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Post by mellochino on Sept 15, 2010 12:32:32 GMT
I liked this update, it's really sweet =)
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Post by sophie on Sept 16, 2010 17:44:41 GMT
Thank you! The next couple of days passed without note. On Monday morning Bridget put India’s birthday invitations into a bag and gave them to India when they were at the school gate. “No one’s here yet, Mummy!” “It’s okay, you can give them out when you’re in class. Oh, look,” said Bridget. “There’s Timothy and Jane.” Mrs Smithson and Timothy and Jane were approaching the gates but Mrs Smithson stopped when she saw Bridget and walked quickly towards the gate with her children, making to give a quick goodbye. “Hold on,” said Bridget, and she looked up, surprised. “I’ve – well, Indy has – got something for Timothy and Jane. It’s her birthday next Saturday and she’s having a party. We’d like them to come.” India stuck out two invitations and Timothy and Jane looked up at their mother hopefully and she looked hesitant for a moment and then nodded. Timothy and Jane took their invitations joyfully. “Thank you. I suppose so. Yes, they’ll go.” “Great,” said Bridget. “It’s from eleven until four and don’t worry, it’s nothing too fancy.” “They’ll still look their best,” said Mrs Smithson in a determined voice. “Well, thank you again. Goodbye, children. What do you say?” “Thank you,” said Jane and Timothy in a somewhat robotic manner but Bridget saw Jane nudge her brother when their mother wasn’t looking, and wink. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you can come.” Timothy and Jane hugged their mother and went into the school, and Bridget hugged her daughter too and watched her run ahead of the other children, so she was alone with Mrs Smithson. Bridget felt awkward and didn’t want to be intrusive, yet it seemed rude not to ask how she was. “How’re things?” she asked, hoping that it sounded friendly, yet when she had said it she thought that it did sound intrusive. Things probably weren’t that well but Mrs Smithson didn’t seem upset. “Fine,” she said smartly. “Goodbye,” she added, abruptly, and then strode off, her high heels clicking on the pavement and her handbag swinging slightly. Bridget watched her and then went back to her own car, with no heels or handbag to speak of, half admiring her for wearing them on a school run and half-thinking she was insane. Bridget leant more towards the second option. On Tuesday evening Bridget took India to Steve’s vet surgery before her prenatal class. It was raining but India didn’t mind and she leapt over the puddles in high excitement, her rain coat billowing out behind her. “Calm down, Indy. Uncle Riley’s not coming for another five hours.” “He’s coming tonight, he’s coming tonight!” she shrieked happily. “And he’s going to tell me about Button and the harbour and the bridge and I’m going to tell him about my birthday party and going to the church on your anni...anni...” India struggled to remember the word. “Anniversary,” Bridget told her gently. “Yeah, that! But more about my birthday.” “Your birthday’s not for another eleven days, sweetheart.” “Still nearly my birthday.” Bridget reached the vet surgery and went inside to find her father cleaning a table, having evidently just examined an animal. India craned around interestedly when she heard the various miaows and squeaks of cats and other animals. “Hey, Indy!” Steve said, swinging her up. “How’s my nearly seven-year-old girl? You’re going to be too big to swing up soon!” “I won’t!” pouted India. “Grandpa Steve, is that a new kitten?” She pointed at a cage. “Yes, she’s hurt her leg. Do you want to go and say hello?” India gave her mother her bag and hurried off to the cages to talk to the kitten. Bridget put the bag on the table and gave her father a quick hug. “How’re you?” “Good,” said Steve, grinning. “Riley’s coming back tonight and your mother’s cooking up a storm!” “You’re as excited as Indy!” commented Bridget, laughing. “She can’t wait to see him.” “Well, he’s our son,” said Steve defensively. “Of course we’re excited!” “I’m excited too,” said Bridget happily. “I’ve missed him and so have the girls.” “I bet.” Bridget still smiled but she wondered if her father ever found it strange or upsetting in a way when she brought up her other family. She wondered if she should have done so but Steve showed no signs of feeling hurt and instead gave Bridget another hug. “How’re you anyway, darling? What time’s your class?” “Fine and it’s at six. Is it really okay me dropping off Indy now? I could have driven to your place a little while later.” “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I’m not going to make your drive to our house when you’re eight months pregnant and anyway, I like any excuse looking after my favourite granddaughter.” “Good,” smiled Bridget. “Well, thanks. I guess I should be heading off and getting ready. I’ll come over for half past seven,” she reminded. “I know, darling.” “I just wanted to double-check. Indy, I’m going now!” India ran back and gave her mother a quick hug. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” Bridget said. “Be good and if Uncle Steve’s busy you be good and don’t pester him, okay? Read your book.” “I know, Mummy,” sighed India, with a look that seemed to say, parents. Bridget laughed and left, waving at them when she got to the door. She drove home as the rain lashed the windscreen and had a feeling that it was going to be an exceptionally wet winter. She supposed she should welcome the rain, they never had enough, but it made her feel sad, in a way. Still, thought Bridget, she’d sooner be pregnant in this weather than in blistering heat so she felt more cheerful as she got out of the car and walked as quickly as she could to the house, shaking some raindrops off before stepping in. Bridget wiled away the hours before Declan came home by half-heartedly tidying and watching some silly television. She was excited too and had missed her brother and wished that the class was already over and done and they were driving to her parents’ already, and Bridget stopped where she was dusting and smiled at the photo that stood in the hall of her and her brother at Nelson’s Cove all those years ago. She could remember it well. She smiled at it for a while longer, remembering, and then, suddenly, it was half past five and Declan was home and they were in the car on the way. Bridget felt more at ease this time round and, to her utter, utter relief, the childbirth film wasn’t shown again and she knew that Declan and the rest of the class felt the same – even those who had had three children. Bridget looked keenly around the car park before and after her class for evidence of misbehaving sisters but there were none. She wasn’t too surprised – she had a feeling that Clara wouldn’t want to risk any of it again in a hurry and also felt that she didn’t want to. She wondered, again, if she had told her mother yet. Bridget hadn’t spoken to either her or Josie that week yet but her gut told her that she wouldn’t have and her good mood evaporated slightly. At least it had stopped raining. “What are you so down about?” Declan asked her as they drove off. “Clara wasn’t here and Riley’s back tonight.” “I know,” said Bridget, and she made herself smile. “Sorry. I just wondering if Clara had told Joanna.” “If she hasn’t you can’t do anything about it now. And she might have done.” “I know,” said Bridget. “You’re right, I’ll stop worrying,” but she did, a little, on the drive there. The sun was already beginning to set. As they approached the house Bridget sat up a little in her seat. The bright yellow van was already parked outside and she knew it only belonged to one person. “You’re back!” she cried, when he opened the door to their knock. “And you’re early!” “Nice to see you too,” grinned Riley. Bridget gave him a small shove and went into the house. “Yes, of course it’s nice to see you! We would have tried to get back a bit quicker if we’d known – though I guess we couldn’t really have done, we drove straight from the prenatal class.” “Speaking of, you’re big as a house!” exclaimed her brother. “You can’t have more than a month left, you already look ready to burst.” “Thanks for that,” said Bridget, rolling her eyes, but she gave him a hug. “Yes, I do have over a month left. Lucky me.” Miranda came out into the hall and gave her daughter a hug too, a wide smile on her face. “Hello, darling! Riley’s early!” “She can see, Mum!” said Riley and it was her turn to roll her eyes. “You’re lucky it’s your first night back, young man. Bridget, do you want a drink of anything?” “No, I’m fine thanks.” “Riley?” “No thanks.” “Well, I’ll be in the kitchen.” Riley suddenly took Bridget’s arm and she looked at him, surprised. “Will you come outside with me?” he asked in a low voice. Declan raised his eyebrows but guessing that he wasn’t wanted, called, “Hey, Miranda, I’ll come and help!” and left them to it. Riley took Bridget’s hand and led her out into the garden, where there was a seat by the tree. She sat in it, confused, and Riley leant against the trunk. “Riley, what’s going on?” “I proposed to Marie,” he said in a quiet, excited voice. “She said yes. We’re engaged.” Bridget’s mouth fell open and she didn’t know what to say for a moment. She was glad to be sitting down. “Well?” he asked, anxiously, worried that she hadn’t launched into a congratulations. “What do you think?” “I...I...wow,” and that was all she could manage. “I...I...wow?” echoed Riley, incredulously. “Sorry, Ri. Wow. Congratulations.” “Thanks,” he said, and she looked at him standing against the tree in the falling dusk. It was so unlike her brother – Riley edged into things with caution, never doing anything on a whim. “I’m sorry I didn’t say congratulations before,” she told him. “It’s just so unlike you, Ri. It seems so sudden.” “I’ve never done anything impulsive in my life,” he said fiercely. “Not since Nicola, and we all know how wrong that was. This feels right. I love her, Didge. I really love her,” and Bridget looked down and smiled. She knew, she saw it in his eyes and heard the excitement in his voice. “When did you propose?” “Two days ago. I wanted you to be the first to know – I haven’t even told Mum and Dad yet. That’s why I took you out here.” “Oh, Ri,” said Bridget, and she got herself up and hugged him tightly. