Carmel Harrington - Every Time a Bell Rings

These sausies are good. I ask Dee-Dee if she wants some, putting one up to her face so she can have a nibble.

When Tess comes back a few minutes later, she’s singing in her off-key voice, ‘ Have yourself a merry little Christmas ’ and I start to hum along with her. I like that song a lot.

‘Well, it appears that you really have been a good girl this year, Belle. Santa has arranged it so that one of your presents will arrive early. This very afternoon, in fact. So eat up your sausages, we’ve lots to do. I have to go down to Tesco to get a few last bits for our special surprise.’ Tess is beaming at me and I feel a thrill of excitement.

I’ve never had an early present before. I beam back at her.

‘I bet it’s my dress,’ Dee-Dee says. ‘A big, gold sparkly one.’

‘Answer the door, there’s a good girl,’ Tess tells me, when it buzzes. She jumps up and quickly stubs her cigarette out. Then she starts waving her magazine around the place to disperse the smoke. As I walk out the door, she’s sticking the ashtray under the sink to hide all the evidence.

‘What Mrs Reilly don’t know, won’t kill her.’ She winks at me.

I wonder, is this my present at the door? I’ve waited all day for Tess to give it to me. But what has Mrs Reilly got to do with it? Why is she talking about her? I get my answer and see her standing on the porch.

The problem is that I’ve come to realise that whenever Mrs Reilly arrives, so does bad news.

Oh no, Dee-Dee, she’s come to take us away. I move backwards towards Tess, and I want to scream at her, let me stay, I like it here. Tess is smiling, though, and nodding towards the door, telling me to look in that direction. She doesn’t have that look that I’ve come to recognise on grown-up faces that they all get when they are about to tell you that it’s time to go.

She places her hands on my shoulders and directs my eyes towards the door again. And then I notice that standing just behind Mrs Reilly is a boy.

A tall, lanky, thin boy with hair the colour of a fox. It’s wavy and it’s falling over his eyes. He’s got his head looking down, though, and I notice his fists are clenched by his sides. He doesn’t look very happy, I realise. My heart contracts. I know that feeling.

‘Hello, Jim.’ Tess says, moving towards him. She welcomes them both inside and closes the door behind them. ‘Belle, will you come over and say hello to Jim. He’s coming to stay with us for a while. And he’s eight years old, too, just like you are. Imagine that.’

She gives me a triumphant look and I get it. Even before Dee-Dee screams at me, ‘this must be Santa’s present,’ I get it.

‘He’s not a girl, though,’ she laments. I agree that’s a pity, but he looks okay, for a boy, that is.

He looks up through his hair and I see the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen before. Freckles are scattered densely across his nose too.

Then he looks up and shoots me a dirty look, as if to say, what you looking at? He looks me up and down and sneers.

‘He looks a bit cross,’ Dee-Dee says, stating the obvious.

‘There’s not a pick on you,’ Tess declares, taking him in too and I sneak another glance at him.

Yeah, he’s skinny alright.

‘Well, there’s a challenge for me. How quick can I sort that out for you, young man? I reckon I can put some meat on those bones, quick smart. I’ve enough food in to last us a lifetime in there,’ Tess jokes, thumbing the kitchen.

‘I’ve a boy at home the same way. All legs and not an ounce of fat. He eats me out of house and home,’ Mrs Reilly says to Tess and they both tut at the misfortune of it.

‘Sure I only have to look at a bun …’ Tess says and I giggle.

‘She does more than look at buns,’ Dee-Dee jokes.

‘Do you want to put your bag up in your bedroom?’ Tess asks the boy. ‘You’ll be sleeping in the room at the top of the stairs, first door on the left.’

He looks upwards and suddenly his face doesn’t look cross any more, instead he just looks scared.

I recognise that look. Something in my heart contracts again in sympathy and I feel myself moving forward towards him.

I don’t think about it or plan it, but somehow or other, the words tumble out of my mouth with ease. ‘I’ll show you where your room is if you want me to.’

Before he has a chance to answer, Tess rushes over to me and pulls me into her, so that I’m squished into her big boobs. It feels nice, even though I can’t really breathe. I take in her smell, her Tess smell, which I reckon is the not-unpleasant concoction of onions, sausages, chocolate and tobacco.

‘I knew your voice would be pretty, my little butterfly,’ she says. I think about pulling away from her, but it feels nice and safe here. So I put my arms around her waist, as far as I can make them go and think that I could stay here like this a long time.

‘You do like it here,’ Mrs Reilly says in approval. ‘I told you so.’

‘I like it a lot,’ I say to her and turn to Jim, who looks a bit bewildered by the scene that just unfolded.

I want to show him that I understand how he feels right now, that I know that he’s scared. I want him to know that I feel the same way, most of the time too. But even though it’s scary, it’s going to be okay here. Tess is okay. More than okay. I’ve worked out that she’s kind of wonderful.

‘I know how you feel,’ I whisper to him. I stare into his eyes and he looks at me, our eyes locking. Neither of us moves a muscle and it feels like he gets that I’m trying to tell him something important.

‘Okay,’ he says and smiles for a second. I run up the stairs and can hear him running up behind me, two steps at a time.

When we get to the top, I say to him. ‘You’re my Christmas present, you know. I asked Santa for you. And look, here you are.’

And even though he must think I am barmy, he doesn’t say anything, he just looks away. I can tell that he’s all embarrassed by my declaration. But I don’t care.

‘I’m in there.’ I point to my bedroom on the other side of the landing, then open the door to his room. Tess was up in here for ages earlier, I didn’t know what she was doing. But I can see that she was getting the room ready for Jim. It’s like mine, but it has a blue duvet on the bed instead of pink. There aren’t any cushions, but there is a mat on the floor in the shape of a car. And the wallpaper has blue stripes on it.

I thinks it’s pretty cool.

‘It’s a boy’s room,’ I tell him and he sits down on the bed, trying it out for size. ‘Mine is a girl’s room. In pink.’

He looks at me, head cocked to one side, as if he’s trying to work me out. ‘Do you have to stay here too?’ he finally asks.

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘I suppose I do.’

‘For how long?’ he asks.

I shrug. I don’t know the answer to that. But then I surprise myself by saying, ‘I hope it’s forever.’

He doesn’t like that answer, though. He’s starts to shake his head and the angry look is back on his face again. I didn’t mean to upset him. I’m not sure what I said wrong.

‘I’m going home soon. I won’t be here for more than a day or two, you wait and see. My mam says she will come get me when she feels better and gets herself sorted. It will be any day now.’

‘Oh, you’re a temporary.’ I say. I’ve seen lots of them over the years. Boys and girls who come for a few days, sometimes as short as one night, until some family member comes by to take them home.

I haven’t met as many like me, who stay for a long time.

‘You’re lucky so. I don’t have a mam,’ I tell him.

‘Everyone has a mam,’ he replies, looking doubtful at my statement.

‘Not me,’ I say, as my mother’s face jumps into my thoughts, making me a liar.