Tangled Secrets, Page 3

  Some people like to walk around the cemetery out of curiosity, to read the words that have been etched into the ancient stone for hundreds of years, but as the woman got closer I realized that she must be searching for a particular grave. She was clutching a small bunch of flowers in one hand and a wad of tissues in the other.

  I decided to try and draw her in my sketchbook. I love, love, love drawing. I’d happily do it all day long if I had the choice. Drawing, sketching, doodling – anything really as long as it involves a piece of paper and a pencil. I reached into my bag for my book – I always have it with me just in case I see something interesting or pretty. When I looked up again I saw the woman had stopped right by Nan’s grave.

  She stood very still for a few moments and then kneeled down to arrange the flowers. Nan had loads of friends, the church was crammed full on the day of her funeral, but I was pretty sure I’d never seen this particular woman before. I watched as she traced her finger over the words engraved on the headstone: In loving memory of Rosemary Wilkins – taken from us too soon. Forever missed by all who knew her.

  It felt strange sitting there, watching her. I wondered if I should go over and introduce myself, ask her how she knew Nan, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get the words out. Maybe she knew my granddad too. He’s buried in the grave right next to Nan’s. He died a long time ago, years before I was born.

  I was still trying to pluck up the courage to go over and talk to her when she stood up again and pulled something out of her pocket. I thought it was more tissues at first, but then I saw it was a crumpled piece of paper. She kneeled back down, smoothed it out and placed it on the grave, using a small stone to stop it from blowing away.

  It was like something straight out of a movie. I was dying to know what it said. I held my breath as she stood there for another minute, dabbing at her eyes with the tissues, and then turned to go. She didn’t look back once as she picked her way through the graves and out of the gate, disappearing down Morley Avenue.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jump. It was a text from Mum asking where I was. It was obviously later than I realized, either that or she’d come home early. I texted back that I’d be five minutes and stuffed my sketchbook into my bag. Mrs Palmer must’ve called her and told her about my grades and the nurture group.

  I trailed across the path and over to Nan’s grave before I left. I wasn’t in any hurry to get back, not if Mum was going to start having a go. Close up I could see the flowers were pink tulips, Nan’s favourites. The woman had propped them up against the back of the headstone, the piece of paper placed just in front. The writing was small, the letters squashed together, and I had to kneel down to make it out.

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw what it said.

  I’m so sorry…forgive me x

  I made my way out of the cemetery, my head in a spin. Who was she? And why was she saying sorry? I racked my brain trying to remember if I’d ever seen her before. She must’ve known Nan pretty well to know her favourite flowers were pink tulips. Perhaps they’d had a row before she died and never made up – although it was hard to imagine Nan falling out with anyone for very long. She always said life was too short to bear a grudge.

  Mum was on the phone in the kitchen when I got in. I closed the front door as quietly as I could and crept upstairs before she could see me. As soon as I was in my room I pulled my ribbon out from under my pillow and wrapped it round my hand, holding it up to my face to breathe in the satiny smell.

  I’ve had my purple ribbon under my pillow for as long as I can remember – and not just my one special piece, there are old, tatty scraps squirrelled away all over the house for emergencies. I can’t actually get to sleep without it. According to Nan it all started on my third birthday, just after Charlie was born. Mum and Dad were up at the hospital and Nan had moved in to look after me.

  She said she tried to make the day as special as she could. She baked my favourite cake and decorated the house with loads of balloons, but I was so upset I didn’t stop crying for Mum all afternoon. I didn’t even cheer up when Nan gave me my present, a talking doll wrapped in purple paper with a purple satin ribbon.

  Apparently I’d seen that doll in a shop and been desperate to have it. It was called My First Baby and if you pressed its tummy it said “I’m hungry”, or “My nappy needs changing”, or “I love you”, in a proper baby voice. Nan thought I’d be thrilled, she said she couldn’t wait to see my face, but as soon as the doll was out of the box I chucked it on the floor and cuddled up to her on the couch, the long, satin ribbon wrapped tight around my hand.

