Clean Break (18 page)

‘What are you smirking at, Em?' said Gran.

My smile soured to a scowl. I still didn't say a single word. I didn't even say goodnight when I went up to bed.

Mum waited until Vita and Maxie were asleep and then she crept in to see me. She eased Vita over to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers with me.

‘Gran's sorry, Em.'

‘She didn't say so.'

‘No, well, she doesn't ever
say
sorry, you know that. But she knows she went too far.'

‘I hate her,' I said.

‘No you don't.'

‘She hates me!'

‘Of course she doesn't. She loves you. She loves all of us. That's why she gets so worked up. She's not really cross with us, she's cross with your dad.
Both
your dads!' Mum gave a little sniff. ‘It was so weird seeing your real dad again, Em. He seems so different now. Maybe he was just horrible with us. He looked like he was happy with that other woman
and the little boys. I'm sure he doesn't batter them.'

Mum sniffed again. I felt her cheeks in the dark to see if she was crying.

‘Don't be scared, Mum. If he comes round to batter us we'll call the police, quick.'

‘I'm not worried about that, love. No, I'm just thinking, maybe there's something about me that makes men go funny. Maybe I'm just a useless partner.'

‘You're a brilliant partner, Mum. You didn't make him horrid to us. He was just mean and he wanted to shout and scare us. He
hit
us,' I said. ‘Mum, I
wish
he wasn't my real dad.'

‘He wasn't all bad, pet. Maybe you'd like him if you got to know him now.'

I wanted to think he was totally bad. I didn't want to like him. I loved my
new
dad – even though he'd gone off and left us.

‘I'm never ever living with any man,' I said.

‘That's silly, pet. You can't say that just because things haven't worked out for me.'

‘No one would have me anyway!'

‘Of course they would! You're a lovely lovely girl.'

‘All the boys at school think I'm rubbish. They call me Fatso and The Blob and they all puff out their cheeks, imitating me.'

‘Oh darling, that's horrible.'

‘It's OK. I call them names back. But I am a Fatso Blob. I take after my real dad, don't I?'

‘You're not a bit like your dad. You're a sweet kind gentle caring girl.'

‘I
look
like him. If I wore a black vest and jeans I'd be just like a little replica.'

‘You're
nothing
like him,' Mum lied. ‘You're not like him, you're not like me. You're
you
, my lovely Em. I think it's rot we're all supposed to take after our parents. I certainly don't want to be like Gran!' Mum paused. ‘For pity's sake, Julie,' she said, in Gran's thin whiny voice.

We both burst out laughing. Vita woke up and sleepily complained that we were shaking the bed and would we please stop now, immediately.

‘I think
Vita
takes after Gran,' I whispered to Mum. ‘She's bossier than her already.'

Gran nagged just as much the next morning, when we were all rushing off to school and work, but that evening she made us spaghetti bolognese, with strawberries and ice cream for pudding. She gave me an extra scoop of ice cream
and
let me scrape round the empty carton afterwards.

‘But it's back on that diet tomorrow, Em, OK?' Gran said.

I did wonder about trying harder. I still mostly chose chips instead of salad at school dinners but
I didn't buy secret supplies of KitKats and Mars bars and Smarties with my pocket money now. I still wanted them desperately but I wanted to save all my treat money. I wanted to save up so I could pay Gran some of the money we owed. Then she'd maybe stop moaning.

Mum was trying hard too, taking on as much extra work as she could. The Pink Palace didn't open till midday now because they got so few morning customers. Mum made herself some ‘Good Fairy' cards using stationery from leftover Fairyland stock, saying she was willing to fly round to clients' houses and cut and blow-dry their hair between nine and twelve. She started to get booked up most mornings, and she had a special regular job on Wednesdays at an old people's day centre, snipping her way through silvery locks, one old lady after another at a special £5 rate.

‘I have to cram as many in as possible, doing them for that rate,' said Mum. ‘It's a bit like sheep-shearing. I'll be taking hold of them by their Scholl sandals, throwing them over my shoulder and clipping their perms into crewcuts soon.'

