Dear Nobody by Berlie Doherty

nodding and sucking vinegar off her chips and not heard a word of it. Perhaps I should have said it. At least I would have given a voice to my nightmare. But I didn’t. Grandad had gone out to see a film by the time. I left, and I caught a bus home, feeling wretched, feeling sick with worry. There was no one I could talk to.
    So today I went to the Family Planning Clinic.
    I thought I would ask Ruthlyn to go with me but in the end I didn’t. I just can’t bring myself to tell her. You imagine you’ll tell your best friend when something like this happens to you but when it comes to it you can’t.You can’t tell anyone. She guesses, I’m sure she does, but she’s too discreet to ask me outright and I’m too ashamed and nervous to tell her.
    So I went to the Family Planning Clinic on my own and as soon as I went into the reception room and saw all those young women sitting there, most of them smoking, most of them looking fed up and tired and lonely, I knew I couldn’t stay. I felt desperate inside.
    I pretended I was looking for someone who wasn’t there and then I just walked out and caught the bus home.
    I’m so frightened. I feel as if I’m walking through a wilderness. There’s nothing to hold on to.
    Go away. Please go away.

    Dear Joan,
    I’m just having a breather after a session at the climbing wall at the Poly. I haven’t got any of the proper gear yet but when I’m a student (next year, I’m going to Newcastle University to do an English degree, did I tell you?) I think I’ll be able to borrow ropes and a helmet and stuff there. You must tell me about some of your expeditions some time. I could do with some tips. It’s a wonderful hobby, isn’t it? I’ve only just started so I can’t call it a hobby yet (in fact I haven’t quite got to the top of the wall yet but I can see how to do it. I twisted my ankle a bit because I came down a bit fast, but when it’s better I think I’ll get to the top easily). I think climbing must be in my blood. Did you climb in Derbyshire when you lived down here? I expect you climb in the Lake District now, or Scotland. Maybe I’ll come up there to do some when Fm more experienced and you could show me the ropes! Joking apart, I would like to pop in to see you some time.
    Your son ,
    Christopher
    I had to wait round for hours at the climbing wall while Tom shinned up and down the thing, bragging at the top of his voice. My ankle was hurting and my fingers were sore, andmy knees felt like balloons. I wrote a letter to my mother. I felt it had just the right tone, not pretending I was an expert climber yet, but showing her that we have got something in common and opening things out for her to write back to me. I put it back in my school bag and waited for Tom to come off the wall.
    â€˜You all right?’ he shouted at me when he’d finished at last. Of course everybody had to look at me.
    â€˜Course,’ I said. ‘It was great, that. Classic.’
    â€˜You didn’t stay on long.’
    â€˜I remembered I had an important letter to write.’
    He grinned. Old Tom. He thinks he’s the handsomest devil alive but you should see his teeth when he grins.
    â€˜Coming for a jar?’ he asked me.
    â€˜Just one,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a timed essay to do tonight.’
    â€˜Haven’t we all,’ said Tom. ‘ “Hamlet could do with a pint of Heineken. Discuss.” ’
    I hobbled after him to the pub and sat with my head down and my hands clasping the glass on my knees as if I was trying to heat the stuff up. The noise of the place swirled round me. I felt as if I was drowning in it. I wanted to think about Helen. What was she doing now? What was happening to her? Those angry-eyed birds glared down at me, peering from the shadows. I wanted to go home.
    â€˜I wish you’d shut up,’ Tom said. ‘I can’t get a word