  And then the following year, on my fourth birthday, when Charlie was home and everything was more settled, I still wanted all my presents wrapped in purple ribbon, and that’s the way it’s been ever since. I don’t remember any of this of course; I only know there’s something about having that first piece of ribbon tucked under my pillow, rubbing it against my face, breathing in the satiny smell, that makes me feel safe.

  Mum didn’t mention Mrs Palmer calling until just before bedtime when we were on our own. She sat on the edge of my bed, folding and refolding the edge of my sheet as if she was trying to work out what to say. In the end we both started speaking at the same time.

  “I had a chat with Mrs Palmer this afternoon,” she said, just as I said, “There was this woman in the cemetery…”

  “I’m sorry, Mum,” I cut in quickly before she got cross. “I was going to tell you about my mid-term assessments, I swear…”

  “It’s not really your grades I’m worried about, Mads,” she said tightly, “although I was surprised. Mrs Palmer says you’ve been finding it difficult to concentrate – that you’re teary and withdrawn. She says she used to have a job keeping you quiet, but that lately, apart from when you’re with Gemma, you hardly say anything at all. She’s concerned about you, Maddie, and so am I to be honest…” She paused for a moment, folding and refolding. “Look, I know you’re missing Nan, that it’s been a difficult time for you, but I didn’t realize things had got as bad as this.”

  “As bad as what?” I said, although I knew exactly what she meant.

  “I mean we’re all missing Nan, Mads. It was a terrible shock for the whole family. But if only you’d talk to me. If only you’d tell me what’s upsetting you so much instead of bottling it all up inside.”

  I could hear the impatience in her voice. I pulled my covers up and turned to face the wall, twisting my ribbon round my hand. I didn’t know how to talk to Mum about Nan, or how it was supposed to help. I was used to talking to Nan about Mum, not the other way round.

  “There was this woman in the cemetery,” I tried again, my voice muffled through the sheets. “She was wearing a scarf around her head and…”

  “Maddie, stop. We’re not talking about that now. And I’m not sure you should even be hanging around the cemetery so much. It doesn’t seem to be helping as far as I can see…”

  “Helping what?” I said, my eyes filling with tears.

  Mum took a breath and pulled the sheets back. “Look, I’m not cross with you, Maddie, I’m just worried. We’re all worried. You’ve been spending far too much time on your own; I can’t even remember the last time Gemma came over. I’d actually been thinking of taking you to see someone myself, but Mrs Palmer mentioned this nurture group she’s setting up…”

  “No, Mum, please, not the nurture group!” My heart started to race again. “I can’t talk to someone I’ve never met before, and especially not with other people there as well. I’ll try to do better at school, Mum, I promise. Please, I’m begging you. I’ll concentrate more and—”

  “Maddie, listen to me.” She reached for my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “You’re going through a really tough time and I honestly don’t think this is something you can sort out by yourself. If I could fix it for you, I would, but it’s not going to be that easy. I can’t bear seeing you like this, so quiet and withdrawn at school…struggling to sleep�
��missing Nan…”

  “I know but—”

  “Just give it a chance,” she interrupted. “Don’t judge it before you’ve tried. Sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger, someone you’ve never met before.”

  I lay awake for ages after she left the room, thinking about the woman in the cemetery and the note she left. I remember the first week back at school in January after Nan died, Mrs Morris – our art teacher – announced a drawing competition for Year Eight. I was so excited to rush home and tell Nan that just for a moment I forgot she wouldn’t be there, that I wouldn’t be able to tell her.

  I had no idea who the woman was, or how she was connected to Nan, but she would definitely understand how I was feeling right now – how difficult it was when the only person you really wanted to talk to was already dead.

  Chapter 4

  Vivian was younger than I was expecting. I don’t know why – Vivian just sounds like an old-fashioned name. The first thing I thought when I walked into the Blue Room on Monday morning was that I’d got the wrong time, or the wrong day – she just didn’t match the person I’d imagined. She had frizzy black hair pulled back with a bright red-and-yellow patterned scarf and bright-red lipstick to match.

