Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📗

twins as it’s a teacher training day and their mother has an interview. Apparently, there’s no one else to help. Lucy has managed to book the day off work. She’d better call me as soon as they know the results. Ever since I looked up Mum’s symptoms online the possible diagnosis has been eating away at me like acid in my stomach. I might be wrong, though, and I know I have to cling to that thought to get me through the next few hours.

I sit at the old pine kitchen table and open my laptop to do the Sainsbury’s order first. The cupboards are nearly empty and we’ve almost run out of washing powder. I click on a few items from my favourites list and am searching for inspiration for meals when I hear the back door open and close. Lucy walks in and I brace myself.

‘Yuk, it stinks in here. Have you been cooking your disgusting vegetable curry again?’ She looks around the room and sees the heap of washing up. ‘Why do you leave the pans until the next day? No wonder it smells. And why is there a pile of washing on the floor? Surely you’ve had time this morning to sort all this.’ She waves her arm around the room.

‘I had to see to Merlin and clean his stable out. I’m about to do the chores.’ Why can’t she just knack off and leave me alone?

‘Surely looking after the house for Mum should be your priority. Why are you on your laptop? Is checking Facebook more important?’

‘I’m doing a Sainsbury’s food order. Look, why don’t you go and see if Mum’s ready? She’s been quite unwell the last couple of days.’ As you’d know if you’d bothered to call and ask.

Lucy stares at me. ‘More stomach pains?’

‘She’s been sick a few times and getting pain when she lies down.’ I pause. ‘What do you think it is, Lucy?’ I hold my breath hoping she isn’t going to confirm my worst fears.

‘It’s the doctor’s job to diagnose, not mine. Maybe it’s a gastric bug or something.’ I’m sure she doesn’t believe this because she looks at me and her voice softens. ‘I know you’re worried, Jenna, but we’ll find out soon. I’ll call you after the appointment.’

I’m surprised by the sudden warmth in her voice. I rise out of my chair for a hug but she’s already turning away and heading for the stairs. I bite my lip to stop my eyes filling with tears and turn back to the screen to distract myself by clicking on carrots and bathroom cleaner. By the time I’ve finished the shopping order my emotions are under control. I’d hate Mum to see me upset.

I hear voices approaching and glance around the kitchen again then up at the clock. Damn, there isn’t time to sort out the washing now. I’ll have to do it when I get back from the twins. I wish Grace were here to give me a hand but she usually only works Tuesdays and Fridays. Since Mum has been feeling unwell, most of the household tasks have fallen to me and I admit I’m not very domesticated. I was just about managing the small tasks initially, but now I see chores that demand my attention everywhere I look. The lawn needs mowing, the windows are dirty and the cooker is filthy. But does any of this matter? Really? It distresses Mum, though, if the house isn’t clean and tidy so I do need to get it sorted.

‘Oh, Jenna,’ Mum sighs as she walks into the room and sees the mess. She’s dressed in a pair of smart trousers and a jacket, and for a blissful moment it’s as if this has just been a horrible nightmare and she’s going to work.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I ran out of time.’

Lucy stands behind her and slowly shakes her head in disbelief at my incompetence.

‘I promise I’ll sort it all out when I get back from work. I’ve got to go now.’ I open the fridge to see if there’s anything I can take for my lunch but it’s almost empty. I grab a tub of red pepper houmous that’s three days out of date and a packet of breadsticks from the cupboard then shove them into my work bag. They’ll have to do. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway. Before I leave, I hug Mum and wish her luck, then remind Lucy to call me with the results. She gives me a small nod and on impulse I pull her into a hug too. She stands as stiff as an old soldier on Remembrance Day and I let her go, turning away with a heavy heart.

‘What’s the time, Mr Wolf?’ Aimee’s voice is pitched high with excitement.

It’s so easy to please five-year-olds. I hear the twins whispering and shuffling across the lawn behind my back.

‘Two o’clock,’ I answer, and glance at my watch. It’s actually three o’clock and Lucy still hasn’t rung or replied to my messages. My stomach is taut with worry but I can’t let the twins see my distress.

‘What’s the time, Mr Wolf?’

Jake is almost within touching distance so I spin around and shout, ‘Dinner time!’ before chasing them across the garden.

They squeal and dart away like fish from the jaws of a shark. They’re lovely kids and I enjoy looking after them but today I feel trapped. Every minute seems like an hour and I still have two hours before I’m free.

I build an obstacle course around the garden using the hosepipe, watering can and flowerpots, and use the stopwatch on my phone to time the children as an excuse to keep checking my messages. I watch the kids hopping, jumping and throwing a ball into a basket, and when they look at me, I give them a big, fake smile before glancing at my phone again. We go indoors to make crispy cakes then I settle them in front of