Page 26 of Statistically Speaking
“Ian,” she says, smiling slightly. “He was only fifty-two. Fit as a fiddle, he was, even though I’ve never quite understood why fiddles are considered so fit. Pancreatic cancer. Bit of a bastard, that. It was hard for all of us, but I think we were most concerned about Katie. She was only just sixteen when he was first diagnosed, and it was so tough seeing him fight and fight and go through everything he went through, and the way he ended up...”
“She told me you both needed a fresh start.”
“Yes. We did. We never want to forget him, but we want to remember him the way he was for most of his life, not that last part—and moving away was part of it all, really. I think—I hope—it was the right thing for her. She said she wanted to, was ready for a change, but I always worry whether she agreed for my benefit. Whether I thought I was doing it for her sake and she thought she was doing it for mine, you know?”
“I know,” I reply quietly. “But would that be so awful? I think it sounds really sweet, actually.”
She laughs and swipes away a tear.
“Maybe you’re right—that’s a good way of looking at it! Anyway, enough of the doom and gloom. I’ve totally wrecked the food, which is par for the course. I’ll get us a takeaway instead. It’s for the best, believe me. I’ll just get Katie downstairs. She’s in her room playing games with her headphones on, I’m sure, but luckily it’s that time of the month, so it’ll be easy to attract her attention.”
“That time of the month?” I echo, uncertain.
Erin winks at me and walks over to a plug in the corner of the room. “That time of the month when she’s run out of data and needs the Wi-Fi to survive.”
She flicks the switch off and stands frozen, one ear cocked toward the door.
“Any minute now...”
Sure enough, right on cue, I hear the sound of feet thundering down the stairs so fast it seems inevitable that it will end with a thud. It does, as Katie presumably jumps down the last couple of steps.
She bursts into the room, wailing, “Muuuuuuuum! The Wi-Fi’s down again!”
Erin has, by this stage, moved away from the wall and is the picture of innocence.
“Oh no!” she says, sounding genuinely upset. “I’d better phone them, see if there’s a problem in the area—but while you’re here, do you fancy nipping out to collect a takeaway for us?”
“Have you performed your usual culinary miracles in the kitchen, then?” she says, hands on hips, her gaze finally finding me on the sofa.
“Oh! Hello, miss. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Katie. Why?”
“Well, you’re holding the Wonky Cushion. Weird, you’ve got exactly the same shade of hair as me. People always want us to wear green, don’t they? But looking at you and looking at that cushion, I’d have to say it hurts my eyes.”
I give the cushion a last squeeze and set it aside. I am feeling less wonky. I am feeling the same flush of energy and light that I always get when I am in the same room as this young woman. This young woman who does, indeed, have exactly the same shade of hair as I have.
“Not to worry. I was just a bit tired after a hard day shaping young minds.”
She makes ahumphsound and turns to Erin. “Right then, Mother dearest. Chinese, Indian, kebab, chippy?”
There is some debate between the two of them, some lack of opinion offered by me, and then Katie is finally dispatched with a cash card, a reminder of her mum’s PIN (which I will, of course, now always remember), and instructions not to “get abducted by aliens on the way.”
As she leaves, the door slamming behind her, the house feels suddenly so much quieter. So much less alive. I glance out the window and see her jogging down the street, hair streaming behind her, wearing some kind of purple cape with her skinny jeans and Converse and looking a bit like a superhero.
“There she goes,” murmurs Erin, “Kebab Girl, off on another mission. I don’t know what I’ll do when she goes off to uni.”
I know that Katie has applied to Liverpool, but also to Edinburgh, as well as Leeds, Nottingham, and Brighton.
I’m guessing she’ll have the grades to go anywhere she wants.
“She might not go off; she might go to Liverpool—it’s a great uni.”
“Oh, I know, I went there too—but part of me wants her to go, you know? It’s all about spreading your wings, isn’tit? Taking those first steps into the big wide world? Leaving home for the first time, but doing it in a safe way? You must remember how exciting it was, that great escape!”
I nod and smile but remain silent. My university experience was different from most people’s, and I had never felt safe. I am aware enough to understand that that is why I am usually so careful about my environment now, in an attempt to make up for the underlying sense of threat and fear that defined so much of my younger life. None of which Erin needs to hear.
“He’d have been so proud of her,” she says, looking up at that picture of Ian and Katie again. “So amazed to see how well she’s doing. What a brilliant creature she is. What brilliant things she might do with her life.”
