortable. ‘So how old are you?’

  ‘Nine,’ Olivia says, ‘but I’ll be a teenager in only four years. I know loads of things that teenagers know – loads.’

  ‘OK,’ says Rosie. ‘So what do you suggest we do? What would you and Jemma – you teenagers – like to do now?

  Olivia looks thoughtful. I wonder what she’s going to come up with.

  ‘Watch telly?’ she says. ‘We can watch Fuzz Heads. There’s this really hot boy on it.’

  ‘Hot boy?’ Rosie repeats, wide-eyed. ‘I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Mum lets me watch it. Even Finn watches it and he’s six,’ says Olivia.

  ‘I’m not sure your mum will be happy to pay me to sit and watch TV,’ Rosie says doubtfully.

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ says Olivia. ‘I promise you.’

  I don’t like Fuzz Heads, but I am begging Rosie to agree.

  ‘OK – just for a few minutes,’ Rosie says.

  ‘Yay!’ says Olivia, plonking herself on the sofa.

  When Mum comes down with Finn I can see from her expression that she is not pleased we are watching TV.

  ‘I read to Jemma and played her some music,’ Rosie assures Mum.

  ‘Yeah – she put on nursery rhymes!’ says Olivia.

  ‘Nursery rhymes?’ Mum exclaims. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘I didn’t know . . .’ Rosie says. ‘I thought –’

  ‘No, you didn’t think!’ Mum yells.

  I am shocked to hear Mum raise her voice like this. It is so unlike her.

  ‘You have to leave. Now,’ Mum tells her, pointing to the door. ‘Jemma is an intelligent young woman and I cannot imagine how she felt. This is outrageous.’

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Rosie says, her sing-song voice gone and a feeble whisper coming out. ‘I really didn’t mean –’

  ‘Just go,’ says Mum.

  Although I am not keen on Rosie I actually feel sorry for her in that moment – and surprised at Mum reacting so strongly. I’d have expected Mum to be cross and to explain, but I thought she’d give Rosie a second chance.

  Once Rosie’s gone I see Mum grab a bar of chocolate from between two books on the shelf and wolf the lot.

  After dinner there’s a call from Kate. Dad answers, and he looks shocked when he comes back into the kitchen.

  ‘They arrested Richard yesterday,’ Dad tells us. ‘They’ve been questioning him and they’ve applied for permission to hold him for longer.’

  ‘Richard ?’ Mum says. ‘He seemed so nice and so genuinely upset when we told him she was missing.’

  ‘He was a bit of a mess, if you ask me,’ said Dad. ‘I’m still surprised, though.’

  The police have the wrong man! I am sure of it. And while they’re busy questioning Richard they won’t be thinking about Dan.

  39

  Last night I dreamed that Sarah came back – walked through the door as if nothing had happened. She said she’d lost her memory and she had no idea where she’d been for the last few weeks. She put me to bed as usual and turned me in the night. She smiled like she always did and I knew that everything was going to go back to normal. Everything was going to be OK.

  I woke this mor
ning and had that sinking feeling I always get now when I realise Sarah is still missing. I don’t think everything is ever going to be normal again. Then I remember that today is not a normal day – not even a ‘normal without Sarah’ day. Today I am meeting Jodi. I’m trying to wipe that first meeting out of my mind and just think about her last letter. The same thing can’t happen again – I’m sure. This time we are meeting in a café. My social worker, Beth, and Donna, the social worker who came to support Jodi last time, are going to be there too.

  The waiting was so awful last time that Mum’s decided we should be a few minutes late in the hope that Jodi will already be there. Either that or we are just running late anyway!

  Mum manoeuvres my wheelchair into the café. It’s big inside at least and not busy. I see Jodi with Donna and Beth, at a spacious table in the corner. She’s here. My tummy wobbles. Donna sees us and jumps up to move chairs so I can get near to the table.

  ‘Hi, Jemma. Come and join us. Come and meet Jodi properly,’ she says.

  Jodi gives me a quick smile and then turns away awkwardly. She looks stiff and terrified. I wonder if she is going to run off again.

  Everyone says hello. Beth comes and hugs me – I haven’t seen her for a while. She looks from me to Jodi and smiles, talking in her low, soothing voice. ‘I feel quite emotional seeing you together. You can certainly tell that you’re twins! I can imagine what a big deal this must be for both of you.’

  ‘I’m so glad you decided to come,’ Mum says to Jodi.

  ‘It was hard.’ Jodi nods. ‘I was just . . . overwhelmed.’

  She looks quickly at me and back to Mum. ‘I hope she doesn’t mind me saying that?’