Sarah Lean - 3 Book Collection

Sam huffed and shook his head, but she soon persuaded him he was going in the buggy or not at all. Sam’s buggy was a bit like a baby’s pushchair with three wheels. It was black and faded with orange tatty pockets that Mrs Cooper had filled with bottles of drink, carrier bags with some snacks, Sam’s puffer and the alarm clock. When Sam sat in it, his knees were up high and his elbows stuck out the side. I could see why he didn’t want to go in it.

Mrs Cooper chewed her thumb while she watched us cross the quiet road and bump on to the open common with all the ‘just-in-case’ things and Sam’s boxes of cards on his lap.

Sam stuck his arms out and I pushed left or right, straight on or round in circles, wherever he pointed. He reached for the bracken, the long grass, the tree trunks we passed. Softly he hummed, changing pitch when we went over bumps, downhill or uphill. Sometimes he just laughed and laughed or waved me to go faster.

Suddenly he sat up straight and pointed both his arms down for me to stop. He held up a card – WATER. We were by the stream and little brick bridge where Luke had gone when we first saw the flat.

Sam took off his socks and shoes and waded in. He walked against the flow, bent over so his fingers trailed in the water. He looked like he belonged there.

I met him coming out the other side and he pushed me gently to sit in the pushchair, went round the back and leaned on the handle with his skinny middle. He rested his hands on my shoulders so he could feel me lifting my arms to point left or right. At first I didn’t know where to go. But I followed my nose over the far side of the common where I’d seen Homeless run and soon we were pushing through the trees and bushes in the green gloom and standing in front of some gates.

Swan Lake was spelled out in curled metal writing along the top of the tall rusted gates. Heavy links of chain with a chunky padlock were wound round them to keep them closed.

We left the pushchair in a bush, took all our belongings in the carrier bags and I helped Sam, step by step. We crawled in through a hole, over the crumbled bricks and creeping ivy, under the tangle of branches. We pushed through the bushes, came out in an opening.

There was a small building. Green paint peeled off the door like sunburnt skin so you could see it used to be painted red underneath. Brick steps led up from beside the boarded window to the trees at the top of the bank. They circled high above a black silent lake in the middle.

Sam reached out and felt along the wall. I led him inside the open door. It must have been the ticket office for the old miniature railway Dad told me about. There was a wide counter under the window. A sweeping brush with a broken handle leaned against the wall by a camping stove, some plates, a saucepan and a big chipped dog bowl. Carrier bags and strips of cardboard were folded and piled neatly with a marker pen on top. The top one said Homeless.

In the corner thick bundles of newspapers were laid out in a long rectangle, with some blankets on top, made up into a bed. Next to it was the skin from a snake, shrivelled dry. You could see each transparent scale, outlined in white, the dark holes where its eyes once searched for sunlight. I put it in Sam’s hands. He smoothed its still head.

I found cards for Sam: BIG, DOG, and because I couldn’t find the right words gave him GONE. Then: MAN and FRIEND, because I guessed Jed lived here with Homeless. But I couldn’t stop wondering why Mum had brought Homeless to school, wondering why I had seen her walking with Jed in town.

Sam wanted to go to the lake. It’s like he knew it was there even though it didn’t make a sound, even though he couldn’t touch it. I led him down to the edge. He called, like you do when you go through a tunnel. His voice bounced round the banks, came back to us gently.

Mum was there, standing on the far side. Her red coat vivid. I imagined in my silent heart she could hear me across the still water. “Is Homeless with you?” I asked her. “Have you seen him?” And she smiled and said, Yes, I have. And one day, he’ll find you.

Sam closed his eyes. I think he was listening in his heart too. The tops of the trees shushed as if we should stay quiet in this forgotten place.

I wanted to tell Sam about the tramp, how I saw him with my mum and that Homeless had been with both of them. But his cards didn’t have the right words, or any of the little words that we use in between. And anyway, just then, Mrs Cooper’s loud alarm clock went off. Even Sam jumped. We both knew we had to go back, that there wasn’t time to go further.

Mrs Cooper hugged Sam like he’d been gone for a hundred years. It made me think he’d never been out without her before. He wriggled and wiped her kisses away. Somehow he looked different, and I felt different too. Like we’d started a journey, an adventure or something, and because we’d been together, because of that it made us stronger.

26.

NEXT EVENING DAD WAS GOING OUT FOR A pint with some lads from work and asked Mrs Cooper if she’d keep an eye out for me. Luke was instructed to tell me to go to bed after he had watched a DVD.

