The Good Turn, page 16
‘Yep, yep, now this is the one. What do you think, Josie?’ Mum said between seedy-red mouthfuls, shoving her phone under my nose. There was a bright-blue baby’s car seat on her screen. I looked up at her. ‘It’s good, right?’ She smiled.
None of this mattered to me, or to anyone else but her really, but I pretended to care. ‘Wonderful,’ I offered flatly.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Mum, pulling away. She looked out at me from the corner of her eye. How could I tell her what the matter was even if I wanted to? I didn’t want to share. I couldn’t. This was my problem. It was on me to find a solution. I shook my head and said nothing. I looked up at her and smiled, biting my lip to stop it trembling.
Dad weaved his way round us at the dining table, holding the large pot with his oven-gloved hands. He leaned over, setting it down heavily on a placemat next to the salad, which instantly wilted from the heat. He ladled its contents into our bowls. Mushroom risotto. It looked fine, and I’m sure it smelled great, but I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t hungry now. Who knew if I would ever get my appetite back?
I nodded my thanks at Dad. He looked back at me closely, nodding in return. He snuck a look at Mum, who bit angrily at her lips, but her eyes filled with concern. She stared down at her dinner, and so did I. That was easier for everyone. It was for the best.
I picked up my fork and poked at the rice. As I put it to my lips to taste and to be polite to my parents, questions about Felix and Audrey raced through my mind. Did they make it to Chicane? How? Are they eating tonight? Do they even have food? Did we eat it all yesterday? The biggest, most important question was, of course: what am I going to do? I had no answers, not for any of those questions. My eyes burned, stung and welled with tears.
The moment I tasted the risotto, I knew my dad had made it with love and care. I was reminded of how lucky I was to be with my family, knowing that I was safe and secure; that I could sleep in a comfortable bed and have a shower in the morning without worry; that however annoyed my mum might be with me – and me with her – she would still be there for me, whatever happened. No matter what, I had people I could rely on. The Braithwaites didn’t. This realization burned my chest. Boiling tears rolled down my face. I quickly tried to wipe them away. I didn’t want my parents to see me cry.
‘Jo, why are you crying?’ asked Dad, grabbing my hand. Too late. ‘What’s going on? You don’t like your dinner?’
Mum put her fork down. ‘It’s not the dinner, is it, Pat? It’s the car seat, isn’t it? It’s her brother.’ She looked over at me. ‘Josie, I thought we had moved past this.’
I wished either of the Braithwaites had a brother – someone, anyone, they could turn to today without fear. I burst into more tears at that thought. ‘I’m sorry,’ I sobbed between breaths. ‘Can I be excused, please?’ I didn’t wait for a response. I pushed myself away from the table and ran up the stairs to my room.
I sat at my desk and threw open my laptop. Think, Josephine, think! I urged myself, but I didn’t know where to start or where to search. The only results I produced were more tears, which fell in fat drops on to the black keys.
There was a knock at my door, and before I could say ‘come in’ my dad pushed it open. He sighed at my puffy face and red eyes, then sat down on the bed. ‘You need to talk?’ he asked, smoothing my duvet. ‘Because I think we need to. This –’ he waved his hands at me, and around the room – ‘has got to stop.’ I swallowed and looked at my screen. I put my head in my hands.
‘Dad,’ I said, between my fingers, ‘how and why do good things end up turning out so bad?’
I could feel his concern without seeing his face. ‘You in trouble?’ The volume of his voice rose at least two levels.
I spun round in my chair. ‘No, I’m not. Not yet, anyway.’
‘This about Wesley’s mum? Have you spoken to him?’
‘No.’
‘Your brother, then?’
I paused for a moment. ‘No. Not really,’ I said, knowing it partly was.
‘Well, what is it? You can’t carry on like this, Jo.’
I shook my head. ‘I know, Dad, but I can’t tell you,’ I whispered. ‘It might make it worse.’
‘Why is it so bad, then?’ he asked. ‘Can you at least tell me that?’
‘Because it’s not fair, Dad! None of it is.’
