Lifesaving for Beginners

at the names of the stations when we stop and then looking in the timetable we got at King’s Cross.
    When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a train driver. Now, I’m going to be a lifeguard when I grow up but I still like going on trains.
    Dad met us at the train station. He gave me a high-five then took Faith’s suitcase and put it on the ground and he hugged her real tight and they stood like that, in the middle of the platform, for ages, and everyone had to walk round them and they didn’t even notice. Afterwards, Dad picked up Faith’s suitcase and put his arm across her shoulders. He said, ‘We’re going to sort things out, OK, kiddo?’ Faith didn’t say that she could sort things out for herself. And she didn’t tell him not to call her kiddo either. She just nodded and walked along beside him, like she was really tired.
    Christmas decorations are pretty much the same in Scotland. Every single room in Dad and Celia’s house has Christmas decorations in it. Not just the sitting room. Even the birthing pool has got tinsel all over it. Celia says she’s having the baby at home because she heard about a woman who went into hospital to have a baby boy and she came home in a box. I don’t know what happened to the baby. Celia didn’t say. I hope he didn’t go home in a box too, I really do.
    The first time Celia thinks the baby is coming, she gets Dad to phone for an ambulance.
    Dad says, ‘Will I not phone Carol?’ Carol is the name of the nurse who is in charge of filling the birthing pool with water and helping ladies who are about to have babies in their own houses.
    Carol’s name and number are in Celia’s birth plan. She showed me the plan. It’s four pages long. Celia typed it out herself. She can type ninety words a minute, which is one and a half words every second. I did the sum. It’s long division.
    Celia is in the hall, on her hands and knees. She’s making a noise like a bear I saw once on a wildlife programme.
    When she’s finished making the noise, she turns to Dad and shouts, ‘RING 999.’
    Dad says, ‘Don’t worry, pet, I’ll drive you to the hospital.’
    Celia shouts, ‘There’s no time to drive. The baby is coming RIGHT NOW.’
    When they come home from the hospital and Dad has put Celia to bed, he tells Ant and Adrian to stop laughing, and then he makes us promise that we’ll say nothing about the birthing pool or Carol or the false alarm when Celia is in the room.
    We promise.
    I think Dad is glad we’re here. He cooks haggis, even though Celia doesn’t let him eat haggis anymore. Dad says it’s traditional to eat haggis in Scotland and that he’s only cooking it for us and he’s not going to eat it, but I catch him picking some off Ant’s plate when he’s dishing up. I don’t say anything and Dad winks  at me and says, ‘Good lad.’
    Haggis doesn’t taste as bad as you’d think. He serves it with mashed potatoes and turnips and brown sauce. Celia has to stay in her bedroom on account of the smell.
    Faith says, ‘We won’t stay long.’
    Dad says, ‘Stay as long as you like.’
    Faith says, ‘OK. We’ll stay for a week. If that’s OK.’
    Dad says, ‘Of course, of course, that’s fine. Stay as long as you like.’ He always says the same thing a couple of times. Like he doesn’t think anyone’s listening.
    I’m watching a programme about pandas. I don’t know what they’re going to do when the bamboo runs out.
    Dad says, ‘I took my eye off the ball for a while.’
    Faith says, ‘You’ve been busy.’
    ‘Once the baby comes and things settle down, I’ll pitch in more. I’ll come down more often. Things will be better. I’ll be better. I promise.’ He puts his hand on top of Faith’s and they sit there on the couch like that for a while.
    Faith says, ‘I still can’t believe it.’
    Dad says, ‘Your mother and I should have told you. A long time ago.’
    ‘No, not about that. About Mam, I mean. I still can’t believe she’s gone.’
    Dad says nothing to that.
    Faith says, ‘Sometimes I forget, you know. Something happens. In a lecture or at band practice or something. And I think: Mam will get such a kick out of this.’
    It’s a good job Ant and Adrian weren’t pandas because only one of them would have survived. The mother chooses which one. I don’t think Mam would have been able to choose. She said one was as bad as the other.
    Dad says something about ‘the boy’. He hardly ever calls me Milo.
    Faith says,