CHIM - Life in the limelight SEQUEL

Chapter 1

We’re just getting to school, we’re late again. What a surprise. I pull the zip of my thin jacket towards my chin with one hand while the other is pushing the pushchair that Paisley is holding onto tightly. Her knuckles have turned white, her face even whiter. Her eyebrows are furrowed and a pout is slowly forming on her still chubby face because once again she doesn’t want to go to school. She’s kicking at the same uneven stone she has all the way up the road with the toes of her new converse trainers. It’s slightly irritating just like her lazy stroll but I don’t have the energy in me to nag at her like I have been doing since I woke up. I nag too much. I can still smell the stench of stale urine from the lift we just stepped out of. It will linger with me all day, the sickening smell of smoke too from the stained rug I’m still yet to throw away that’s sprawled on my bedroom floor. That like almost everything else in our new flat was there when we moved in.

The school playground is abandoned, not a soul is in sight. It’s silent. The one noise I hear is coming from my baby as she twists and whines almost silently. As I begin to get Paisley’s backpack from the bottom of the pram she tugs on my coat. Her eyes have a look in them that terrifies me; she looks terrified so I ask her why she’s so afraid. I recognise that look because I have witnessed it more than any mother should. She swings around, her hair flying, her finger pointing towards the green wet metal that is gating the school. I feel a churning feeling in my stomach, I feel physically sick, my chest tightens as does my fist. My eyes land on a young man stood with a camera in his hand. His grey hood from his waterproof is pulled over his head and down almost concealing his eyes but even with that creating a thick shadow on his face I still recognise him. He’s one of the many people that made my relationship suffer even more then it was, even as it crumbled apart in front of my very eyes and the eyes of millions of strangers around the world people like him made the pain I was feeling just a tad more unbearable due to their constant hounding, obsessive stalking and inconsiderate antics that not only affected me but my whole entire family.

“It’s alright” I tell her crouching down to the wet ground. She keeps twisting and turning, trying to look to him again and watch what he’s doing. The paparazzi that have been following us since Alaina was born have been ruthless, even around the girls which makes things a whole lot more serious. I raise my hand; my fingers touch Paisley’s cold skin gently. I smile at her, a tired smile but a genuine one. “You’re going to have a nice day today” I tell her, I’m trying to convince not just her but myself too. It has to be better than the day she had yesterday because it couldn’t be any worse.

“I don’t want to go in” Paisley reaches for my hand, her grip is tight and she’s trying to pull my arm so we can turn around and go back to the scummy flat waiting for us on the estate we’ve just left. There’s nothing more I’d like to do then hold her hand tight and take her home to mope around in front of the TV but it’s not the answer and if she misses one more day of school action will be taken, well that’s what I have read time and time again in letter after letter. Her eyes are brimming with fresh tears that I’m trying to ignore but there’s an ache in my chest. I know that for her sake I have to be strong like I know her mam isn’t being.

“Here comes your teacher, give me a kiss” and she refuses because she’s still refusing to let me go. Before I know it her middle aged, blonde haired teacher has had to leave her class to tare Paisley from around my neck. She’s holding her wrists gently in her hands and there’s a heart tugging glisten on Paisley’s ivory skin as a single tear rolls down her face. I press a kiss on her forehead one last time and I tell her to have a nice time and to ignore the unkind comments her classmates might make like they did every other day this week, and the week before.  “I love you!” I call as I grab the pushchair handles and hurry away leaving my daughter crying for me in the arms of some woman I barely know that knows our family history. The whole class does and that’s why Paisley hates this place and I hate what I’ve done. I hate that all of this pain has been inflicted thoughtlessly by nobody else but me.