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” He grinned and went red and looked at the floor for a moment, as his sister did when she felt unsure. “If you’re like this, what’ll Mum be like?” he asked and Bridget laughed. “Awful. Five times worse than me.” “Well, I’ll let her be,” said Riley happily. “Mum deserves to go a bit crazy about it.” “She does, doesn’t she?” “But I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said again. “We’ve been through so much together. I wanted to tell you first.” “Riley,” said Bridget, touched, and didn’t know what to say so she hugged him again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more excited before.” “Bridget! Riley!” came a call from inside. “It’s ready now, what are you two doing out there?” They smiled and went in, Bridget still feeling in shock. Miranda had made roast chicken and potatoes and peas. They had eaten most of the first course, letting India talk excitedly about her birthday party and her plans for it, when there finally came a lull and Steve asked, “So how are you, Riley? Has anything exciting happened?” Riley caught his sister’s eye and she grinned at him, and he did too. Declan wondered and so did Steve and Miranda. “What is it?” Miranda asked suspiciously. “What are you two grinning about?” “Riley?” asked Steve in confusion and Riley took a deep breath and said, “I’ve proposed to Marie and she’s said yes. We’re getting married.” For a moment there was a shocked silence and then Miranda let out a loud, “OH!” and got up and ran around the table, locking her son in a death-grip of a hug. “Mum!” he gasped and Bridget laughed. “Oh, Riley!” Miranda cried in an unashamed flood of tears. “Oh, Riley! Oh darling, my little boy’s getting married!” “Ease up, Miranda!” said Steve, but Bridget saw him wipe at his eyes a little and she grinned at Declan. “Does this mean Uncle Riley gets an anniversary too?” asked India interestedly. “Yes, it does,” Riley told her over Miranda’s arm. “Mum, I need oxygen!” and she released him, wiping at her eyes. “Well, this means a celebration! I only made chocolate cake for dessert.” “That’s fine, Mum, that’s perfect. You know that’s my favourite.” “I made it especially. Well, Bridget, what do you have to say?” “She said wow...I...wow!” said Riley, before Bridget could open her mouth, rolling his eyes. “I told her in the garden.” “So that’s what you were doing,” said Miranda, but she looked a little disappointed that she hadn’t been told first. She had the grace not to say anything though Bridget noticed and said quickly, “He probably told me first so that I wouldn’t give such a stupid reaction at the table. Of course I’m thrilled. Does Marie know that’s she let herself in for someone who always leaves his plates on the side and wet towels on the floor?” “Yes,” said Riley, pretending to hit her. “You know, she’s neat enough for both of us.” Bridget bit back a retort, seeing how happy he was and Miranda couldn’t stop beaming. “This means champagne! Steve, go and dig it out.” “Yes Ma’am,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Bossy-boots, isn’t she?” “Hey, congratulations, mate,” said Declan, shaking Riley’s hand. “That’s great news.” “Miranda!” came a call from the kitchen. “I can’t find it, it’s not in the cupboard!” “Oh, let me!” Miranda threw her hands up and went to help. Bridget looked over and saw that India had engaged her father in some sort of clapping game, which he didn’t understand. India was telling him off and laughing and so she went to the door that led to the garden to get some air. Riley followed her. “So what else has been going on?” he asked her. “How’re Josie and Clara?” Bridget hesitated and looked down. “What’s she done now?” asked Riley in a weary voice. “Which one?” “Either.” “It’s Clara.” “What’s she done? Go on, tell me.” “You have to promise not to fly off the handle,” warned Bridget and, like she had done, he said, “That depends on what it is.” “Okay, try not to.” “Didge, just tell me.” So she told him and his mouth fell open like hers had done. “She’s worse than we ever were,” he said angrily. “What’s she going to be like at sixteen?” “Oh Riley, don’t get angry with her.” “Smoking at twelve!” he exclaimed. “Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to her lungs? And sneaking off to that boy’s house too.” “I know she was wrong. But I don’t think it’s becoming a habit.” “Oh, that makes it all okay then,” he said sarcastically and Bridget felt cross. “Oh, stop it. You know that’s not what I meant. Clara’s only trying to feel more in control.” “Maybe she should have less of it. Why didn’t you tell Joanna?” “Maybe she should talk to her mum about it herself,” said Bridget angrily. “It’s not about being given too much freedom, it’s about her feeling hurt and lied to and wanting to be grown up. Come on Riley, it’s not as if you were so squeaky clean when you were twelve. In fact, I distinctly remember seeing you smoke a cigarette by a tree with one of the boys from the home.” “I never knew you saw us,” he said in surprise and then defensively, “and that’s beside the point. I only smoked one – half of one – not a whole pack, and I’m not proud of it. It was a really stupid thing to do.” “Yes, but what I mean is that you can see where our sister’s coming from. Come on Riley, you can, can’t you?” she asked desperately but he still looked cross. They heard someone clear their throat behind them and turned around to see Miranda. They both blushed. “We found the champagne,” she told them. “You’re not arguing, are you?” They gave her quick smiles. “No, of course not.” Everyone except Bridget and India drank the champagne, who had lemonade. India was allowed a small sip of the champagne after begging. She took the the drink in her mouth, scrunched up her face and ran outside to spit it out in the grass. They laughed at her. “No taste for alcohol then.” “I should think not!” “Well, here’s to Riley!” said Miranda, and they all raised their glasses. “And to my future daughter-in-law!” “To Riley and Marie!” everyone chorused and they all clinked their glasses. “And do you know what this means?” asked Bridget, as India ran back in and Declan pulled her to him. “What?” “It means I do get to write the speech!” she said. “And complain about all those phonecalls!” They all laughed at her and when Bridget was alone in the room with Miranda she thought of her own wedding again. “Mum,” she said quietly. “Yes, darling?” “I’m still sorry I never invited you to the wedding,” Bridget said, feeling ashamed. “My wedding, I mean.” “It’s all right, Bridget,” said Miranda, putting an arm around her. “It was a long time ago.” “It was still selfish of us and I’m still sorry. I’d hate to miss Riley’s wedding.” “We’ve forgiven you,” Miranda said comfortingly. “We forgave you a long time ago, sweetheart.” “I know. I’m still sorry though.” “It’s okay,” said Miranda again and she gave her a hug, and then Riley and Steve came back from tidying the kitchen and Miranda launched into her plans again. Bridget looked across the room to her family, the best family she could ever hope for and to her brother who had always been there and always so quiet, always in his own world. Bridget couldn’t believe he was getting married, nor that he was grown up – something she felt she never would, yet she smiled over at him, caught his eye and had never been so happy for him.
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Post by Bee on Sept 18, 2010 15:52:36 GMT
very very very good sophie
Cant waitfor more
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Post by smilelino on Sept 19, 2010 10:38:40 GMT
I haven't been here for a long time. But your last few updates were amazing. I especially loved their annversary chapter. Thanks so much for updating it the whole time. I love this story and can't wait for more.
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Post by sophie on Sept 19, 2010 11:06:01 GMT
Thanks so much Lia and Lino!
The next evening Bridget and Riley set off to Joanna's, driving for most of the way in silence. Bridget had been looking out of the window but she turned and said, again, "Don't be angry with her."
"Huh."
"And don't get like that," said Bridget huffily. "You know, Clara's got a point, you act too much like her dad sometimes and not enough like a brother."
"I'm just looking out for her!" exclaimed Riley, annoyed. "I'm not here that much so I can't keep an eye on her that much –"
"You see, that's what I mean! She's your sister, not your daughter. She doesn't need you to be 'keeping an eye', she already has a mum and a dad. And if you get angry with her she won't talk about it. I think you're being too judgmental."
"I am not!"
"She's not a bad kid," said Bridget. "She's mixed up. She only wants to feel grown up, can't you remember what that feels like?"
"Yes of course, I just don't want her to be making the same mistakes we did!"
"No, me neither," said Bridget, and there was kindness in her tone, "but Ri, she's going to make her own mistakes and she just has. Getting angry with her won't help."
"Would you say that if it was India?"
"No, I probably would be angry, but that's because she's my daughter. Clara's our sister and she's going to get enough anger from Joanna and David, she doesn't need it from us too. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes," said Riley grudgingly. "And of course I don't want her to get in heaps of trouble, you know I don't. I just think Joanna should know.
"Well, if Clara hasn't told her by today I said I would," said Bridget uneasily and glanced out of the window again.
"Good," said Riley and she looked back up.
"I hope I don't have to."
"I will if you don't."
"Riley! It's not because I'm scared, it's just because I want Clara to talk to Joanna about it and I want Joanna to hear it all from her. She should."
"If you do have to tell her, Clara'll get over it," said Riley, but he didn't sound too sure.
"Hm."
They pulled up to Joanna's house and Josie, who had clearly been listening for the van, threw the front door open, raced out and hugged her brother tightly.
"I missed you!" she said, her face buried in his front.
"I missed you too," he said. "How's it been? They haven't been giving you a hard time at school have they?"
"No," said Josie happily, taking his hand. "It's been great. I've joined a baking club at school..."
Josie carried on talking about her latest hobby and new best friend and Riley listened politely and laughed at the appropriate places. Bridget looked up and saw that Joanna had come to the door too, and so had Clara, who was hanging back a little, but Joanna nudged her and obviously seemed surprised that she wasn't as excited as her sister, so Clara came towards them.
"I missed you too!" said Riley when Josie finally stopped for a breath and Clara gave him a smile, but a rather half-hearted one.
"I missed you," she said quietly, but she came and gave him a hug as well and they all walked into the house, Clara glancing up nervously at her brother when she thought no one was looking, obviously worried as to whether Bridget had told him about what had happened.
"So," said Joanna, when she had given everyone a cup of tea, even Josie, who had said she wanted to have one like everyone else. "What's been going on?"
"I proposed to my girlfriend," said Riley, who couldn't help but smile. "We're going to get married."
"Oh!" exclaimed Joanna. "Oh, congratulations!"
"Thanks," said Riley, happily enough, but he looked down and twiddled with his ring and it was a remarkably different atmosphere to telling Steve and Miranda, Bridget thought. Joanna looked like she didn't know what to say. She looked happy but worried, as though being too enthusiastic would be rude. Bridget saw that she had a little sadness in her face, and looked at her curiously, but Joanna shook herself and said, as Miranda had done, "I wish I had something more exciting for dinner now – it's only pizza."
"That's fine," said Riley quickly. "I know everyone here loves it. Josie, isn't it your favourite meal?" but she only shrugged and Bridget wondered what had made her upset. She saw her sip at the tea and make a face.
"The girls can have cola," said Joanna, "and I have some wine, but that's the only exciting drink I have, I'm afraid."
"Mum, can I have a glass of wine?" asked Josie excitedly and looked disappointed when Joanna shook her head firmly.
"You can have a sip of mine but that's it. You're much too young for alcohol, young lady. Both of you are," and Bridget saw the look of guilt on Clara's face and knew – though really, she thought, she had known already – that she had not told Joanna. Her heart sunk.
"I suppose I should get on with cooking it," said Joanna, getting up. "I'll let you guys catch up and we'll celebrate properly at dinner...congratulations, Riley."
On that awkward note they all headed up the stairs and into Josie's room.
"Are you really getting married?" she blurted out, putting her unwanted cup of tea on the bedside table.
"Of course I am."
"And you're staying in Sydney? You're not moving back here?"
"Yes, I'm staying there, but I would have anyway. That's got nothing to do with my getting married. Hey, you can be a bridesmaid!" but Josie still looked sad.
"I'm going to help Mum," she said and started towards the door.
"What about your tea, Josie?"
"It's gross," she said, still rather sadly. "I only had it because I wanted to feel grown-up too."
She sloped off downstairs. Riley frowned.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked quietly to Bridget.
"She thinks Marie's taken you away."
"But that's crazy," spluttered Riley. "I've lived in Sydney for years."
