(Being a glimpse into the future of one particular supporting character.)

(CONTENT WARNING: Ableism. And terrible parents.)

*

April 2019

Wendy’s mum had written a book.  There had been a kind of mini-book-launch down at the centre in town yesterday, but that had been during the day, and Wendy had had school.  So this was the first chance Wendy had had to read it.

She crouched beside the bookshelf in the dining room, and held it out in front of her, looking over the cover in order to put off actually opening the thing.  It was a chunky hardback in baby-blue, with a picture of a teddy bear and a pile of letter-blocks on the front, designed to look as if someone had thrown them around and made a mess.  The front cover said, “Sally Pepper- Developmental Issues.”  The back cover said, “In this touching memoir, Sally tells how, through love, faith and humour, she learned to love her daughter for who she is.”

Wendy had deliberately waited until the rest of her family was either out or doing something elsewhere in the house.  She couldn’t have stood them watching her read it, hungry looks on their faces as they eagerly waited for a reaction.  Wendy was alone in the dining room, with the table between her and the door, when she finally plucked up the courage to open the book and read it.

It was like knives in her stomach and worms in her brain.  Wendy flicked through, reading odd paragraphs, and felt the world go dark around her.

One chapter was called ‘The Epic Zoo Tantrum.’  It told the story of Wendy throwing such a screaming fit in the reptile house that they’d all nearly been banned from the zoo.  People around them had been disgusted.  Wendy’s younger brothers had been disappointed at having their day ruined.  And Wendy’s mother had once again questioned how she was going to cope.

(Wendy remembered her mounting terror as she’d asked her mum over and over if she could stay outside while they went in to see the snakes, and her mum pulling her by the wrist and hissing at her not to embarrass them.)

One of the later pages said, “Now that Wendy’s a teenager, I find I’m worrying more and more about boys and sex.  Sometimes I wonder if the best thing would be to book her in for a hysterectomy.  It sounds terrible, but I can’t bear the thought of her passing it onto my grandchildren.”

(There were a couple of boys Wendy liked at school, but nothing serious.  She thought about her friends and the other people in her class getting hold of this book, and felt sick.)

Towards the end, there was a bit where Wendy’s mum had parked at the top of the multi-storey car park in town, and seriously considered picking her up and jumping over the rail, putting them both out of their misery.  This would have been when Wendy was about eleven or twelve.  Her mum had pulled herself back from the brink for the sake of Wendy’s brothers.  Apparently this was the low point of the book, because the subsequent chapters were all about her getting help and support from other parents who knew what it was like to deal with a horrible child like Wendy.

The floorboards creaked.  Wendy looked up and saw her mum standing at the door.  “You’re reading it!” she said, sounding touched.

Wendy said nothing.  She felt like she did at the dentist, when they numbed her mouth before putting in fillings.

“I hoped you would,” said Mum, “I think it’s good for you to see how far we’ve come.”  She smiled warmly.  “You know I’ve always valued honesty more than anything.”