I Have No Secrets Read online

  I wish so much that I could smile at her, reassure her, tell her it’s fine. It’s enough that she’s here.

  ‘Don’t worry so much,’ Donna tells her. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Jodi continues, giving me another brief, awkward glance. She shuffles anxiously on her chair. ‘Like last time – I could think of loads to talk about before I got here, but now I am, it feels so much harder . . .’

  ‘You’re getting yourself worked up,’ says Donna. ‘Don’t upset yourself. Just start talking.’

  Jodi’s face crumples. She looks even more like me for a moment. She’s going to bottle it. I can see it in her eyes. She’s going to get up and leave.

  ‘Why don’t you come closer and hold Jemma’s hand?’ Beth suggests. ‘I think Jemma would love that – and you don’t need to talk at all unless you want to.’

  Jodi’s shoulders seem to relax. She smiles gratefully at Beth, stands up and moves her chair closer to mine.

  She looks at me, her eyes still frightened, but there is warmth in them. I can see it. I can feel it.

  ‘I’d like to hold your hand, Jemma,’ she tells me.

  She touches and then she squeezes gently. Her hand is soft and smooth and warm. It feels a similar size to mine, although mine is bony and clenched.

  I feel a weird sense of connectedness – it is different from anyone else who has ever held my hand. This is my sister – my twin.

  A waitress comes and takes our order for drinks. Jodi orders a smoothie and Mum orders me an apple juice, asking for a straw.

  Jodi says nothing, but I don’t mind. Mum was right. I want her to talk at some point – I want to know all about her – but right now it is enough that my sister is holding my hand.

  40

  ‘What hobbies do you have?’ Beth prompts Jodi. ‘Maybe you could tell Jemma about them.’

  I’m so glad Beth’s here. Donna is nice, but Beth’s calmness and suggestions are definitely helping.

  ‘Oh . . . well . . .’ says Jodi, ‘I told Jemma some stuff already in my letters . . . I like reading.’ She starts off looking at Beth and then at Mum. ‘My favourite authors are John Green and Suzanne Collins. I’ve just been reading Paper Towns. It’s about a guy who goes on a road trip to find a girl. It’s brilliant.’

  ‘We read to Jemma a lot,’ Mum tells Jodi. ‘We’ll have to look out for that book.’

  ‘I can lend it to you,’ says Jodi.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ says Mum. ‘Maybe you could even read some to Jemma, yourself ?’

  Jodi’s face lights up. ‘Yes – I’d love to!’

  I like the sound of the book. It’s not the kind of thing I usually listen to, but I’d love Jodi to read it to me.

  ‘I’m quite sporty too,’ Jodi continues. She’s still talking mainly to Mum, but I can forgive her because at least she is talking now.

  ‘I play hockey for the county. Maybe you could bring Jemma and come and watch one day?’

  I know nothing about hockey, but watching Jodi play would be really cool. If I wasn’t disabled would I have been sporty too? It’s not something I’ve ever thought about.

  ‘That’s great,’ says Mum. ‘I’m sure Jemma would love to.’

  The waitress comes at that moment with our drinks.

  ‘Do you want to give Jemma her drink?’ Mum asks Jodi.

  Jodi frowns. ‘No . . . I . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to spill it down her or something . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry. Just watch me,’ Mum tells her.

  Jodi lets go of my hand and Mum comes closer, pushing the straw carefully into my mouth.

  ‘I could hold the glass now, if you like?’ says Jodi. Mum passes it to her.

  Jodi’s face is close, very close to mine. I like that she’s giving me my drink, the way she’s focusing every ounce of her attention on me.

  Mum shifts her chair a little further away and begins to chat to Beth and Donna.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else I like,’ Jodi says, putting my glass down carefully on the table. She clasps my hand in hers and carries on. ‘Do you want to know my favourite band?’

  For the first time she is talking directly to me and not partly through Mum.

  ‘I totally love Glowlight,’ she continues. ‘Have you heard of them?’

  My heart almost stops beating. She loves Glowlight – just like me. And Sarah – poor Sarah. I wish I could speak – I wish I could tell her all about the concert, about Sarah going missing.

