My Sister Jodie (39 page)

THEY WOULDN'T LET
me hold her. I wanted to rock her the way she'd rocked the badger cub. They said she mustn't be touched in case her neck was broken. I screamed at them then because of course her neck was broken. She was broken all over, my sister Jodie, and I needed to hold her to keep her together. But they took her away in the ambulance and I didn't get to see her again.

I begged and begged and begged to go to the funeral parlour. I needed to see Jodie when she was put in her coffin. I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to shut her eyes and turn her mouth up in a little smile. I had to comb her dear purple hair and dress her in her shortest shirt and slip her crazy shoes back on her upturned feet. I wasn't sure if she'd want books tucked into her coffin too. I planned to give her all my stories instead and I wanted to put her old wooden rocket in her hand.

Mum wouldn't listen. She just cried and cried.
Dad tried to understand, but he kept shaking his head.

‘I can't let you do that, darling. It's too morbid. I don't think it's allowed anyway. It would likely give you terrible nightmares seeing our poor Jodie now.'

Dad started crying then and I couldn't argue any more with him.

There was so many tears, so many arguments. We couldn't have the funeral straight away. There were mad questions and enquiries. Some people thought Jodie had killed herself deliberately. This was so crazy I started screaming again. Of course my sister hadn't committed suicide. She'd been trying to reassure Dan and the other littlies. She'd leaned out of the window to show them she wasn't really the sad white whispering woman, she was just our mad Jodie with her purple hair and her red shoes. She'd slipped in those shoes, she'd lost her balance, she'd fallen. It was an accident.

I said it was an accident, Mum and Dad said it was an accident, Mr Wilberforce said it was an accident, but the newspapers wrote all kinds of sleazy lies about my sister. They suggested she was a total misfit at her exclusive boarding school, treated harshly by the teachers, bullied by the other pupils, made so miserable that she took her own life.

They couldn't prove it though. I'm the only one who knows everything about Jodie, because she was my sister and she loved me more than anyone else in the whole world. As if she'd ever kill herself and leave me behind!

When we could have her funeral at last, Mum and Dad wouldn't let her be buried at Melchester church. They couldn't bear the thought of leaving
her, lonely and moulding in the grounds. We were moving far away immediately afterwards. We needed to set Jodie free.

They held the funeral in the nearest crematorium, twenty miles away in Galford. They wanted the ceremony to be private, but the whole school attended.

‘I don't want them there! They just want to show the school in the best light possible after all that bullying scandal in the papers,' Mum said bitterly.

‘Maybe. But maybe they want to mourn our Jodie too,' Dad said.

Everyone was in their neatest uniform. Every little girl had snowy socks, every little boy had his hair grimly parted. Every Junior had their tie neatly knotted and their shirt tucked in. Every single Senior carried a lily to put on top of Jodie's coffin.

Mr Wilberforce wore a dark suit and a black tie. He pushed Mrs Wilberforce in her wheelchair. She wore a black net veil over her long white hair and a black velvet cloak that covered her legs. Miss French stood humbly behind them in a shiny navy suit that was too tight for her. The teachers stood in a sober line, gripping their hymn books.

Jed was there too, in an old donkey jacket because it was clearly the only dark garment he possessed. His head was bowed. He looked white and watery-eyed. He could have been grief-stricken, but then again he might simply be suffering from a hangover.

Mum and Dad and I were right at the front. Jodie was wheeled in alongside us, flowers heaped on her mahogany coffin. I pictured her lying on her
back, pulling faces at all the false sentiment, yawning when the vicar went on at length about ‘this beautiful vibrant young girl', making vomit noises when Anna of all people stood up to sing part of Fauré's Requiem.

I whispered to Jodie throughout the service and she talked back to me, telling me she was OK, indeed this was her finest moment, everyone united in celebrating her life. The little ones were sobbing, Dan and Sakura totally sodden, and even Zeph was snivelling.

‘Tell them to watch out,' Jodie joked. ‘If they wail
too
much, I might creep back and haunt them.
I
'm the sad white whispering woman now, and I'll go
Whoooo
in their little earholes.'

