Chapter 25

 

The train was full on the way home, but April managed to get a seat by indicating with her eyes to a young woman to shift her rucksack on the seat next to her.

Her distaste for public transport reared its ugly head and she closed her eyes to shut out the commuters. Today had been just the tonic she needed. Chloe and Noah meant everything to her. Apart from her job, her whole life had been supporting Chloe.

It started when they were very young. Their mother used to put them both to bed, and once she thought they were asleep, she would nip out of the house. April was never asleep although she did a good job of pretending. She would listen for the front door opening and closing quietly, and then run to the window and pull back the ghastly purple material that was supposed to be a curtain, but didn’t quite cover the whole window, and watch her mother walk away from the house. It puzzled her why her mother was dressed in flimsy clothes on those cold winter nights and didn’t have a coat, and her childish mind wondered where she went to and what was so important that she would leave her and Chloe alone.

Most nights she would get into Chloe’s bed with her and cuddle up. As she lay waiting for her mother to return, she would pray that she would change and be like the other mothers.

On a Monday morning at school, her teacher used to give them all a chance to speak at ‘show and tell’ in the classroom, about the activities they got up to at weekends. How she longed to swap places and visit the special places the rest of the class went to like the zoo, the park, or on a train, or to the cinema. It was baffling why her and Chloe never went on trips like that.

She said her prayers before she went to sleep each night, certain that God would make sure her and Chloe had nice trips, and she asked that her mother would stop in and not go out in the dark when they were in bed. But it seemed that they were not high on God’s priority list.

It was a boy at school that alerted her to exactly what her mother was doing. Not that she understood initially what the word prossie meant.

She recalled the summer’s day vividly. The sun was hot on the way to school even though it was only morning, and most of the children were wearing pretty sun hats and caps protecting them from the sun, but her and Chloe didn’t have hats for the summer, or even in the winter for that matter. They never wore hats like the other children.

On this particular day, she was to receive a certificate for attendance during assembly. The teacher had told her when her name was called out, she was to go onto the stage and take the certificate from the headmaster. She was to thank him and shake his hand.

There was no question of not attending school. Come hell or high water, she had to go. If she wasn’t feeling well, her mother would still make her go, and tell her the school would send her home if she got any worse. Many a time she’d be in school and felt poorly, and often the teacher would take pity on her and let her rest in the comfy reading corner. It was as if they knew something she didn’t.

At the special assembly, she’d waited while her name was called out and proudly took her certificate from the head. As she turned to walk down the three steps from the stage, she’d eagerly looked around the audience. Most of the children had their mothers there and in some cases, fathers clapping eagerly at their child’s achievements, but all she saw was Chloe, beaming away and clapping for her.

Their mother hadn’t come.

At playtime, she’d found Chloe in the playground on her own as usual. She sat down with her on the grass. They both wore the pretty hats that they’d been given by the teacher to protect them from the sun. They didn’t seem to be in groups like the rest of the girls skipping or playing tag. If they even got close to them, they’d pinch their noses at them and say they had the lergie whatever that was.

A painful image imprinted on her mind was of her and Chloe sat on the grass singing songs together when a couple of the older boys came past and sneered at them, “Your mum’s a prossie. Prossie, prossie, prossie.”

She’d grabbed Chloe’s arm and dragged her towards the school entrance to get away. It felt safer being near where the teacher stood supervising them all.

“What’s a prossie?” Chloe had asked.

She shook her head, genuinely unsure. She knew it wasn’t something nice though.

“Shall we ask Mrs Green?” Chloe persisted.

April knew whatever it was; it wasn’t something they should ask the teacher about.

“No, we don’t want to get mummy into trouble. I’ll find out what it is and tell you.”

It didn’t take long to find out exactly what a prossie was. It explained why their mother left them alone each night.

Other things started to fit into place. They’d had a talk from the school nurse about Michael in the class who was poorly. He had a special bag that seemed to go everywhere with him. The school nurse explained that he was often unwell, and they must all make sure they looked out for him and if he appeared poorly in any way, they should let the teacher know.

The school nurse then talked about medicines, and talked about doctors and nurses and how they must try to keep healthy by eating good nutritious food and cutting down on sugary snacks. At the end of the talk, they were asked to draw pictures about anything they’d talked about during the lesson. Some of her classmates on her table drew a bed with a nurse alongside. They put a red cross on her hat, and one boy drew an ambulance with a flashing light. Esme, had drawn a syringe with a needle on it as her mother had been diabetic. April decided she’d do something different. She’d drawn her mother’s bedroom. Her colourful picture was a dressing table full of tablets, and she’d even drawn a syringe with a needle on it considering perhaps her mother was diabetic too, not actually sure what that meant but it sounded poorly to her young mind and would explain why she’d seen a syringe. There was an elastic thing she would wrap around her arm. April wasn’t sure what that was for, but she included it in the picture.

The nurse came round to each table to look at their efforts and award good work stickers. She said she would take some of the pictures back to her office and put them on the wall. She hadn’t taken April’s picture though. She’d picked it up, scowled and took it straight to the teacher.

April could remember vividly having to go to the headmaster’s office and was asked questions. She knew then that she’d done something very wrong, she just wasn’t sure what. But even at that young age, she had an innate understanding to keep quiet.

She continued to make mistakes due to her innocence, but by the time she reached secondary school, she didn’t make anymore.

Maturity had afforded her wisdom beyond her years.