Levi grinned widely. ‘Ha-ha!’ he said, laughing. ‘Mum, she said poo! She said she might need a poo in PE!’ Then something else seemed to occur to him. ‘I hope you’re joking,’ he told her, ‘because you can’t say things like that at school. People will laugh at you,’ he added, looking suddenly anxious. ‘And at me,’ he said, as if becoming aware of a worrying possibility. ‘Mum, she’s not gonna be in my class, is she?’
Riley and I exchanged glances as Flip beamed at a now concerned-looking Levi, then threw her arms around his neck. ‘I think I will be in your class,’ she said, as he wriggled free from her clutches. ‘It’ll be good, won’t it? We’ll be just like a real brother and sister!’
She then turned and patted Jackson. ‘An you can be my brother too,’ she said, pinching his cheek, while Levi watched them, clearly appalled.
He wasn’t the only one. ‘God,’ Tyler said, with some feeling, looking at me. ‘I am so glad I don’t have to be a part of this. You’re all right, Flip,’ he said, as her attention turned towards him. ‘And if anyone asks, I’m the black sheep of the family, okay? No relation.’
Which set Marley-Mae off on an impromptu rendition of her current favourite song, so that anyone who hadn’t heard our arrival in the school uniform department could be assured of at least noticing our exit.
Having lunch in town with five children and a buggy is never easy; not if you want it with a modicum of decorum and your coffee served in mugs rather than cardboard. Fortunately, there was a big friendly café just off the high street, which just so happened to be run by my younger sister, Donna, and was invariably the obvious choice. So, with the kit part done (and just the shoes, and the caboodle part, presumably, left to deal with) we headed there to get everyone fed.
Less fortunately, it was busy and there was no large table left, so the logical thing seemed to be to spread across two adjacent ones. ‘There you are, boys,’ Riley told them, as she unbuttoned Jackson’s jacket. ‘You boys can have a boys’ table – you’re officially in charge, Tyler – and we girls can have a nice quiet one next door.’
‘Ye-ess!’ Levi said, doing the little fist-pump he’d learned from Tyler.
‘So, Flip,’ he finished, ‘would you like to help take off Marley-Mae’s coat?’
But it seemed Flip didn’t want to take off Marley-Mae’s coat. It seemed Flip didn’t want to do anything.
Except scream. Which she immediately did, at an ear-splitting volume. As ever, it seemed incredible that so many decibels could come out of such a tiny pair of lungs. I jumped from the seat I’d been just about to park my bottom on and knelt down in front of her in the aisle between the tables, conscious that every head in the place had turned towards us.
‘Flip! Stop that!’ I tried, speaking sternly in the hope that it might work. It didn’t. In fact, her face started to go an alarming shade of purple. She threw back her head then and screamed even louder. I knew my own face was probably well on the way to matching hers for colour; even though my focus was on her, I could hear Tyler groaning, and also the low but rising hum of incredulity from our fellow diners – well, former diners; I doubted anyone was enjoying a quiet lunch any more.
Riley squatted down beside me and placed her mouth close to my ear. ‘God, mother,’ she whispered. ‘I mean, I know you told me, but, oh my word … Look, can I try?’
I leaned to the side, only too happy to accept a third-party intervention, it coming to me immediately that a less familiar figure might bring her ‘back’ more readily than I seemed to be able to.
Riley placed her hands on Flip’s shoulders. ‘Flip,’ she said, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze to get her attention. ‘Something has upset you, clearly, but we don’t know what, do we? And unless you stop this silly screaming, you won’t be able to tell us what it is, will you? We’ll just have to get the boys … are you listening to me, Flip? Get the boys and leave here. Are you listening? Are you hearing what I’m saying?’
Flip’s mouth clamped shut. It was almost an instantaneous action. From one state to a different state in the blink of an eye. She then glared at Riley. ‘Thems are my boys!’ she shouted at Riley. ‘Thems my brothers and I wanna sit with them!’ Then – ping! Blink of an eye again – the screaming started up again.
My mind was whirling with thoughts as I took in the components of this short exchange. Was this simply a manipulation tool? Was this just a classic toddler tantrum? No, it wasn’t that, clearly. No toddler could switch emotions on and off in that way. When a toddler had a tantrum there was a long tail at the end of it; the child in question was invariably an emotional wreck immediately afterwards – a limp rag, hot-cheeked, shuddering with the last remnants of tears. No, this was different. This was knowingly manipulative behaviour, and the name Violet Elizabeth popped unbidden into my brain. Violet Elizabeth from the Just William books I’d read to my own children. Violet Elizabeth, who when crossed always said ‘I’ll scream and I’ll scream and I’ll scream!’
Despite the spectacle we were making of ourselves, it even made me smile. Though somewhat grimly, and I could see Riley was thinking the same. This was no spoilt brat – not in a million years – but this was possibly a learned behaviour; a blunt instrument of a communication tool, in order to get her way. And it was one that we didn’t do her any favours by giving in to for the sake of peace. To give in to it would simply be to reinforce it.
I could read Riley’s thoughts as she took Flip’s hand, and, smiling at the boys (the younger two of whom looked like they might start crying), stood up again. ‘Right, boys, everything is fine,’ she reassured them. ‘Levi, could you help take off your sister’s coat while your nan orders some drinks, sweetheart? Me and Flip here just need to go outside for a minute or two.’ And with that she tugged on a now stunned Flip’s arm, and pulled her, thankfully mute again, out of the café door.
The low hum around us mushroomed into a more familiar burble; cutlery clinked, chairs scraped and normal service seemed to be resumed. ‘Help Levi with Marley-Mae, will you, Tyler?’ I asked him, before heading up to the counter and prefixing my drinks order with a profuse apology to the new woman manning the till, Donna having nipped home for her break. I wasn’t sure how much luck Riley would have with Flip out there, but if it looked like we’d have to cut and run rather than actually eating – or, indeed, without finishing our shopping – I at least wanted a decent slurp of coffee before we did so.
Riley and Flip still hadn’t reappeared when I brought the tray back to the table but, as far as I could see (not to mention hear) through all the menus and various ‘dish of the day’ stickers, Flip had at least not resumed screaming. I duly sat down and sipped my scalding drink. Fingers crossed then.
‘I don’t like her when she does that, Nanny,’ Jackson said quietly. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
Before I could think of an answer, Tyler provided one for him. ‘She’s not right in the head, kiddo,’ he said conversationally. ‘We get it all the time at home, don’t we, Casey?’
I shook my head. ‘Tyler!’ I admonished, albeit equally quietly. ‘How many times have I told you? “Not right in the head” is not a nice thing to say! She has some problems, sweetheart, that’s all,’ I corrected for the benefit of Levi and Jackson. ‘But we’re working to help her – all of us; Tyler’s doing his bit, too – and hopefully you boys can just be a little bit patient while we try to work out how best we can do that right now. Is that okay?’
Jackson nodded and then pointed at the door. ‘It’s all right, Nan, she’s all better now. Look, they’re coming back in again.’
She did indeed seem largely ‘all better’. Riley winked at me as she sat opposite and pulled Flip into the chair next to hers. ‘All sorted, Mum,’ she said, turning to smile at Flip, who seemed to be looking up at her adoringly. ‘Flip just wanted to sit somewhere different, didn’t you, sweetie?