  ‘I wanted to go to their last concert a few weeks back, but I couldn’t get tickets. I’d love to see them live one day.’

  She is still talking – now she’s started she can’t stop. She’s telling me about other bands she likes, some I’ve heard of and some I haven’t – but I am thinking only of Glowlight. I can hear their lyrics in my head.

  ‘Shall I tell you more about me?’ she says.

  ‘Yes!’ I want to say.

  ‘So, I was adopted when I was eight months old, but I’ve always known. Maybe you’ve been wondering why my mum and dad didn’t adopt you too?’ Jodi says anxiously.

  ‘Don’t worry, that’s pretty obvious,’ I want to tell her.

  ‘I think it’s because we had different needs. That’s right, isn’t it, Donna?’

  ‘Sorry – what?’ Donna says. She’s been chatting to the others and not listening in, which pleases me.

  Jodi repeats her question.

  ‘Yes, Jemma. Jodi’s parents never met you. You went to separate foster homes as your needs were very specialised. People who want to take in children who need special care like you need special skills – like your mum.’ She smiles at Mum. ‘You both have parents who love you – that’s what matters, isn’t it?’

  I wish we had been able to stay together, though I realise what she’s getting at. If we had, no one would have adopted both of us. At least on her own, Jodi had a good chance. And Mum and Dad are long-term foster parents so it’s not really different from being adopted. I couldn’t ask for better parents than them.

  ‘I think it’s awful that we were split up,’ Jodi says to me. ‘My mum said the social worker told them they should tell me about you, but they decided not to. She said she realises now they did the wrong thing.

  ‘Anyway, I bet there’s loads you want to ask me and tell me! I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be not being able to speak. I think I’d go crazy. I mean – I’m not saying you’re crazy, you know that – don’t you? I just mean it must be hard. I hope they get something sorted for you soon.’

  She’s right. I am going crazy inside – and she doesn’t know half of what I need to say.

  Mum stands up and comes nearer. ‘How’s it going?’ she asks.

  ‘Great,’ says Jodi. ‘Thank you so much for giving me another chance.’ Jodi is reaching into her bag. She pulls out her phone. ‘Can you take a picture of us?’

  ‘What a lovely idea!’ says Mum. ‘I’m sure Jemma would like one too. I’ll take one with my phone.’

  Jodi pulls her chair round beside mine, clutching my hand. Mum clicks away. I am delighted. I will have a photo of me and Jodi. I hope Mum will put it by my bed. I’m sure she will.

  It’s horrible saying goodbye to Jodi and I want them to arrange another day to meet, but Jodi says we will and I believe her. And there is another nice surprise when I get home. Sheralyn’s back. She’s feeling better, thank goodness, and Mum is still looking so tired. Sheralyn isn’t Sarah – but she’s a great improvement on Rosie.

  Sheralyn reads to me. She has a nice reading voice, but she’s not as good as Sarah. Sarah gave each character a different voice and she read with such expression I used to wonder if she’d ever tried acting. I think she’d have been good.

  Mum printed the photo of Jodi and me, and now it is by my bed. I thought it might bother me that Jodi is beautiful and I am not, but when I look at the picture all I see is the likeness. She is what I was meant to be – what I really am inside. Se
eing her I feel as if I am that beautiful. It makes me feel stronger. It’s hard to explain, but I never imagined before that even if I wasn’t disabled that I would have looked so lovely. Now I can imagine it and instead of feeling sad that I am not the same as her, I feel happy. I almost look as if I am smiling in the picture and Jodi is definitely smiling.

  Olivia comes to look at it.

  ‘I wish I had a sister,’ she says.

  I feel sorry for her. I want to say, ‘But I’m your sister, Olivia. We’re a family – you, me, Finn, Mum and Dad.’

  Olivia picks up the picture and holds it close to her eyes. I want her to put it back. I feel protective of it and I’m scared she’s going to scrunch it or even tear it.

  Sheralyn comes in.

  ‘Maybe I’ve got a sister too, like Jemma,’ Olivia says.

  ‘Maybe,’ says Sheralyn. She sounds doubtful.

