Page 92 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘You know love because you try to love your son unconditionally,’ she says. ‘And that’s what love is, at its purest and best. It’s patient and kind, it’s not proud, it doesn’t dishonour others. It’s not self-seeking and it keeps no record of wrongs. It always protects and always trusts. It always hopes and it always perseveres.’
I catch my breath as something like a wave of heat pounds through my body.
‘Very poetic,’ Violet says.
‘It’s from my favourite book.’
I think about all those attributes of love and think about how I feel about Jake and realise that’s what I’ve been missing all along, there in front of me as I strived and persevered and loved him through a life that hurt too much, as I protected him and tried not to fail him, though I often did. And now, no more of this. Time to let go of the things that have caged me in for too long, of the words from my parents, from Marcus, from kids at school that wounded me in deep places. It’s time for me to be free.
‘Listen,’ Amina says, leaning forward slightly and tilting her head to the side.
I can’t hear anything through the heavy, muted silence of this kingdom of snow.
‘I hear something too,’ Jodie says.
And then I hear it. An engine. It shatters the dampened quietness, its throaty roar sounding pained and weary, a little bit like us. I suck a breath in, flinching as a stab of pain flashes through my chest, and drag myself off the seat. ‘It’s a car. We have to stop it.’
But it’s not a car.
‘I thought there were no buses on Saturdays,’ Jodie says, her eyes wide as she gazes at the stuttering vehicle limping over the foggy horizon and cutting slowly through the unrelenting snowstorm towards us.
‘It’s out of service,’ Kat says, peering out of the shelter and shaking her head. ‘It’s all dark.’
‘I don’t care,’ I say. ‘That bus has to stop. That bus is going to stop.’ I grab the picnic blanket and I drag myself out of the shelter and into the middle of the road, the snow soaking through my thin shoes and socks and sending icy shivers through my feet and up through my legs. Nobody follows me. They sit pinned to the seat, steeped in pain or weariness or apathy or all three.
‘He won’t see you, Penny,’ Kat shouts dully. ‘You’ll get run down.’
But I don’t care. I take up the rug and I start waving it madly. I feel like Bobby fromThe Railway Children, standing in the middle of the track waving massive red bloomers in the air, hoping against hope the train will stop before it hurtles into me. Only I’m waving a dirty old candy-striped picnic rug and snow is driving down all around me, shrouding my body and my mind and icing up my bones.
As I wave it over my head, back and forth, my arms strain and pain rips through my body, and it’s almost like time stands still as the bus grows in size and its grumbling engine fills up the silence. Suddenly I think about Jake, and what he will think if I die here now. I think about how his life has been too full of sacrifice, how because of me he has missed out on a normal carefree childhood, how he has been catapulted into the role of carer a thousand times too many. Will he miss me, I wonder, or will he finally be free to live his life without the great big burden that is me?
I catch a glimpse of the others in the edges of my vision, their weary huddled shapes blurring against the shadows of the shelter, and I grit my teeth as I wave the blanket. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The bus has to stop.
Chapter 27
The bus shows no signs of slowing as it draws closer, its engine a spluttering growl, a cloud of black smoke spitting from its exhaust and painting the air in sooty darkness.
I marshal my strength and stand as tall as I can, waving the rug over my head then flapping it up and down, my arms shaking with exhaustion. I can’t do this. I am going to faint. I need to lie down.
I shout as the bus comes nearer and the driver looms into view through the murk. I scream at the top of my lungs and I jump up and down and I don’t know where my body finds the energy.
It screeches to a halt inches from me, its headlights picking out a great flurry of dancing footprints where I have jumped and leaped and poured myself out. The driver throws his window open and leans out. ‘What in the name of all that is holy?’ he shrieks in a broad Irish brogue. ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing, woman? Do you have a death wish?’
I can’t find any words left in me. They are swallowed up by a rising tide coursing through my body and dragging my feet from underneath me. I am wet cardboard, floppy and bendy with nothing to hold me up. I fall to my knees in the snow and lower my dizzied head as my breath comes thick and fast. The edges of the world turn to black around me as I fall harder, and then I amdiving through the snow and plunging deep into the frozen ground.
???
I can hear Jake knocking on my bedroom door. Mummy, Mummy! There are no words in my mouth, my throat is closed up as my breath is whipped away by a surge of pain. Mummy! I will help you Mummy. He is in the room with me, he is pulling my duvet over me and then he is stroking my hair. Are you okay, Mummy? Are you okay? I try to nod, to say yes, Jake, please don’t worry about me, but my words are stifled into a grunt. I’ll help you Mummy, just wait there. Then my world falls into mist until he comes back, gently rocking my shoulder. I’ve made you some dinner, Mummy, to help you feel better. He has a tray with a cup of lukewarm tea because I told him never to use the kettle and a jam sandwich and there is jam all over the tray and his sticky fingers. He puts it on the bed with me and then he climbs in with me and he won’t let me go and he says please get better, Mummy, please.
???
‘Penny. Penny.’ Someone is shaking my shoulder. Is it Jake? I open my eyes and the freezing world presses in on me. Where am I? ‘Penny! Are you okay?’ Kat is gaping at me, eyes wide with worry, and Jodie is with her too, and all I can think about is Jodie in her socks in the snow. ‘Come on. We’ll help you.’ They each tuck an arm into mine and help me up, and even though I am still sagging like damp cardboard now I have something to cling to. ‘It’s okay,’ Kat says, as I begin to hyperventilate and the world tilts on its side. ‘Shh. It’s okay. You did it, Penny. You stopped him. We’re going to be okay.’
I sense a soft whisper of breath on my neck. I find Violet behind me, her arm on my back, steadying herself with the walking frame. She whispers to me, ‘You’re a brave girl.’
‘What is all this?’ the driver shouts out of his window.
