183 Times a Year (8 page)

I open the back door of my second home still seething about the bloody tongue piercing and smoking weed thing with Mum and catch my grandparent's sort of arguing.

I know what Nan means, Grandad does say that a lot, but he does make me smile all the same. Somehow nothing ever seems that bad when Grandad puts his arm around me and says,

“Dan chu worry sweedheart. Remember – it's not a life, it's an adventure.”

Nan is right though, cancer isn't an adventure but she still smiles at Grandad when he says it. It's his way of trying to cheer someone up when they're sad or down. Grandad pulls Nan to him and kisses the top of her silver hair. They have been together like, forever but they still love each other. Which is so cute. They managed to stick at it. Pity their daughter couldn't do the same. Although to be fair it was actually Dad who left Mum, but she probably drove him to it.

‘Cassie gal, how are ya?' Grandad shouts when he sees me.

Grandad puts that old style Frankie & Benny's restaurant music on that they listen to sometimes and starts dancing and
twirling
Nan round the room. Nan pretends to be annoyed but she's laughing.

Everyone says Grandad is grumpy but it's grumpy in a funny way. He moans a lot but it's different to Mum's nagging coz he makes me laugh. Grandad swears quite a lot too, much to Simon's annoyance, which makes it all the more funny. His favourite words are “fuck off”, which he always says when he disagrees with someone or something but because of his cockney accent it always sounds like “fack orf”. Grandad says that all the kids from my generation are spoilt but I know he loves us.

Freddy – Nan and Grandad's black and white cocker spaniel – sits next to me and looks as amused, if not a little confused, as I am, as Grandad continues to spin, whirl and twist Nan around the room. If Nan was sad before I walked through the door, she isn't now.

Freddy barks enthusiastically at them both and I can't help laughing along.

‘See Cassie,' Grandad shouts, ‘I wasn't always a grumpy old git. Bit of a dapper dancer in the day ya know?'

I sit back on their comfy old sofa, kicking my shoes off, curling my feet under my big backside that has too much fat dimpled junk in it, and let that lovely safe feeling wash over me. I can't explain what it is but all my stress seems to stop at my grandparent's door. No one is nagging at me to do this or that, or promising me stuff then letting me down. Everything's just warm and chilled and safe.

And they don't let me use my phone when I'm with them but for some reason I don't mind. I can't explain it but it really pisses me off when Mum tells me to stop using my phone but I respect it when Nan and Grandad ask. Besides I don't really mind coz I always feel like my head's had a rest when I've been here.

It's not that Nan and Grandad don't like technology though.
Nan
has one of those Kindle thingies to read with but Grandad still prefers real life books. They have a computer too, which they're quite good at using. Except Grandad does get like, a bit confused from time to time and sometimes ends up shouting at it, which is actually like well funny. Nan has Facebook too, which is like dead embarrassing coz sometimes she posts things on my wall, then everyone takes the piss of me. I want to unfriend her but like, she's my Nan and everything, so I can't.

Nan and Grandad like music too and love listening to me play the piano. They say music is good for the soul. They're quite cool and like a lot of chart music. Mumford and Sons is their favourite band at the moment, although Grandad quite likes some dance music. They also like a lot of the music Mum grew up with in the 80's but they say the 60's were the best. It's thanks to them I have a real dyslexic (or is it electric? Whatevs) taste in music.

When they stop dancing I make us all a cup of tea (or Rosie Lee as Grandad calls it) and Nan cuts us a slice of her homemade bread pudding. Grandad gets some of Bob Dylan's songs up on the computer. He says he wants to show me Bob Dylan coz he knows I like Adele and he knows Adele sang a Bob Dylan song. It's the one that always makes Mum cry. The one she says she dedicated to me and Connor. She should bloody well listen to the words of that song then sometimes when she's like nagging at me.

I talk with Nan and Grandad for a while, listening to some Bob Dylan and then to some of the early stuff by Grandad's favourite band, The Rolling Stones. I dedicate
Paint It Black
to Maisy and
19th Nervous Breakdown
to Mum coz she always acts like she's having one. I make the dedication in my head though of course. Not out loud coz I have to respect that Mum is Nan and Grandad's daughter, after all. It's not their fault they made such an idiot.

Nan
looks tired; it's the radiotherapy I think. Thankfully the Doctors have caught the cancer early so she doesn't have to have chemotherapy which I'm like well pleased about coz Nan has lovely hair and it would be like well bad for her to lose it. I told her I'd chop all my hair off too if she did lose hers to make her feel better. So I'm like well chuffed she hasn't. It would be like sooooooo embarrassing if I had no hair. No boys would
ever
fancy me then.

Nan lies down on the sofa and Grandad covers her up with a blanket. He kisses her head and tells her to rest for a while. He also tells me I can stay for a few more minutes, and then I have to go, so Nan can sleep.

Grandad goes outside to his laboratory in the garden – well, it's an old garage converted into a room with hundreds of books really. He's not a scientist or anything but he is a bit mad I suppose. Eccentric Nan says.

LIZZIE

Can someone please tell me who, when writing the rulebook for teenagers, felt that slamming doors was compulsory and should be adhered to at all times? And we're not just talking the front door or their bedroom door. Although they are often the preferred choice and never more so than when trying to make a statement of sorts. But teenagers are not picky.

It can be the bathroom door:

‘I'm taking a shower.' Bang!! ‘Arrggghh, get it out, get it out, get that bloody spider out.'

Or the front door:

‘I'm going out.' Crash!!

Alternatively, there's the back door:

‘For god's bloody sake, why do
I
have to get the washing in?' Whack!!

There's
the washing machine door:

‘For god's bloody sake, why do
I
have to put the washing on?' Thud!!