Dad narrowed his eyes and stood tall. ‘This is about the baby, isn’t it? Life just isn’t fair, Jo – I’m sorry to say that, but there it is. It also doesn’t always revolve around you and what you want –’
‘This isn’t about me, Dad!’ I shouted. ‘You’ve got it wrong!’
‘– and you have to think of others, talk with others. They can help! We can help.’
‘I do, and I know!’ I said. I raised my hands in frustration.
He stood up. ‘Well, if you know that, then you have to do better,’ he said. ‘Better than this.’ He closed the door and I burst into tears.
Sharing
A problem shared is a problem halved?
I’m comfortable admitting I cried a lot last night. So much so that my face was still swollen in the morning. After a hot shower and dressing for school, I splashed cold water over my red, puffy eyes. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, studying my reflection. This morning, I didn’t like what looked back at me. I saw a girl – one without a firm answer to the question of the Braithwaites’ uncertain future. A girl jealous of a baby and what his birth would bring – and mean – for her. A girl too proud to ask her friends and family for help and support.
My stomach knotted as I walked down the stairs. I skipped breakfast and saying good morning, goodbye or anything in between to my parents. I chose the doughnut instead, and headed straight there. Overnight someone – or something – had performed magic. It wasn’t me, or anything I had done but, of course, I wish it had been. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to do it. The mattress – Wesley’s budget bouncy castle – had disappeared from the centre of the doughnut. Gone. I was pleased to see it go, but I knew Wesley would be sad.
Wesley’s and Margot’s front doors opened at about the same time and they ran down their driveways, rushing to meet me in the middle. We nodded our good mornings and began walking towards Copsey Avenue.
Margot grabbed at my arm. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night, Jo. I’m so scared and nervous for the Braithwaites.’
‘Me too.’ I nodded. ‘It was hard to concentrate last night. I didn’t feel great.’
‘Yeah, you look a bit rough,’ said Wesley, looking me up and down.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘But I did do a bit of research. This has happened to other people – Felix and Audrey aren’t alone in fighting for their right to stay in the country.’
Margot shook her head. ‘This is awful.’
‘We need to work out the ways we can prove they are allowed to live here,’ I said. ‘And speak to a lawyer – one specializing in immigration. But I don’t know how yet, or how to pay for it.’ I smiled weakly at them. ‘We’ll earn our investigating and lawyering badges in the process, but for now we should keep it to ourselves until the plan is ready.’
Margot and Wesley quickly glanced at each other. Wesley tutted. ‘See what I mean?’ he said quietly.
Margot stared at the concrete and shifted on her feet. ‘Wes, no.’
‘Wes?’ I said. ‘Since when have you called him Wes? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ said Margot, shaking her head. ‘So, I haven’t done this yet – I wanted to check with everyone first – but Dad could help. Immigration is not his area, I know, but I could talk to him and he’ll know someone.’ She smiled at me. ‘He loved that you were interested in law, by the way.’
I shook my head. ‘No. I think for now the idea I keep coming back to is –’ I sighed. ‘Is to just keep being helpful and quiet. Keep visiting, and keep taking things that make them comfortable and cheerful.’
‘Are you serious?’ Wesley exploded.
‘Wes!’ Margot said. ‘Don’t!’
‘That’s your idea?’ he said. ‘Doing basically nothing but earning badges? That’s all you care about? Your plan for the Copseys?’ he spat.
I instantly stopped walking and stared at Wesley. The three of us huddled together at the end of the close. ‘No, no!’ I demanded. ‘And it’s not doing nothing! It’s something. It’s the best I’ve got right now. What do you want to do?’
Wesley scratched his forehead and rubbed his eyebrows. ‘I dunno, but not that. It’s not enough, but this is still too much for me, and Margot too.’
I swung my head to look at her. ‘What?’
‘It does feel beyond our control,’ Margot whispered.
‘Look,’ said Wesley. ‘I only got involved in this Copsey business for a little fun break from home stuff – but, now, being there is easier than having this weighing on me. The stress is starting to physically hurt!’ He rubbed his stomach. ‘I can feel the fear crawling about in my guts,’ he groaned.
‘Wesley,’ I said quietly. ‘We’ll figure it out.’ I put my hand on his shoulder.
