So Brave, So Proud (AKA Hero's Lament)

Tallulah should be smiling, because it's her fifth birthday. That means balloons, and cake, and presents.

It's also Saturday, which means no school. And, thanks to what happened last week, every kid in her class wants to be at her party. Every kid in the school wants to be there, but the garden isn't quite that big.

Kids are running about all over the sloping lawn in the hot sunshine, giggling and squealing. There's more kids on the bouncy castle, which is gently roaring and ruining daddy's grass. Daddy doesn't care. Not today.

Tallulah should be smiling, because her mummy and daddy have hugged her tight a hundred times and told her they are so, so, so proud of her.

She should be smiling because her little sister, Annabella, not quite two years old, is home from the hospital. She's really truly okay, she's going to be fine. The doctors said so. The doctors also said she was a very lucky little girl. They were keen to meet Tallulah and tell her this. Your baby sister is a lucky girl! She's lucky to have you looking out for her. She's lucky to have a big sister who is so brave!

Tallulah doesn't feel brave at all. She feels small, and the world feels big and heavy.

She should be excited, because police officers, firefighters and paramedics have all turned up to her party. Not people dressing up, no, real live ones. In the right kind of car or truck, with the flashing lights on top.

They all beam at her, and tell her she's special, and a hero, and she's so brave, and she should be so proud (there it is again). She gets to try on their hats and sit up front in each of the vehicles.

They all seem to be vying, in a good-natured way, which profession will "get her" when she grows up. They are all convinced that she will grow up to be an incredible person who helps people. (No pressure, kid.)

It goes a little something like this:

"I bet you want to be a police officer when you grow up up, don't you?" says the policeman lady. "It's all about helping people, being in the police!"

Tallulah tries a shy smile, and doesn't feel brave enough to say, I thought it was about doing handcuffs on people and putting them in prison, which is what she is really thinking. She also doesn't say, No, I want to be a vet, which is what she said last time someone asked.

The fireman sounds too hearty when he says, "Oh no, Tallulah is going to be a firefighter, aren't you kid? Rescuing people! Already got a talent for it!"

The paramedics butt in, very jolly, and say their piece too, but Tallulah's eyes have glazed over and she's stopped listening. She's wondering why she couldn't just have a princess like some of the girls in her class at school.

Maybe some of the grown-ups notice how she's not really responding to this hearty banter. It must all be a bit overwhelming for her, they think. Perhaps, if they're very astute, they wonder if Tallulah keeps remembering how Annabella looked last week, when she dragged her floppy and not breathing, out of the paddling pool. This is not the sort of memory that will make a person smile. It's also not one to go away easily.

People have told her she did the right thing, and she saved Annabella's life, (and she's such a lucky girl, and everyone is so proud of you). Dragging her out of the water, and running to fetch mummy, that was the right thing to do! The trouble is, these phrases don't chase away the weighted look stamped around Tallulah's eyes.

One of the other mummies said to her, "It sounds ever so scary. Were you scared?" Tallulah nods, her eyes sparkling.

The mummy can see how shy Tallulah is, and she glanced round at the big party with all these people. "You need to be a different kind of brave, now. Just for a little while."

Tallulah looks round at the paper plates, and beaming grownups sweating in the heat. She looks at the happy kids, the streamers, the big jumble of shoes next to the bouncy castle, and the big wedges of fancy cake. The sunshine beats down on all of it.

I can't tell them I did it. I can't tell them I was playing drownings after Mummy went inside.

The other mummy is still looking at Tallulah with an encouraging smile. Tallulah looks back. She just wants to run away from all this stuff, and play with her dolls in her room.

It turns out almost killing someone plants a seed of wisdom, even at this tender age. Tallulah is realising, though she can't put words to it yet, that it wouldn't matter if she did run. That image of Annabella, white and limp with her eyes rolled back (my fault my fault really my fault) would always be there no matter where she went.