"Josie's too young to understand," said Clara loftily, but Bridget smiled to see her absentmindedly hugging one of her sister's teddy bears.
"Maybe. Anything you want to talk about, Clara?"
She scowled.
"No."
"Well, you should," said Riley forcefully, seeming to have already forgotten the advice in the van, and Bridget felt her heart sink further. "What were you thinking, going to a boy's house and smoking half a pack of cigarettes? Don't you know what that does to your lungs?"
Clara sat up and stared at Bridget.
"You told him!" she cried. "Why?"
"I'm your brother, that's why!" snapped Riley, answering for her.
"You're in Sydney!" she shouted.
"That's not the point!"
"Both of you, calm down," said Bridget crossly. "Don't get angry. Clara, you haven't told your mum, have you?" but it was more of a statement. Clara didn't answer.
"Have you?"
Clara looked a little less angry and more worried. Her face softened and she hugged the bear.
"I couldn't," she mumbled. "I did try. But every time I tried I got scared, or Mum was in a bad mood, or she was in such a good mood that I didn't want to tell her..."
"But Clara, she needs to know," said Bridget desperately. "We had a deal."
"Don't tell Mum!" she said fiercely. She dropped the teddy back onto the bed.
"Clara, you know what I said. We agreed that if you didn't tell your mum this week I would."
"No, we didn't agree," snapped Clara. "You told me. I didn't get a say. You're worse than a teacher. You just tell me things. You're worse than Josie too."
"What do you mean?"
"You blackmailed me!"
"Clara, I did not!" exclaimed Bridget, hurt. "I don't want you to tell Joanna because I want something for myself or to see you hurt, I want you to tell her because you're upset and you need to talk to your mum!"
"I don't need to talk to her," snapped Clara.
"You think you are so grown up!" said Bridget angrily, still hurt from Clara's previous comment. "And you're not! You're twelve years old!"
Clara looked angry.
"You just don't understand," she muttered crossly and Bridget opened her mouth to say something cross back but Riley got in first and told her, "If Bridget doesn't tell Joanna I will. And I don't care how you feel about it."
"Riley," said Bridget, who thought that was a little harsh in spite of herself, but neither her brother nor sister were listening and Clara lost her temper.
"Fine, tell Mum!" she snapped. "And she and Dad will hate me but I don't care! I don't care! I don't care because they lied to me their whole lives!"
There was a brief silence for a moment though Clara and Riley still glared at each other.
"Look," said Bridget finally, breaking the silence. "I know how angry you are, Clara, about what's happened –"
"You don't!"
"I do, a little at least. And you should tell your mum instead of keeping it from her and be honest."
"Why should I when she wasn't?"
"Clara, you know that's different. I promise she won't be too angry – she might be at first but she won't be for long. She'll be happy that you've told her."
"She won't understand," mumbled Clara.
"She will," assured Bridget. "We've all made mistakes growing up and like I said before, she'll be more concerned for you. You know Riley smoked a cigarette when he was twelve too – we've all done stupid things growing up."
Bridget had intended the last piece of information to be a comfort but Clara did not take it that way and instead she saw red.
"You smoked?!" she shouted at her brother. "And you went mad at me! Don't you know what that does to your lungs, Clara?! What about yours then? You hypocrite!"
"I'm not a hypocrite!" exclaimed Riley. "I'm not proud of it! I'm just cross because I didn't want you doing that either! I only smoked one cigarette as well," he added somewhat childishly but Clara just rolled her eyes and looked more angry.
"Clara, don't look like that," said Bridget, cursing herself for telling her that Riley had smoked. Her brother and sister looked like they were ready to kill each other and she didn't know how to save the situation.
"I'm not looking like anything," snapped Clara. "I'm just looking at my big, hypocritical brother who acted like it was such a crime to smoke once, but it was okay when he did it because it was only one!"
"Clara!" shouted Riley. "I'm not proud of it, okay? It was a really dumb thing to do!"
"And I bet you happily skipped off and told Steve and Miranda that you did that because it was the honest thing to do?" said Clara sarcastically.
"He didn't," said Bridget, "because we were still in the Home."
Clara looked ashamed and looked down. There was another awkward silence.
"Oh," she said quietly.
"Look, Clara, this isn't about being hypocritical or what we did as children," said Bridget desperately. "And really, it's not even that much about you smoking. It's because you seemed so upset about what happened and I want you to talk to your mum about it – though she really does need to know about you other stuff. You don't have to be scared."
"I'm not scared," mumbled Clara. She was picking at a hangnail.
"Well, you don't need to worry so much, is what I mean. Your mum will get a bit angry at first but she won't be too bad and she won't be disappointed in you, I promise. But she does have to know and I did give you a week. I don't particularly want to tell her, but if I have to, I will."
"I'll tell her tonight," said Clara, looking up at last. "Please don't tell her."
"All right," said Bridget thankfully, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but then came a sudden, surprised voice at the doorway: "Tell me what?"
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Post by Bee on Sept 20, 2010 13:34:59 GMT
ooh exciting!
cant wait for more
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Post by sophie on Sept 20, 2010 14:13:10 GMT
Thanks!
They all looked up in shock to see Joanna standing there in the doorway.
“Tell me what?” she said again, more firmly this time. “Bridget? Clara? Riley?”
Bridget felt her face grow red and when she looked over at Clara she saw that her mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with what you couldn’t tell me last week, would it Bridget?” asked Joanna but their guilty expressions confirmed it.
“Clara, I want to know now,” she said directly to her second daughter and she looked down.
“Clara?”
“Maybe after dinner?” suggested Bridget, hoping to give Clara some time to compose herself but Joanna suddenly snapped and said, “No, I want to know now,” in a high, angry voice that didn’t seem to belong to her.
“Mum...” mumbled Clara but Joanna glared at her and said, “Clara, you are telling me now!”
Clara pushed herself off the bed and left the room and Joanna followed her into hers. Bridget and Riley looked guiltily at each other, feeling like they were eavesdropping, though they couldn’t hear any voices, so they got off the bed as well and went downstairs to find Josie standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“What’s going on?” she asked curiously. “Me and Mum were in the kitchen and then we could hear shouting. What were you shouting about? Mum made me stay down here. I came out of the kitchen but couldn’t hear anything.”
“Don’t eavesdrop, Josie,” said Bridget wearily and she and Riley went into the kitchen, Josie following them and protesting. “I wasn’t, I couldn’t even hear anything. Anyway, no one tells you anything around here. Oh!” as raised voices reached their ears. Clara had evidently just told her mother what she had done and an argument was beginning. It carried on for a while and Bridget felt embarrassed.
“The pizza’s burning,” said Josie sadly and Bridget was relieved to have her attention drawn to something else.
“I’ve turned the oven off,” she continued. “I guess we should tell them it’s ready?”
“I don’t know,” said Bridget awkwardly, but she left the kitchen anyway. As she reached the foot of the stairs she heard Joanna shout, “Smoking? Don’t you know that gives you cancer?! I thought I had taught you better than that, just wait until your father hears about this!”
Bridget remembered, suddenly, arguments with her own mother that had ended on that note – just wait until I tell your father! How many arguments like that had they had? And Bridget had normally felt a little scared but she remembered clearly the afternoon where Miranda had shouted at her for secretly texting Declan but for once she hadn’t cared – not at that moment at least. And she had met up with him anyway and then got into her accident, but she remembered well the defiance she had felt before – tell Dad, then, she had almost snapped. He already thinks so much less of me and so do you.
Bridget turned to go back into the kitchen but before she did she heard Clara shout back, “Good, I’m glad you’ll tell Dad! It’ll make a change to have him back for once!”
Clara was gutsier than her, Bridget thought, going back to the kitchen. She never would have dared shout back at Miranda when she was in full-flow.
“Maybe leave the pizza for now.”
“It’ll get cold,” said Josie, worried.
“No, it’ll stay warm for a while.”
“Did you hear anything?” Josie asked. “Was it about that guy?”
“Leave it, Josie,” admonished Bridget and she frowned but settled herself by getting the cola out and some glasses, and pouring herself a small drink.
“Do you want any?”
“No thanks,” said Bridget and she walked over to the other counter, Riley following.
“They’re arguing?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yeah. Joanna’s shouting at her about the smoking.”
“She shouldn’t have taken it out on you before.”
“She was upset,” said Bridget automatically, though she did feel a little hurt. “She was just tired of being kept in the dark.”
“Even so...”
It was a while before Joanna and Clara came back downstairs. They stayed in the kitchen for a while, and Josie even sat up on a counter, swinging her legs, but finally they gave up and went into the sitting room where they sat uncomfortably on some sofas, where they could still hear Joanna and Clara’s muffled shouting.
“You’ve joined a baking club?” asked Riley hurriedly, even though Josie had told him in minute detail that same evening, but Josie told them the whole story again, and they listened intently, even though Bridget had been told it too. At long, long last they heard the shouting cease, and a door open, and Joanna and Clara came downstairs. Clara was rather red around the eyes and so was Joanna.
“The pizza’s ready,” said Josie a little crossly. “It’s been ready for ages – it’s probably gone cold now!”
“Josie,” said Bridget in a warning voice but Joanna seemed welcome at the change of subject.
“I’m sorry, darling. I’ll get it ready now...oh well done; you’ve laid the table...”
Clara sniffled and wouldn’t look at them during dinner, concentrating instead on her glass of cola. It all felt very tense but Joanna tried to be cheerful.
“Here we are – the pizza is a little burnt on top, I’m afraid, but it is still warm.”
“That’s fine,” said Bridget quickly. “We can just scrape off the burnt parts.”
“And everyone’s got their drink?” though there was no need to ask that as all the glasses were full. “Good.”
“Mum, can I have a sip of your wine?” begged Josie and Joanna sighed and gave her the glass.
“Just a very, very tiny one, all right?”
Josie took a small sip and everyone watched her. She initially looked delighted and then her expression changed to one of disgust and Bridget struggled not to laugh as she forced the drink down.
“Gross, Mum,” she said, pushing the glass back. “That tastes like paint cleaner!”
“Paint cleaner?” laughed Joanna. “When have you ever tasted that?”
“Oh, Mum...you know what I mean!”
“Well, anyway, congratulations to Riley!” said Joanna nervously and everyone echoed, “Congratulations!” and raised their glasses, three of cola and two of wine, and did the traditional clinking.
“Thanks guys,” said Riley, looking rather embarrassed but still pleased. “We haven’t set a date yet.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Six months,” he said and smiled at their expressions. “I know. Not very long, but it feels right.”
