Talk to Me, Button
Dont be scared, Button! Itll be fine! Theyll shout just a little more and then calm down Probably
Rosie hugged her faithful friend closer and squeezed her eyes shut. She mustnt be afraid. Not now. After all, she was grown up now. Gran Evelyn said so. Since shed already turned five, everyone expected her to be big. Shed even stopped crying at her jabs, because crying was for little girls. Only with Button could she be tiny again. Hed seen her all sorts of ways. Her mum had given her Button, the slightly wonky teddy bear, the day she was born. He was her truest friend. She could tell Button anything. Hed never run off to blab to Mrs. Marsden, the nursery nurse, like Alice, her best friend, always did. Hed just stare back with his round eyes and say nothing. But he always understood, Rosie was sure. And right now, as her parents squabbled downstairs, Buttons presence was comfort itself. He was soft and homey and hers. Her mum and dad were hers too, of course, but when they began shouting at each other, they grew prickly and distant. Rosie couldnt explain it but it felt as though huge brambles with monstrous thorns sprouted up all over the house, just like in that tale of Sleeping Beauty. No one could get near, and shouting only got you more lost. Rosie didnt understand why parents argued. Adults were supposed to know how to work things out and speak each others what was it called language. Gran Evelyn always insisted adults had to find the right language. Maybe it wasnt just little gripes, like with Alice, but grown-up grudgesbig, terrible ones. Rosie hadnt met such boulders of anger before, but now, at night, she knew they existed. Even a small tiff with Alice left her so cross she didnt even want an ice lolly, only to cry. So a real grown-up grudge must feel much worse.
Rosie opened her eyes and listened. Quiet. That meant her mum had gone to the bathroom to cry on her own and Dad was sulking in the kitchen, waiting for her. Rosie uncurled from where shed sat behind her bed all that time and sighed. Her new bedroom was lovely: mum had spent ages choosing the wallpaper and the little white bed with its rose pink quilt. There were so many shelves for Rosies toys that sometimes she forgot which ones she had. She didnt want to leave this room. Here, at least, was nearly peaceful. But Button looked at her and Rosie sniffed, wiping her nose.
I know, I know! Wait here, youll see. Ill do it.
She tucked Button up on the pillow and tiptoed out. Mum firstalways harder. The bathroom door was shut, as always. Rosie knocked.
Mum?
Yes? her mothers voice was husky.
Can I come in?
The door opened; Mum perched on the edge of the bath, eyes red.
What is it? Do you need the loo?
No I just want you. Rosie gulped and crossed the threshold. She hated what would happen next: her mum would cry and hug her close and promise everything would be alright, and Rosie would cry too, not for her mumthough she did feel badbut because she knew for sure that it wouldnt really be alright. It never was. As Alice would say, theres only a little of the good before the brambles grow back.
Rosie wiped her own eyes and looked at her mum.
Why? she asked.
Why what, sweetheart?
Why do you keep shouting? If you dont love each other, shouldnt you just stay far apart? Thats what Gran Evelyn says. When Alice and I fall out, she says to keep away so we cant quarrel.
Her mother froze. Rosie had never, until now, spoken about what happened in the house. Olivia thought their arguments went over her daughters headafter all, how much could a little girl understand?
Rosie, why are you saying this? I do love Daddy
No, Mum, thats not true.
Rosie!
If you really loved him, you wouldnt shout so. You never shout at me.
Olivia was stuck. How to explain that grown-up things were complicated? That shouting wasnt always hate or maybe, sometimes, it was? Such a simple questionwhy?
You need to sit and have a think about your own behaviour. There now! Rosie patted Olivias cheeks and brushed away the tears.
Is that what Gran Evelyn says too? Olivia tried to smile.
Yes! And shes right. I made up with Alice, and now she only goes to Mrs. Marsden when absolutely necessary.
My, youre so grown up Olivia hugged her.
No, Mum, Im not. If I was big Rosie wriggled away, whispering as if sharing a magic secret, I wouldnt be afraid like I am.
Afraid? Olivia frowned. Afraid of what, darling?
What if, next time you and Dad shout, you both leave? Rosies bottom lip wobbled. Go somewhere quiet, because who wants to be where its horrible? You dont like it, do you?
No You think wed leave you behind? Is that what youre frightened of?
Rosie burst out crying. And then only Button will be left! What if he gets lost again, like in that taxi? Then Id be all alone! Gran Evelyn said shes too old to be anyones mum now!
Rosie! Rosie, my love, listen! Ill never go away from you! How could I? Youre my little girl!
