TUESDAY 23RD AUGUST – EVENING
I CAN’T SLEEP – I’m still so excited.
I’ve been performing today for judges who were assessing our dance teacher, Amanda Chard. So not a huge audience although friends and family came. Harry Manson, my dance partner, and I had worked hard on it for most of the summer. To finally dance it was fantastic – a real adrenaline rush. I felt fully alive and buzzing with excitement. For once I was somebody – not a looked after child, but a performer, a dancer. I now know that whatever happens in my life, I want to be a dancer. Somehow.
I must dance, even if I have the neurofibromatosis, like my dad had.
I’m not going to think about that terrible disease and how it affected him. All my mum has said is that he hated having his photo taken because his face was misshapen and ugly. He couldn’t walk straight and he had tumours. And I know that we have the same initials, even though my surname’s Jennings, like my mum, and his was Josephs. I need to know so much more about him. I don’t even know why he died when I was a baby. Maybe it was the disease or something else. But I can’t find all this out here, while I’m staying with Cass. I can’t even think about it now.
I’m here because it’s the first day of Susie’s and little Sam’s holiday – I already miss Susie, she’s the best foster carer I’ve known. Probably I miss her as much as I would if she were my mum. No, more than that. I don’t really miss my mum – when I lived at home I was terrified of her and the boyfriends she had. I never felt safe. That’s why I came into care.
I could have gone on holiday with Susie, but I’m glad I said ‘No’ when she booked it. If I’d been travelling, I wouldn’t have been able to perform today.
Staying at Cass’ house feels very odd. I’ve only been here for one night before. I know about some of the routines and that Cass takes ages in the bathroom in the morning. That’s when she does her make-up to cover her scars. And see to her eye, I expect. Last time I stayed over she wore an eye patch to bed so I haven’t seen it lately. Even close friends like us have boundaries, I suppose.
This time, I’ve been put in the guest bedroom, which is massive with great big sweeping curtains. It even has an ensuite shower. I don’t like it. All the rooms are much smaller at Susie’s. I would prefer to be in with Cass, but I suppose this is for a whole week. Maybe Cass’ mum thought we’d both better have more space. Note to self: remember to call Cass’ mum ‘Marion’.
I keep yawning – I’m so exhausted from the dancing. Plus, afterwards with everyone congratulating me – especially Jock! I hadn’t expected him to be there, but he took time off from his holiday job just to watch me! Best boyfriend ever – as soon as I spotted him after the dancing, my heart started to flutter. I saw his floppy, wavy hair first – he hadn’t seen me, so I watched him before going to him. As usual, he looked neatly dressed even in his jeans, and he stood tall. But he looked worried. I went and put my hand on his back and whispered, ‘What’s the matter?’ It turned out he felt uncomfortable about me dancing with Harry! I’m not surprised; after all, one of the dances was called Romance. But then I introduced him to Harry and Harry introduced us to his girlfriend, so there was no problem.
I was almost dancing with joy when I spotted my nan and pop were there too. It’s odd to think that I only met them a few weeks ago. Even in July I had no idea my father’s parents had moved back from living in Canada and wanted to meet up with me.
There wasn’t much time to talk, though, because we were all ushered out of the hall, which was needed for something else. Amanda thanked me for dancing so well and asked me if I’d be happy to help her with the days she was running for pre-schoolers. I just had time to say ‘Yes’ when Marion said we needed to go, so I quickly said my goodbyes and followed her and Cass out to the car.
Now I’ve got to concentrate on preparing two of the dances again for the Cambridge Art Festival. This is HUGE! There will be a massive audience, and we’ve less than two weeks to go through the pieces. And for one of those weeks, I’m here with Cass. If Amanda does try to arrange something this week, I hope Marion will take me to any rehearsals not in Ely.
I was lying on the bed thinking about this when Marion called us for supper. This is a main meal here and even though I felt too tired to be bothered, I forced myself downstairs.
‘I’m sorry, Marion, I don’t have much appetite – I’m too worn out.’
‘Don’t worry, Emma, eat what you can.’
The funny thing is that, once I began eating, I was really into it. Marion is a great cook, and she’d baked a shepherds’ pie which was delicious and very easy to eat. And she’d made her profiteroles, which I love, for dessert.
I started clearing the bowls up afterwards, but Marion stopped me. ‘You two go and watch television or do something quiet. Emma needs some rest after that outstanding performance.’
I did. I fell asleep after about 10 minutes and had to be woken up to get to bed. This is why I am awake now, while the house is quiet, tapping away on my phone. I need my laptop here, unless I can use Cass’ for my journal. I forgot to bring mine – I had it ready in its bag, hanging from the coat rack. Susie had already put my case in the car and all I took out of the house was my dance bag – I was totally focused on the performance.
But now I can concentrate on other things in my life.
GCSE results the day after tomorrow. Hope I’ve done OK.
I’ve got so much on my mind. I could do with a chat with Jen, my social worker.
WEDNESDAY 24TH AUGUST
TODAY, I plucked up courage to send an email asking if there were spaces on the BTEC Performing Arts Diploma at college. I explained that I already had a place on the Child Development course but wasn’t sure I wanted it. That’s all I said.
By lunchtime I had a reply that there may be places not taken up after results were out and to contact them immediately I had mine. They wanted a fuller request and reasons why the course would be for me. It looked very impersonal.
‘They probably say that to everyone,’ I said to Cass.
‘It doesn’t matter – at least you’ve shown you’re interested. They’ll know who you are when you apply tomorrow.’
‘If I apply tomorrow.’
‘You will! Dancing is your superpower! You have to use it.’