“That’s good,” said Joanna and she gave him a shy smile. The room fell silent again and Josie started playing with her fork. Clara sniffled.
“How long did you know Thomas?” asked Bridget, to try and ease the tension, though maybe it wasn’t the best choice of question, she thought later that night. That’s the beauty of hindsight.
“Oh,” said Joanna, thinking back, but she didn’t have to think for long. “Three months. It was three months before I found out about Riley.”
“What about Dad?” asked Josie.
“Oh darling, I don’t know. Yes I do. It was a year before we got engaged.”
“How long before the wedding?”
“Josie, sweetie, I don’t want to think about all of that. And I know I’ve told you before.”
“But you always talk about Bridget and Riley’s dad,” said Clara angrily, and some tears were glistening in her eyes, “and you never talk about ours! He’s still our dad even if he’s not your husband anymore!”
Joanna looked very angry and stood up.
“I’ve had just about enough of you this evening,” she said angrily. “And you can ask your dad all about it when he comes over though he will probably be too angry to go down memory lane!”
Clara’s face crumpled and she ran out and Joanna looked very ashamed.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said, but it seemed to be more to herself than to her other children.
“We should go,” said Bridget hastily. “Thanks for the great dinner.”
“Oh – are you sure? I’ll apologise to Clara, she’ll come back down –“
“No, it’s okay,” said Bridget. “I need to be putting India to bed soon and getting her ready for school in the morning.”
“All right,” said Joanna. “Well, you must come over next week and we’ll have a proper meal. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s fine,” said Bridget, and she smiled, yet she felt very relieved to leave and guessed Riley felt the same as he let out a long, low whistle when they got into the van.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“I never thought Joanna could shout like that.”
“No, me neither.”
“And you said she wouldn’t be too angry.”
“I said she wouldn’t be for long,” said Bridget defensively. “She’s shocked...she and Clara’ll make up soon...”
But she felt as though she was lying to herself and the sureness she had felt before seemed as ruined as the dinner.
“It was horrible,” she grimaced to Declan as they got into bed for the night.
“Yeah?”
“I never knew Joanna could get angry like that. I never knew she could get angry.”
“Everyone gets angry.”
“Thank you, Mr Psychiatrist! Yes, I know that sensibly, but it never seemed like she could, to me. She’s always seemed so soft...not weak, just quite gentle. I know she’s had rows with Clara but I never imagined them happening and I definitely never imagined hearing one. It was horrible.”
“I bet,” said Declan sympathetically.
“I hope I never row with Indy like that, or our new one. I’ve had lots of rows with Mum but they never lasted long and I never yelled back like that.”
“They’ll make up,” said Declan and he gave her a quick kiss.
“I told her Joanna wouldn’t be too angry,” said Bridget guiltily. “She was furious.”
“Yeah, but I would be at first. Come on, you told Clara she would be angry when she first told her. You know she’ll forgive her soon.”
“I guess,” said Bridget miserably and Declan gave her another kiss.
“She will. And it’s better that Joanna knows and that it was Clara who told her. She’d be much angrier if someone else had let her know what was going on.”
“You’re right,” said Bridget, feeling a little better, and it was odd to hear her own advice comforting her.
“I wasn’t quite telling the truth before,” she said thoughtfully. “About arguing with Mum.”
“Yeah?”
“I had such an awful row with her when she saw that text from you saying we should meet up and I snapped back. It was so vicious.”
“I remember that day,” said Declan quietly and uncomfortably and she squeezed his hand and gave him a kiss.
“It was such a long time ago now. We made up.”
“They’ll make up too,” said Declan comfortingly.
“I know. I hope so.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Oh, I don’t want to think about it now,” she said finally. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“All right.”
The conversation moved onto Declan and India’s evening, and Bridget laughed to hear, again, about her daughter trying to make a smoothie by pouring different kinds of juice into her glass, but she couldn’t help feeing on edge and guilty, and the unease continued even into her dreams that night. Bridget dreamt of being small and it was a still, warm day. She was looking down at the icecream she had dropped and felt sad, and thought about asking the kind lady for another, but when she looked up, the kind lady wasn’t there. She opened her mouth to call out, to shout, and then Bridget woke up in a cold sweat, her cry sounding quiet and small in the dark bedroom where she was an adult, not a little girl and the rest of the world slept.
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Post by Bee on Sept 20, 2010 14:31:22 GMT
great update Sophie cant wait for more!
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Post by sophie on Sept 21, 2010 10:36:55 GMT
Thanks!
On Friday afternoon Bridget got a text from Josie asking if she could meet her after school. She texted back, Of course. Do you want to go to the cafe on the high street at 4? xxx
Josie replied that she would so the following afternoon Bridget met up with her youngest sister, who ran up to her table when she saw Bridget, her schoolbag swinging out behind her.
“Hey,” said Bridget fondly. “Clara’s not coming?”
Josie shook her head and shook her curls. “No, she’s not allowed to go anywhere after school. She has to come straight home and do her homework.”
“Oh,” said Bridget. “So it’s just you and me then! What would you like to drink?”
They both ordered strawberry milkshakes and after Josie had drunk a little, she told Bridget what had been happening, impatiently wiping some milkshake away from her face with the back of her hand.
“Clara’s in so much trouble,” she told Bridget in a hushed voice. “Mum rang up Dad after you and Riley left and he came over and he was so mad. I’ve never seen Mum and Dad so angry with us before – well, with Clara. They made her come downstairs and they argued for ages. She’s been grounded for two months.”
“Wow!”
Bridget didn’t expect Clara to have taken that well and Josie confirmed it. “I was meant to be in my room but I came downstairs and heard it all.”
“Josie!” exclaimed Bridget. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”
“I went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water,” she protested. “And I drank it down there and just...stayed for a while.”
Bridget rolled her eyes but let her carry on.
“And Clara was crying that it wasn’t fair and then Mum snapped, How can you expect us to trust anything you say, Clara? How? But they said they were more angry about the smoking than anything else. Dad said she’d really let him down and Clara got really upset. They argued about what had happened at the boy’s house and Dad said he wanted to go round there and kill whoever it was and Mum and Clara had to talk him out of that, but Mum promised to call Michelle’s mum and Clara couldn’t talk her out of that. Then they said she was grounded for two months, was having her phone confiscated and had to come straight home from school and that she couldn’t see Andrew anymore. Clara started crying and said that they couldn’t do that and they said they just had, and then she shouted that she hated them and ran upstairs.”
Bridget felt terrible and looked down at her milkshake, but Josie continued the story.
“And then Mum and Dad started arguing. Dad said that he knew it was a bad idea ever letting her have a boyfriend and Mum said he could hardly blame everything that had happened on that and he said he could, and that it was definitely part of it. He said Mum should have stopped them from seeing each other a long time ago and then he said, She thinks she’d old enough to do anything now and she’s not, and she’s definitely too young for a boyfriend. You should have listened to me from the start and then Mum got really, really angry, and said back, Because you’ve been here all the time have you, seeing what she’s like every day? Do you really think if I’d known what was going on I’d have let it happen? It is not because she started seeing someone and Dad said she should have noticed, boyfriend or not, and Mum yelled, In case you haven’t noticed, I look after the girls every day except Saturday and Sunday by myself and I also work fulltime! and Dad shouted some horrible stuff about how if he looked after us more he could have done, and would have noticed, and Mum told him not to kid himself. And then he left.”
“That must have been horrible,” said Bridget sympathetically and Josie looked sad.
“It was, a bit. A lot. I could hear Mum crying so I went and gave her a cuddle. She didn’t tell me off for being downstairs. And then I went back upstairs and I knocked on Clara’s door and said it was me but she just shouted at me to go away!” said Josie incredulously. “And I knocked!”
“Well, she was upset.”
“I could hear her crying too. And I said that I could hear her crying and she shouted that she wasn’t and to leave her alone. So I went and did my homework and went to bed. Clara and Mum didn’t even say anything to each other this morning. It’s horrible. ”
“I bet,” said Bridget, taking her hand for a moment. “They’ll make up though.”
“They’ve never been so angry with Clara before,” said Josie miserably. “I’ve never heard Mum cry about her before. And I heard her say, How could I let it happen? even though she said it really quietly.”
Bridget felt a little like crying herself and wanted to tell Josie to tell Joanna that it hadn’t been her fault, but of course she couldn’t. Josie stared at her milkshake and drank some more, then moved the straw in a circle around the liquid.
“You just look after your mum and sister,” Bridget said. “They’ll make up. They’re just a bit upset.”
“I know,” said Josie, in a surprised voice. “I just wish Clara would talk to me. She didn’t much before but now she isn’t at all. She didn’t say anything to me the whole way to school, even when I sang Three Blind Mice in her ear. She just pushed me away.”
“Clara’s just trying to deal with it and taking it out on you,” said Bridget sympathetically. “She probably wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone.”
“She wouldn’t talk to me on the way back from school either. When we got back she just went straight to her room and wouldn’t look at Mum either and yelled that she was doing her homework and didn’t want to be disturbed when Mum asked if she wanted a drink.”
“Well, let Clara be. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
“What if she doesn't?” asked Josie in a small voice. “What if she never wants to talk to me again?”
“Oh Josie, why would you think that?”
“Because it’s my fault she’s in so much trouble,” said Josie, and a tear fell down her cheek.
“How is it?”
“I made her do all that stuff,” said Josie in a wobbly voice. “Because I saw the text on her phone and I told her that if she didn’t do what I said I’d tell Mum. And then Mum knew something weird was going on and then you found out and then Clara told her. And if I hadn’t looked at her phone and blackmailed her, Mum would never have found out.”
Bridget took a moment to digest this.
“Josie, that’s crazy,” she told her. “It’s nowhere near your fault. Even if you hadn’t seen her phone and made your sister your slave for a bit it still would have come out.”
“Really?”
“Really really. It’s not your fault for a moment and it might not seem like it now, but it really is better that your mum and dad know. They won’t be angry forever, even if seems like it now.”
“I suppose,” said Josie in a small voice.
“I promise. Hey, do you want another milkshake?”
Josie’s face lit up and Bridget ordered two more and they stopped talking about Clara and instead about Josie’s baking club and upcoming cake making competition, and Josie left the cafe looking much more happy. Bridget, however, went home in very low spirits.
“What’s up?” asked Declan, sitting down by her on the sofa and Bridget sighed.
“Joanna and David really hit the roof. They gave Clara a pretty harsh punishment and then they had a big argument with each other.”
