Remy smiled at Ashleigh, hoping to make her laugh, knowing her sister was well aware that she could recite all of the times tables perfectly in her sleep.
‘I don’t know, Ruthie, do we?’
This did the trick, and Ashleigh laughed loudly; the glass of orange squash shook in her hand, spilling over the wipe-clean tablecloth, and Remy’s tummy felt warmed.
It was all going to be okay.
Ashleigh
‘Here we are then, girls! We need to get a wiggle on as your dad needs the car back pronto. He’s heading up to Bristol and won’t thank me if he’s late. But I wanted to drive you in – no bus for my little smarty-pants, not today.’
Ashleigh gave a brief nod of understanding, although why all the fuss she wasn’t sure. She liked getting the bus, liked sitting with Tony, their friend, swapping their news, not that they had much news, and more often than not spoke about what they’d had for their tea. She looked out of the window on her side of the car, the right. She always sat on the right. Remy did likewise on the left.
‘Now’ – her mum adjusted the rear-view mirror, and spoke into it – ‘don’t forget, you are to have an early lunch – your form teacher is aware – then Miss Delaney will meet you by the minibus at the front of the school and she will waitinthe minibus while you take the exam.’
That word, again . . .
It did little to help her nerves, hearing the plan, the schedule. Her mum pulled out the choke, turned the key, and the car juddered as the engine sputtered into life. Ashleigh wondered how badly she would be injured if she jumped out of the moving car. This wasn’t a suicide mission, nothing like that! What she was after was the kind of injury that could mean a few hours in the casualty department, long enough to miss the trip to St. Jude’s, and maybe a cast on her arm, to show authenticity and commitment to the cause. Yes, a broken arm would do it. Her writing arm! That would be perfect, but would it hurt? She wasn’t very good with pain, and how awful if she sustained something horribly damaging or permanent. It felt risky, too risky. Maybe a faint might be better when they arrived? A graceful fall on to the playground floor, or, or ... vomiting! That would be easy! She again felt nausea rise in her throat. A quick but meaningful vomit, all over her skirt and T-bar shoes, thus guaranteeing a trip home to get changed, suggesting enoughof a bug that might mean isolation from all of her classmates and peers. This felt like the only option.
‘Then she’ll drive you all back,’ her mum continued, ‘and I will collect you from school as normal, only it won’t be as normal, as I’ll be driving you home, and it will all be done and you, my clever babies, will have taken the first step on the wonderful path that means so many great things!’
Four spare bedrooms!her sister mouthed at her, and rolled her eyes, before returning her gaze to the window.
Ashleigh felt her legs tense.
‘I’ve checked your bags, and you’ve got pencil cases, an apple, and a little note each, not to be read until you are in the minibus. A kind of good luck and go-get-’em note!’
It felt like there was little point in reading it, now her mother had revealed the contents.
‘You are both very quiet in the back there, little doves!’
‘Why do you call us doves?’ she had asked once.
Her mum had explained with her hand at her throat and tears in her eyes.
‘On the day you were born, I remember sitting on the side of the bed in the ward, I was tired, so tired, but I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to stare at those two perfect little babies who slept holding hands, always within reach of each other. I thought my heart might explode! I’d never felt love like it, not before, not since. You were both so beautiful – miracles! Two babies from one egg, rare and special. I was overwhelmed and just to think of it now makes me cry.’She had wiped her eyes as if to prove the point.‘And then, I heard a sound on the windowsill and when I looked there were two white doves, pretty things with keen eyes and beautiful feathers, and they were looking right at me, looking right at you two! And so I called you my own little doves, and that was that.’
Ashleigh thought of it now and wished she were a little dove, an actual bird, who could, just for today, simply fly away.
Remy
Remy discovered Tony Newman sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cloakroom. It didn’t seem to bother him that people had to navigate around him as they tried to stash their bags and coats for the day, clambering over him to pop things on to their pegs. His head was propped on his hand, elbow on his bony knee, and he stared at the floor.
‘What’s the matter, Tony?’
She dropped to the floor and sat in front of him. He was her and Ashleigh’s best friend, and the kindest boy she knew.
‘Nothing.’ His reply was unconvincing, but his voice sounded a lot like there wassomethingwrong and so she took his hand and held it briefly inside hers.
‘Where’s Ashleigh?’ He looked over her shoulder.
‘She’s gone for a wee.’
He gave a single nod.
‘You can tell me what’s wrong,’ she whispered, ‘I’m your best friend.’
This made him smile and he met her gaze. ‘I didn’t like you not being on the bus. I got a bit ...’ He ran out of words, but his fingers twitched, his face crumpled, and she understood. He often got a bit ...
