me for a moment. It never ceased to amaze me how Rose could just skip from one subject to the next in the blink of an eye.
'Only up and down this road and only on the pavement and watch out for pedestrians – that means people walking.'
'Yes, Mum. I know.' Rose spun round to get her safety helmet from the cupboard under the stairs. And there stood Meggie in the doorway, listening to every word I'd said about her son.
thirteen. Rose is 8½
Nana Meggie was staring at Mummy and she had a very peculiar look on her face. And Mummy was looking straight back at Nana Meggie with a different kind of peculiar look. It was kind of the way I look when Jinn in my class takes my pencil without asking and then won't give it back.
'What's wrong, Nana Meggie?' I asked.
'Nothing, pet.' Nana Meggie's frowny, stern look sagged into a smile.
'I'm off to ride my bike,' I told her.
'Be careful,' said Nana.
'Yes, I know,' I interrupted. 'Mum's already told me.'
I ran out of the room before Nana Meggie could say all the same things about watching out for cars and people that Mum had already said. Grown-ups like to say the same things over and over. Maybe they all go to a secret grown-up school and get taught to say the same things and act the same way. I ran to get my helmet and then skipped back into the kitchen. Mum was still scrubbing the saucepan, which had to be the cleanest one in the street by now. Nana Meggie had the fridge door open and was searching for something to munch, I guess. I skipped out into the garden. My bike was leaning against the wall underneath the kitchen window. I bent down to check the tyres the way Mum had taught me. I squeezed each tyre like I meant business. They were firm and not squishy like brown bananas. I loved to ride up and down our road. Sometimes I rode so fast, it felt like the wind was jealous and trying to blow me off my bike – but it never did. When Mum took the stabilizers off my bike, she used to run behind me, holding onto the saddle to stop my bike from toppling over. And then sometimes she'd let go and she wouldn't tell me. But I only ever fell off once – and I didn't cry, even though I wanted to 'cause my elbow was really hurting. Mum dusted me off and kissed my forehead and told me I was a brave girl for not crying. So I swallowed down my tears and didn't let a single one escape. Not even one.
'When are you going to tell Callie the truth?' Nana Meggie's voice drifted through the open kitchen window.
'I did,' said Mum.
'My son's death wasn't an accident,' said Nana Meggie.
'No? He was born a Nought in a Cross world. You can't get much more accidental than that.'
'Isn't that just . . . what's the word – sophistry?' There was a pause before Meggie added, 'Don't look so surprised. I might not have had as much schooling as you, but I do read and I'm not stupid.'
'Meggie, I never said you were stupid. And what should I have told Rose?' asked Mum. 'She's too young to hear all the sorry details.'
'You won't let me do it, so when d'you plan to tell her the truth?'
'When she's ready. In the meantime what harm does it do to let her believe her dad lived like a saint and died like a martyr?'
'I think—
'I already know exactly what you think,' Mum interrupted. 'But you don't want to fight me on this, Meggie. Not this.'
I didn't know what those words meant. What was a 'marter'? And what was 'sofis' . . . 'soap-is' . . . whatever the word was that Nana Meggie said? Why was Nana Meggie so cross with Mum? Maybe she thought Mum shouldn't talk to me about my dad. And Mum's voice was hard like the frost we get on the car windscreen in the winter.
'I'll tell Callie Rose all about her dad when she's old enough to know the whole truth,' said Mum.
'You'd better tell her before someone else does,' said Meggie.
'Is that a threat?'
'No, of course not. But don't you think it would be better coming from you?'
'I said, when she's old enough – or are you going to criticize me over that as
'Only up and down this road and only on the pavement and watch out for pedestrians – that means people walking.'
'Yes, Mum. I know.' Rose spun round to get her safety helmet from the cupboard under the stairs. And there stood Meggie in the doorway, listening to every word I'd said about her son.
thirteen. Rose is 8½
Nana Meggie was staring at Mummy and she had a very peculiar look on her face. And Mummy was looking straight back at Nana Meggie with a different kind of peculiar look. It was kind of the way I look when Jinn in my class takes my pencil without asking and then won't give it back.
'What's wrong, Nana Meggie?' I asked.
'Nothing, pet.' Nana Meggie's frowny, stern look sagged into a smile.
'I'm off to ride my bike,' I told her.
'Be careful,' said Nana.
'Yes, I know,' I interrupted. 'Mum's already told me.'
I ran out of the room before Nana Meggie could say all the same things about watching out for cars and people that Mum had already said. Grown-ups like to say the same things over and over. Maybe they all go to a secret grown-up school and get taught to say the same things and act the same way. I ran to get my helmet and then skipped back into the kitchen. Mum was still scrubbing the saucepan, which had to be the cleanest one in the street by now. Nana Meggie had the fridge door open and was searching for something to munch, I guess. I skipped out into the garden. My bike was leaning against the wall underneath the kitchen window. I bent down to check the tyres the way Mum had taught me. I squeezed each tyre like I meant business. They were firm and not squishy like brown bananas. I loved to ride up and down our road. Sometimes I rode so fast, it felt like the wind was jealous and trying to blow me off my bike – but it never did. When Mum took the stabilizers off my bike, she used to run behind me, holding onto the saddle to stop my bike from toppling over. And then sometimes she'd let go and she wouldn't tell me. But I only ever fell off once – and I didn't cry, even though I wanted to 'cause my elbow was really hurting. Mum dusted me off and kissed my forehead and told me I was a brave girl for not crying. So I swallowed down my tears and didn't let a single one escape. Not even one.
'When are you going to tell Callie the truth?' Nana Meggie's voice drifted through the open kitchen window.
'I did,' said Mum.
'My son's death wasn't an accident,' said Nana Meggie.
'No? He was born a Nought in a Cross world. You can't get much more accidental than that.'
'Isn't that just . . . what's the word – sophistry?' There was a pause before Meggie added, 'Don't look so surprised. I might not have had as much schooling as you, but I do read and I'm not stupid.'
'Meggie, I never said you were stupid. And what should I have told Rose?' asked Mum. 'She's too young to hear all the sorry details.'
'You won't let me do it, so when d'you plan to tell her the truth?'
'When she's ready. In the meantime what harm does it do to let her believe her dad lived like a saint and died like a martyr?'
'I think—
'I already know exactly what you think,' Mum interrupted. 'But you don't want to fight me on this, Meggie. Not this.'
I didn't know what those words meant. What was a 'marter'? And what was 'sofis' . . . 'soap-is' . . . whatever the word was that Nana Meggie said? Why was Nana Meggie so cross with Mum? Maybe she thought Mum shouldn't talk to me about my dad. And Mum's voice was hard like the frost we get on the car windscreen in the winter.
'I'll tell Callie Rose all about her dad when she's old enough to know the whole truth,' said Mum.
'You'd better tell her before someone else does,' said Meggie.
'Is that a threat?'
'No, of course not. But don't you think it would be better coming from you?'
'I said, when she's old enough – or are you going to criticize me over that as
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