  “Hello, you must be Maddie,” she said, her eyes crinkling up as she smiled. I wondered how she knew. Maybe Mrs Palmer had given her a photo of me. “I’m Vivian. Come and sit down.” She waved her hand at the big table in front of her. “You’re the first to arrive so take your pick.”

  I sat as far away from her as I could, right at the other end of the table, tucking my skirt under my legs. There was nothing much in the Blue Room – just the table and chairs, a few pieces of old work stuck up on the walls and a glossy times-tables chart. It was mostly used for maths and English booster groups, or individual special-needs sessions.

  “I know there are loads of chairs out,” said Vivian, “but don’t worry, there are only going to be four of us, including me. Has Mrs Palmer talked to you about the nurture group at all?”

  I nodded and then shook my head. Vivian laughed.

  “I’m not sure if that was a yes or a no,” she said. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to ask me any questions you might have – while it’s just the two of us.”

  I shrugged, blushing. Who else was in the group? That was what I really wanted to ask. I stared down at my lap, wishing I could disappear.

  “It’s always a bit awkward coming to something new for the first time,” Vivian said gently. “We could turn it into a bit of a game if you like?”

  I glanced up.

  “I could ask you a question, and then you could ask me a question. We’ll take turns. You can ask me anything you like – my favourite food, my star sign, what I had for breakfast this morning. Anything. I’ll start then, shall I?”

  I shrugged again. She was trying to trick me into talking but it was never going to work; my mouth was too dry for a start, as if I’d swallowed a bucketful of sand.

  “So here’s my first question,” said Vivian. “Do you like cats best, or dogs? They say that everyone is either a cat person or a dog person. I’m ‘dog’ myself. I’ve got a Pekinese called Sadie and she’s very naughty.” She got up and came round the table, holding her phone out to show me a picture. “She’s an affectionate little thing, but stubborn as an ox.”

  Sadie was small with straggly hair and a funny squashed-up face. She was really cute and I couldn’t help smiling.

  “So how about you, Maddie? Do you like dogs?”

  I nodded, still smiling.

  “And how about cats?”

  I nodded again.

  “Oh no,” said Vivian, throwing her hands up in the air. “That’s against the rules. You can’t say dogs and cats. You’ve got to pick one. So is it dogs or cats?”

  I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. I’ve never had a dog or a cat, or any other pet for that matter. I really wanted to get a dog after Nan died. I kept thinking that if we had a puppy it might stop everyone from feeling so sad, but Mum said the dog would be stuck at home alone all day and it wouldn’t be fair.

  “I wanted to get a dog once,” I whispered without looking up. I wasn’t even sure the words had actually come out of my mouth but Vivian said, “That’s great! So we’re both dog people. I always know where I am with a dog person. Right, your turn, Maddie. What would you like to ask me?”

  I sat there trying to think of something, but the only question I wanted to ask right at that moment was, why did my nan have to die? Vivian would think I was mad if I asked a question like that. I was supposed to be asking something simple, like her favourite colour or her star sign. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. It was suddenly very loud.

  “You could always write your question down, Maddie. Sometimes it’s easier to write things down than say them out loud. How about I tell you a bit about the group now, and what’s going to happen here, and then before you leave, if you’ve still got a question that you’d like to ask me, you can write it down and leave it with me. Would that be okay?”

  I nodded, relieved. At least I wouldn’t have to say anything else. Vivian pushed a big, yellow pad across the table towards me.

  “I adore the colour yellow,” she said. “It always makes me think of the summer. I love the summer, and so does Sadie. Neither of us likes the cold very much…” She stopped for a moment, rolling her eyes. “Now look, I’ve told you my favourite colour and my favourite season.”

