A Pocketful of Stars, page 9
Eventually she puts the phone down and I go to address her, but she stands up and leaves the reception area to go into a room across the hall. I watch her lazy steps as if she has all the time in the world.
I can feel the monster crawl up through my ribcage, the way it does when my blood starts to boil. I swallow it down, along with the panic, and it slides back into the pit of my stomach. I can almost feel the thud as it lands, making me nauseated.
The nurse sits back down again, but instead of speaking to me she resumes typing. Then she folds her arms and looks up at me. ‘Can I help?’ she finally asks.
‘My mum’s in that room,’ I explain, pointing behind me. ‘She was just moved over, I think. But there’s something important that’s gone missing –’
‘If you would like to file a complaint, you’ll have to go online and –’
I frown at her. ‘It’s not that,’ I snap, clenching my teeth together to bite the irritation down. ‘I left it in the drawer in her old room. I just wondered whether there was any way to go and get it?’
‘Well, I’m afraid you can’t go into a ward unless you’re a visitor,’ she says.
I wait for her to continue, to offer a solution, but she doesn’t.
‘I know that,’ I say slowly, trying to keep calm. ‘I just wondered when we would be able to get it back?’
‘I’ll have to check with one of the nurses,’ she says, turning back to her computer.
I wait. She doesn’t say anything else.
‘Did you want to know what ward it was on?’ I ask.
‘That would be an idea.’ The woman smiles, but it’s not very kind. I notice the name on her badge: Sue.
I tell her and a couple of minutes later, after she makes a quick call, Sue says, ‘One of the nurses is going to have a look and bring it over when they can.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, even as my insides are screaming.
So, all I can to do now is wait.
Back in the room I sit back down next to Mum. I look at her, realizing I haven’t done that in a while; I’ve been too preoccupied with Aminah.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I begin. My voice is a little hoarse. For some reason there are tears in my eyes almost immediately, like they’d been waiting for the right moment to fall. ‘Mum, I’m sorry.’
I think of all the things I have to be sorry for, and it drags up emotions I had buried, like seashells at the bottom of the ocean. For not visiting her that day or sending her a message. For not taking the time to talk to her, hug her. For making her feel jealous of Dad. For treating our weekly visits like a chore. Finally I know what it is I need to say. It’s simple. ‘I’m sorry I’ve pushed you away all these years.’
I think back to all those moments I could have got to know her more. I was so used to her being around, so used to her asking questions and pushing things with us, that I forgot to push back.
Then I think about the argument and the final words I said to Mum before she went into hospital. I know I need to face it. And today, without the memories to hide behind, I’m ready.
‘I love Dad more than I love you! I understand him and he understands me. We –’ I waved my arms between us – ‘we’re too different. You come from a different world.’
Each time I spoke must’ve been like a punch in the gut.
Mum was crying. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I do. I had a whole life before you, Safiya. Everything you’re doing now, feeling now, I’ve done it and felt it too.’
Her voice was shaking, but I pushed and pushed and pushed.
I told her I didn’t care what she had to say, and I was fed up of visiting her every weekend. And she just stood there and listened.
‘We’re more alike than you think,’ Mum said when I eventually stopped. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve. ‘And no matter what you say about any of that I love you.’
I should’ve said it back. I should’ve said ‘I love you.’
But I didn’t. Instead I left.
‘I love you,’ I say now, hoping it’s not too late.
Amanda comes in soon after and I stand up. She’s holding the perfume in both of her palms like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
‘Safiya!’ she says, seemingly pleased to see me. ‘When I heard whose bed it was I wanted to fetch it myself.’ Amanda’s voice always goes up at the end of her sentences, so it’s kind of like we’re in a Disney film and she’s singing about our day. ‘You’re doing great,’ she adds, handing me the bottle. I almost expect a bunch of woodland creatures to jump on to her shoulders, lift it from her hands and transport it to mine. ‘Collecting all your mum’s things for her, bringing them here for her. It all helps with the recovery. Keep going!’