But do you remember that when you and Dad fight? Rosies voice was small.
Olivia hesitated. Her daughter had caught her out; in that moment of anger and pain, Olivia forgot everyone and everything except her own hurt and rage. Where had all these ugly words come from?
She remembered the day shed met Petercharging down the corridor at university, late for an exam, bowling over a tall, awkward boy. His glasses flew off, and all shed managed was an apologetic Sorry! as she dashed into the lecture hall.
She passed with flying colours and skipped out into the sunny day. It was nearly summer holidaystime for sand and waves.
Squinting, the gangly boy approached, grinning. Oi! Express train! Running to another timetable, are you? He always teased her that wayhis little engine, especially if she sulked.
You puff so cutely! I cant get cross at you! hed laugh. Even in the maternity ward, the nurses snickered when, during labour, he shouted, Dont puff, little enginejust push!
When had he stopped calling her that? When had their rows grown sharp, not teasing? When had they even started quarreling, really?
Mum?
Yes, darling?
Is it that bad, you two? Did you get cross?
Olivia twisted Rosies hair between her fingers, chest aching. She used to hope her daughter would have her dads golden curls, not her own limp hair. Just not my three feathers! shed quipped. But youve lovely hair! Peter would protest. With a good haircut Imagine if she had your hair and my eyesboys would fall at her feet! Rosie had got her wish: wild wheat-gold springs and sea-blue eyes.
And it pained Olivia, suddenly, to realise she resented Rosies bond with her father. She recalled how Peter, home from work, would brush right past her at the door to scoop up Rosie with a Wheres my princess? Ive got you your favourite chocolate! He laughed and sang songs with Rosie in the car, ignoring her comments, making her repeat herself. And hed shouted at her when Rosie was illtwo years ago now, when their daughter burned with fever and Olivia sat up all night, exhausted and powerless. When the doctor reassured her yet she still sobbed, Peter snapped, Crying wont help! Get a gripwhat sort of mother are you? The words cracked something inside her. She wasnt good enough. And though Rosie recovered, Olivias belief that she was a bad mother never really healed.
Rosie eyed her silently. Time for Dad.
Ill be back soon, she said quietly, freeing herself and leaving Olivia in her thoughts.
Olivia sat still, replaying memories. Was there really so much bad, and what had happened to the good? She forced herself to remember: their early dates, the way hed looked at her, blinking behind his thick glasses, eyes warm and clever.
Why do you stare like that? shed asked. Because youre beautiful. But I cant quite believe hed reply.
That I chose you?
Yes.
Well, youre not so bad yourself!
So easy, then, to know what to say. Why so hard now?
Rosies baby steps, her first word, the first family holiday, the first time Olivia won a small company contract after maternity leavePeter so proud he even baked a (terrible) cake, thick with icing roses. They laughed throwing away the leftovers, and Peter promised hed get it right for their ten-year anniversary. When they bought their flat, sitting furniture-less on the floor with their toddler snoring nearby, Peter joked, Only two rooms. Now we need another daughter for symmetry. But the second baby never came, no matter what doctors insisted. Over time, little rows snowballed into much larger onespiling up like fog over their small home until the mean words, like iron pebbles, became like the brambles Rosie imagined.
Olivia threw cold water on her face. Enough. The good and bad would forever balance unevenly on her heart. Rosie was right: either let go, or nothing ever gets better.
Down the hallway, Rosie poked her head into the kitchen. Dad sat at the table, staring out at the silent garden.
Dad?
Rosebud! Arent you asleep yet?
Its not late! She clambered onto his lap. You were shouting.
I know Im sorry.
Why did you shout?
I dont know. It just happened.
Are you cross with Mum? Rosie fidgeted, searching his face.
Had she held all this in too long? When Alice and she had rowed, Mrs. Marsden made them sit and share until the upset was gone. Surely adults could do that, too?
Did Mum say shes upset with me? Peter pressed his nose into her curls.
No. I just know. When youre happy, you cuddle her and she smiles. When youre angry, you shout. Is that right?
He looked at her anew. Youre growing up, arent you?
Mum said that too. She also said she loves you. And me.
Rosie watched his face soften, as if a stony frown had been erased and replaced with a gentler gaze. Satisfied, she slid off his lap.
I need to go back to Button now. He gets scared by himself.
Of course, love. Peter watched her go, mind awash. When had the chafing begun, such that his own daughter noticed before he did? He remembered, dimly, Olivias warmththat spring sunlightnow replaced by irritation, then sullen silence. He missed the way their home used to glow, its knotted moments less frequent.