“How do you know that?”
“My little sister should train to be a spy. She’s prime eavesdropper.”
“Oh,” said Declan, unsure as to whether or not he should smile at that but Bridget gave a tired one for him.
“It sounded nasty, anyway, and it sounded like what happened has let out a lot of pent-up stuff. I know sensibly that Clara did the right thing in telling them but I’m feeling really guilty.”
“Why? You didn’t make Clara go to a boy’s house and smoke cigarettes and lie about it.”
“I know, but it feels like I made her relationship with Joanna worse and it definitely hasn’t helped things between her mum and dad.”
“That’s not your fault either,” said Declan gently. “You can’t help the fact that they’re going through a divorce. And you were right the first time round; imagine if Joanna heard it all from you or someone else. Imagine how much more angry she would be and how much more bad the argument would be with Clara and her ex. And you know it’s better than her not knowing at all.”
“I know,” sighed Bridget, and she gave him a quick kiss. “Voice of Reason, I know. But it just sounds so awful over there – Clara’s not talking to anyone, she’s grounded for two months and her mum and dad are fighting about custody, it seems.”
“If it was Indy she’d probably be grounded indefinitely,” said Declan, half-joking. “I’d probably be reluctant to ever let her out of the house again.”
“That was another thing they argued about; Clara having too much freedom but I still don’t think it was that. I think it was mainly their divorce and Joanna telling her about Riley and I.”
“Don’t start feeling guilty over that,” warned Declan, knowing his wife.
“I’m not, I know that’s stupid,” said Bridget quickly. “Or rather, my heart does. Anyway, I’m going to try and take my mind off it, there’s nothing I can do for now. What shall we have for dinner? Oh,” she added with a grimace, “Dinner on Wednesday. That should be fun.”
“What’s grounded?” suddenly came a sunny voice. “And why would you ground me forever? Is it like a fairystory where the princess gets locked up for a hundred years?”
Bridget and Declan whirled round to see their daughter standing, puzzled, behind the sofa where they had been sitting.
“Young lady, that was extremely naughty to eavesdrop!”
“I wasn’t!” protested India, avoiding blame at all cost. “What’s eavesdropping?”
“Something you shouldn’t do and something you and Josie seem to be very good at. You could give each other tips and train to be spies.”
“I’d rather be a spy than a princess,” said India, pleased, and Declan jumped up, pretending to be angry, and said, “If I catch you I’ll make you a princess and lock you up forever and forever!” and India shrieked and ran away as Declan chased her around the house. Bridget burst out laughing and was still laughing when she cooked their dinner of chops.
When Bridget went to bed that night, however, two things worried her. The first, predominantly, was Clara and everything that was happening with her, and when she and Joanna would make up, and the second was her dream, or dreams, or memories, if she was being truly honest with herself. They had not come for a while and Bridget had half-kidded herself that they were just dreams – some psychological, Freudian or Jungian mish-mash of current feelings of abandonment. But Bridget knew, in her heart of hearts, that they weren’t symbolic and that Freud and Jung or whoever it was could take his theory and stuff it up his...well, anyway, she knew it was truly a memory, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Confront Joanna or Riley? How could she now, with what was going on? Declan fell asleep easily, snoring a little, but when she dropped off she dreamt again of being in the sunny place, alone and scared with a scab on her knee and icecream on her hands, and when she called for who it was she woke up again. Who are you? Bridget asked silently, and, unwillingly she added, and where was I? She feared to think and know about what had happened on that longago afternoon and half-slept until dawn with unease.
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Post by Bee on Sept 21, 2010 11:31:07 GMT
great update Sophie! cant wait for more!
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Post by sophie on Sept 22, 2010 10:35:06 GMT
Thanks!
On Saturday morning Bridget woke up, still with a sense of worry, and for a moment she didn't know why. Then she remembered and felt strange, but didn't know what to think about it. Her memories were so much hazier in the daytime than in her nighttime dreams and as she leant over and saw her husband still snoring slightly in the morning sun she smiled and lay back down, determined not to stress about it – it seemed so remote on that Saturday morning. When they did got up they made a list for India's birthday party.
"We have all the guests," said Bridget, ticking things off "So really, all we need is the party supplies and food."
"You don't think we should take them to the park or somewhere?" suggested Declan and Bridget stared at him.
"No way! We're responsible for eleven children, ten of whom are not our own, and I'm not taking them somewhere where they could get lost! Besides, I'm eight months pregnant, it's not even as if I could run after them."
"Okay, okay, it was just an idea! I just thought maybe it would be a good idea to let them burn off some energy!"
"They can burn off energy when they play the games. Besides, a crucial part of a children's birthday party is to eat too many lollies and get hyper."
"You won't be saying that on Saturday."
"No, maybe not, but I still reckon it's best to keep them confined to the house."
"I guess so. Oh, the other parents'll hate us!"
"Maybe they'll be happy not to have looked after them all day. Oh well, she's only turning seven once. Seven!" and Bridget's eyes filled with tears and she laughed at herself and Declan groaned.
"Ah, Didge, don't set me off! It's going to ruin my reputation if I get soppy about my little girl's birthday!"
"Oh, as if you have any street cred," laughed Bridget through her tears. "And like you're not soppy about India all the time!"
"True," admitted Declan. "But I try not to get teary about it!"
They finished the list off and Bridget sighed, not looking forward to her clearly big supermarket trip. Who knew a seven-year-old could need so much for a party?
"Well, I'm going to get some groceries," said Declan, getting up off the sofa.
"Do you want me to come?"
"Only if you want to, but I'm fine to go by myself. Indy can come and help, can't you?"
"Grocery shopping?" echoed India, who no longer bought it as a fun activity to be Mummy or Daddy's special helper at the supermarket.
"I need help from my girl. We'll see who can spot the food first and you can push the trolley."
Letting their daughter in charge of the shopping trolley seemed like a dangerous plan to Bridget and she looked at him, but he was beaming at India's sudden excitement.
"Yeah!"
"Declan, are you sure -?"
"It'll be fine," he said firmly. "You stay here and relax. We shouldn't be more than an hour."
"All right," said Bridget, and she waved them off, India skipping to the car.
Just as Bridget had settled down with a bad TV movie her mobile rang and she sighed. It was Riley and she felt less annoyed.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Didge. I need your help."
"What with?"
"Present shopping," her brother said in a panicked voice. "I have no idea what to get my niece for her birthday!"
"Just buy her something that isn't pink."
Her brother snorted.
"Oh thanks, big help! Do you know how many things there are in the world that aren't pink?"
"Okay, okay."
"Will you help me?" begged her brother. "Please, Didge. I have no idea what to buy a seven-year-old girl, I'm in the shopping centre and I'm clueless!"
"Okay, calm down."
"Please come and help me? Are you busy?"
"Dec and Indy have gone grocery shopping," she said. "We don't have any plans yet, but I can't stay out for too long. Hang on, I'll be there in twenty minutes. I've got to get the bus."
"You're a star of a sister," said Riley in relief.
"Don't I know it," said Bridget, half-joking. "I won't be long."
So Bridget got herself up, found her bag and keys and scribed a note to Declan and India and set off, arriving twenty minutes later to find Riley standing there looking completely clueless but smiling when he saw his sister.
"Thank God," he said and Bridget laughed at him and they went into the toyshop.
"Where do we begin?" Riley asked nervously, his eyes scanning the shop, and he wandered over to some toys aimed at girls.
"Riley, forget the dolly collection, Indy hates all of that, you know she does. She uses her only dolls for victims in games involving disasters."
"Like someone I know," reminded Riley, elbowing her briefly, "who used to behead hers!"
"Yes, okay. Well, I told them I hated Barbies and they didn't listen – they just laughed at me and said all little girls loved them. They got a bit of a surprise there!"
"I remember Mum being so cross with you," grinned Riley, as they left the dolls and headed towards some more unisex toys.
"And Dad just laughed! Oh, I'd say to get this but we got her one at Christmas," said Bridget sadly, holding up a green skipping rope.
"What about this?" Riley held a yo-yo and Bridget looked unsure.
"I'm worried she'd be more interesting in whirling it around than learning the tricks."
"Okay, I'll forget the yo-yo. This?" and Riley held up a large, squashy looking teddy that played a tune when you squeezed it.
"It's a bit young for her," said Bridget doubtfully.
"There's nothing right for her!" sighed Riley, and Bridget wondered if he meant her or Indy. Riley wandered to another part of the shop and Bridget smiled at all the fun-looking toys. She saw a bouncy ball and, when no one was looking, could not resist giving it a quick bounce on the wooden floor. It sailed into the air, she caught it and quickly put it back and suddenly her brother called, "Didge!" which made her jump, and for a moment she thought he had seen her, but it turned out he was calling her over to see something.
"How about this?" he asked happily. "I think it's perfect!"
He moved out of the way so Bridget could see and it was a display of children's cameras in different colours.
"It might be a bit old for her," said Bridget hesitantly. "The recommended age is nine and up."
"Yeah, but Indy's a bright kid and I reckon she'd love it. Maybe it'll make her into a photographer! Look, there's one in purple."
Bridget wondered if in actual fact it would make several blurred photos at bizarre angles but she didn't want to be too pessimistic and maybe he was right, after all. India was bright.
"Okay," she agreed and smiled. "Yes. Get Indy that."
"You'll have me to thank when she becomes a prize-winning photographer one day," said Riley smugly. "In one of her speeches for accepting an award she'll answer, It was my Uncle Riley, for giving me my very first camera for my seventh birthday! When she's asked who her inspiration was."
Bridget laughed but not unkindly.
"Maybe. Either way, you didn't need me to come along after all!"
"Nah, I did, if you hadn't been there I probably would have panicked and bought her a Barbie doll because 'all girls like Barbies'."
"Just not me and Indy, hey? And probably a lot of other girls too."
They went to the till and bought the camera and left the shop, blinking in the sudden light.
"Hey," said Riley, "do you have time for a smoothie before you head back? My shout."
"I should probably be heading back soon," she said doubtfully and Riley rolled his eyes at her.
"Where's your sense of fun? Look, Dec's with Indy and you don't have any plans. Leave a message if you want, but I don't see why you shouldn't."
"I guess not," said Bridget sheepishly, but she left a message for Declan, who must still be out shopping, and then she stuck her tongue out. "Who says I have no sense of fun?"
They ordered two strawberry smoothies and sat in the sun. Bridget told Riley about seeing Josie after school and he raised his eyebrows when she told him about Clara's punishment.
