The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

trampoline which they’ll no doubt have been bouncing on for at least an hour by now, I think as I look at the clock on the wall opposite. But as soon as I hear the voice on the other end of the line my heart starts to pound. It’s not either of my children. It’s my mother. And she’s crying.

‘Beth, oh Beth, I’m so glad you answered. Something dreadful has happened …’

I’m up out of my chair, grabbing my bag and running for the door before she’s even finished trying to explain. It’s Finley. Some sort of accident. Something to do with the trampoline. She’s called an ambulance and she’s telling me to meet them at A&E. And now I’m crying too, panicking, tearing through reception, shouting to Ruth behind the desk that I have to go, that I have to get to the hospital. I can hear her frightened voice and see the startled faces of the patients who are sitting there as I rush past, and then somehow I’m in the car and somehow I’m driving and somehow, somehow, I get to Cheltenham General.

It’s a bad ankle sprain, nothing worse.

‘I thought it was broken. He was in so much pain. Oh Beth …’ Mum whispers, her face tear-streaked, mascara puddled under her eyes, as I wrap my little boy in my arms and squeeze him so tightly that he whimpers.

‘Muuuum! Stop it! I can’t breathe!’

I release him, but only a little. He looks so small in the big hospital bed. He’s still in his school uniform of a navy jumper and shorts, one leg now bandaged tightly from toes to knee. He’s no stranger to A&E, this child, so full of energy and bravado that he’s had numerous little falls and bumps over the years. But this time I wasn’t there to pick him up, to kiss it better, and now I think this was my fault. It was the trampoline, the one I put together, the one I built.

‘The leg just sort of went skewwhiff,’ Mum says as I drive us home. Eloise is with Robin back at the house, Mum having travelled in the ambulance with Finley.

‘Eloise had just climbed off to take a break, and Finley was bouncing happily up and down on his own, weren’t you, love? Robin had been out there in the garden with them for a while, and then she said she wanted to go in and finish the cleaning, so she asked me to take over, which of course I was happy to do. It was so lovely seeing them enjoying it so much, you know? And so I was just standing there, keeping an eye on Finley, and suddenly there was a sort of loud crack and one of the legs just … collapsed. I hate to say this, darling, but I don’t think you attached it properly. I mean, I’m not blaming you at all. Accidents happen and I know you were struggling with it so maybe the thing was faulty, but … anyway, the whole jumping platform thing, whatever you call it, sort of tilted down really suddenly and Finley came flying off onto the grass. You landed really awkwardly on your ankle, didn’t you, pet?’

She looks over her shoulder at Finley in the back seat, and in the rear-view mirror I see him nodding.

‘It really hurt, Mummy,’ he said. ‘It feels better now though. And I like my crutches.’

‘Good,’ I say. ‘But you need to take it easy for a few days. Remember what the doctor said? Be careful on the crutches. And definitely no more trampolining.’

He nods again, vehemently this time.

‘Don’t want to go on it anyway,’ he says. ‘Don’t like it anymore.’

I’ve been feeling sick ever since Mum’s phone call, and now I genuinely feel like I might throw up. The guilt is horrendous.

Mum’s trying to be nice about it, but this is all down to me. I was so tired yesterday, and I thought I’d been so careful, but maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I didn’t tighten all the nuts and bolts. Maybe I missed one, missed something, because otherwise this wouldn’t have happened, would it? And what if he’d landed on his head instead of his ankle? What if he’d broken his neck? My son could have died today, and it would have been all my fault …

‘Stop, Mummy!’

Finley’s shouting at me from the back seat and I realise I’m about to drive past the house. I slam on the brakes. As I lean down to help him out of the car, Brenda suddenly appears on the other side of the wall.

‘Beth,’ she says hesitantly. I straighten up and turn to look at her, my heart sinking.

Not now. I really can’t take it, not today.

But her face is creased with sympathy, her eyes anxious.

‘It’s my day off, and I was in the garden and heard the screaming, and then the ambulance … Oh Finley, are you OK? Is he OK, Beth? I’m so sorry …’

I think I’m going to cry again. Maybe, despite what she and Barbara said to Mum, she does care after all.

‘He’s OK, thanks. Just a badly sprained ankle.’

‘Oh, thank goodness. Well … I’ll leave you to it. Take care, Beth.’

There’s an awkward pause as we just stand there looking at each other. Then she turns away and hurries off towards her front door.

‘Bit two-faced, if you ask me,’ mutters Mum, who’s been listening to the exchange, and I shrug.

‘Maybe,’ I say quietly, but she’s already heading for the house. Brenda sounded genuinely concerned to me, but I’m clearly not a good judge of character, going by recent events, and anyway, I have more important things to deal with right now. Something’s just occurred to me, quite suddenly, something to do with how Mum described what had happened with the trampoline and I need to get into the house. I need to talk to Robin, urgently, so I haul Finley out of the car and, groaning a little (when did