  ‘Can you find out?’ Olivia demands. ‘I want to know.’

  ‘I’ll ask your mum,’ says Sheralyn, ‘but I think someone would have told you if you have a sister.’

  Olivia puts the photo down on my bedside cabinet – but she’s laid it down flat so I can’t see it. I panic. I feel an urgent need to see it, to keep it visible – as if Jodi might cease to exist or cease to be my sister if I can’t see the picture of the two of us. I might wake and find it was all a dream. Sheralyn is my lifesaver – she notices and stands it up for me.

  ‘Come on, Olivia – off to bed now,’ says Sheralyn.

  41

  I’ve been on a high since meeting Jodi. I enjoyed swimming at school yesterday, especially as the water was warmer than last week. Then in the changing rooms I overheard my teacher asking Sheralyn if there was any news about my carer and I felt pangs of guilt. How can I even be happy for a second when Sarah is still missing? Last night I heard Dad tell Mum that Richard’s been released and I’m relieved about that, though Kate still thinks he did it. She thinks they just didn’t have enough evidence to charge him. Everyone’s so focused on Richard now they’re missing the truth. They’re not thinking about Dan.

  Today Sheralyn’s gone to college. I’m ready for school, but my transport hasn’t turned up. Mum phones and discovers the minibus has broken down.

  Finn’s transport came and luckily Dad was still here so he’s taken Olivia. Mum says she’ll take me to school herself.

  She is pushing me out of the front door when the phone rings inside. She sighs, pulling me back a little and then pushing me forward. I can’t see her face, of course, but I can tell she’s not sure whether to take the call or not.

  She pulls me jerkily back inside and I hear her footsteps down the hall – running to pick up the phone.

  ‘Oh!’ Mum sounds like she’s walking towards the front door. There is real surprise in her voice – so much so that I actually wonder for an instant if it is Sarah herself calling.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. We got your letter, of course, but July – it is so far away . . .’

  Professor Spalding! Why is he phoning?

  ‘Really?’ I hear Mum say. ‘Is he? When would that be?’ There’s a long pause. It seems to go on forever. Then finally she says, ‘Yes, I’m sure that would be fine.’ And there’s silence again, but I can hear that she’s taking notes.

  A few minutes later Mum is back, pushing me out of the door again.

  ‘Well, it’s good I took that call, Jemma,’ she says. ‘The researcher from Israel who has created the sniffing technology decided at short notice to come to a conference in England this week and Professor Spalding says he wants to meet you.’

  What? I can’t believe this. He’s actually here?

  ‘Mr Katz would like to try his sniffing equipment with you. He wants us to meet him tomorrow!’

  The waiting room at the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery is big and busy. Hospitals to me always mean long waits. Mum gets a coffee from the machine so she is clearly thinking the same.

  ‘I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, Jemma,’ Mum says quietly. ‘If this doesn’t work, don’t worry – we’ll keep trying until we find a way. Technology is developing and changing so fast.’

  From a look at her face, I can see the hope in her eyes. I heard the high-pitched excitement in her voice when she came off the phone yesterday. She does believe it – I’m sure she does. But do I? What if I can’t do it – or I can’t master it quickly enough and they decide it won’t work? Will they give me a chance to practise?

  Nurses with lists have been calling people, but then I see a man in a suit with dark hair, tanned skin and a beard come into the waiting room and look around.

  He spots me. I see his eyes stop and his bushy eyebrows go up. He walks confidently towards us.

  ‘Jemma Shaw?’ he asks, looking at me and then Mum. He has a strong accent and a serious expression. I wish he’d smile. Maybe he doesn’t think this will work either.

  Mum stands up quickly and introduces us.

  ‘Alon Katz,’ the man says, nodding at each of us and then holding his hand out to Mum. ‘Please follow me,’ he tells us.

  He heads off through the double doors and along a corridor, into a small room.

  ‘I am sorry it is a little tight for space in here,’ he says as Mum awkwardly parks me between a chair and a desk.

  Mum sits down on the chair beside me and squeezes my hand as Mr Katz picks up glasses from the desk and puts them on. In front of him is what looks like a thin plastic tube with some bits sticking out of it.

