Writing in the Sand Read Online Free PDF Page A

and clean clothes. She kept the house looking nice even though we never had anything new. She came to parent-teacher evenings and carol services. She did all those things.
    And then – with Mum worse, despite what she lets the Social think – Lisa falls for that pig-headed Darren and announces she’s leaving. No apologies for not pulling her weight. Just the opposite: she said she was doing us a favour – one less mouth to feed and more space. Perhaps she meant it.
    The day she left, a while ago now, Mum was too shocked and weak even to walk to the door and see her off.
    I’d caught up with her at the end of the terrace. “Lisa? When will you come back and see us?” She wanted to shake me off, but I stood my ground. “Mum will want to know.”
    She looked past me, like I was holding her up. “Soon.”
    â€œHow soon?”
    â€œLook, I don’t know, okay?”
    â€œ Lisa , can’t you think of Mum for two seconds?”
    â€œOne – two – three – four .” She paused. “How’s that?”
    â€œWhy are you being like this?”
    â€œLike what?”
    I tried to keep calm. “Acting like you don’t care.”
    She gave me a stare. “Give me a break, Amy.” She paused. “I’m just not cut out for all this heavy stuff.”
    â€œI’m not talking heavy stuff, I’m talking our mum. ”
    â€œWhat if you are?” She stuck out her chin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. If you did, you’d realize.”
    I wondered what she was talking about, what it was I’d realize.
    She looked at the ground. “Whatever you might think, I do care.”
    â€œ Saying you care isn’t enough. You have to show it. You know, do things for her. Stick around.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Amy. Get a life.”
    I stayed calm. “I’d get more of a life,” I said, “if you helped more.” I looked at her silly bleached hair. “Even someone with half a brain cell can wash up and make their own bed.”
    â€œI’ve had enough of it,” she said. “If you must know, I can’t stand her being ill all the time.” She nearly smiled when she said, “I thought you’d be glad to have the room to yourself.”
    â€œIt won’t make up for me having to do everything on my own.”
    She took a step towards me. “Look, I’ll come back. Now and again.”
    I said, “What’s your new address?”
    She huffed. “Got a pen?”
    â€œNo.”
    Eventually, scrabbling about in the bottom of her pink fluffy handbag, she dug out a pencil and wrote on the back of one of our old shopping lists. “There you go.”
    I read her childish writing: 24a Ladder Lane .
    She said, “You can get a bus. The 213.” Then she added quickly, “This doesn’t mean you can keep coming round. I’ve got my own life to lead.”
    She spun around and began to walk away. I raised my voice: “Have you ever thought about my life?”
    â€œYou’re the one does the thinking, Amy.”
    It was obvious I was wasting my time. Folding the piece of paper, I watched her totter away on her scuffed heels.
    This morning, sitting beside Mum on her bed, helping her get dressed, I tell her I’m getting the bus to Lisa’s. It’ll be my first visit to her new place and Mum doesn’t quite hide her hope that this might be a new beginning for Lisa and me. She leaves it a few moments before she asks if there’s a particular reason why I’m going today.
    â€œBits and bobs. Let her know the Social’s been. That we’re okay for a bit.” I pause. “Anyway, it seems ages since we were in touch.”
    She says, “Oh, right…” and leaves the sort of pause that signals there’s more to come. “Amy, love, our Lisa’s not a bad girl.”
    â€œCourse