‘I’ll go and get you another ice cream, Lizzie. I’ll be back in a minute,’ she promised.
True to her word, she returned a few minutes later with an even bigger ice cream cone, with two flakes in it. I was delighted and thanked her profusely. Jodie eyed the cone enviously, so I gave her one of the flakes, dipped in ice cream.
I saw Ally, her mother and little brother a few times throughout the morning and we all waved at each other.
Then lunchtime, we sat down on the wooden benches in the picnic area to eat our packed lunches. Ally, her mother and little brother were sitting at another table, but me and Jodie waved to Ally and called her over, so she squeezed onto the bench next to me and we all chatted away.
Jodie had a cheese roll and Ally had egg and cress sandwiches made with thin brown bread, they looked so dainty and tasty. My mum usually gave me thin brown bread too but we were out of it that morning, so Mum had to use the thick bread Dad liked. It was twice as thick as Ally’s bread and the crusts were hard. I bit into the middle of the bread, nibbling around the crusts as I chatted to Jodie and Ally.
‘Right everyone, put your rubbish in your lunchboxes and let’s get going,’ our teacher said.
I didn’t want to put my crusts in my lunchbox. Mum would scold me if she saw I had left them, she was always telling me to eat my crusts, but I couldn’t eat these, they were thick and hard. I needed a bin. Only there wasn’t time to find one, everyone was getting up to follow the teacher. I’d be left behind.
Ally’s lunchbox was open. Her empty crisp bag was in there, and her chocolate bar wrapper. I glanced at her, she was busy talking to her friend and not watching me, so I quickly scooped up my crusts and thrust them into the empty crisp packet. Then I shut my lunchbox, got up, shouted goodbye and went off with the rest of my class.
We were going to see the chimps when suddenly there was a commotion in front of us. I could see Ally’s mum standing by the bin, holding her throat, she was crying and wheezing. She couldn’t seem to breathe.
Ally screamed something about getting a pen and raced over to the table where her mum had left her bag. There was a crowd around her mum now, teachers and other mothers all trying to help. Her little brother was standing all alone, crying, then one of the mums held his hand and talked to him, trying to comfort him.
Ally returned a couple of minutes later shouting, ‘I’ve got it!’
I couldn’t see what she was holding, but a teacher grabbed it off her and bent down by her mum. I couldn’t see properlybecause there were so many people around. Soon the sirens sounded and an ambulance pulled up.
‘Stand back! Stand back!’ the paramedics shouted as they ran over and the crowd parted.
But it was too late. Ally and her little brother’s mum was dead.
25
JUDITH
Sheila’s words keep going over and over in my mind. The woman who died from anaphylacticshock on Lizzie’s school trip all those years ago must have been George’s wife.
It is too much of a coincidence for it not to be.
Then another thought occurs to me. What if Lizzie’s peanut butter sandwiches had been the cause of the poor woman’s fatal allergic reaction? I know that they didn’t go to the same school but they might have sat at the same table.
It’s a big if. Surely there would have been other children with peanut butter sandwiches, or a peanut snack bar.
Poor Lizzie had been so traumatised, she’d actually witnessed the poor woman die. If she even suspected that it was her sandwiches that caused it, it would destroy her. As it was she refused to eat peanut butter ever again. I think she had it in her head that she might have a bad reaction like that too, although I tried to reassure her that eating peanuts could only kill you if you were allergic to them, but she still refused. Wouldn’t even let me have peanut butter in the house. And still won’t have it in her house. That was the start of her anxiety problems.
They got worse when she became a teacher and a child in her class suffered an anaphylacticshock too. She saved him, butit seemed to push her over the edge. She had a total nervous breakdown and never returned to teaching in a classroom. Even now, her anxiety is always hovering in the background, ready to rear its head when there’s any setback or problem. Poor Lizzie lives on her nerves.
My phone rings. It’s George, checking up on me again. The sound of his voice always cheers me up.
‘Hello, darling, how are you feeling today?’
‘Much better,’ I tell him. ‘I think I’m over the bug now and Alison has got me some different painkillers. We think the co-codamol doesn’t agree with me.’
‘Perfect. I’ve messaged Alison to let her know I’m bringing some lamb chops home for tea. We’ll soon have you on your feet again.’
He knows that I love lamb. ‘Thank you, darling.’
We chat for a while and then George has to go as a customer has come in.
‘Do you want a cuppa, Mum? And shall we sit out in the garden for a bit?’ Alison asks.
‘That sounds a good idea,’ I reply. I reach for the wheeled walker which is placed by the bed and she rushes over to help me.