Let's not forget the car door:

‘What? Oh yeah, thanks for the lift, I suppose. Don't forget to pick me up.' Slam!!

And last but not least, the bedroom door:

‘I bloody hate you. You never let me do anything.' Smash!!

I contemplate a life without doors? Not practical. I contemplate a life without teenage daughters? Not possible, at least not just yet, but I am working on it. I contemplate a glass of wine and chocolate. Very practical, very possible. Happy Days!

CASSIE

Nan has fallen asleep so I pull my phone out to check the time. One hour until my final exam. If I leave now I can take a slow walk to school.

Pheebs has texted and asked me to meet her but I've made up an excuse about not being able to coz I'm here with Nan. She's with Chelsea and her lot and they're probably all smoking and I really can't be arsed with it.

Freddy is sleeping next to Nan but opens his eyes as I stand up to go. I walk quietly towards him, stroke his head and whisper goodbye. He licks my face, rolls back slightly and lifts his paw. He's waving goodbye to me, I know he is. I love Freddy coz he loves me just for being me.

As I step outside I take a deep breath. It's a warm day but still a bit crisp and the sky is a lovely blue instead of that horrible grey it can be sometimes. I start to walk, relieved this is going to be my last exam. I swear to god I'm going to sit around in my onesie for a whole week when this exam has finished and
I'll
do it eating ice cream and watching those ridiculous reality programmes as Mum calls them.

She's already nagging me to get a job for the summer. As if. Like,
no
one has worked as hard as I have for the last year. I actually deserve a year off from everything. I still don't really know if I even want to go to Sixth Form in September. Think I'd rather go to college and study music but Mum would flip.

Can't believe bloody Tabitha, what a cow, a boring, fun sucking cow; bet she couldn't wait to spill the spaghetti. Oh god, Mum's bound to interrogate me when I get home. I don't even bloody like smoking. It was Pheebs' brother's spliff and it was her who told me to have a drag. She said I needed to know how to do it properly ready for Chelsea's party. She said it makes you look proper grown up and everyone will take the piss if I can't do it right. It tastes rank though. I mean proper disgusting. Give me a bar of chocolate any day. It didn't even do anything for me either coz I only took one bloody drag for god bloody sake and now Mum thinks I smoke weed!

Oh god, she'd better not ground me. I like soooooo need to go to this party, more than life itself. If I don't go I could lose all my friends and it's a well-known fact that not having any friends is as harmful as smoking. It was on UberFacts or something, so it
must
be true.

So, if Mum doesn't let me go she's making it as bad as me smoking anyway.

She'll have to take responsibility for making me ill if I have no friends. So she'll have to let me go for health reasons.

I check my phone. Mum hasn't wished me luck for my exam yet?

I look up and feel the sun on my face. It's been nice to get some fresh air. I feel like I've got a clear head and I'm ready for my exam. However, that feeling quickly fades as I turn a corner and the building that's been my prison for the last five years
comes
into sight. My tummy flips. The nerves are starting and I have butterflies threatening to flutter my memory away. Oh god, now my stomach is like making rumbling noises, but I feel too nervous to eat. I feel dead panicky. I'm trying to remember what Mum said:

‘Take a deep breath Cassie – then exhale – nice and slow.'

I hate to admit it but she's right, it does actually help, a bit.

I can see Pheebs up ahead. She's waiting with Chelsea and some of the others and it looks like they're all passing a ciggie around. My stomach flips again coz I really don't want to join in. I just don't like it. But then if they don't offer me a drag, that'll make me look crap anyway. Oh bloody hell. Pheebs has spotted me and she's waving. Chelsea turns to see who she's waving at and glares at me. She looks away again and says something to everyone then they all look towards me and laugh, including Pheebs.

I don't think Chelsea really likes me anymore and I'm like, not quite sure why, coz I thought she did a couple of months ago. I miss not going round her house coz the truth is I like sooooo fancy her brother – not that I'll ever be good enough for someone like him. Her Dad was nice too; he talked to me, quite a lot actually.

Once, when Chelsea nipped to the loo, her Dad put his arm round me and said I had a stunning body. Which made me like blush a bit, and if I'm honest, a bit uncomfortable. None of the boys at school have ever said that to me though. His hand brushed near my boob as well, but I'm pretty sure it was an accident. He was always really nice to me though.

As I join them all, Chelsea is drawing heavily on the ciggie they've been sharing. She blows smoke from it in my face, which makes me cough a bit and everyone else laugh. Then she thrusts the disgusting thing in my face.

‘Smoke this or you can't come to my party,' she demands.

I
reluctantly take the lighted fag from her and put the stupid thing to my lips. I try to remember what Pheebs showed me to do with the spliff (which is like the same I think) and I suck hard on the stupid cancer stick. My nightmare comes true though and I cough and splutter like the virgin smoker idiot I am. Everyone around me erupts into raucous laughter, including Joe. I feel humiliated. I try to laugh but it's not easy to do when you're gasping and choking.

‘Oi Miss,' Chelsea shouts. ‘Miss, over here, Cassie is smoking inside the school gate.'

Before I know it Chelsea has dragged me past the metal gate and is holding onto me. I'm mortified when Miss Jay marches up to me and takes both me and the cigarette inside. She gives me a stern talking to which makes me late and almost miss the start of the exam.

My phone vibrates just as I grab my pen to take into the main hall. I hope its Dad wishing me luck. I look at the screen. Oh, it's a text from Mum.

Hey there lovely girl, lots of luck in your final exam today. I'm very proud of you. Don't worry about Tabitha, we'll chat about it later. Love you xxx

Arrggghh, why does she have to be so bloody nice and why do I feel like crying?

Why hasn't Dad texted me – again?