Amanda leaves soon after, but her words linger in my mind.
I can make this up to Mum, and I will.
I use one drop of perfume on her forehead. I wipe it across with my fingers, caressing her face.
I lean down and give her a kiss on her brow.
And almost immediately I drift, drift, drift . . .
The house is back to normal now, and it’s as if it had never started falling apart, or flooded right up to the ceiling. Everything was OK in the end. Still, I’m mad at myself for wasting time on the door when I could have been collecting memories and objects.
There’s no more time to waste. I run across the foyer to the bathroom, where the tap is flowing again. Already the sink is full, spilling on to the bathroom floor.
I step over the puddles and turn the tap off. The change is small, but I can feel it, almost as if it’s a part of me. The steady heartbeat of the house picks up pace, like the crescendo in a happy song. And I feel ready, ready for what’s to come.
‘What are you doing?’ Zaina asks Aminah, who is trying her best to tame her hair in the bathroom mirror.
‘Nothing,’ Aminah responds, not even glancing at her.
‘Where are you going?’ Zaina hops around her sister, questions tumbling out of her mouth.
‘Nowhere.’
Zaina pouts. ‘Can I come?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not going anywhere!’ Aminah’s annoyed now. She finishes at the mirror, and turns to Zaina, frowning.
She’s silent for a moment, and then rearranges her face into a smile. ‘Tell you what,’ she says, her voice rising an octave. ‘Why don’t you braid my hair for me?’
Zaina’s face lights up. ‘Really?’ she asks, as if the suggestion is too good to be true.
Aminah nods, her smile shark-like.
I narrow my eyes. Something seems . . . off.
As soon as Zaina skips up the stairs to get a brush and some hair bobbles, Aminah bolts out of the bathroom and rushes to the courtyard outside. She’s already scaled the wall before I make it out after her.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Aminah tells Rawan once she’s settled under the canopy of leaves. ‘My sister was being annoying. I had to get rid of her. If she found out about this place, she would never leave us alone.’
‘It’s OK,’ Rawan says. She’s silent for just a beat too long. ‘I kind of have a surprise for you . . .’
Aminah raises her eyebrows. ‘You’re finally going to assassinate me?’ she jokes.
Rawan laughs, and I can see how comfortable the two are around one another. I wonder how much time has passed since the last memory.
Rawan answers the question for me, like she heard my thoughts.
‘How long have we been friends now?’ she asks.
Aminah shrugs. ‘Few weeks?’
Rawan nods. ‘Well, I’ve been keeping a bit of a secret from you this whole time,’ she admits.
‘You’re a ghost?’
Rawan shakes her head.
‘You’re actually an alien in human skin?’
‘Closer,’ Rawan says. ‘But not quite.’
Aminah looks a little nervous now. ‘What is it?’ she asks, frowning, her humour gone.
‘I’m in a theatre group!’ Rawan declares, handing Aminah a flyer.
I peer over at it.
Aminah laughs, looking relieved. ‘This is . . . not what I expected you to say.’
Rawan raises her eyebrows. ‘What did you think I would say?’
Aminah shrugs. ‘That you were moving away or something. Anyway,’ she continues, ‘why is there a question mark next to the location?’
‘Well . . . it’s a secret theatre, so you keep the location hidden.’
‘Why is it a secret?’
Rawan shrugs this time. ‘Because that makes it more magical.’
‘Rawan,’ Aminah says, after inspecting the flyer, ‘this is impressive.’
Rawan beams at her. ‘There are two other girls who are doing it with me, Hana and Ib, and they’re really cool.’
‘You have other friends?’ Aminah puts her hand to her heart, her expression scandalized. ‘How dare you!’
Rawan laughs.
‘So, when can I watch the play?’
‘Well . . .’ Rawan takes a deep breath. ‘Tonight, actually, if you like. When we rehearse.’
