Page 71 of Seven Letters

‘No. We’re not allowed chocolate in school. We’re not allowed any sweet things. I don’t want my teeth to go brown and fall out. I want a melty cheese pitta sandwich. I’m going to be hungry all day now. I hate you. You’re the worst daddyever.’ Izzy collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

Adam put the knife and the crackers down and sat on the floor beside his little girl. He pulled her up onto his lap. ‘I’m sorry about the sandwich. I know I’m a rubbish sandwich-maker. Mummy was the best at that. I’ll try to do better tomorrow. You can help me. We’ll do it really slowly and get it perfect. Just for today could we buy you a roll in the garage?’

‘OK. Just for today.’

‘That’s my girl. I’m sorry, sweetie.’

‘I miss her, Daddy.’

‘I know you do, Izzy. I miss her too.’ Adam buried his face in Izzy’s hair and they both cried for the lost centre of their universe.

Adam was helping Izzy into her school coat when Rob came down the stairs, pushing his freshly showered hair out of his eyes. ‘Morning.’

‘Can you make pitta sandwiches?’ Izzy asked.

‘I sure can.’

‘Good. You can teach Daddy while I’m in school,’ Izzy said.

‘I’d be happy to,’ Rob said.

‘I’m just going to drop Izzy to school. I’ll be back in twenty minutes and we can catch up then.’

‘Hey, let me do it. You look like you could use a coffee. I’d like to.’

‘Yeah, I want Uncle Rob to bring me to school.’

‘Great,’ Adam said. ‘Thank you.’

Adam watched Rob hold Izzy’s hand as they headed out to the car. He wanted to weep with gratitude that his brother was there, on his side, on his team, helping to hold him up when all around him was crumbling.

28

Mia greeted the children as they arrived. After so many days at the hospital, she had decided that doing something ‘normal’ might be good for her. It was getting harder and harder to sit in that little waiting room in the ICU, slowly losing her mind. Instead, she had come into school and would pop in to see Sarah in the evening. This state of limbo could go on for months if the medical team could keep the baby alive, and it certainly wouldn’t be good to live in that limbo the whole time. She had to be strong and try to live some sort of life as well.

Some parents dropped the children and hurried off, avoiding having to talk to Mia. Others were childminders who spoke little English, but a handful of parents said they’d heard her sister was unwell and hoped she’d recover soon. Mia smiled sadly, nodded and thanked them. She didn’t want to get into a conversation with any parent about it. She had no answers and the reality of the situation was too complex to explain, and too painful to talk about.

Fiona Kelly, the headmistress, had told all of the other staff members and any parents who enquired that Isobel Brown’s mother and Mia Wilson’s sister was in a coma and was non-responsive. It was the line Mia had fed her and it kind of summed it up. If anyone had guessed otherwise, they didn’t say so to her.

The last child ran in and Mia closed the door.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ she said.

‘Good morning, Miss Mia,’ the twenty-three children answered.

‘What have you been up to while I’ve been away?’

Milly’s hand shot up. ‘Miss Hannah kept us up with our Communion work and we did our spellings and our maths.’

Sam’s hand went up. ‘Em … your sister is in a coma. I’m sorry, Miss Mia.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Sam, thanks.’

‘What’s a coma?’ Kerry asked.

‘It’s when a person is lying down and sleeping but also kind of dead,’ Sam explained.

‘Don’t say dead! My mum said not to say dead,’ Conor stage-whispered.

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