It was one evening just as they were finishing eating a delicious pudding Myra had invented that she said, ‘Do you remember the picture you did, Oliver, of the sea and the sailing boat and that wicked octopus and the cheeky mermaid? It set me thinking.’
They waited in complete silence while she scraped her dish totally clean and could speak without her mouth full of pudding.
‘You remember I cut up all those dreadful tea cosies I used to make, every single blessed one of them and all the material waiting to be used?’
The three of them nodded somewhat hesitantly, wary of what she might be going to say and also because they knew how painful it had all been for her.
‘I have to admit that for years I have had no new design ideas, but . . . there’s something exceptional about the expression in the octopus’s eyes and that cheeky look the mermaid has, it’s made me want to get sewing again. It’s made me have new ideas – and that’s all because of your genius, Oliver.’
Oliver’s jaw dropped at such unprecedented praise from Myra.
‘What is it you’ve been thinking about?’ Graham asked.
‘Something I could pour my heart into, but something I could also perhaps even sell, eventually – if people like them. Do you remember that quilt I made when we first married, Graham? All those different materials, all those patterns? Well, Oliver’s collage reminded me of how much I used to love it. It made me think that perhaps it was time to make another quilt. And this first one, to get me back in the habit, would be a special one – it would be a memory quilt. While you’ve been at school and work, I’ve not just been walking Tyke. I’ve been looking at all the bags we brought from your old house, boys. There are all sorts of things in there – old baby clothes, some of your dad’s shirts, even a dress or two of your mum’s. They’re mostly too worn out to be reused as they are, but there’s enough fabric to be made into a quilt – all your history, all the people that have loved you, we could even design it together.’
Everyone was quiet for a moment. ‘It would be like having a hug from all those people.’ said Piers. ‘I’d love it.’
Ideas and questions tumbled from their mouths, in quick succession.
‘I could help you choose colours,’ said Oliver. ‘Help cut the pieces out once we have a design . . .’
‘Someone at school brought in a teddy bear made from their old school uniform – we could make those, too, couldn’t we?’ Piers added excitedly.
‘Or what about other cuddly animals, too – all made out of people’s special old clothes and memories? We could give them really funny and cheeky expressions, too!’ said Oliver, fired up with enthusiasm.
Myra stopped coming up with ideas and waited for their responses.
‘We could even make one for Tyke!’ This from Graham who was carried away with the idea.
Myra said to Oliver, ‘We could share the money we make – and it would be money, that’s if we did well at it, you could keep for university, let it pile up, you know. If it was successful.’
Oliver said nothing. His mind was racing around the idea so intensely he couldn’t find time to say anything. Was this the answer for Myra? Was this the answer for him and Piers? Something to work on together – something to make a bit of money for the future – even thinking of that many years ahead felt amazing to him. Did this mean Piers and him definitely had a permanent home? He knew Graham and Myra said this was their permanent home, but he’d still feared they could be out in a flash until this last week or two. First Tyke joining the family and now thinking of the future in terms of years, not just days. Then his head spun back to thoughts of all the animals they could make, the designs they could do, and he was fascinated, completely grabbed by the prospect.
‘It sounds like a very good idea. But where would we sell them?’
‘To begin with I’d get a stall at this year’s Christmas Fair again. I know I cancelled my stall but they’ve always had spare stalls. I’ll ring her tonight.’
Oliver panicked. ‘No! No! Let’s sleep on it. It needs a lot of thinking about it. It would mean a lot of work between now and Christmas and don’t forget you’ve got our grandparents coming.’
A mischievious smile flitted across Myra’s face. ‘I haven’t invited them . . . yet. I should have done but I haven’t. So I won’t. I know you boys weren’t keen on having Granny Butler here and I know full well she’ll be mightily relieved to be free of toys and mayhem and noise on Christmas Day. And Granny and Grandpa Steward live so far away they’ll probably be glad to avoid the travel. We could plan a trip to see them in the new year, instead perhaps?’
‘Very well,’ said Graham. ‘It’ll be just the four of us on Christmas Day. A real family Christmas. And that will leave you with more time to work on the memory quilt before the fair in December.’
