Every Time a Bell Rings. Carmel Harrington

once more before turning around to go home.

      I vow to myself that I’ll be right by his side to pick up the pieces again. I already have two bars of his favourite Tiffin chocolate hidden in my top drawer upstairs, ready to console him.

      After the last time, Tess has forbidden us from watching out for her upstairs. So instead she has us all sitting around the kitchen table, listening to Jim tapping his knee with his fingers.

      Tess is on her third cigarette and it’s freezing because she has the doors and windows all open to let the smoke out.

      I’ve got to find a way to stop her smoking. Not just because she’ll freeze us all out, but because that wheeze in her chest is getting louder all the time.

      When the doorbell rings, we all jump and look at each other. Tess stubs out her cigarette and hides the ashtray under the sink. Jim fixes his shirt – again – and I take a deep breath.

      I stand side by side to him when Tess opens the door. And we all hold our breath, waiting to see which Mrs Looney will walk through the door.

      She looks nervous, but she’s not out of breath. Maybe there was no crazy zig-zagging this time. Without looking at Jim, I can feel the relief seeping from his very core.

      I look her up and down, taking in her bright-pink batwing jumper and her tight, white trousers. She’s got on white high-heel shoes and I wish I had a pair like them. She’s had her hair done and it looks glossy and swings onto her shoulders, like one of the models in a l’Oreal advert. Last time she was here, it was streaked with dark roots and she was wearing an awful blue and grey shell tracksuit.

      She’s practically unrecognisable.

      This version is a new one. She didn’t look like this the last visit.

      It’s great that she’s smiling and when she pulls Jim into a big hug, I could burst with happiness for him.

      Why is my stomach flipping about and why do I feel so uneasy?

      ‘You’ve grown so much,’ she says to Jim, her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head. ‘You’re almost a man now, up to my shoulder already.’

      ‘They’re like weeds, the two of them,’ Tess moans. ‘I’m going to put a block on their heads one of these days. I can’t keep clothes on them,’ she quickly adds, ‘Not that I mind, of course.’

      ‘Of course,’ his mam replies and they both look awkward.

      ‘What’s in the bag?’ I ask, changing the subject. I wonder if it’s the same bag that she had the last time she visited. She was clutching it like it was the crown jewels, but we never got to find out what it contained because she didn’t stick around long enough.

      Jim’s mam smiles at me and thrusts the brown bag to Jim. ‘It’s for you both.’

      We both smile in anticipation and peer into the bag when Jim opens it. Bars, in bright wrappers, purples, pinks, yellows all gleam up to us, accompanied by the most wonderful sweet smell of cocoa.

      ‘I didn’t know what your favourites are, so I bought a few of everything,’ she tells us.

      ‘Jim loves Tiffin.’ I say, feeling superior. I know him better than you, I wanted to say. But I don’t.

      ‘Belle loves caramel bars,’ Jim says.

      ‘Oh, I don’t think I bought any Tiffin.’ She looks upset about that.

      ‘It’s okay. I love Star Bars too,’ Jim says and pulls one out, ready to pull the wrapper off.

      ‘I’ll take them,’ Tess says, swooping in and confiscating them. ‘I am very careful with their diet. Just one bar each as a treat at the weekend. I’m all about their five a day. Healthy eating and all that.’

      Jim and I snigger under our breath. Yeah, right. Five bars of chocolate a day, she means.

      Tess does this all the time whenever the social workers come by. Pretends to be super-perfect or something. And the thing is, she is perfect. She doesn’t need to pretend.

      She tells his mam that she’ll hand them out over the next few weeks, one bar a day, but Jim and I know that’s rubbish.

      ‘Let’s leave Jim and his mam be,’ Tess says, giving me a dirty look. She knows we’re teasing her. She ushers me up the stairs to my bedroom. ‘You go on into the living room, Mrs Looney. I’ll send in some tea.’

      ‘You’d swear she had servants, the way she’s speaking,’ I whisper to Jim. ‘Good luck. She looks well, it’s a good sign.’ I squeeze his hand quickly before I run upstairs.

      Did I mean that? I’m not sure. I know that I want Jim to be happy, but I’m scared of what his happiness might mean for me. It’s all so complicated. His mam looks much better than the last time and that has to be a good thing, right?

      Then there’s that nasty voice in my head again.

       When he asks her to take him home today, she might say yes, then what will you do?

      I’ll be on my own again.

      I swallow back a lump of putrid, acidy sick that has burned its way up my throat. I don’t want him to go. I feel ashamed again that I am being so selfish, putting my own needs ahead of his. He’s my best friend. I should be on his side. End of. Jim has been talking about going home ever since that first day he arrived here. He loves her, crazy bits and all.

      I quickly cross my fingers that she’s well again and vow that I will be a better person if Jim gets his wish. I’ll not say a word, I’ll not cry. I’ll just hug him and tell him I’m so happy. And I’ll be okay, if he goes, because I have Tess.

      I glance at Dee-Dee sitting on the end of my bed amongst an array of stuffed toys. I haven’t played with her in a long time. She doesn’t talk to me any more, but then again, I don’t really talk to her. I pick her up and hug her, but I don’t feel any comfort the way I used to.

      Now that I’ve had a real best friend, I don’t want a doll.

      I perch my bum on our windowsill and flick my way through a battered 1983 Bunty annual. It’s years out of date, but even so, I still like reading it. I envy Bunty’s life and sometimes pretend that I’m her.

      I’m living in a big house, blonde, pretty, rosy-cheeked and I’m living a normal, carefree life, with my mam, dad and little brother.

      I forget about Jim and his mam for a while, as I get immersed into Bunty’s latest escapade on a snowy mountain side.

      I’m not sure I could pull off the cute ski gear she’s donning, though. I’m so tall, my legs seem to be too long for everything. Tess goes mad every time I go up a size, she says that it’s impossible to find a new pair of jeans for me that fit, so she has to get out her sewing kit to make some alterations.

      A door slams and I look down. Jim’s mam is leaving already. That flew by. She’s got her arm around him as he walks her to the gate. She actually walks straight through the cracked pavement slabs. Another good sign.

      I watch them hug for ages and feel weird watching them, like I’m snooping. But I can’t take my eyes off them all the same. It’s a lovely moment and I’m envious again. He’s got one of his goofy smiles plastered over his face and that makes me happy at least.

      Relief floods me as I realise that I’m happy to see him smile. Maybe I’m not such a bad person after all. I run downstairs two stairs at a time. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

      ‘Well, Jimbo, did she like your hair?’ I ask.

      And before he says anything back to me, I know. His face looks different. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him in the past two years. I mean, we’ve laughed a lot. Once we snorted so much that I even peed my pants.

      ‘She’s taking you home,’ I say.

      He looks at me