  ‘This is it,’ he tells us. ‘This is the sniff controller. It is still in the research phase, you understand. We have had success using this equipment with patients suffering paralysis following accidents, even with some who were thought to be in a vegetative state. We have not tried it though on someone with cerebral palsy, and my colleague Professor Spalding thought you would be an interesting case for me.’

  I can’t see Mum’s face, but I wonder if she is as surprised as I am. I expected some complicated machine or something – not just a plastic tube.

  ‘We attach this with these sensors just inside the nostril,’ he explains. ‘The other end can be attached to whatever a person is trying to control – a computer, a communication device, even movement of a wheelchair.’

  ‘Really?’ says Mum. ‘It looks so . . . simple.’

  I see what I am sure is a slight smile behind the beard of Mr Katz.

  ‘First, I will check your ability to control your sniffs,’ Mr Katz says, approaching me. He has the tube in his hand. ‘This won’t hurt –’ he tells me – ‘but it may feel a little odd at first, having something in your nose. The sensor is only tiny, though.’

  He leans very close into my face. I can feel his breath, hot against my cheeks. One hand is on my chin, holding my head steady. I wish my head would stop pulling away from him. He might think I’m objecting, but it’s just my body not behaving. I want to try this. I really do.

  He stands back. My nose does feel strange – a bit tickly. I hope I don’t sneeze the thing out.

  ‘We will attach it to this computer,’ says Mr Katz, fiddling with the other end of the tube. ‘Now you see this on the screen? This line here will move when you sniff. Try a small sniff, Jemma – in through your nose.’

  Oh brilliant. I feel so nervous I think I’ve forgotten how to sniff !

  ‘In through your nose,’ he repeats gently.

  I must – I must. I can do it – he must see I can do it. I sniff. The green line bounces on the screen. I did it! I made that happen. I do it again – even though he hasn’t told me to. I want to see the line move.

  ‘Good . . . good,’ he says slowly. ‘Now try a bigger sniff.’

  I do it – and straight away the line soars up the screen.

  ‘There.’ He grins – and I think this is the moment he is sure. The little sniffs might have been accidental, but this time he knows it is for real.

  ‘Another big one, please,’ he asks.

&nbs
p; The line soars again.

  ‘Now a small one.’

  This is easy. I can do this – I really can. I can make things happen!

  I practise this a bit more and then Mr Katz presses a few keys on the keyboard. The screen with the line disappears. I feel disappointed. I could have kept doing that all day. I was making the line move. I was doing it myself. I don’t want to stop now.

  There is something else on the screen.

  ‘On this screen you will see two words,’ he tells me. ‘YES on one side on the green background and NO on the other side on the red.’

  He points to the words. I want to say, ‘I can read – I don’t need you to point,’ but I try to stay calm.

  ‘You will see the cursor here is constantly moving from one word to the other, every few seconds? I will ask you a question. You will sniff when the cursor is on the answer you wish to give. OK? Big sniff when the cursor is where you want it.’

  This is my chance to communicate. This is it! What is he going to ask me?

  ‘Do I have a beard?’

  What?

  It takes me a moment to take his question in. He is very still. So is Mum. I can hear them both breathing. I must stay calm. I can do this. I already know I can.

  I wait for the cursor to move. I do a big sniff.

  ‘YES,’ says a loud woman’s voice.

  I lurch inside. I didn’t expect the computer to actually speak the word. The YES on the green side of screen is flashing too. But it is the voice that I can’t get over.

  ‘Good. Let’s try another one. Is the wall in this room red?

  The cursor is on NO. I am worried it will move to yes before I manage to sniff. I sniff quickly.

  ‘NO,’ says the voice.

  I am ready for it this time, but still enthralled to hear it.

  I have a voice.

  42

  Mr Katz asks a few more questions – crazy questions like ‘Is the sky blue?’ and ‘Do dogs have six legs?’ Then he asks, ‘Do you like the sniff controller?’

  I do a big sniff for ‘YES’. Then two more. ‘YES. YES.’

  Mr Katz smiles a proper smile, then.