Aminah looks serious for a moment. ‘I’ll have to get away from my sister somehow – she’s so nosy – but that should be fine!’
‘There’s more . . .’ Rawan says, twisting her fingers round the bottom of her top. ‘Would you . . . would you want to play the main character, Rapunzel?’ Aminah’s jaw drops. ‘Someone dropped out last minute . . . We’re kind of desperate.’
Aminah frowns.
‘I’m the prince,’ Rawan explains in a rush. ‘So you’ll mainly be acting with me. Pretty please?’
‘Why can’t one of the others do it? I’ve never acted before!’
Rawan sighs. ‘They don’t want to. Come on, it’ll be fun!’
Aminah is thoughtful for some time. ‘I’ll try . . . but I can’t promise anything.’
‘Great!’ Rawan says, overjoyed. ‘Perfect.’
‘On one condition,’ Aminah adds, smirking.
‘Anything,’ Rawan answers solemnly.
‘You bring the snacks next time.’
Rawan and Aminah fall into a contemplative silence as Aminah presents her with flasks of saffron tea and sugar sweets stolen from the kitchen.
‘This could be good actually . . .’ Aminah says, sipping her drink. ‘I need an extracurricular anyway, to apply to schools in England.’
But the words are barely out of her mouth before a great big crash sounds just over the wall by Aminah’s house.
I jump, sand flying everywhere.
‘What was that?’ Rawan frowns.
Aminah runs up to the wall and pulls herself up, peering over it. The slide has toppled to the ground. I glance across the courtyard and see something move out of the corner of my eye, right by the kitchen door. But it’s too fast and by the time I turn to look, it’s gone.
‘It was just the cats,’ Aminah answers, relief evident in her voice.
I follow her eyes. The two cats are sniffing round the slide, looking very guilty.
Aminah and I take our seats back across from Rawan.
The memory starts to fade as the pair discuss their first group rehearsal that very night.
‘Where are we holding it?’ Aminah asks. ‘I almost forgot to ask!’
‘Here, at midnight. When everyone else is asleep.’
Aminah laughs. ‘OK, Cinderella. Midnight it is.’
As I walk into Mum’s flat I swear I can see the silver branches along her walls, the yellow flowers that sprout anew each time I unlock another memory. I can see a mound of sand where her coffee table usually stands; palm trees hang down instead of her lamp and television. And at the very centre of the room are Rawan and Aminah, exactly as they were in the last memory.
But then I blink and they’re gone. The living room is back to normal.
I think back to the house, and the memories, and try to figure out what I need to do next. I thought I was supposed to collect the objects that unlocked the memories. The bracelet and the cat kind of worked in that way. But the third memory was unlocked by a tap. And I can’t exactly collect the tap from Mum’s old house, can I?
That’s how I know I’ve been looking at it wrong. It’s not about the objects that unlock the memories; it’s about what’s in the memories. That’s how cutscenes in games work. They give you clues, but you need to watch the cutscenes carefully to know what your mission is about.
In the first memory Zaina stole Aminah’s bracelet and that’s why they were arguing.
In the second memory Rawan challenged Aminah to pet one of the cats, and that’s how they became friends.
So what happened in the third memory? Rawan asked Aminah to join the play. But what object could be linked to it? What do I need to find to unlock the next memory?
I know the right answer will come to me, but I don’t have it just yet, so I decide to search Mum’s flat in the hope that something will jump out at me.
I start at the front door and work my way through Mum’s flat methodically. I look in every drawer searching for something. Except I don’t know what that is just yet. I move from the living room to the kitchen and back again. I try fridge magnets, cutlery, the medicine box, old magazines. I even look in all the plant pots and under the sofa.
Next I try Mum’s bedroom. I start in her wardrobe, hoping to find some old box with trinkets in it. Secret items Mum didn’t want anyone else to see. It feels wrong, like I’m invading her privacy, but I keep telling myself that I’m doing this to save her. And there’s this other part of me that wants to find out more, like the memories have woken up something inside me.