"Two months?" he echoed incredulously, and whistled a little through his teeth. "Wow. That's a bit steep."
"I know. I get why they're so angry but I think it's a bit of an overreaction."
"Clara's going to be climbing the walls by the end of it. Poor kid."
"Josie said she's not talking to anyone. Dinner on Wednesday night should be interesting."
"Yeah," grimaced Riley. "Well, there's nothing we can really do about it."
"I know," sighed Bridget, and she drank some more of her drink.
They sat there for a little while longer, finishing off the rest of the smoothies and it was pleasant in the sun. Bridget was enjoying the conversation with her brother and the relaxed morning, but her memories came up again in the back of her mind, and she wondered about asking him if he remembered anything. Suddenly she didn't want to, and knew it would ruin the good mood, and she looked down at her empty glass and twirled the straw.
"What?" asked Riley, seeing the change in her expression.
"Do you remember..." Bridget said vaguely, and, trying to find some courage, looked down at her watch and exclaimed at the time. She had been there for an hour!
"Do I remember what?" asked Riley, frowning.
"Oh – nothing. Sorry. I've got to head off, it's later than I thought and I don't want to miss the next bus."
"Well calm down, I'll give you a lift. Jeez Didge, relax!" he said laughing. "It's nothing to panic over!"
"Sorry," she said, blinking, and allowed Riley to drive her home.
"Thanks for all the help," he said sheepishly, as he dropped her off. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? You're still coming round?"
"Yes, of course. Thanks, Ri," said Bridget, and she gave him a quick hug, stepped out of the van and back into the house.
"Hey!" she called, coming into the front room and seeing her husband. "I'm sorry I took ages. Did you get everything?"
"Yeah," said Declan, who was stretched out on the sofa, but he sounded pained about something.
"What? What's happened? And where's India?"
"In her room. She has to stay there for the rest of the day."
"Why?" exclaimed Bridget, her mouth making a perfect O. "What happened?"
"I let her push the trolley," groaned Declan, "and we bumped into some kid from her school. That Jamie boy and he was with his uncle. So I was talking to him and he said he was staying with his brother for a bit, and we were talking about that, and then suddenly there was this massive crash. In the two seconds we took our eyes off Jamie and India they decided to have a trolley race down the main aisle and crashed into the chip section at the other end."
"Dec!" cried Bridget, groaning. "They didn't hurt anyone, did they?"
"No, thank God, everyone had the sense to jump out of the way, but there was an avalanche of chips which we had to rescue them from. Luckily the woman who worked there saw the funny side. My pride's more hurt than anything else, oh –" and he winced suddenly, "and my ankle. She managed to wheel the trolley into it about three times."
Bridget knew she would laugh about it later but for now all she felt was mortified.
"I knew you shouldn't have let her push the trolley."
"Didge, don't say I told you so," groaned Declan. "That's all I've been thinking for the past hour."
"Sorry," she said sheepishly and gave him a kiss.
"Did you have a good time with Riley?"
"Yeah, we got a present."
"Good."
"I'm going to go and tell off India," said Bridget, and she went to her daughter's bedroom to find India lying on the bed with paper and a pencil with some odd lines all over it.
"What's that?"
"In the movies the prisoners put lines on the walls. I don't know why but these are my lines."
"I see," said Bridget, inwardly thankful that her daughter had the sense not to draw on the wall itself. "You're not in prison though."
"I have to stay in my room all day."
"Yes, because you were very, very naughty. What were you thinking?"
"It seemed like such a good idea," protested India. "I've always wanted to do a trolley race and there was no one in the way. If we hadn't crashed into the chips it would have been fine."
"No, it would not have," said Bridget firmly. "You can't go running around supermarkets with trolleys, it's dangerous. And little girls who do that are risking their birthday parties."
"Mummy!" cried India, sitting up and looking horrified.
"Don't worry, you're still having your party, but you must promise me you won't do that ever again."
"Okay," sighed India. "I promise."
Bridget went back and sat on the sofa with Declan, after he made room for her.
"Don't tell India," she whispered, "but I've always wanted to have a trolley race."
He laughed.
"Me too."
She giggled, kissed him and watched a football game, and as she shouted at the screen for her team to win her memories faded to the back of her mind again, dormant for then at least.
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Post by Bee on Sept 22, 2010 10:46:16 GMT
lol well I, a 17 almost 18 year old, still ride trolleys down aisles at supermarkets...
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Post by sophie on Sept 22, 2010 11:43:18 GMT
It has always been my dream
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Post by sophie on Sept 23, 2010 15:26:04 GMT
Thanks!
The next few days rolled by. On Sunday Bridget, Declan and India spent the whole day with Steve, Miranda and Riley out in the countryside and Bridget was too busy enjoying relaxing with her family and laughing at her daughter attempting cartwheels to think about anything else. On Monday Bridget spent the day with Donna, allowing her to drag her around some shops where her new design had been marketed, and then the two had a belated lunch (an extremely belated one by the time Donna had finished exclaiming with excitement) and then India had to be picked up from school, on Tuesday Bridget realised that she had not studied properly for days and so sat, thinking and worrying, and in her breaks half-heartedly did some chores and e-mailed Rachel, dropped India off at Steve’s vet surgery and then went to her pre-natal class with Declan before going for a long dinner at Steve and Miranda’s, suffering through her mother pulling out some family albums. She looked at the picture of her little-girl self, aged eight, eating an icy pole and surprised at having her photo taken, and wondered where she had gone and what had happened to her all those years ago. Miranda had noticed her odd look and asked if she was all right and she had smiled and laughed and said that yes, it was just embarrassing to look back at old photos and her mother had threatened her with more. And then, suddenly, it was Wednesday – how had that happened? – and after the rush of getting her daughter to school and kissing her husband goodbye as he went to work Bridget found herself alone at her desk with just thoughts for company. The weekend and following days had simply disappeared, and she had not thought properly about her dreams since that sudden, shocked, waking in the night. But Bridget felt small and childlike and didn’t want to think about it, and what with what was happening at Joanna’s, she especially did not want to mention any of it tonight at dinner. Bridget sighed and then remembered why she was sitting at the desk, and her textbook was open, challenging her it seemed, so she threw herself into some study over the next few hours before stopping for lunch. She did two hours after that, stopping only for coffee, and then collected India from school and then, suddenly, Riley was tooting his horn and it was time to go to Joanna’s.
“What’s up with you?” asked Riley, a crease in his brow, as he pulled away from the curb.
“What? Oh, nothing.”
“You can’t kid me, Didge.”
“It’s just been a long day,” she said and looked out of the window. Riley sighed.
“I guess I’m just worried about Clara too,” she added, not entirely untruthfully. “And Joanna.”
“I know, but they’ll be right.”
“Will they?” asked Bridget glumly. “They all sounded so upset from what Josie said.”
“We can’t really do much about it apart from wait until it all blows over.”
“I guess. Two months though.”
Riley looked over at his sister.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“You gave me some sisterly advice last week and now it’s time for me to give you some brotherly advice. Don’t get involved.”
“I won’t get involved!” cried Bridget.
“And don’t get defensive!” he said tetchily. “Look, it’s like what you said to me last week: Clara’s your sister, not your daughter, and you can’t get upset about what punishment they’ve given her, it’s not your call.”
“I know,” said Bridget, still slightly defensively, “and I’m not saying that I would get involved!”
“Maybe not directly, but I know you; you’ll stew over it for ages and get all upset, but Bridget, there’s nothing we can do. She’s not our daughter and if they want to ground her for two months that’s up to them, even if it is a bit much.”
“A bit much? A lot much!”
“Maybe they’ll have calmed down by now and lessened it a bit, but if they haven’t, you can’t worry about it. You’ve just got to be there for Clara and her mum and if she’s still fuming about it then we can’t do anything.”
Bridget was quiet for a moment and then said,
“When did you get so wise and parenty? Look, I know you’re right, and I wouldn’t tell Joanna that she’s doing something wrong or anything like that, but it just seems so bad there at the moment. It feels like I should do something.”
“You can’t though, not like that. You’ve just got to wait for it to blow over – even if they do still ground her for two months it’s not that long, really. The last few months have flown by; and it feels like Easter was yesterday.”
“I know it goes by so quickly now but it doesn’t when you’re a kid.”
“And that’s the point of grounding, isn’t it? Either way, it’s not forever and they’ve probably calmed down a bit anyway. It was a week ago.”
Riley’s hopeful prediction did not seem to have come true, however, and after Josie had opened the door and hugged and greeted them she told them, “Clara’s up in her room. She’s not allowed to watch TV or use the computer unless it’s for homework and she just goes there after school and sulks and won’t talk to us. She only comes down for tea and when she wants a drink.”
“Your mum and dad are still angry then?” asked Bridget, her heart sinking.
“Mum and Clara aren’t really speaking but Mum either looks really angry or really sad, or both. Dad and Clara didn’t talk much this weekend either – it was really awkward. Dad wouldn’t let her watch TV at his place either but I heard them have an argument when I was in bed and they thought I was asleep. Clara said it was so unfair that she was grounded for two months and he said that she should have thought about that before she started smoking and lying to him and Mum, and he hoped it would teach her a lesson. Clara yelled that he didn’t understand and she went to bed as well, even though she didn’t have to.”
Bridget and Riley exchanged glances and then Bridget asked, “Where are your mum and sister?”
“Mum’s in the kitchen and Clara’s in her room.”
Bridget and Riley went into the kitchen to see Joanna stirring something that was smoking slightly on the stove, and she tried to sound friendly when they greeted her but they could tell she was in a bad mood. Bridget offered to help but Joanna told them to relax with the girls so they headed upstairs to Clara’s room whilst Josie went to the bathroom.
“Clara?” asked Bridget, knocking gently on the door, “can we come in?”
“I guess,” came a small reply. Clara was talking to them, at least, and Bridget pushed open the door and went in. Clara was on the bed, looking rather deflated, and drawing something.
“Hey,” said Bridget, sitting next to her. “What’s that?”
“The sea,” said Clara, and Bridget bent over to look. The drawing was good for someone of Clara’s age and she seemed to have inherited Joanna’s talent.
“That’s so good Clara!”
“I can’t get the waves right,” she said sulkily. “It doesn’t look like the sea. It’s no good,” and she scrumpled the paper up into a ball.
“Don’t do that,” said Bridget, taking the paper and trying to smooth it out. “It’s better than I can do.”
“It’s rubbish. I can’t draw.”
