The Best of Friends by Alex Day (accelerated reader books .txt) 📕

Jamie and Luke with Toby and Sam. They’re cute, your kids. Somewhat over-indulged, I must say – you don’t seem to do discipline in the way that I understand it – but nevertheless, they’re still cute. Little Luke with his spiky hair and cheeky smile. Dan told me how piteously he begged for his party bag, poor lamb. He probably doesn’t get lovely treats very often. And Jamie, so tall and handsome, with that shrewd, intelligent look in his eye. I can’t help feeling sorry for him, condemned to attending the local primary and then the comp.

I suppose he’ll come out with a clutch of GCSEs – I mean, schools are held to account for things like that these days, aren’t they? Not like in my day when it was perfectly acceptable to consign pupils to the rubbish heap. Back then, society didn’t need everyone to be uber-educated; in fact, for some it was better not to be. There were jobs specifically for people with no qualifications, the kinds of jobs in factories and workshops and Royal Mail sorting offices that you wouldn’t get if you had so much as a grade 3 CSE to your name. Somehow, despite everything, I managed to scrape some decent results together but it was because of my own efforts, nothing to do with the apology for an educational institution that I attended.

I’m glad things are different now, that league tables reveal to everyone what schools are achieving for those in their care. But it’s all the other things Jamie – and all kids like him – will miss out on. Now I’ve had so much experience of public school through my own children, I just know that attending somewhere good would really bring out the best in little Jamie, and in sporting terms, with his innate ability, perhaps catapult him to county or even national level. Rugby, football, cricket – any of these could be his big talent, if he got the chance.

But when I mentioned to Dan that you would more than likely never think about the possibilities and that perhaps I should make some enquiries about bursaries or scholarships on Jamie’s behalf, he told me not to be ridiculous, saying that it’s nothing to do with me and you’d probably be insulted at the implication that you’re not capable of acting in your own children’s best interests. He told me that I can’t single-handedly take care of all of life’s woes, can’t rescue all the lame ducks. So I dropped it.

I stride onwards towards the first of the big towers that form the corner pieces of the fortress. The boys have raided the dressing-up box – another thing that these days remains untouched unless friends are here – and all four of them are brandishing swords and wearing helmets and imitation chain mail tabards. As I approach, Jamie is performing a daredevil trick that involves throwing himself bodily off a wall, catching a knotted rope and swinging vigorously on it so that he arrives at the next set of battlements. He really is remarkably agile. But I still worry. It would be so easy to slip and fall, even for the most adept, the one with the best balance.

Toby watches from a distance, clearly in awe of Jamie’s ability to find new ways to use this old toy. Luke, the adoring younger brother, is less circumspect. He’s not foolish enough to attempt what Jamie has just done but he’s observing how he is now tightrope walking across one of the crossbeams that tie in the castle walls. Though I don’t think it’s really meant for this purpose, I’m not worried that it won’t hold his weight, but that he surely cannot have good enough balance to get across. But he does it, and thus emboldened, he makes his way up to a similar beam on an even higher level. I’m starting to get really nervous now. For any mother, her children are the most important thing in the world. For you, since your divorce, they’re all you’ve got.

Jamie tentatively steps onto the highest cross beam.

‘Careful! Jamie, watch out!’

My warning shout is out before I’ve properly thought it through. Shouting at a child in a dangerous situation is the worst thing to do; it makes them jump, breaks their concentration, causes them to turn around to look at you – all things that can lead to disaster.

Jamie, steady as a rock, does not falter. But, outside of my field of vision to the left, I hear a sharp, anguished cry. I turn with lightning speed to catch sight of Luke struggling to keep his footing, his arms flailing wildly but futilely in the air, his mouth open in a wide circle of shock and fear, his eyes full of panic. As I look on, unable to help in any way, he slips and plummets to the ground like a stone.

There’s a pause, that pause that all mothers dread, before the howl of pain emanates forth from the depth of his lungs.

I rush over to him. He’s lying motionless, one leg twisted beneath him. I kneel down beside him on grass that’s wet from the earlier rain. The wood must have been damp and slippery – enough to cause his fall, nothing to do with my cry of alarm after all.

Shushing and soothing the boy with my voice, I reach out my hands to feel for broken bones. I touch his leg. He screams.

‘Fetch Hana,’ I shout to Toby, ‘quickly!’

Hana has first aid training. She did a year of nursing in Bulgaria or Rumania or wherever it is she’s from before she came here. She’ll know what to do. This hasn’t gone quite according to plan; I’m not completely in control which always unnerves me.

Whilst I wait for Hana to arrive, I cradle Luke’s head in my arms and tell him that everything is going to be all right. Even though I have no way of knowing that it will be.

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