The wardrobe door isn’t fully shut and when I pull it open Mum’s clothes spill out, a pile crumpled at the bottom where they’ve fallen off the hanger. I start rummaging at the back and get excited when my hands grasp something solid. Yes. I pull it out to find it’s a shoebox. The perfect place to hide your secrets. But when I open it, to my disappointment, I find a pair of shoes.
I change tack, removing everything from Mum’s wardrobe, even patting down the wood for a secret compartment. I feel bad about making a mess, so I spend double the time hanging everything back up, until it looks better than how Mum left it.
I spot a beautiful green-and-blue beaded mermaid-style dress Mum has from Kuwait. It’s glittery and shiny and looks like scales covered in gold and gems. I remember Mum wearing it years ago when I was very little, but I had forgotten about it.
After a moment I reluctantly shut the wardrobe door and keep searching. My arms ache now and I’ve found nothing.
I move over to Mum’s chest of drawers. Then I try under the bed, on top of the wardrobe, in the bathroom cupboards. I check all her folders and photos lying round the house. I even check the toilet cistern before I realize how ridiculous this has become. I’m a little manic, like a detective searching for clues.
I stomp around the flat like an angry bear, until I collapse on the sofa in a heap. Think, Safiya, think.
I look across at Mum’s bookshelves and spot a photo album sitting next to an old copy of The Wizard of Oz. I rush over and look through the album carefully, but none of photos are from when Mum was my age. It’s like there’s a great big black hole swallowing up that part of her past. There are photos of Mum as a toddler, but then they skip to Mum at university, and Mum after she met Dad.
Why would she keep these if she’s not with Dad any more . . . ? I think back to the way Dad spoke about Mum, and how he said it was complicated. Maybe she does still love him? Maybe things aren’t as simple as I thought . . .
Just then I get a message from Elle.
My heart practically leaps from my chest. I haven’t heard from her since our sleepover, and that went so badly I’m scared to read what she has to say.
Elle: Hey, Saff. Miss you this week. <3 Me and the girls were talking and we thought it would be cool to end half-term by going to Maccies and then the cinema with some of the boys? Matty’s going to be there, of course. It might be a good time for you two to make up?
I frown, a little confused by almost everything she’s said. First of all, when has she been chatting to the girls without me?
Secondly, ‘Matty’s going to be there, of course’. I’m the one who’s been her best friend for over half our lives. Not him.
And what does she mean by make up? I never realized we’d fallen out . . . Has she told him about what I said?
I reply to Elle’s message all nice and sweet, but inside I’m burning. The truth is, I’m scared about what’s going to happen between me and Elle if I don’t go. And I need to figure things out with her, even if it means being around Matty.
Safiya: Miss you too <3. Sounds great! When are we going? X
Elle sends back a virtual invitation to the event, like it’s a birthday party and not some sort of casual hang-out. That’s when it hits me.
The flyer for the play. That must be the object linked to the last memory.
I shove my phone aside and grab Mum’s laptop. It’s still on her coffee table from before she went to the hospital. It’s dead, so I look for the charger. Mum’s so messy and random that I end up finding it in the cupboard with her mugs after about ten minutes of searching.
I pace up and down her living room while I wait for the laptop to get enough charge to turn on. When it does I’m relieved to see she hasn’t set a password. I manage to get on it without any trouble. I cross my fingers and hope to find the person I’m looking for . . .
I look for her name in Mum’s emails and a whole stream of messages come up.
The most recent one is dated just a month ago. They’ve kept in contact for all these years. That’s true friendship.
I don’t read Mum’s emails, because that feels too personal, but I copy Rawan’s email address and start drafting a message from my phone.
Hi Rawan,
You might know who I am . . .
‘Are you sure you want to get all of that?’ Elle whispers from behind me. We’re at Maccies with the others and I’m just about to buy a burger and chips.