“How have you been?” asked Riley, sitting next to them, and Clara gave him a look.
“How do you think?”
“Clara, don’t be so rude,” said Bridget crossly. “Riley was only asking a question so you might try being more polite.”
Clara looked angry and as though she might retort but she sighed and said, “Sorry. I’ve been rubbish. Everything sucks.”
“I know,” said Bridget sympathetically. “I’m sorry you’re in so much trouble.”
“But it’s your fault,” said Clara angrily. “You made me tell Mum!”
“Don’t you dare blame your sister,” said Riley. “She’s not the one who smoked and lied about what she was up to.”
“I didn’t want you to get into heaps of trouble, Clara,” said Bridget, slightly stung. “I just wanted you and your mum to talk it out.”
“Well, she won’t talk to me, she’s so mad at me. I’m sorry, but they’ve grounded me for two months!” wailed Clara. “What the hell am I going to do for two months when I don’t even have TV or the internet?”
“Read?” suggested Bridget and Clara gave her a look this time.
“I’ve only got so many books and I don’t even like reading that much.”
“Why don’t you make it a project and see if you can read them all and how long it takes you?”
“Oh wow, that sounds like fun,” said Clara sarcastically. “And what do I get at the end, a sticker? I’ve read them all a hundred times anyway.”
Bridget was annoyed.
“Your mum and dad are already pretty angry with you, do you want to add two more people to the list?”
“It won’t make much of a difference,” said Clara snottily. “Everyone at school hates me anyway.”
“Why?”
“Mum rang up Michelle’s mum, even though I begged and begged her not to, and she went insane as well. She grounded Michelle and rang up the mums of everyone else who’d gone to the party and now they’re all grounded too, and it’s all my fault, they said. And Michelle said her cousin’s in trouble.”
“Good!” said Bridget with feeling. “He should be!”
“But everyone hates me,” wailed Clara. “Andrew’s gone away for a couple of weeks but he’s going to hate me when he gets back too!”
“Clara, you know everyone does not hate you. We don’t hate you, your sister doesn’t hate you and your mum and dad don’t hate you, even if they are angry.”
“You said they wouldn’t be,” said Clara pointedly. “You promised Mum wouldn’t go off the deep end and she has!”
“Clara, I said she might be angry at first,” said Bridget defensively. “And that she wouldn’t be for long.”
Clara snorted.
“It’s already been a week and she won’t even look at me!”
“Maybe you’re not looking at her?” suggested Bridget gently and Clara got defensive.
“Because Mum looks so angry! She shouted at me so much I thought her voice was going to go out! She was as angry as Dad, maybe more angry, and Mum’s never more angry than Dad! Well, I don’t care.”
“You do care.”
“I don’t,” said Clara, her voice wavering a little, though she tried to hide it. “I was angry with Mum anyway so maybe it’s better that she’s angry with me too.”
Bridget and Riley looked at each other.
“Clara, you don’t mean that,” said Bridget gently. “I know you don’t.”
“I do,” she said, but didn’t sound very sure of herself. “I want to draw,” and she picked up her sketchpad and Bridget and Riley sighed at each other.
They heard Josie leave the bathroom and approach the door but Clara said flatly, “Leave me alone,” and they heard Josie go into her own room.
“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” said Riley sternly but she just shrugged and he sighed and went to join Josie.
“You shouldn’t be taking it out on Josie,” said Bridget, who was trying to keep her temper. “What’s she done?”
“Please leave me alone,” said Clara again but there was a slight note of guilt in her voice too as she hunched over the sketchpad. Bridget looked at her and then went to join her other siblings.
“Clara’s being a cow!”
“Josie!”
“She is!” said Josie angrily. “And I hope she hears me! Cow!” she said again, loudly, but there was no kind of response so Josie sat on the bed and hugged a teddy, looking very annoyed.
“I know Clara is being a bit of a cow at the moment,” said Bridget in a low voice, “but she’s just upset and angry. She’ll calm down and she’ll apologise.”
“I don’t care if she’s upset and angry,” said Josie defensively. “It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not, but she’ll come to her senses and say sorry.”
“When, after two months? That’s forever!”
“It’s not forever. It’s not that long, really.”
“Seems long to me,” commented Josie but then dinner was ready so they all trooped back downstairs to see Joanna laying plates of pasta onto the table.
They all sat at the table but Clara went and poured herself some water and then sat down not looking at anyone. Joanna raised her eyebrows a little but didn’t say anything, and instead asked Bridget and Riley how their weekend had been.
“That sounds lovely,” said Joanna when they had told her. “A day in the country. We haven’t had a day out for ages.”
Clara gave a small sniff but looked at her food when her mother glared at her, so Bridget hurried on and changed the subject to India’s exploits at the supermarket and everyone laughed, and even Clara giggled.
“Me and Clara had a trolley race once,” said Josie gleefully. “It was awesome, even if we did crash into the freezer.”
“It was less awesome for me,” said Joanna with feeling, “having to apologise to the irate store manager and telling him how I had managed to let my two extremely naughty girls get hold of two trolleys and race them when my back was turned, one of which was not our own and had stock in which he was putting out. I had to fish it all out of the freezer too, and you Josie, after you managed to fly in headfirst.”
“I still say that means I won,” said Josie, giggling. “It means I properly went over the finish line even though Clara says that she won and it doesn’t count. Don’t you, Clara?” she asked, turning to her sister, but she just shrugged. Joanna looked annoyed and Josie rolled her eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes Josie and Clara, answer your sister when she talks to you.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Clara through gritted teeth. “And I won, Josie, because I got to the freezer before you, it doesn’t matter if you went into it or not.”
“It does! It does!” and Josie went into a long explanation of why, but Bridget knew that Clara wasn’t listening and she also got the impression that it had been explained why several times.
The atmosphere felt more cheerful for a while and everyone laughed at Riley being unable to find a present.
“David bought Josie a dress that was three sizes too big when he got her a birthday present once,” said Joanna, rolling his eyes. “He said that he’d panicked, and that she could grow into it!”
They all laughed but then conversation died down again, and so Riley told everyone about how he had met Marie and their engagement and then, finally, dinner was over, and though no one had argued Bridget still let out a sigh of relief. She said her goodbyes to Josie and Clara and Clara mumbled, “I’m sorry I was horrid before. Please say something to Mum,” and Bridget felt helpless, wondering what she could say, and if she should, but then Joanna said, “Bridget, can I ask you about something?” and she went over, curious, whilst Riley went to warm the van up.
“I’ve talked to David,” she said, “and we’ve decided to let Josie and Clara come to Indy’s party. Maybe not for the whole thing, but he can drop them off for a couple of hours and I’ll meet them there and then he’ll come and collect them at the end. Is that okay?”
“That’s great,” said Bridget, her heart swelling. “India will be so happy, thank you. And thanks for letting Clara come when she’s grounded,” she added tentatively and Joanna gave a half-smile.
“She’s in trouble but it seemed mean to India as well as her to make her miss the party.”
“India will be so happy you’re all there.” Bridget half-bit her tongue, remembering what Riley had said in the van, but she couldn’t help saying, “Clara is sorry you know.”
“Maybe she is,” said Joanna briskly. “I hope so. She should be when her punishment’s up anyway.”
“You don’t think two months is a bit...?” said Bridget hesitantly, but Joanna took offence.
“No, I don’t think it’s a bit much, if that’s what you were going to say,” she snapped. “Clara’s been getting away with far too much lately and just doesn’t care, smoking as well, and she needs to know that what she did was wrong.”
“Well, yes, of course, but-“
“I need to keep an eye on her,” said Joanna crossly. “So don’t tell me how to raise her.”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Bridget, feeling upset. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Joanna’s face softened a little but she sounded a little upset when she said, “Listen Bridget, I know you’re only trying to help but we think it’s best. She’s been sneaking out and lying to us for weeks and for heaven’s sake, she’s only twelve years old! When I was twelve I was still climbing trees and playing games, I wouldn’t have dreamt of going near cigarettes. No one’s denying that she’s had a hard year but there is a limit.”
“I know you’re angry, but don’t you think you should talk it out?”
That was another mistake.
“She shouted back at me when we were arguing and said she didn’t care,” said Joanna furiously and Bridget thought she could see some wetness around Joanna’s eyes. “She said she hated me and won’t look at me. It’s all very well to say she didn’t mean it and I know she didn’t, but she still said it. I’ve told Clara over and over and over how she should come to me about things, and I’ve let her go off on her bike for hours on end and out to meet her friends – I even let her have a boyfriend and half the mums wouldn’t! And what has she done? Thrown it back in my face. She’s got to know that she’s done wrong and I’ve got to know where she is at all times. If she comes to me and wants to talk about it I’ll let her, but right now she won’t even look at me. It’s time she grew up a bit and stopped thinking that everything’s about her. I am not letting this slide.”
Bridget felt snubbed and didn’t know what to say. She thought that maybe the reason Clara wasn’t talking to her mother was because she was too frightened now, but decided that it was best not to say so when Joanna was so upset.
“And if I hadn’t let her go to that sleepover,” said Joanna, in a slightly tight voice, “she wouldn’t have been able to sneak off to that boy’s house and they wouldn’t have made her play that awful game.”
“Joanna, it’s not –“ began Bridget but Joanna cut her off.
“And I wish you had told me,” she said. “I know Clara said not to, but I wish you had.”
“I thought you should hear it from her,” said Bridget, who couldn’t say anything else. “I’m sorry. I did what I thought was best.”
There was a pause and Joanna looked down at the table.
“I’m going to tidy this up,” she said. “I’ll see you on Saturday. Goodnight, Bridget.”
“Goodnight,” said Bridget, feeling hurt, and she went to the van.
“What did she ask you?” asked Riley when they were driving away, and he saw the look on his sister’s face and groaned. “Oh, you got involved, didn’t you? I said not to!”
“Don’t,” said Bridget glumly, and as her husband had done, she added, “Please don’t say I told you so.”
“Okay,” said Riley kindly, and when he dropped her off he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry about it, sis. She’ll come round,” and then he drove away, leaving Bridget to wonder if he meant Joanna or Clara, and she felt ashamed and sad.
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Post by sophie on Oct 6, 2010 14:23:48 GMT
Bridget didn't feel like talking to anyone when she got back but she gave her husband a half-hearted smile.
"Was it bad?" he asked sympathetically.
"Worse," said Bridget, wrinkling her nose. "And then I had to be stupid enough to suggest that maybe two months was a bit much to Joanna and she got annoyed and told me off for telling her how to raise her, but I really didn't mean it like that." Bridget felt upset and looked down and Declan put a comforting arm around her.
