The Parent Problem (17 page)

It is Saturday. Another day on my own in my room. Just me and my windowsill. Mum and Harris are out in the front, gardening, and I am reading, as usual. I have just started an amazing fantasy called
The Owl Service
by Alan Garner. It is about a girl called Alison whose dad dies and her mum remarries a man with a son called Roger so Alison ends up with a stepdad and a stepbrother. It is not a happy arrangement. They go on holiday to try and ‘bond’ as a new family. I hope this never happens to us. I think about Mum saying she wanted to ‘meet people’ at her classes. At least she seems to have stopped talking about that. For now.

I am distracted by the sound of a van pulling up outside. I look up. It’s not Rob’s van. It’s a camper van, decorated with multicoloured swirly patterns and flowers. This sparks my interest: no one around here has anything as cool as this. I sit up and press my face against the window.

I draw back almost immediately when I see Rob get out of the passenger side – and Finn follows, climbing out of the back. In spite of not wanting to have anything to do with next door, I can’t help being intrigued. I pull my curtain forward and use it as a screen to peep out from. Who has driven them home? As if reading my thoughts, a super-pretty, tiny young woman comes round to the pavement side. She is smiling warmly and talking to both Rob and Finn, gesturing at the house. She has the longest, darkest, shiniest, straightest hair I have ever seen in real life: like something from a shampoo advert. I catch enough of her face to realize she looks a lot like Finn. I am just puzzling this out, thinking that he never said he had an older sister, when the young woman lifts a hand to shield her eyes and looks up. I immediately throw the curtain across my window, and in the process I lose my balance and fall off the windowsill.

At least no one is here to film me this time.

I am picking myself up and rubbing my leg where I hit it on the corner of my desk as I fell, when I hear the ominous sounds of the front door slamming and the thunder of brotherly footsteps on the stairs.

‘Skye-Skye-Skye!’ Harris shouts, erupting into my room like a very small and annoying volcano. ‘You gotta come down. Finn’s mum’s here!’

Finn’s
what
?

I decide I am not going to give Harris the benefit of seeing that the news interests me though.

‘So?’ I say, with a yawn.

‘
Soooooooo
,’ says Harris, his eyes gleaming. ‘We’ve just met her outside. She has the COOLEST van! And Rob has invited us round to their house to meet her. Mum says you have to come. Our mum, I mean.’ He giggles. ‘I hope I get to go in the van.’

‘Yes. That will be fun for you,’ I say.

Harris looks puzzled. ‘I told you: Mum says you have to come.’

Mum chooses that precise moment to appear in my doorway. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘We’ve all been invited. Hurry up!’

‘OK, OK!’ I say, flinging my book down. I get up off the floor. ‘I was coming anyway,’ I mutter.

Why do I have to come? And why is she in such a rush to go round?

‘Wait!’ Mum exclaims. She stops to check her reflection in my mirror and begins fussing with her hair and sighing. ‘Oh, I look a sight. Just give me five minutes to fix my make-up.’ She runs out of the room, her shabby gardening cardigan whipping up a draught as she goes.

I give a deep sigh. ‘Either you’re in a hurry or not.’

Harris jumps from foot to foot. ‘I can’t wait to see Finn play his drum kit at last!’ he says.

‘We hardly need to
see
him play,’ I mutter. ‘It’s so loud he’s practically in our house when he practises anyway.’

‘Come on, then,’ Mum says, running back into my room. She claps her hands. ‘Chop-chop!’

‘All right, all right,’ I say. ‘Calm down.’

‘It’s EXCITING!’ says Harris, as we follow Mum down the stairs. ‘Finn’s mum looks so COOL!’

Mum gives a funny whimper and says, ‘Yes, doesn’t she?’

I wonder if she is worried that she isn’t such great-looking Mum Material in comparison. That makes me feel bad. I know what it’s like when you feel as though you are second best.

‘It’s OK, Mum,’ I say, giving her arm a quick squeeze. ‘You’re all right too, you know.’

Mum shoots me a look of bewilderment. ‘Oh, Skye. That’s . . . lovely,’ she says and gives me a strained smile. ‘Now, best behaviour everyone,’ she says. She flicks her hair back and straightens her shoulders, then rings the Parkers’ doorbell.

The woman from the camper van answers. She flashes the same warm smile I saw from my bedroom window and throws her arms wide as though she is about to gather all of us into a bear hug. Hundreds of skinny silver bracelets slide down over her wrist to her elbow, jingling and tinkling as they fall.