Mum got up even earlier on Saturday mornings, doing special wedding hairdos, often fitting in the bride, chief bridesmaid and the bride's mother before rushing to start her stint at the Palace.

‘Imagine if I got mixed up, and dyed all the
wedding clients purple and magenta and gave twee mother-of-the-bride shampoo and sets to all the goths at the Palace,' said Mum.

She tried to make a joke of it, but she was so tired now that she fell asleep as soon as she sat down on the sofa when she got home.

‘Mum's no fun now,' said Vita. ‘She won't make me up like a grown-up lady or play Fairy Queens or do
anything
now, she just falls asleep.'

‘Yes, I was telling her about this bad boy who pushed me and she didn't
listen
, her eyes kept closing,' Maxie said indignantly.

‘Mum's tired out,' I said. ‘Leave her alone.
I'll
make you up and play Fairy Queens with you, Vita. Just let me give Maxie a cuddle first and find out all about this bad boy.'

I knew I had to be very grown up and understanding but
I
wished Mum wasn't so worn out. She was skinnier than ever, with dark circles under her eyes.

Gran was worried about her too.

‘You're exhausting yourself, Julie. You don't have to take on quite so many clients. Never mind the blooming money. I wanted your deadbeat missing bloke to pay his debts. I didn't mean
you
should work yourself to death on his behalf.'

‘I'm fine, Mum,' Mum murmured, rubbing her forehead and yawning.

‘You need a holiday. We all do,' said Gran.

‘Yes, well, holidays cost money,' said Mum. ‘We'll have to make do this year. Maybe I'll be able to take the kids on a day out here and there.'

I started to think and think and think about a summer holiday. Jenny was going to the seaside in France, ending up with a day in EuroDisney. Yvonne was going to Spain for a week with her mum, and CenterParcs for three days with her dad.

I couldn't help daydreaming for days about Dad inviting us on holiday with him. We didn't have to go
away
anywhere. We'd have been happy to stay in one room with him (just so long as Sarah wasn't there too).

I kept thinking of that evening at the seaside. It sparkled in my mind like the fairy lights on the end of the pier. I wondered what would have happened if we'd stayed the night like Dad suggested. Would he have kept us? Sometimes, when Mum was tired and Gran was snappy, I'd wish and wish we could live with Dad instead.

Then I'd feel desperately guilty and try harder than ever to be good to Mum. I didn't always try to be good to
Gran
.

‘I
wish
I could take Mum on holiday,' I whispered to Dancer.

‘Lapland's pretty in the summer,' she said.

‘I'd like to take Mum somewhere really warm
and sunny so she'd lie and sunbathe and get brown and look happy again,' I said.

‘You could try wishing,' said Dancer.

I took my hand out of her head and looked at my beautiful emerald ring. I held it up so that it caught the light and wished as hard as I could.

Then I looked at the ring again.

I kept on looking at it.

I wondered how much emerald rings cost. Dad said he'd bought it second hand, but Mum and Gran said they thought it was still worth hundreds of pounds.

If I had hundreds of pounds we could all go on holiday.

I thought about it day after day. I loved my emerald ring so much. It was the best present in the whole world. I wasn't allowed to wear it very often. Obviously I couldn't wear it to school, and Mum didn't like me wearing it outside just in case I lost it. I wore it at home whenever I could, but mostly it was kept in its little box, hidden in my knicker drawer in case of burglars.

I couldn't bear the thought of selling it so that I'd lost it for ever. But maybe, just maybe, I could
pawn
it?

I'd read about pawn shops in one of my favourite Jenna Williams books,
The Victorian Project
. I knew loads and loads of poor people pawned their
rings and their watches and even their best Sunday suits back in olden times. I wasn't sure you could still pawn things nowadays.

There was an old jewellery shop in an alley by the market place. It had three golden balls hanging above its doorway. It
used
to be a pawn shop. Maybe it still was one. And
maybe
it might be interested in my beautiful emerald ring.

I didn't know how I would ever raise the money to get it back again, but at least it wouldn't be selling it for ever. Maybe they'd display it in the window so I could go and look at it.