She chuckled and I laughed too. Dad put his arm round me, holding me tight. His face was already salmon-pink, suppressing his tears. Mum was huddled beside him, head bowed, hands over her face. Her shoulders shuddered up and down as she sobbed.

‘Get Mum!' said Jodie. ‘It's killing her that I've got purple hair for my own funeral.'

‘It's killing her that you're dead, Jodie. She loves you so. We all do,' I whispered. ‘Look at poor Dad.'

‘I know. You look after him for me, Pearl. Give him lots of big hugs. I do love him so much. But I love you more, babe. You're my best ever little sister and I love you the most, remember?'

‘I'll always remember. I love you the most for ever and ever and ever,' I said as the organ music blared for the last hymn.

There were other sounds too, weird clankings. Then Jodie's coffin jerked, and just for a split
second I thought she was going to jump straight up out of her coffin, scattering all the flowers, and go, ‘
Joke!
I'm not really dead, you suckers.'

But the lid stayed on, the wreaths in place, Mum and Dad's huge roses and my heart of freesias, but the coffin shunted slowly forwards, towards the curtains at the end.

‘No!' I shouted. ‘No, don't go, Jodie! Don't leave me!'

I struggled with Dad, desperate to get to the coffin before it disappeared for ever. He hung onto me, pinning me into my seat. Jodie chugged off through the curtains without even saying goodbye.

There was a reception back at the school. Mum insisted on doing the catering herself, with Dad helping her. I helped too, handing out cups of tea and sandwiches and fruit cake. It seemed bizarre for anyone to want to eat at a time like this. I'd been allowed to invite Harley and Harriet as they were special friends.

Harry was howling, her eyes red, her nose running. I gave her a hug.

‘Oh, Pearl, I'm supposed to be comforting
you
!' she wailed. ‘I'm so sorry. It's so awful for you. And I'm going to miss you so when you go away. Please please please let's stay friends and write to each other heaps.'

‘Of course, Harry. You've been a lovely friend. I promise I'll write lots,' I said.

Harley didn't cry, but his voice was oddly thick, as if he had a bad cold.

‘You're being so brave, Pearl,' he said. ‘I wish there was some way I could make it easier for you. I've never really had a friend like you before. It's
been so great hanging out with you, watching the badgers, making up daft games, all of it. I'm going to miss you terribly.'

‘I'll miss you terribly too, Harley.'

‘You know something? I'm going to miss Jodie so much too,' said Harley.

I could talk to my friends but I didn't want to talk to the teachers, not even lovely Mrs Lewin. I kept right away from Mr Wilberforce – but I wanted to talk to his wife.

She saw me hovering. ‘Could you wheel me out of the room for a moment, Pearl?' she said.

I pushed her into one of the empty classrooms. She reached out with her one good hand.

‘How are you coping, Pearl?'

‘I'm OK,' I said.

‘No, you're not,' she said. ‘Come here.'

I went nearer, reluctantly. She managed to pull me close.

‘What are you thinking right this second?' she whispered.

‘That I want Jodie,' I said.

‘Of course.'

‘And that nothing will ever be the same again.'

‘It won't be, I know.'

‘And – and – it's all my fault she's dead!' I said, and then I started weeping.

She sat there, her good arm round me, while I cried on her chest, leaving snail trails of tears and snot all over her black velvet.

‘Tell me why you think it's your fault, Pearl,' she said, stroking my hair.

‘I should have stopped her going up to the tower room. I should have stood up to her more. I should
never have said I wanted to come to Melchester College. She only said she'd come for my sake.'

‘Yes, I see why you could argue it's all your fault, Pearl,' said Mrs Wilberforce. ‘But so could all of us. I'm sure your mother and father are blaming themselves for coming here. I know my husband is hating himself for giving Jodie such a hard time over the Halloween story. Maybe poor little Dan is sobbing that it's all his fault for being scared. I'm sure half the school are feeling bad because they made the poor girl's life a misery. I'm sure Jed
should
feel bad, but I don't have a clue what he's thinking.

