Apple of My Eye by Patrick Redmond

not.’
    ‘Yes she is. She’s in a loony bin.’
    ‘She’s on holiday.’
    ‘She’s in a loony bin. Everyone knows.’
    ‘She’s not!’
    Alice’s eyes began to shine. ‘Loony mother! Loony mother!’ Again her gang took up the chant, while on the river the yellow dog jumped into the water to chase the ducks that swam by the boat. ‘Samson!’ bellowed his owner. ‘Come back ’ere!’
    ‘Loony mother!’ continued Alice. She started to dance around in front of Susan, pulling crazy faces. ‘Loony! Loony!’
    Susan grabbed Alice by the hair, marched her off the path and into the field of cows. ‘Get off!’ Alice yelled. ‘Leave her alone!’ shouted Alice’s friends. ‘Susan Ramsey! Stop that this instant!’ bellowed Mrs Young. Susan ignored them all. She dragged Alice on until shefound the perfect spot then shoved her hard. Alice fell forward, landing on her stomach in a cow pat much to the surprise of the cow chewing grass near by.
    ‘Cows eat people covered in poo,’ Susan announced. ‘Come on, cows. Lunch!’
    Alice jumped to her feet and ran screaming across the field, terrifying the cows, which parted before her like the Red Sea before Moses. ‘Alice Wetherby, come back here,’ cried Mrs Young, giving chase as fast as her ample frame would allow and looking rather like a lumbering cow herself.
    Susan began to laugh. Others did the same while Samson emerged from the river, shaking himself dry and drenching them all.
    ‘She said things about Mum.’
    ‘What things?’
    ‘Horrid things.’
    It was six o’clock. She sat on her father’s knee in the living room of their home. Now that term had started she was living with him again.
    ‘What things, Susie?’
    ‘That Mum was a loony. That she was in a loony bin.’
    ‘She’s on holiday.’
    ‘That’s what I told Alice.’
    ‘Good girl.’ He smiled down at her. His eyes were grey, his hair light brown. Her colouring came from her mother. She didn’t want to upset him but she had to know.
    ‘What’s a breakdown?’
    The smile faltered.
    ‘She
is
in a loony bin, isn’t she?’
    ‘Susie …’
    ‘Isn’t she?’
    ‘Listen …’
    ‘Is it my fault?’
    ‘Oh, Susie.’ He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. ‘No, my darling, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.’
    She rested her head against his chest. On his finger was a signet ring that had once belonged to her grandfather. She twisted it back and forward, watching it catch the light. ‘What’s a breakdown, Dad?’
    ‘Nothing bad, Susie. No matter what anyone says. It means that Mum … that Mum …’
    ‘What?’
    Silence. His eyes were thoughtful. She waited expectantly.
    ‘When you fought with Alice were you scared?’
    ‘I’m not scared of her.’
    ‘But Charlotte is, isn’t she?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You still like Charlotte, though, don’t you? You don’t think bad things about her because she was scared.’
    ‘No. She’s my best friend.’
    ‘When someone has a breakdown, Susie, it means that they’ve become scared of everything. That’s what’s happened to Mum. So she’s gone away to learn how tofeel brave again and when she does she’ll come back home.’
    Again he smiled. A reassuring gesture. One she did not return.
    ‘What if she gets scared again?’
    ‘She won’t.’
    ‘But what if she does?’
    ‘She won’t, I promise.’
    ‘But what if she does? Will she have another breakdown? I don’t want her to go away again. Not ever.’
    ‘She won’t get scared, Susie. Shall I tell you why?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because we won’t let it happen. We’ll protect her. Just like you protected Charlotte.’
    She nodded. They would. No matter what it took, they would.
    After supper they walked by the river. The same path she had taken earlier in the day. A wind was rising, sending banks of clouds galloping across the sky.
    They sat by the river bank, dangling their feet in the water, throwing pieces of bread to the ducks while the last