‘Myra! Shall I be able to help? I don’t know what I could do. On the stall perhaps, taking the money?’
‘You’ll need to help, Piers, we couldn’t manage without him, could we Oliver? Especially if you’re going to get money from it for your savings account. Now I’ll clear the table and the kitchen, the two of you get stuck into making a list of animals. We’ll need smart leaflets and logos too. It all helps to sell things does smart design, especially as we shall be taking orders for Christmas presents to start with. Or . . . maybe . . . I know! We should make one or two bears, as well the memory quilt, so that will give people more of an idea of what they’re ordering. They’ll see the quality and get an idea of all the different things they could send to us to include. We’ll have to have a big think about it, won’t we?’
The kitchen table didn’t get cleared until half past eight and Piers was still coming up with ideas while he was under the shower. He stepped out twice to shout downstairs about a new idea he’d had and left a trail of decidedly wet footprints right across the bathroom floor. But back under the water, tears rolled down his cheeks. At least mixed with shower water no one would realise. Why he kept crying even in the middle of this wonderful time planning things for Myra he did not know and he called out to his dad, ‘Dad! Stop making me cry. Just please stop me Dad!’
Unbeknown to him Graham had come into the bathroom to hurry him up and help him get dried, and had overheard him begging his dad. Graham hastily vacated the bathroom, stood on the landing for a minute or two, and then re-entered noisily.
‘Finished yet, Piers? Time you were in bed even if it is Sunday tomorrow.’ Piers switched off the shower and Graham handed him his bath towel as Piers emerged from between the curtains. ‘I’ll go get your pyjamas, right? While you get dry. Cracking idea of Myra’s isn’t it?’
When he was tucked up in bed, Graham smoothed his hair down gently. ‘You mustn’t be surprised if you still get sad about your dad. You know that, don’t you? You’re allowed to miss him – even when you’re having fun with Tyke or thinking about Christmas with us. The people we’ve lost never really leave us – they’re always in our thoughts.’
Piers was quiet for a moment. ‘You knew my mum didn’t you, Graham?’
‘Of course. She was a beautiful lady. Not just in how she looked because she was beautiful, but inside herself, a very lovely lady. I’m just sorry you were never able to know her. She would have been so proud of you.’
‘Was my dad proud of me?’
Graham didn’t hesitate for one single moment. ‘My word, yes he was. People used to ask when your mum was waiting for you to arrive, ‘Do you hope it’s a girl this time?’ but your dad said ‘I’d like another boy, I’m sure that’s what it is.’ And he was right.’
‘Good. Thank you. Would you rather I was a girl? One of each you know.’
‘Not a bit of it. I wouldn’t change anything about you or your brother for the world.’
‘I forgot to say goodnight to Tyke, will you say it for me to him?’
‘I shall be delighted to do that very thing. Goodnight Piers.’
‘Goodnight, Dad. See you in the morning.’ He rolled over, closed his eyes and switched off before he began crying again and then remembered he’d said ‘Goodnight, Dad.’ To his Uncle Graham. And felt a fool. Best keep his eyes shut. Sometimes he did wonder about himself. About everything really. About growing up without his mum and now no dad. Would it make him peculiar? He was the only boy in his class with neither mother nor father. The only one. Two boys had no dad because they’d left their mums. One boy’s dad had been killed in Afganistan, so that made four of them without dads. But at least the other three had their mums. Maybe one day Graham and Myra might change into Dad and Mum, then he’d be like the others and could talk about his dad and his mum so when he moved to Oliver’s school no one would know he was really an orphan. Ah! But then they would know Oliver had no mum and no dad wouldn’t they? He’d ask Oliver if he’d told anyone about them being orphans. Piers practiced saying Mum, and Dad, and it felt funny. Mum was the hardest to say. He’d ask him right away because he could hear him coming up the stairs.
When he arrived in their bedroom Piers asked Oliver the big question. ‘Oliver, at your school do they know you’re an orphan like me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everybody knows?’