I didn’t argue but I thought about my father battling tumours on his nerves. I tried to shake off the cold feeling of fear that I might have inherited the awful disease. I wish he was still alive and that I could ask him about it all. And give him a hug. I felt tears in my eyes so turned away pretending to straighten the expensive cushions on Cass’ sofa. I didn’t fool Cass.
‘Come on, Em, stop brooding about things. Be positive. Let’s go charity shopping and bag some bargains.’
We did go shopping. Only here in Ely. Neither of us had much money but we mooched around and bought a few silly things from the charity shops. I found a small (possibly silver?) ring from a £1 basket for me and a thank you card to write for Marion when I leave next week. Not like me to buy something in advance, so I felt quite organised. Cass bought a rather classy cream mug with a heart on it from the cathedral gift shop. I thought it highly likely that it would be a present for Rob, her boyfriend, to take to college in the autumn. I asked but she didn’t answer – just blushed.
We went back and Marion had made chicken tikka and brie and cranberry sandwiches for lunch. While we were munching them, she said that both our boyfriends could come round this evening after supper. That felt strange, to meet Jock in Cass’ house but, while I was thinking about it, Cass sent them each a message, so it’s done. Our boyfriends are totally different – they are both the same sort of age but Jock is more practical. He will be starting an apprenticeship in September and Rob is studying for a music degree. They both have a sense of humour, so we always have fun together.
But what I wanted to do was see Nan and Pop. With my mum having finally agreed I could see them, I wanted to get on with it and ask them all the questions I could about my dad and why he died. I think that might be easier than asking my mum. I wish I’d known my grandparents when I’d been growing up, then all the news about my dad and the disease he had would have been learned gradually. Not in one great big lump.
I couldn’t work out what Jock would think, meeting me here, anyway. I didn’t know if he’d want to come. It’s only happened once before when it was Cass’ birthday. I wouldn’t be able to talk to him about what happened last Sunday when I went to Cass’ church. I’ll tell him another time when the others aren’t around.
Marion saved me worrying about what we were doing. She popped her head round the door and asked Cass, ‘What are you planning for this evening?’
‘Oh, I thought we’d watch a film or something. What do you want to do, Em?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t had Jock round in the evening.’ That wasn’t strictly true – I hadn’t invited him, though. He’d come round for part of an evening at Susie’s and read little Sam a story, then I’d carried Sam to bed when he fell asleep. And he did eat supper with us one day. But we didn’t watch a film or TV or anything.
Cass was looking thoughtful. ‘I’ve got games we can play, like Cluedo.’
‘What’s Cluedo?’
There’s all sorts of things I don’t know about – I don’t think I’ve ever been with a foster family that played games. I didn’t even know if it was a board game or something like charades, where you act things out. When Cass and her mum explained about the murder weapons, the posh house and clues, I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of it.
Cass sighed. ‘You loved solving a mystery at my birthday party.’ So that’s why I agreed. I hoped Jock wouldn’t be too put out. He’s not really a games person.
But when Jock and Rob came, we laughed so much playing the game that I really enjoyed it. It was like a murder mystery game where you all dress up, but we used a board with lots of rooms on it. Jock didn’t want to play at first because he thought he’d have to act out his character. When Cass explained there was no acting involved, only using your brain to work it out, he joined in and enjoyed it. He won, in fact.
And we ate crisps and bits and pieces that Marion had cooked – including chocolate cookies, flapjacks and her brilliant profiteroles, of course!
In fact, the evening was pretty good and I stopped thinking about my dad and grandparents for a bit. I loved being with Jock – but I didn’t think I was a very good girlfriend. I knew I wasn’t very good at cuddling and hugging, too many bad things happened to me in my past. Plus, I had so much to think about and I felt torn in lots of different directions.
As soon as they left, I phoned my nan and pop. It wasn’t much of a phone call. They gushed about how good my dancing had been and said they were proud of me. That seemed strange; I hardly know them, yet they feel proud of me? How does that work?
I wanted to ask them things about Dad, but I found it almost impossible to break into all the excitement about the fact that I’d phoned them and that I’d done well in the dance. I went quiet and Nan said, ‘It’s your results tomorrow, isn’t it? We both hope you’ve done very well.’ I mumbled a thanks and said I’d better go.
So now I’m lying awake in a strange bed, worrying about my results as well as whether my dad died from the disease I might carry. Maybe it was something else. I don’t even know if someone with neurofibromatosis is more likely to catch other deadly diseases. And I don’t want to know. But I sort of do, all at the same time.
I meant to tell my social worker that I don’t want any testing to see if I’m a carrier, but I haven’t got round to it today. I must tell her soon or she’ll have booked the appointment. And I feel sorry for Nan and Pop because they had two babies with it. That must be horrible for them. I ought to tell Jen I don’t want to meet my uncle yet, either.
Perhaps I shouldn’t try to sort everything out at once but make a shorter plan. I think a psychologist said that to me once when I was having panic attacks. Can’t remember her name.
Oh no, even this short list seemed to have too many things on it. But with the results tomorrow, I might not be able to do any sorting out except perhaps college. I was so hoping and praying that I had at least done well at dance.
I was thinking: ‘By this time tomorrow, will I be studying acting, dance and musical theatre on the Performing Arts Diploma, or still doing child development? Or will I be no good for either course and scrabbling around trying to find somewhere that will accept me?’
I knew I had to be a full-time student somewhere, or my placement might have to change. I wanted to stay where I was with Susie as my foster parent – I didn’t feel anything like ready to start to look after myself, even in supported care.
