Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,100

at her face and dabbed her with a hankie, I watched a film of ash bob slowly away from us. That was all that was left of him.

I looked down at my coat, swelling out over my stomach, and ran my hand down the cloth. Inside me I felt that fluttering feeling again. I didn’t know for sure, but I had a pretty good idea it was a boy. He was always moving about, always restless. Just like his father.

A little line of gray ash built up on the edge of my fingers as I smoothed down my coat. I scraped it off with the other hand and put it in my palm.

Spider.

How could we have done that? Just thrown him away? I needed him with me, near me.

“Come back! “ I shouted to the sea. “Come back, don’t leave me!”

Karen and Val looked around and were instantly by my side.

“It’s alright, love,” said Karen. “You let it out.”

“But you don’t understand, I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready yet, to say good-bye.”

Val put her arm around me. “You never will be. There’s never a good time for it.”

I was really crying now, and so were they. We all put our arms around each other, a sad triangle, coats flapping in the breeze. I rested my arm on Val’s waist, but my fist was closed. I kept the last remaining particles of Spider safe in my hand.

Safe.

FIVE YEARS LATER

I don’t hang around the places where kids go skiving off anymore. I guess you could say I’ve moved on. These days, you’ll find me in playgrounds, on the beach, down at the community center, or waiting outside school. It’s all part of the normal pattern of things, isn’t it? Kids like me turn into parents like me. And our kids will turn into teenagers, and then into parents themselves. And on and on.

I’m not so different anymore. That whole time with Spider, it changed me, and not in just the obvious ways — growing up, falling in love, having sex, and that. It showed me what I was missing, what I hadn’t had for fifteen years: having real friends, someone to have a laugh with, learning to trust people, open up a bit. It changed my whole outlook on life — I’d been so hung up on the numbers that I’d let them paralyze me, I can see that now. The numbers had stopped me from living. But Spider, and all those other people — Britney, Karen, Anne, Val — they changed that for me, made me realize I was wasting what time I did have.

I wish I could tell you I’d done something great with my life — become a brain surgeon or a teacher or something — but you wouldn’t believe me, anyway, would you? I suppose, looking back, I’ve done two things so far. For a start, I stayed with Karen and looked after her after she had her stroke. I’d known she only had three years to go, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, really.

I was trying to sort out getting my own place; in fact, I was over at the flat Social Services were offering me, when I got a phone call from the hospital. Karen had collapsed in the street. It was a massive stroke, left her partially paralyzed down one side. Her speech went, too — she still had all her marbles, just couldn’t get the words out without a struggle. It was just accepted that I’d look after her. She lost the twins — Social Services found them another home — broke her heart, that did. But everyone assumed that I’d stay with her and care for her.

It was hard, really hard, trying to look after Adam as well as dress Karen, feed her, take her to the toilet. It was like having two kids. I can’t tell you the number of times I nearly walked out. I even packed my bags. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. I knew she didn’t have long left. Besides, she’d stood by me, through being pregnant and then bringing Adam home. She’d helped so much, showing me how to cope with him, giving me a break when I was fed up. I figured I owed her.

Toward the end, we had some very bad days. The thing was, although I couldn’t see the numbers anymore, I could remember them. They disappeared while I was pregnant — when I was in and out of the psychiatric