He remembered that night Rosie had the feverhow helpless hed felt watching Olivia sob, and how hed lashed out, saying things he couldnt take back. Words stacked into mighty, spiky ramparts between them. He was angry at himself more than her, but that hardly mattered now.
Peter sighed, staring at the window. House after house flickered with busy, secret livessome happy, some not. Would his life, without Olivia and Rosie, feel as empty as a cave, hollow and echoing? All his purposethe green eyes of his girls, his pulse.
He remembered Mums words, spoken when he was a teenager, advice that haunted him now.
Take responsibility. Even if shes at fault, think how you contributed. Most times, love, both are to blame, but a man bears it more. Partly because women followthey trust you to care for them. If shes at peace, you will be too. And remember, she isnt made of iron. Dont leave all the heavy lifting to her: an hours help each day is a guarantee to happiness. And treat her, always, as you did before the ring went on. Then shell never be ordinary to you.
Thanks, Mum Peter breathed.
*
Rosie couldnt sleep for ages. She lay in the hush, one arm around Button, the other ringed around her mother, who soon fell into a pale, exhausted slumber. There, between Mums brows, was a wrinkle that never used to appear. Rosie traced it gently with her finger. Under her touch, it slowly faded. She cuddled closer, wishing with all her heart for tomorrow to be a good daya real good day, not just good in words.
*
Olivia didnt hear the alarma clock shaped like a kitten in Rosies room. She leapt up late, groaning at the time. No chance, today, of being early for nursery or work. Well, nothing urgent was scheduled. Odd noises from the kitchenwas Peter still home? She washed quickly, hoping hed leave first so she could avoid talking.
No such luck. Entering the kitchen, she found Peter at the stove, anxiously stirring a bubbling coffee pot, his eyes red from sleeplessness. On the table sat a truly tragic cake with bright, badly piped icing. The nozzles from her piping set, lost for a month, had somehow reappeared. He must have spent all night at it.
She stared, baffled, at Peter, who stepped towards her, desperate.
Im sorry, OlIm rubbish as a husband. At everything. For not seeing you, for my impatience. You and Rosie are the best things in my life. And if there was no you, thered never have been her. I dont know if we can fix everything, but will you try?
Olivia studied him, searching for what had changed. Then she crossed the kitchen and placed her hand over his mouth. Were both to blame. But youre righttheres a lot to think about.
How long will you need? he teased, voice trembling.
Oh, about seven months, give or take, she replied.
Peter blinked, slow to understand.
What? You mean?
She nodded. At that moment, Rosie burst in, clutching Button and rubbing her eyes. Have you made up yet? And why is there cake? Are we allowed cake for breakfast?
Peter and Olivia exchanged a glance.
Absolutely everythings allowed today! Peter gathered his wife close and whispered, Give me a chance?
And you give me one too! Olivia replied, then called, No cake for unwashed girls!
Ill be quick! Rosie set Button on the chair and declared, Two slices, please. For me and Button.
Teddy bears dont eat cake.
Thats why Im heresomeone has to help!
*
Years on, Olivia would hurry the pushchair through the park, little Freddie blinking as she made for the primary gates to collect Rosie. Peters arms would steal round her waist. Let me, hed say, gathering up the baby while Olivia hurried off. Holiday plans packed, seaside tickets readyFreddie would see the coast for the very first time.
So much had happened in those yearstheir struggles, a two-month separation when Olivia and Rosie lived with her parents, the gentle peace they made with Evelyns help, losing Peters mother, and then Freddies birthhis first giggle, first tooth, first word (Papa, not MummyPeter wouldnt let her forget it). On Rosies first day at school, she stood solemn and pale, scarier than the wildest bramblesand braver, too.
“Mum!” Rosie called as the school gates opened.
“Rosie! How was it?”
“Best ever! Mrs. Brown says only me and Alice got everything right.”
“Brilliant!” Olivia caught her daughter in a squeeze.
“Wheres Dad? Wheres Freddie?”
“Theyre in the park, waiting for us.”
“And Button?”
“Where would we be without Button? Hes in the pram.”
Rosie exhaled happily. Shed given her favourite teddy to her brother, because you share your dearest things with those you love. But she still missed Button, even if she pretended not to. You could always tell Mum the truth.
She watched her parents swapping the baby, arguing amiably over whether turtles or trains were his favourite. Rosie leaned into the pram, nuzzling Button.
What do you thinkwill everything be alright now?
Button stared back with his usual solemn round eyes and said nothing. But Rosie knew, this time, shed heard his answer.
