Lifesaving for Beginners Read Free Page A

leave?’
    Thomas hands me the remote. ‘Here.’ His tone is brusque but then he bends down from his great height and kisses me. Right on the mouth. As if I’m not lying defenceless in a hospital bed, with no access to a toothbrush or toothpaste or mouthwash or anything. He just kisses me like he always does. No lead-up. No warning. Just his mouth on top of mine. It always gets me. How soft his mouth is. He’s so big and farmer-ish, you’d be expecting dry, chapped lips from being out in all sorts of weather. He kisses me for longer than would be considered appropriate in a hospital visit sort of scenario. I don’t tell him to stop.
    ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Take you home.’
    I think the accident has had some effect on me after all because, all of a sudden, there’s a chance I might cry. I’d say it’s the medication they have me on. Because of the shattered ribs. Well, OK then, a hairline fracture on one rib.
    I nod and close my eyes as if I’m going to have a nap.
    When he leaves, I open my eyes and – this is the strange part – I do cry. Not loud enough for anyone to hear. But still. There are tears. I’m crying all right. They gave me something for the pain and they said it was strong. I’d say it’s that. I blow my nose and lie down and close my eyes. I want to go to sleep as quickly as I can so it’ll be tomorrow as soon as possible then I can go home and everything can get back to normal.

2 June 2011; Brighton
    I’m sitting on my bed.
    The house is dead quiet even though Adrian is here. I know he’s here because, a while ago, he knocked on the door and poked his head in and said, ‘All right, Milo? You hungry, mate?’
    He never knocks on the door.
    Faith and Dad and Ant are gone to Ireland. I think they’re staying in Auntie May’s house. That’s where Mam is supposed to be. I don’t know where she is now. I hope it’s not a morgue. I saw a morgue on the telly once. They put people in drawers and it’s really cold. Mam hates the cold. Her hands turn blue when she’s cold.
    Dad said I couldn’t go to Ireland with them. His jumper was inside out and his breath smelled like cigarettes, which is weird because he doesn’t even smoke anymore. Not since he went to Scotland to live with Celia.
    Faith said, ‘Don’t worry,’ when she left. ‘We’ll be back tomorrow.’ Her eyes were all red and puffy and her skin was even whiter than usual so I didn’t want to ask, ‘What time tomorrow?’ I look at my watch again but it’s still only twenty past nine in the morning. I think Adrian is in the kitchen but I don’t want to go to the kitchen because that’s where Mam is supposed to be. When she’s not at the café, she’s in the kitchen, baking something. Or just sitting down, listening to the radio. Adrian is not supposed to be in the kitchen. He’s supposed to be at the university in London with Ant. And I’m supposed to be in Miss Williams’s class, probably writing some story, like My Plans for the Summer Holidays. Something boring like that.
    Everything is sort of back to front. Like breakfast. Me and Adrian ate slices of pizza, left over from last night. We drank Coke as well. Even if it was my birthday, Mam wouldn’t let me drink Coke for breakfast and my birthday is the same day as Christmas Day, which is sort of like two celebrations in one, I suppose.
    People keep knocking on the front door. Neighbours, mostly. Mrs Barber from across the road left a gigantic bowl with a lid on the top. She said it was beef casserole. There’s celery in it. I hate celery. I put it in the fridge. Mam would call it a terrible waste if I threw it in the bin.
    The clothes I wore yesterday are on the floor. I’m supposed to put my socks and boxers into the linen basket every night. ‘There’re no skivvies in this house.’ That’s what Mam says.
    I’m going to have to remember to brush my teeth from now on. Every day. Otherwise they’ll rot in my head. Mrs Barber’s teeth look lovely