  I smiled again; I couldn’t help it. Maybe she wasn’t trying to trick me. Maybe she just wanted to help me feel more comfortable. I took the pad and pen and doodled a pattern across the top of the first page – a row of miniature stars shining down from the night sky. It was a relief to have something to do with my hands.

  “So we’re going to meet every Monday and Thursday for the next five weeks,” said Vivian, “and as I mentioned a few moments ago, there will be four of us. I don’t know what’s happened to the other two. Perhaps they’ve been held up somewhere?”

  Who are they? I scribbled underneath the stars. I wrote it really small so she wouldn’t be able to see.

  “Never mind, it’s given us a chance to get to know each other a little. You’re probably wondering what will actually happen while you’re here…” She paused for a second, but I didn’t say anything. “Well, sometimes I’ll guide the sessions in a particular way, and sometimes we’ll just see what comes up. I know that can sound scary, but I hope you’ll come to view this room and these sessions as a safe place, Maddie. There are no expectations or pressure. You can join in as much or as little as you like, and the same goes for the other two.”

  Who are they? I wrote again. It was nearly twenty past nine and they still weren’t here. I’d just started my next doodle – a row of tiny hearts with even smaller hearts squashed inside – when there was a knock at the door. It was a girl called Sally-Ann. She’s not in my form but we have one or two classes together.

  “Erm, I think I’m supposed to be in here but I’m really, really late,” she said from the doorway.

  “That’s okay,” said Vivian. “Come in, come in, you must be Sally-Ann. Sit wherever you like. I’m Vivian and this is Maddie.”

  Sally-Ann came in and plonked herself down right next to Vivian. She was small and skinny with light-brown hair.

  “Hi, Maddie,” she said, her eyes flicking over to me for a second. “You’re in 8P aren’t you? I’m in 8R.” She turned back to Vivian before I could say anything. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, that’s why I’m so late. I’ve had this pain in my side for ages but they don’t know what it is.”

  “How’s the pain now?” asked Vivian.

  “It comes and goes to be honest, but it’s okay at the moment. Do you ever get that?”

  I thought about the knot of anxiety I’d had in my stomach for months and months but I stared down at my pad, pretending to be busy.

  “My mum thinks I’m imagining the pain,” Sally-Ann went
on, not really waiting for an answer. “She says it’s just for attention, but she doesn’t understand what it’s like. I think that’s why Mrs Palmer asked me to join this group, because of the pain in my side. I bet she thinks I’m making it up as well. Anyway, what have I missed?”

  “Well, Maddie and I have established that we both like dogs, haven’t we, Maddie?”

  I could feel my face getting hot. I don’t know why. Maybe it was just that Sally-Ann had said more in the last thirty seconds than I’d said during the entire meeting.

  “How about you, Sally-Ann?” she went on. “Are you a dog or a cat person?”

  “Oh, I really like cats but I’m allergic,” she said, pushing her fringe back off her face. “I only have to sit in the same room as a cat and my eyes start streaming.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Vivian. “Allergies are such a nuisance.”

  They carried on talking about cats and allergies for a bit while I sat there doodling, wondering why Sally-Ann needed to come to the nurture group in the first place. She obviously didn’t find it difficult to talk about her problems. She was chatting away to Vivian as if she’d known her for years.

  I began to relax for the first time. The group would be so much easier with Sally-Ann here; she could do all the talking. It felt as if the pressure was off. Maybe the third person wouldn’t turn up and it would just be the two of us. I wrote a couple more questions on the pad underneath my doodles. Will I ever feel normal again? Will I ever stop worrying? Why am I so scared to talk?

  It was weird how it all started, the talking thing. It was the week I went back to school after all my time off. We were in history and Mr Bassington asked us to list the causes of the Civil War and then suddenly, without any warning at all, he called out my name. “Yes, Maddie,” he said, as if my hand was up, as if I actually wanted to answer, and everyone turned to stare at me, waiting for me to speak. And even though I knew all the causes of the Civil War, I began to feel horribly hot and sweaty and my heart started to race and there was this massive lump in my throat…