‘Well, at first it was just my friends, but I think it was bound to get out. I just assume everyone knows now.’
‘Doesn’t it make you feel weird?’
‘Nothing they can say makes me feel any weirder than I do already after these last few months. And anyway, most people aren’t mean about it, or even nice about it. They’re just kind of awkward and don’t know what to say. So most people just sort of ignore it.’ Oliver got into bed.
‘You haven’t cleaned your teeth and you haven’t washed your face.’
‘So?’
‘You should. Every night. Dad said.’
‘Can’t say it now can he?’
Piers was silenced by Oliver’s stone-cold cruelty.
‘I know he can’t, but you shouldn’t not get washed and not clean your teeth.’
‘It was him went and died, so what? I can do as I like now.’
‘You can’t. He still counts as our dad.’
Oliver thumped his pillow saying ‘Not any more he isn’t. Those days are gone. There’s no one to tell us what to do. No one. Absolutely no one.’ It sounded to Piers as though Oliver wished he did have someone who would tell him what to do.
‘There’s Uncle Graham.’
‘Huh!’
‘He is trying.’
‘Very trying. I agree.’
‘Oliver! I think it’s wonderful Myra thinking up this idea all because of your art proejct. Aren’t you pleased? I would be.’
‘That’s because you’re only ten.’
‘You were ten once.’
‘Not now I’m not. I’m nearly thirteen and I can see why.’
‘Why what?’
‘Piers! Shut up. Just shut up. I’ve gone to sleep. Right?’
‘You haven’t, you’re still speaking.’
Oliver beat Piers with his pillow as hard as he could, Piers objected and before they knew it they were fighting. Uncle Graham raced upstairs and switched on their bedroom light.
‘That will do boys. Thank you very much.’
‘It’s Oliver, Uncle Graham. Not me. He started it.’
Oliver protested. ‘He won’t shut up talking. It’s driving me mad.’
Piers shuddered as that familiar fear rose up from his stomach. Here it came roaring up his oesophagus and a great fountain of his bedtime hot chocolate poured out of his mouth all over the duvet before he had time to get to the bathroom. He froze. Froze solid. That beautiful image he’d had earlier of them being secure here at 12 Spring Gardens had vanished.
He heard Auntie Myra arrive in their bedroom but couldn’t look at her. She’d see the mess he’d made all over her bed linen and that would be that. In his mind, he faced the children’s home as bravely as he could. But he wasn’t brave, not at all. He was shaking with fear. There would be punishment, above and beyond, he knew it.
Uncle Graham took hold of him under his armpits and heaved him out of bed, and dragged off the disgusting mess that had been his duvet cover. Auntie Myra stripped his pyjamas off and quickly spirited a clean pair out of his pyjama drawer. She held on to him and calmed him down while Uncle Graham found a clean duvet cover and put it on. In what seemed like seconds Piers was back in bed. OK, the pillow case didn’t match the duvet but who cared, certainly not Piers.
Auntie Myra suggested that maybe the time had come for separate bedrooms. ‘We’ll discuss it in the morning over breakfast. Not now. Would you like that, Piers, your own bedroom? You have a think about it. Right?’
But he wasn’t thinking about bedrooms. He needed an immediate answer about children’s homes and such. ‘You’re not going to send me to a children’s home then?’
‘No. You have my absolute promise on that. You’re staying here. This is your home. Now, Piers Butler, bed and sleep and no more fighting.’ She kissed his cheek, gave him a hug, then another kiss, and tucked him into bed saying again, ‘No more fighting. Right?’
Oliver apologised too because he knew more than anyone how terrified Piers was about children’s homes. Delphine used to threaten him with it whenever she felt like it, being well aware how frightened Piers was about the whole idea. Thank heavens they weren’t with her any more. If his dad had ever known what a scary woman Delphine could be he would never have left them with her. When his dad was there Delphine was charming, thoughtful and very obviously a caring person but when he wasn’t there – which was an awful lot of the time, especially in the school holidays – she was a shocker. Oliver never let on about her because what alternative did his father have? As the older brother, he shielded Piers as much as he could, but not always successfully.
