Blood Sisters(30)

Kitty


Christmas Day started with Margaret having another asthma attack. Kitty tried to pull the alarm cord but her good arm wasn’t as good as usual (bugger it) and it took a while for one of the carers to see what was going on.

Then there was a bit of a distraction when Dawn’s mother made her annual visit – a day after she usually did for some reason. ‘Don’t you recognize me, love?’ she kept wailing. Everyone knew Dawn was just trying to piss her off. Like Duncan said, ‘Who can blame her? We’re not fucking battery hens that people gawp at when they feel like it.’

Kitty didn’t want to eat lunch because she kept thinking about the empty space at the table. Johnny’s. Unlike most of them, he’d gone home to spend Christmas with his family.

After lunch, they all dozed off in their chairs (mouths open, snore, snore) or went to their rooms for a ‘little lie-down’. Kitty was plonked in front of a film where a woman in black and white spent the whole time screaming at a man and then married him at the end.

‘So sorry I’m late but the traffic was terrible.’

Friday Mum! There she was, walking through the door, nattering away to Bossy Supervisor as though they were best friends.

‘Don’t worry. Kitty won’t know any better.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Kitty. ‘I am here, you know.’

‘What’s that you’re saying, dear?’

Friday Mum always asked her daft questions. They both knew she couldn’t understand this babble that insisted on streaming out of her mouth. But somehow they each kept trying.

‘I didn’t want you to bloody come. I wanted to go home with Johnny.’

‘She looks a bit upset,’ whispered Friday Mum.

‘I’m afraid we’ve had one or two issues.’

Bossy Supervisor was taking Friday Mum to one side. But Kitty could hear the odd word. ‘Still has an attachment to the young man … nothing to worry about … just thought you ought to know …’

Friday Mum was nodding.

‘Tell me what you were talking about,’ demanded Kitty when Friday Mum returned to her side. There was another film on now. The scene showed a father arguing with his little girl. It made Kitty feel uneasy.

‘You’re very chatty today!’ Friday Mum had her jolly voice on. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Crap.’ This was a new word which she’d picked up from one of the carers. Nice sound. Crisp and even. Crap. Crap. Crap. Pity no one could understand it. Anger began to well up inside. She started to hum.

‘You seem happy enough, dear.’ She moved forward to hug her but Kitty turned her face away, so Friday Mum stroked her hand instead, which was even more irritating. ‘You always loved Christmas as a child,’ she continued brightly. ‘Remember that year when you woke up to find a Wendy house in the garden? Your dad and I had a terrible job putting it up the night before so you didn’t see it. But it was worth it to see the magical look on your face.’

Friday Mum’s eyes had tears in them now.

‘What happened to me?’ Kitty demanded. ‘How did I end up here? I’ve heard you talking about an accident but what kind? Was it the sea? Did I fall off a horse like Maurice fell off his bike? Tell me what happened!’

‘I wish I knew what you were saying. I really do.’

Kitty started banging the chair with her hand. ‘Tell me, tell me, tell me.’

Friday Mum stood up. She smoothed down a black skirt that was too tight for her round the waist. Normally, she wore trousers. ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve just arrived. But I can’t do this. It’s just too upsetting.’

And then she was gone. Just like that. Good. Someone had changed channels and it was now the Christmas special of EastEnders.

But then came another surprise.

‘You have another visitor!’ exclaimed Bossy Supervisor.

Johnny! He’d come back for her.

Shiny shoes. Grey trousers. Navy blazer.

No. NO!

‘Now, now, Kitty,’ said Bossy Supervisor, looming up. ‘Let’s not go through all that silly headbanging again.’

She held out a hand to the flabby-faced man in the navy blazer and silver buttons, holding a big shiny red present. ‘Welcome.’

Then she turned back to Kitty. ‘Don’t you want to see your father?’

This man was her father? No way! Fathers were nice men on television adverts who poured out breakfast cereal that made children big and strong. But only if they ate the exact brand on the television. Nothing else would do. Fathers took their daughters’ arms when they got married and cried because they were so happy.

Flabby Face didn’t look as though he would do any of those things. In fact, she was pretty certain that he’d once done something very wrong. She just couldn’t remember what. But it made her see red.

‘GO AWAY. AND TAKE YOUR BLOODY PRESENT WITH YOU!’ Kitty tried to push the gift away.

‘I’m not sure what you’re saying, love, but …’

BANG!

Fucking hell, that hurt.

‘Quick. Can someone come here?’

Kitty groaned. She had fallen out of the wheelchair. Her arm really hurt.

‘Call for help,’ yelled Bossy Supervisor. ‘We’ve got an emergency here. Someone help me lift her.’