‘Hi! I’m Yuki. You must be Harris and Skye – and Hellie! Rob’s told me
lots
about you.’ She raises an eyebrow and then laughs.

I notice Mum flinch. ‘Really?’ she says. Her forehead creases.

Yuki’s smile broadens. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she says.

What the flip is that supposed to mean?

Mum goes red. Yuki’s smile fades and her mouth shrinks to form a silent ‘O’ as if she realizes Mum is upset about something. The smile is soon back though.

‘It’s all right,’ she says. ‘I can sense you are feeling uncomfortable. It is understandable in the circumstances, but not at all necessary.’

‘Circumstances’? What is she on about? I look from Yuki to Mum and back to Yuki again. It is like Yuki is speaking in code.

Rob appears behind Yuki and puts his hands on her shoulders, moving her to one side as though she is a bit of furniture that has been put in the wrong place.

‘Hi, Hellie,’ he says. ‘Hi, Harris – Skye. Come on in. We can’t chat with everyone standing on the doorstep like this!’ He laughs, but it’s the kind of fake-sounding laugh adults do when they are nervous or trying to cover up that they are annoyed. ‘It’s still a tip in here, I’m afraid,’ he adds.

Mum mutters something and steps into the house and Harris and I troop in after her.

‘Is your house similar to this?’ Yuki asks. ‘It must feel very familiar.’ She raises one eyebrow at Mum.

‘Oh, er, not really,’ says Mum, avoiding Yuki’s gaze. ‘I mean. It’s not that familiar. I mean, it’s kind of similar. But I don’t really know. I mean, I haven’t really—’

I cut in to stop her wittering. ‘It
is
pretty much the same as our house,’ I say. I shoot Mum a look to try and get her to calm down. She is being really weird. She keeps patting her hair and pulling at her clothes.

‘Except your house is WAY cooler,’ Harris says to Rob. ‘Because it’s back to front!’

Rob smiles. ‘You mean it’s a mirror image,’ he says.

‘Yes!’ says Mum with a tinkly laugh. ‘Isn’t that funny?’

What? It’s not
that
funny.

Rob invites us to go through to the kitchen. I know the layout of this house every bit as well as my own, and not just because it’s like Rob says: a mirror image of my house. I know it from when I used to come round and visit Mrs Robertson. It looks weird without her furniture and pictures and little knick-knacks that she used to have, covering every surface. I used to love picking up the tiny boxes and figurines she had and asking her questions about them. She never told me not to touch. She loved chatting about her things. I really miss her. I asked Mum the other day if I could visit, but apparently she is not very well at the moment.

‘Like I said,’ Rob says, ushering us into the kitchen. ‘I’m afraid it is still a bit of a tip. I don’t want to unpack everything until I’m done with some of the basic DIY and painting.’

The place
is
a tip. It’s crammed with unpacked boxes and the rooms look shabby and sad. There are marks on the wall where Mrs Robertson had mirrors and pictures. I am aware of how old-fashioned the decor looks. Sadness wells up in me as I think of Rob and Finn dismissing the old decor – maybe even laughing at it – and deciding what to do instead.

Is it really that easy to replace someone? Move them out, take away their things, strip off the old wallpaper, rip out the carpets: it’s as if they never existed.

It makes me think of Dad. Did Mum throw out his stuff when he died? She has never once shown me anything that belonged to him: there are a few old photos to prove he existed, otherwise it’s as though he never really lived. We don’t have any clothes or belongings of his. Not that I know of, anyway. Maybe Mum has some squirrelled away in the loft.

My head is spinning with these thoughts so that I don’t hear the next few things Mum, Yuki and Rob say to each other as we take our places around the kitchen table.

Finn has disappeared, I realize – to his room probably (I don’t blame him) – and Harris is now running after him shouting, ‘Finn! Finn? Wait for me!’

‘Skye, sweetie?’ Mum says in a sugary tone. ‘Yuki is talking to you, darling.’

I come back from my memories as though waking up from a long sleep. What’s with the ‘sweetie-darling’ stuff all of a sudden?

‘What?’ I say.

‘Skye!’ Mum says. ‘Don’t be rude.’

‘Don’t stress: I don’t offend easily,’ says Yuki. ‘I can see Skye is lost in thought. Perhaps this house has a special place in your heart, Skye?’ She looks deep into my eyes and lays a hand on my arm.

I jump. That’s a bit creepy. How does she know how I feel about this house?

‘Er . . .’ I don’t know what to say.

‘Skye was friendly with the lady who lived here before,’ says Mum. ‘Mrs Robertson.’

Rob nods. ‘I heard she had to go into a home. Sad,’ he says. ‘I guess you miss her, Skye?’