When Oliver knew Piers had at last fallen asleep he crept out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The sitting-room door was not quite closed so he tapped on it and then walked in. Both Myra and Graham were reading and they looked up surprised.
‘Sorry. I need to tell you something. It’s about Piers.’
Graham closed his book, patted the space next to himself on the sofa and said, ‘Sit down, Oliver, and say whatever you want to say here right now, don’t keep anything back. Auntie Myra and me, we’re both tough and if we need to know, just say it. If it helps.’
Oliver paused, wondering if he should go ahead.
‘Yes?’ prompted Myra. She closed her book and waited for him to speak.
‘He’s frightened about children’s homes because when Dad was in hospital, Delphine used to threaten to send him to one if he didn’t do exactly what she wanted. He dropped a jigsaw box once and all the pieces fell out on the carpet and she was furious, said that was it, she’d take him to one first thing the next morning, “and then you’ll see who looks after you the best. Me. Delphine. I do, and this is how you repay me. You won’t like it there. You won’t even have a jigsaw to drop. Nor top-of-the-shop computer games like you have now. Oh no! Nothing, because they can’t afford it.”’
He got no immediate response from either Myra nor Graham so he decided to go back upstairs. He slowly began to turn to go but Myra stopped him.
‘We’d no idea she did things like that. Poor Piers. I’m shocked. Thank heavens you’ve told us. Did she threaten you with it too?’
‘Once or twice, but Piers was a better target because he took it so badly. She preferred the stick for me. Dad didn’t realise what she was really like but he had no choice, had he? People willing to take on two boys don’t come along often, Especially in the school holidays. All day, every day. Dad was glad she lived so close to us. And she always put on her best side whenever Dad was there.’
Finally Graham spoke. ‘Thank you for telling us, Oliver. I appreciate you taking the time and explaining it so well. Myra and I will find the right moment and talk to Piers about it all and help him to rid himself of his demons. It was very wrong of her. He’s lucky to have such a caring older brother, it makes me very proud to be related to you. Would you like to sit down with us for a while in case there’s anything else you need to tell us that would help with Piers.’
Oliver, glad for their company, stayed where he was, wishing so hard it almost broke his heart, wishing his real dad was there and that they’d never met Delphine. ‘The other thing is . . . I don‘t know if I should say . . .’
Myra claimed that if what he wanted to say was the truth then he’d every right to say it, here and now.
‘I once saw her going through Mum’s jewellery and putting something in her pocket from out of the box. Dad kept it hidden in his bedroom and showed it to me once. I nearly told Dad but I daren’t because he’d have had to find someone else to care for us. Don’t tell her I told you, will you?’
Graham, faced by yet another unpleasntry to do with Delphine, sighed loudly. In front of Oliver he did not say a word, but waited until the boy had returned to bed after they’d reassured him he’d done the right thing by telling them.
Myra was furious. ‘How dare she, with her holier than thou attitude to us all.’ But before she could continue, Tyke made his presence felt. ‘Stop chewing my shoe, Tyke, if you please. Go away. You’re Graham’s dog too, so go chew his shoes.’
With no more ado, that was exactly what Tyke decided to do. It seemed a very attractive activity to a five-month-old puppy. Myra began to giggle, Graham to protest, and the two of them rolled about laughing so much they became helpless with laughter. Myra got up to rescue Graham from his torturer, tripped in the struggle to reach Tyke and at the same time stop him deciding to chew her shoes again, and between the two of them she fell on top of Graham, which made them laugh louder still. Their completely uncontrollable laughter delighted Tyke who was enjoying the trouble he was causing by clamping his teeth on their shoes time and again, harder and harder.
Oliver, halfway up the stairs, came back down again when he heard the fuss. But as he got back down the laughter stopped. He opened the door and for the first time, witnessed a real kiss between two adults related to him.
And what a kiss! This must have been what it was like when his dad still had his mum, he thought. He would never understand why grown-ups behaved the way they did – he didn’t know whether to be mortified or amused. Best just to be glad they were happy, he thought. He quietly shut the door and tiptoed back upstairs to bed.