‘See, I don’t think we will, though,’ he said softly. ‘That’s the thing.’ He looked in my eyes. ‘We have to tell someone, Josie. ASAP. Come on – you must know that? You gotta know your limits. We can’t keep this a secret, not for much longer. It’s bigger than us. Bigger than your badges.’
I bit my lip to stop it trembling. ‘We will figure it out, I promise,’ I pleaded. ‘Just give me one more day to think, then we can tell someone and get help. Please?’
Wesley sighed, and rolled his eyes.
‘Look, in the meantime, at school today, let’s go to lost property and see if we can find anything worth taking to Chicane – along with anything from home. We’ll go after school, and talk to Felix and Audrey about what to do next.’ I looked at my friends. ‘Deal?’
Wesley closed his eyes and sighed. He turned to kick the mattress, but of course it wasn’t there. ‘Fine,’ he huffed. ‘I don’t like it, but fine.’
Margot nodded. ‘OK, deal.’ She looked at Wesley. ‘See, that went well.’
I stood still and raised my hands. ‘Wait. What do you mean “That went well”? Have … have you been talking about me behind my back?’
They looked at each other so cautiously that I knew they had. Margot took a deep breath. ‘Yes, but not really – it was nothing bad. Last night, after you left mine –’
‘I texted Margot because I was stressed about the situation – and you, innit,’ said Wesley with a shrug. ‘It ain’t a big deal.’
‘Not at all,’ said Margot.
It was to me. ‘Right. So, you’re friends now, and talking about me?’ I asked, feeling hurt, vulnerable and angry. ‘Great. That explains why you keep agreeing with each other.’
‘But I thought you wanted us to be friends?’ Margot asked. ‘Sometimes Wes makes good points.’
‘Good points?’ I spat, feeling my anger rising but not entirely sure why. ‘Like what?’ I demanded.
‘Well, for one, I could tell Margot wasn’t loving the idea of you leaving us in Chicane after she buckled –’
‘I was never leaving you, I –’
‘– or when you wanted to give our money from Mr Kirklees to Mr King for the Christmas party. To basically make yourself look good – because, let’s be real, that’s what that was. And you’re heated about your baby brother, cos you’re selfish and jealous.’
My eyes narrowed and my temperature rose. ‘Is that right, Wesley?’
‘Yep,’ he said. ‘It is. You need to move from me –’ he poked my chest – ‘to we.’ He opened his arms widely.
I felt sick at his words, and angry because part of me felt he might be right. ‘Well,’ I said, not knowing exactly where this was going, but feeling it wasn’t anywhere good. ‘Did you have a good point when you read Margot’s notebooks on Sunday?’ I smiled smugly, but I didn’t feel smug. I felt terrible. I felt hurt, stung to the core.
Margot’s mouth hung open in shock. ‘What? You did what?’
Wesley looked at her with big bugged-out eyes. ‘Josie, what the hell? I’m sorry, Margot. I am sorry. Your coloured room hypnotized me and I –’
‘What did you read?’ she asked, panicked. ‘What did you see?’ Margot glared at me. ‘I write about a lot of things in those books – things I can’t and don’t want to talk about.’ She raised her eyebrow, so I was sure what she meant. I knew instantly. She’d been writing about Wesley’s mum.
‘Can’t remember, really,’ he said. ‘Something religious. It was good, though. And now I don’t think you’re a spy, so that’s cool, right?’
‘It’s not cool at all.’ Margot spun on her heels to stare at me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Jo?’ she shouted. It was the first time I’d ever heard Margot raise her voice.
‘Yeah, why did you tell her?’ said Wesley also glaring at me. He clenched his fists in anger.
‘I … I …’ I said, my eyes filling with tears.
Mr Kirklees, who had just opened his front door, shouted to us from his front yard. Brian trotted towards Wesley.
‘Children! Children!’ he said, leaning on his gate. ‘It’s too early for anger! What’s wrong?’ He gestured towards the close. ‘I thought you’d be pleased I got rid of that mattress for you. I don’t like mess – things being where they don’t belong frustrates me.’
Wesley breathed heavily, his eyes burning through me. ‘I’m gonna tell him,’ he said through gritted teeth, jerking his head in Mr Kirklees’s direction. ‘For my health and whatever that just was.’ He stomped across the street then bent down to pet Brian, who wagged his tail appreciatively.