"She shouldn't have said that."
"She said she knew I was just trying to help but she felt that she was doing the right thing. She's so hurt by all this too. I know I shouldn't interfere but it's so horrible there right now."
Bridget sniffled a little and wiped a hand over her eyes and said firmly, "I know I shouldn't have interfered though, she was right to be annoyed with me."
"You didn't mean to be interfering," said Declan kindly. "You were just trying to look out for them."
"Maybe," she said in a tired voice. "I'm going to have a bath and go to bed, I think."
"Okay," said Declan, giving her a kiss and it was only when she was in the bath with a door shut that she allowed herself to cry a little.
The next morning, however, Bridget didn't have any time to think about the things that were on her mind. She had to take India to school and then go to a doctor's appointment, relieved to hear her baby's heartbeat and to know that everything was progressing the way it should. Bridget went home and did an hour of study but nothing was sticking and in the end she guiltily switched on the television and watched a bad movie that required no concentration, the words it will rot your brain! Miranda had always used to warn her throughout her childhood echoing in her brain. When the film ended Bridget did some more study, to try and make up for before, and then she picked up India and began the evening routine. On Friday Bridget was able to think of one thing and one thing only: India's birthday was tomorrow and she had to prepare a party.
Bridget always felt panicked before organising parties – well, namely her daughter's, as she didn't throw many for friends – and always had a niggling feeling that something would go wrong. She had good reason to feel this way; last year one of India's friends had tried to put her piece of pizza into the DVD player before Declan had stopped her to see if it would come up on screen and another year an argument had broken out at the table and one of the little girls had grabbed the bowl of jelly and emptied it over another girl's head, who had cried. The jelly stains had never really come out of the carpet. But Bridget told herself not to panic before the party had even started and, trying to feel organised, grabbed the list she had made and tried to think of there was anything to add to it, but there didn't seem to be, and Bridget supposed she should get to the supermarket. She sighed. She was about to heave herself up when the phone rang suddenly, so she reached out and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, darling, it's Rebecca," came her mother-in-law's kind voice. "I was just wondering if you wanted any help getting things ready? I have the day off."
Bridget could have wept with gratitude.
"You're a star, Rebecca. I was just going to head out to the supermarket to pick some things up."
"I'll come over and we'll go together – poor you, having to go party shopping when you're this far along! Unless you don't want me to – I don't want to be the typical, interfering mother-in-law!"
Rebecca laughed but Bridget felt uneasy again and wanted to ask her not to use that word, but instead she said, "Of course not, I'd love for you to come and help."
"I'll see you in fifteen minutes then."
Rebecca stayed true to her word – well, almost – and came twenty minutes later.
"I'm sorry I'm a little late," she said apologetically. "I couldn't find my keys – oh Bridget, what's the matter? You look like you're about to cry!"
"I'm fine," said Bridget stoutly but, feeling young under Rebecca's concerned look, told her the whole story on the way to the supermarket and Rebecca looked a little shocked at the end of it.
"Maybe I should be glad I've had boys," she said. "Though Clara has been going through a hard time, hasn't she? Still."
"I know," said Bridget. "I tried to help but I should have kept my nose out – I can't really do anything and Joanna got offended."
"Hey," said Rebecca kindly, and, like her son, put a comforting arm around Bridget who was looking extremely miserable, "don't beat yourself up over it. You weren't trying to interfere, you were just trying to help."
"I know," said Bridget. "I still feel bad over it, though."
"You shouldn't," said Rebecca again and she gave Bridget a half-hug and they walked into the supermarket and grabbed a trolley, leading Bridget to tell Rebecca about India's racing, which made her burst into laughter and Bridget couldn't help laughing too, now that the embarrassment had ceased a little.
"Oh, I know it's irresponsible of me to laugh, but still!" said Rebecca, wiping her eyes. "That's my granddaughter, hey?"
"I can just imagine Declan's face when he saw what had happened," said Bridget and she looked at Rebecca and they couldn't help but fall into giggles again.
"Now," said Rebecca, when they had recovered, pulling out the list, "what do we need first?"
"I don't know," said Bridget, feeling overwhelmed. "I guess chips, and lollies, all that party food stuff."
"Right then," said Rebecca and she seemed to glide along the aisles and find everything in no time.
"How are you doing that?" exclaimed Bridget with her mouth open, her arms resting on the trolley.
"Years of practise," said Rebecca briskly. "I've thrown many a children's birthday party. Now, we still need drinks..."
In half the time it would have taken Bridget, she thought, the trolley was full and they were paying for everything and then loading it into the car.
"I'm amazed," said Bridget again, shaking her head. "You, Rebecca Napier, deserve a medal: Children's Party Shopper Extraordinaire! I would be in there for another three hours if it was me – it's taken us less than an hour!"
"Well, I've had a lot of practise," said Rebecca again, but she looked touched and patted Bridget's knee. "Come on, let's get this home and have a cuppa."
A little while later everything was packed away and Bridget and Rebecca were sitting on the sofa with steaming mugs of tea and Bridget sighed again.
"It's making me dread the teenage years even more," she said, thinking of her sister again. "And making me wonder if I should hope to have a boy this time!"
"Well, it wasn't always that easy with Declan, you remember that criminal phase?"
"Of course I do!"
"There you are then. I guess really it depends on the kid."
"So really, I'm doomed either way," sighed Bridget. "Thanks for all the help, Rebecca."
"Do you want help decorating the house?"
"Thanks, but we're going to do it all after Indy's gone to bed so it's a surprise in the morning."
"Good luck with her going to sleep tonight!"
"I know, I know," said Bridget, sighing and laughing. "Stay for another drink?"
"All right."
So Rebecca stayed a little longer and after hearing that Bridget was making India's cake, she got out all the baking equipment and would have made it for her had Bridget promised her that it was fine, so she hugged and kissed her goodbye and said she would see her tomorrow. Bridget waved her goodbye as she got into her car and then set about making the cake.
Bridget was not much of a masterbaker but she followed the instructions perfectly and, after wiping a little flour from her face, left the cake to cook in the oven when she went to pick up her daughter, who was jumping around with excitement.
"The teacher gave me a card!" she squealed. "Even though it's not my birthday until tomorrow! Mummy, I'm going to be seven tomorrow!"
"I know, I know," said Bridget who had heard practically the same story that morning. "Come on darling, let's get home and you can tell me all about your day."
So they went home, India chattering all the way, and it was only when Bridget settled her with a glass of cordial and her favourite cartoon that she could slow down for five minutes. She checked on the cake quickly, which seemed to be rising okay, and, pleased, went and sat with India until Declan got back.
"Daddy!" shrieked India when she heard him come in and ran up to him and gave him a hug.
"Hey," he said, grinning, "how're my two girls?"
Suddenly he frowned and wrinkled his nose.
"What's that smell?"
Bridget gasped and went as quickly as she could to the kitchen, but it was too late. The cake was burnt and not even slightly.
"I followed the instructions perfectly," she wailed. "How has it burnt?!"
"Didge, I don't know. It's okay."
"I ruined our little girl's birthday cake!"
"Hey, it's okay," said Declan, alarmed, as Bridget looked like she was about to cry. "You're sounding a bit like Miranda! Look, it's okay. I'll sort it out," and he shut himself in the kitchen, not accepting any help, and by the time they were eating dinner a new cake was in the oven and by the time India was starting to get ready for bed on it had risen perfectly.
"You can bake?" exclaimed Bridget. "Why have you never told me?!"
He looked embarrassed.
"I didn't know I could."
"If you hadn't saved the day I'd accuse you of pretending not to," said Bridget, but she gave him a kiss to show she was happy.
Bridget gave India a bath and washed her hair, which she wasn't happy about and when the shampoo ran into her eyes she shouted.
"If you'd kept them closed that wouldn't have happened," said Bridget in frustration. "Don't you want nice hair for your party tomorrow?"
"No!"
Bridget hoped slightly that when her hair was dry, combed and she was in her pyjamas betime would be easier but India was too excited to go to sleep and she kept coming out of her bedroom when Bridget and Declan were trying to decorate and blow up balloons. Bridget began to seriously reconsider her idea of decorating the house after she had gone to bed but it was too late now.
"Indy, go back to bed!" cried Bridget when her daughter wandered in and she grabbed her hand and took her back, tucking her in.
"Is it my birthday yet?"
"No, not for hours. Go to sleep and it will be in the morning."
"Can I help decorate?"
"No, you need some sleep before your party tomorrow. It's bedtime now. I love you, goodnight."
India still got up a few more times but finally, but half past eleven, the house was quiet, still, but, most importantly, decorated, and Bridget and Declan sat exhausted under all the balloons, streamers and the Happy Birthday banner.
"I want to go to bed now," groaned Declan, a deflated balloon hanging limply in his hand.
"Me too. Come on."
They stopped off at India's room and smiled. Their daughter lay with one leg sticking out of the covers and her mouth slightly open, clutching her blanket and her teddy and Bridget felt her eyes well up.
"She can't be seven tomorrow. She was only born yesterday."
"I know," said Declan quietly.
"It does seem like yesterday, doesn't it?" said Bridget in a hushed voice. "That we were at the festival and it was so scary. I was scared you wouldn't make it."
"I nearly didn't. I ran all the way."
"I needed you there," she said, taking his hand. "She needed both of us too."
"If you had to, I know you could have done it alone."
"I don't know," said Bridget and she smiled and shook her head. "I just know that I was never so happy to see you. And where's out baby gone?" she sniffled. "She was here yesterday."
"You know, in ten years' time you'll be asking where your seven-year-old's gone," teased Declan and Bridget gave him a push.
"Oh, stop it. Well, it's not ten years away. It's now and my baby is seven."
Bridget looked at her little girl and felt like crying. When she had been pregnant and India had been born it felt like her arrival and babyhood were lasting forever and then, suddenly, out of nowhere it felt, India had stopped being a baby and shot up into a child, and Bridget wasn't ready for it. How could her parents have felt when she had become a teenager? How could she ever be ready for India being a teenager when she wasn't prepared for her being a child? She wished she could stop time to enjoy those moments for longer and looked at India, remembering her birth.
"She was so tiny."
"I know," said Declan gently.
She sniffled again and Declan gave her a kiss and squeezed her hand, and Bridget quietly went and gave India a kiss, who stirred slightly in her sleep and then went to bed herself feeling sad and happy all at once.
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