I got my chance the very next Saturday, when Mum was doing a wedding and then going on to the Palace. Gran had to take Vita, Maxie and me into town to buy new sandals. We all needed them badly. I was still stomping around in my big lace-up winter shoes. They were so small for me I felt like I was lacing my toes into corsets every time I tied them up. Vita was wearing her winter buckle shoes too. My last year's sandals were still way too big for her, and she insisted she'd sooner go barefoot than wear my horrible scuffed cast-offs anyway. Maxie had Vita's old sandals and he didn't mind wearing them one bit, but they were pink jelly plastic. Maxie adored them but when he wore them to school everyone said they were girls' shoes and sniggered at him.

It was a very long and fraught morning. Gran lost her temper, Maxie howled, Vita sobbed and I despaired, because my new flat black sandals were so big they looked like flippers.

‘For pity's sake, what a fuss!' said Gran. ‘Let's go up to the food court and have a cup of tea. I'll treat all three of you to a cake if you'll only shut up, the lot of you.'

‘Um, Gran, you said shut up!' said Maxie.

‘Can't we go down to McDonald's instead? I want a McFlurry ice cream,' said Vita.

My mouth was watering at the thought of cake
or
ice cream, but this was my big chance.

‘I'm not going to have anything. I want to stick to my diet,' I said.

‘That's the ticket, Em,' said Gran, looking surprised.

‘But it's torture watching everyone else eat, so please may I go and look at the bears being made in the Bear Factory while you're in the food court?'

Gran hesitated. ‘Well, if you promise you'll go straight there and not talk to any strangers and then come right back here in fifteen minutes . . . then OK,' said Gran. ‘Only take that blooming glove puppet off your hand – you look gormless, a great big girl like you.'

‘No, Dancer wants to see the bears too,' I said. ‘Don't you, Dancer? You want to see the special
bear ballet dancers with their pink satin shoes, isn't that right?'

I made Dancer nod emphatically, her antlers waving in the air.

‘It's not fair, she's
my
puppet,' said Vita.

‘Yes, give her back to Vita,' said Gran, but she was distracted by Maxie screaming at the escalators.

I dashed off before she could stop me. If I took Dancer off she'd see I was wearing the emerald ring on my finger. I wanted Dancer's company anyway. It felt a bit weird and scary going right out of the Flowerfields shopping centre and over to the market place. I knew Gran would kill me if she ever found out.

I ran all the way to the jewellery shop, my heart thumping. I checked on the one, two, three golden balls dangling above the door. I wasted two of my precious minutes pretending to look at the window display, too scared to step inside.

‘Go
on
,' said Dancer, and she put her front hooves on the handle and pulled the door open.

I stood in the middle of the shop while fifty clocks ticked and tocked at me all around the room. An old man and a young man stood at either side, behind counters. The young man sighed at the sight of me, but the old man cocked his head on one side and looked obliging.

‘Can I help you, young lady?' he said.

‘I hope so.' I moved towards him, trying to tug Dancer off. My hand was so hot and sticky it was a struggle. ‘Is this a pawn shop?'

‘Well, we do offer a loan service. But not to children, I'm afraid,' said the old man.

I thought quickly. ‘Oh, this isn't for me. This is for my mum. She's too embarrassed to come herself. She wants to know how much she'd get if she pawned this emerald ring.' I peeled the last piece of Dancer off and flapped my hot hand in the air, flourishing my beautiful emerald. Its green glow sparkled all around the room.

The young man clucked his teeth. ‘Does your mum know you've got her ring?' he said.

‘Of course she does. I
said
. Do you think I'm a liar?' I said, getting hotter and hotter.

‘May I see the ring?' said the old man, still courteous.

I had to lick my finger until it was slippery enough to ease the ring off. The old man took hold of it gingerly. He held it to the light. Then he shook his head at me.

‘Why don't you go home and stop wasting our time,' he said.

‘What do you mean? Won't you take my emerald –
Mum's
emerald?'

‘It isn't an emerald. It's green glass in a gilt setting. You used to be able to buy them in
Woolworths for a shilling. It's not worth much more now.'