‘No, wait, don’t,’ shouted Margot, eyeing Mr Kirklees with suspicion. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.’
‘Tell me what?’ asked Mr Kirklees, confused.
Margot and I crossed the road and I stepped in front of my possibly-former friends and laughed lightly. Unconvincingly. ‘Ah, Wesley didn’t get a good night’s sleep,’ I said. I put my hand down across his shoulder and tried to turn him away. ‘He’s a bit tired.’
‘I’m not tired! I ain’t a baby.’ He shrugged out of my hug and stood up. ‘You’re the one that’s tired – look at you! Me? I’m upset!’ He held his chest, and tears formed in his eyes. Mr Kirklees gave me a confused look, and I shook my head to try to stop him from asking further questions.
‘Wesley, please don’t,’ I whispered gently. ‘I’m sorry.’
Wesley began to cry. ‘Mr Kirklees,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘Our friends are homeless and in big trouble!’
My shoulders slumped, and I threw my head towards the sky, wishing the plane passing by could just land, collect me and take me anywhere else but here.
‘Stop, stop,’ said Margot, reaching for his elbow. Wesley twisted his body away from her, too.
‘They’ve been living in Chicane over there.’ He pointed. ‘Because they’re actually going to get deported! They don’t deserve that – they need help. That factory is a disaster. It’s falling apart. It’s no place to live.’
I buried my face in my hands. ‘Wes, stop,’ I pleaded between my fingers.
Mr Kirklees winced. ‘Oh no, that’s terrible! Terrible indeed,’ he said, drawing breath between his teeth. ‘How old are your friends? Can they go home to their parents? Do you know their family?’
‘No!’ said Wesley, shaking his head. ‘That’s the thing – they don’t have family. Their parents are long dead. They’re old – like, your age.’ He looked at the concrete. ‘Sorry, but you know what I mean.’ Mr Kirklees smiled gently and nodded. ‘They used to work there – in Chicane – years ago. They were even friends with my grandad Alan who worked with them.’
Mr Kirklees stumbled backwards and leaned on his garden wall. His hand covered his mouth. ‘My goodness,’ he said. ‘This is shocking. Appalling!’ His eyes darted between the three of us, then he pointed with his finger curled. ‘I … I can help you.’ ‘There are definitely some things I can do to help your friends. Come by after school and let’s talk then.’
Wesley breathed a deep sigh of relief, which seemed to instantly lift the weight of his worries from his shoulders. He leaned against the wall next to Mr Kirklees and stroked Brian. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you both so much!’ Wesley looked at me and nodded his head towards Mr Kirklees, suggesting I also express my gratitude, but I didn’t want to. This situation here was the exact opposite of what should have happened – the plan was now completely out of my hands and my friends were mad with me. None of this felt good. I glanced over at Margot, who was looking at me with a raised eyebrow and also waiting for my reaction.
I swallowed hard. ‘We appreciate that, Mr Kirklees. That’s very kind of you.’ I smiled, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
Scavenging
Dig deeper, dig it out!
The rest of our walk to school was awkward, tense and silent. I replayed Wesley’s words over and over in my head. From me to we. My friends thought I was selfish, and so did my parents. They thought that everything I did – every choice I made – benefited me and my needs first and foremost. Margot wore a disappointed look on her face, and mostly stared at the pavement. Wesley was brighter; his backpack bounced on his shoulders as we walked. He glanced over at me, but when he caught my eye he looked away, kissing his teeth. The fabric of the Copseys was coming apart at the seams. I had to mend this. It was up to me to make us we again, ironically.
‘Margot, Wesley,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Are you, though?’ said Wesley.
‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘I just wish you hadn’t told Mr Kirklees –’
‘See?’ he said, raising his hands. ‘You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry for yourself, because you’re not in charge of everything and everyone. I wish you hadn’t told Margot that I read her book either, but here we are.’ He turned to Margot. ‘Again, I am sorry about that. That wasn’t cool.’
‘It’s … whatever,’ said Margot, but I knew she was hurt by both of us. I shook my head and turned away. I didn’t want them to see my tears.