Sam and me sat outside on the front wall with our faces turned to the sky. I knew Sam couldn’t see what I could see but I wondered if he could tell how far away things were. Maybe in his darkness he knew all about infinity. The sky was just dark enough to show the twinkling eye of the brightest star. “Are you up there?” I whispered in my mind. “Can you see me?”

Long black shadows stretched across the grass towards us. I nudged Sam, breathed in deep because my heart was thumping so hard. Homeless came padding out of the shadows. Two figures walked behind him. Mum and Jed.

They all stopped a little way away. I couldn’t tell if Jed could see her, if he knew she was there. Mum reached into her pocket. I thought I saw her lips moving, I thought she might be saying something to Jed, but he didn’t look at her. And then she was gone, just as if someone had blown out the birthday candles.

Jed and Homeless came close.

Sam slid off the wall and Jed let him feel round his face. Jed’s eyes were bright as Sam turned his palms up and bounced his hands up and down as if he was throwing something. Jed laughed, a soft laugh.

“Hello,” said Mrs Cooper, coming out with two mugs of hot chocolate. “I know you. Seen you in town often enough. You tried to teach Sam and me to juggle a couple of times.”

The corners of Jed’s eyes crinkled so you knew he was smiling. “Hello,” he said softly.

Mrs Cooper put the mugs down and tapped on Sam’s hands. He nodded madly. He already knew who Jed was.

Mrs Cooper looked at Homeless lying on his back with his belly in the air, his pink tongue curled, his ears fallen back.

“Is it your dog?” she said to Jed. “It came here the other day. We thought it was a stray.”

“I look after him,” he said, and he kept smiling. “Sometimes I have to leave him on his own for a bit.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, food or blankets? I can call the RSPCA or someone if you’re having difficulties?”

Jed ruffled Homeless and shook his head. “Just hungry,” he said.

Mrs Cooper went in and came out with some fruit cake and a mug of tea for Jed. She gave Homeless some corned beef straight from the tin, asked Jed if he had everything he needed.

He looked at me; his eyes were warm and friendly. He nodded and whispered, “I think so.”

We all sat on a blanket and leaned against the wall and watched the night sky stealing the light. Mrs Cooper chatted away to Jed about how much it had been raining considering it was the start of summer. Then we were quiet as we blew on our hot drinks. I saw the steam rising, disappearing.

Then Sam suddenly said something, the clearest I ever heard him speak.

“Whose dog is it?”

“It’s Jed’s dog, Sam,” said Mrs Cooper, tapping. Sam shook his head. Jed was shaking his head too.

“Whose dog?” said Sam louder, pulling at Jed’s arm.

The stars seemed to have fallen from the sky and were in Jed’s eyes and I just knew he was going to say something beautiful. I saw Mrs Cooper spell what Jed said to me on Sam’s hand.

“I’m his guardian, if you like,” he said, looking into my eyes. “But he belongs with you.”

27.

DAD WAS WAITING FOR ME AFTER SCHOOL THE next day. I had to stand outside the classroom while he talked to Miss Steadman and Mrs Brooks. Miss Steadman kept looking through the doorway and in the end came out to give me a crossword puzzle. She smiled and closed the door behind her. I couldn’t do the puzzle.

Dad was in there for ages. And even then we didn’t go home. We had another appointment.

The doctor pressed my tongue down with a spatula, prodded around my neck, measured my temperature. He said he couldn’t find anything wrong with me and that Dad was doing the right thing by talking to the people at school. He was going to send a report to the school and they would contact an expert called Dr Colborn, a psycho or something like that.

Dad looked more worried when we left than when we went in. And it made me feel scared of Dr Colborn. I started to think that she was going to make me tell her that I saw my dead mum and then tell me it wasn’t true and make me say it wasn’t true. And worse, if I said it wasn’t true, it might make Mum go away forever and then I might never see Homeless again. Already I hated Dr Colborn.

We still didn’t go home. Dad said he needed to go back into work to catch up on what happened at a meeting. The bus dropped us outside H. Packaging. Five men were waiting outside, the top half of their blue overalls tied by the arms round their waists. They hardly lifted their heads as Dad passed.

“How did it go?” Dad said.

“You’re too late,” one of them said. “We’re out. All of us.”

Dad told me to wait. He slammed the door behind him and started shouting. Rain drummed on the metal roof. It sounded like a war had started. I covered my ears, but there was pounding and hammering coming from inside too.