‘I know what
I
'm thinking though. I feel terrible because I should have guessed you girls were going up to the tower room, and I above all know how dangerous it is. But listen, Pearl, listen hard. Terrible things happen by
chance
. We don't make them happen. The worst thing in the world has happened to you and you'll never properly get over it and never stop missing Jodie – but don't let it wreck your life the way mine is wrecked. You owe it to Jodie to live a life for her as well as for yourself. She'll still be there with you, in your head. You know that, don't you?'

‘I know she will.'

‘You'll remember everything about her always.'

‘Yes, always.'

‘I know you must hate Melchester now – but perhaps you could write to me once or twice, just to let me know how you're getting on?'

‘Yes, I will. I want to do that. I'm going to write and write, I promise.'

I've kept my promise. I write to Mrs Wilberforce every month and tell her what I'm doing. I write to Harley and Harriet too. I even write big illustrated story letters to Dan and Sakura and Zeph. I need to write to them so they all remember Jodie.

Most importantly, I write to you, my special baby sister. I've written our whole story in this beautiful manuscript book from Mrs Wilberforce. I tore out the first few pages of my journal and started telling our story properly. It's your story too, little May.

It was such a shock when I found out about you.

I was crying the night of the funeral, lying there in bed, desperate for Jodie herself to come sliding into my bed to comfort me. Mum and Dad came into my room after a while. They were in their nightclothes but hadn't gone to bed themselves. None of us had slept much since Jodie's fall.

Mum sat on one side of my bed, Dad the other. They found my clenched fists in the dark and each held a hand. For a little while we all cried, and then Dad gently mopped my face with his big hankie.

‘There now, our Pearl,' he murmured huskily.

‘Oh Dad, I can't bear it,' I sobbed. ‘I want Jodie so.'

‘I know, pet, I know.'

‘If only I hadn't nagged her so,' Mum whispered. ‘I just wanted her to do well, that's all. I loved her dearly, even though I didn't show it. Do you think she knew that, Pearl?'

‘Yes, Mum.' I tried to think of something else to say to comfort her but I couldn't find the right words. I was hurting too much.

I buried my head in my pillow. ‘I want Jodie
back
,' I said. ‘I want my
sister
.'

‘She can't come back to us, Pearl,' said Dad, ‘but – but maybe this is the best time to tell you. You're going to have another sister.'

‘What?'

‘Or a brother. Whatever. I'm going to have a baby,' Mum said, sniffing.

‘
You're
going to have a baby?'

I could barely take it in. So it was
Mum
's pregnancy test! Jodie and I had never suspected a thing.

‘I – I didn't know you wanted another baby,' I mumbled.

‘Well, it came as a surprise. It wasn't planned at all. I thought I might lose the baby, what with the shock of our poor Jodie, but everything still seems OK,' said Mum.

I could feel the soft weight of her as she sat beside me. I could make out the shape of her rounded tummy in the gloom. You were inside there, curled up, tiny as a tadpole, swimming in the dark.

‘What do you think, Pearl?' said Dad. ‘Are you pleased?'

I didn't know what I thought. I didn't want a new baby sister then – I wanted my own big sister Jodie. She was all I could think of. Sometimes she's all I can think of now, a year later.

Melchester seems like a dark dream. I still have nightmares about it. I'm running down endless corridors after Jodie, in and out of attic rooms, up and up and up those spiral stairs, and there she is, at the window of the tower room. I run to her, screaming her name, but she's falling before I can grab her, down and down and down. I fall after her
but I always wake up before I hit the ground too.

We'll never go back, Mum and Dad and me. We couldn't bear to see that tower ever again. We live in London now, in a large block of flats. We live rent-free because Dad is the caretaker and odd-job man for the whole estate. Mum doesn't work yet. She's still too tired and anxious and haunted by the past, plus she's kept busy looking after you. We have the garden flat, so we can wheel you out onto the small strip of grass. You've had such a happy first summer, lying on your mat, kicking your little wrinkled heels in the sunshine.

You were born in May so that's what we've called you. Our little May. I sometimes call you Queen of the May and dress you up in your long white christening frock and string garlands of daisies round your neck.