Secret Friends Page 4

  Dr Randall smiled for the first time.

  ‘No, he’s not dead, Anna. That was only an incubator. It’s a special box for babies that need extra warmth and attention. He’s not going to die. But …’

  Now it was his turn to stop and look at Dad, and this time Dad was great. He just put his hands on my shoulders.

  ‘Your brother’s not quite right,’ he said. ‘Dr Randall thinks he may be disabled. We won’t be able to tell yet, for a week or two, but it doesn’t look …’ and then the worst possible thing happened. Dad actually cried. He didn’t sob or anything. He just crumpled up a bit. That set me off, of course. I’ve never been able not to cry if someone else is. It’s infectious, like giggling, or yawning or something. And then Mum started, and we were all crying, and I felt really sad, but one horrible part of me was looking on from outside, and thinking,

  ‘Well, well. Fancy Mum and Dad and me all crying together over a serious family matter, and Katy still being asleep. That makes me feel really one of them.’

  I still couldn’t imagine the baby. I knew with my brain that it was sad, him being disabled, but I couldn’t really feel it, if you know what I mean.

  It’s funny how you feel when you stop crying, if you’ve been crying with someone else. It’s embarrassing of course, but quite comfortable too, in a way. You feel loving, and close together, and empty, too.

  After a bit, I began to think awful thoughts. What did disabled mean? Would he look funny? Would his legs and arms jerk a lot? Somehow, because we’d all been crying together, I felt especially daring, so I came right out with it to Dr Randall.

  ‘What do you mean, disabled?’ I said.

  Dr Randall shook his head.

  ‘I was just telling your parents, Anna,’ he said. ‘We don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘Yes, but will he be blind, or deaf?’ I asked.

  Mum and Dad were sitting in a specially still kind of way, and I knew they were dying for the answer too. Dr Randall looked more cheerful.

  ‘Oh no, I’m sure he’ll be able to see and hear all right,’ he said.

  ‘Will he look nice, or will he look funny, and dribble and all that?’ I asked. It sounds awful, but I cared about that more than anything.

  ‘I don’t know, Anna,’ Dr Randall said. ‘I honestly don’t know. But all babies are very sweet, you know, even when they’re …’ he stopped.

  ‘Can’t you even tell us,’ I said, ‘if he’ll be able to play, and go to school, and talk, and laugh, and everything?’

  The cheerful look wiped itself off Dr Randall’s face.

  ‘He’ll be able to laugh,’ he said slowly. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure he’ll laugh. But for the rest, let’s wait and see, shall we? I think we all need some sleep now.’ He patted Mum’s hand.

  ‘You should try to rest,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’re very tired. You’ve done well to manage a home delivery with a birth of this kind. Quite unusual, in fact. I’ve given you a good strong dose. Make the most of it. You can phone the hospital any time, but there won’t be any news until tomorrow morning. The nurse will be here to sort you out at breakfast time. And try not to worry. He’s quite stable, you know. There’s no danger.’

  He picked up his bag and clicked it shut. He seemed suddenly in a hurry to go. The strain, I suppose. Mum always says that emotional upsets are more exhausting than anything else. Still, he didn’t have much to upset him. It wasn’t his baby that wasn’t going to run about. All in the day’s work for him, I should think.

  He’d only been gone half a minute when he poked his head round the door again.

  ‘There seems to be rather a lot of steam coming out of the kitchen,’ he said.

  Steam! Boiling water! Of course! I’d left the four burners on full blast. I jumped up like a startled rabbit, and squeezed past Dr Randall and was in the kitchen in a flash. There was so much steam I could hardly see the cooker. Fortunately, none of the saucepans had boiled dry, but the walls were streaming with water. I felt such a fool. I was afraid they’d laugh at me. Dr Randall had never even mentioned needing any boiling water. I decided I’d try to empty all the saucepans, and clear up quickly before Dad came down and saw, and then I could say that in my excitement I’d left the kettle on. But it was too late. Dad came into the kitchen right behind me.

  ‘Very sensible, Spanner,’ he said, in a matter of fact voice. He’s always calling me silly names that rhyme with ‘Anna’. It drives me crazy sometimes, especially if he forgets and does it in front of other people. It sounds so weird. But he won’t stop. He just laughs, and says, ‘You know what they say, “A loved child has many names,” so you be grateful, Gloriana.’

  I was relieved, anyway, that he didn’t laugh.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I know boiling water is the right thing to do when a baby’s born, but quite honestly, I don’t know what it’s for.’

  Dad didn’t seem very sure either.

  ‘Oh, sterilizing instruments or something, I suppose,’ he said vaguely. ‘Anyway, we’d better go to bed now. There’s not much of tonight left.’

  But I didn’t feel tired at all. Not yet, anyway. I knew I’d feel awful the next day. But just now there were too many things I wanted to know.

  ‘Does it always hurt that bad?’ I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to ask Dad that, but I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Does what hurt?’ he said. I excused him for being so thick and insensitive on the grounds that he was an ignorant male and didn’t know any better.

  ‘Having a baby, of course,’ I said. ‘Mum’s face, and then the way she screamed …’

  ‘You’ll have to ask her,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t know, would I? But Mum seems to think it’s worth it. It’s how you and Kate were born, after all.’

  ‘And now you’ve got a son, too,’ I said, and then I wished I hadn’t said it, because Dad looked very sad.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And now I’ve got a son. Come on Susanna. It’s bedtime.’

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Elizabeth Laird is the author of dozens of much-loved children’s books, including The Garbage King, The Fastest Boy in the World, Oranges in No Man’s Land and the UKLA award-winning Welcome to Nowhere. She has been shortlisted for the prestigious CILIP Carnegie Medal six times.

  Elizabeth has lived in different countries in the Middle East and Africa and now lives in Britain, but she still likes to travel as much as she can.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Alleanna Harris is a US illustrator who has been drawing for as long as she can remember. Alleanna finds inspiration in the beauty of everyday things. She lives in New Jersey.

  Forced to flee his home in Syria, Omar and his family face the dangers of civil war. A moving story of conflict and hope, winner of the UKLA Book Award.

  A powerful story about the importance of ocean conservation and looking after your environment from the award-winning author, Elizabeth Laird.

  Books by Elizabeth Laird published

  by Macmillan Children’s Books

  A House Without Walls

  Welcome to Nowhere

  Secret Friends

  Song of the Dolphin Boy

  Dindy and the Elephant

  The Fastest Boy in the World

  The Prince Who Walked with Lions

  The Witching Hour

  Lost Riders

  Crusade

  Oranges in No Man’s Land

  Paradise End

  Secrets of the Fearless

  A Little Piece of Ground

  The Garbage King

  Jake’s Tower

  Red Sky in the Morning

  Kiss the Dust

  First published 1996 by Hodder Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2019 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan

  The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 9NR

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

&nbs
p; ISBN 978-1-5290-1541-6

  Text copyright © Elizabeth Laird 2019

  Illustrations copyright © Alleanna Harris 2019

  The right of Elizabeth Laird and Alleanna Harris to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third-party websites referred to in or on this book.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you're always first to hear about our new releases.