A Pocketful of Stars. Aisha Bushby

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      The next day we’re at the hospital I was born in. We couldn’t see Mum last night because the doctors were busy operating on her brain. For some reason, when I imagine it happening, all I can think of is that old-school game, Operation, where you have to remove different body parts without setting off the buzzer.

      They called Dad this morning to let him know how it went, and to say that we would be able to visit Mum in the afternoon. So, I guess, the buzzer never went off. It’s not GAME OVER.

      ‘She’s in the intensive care unit,’ Dad explains, leading the way.

      We follow the yellow line on the wall like Dorothy and the Scarecrow on their way to Oz. Except, instead of the Wizard, we’re going to see Mum.

      My mouth is all dry and I feel sick. It doesn’t help that everything smells like antiseptic.

      Still, we walk and walk and walk, until we turn a corner where a reception desk sits in the semi-darkness, surrounded by rooms.

      ‘James and Safiya Fisher to see Aminah Al-Adwani,’ Dad says.

      Aminah. I forget that’s her name sometimes. I’m so used to her being Mum.

      ‘Are you a relation?’ the nurse asks. I look down at his badge and read the name Edward Hussein.

      ‘I’m her ex-husband, but I’m still her emergency contact. I was, uh, I was here yesterday.’

      Edward nods at Dad before turning to me, a sad smile on his face. ‘And you must be her daughter?’

      I swallow, and it’s like a great big stone is sliding down my throat landing, thud, in my chest. I can feel it right next to my heart.

      ‘If you could both take a seat, I’ll call you when she’s ready,’ he says, like Mum’s just in a meeting.

      I don’t want to speak, so I play on my phone to distract myself.

      Elle messages me just as I’m feeding my pets on this new app I downloaded. Lady, our Cavalier King Charles spaniel, would be horrified if she knew about my virtual cat. She gets jealous pretty easily. Once I had to look after our class hamster for the weekend, and I swear Lady wouldn’t look me in the eye for days after.

      Elle: Hope you’re OK xxxxxx

      Safiya: Going to see her in a minute. I’m scared. Xxxx

      Elle’s message makes it all real again, and suddenly I can’t play the game any more.

      In the next room there’s an old man lying in one of the hospital beds alone. He stares at the same spot on the ceiling for ages, and all I can think about is how no one is there to see him. And then I think about how I wasn’t there to see Mum yesterday at her flat, before she was called into hospital – all because of our argument.

      ‘That’s so silly, Safiya,’ Mum had said when I explained that I didn’t want to join the local theatre group. ‘Gaming isn’t a hobby . . . Hobbies require you to leave the comfort of your own room.’ She laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. ‘I would understand all this if you were a bit younger, but you’re in Year Eight now.’

      ‘James? Safiya?’ Edward calls for us. I jump, but I don’t stand. I can’t. For a moment my body doesn’t respond to my brain.

      I turn to Dad, who is about to stand up.

      I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Is it OK if I go alone?’

      I’ve been so used to it just being Mum and me, without Dad, that it would be weird to be the three of us again.

      Dad frowns at me for a moment, and I think he’s going to say no, but then his face softens and he squeezes me back. I turn round, take a deep breath, and follow Edward.

      He leads me to the entrance and uses a special key card to open the doors. Then he gives me some quick instructions: walk straight to the end and turn right.

      It makes me think of Peter Pan and how they all get to Neverland. ‘Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.’

      Except, instead of going to Neverland, I’m going to see Mum.

      ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Edward asks.

      I shake my head. Adults can’t go to Neverland.

      I walk through and it’s like everything is happening in slow motion.

      Doctors and nurses walk past me, barely glancing in my direction. I turn back and see Dad’s face as the doors close behind me. He gives me a small smile, which makes me feel a little bit stronger.

       I rolled my eyes. ‘I knew you would say this,’ I countered. ‘Because you just don’t get it, do you?’

       Mum crossed her arms. ‘Grow up, Safiya,’ she said. ‘You aren’t some mystery to me, you know. I know what it’s like to be your age. When I was younger I –’

      I didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead it was my turn to laugh. ‘Were you ever my age?’ I said. ‘Sometimes I just imagine you were always old with your boring job and your boring life.’

       That stopped Mum in her tracks. Then she started again, and suddenly she was a moving train, picking up momentum.

       ‘You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get this job. I left home when I wasn’t much older than you, studied hard . . .’

       What else did she say? I can’t remember, because I wasn’t listening.

      The walk along the hospital corridor takes a million years. I have to remind myself how to move my feet.

      Left. Right. Left. Right.

      I pause at the halfway point. I can see Mum’s room now at the end. Sometimes, when I play an especially scary game, I save it just before something really bad happens, and do something else for a while, until I СКАЧАТЬ