I bite my lip. ‘Yeah,’ I say softly.

‘We might visit once she’s up to it,’ Mum says quietly. She puts a hand on my shoulder.

‘Must be hard, getting used to new neighbours,’ Rob says. ‘Change can be hard at your age, eh?’

I look up at him and see he is smiling, but he looks a bit sad too. I feel a rush of warmth towards him. I hadn’t thought he would understand.

‘But Rob, change is a good thing,’ says Yuki. ‘Life is all about change. The seasons come and go, we get older, things move on.’

‘Yes!’ says Mum. ‘That’s right. We can’t all stay the same forever.’ She does that fake laugh again.

‘Embrace change, Skye,’ Yuki says, fixing me with her deep brown eyes. ‘It’s only when we resist it that it has the power to hurt us.’

‘Mu-um . . .’ Finn has reappeared, with Harris bobbing up and down beside him. ‘You’re not going on about all your spiritual yoga-guru stuff, are you? It’s embarrassing.’

‘Finn, angel,’ says Yuki, stretching out an arm towards him. ‘You know I don’t like you calling me “Mum”. That’s not my name.’

‘Whatever.’ Finn looks as uncomfortable and grumpy as he did when I saw him from my window. I suddenly feel I understand: he doesn’t like change either. His mum and dad aren’t together any more and that must be really hard for him. Maybe we have more in common that I have wanted to admit.

Rob is muttering to Finn, clearly telling him to stop being so moody.

Mum glances at them and then gives that fake laugh again. ‘Well. It is lovely to meet you, Yuki. I hear you’re an artist.’

How does she know this? I wonder.

‘What kind of art do you do?’ Mum asks, pulling her chair closer.

Yuki waves her hands in a vague gesture and says, ‘I try to reinterpret nature’s forms through a mix of media. My work is all about perception rather than content.’

I’m not going to lie, it is pretty difficult to understand a word of what she is talking about.

Rob tuts and says, ‘Yuki’s a “conceptual artist” – you know, installations and whatnot – a chair in the middle of the room symbolizing death, that kind of thing.’

‘Sounds
fascinating
,’ says Mum. ‘Must be amaaaazing having an artist in the family. I have always wanted to do something creative.’

‘But you
are
an artist, Mum!’ Harris pipes up. ‘You did all those drawings of those naked people. They were really good. Shall I go home and get some and show them to Yuki?’

‘No, Harris,’ I hiss.

‘How wonderful that you have a creative side. It must be such a release from your job and family commitments. I would love to see your drawings,’ says Yuki.

Rob coughs loudly.

Mum looks hastily from Yuki to Rob and then ploughs on. ‘And Rob tells me you have travelled all over the world,’ she gushes. ‘That sounds amaaaaaazing too. So, er, what brings you back here?’

Yuki smiles. ‘The universe,’ she says, as though it is the most obvious reason in the world.

‘Oh,’ says Mum.

Rob gives a tight smile and says, ‘Yuki’s been away for ages, haven’t you? We haven’t seen her for – oh, months and months.’

Yuki shrugs. ‘Time is a concept I don’t bother with,’ she says. ‘We all worry far too much about it.’

‘That’s
exactly
what I think,’ Mum exclaims. ‘I’m always saying that, aren’t I, Skye?’

I am lost for words. Why is Mum being like this? She is being a total suck-up! It’s like she’s desperate for Yuki to like her, as though she’s the loser at school with no mates who will do anything to get in with the popular crowd. She reminds me of Aubrey with the VTs. I’ve had enough of this. I have to get her out of here before she says anything seriously embarrassing.

I push my chair back and say, ‘Talking of
time
, Mum, don’t you think it’s time we went home?’

‘No!’ Harris whines. ‘I haven’t played Finn’s drums yet. Can I now, Finn? Can I?’

Finn looks relieved to have a reason to leave the room. ‘Sure. Come on,’ he says and chases Harris, shrieking, out of the kitchen. Seconds later the familiar crashing sound of drums and cymbals can be heard.

Yuki raises an eyebrow. ‘I hope that is your son playing, not mine,’ she says to Mum.

Rob takes a deep breath as though he is about to say something, but Yuki jumps up before he can begin. ‘Kettle’s boiled!’ she says. ‘You may as well have a cup of tea while the boys are occupied?’ she says.

Rob gives Mum a pleading look as though begging Mum to stay. Or go? I am not sure I can tell.

‘Oh, yes please,’ says Mum. She returns Rob’s look with an expression that seems to say, ‘You
bet
I am staying.’