The Illustrated Mum (10 page)

It was the most beautiful room any two girls could have. I didn't really want it cluttered up with moth-eaten old toys. I just wished we'd been able to keep more of our stuff. Sometimes the new expensive things were reclaimed. Sometimes they got stolen. Sometimes we had to do a moonlight flit and travel light.

I thought of all the old toys scattered over half of London and beyond and felt sad.

“I wonder what's happened to them all?” I said.

I imagined them scooped up in a rubbish cart and
spewed out on some awful rubbish dump with smelly takeaway cartons leaking all over them and seagulls pecking at Jock's glass eyes and rats chewing the last of Barbie's hair.

Star let me come into her bed when we heard midnight strike and Marigold still wasn't home. I fell asleep nuzzling into the bears on her back and dreamt we were on a rubbish cart, Star and me, and the dustmen combed Star's hair with their dirty fingers and licked her face clean and stuck her up on the front of the cart as their lucky mascot. But they chucked me out on the rubbish heap and I was stuck in the muck screaming for Marigold but she wouldn't come. She wouldn't come for me no matter how many times I cried her name‘

“Marigold!”

“Here I am, Dol. It's OK, I'm here. It's all right, darling. Oh God, it's righter than right! Wake up properly. Star, sweetheart, wake
up
!”

Marigold had put the light on. It was so bright I could see nothing at first. I clung to her, my eyes little cracks in my face. I could smell the drink on her breath but she still seemed fine, though she was trembling. I held her tight but she wasn't concentrating on me.

“Star! Star, sit up, my sweet. There!” Marigold leant across me and brushed Star's hair out of her eyes. “Star, I'd like you to meet someone.” Marigold's voice was so shaky with excitement she could hardly get the words out. “It's Micky, Star, your father!”

We sat bolt upright, blinking. We stared at him. It was as if Princess Diana herself had whizzed down from heaven to see us. Marigold had been telling us about Micky all our lives but we'd never quite believed in him.

“You're really Micky?” Star said, staring at this stranger.

Though he didn't really seem strange. He was tall and thin like Star, with long fair hair that tangled around his shoulders. He had cornflower-blue eyes and a straight nose and a crinkly smile and a dimple in just one of his cheeks. He was wearing a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket and black jeans and black boots. He wore a thin silver cuff on one wrist and an ornate silver ring on either hand.

“Like … my dad?” Star whispered.

He didn't look like anyone's dad. He looked like a rock star.

Micky glanced at Marigold. She nodded.

“Like … your dad, Star,” he said.

“Wow,” said Star. “I can't believe it.”

“I can't either,” said Micky. “I didn't even realize I
was
a dad. This is so amazing. First I meet up with you, Marigold. And now I've got a daughter!” He looked at me for a moment. “Hey, you're not my daughter too, little girl?”

“No, that's Dolphin,” said Marigold.

“Hi, Dolphin. Cool name,” said Micky. His eyes had already swiveled back to Star. He seemed dazzled by her.

“I told you,” Marigold said to Micky. “I told you,” Marigold said to Star. She was so excited she was practically jumping up and down in her strappy sandals.

Star and Micky just stared at each other, as if they were learning their looks off by heart. Star and Micky and Marigold seemed caught up in a big rainbow bubble floating right up into the air.

I was outside the bubble. Down on the ground. Not part of the family.

“Do you want to get up, girls?” said Marigold. “I could fix us something to eat. Are you hungry, Micky?”

“We ate the chicken, Dol and me,” said Star. “Hey,
how did you meet? I mean, there must have been thousands at the concert.”

“Thousands and thousands,” said Marigold. “But I found him. I
knew
I would. I even knew where to look for him.”

“I know, you looked into your crystal ball,” said Micky.

Marigold laughed delightedly. “You remembered it!”

She had this beautiful sorceress tattooed right on her stomach, with long swirly hair and flowing robes. She gazed intently into a crystal ball, which was really Marigold's navel, the black outline going neatly all round it to make the crystal globe.

“It was my idea, that sorceress with her crystal ball,” said Micky. “Let's see her then.”

Marigold pulled up her top, giggling. We got a glimpse too.

“She's great. I do a sorceress too, but she bends the other way and she's more Celtic,” said Micky, holding out his ring.

“You made your ring?” said Star.

“Micky has his own jewelry business now,” Marigold said proudly. “He does all his own designs.”

Micky handed the ring to Star.

“It's beautiful,” she said, holding it reverently, examining every detail. I tried to look too, but she nudged me. “You're in my light, Dol.” She fingered the intricate design, tracing it delicately. She even felt inside, touching the whorled band still warm from his finger.

“Can I try it on?”

“Sure.”

“It's way too big,” Star said, as the ring swiveled round and round.

“That's because you're so ultrasmall,” said Micky. “Exactly how old are you, Star? Are you really thirteen? You look kind of little.”

“Your little girl,” Marigold breathed, as if she were saying a prayer.

Star tried so hard to look old for her age that I thought she'd get angry but she didn't seem to mind at all. She looked up at Micky through her blond hair. My chest was so tight I could hardly breathe. I knew I should be happy Star had found her father but I couldn't bear the way he was looking at her.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” said Micky.

Maybe he didn't just mean he was lucky to have discovered a daughter. Maybe he meant he was so glad he had the pretty blond fairy sister for his daughter, not the plain stupid goblin.

“We're all lucky lucky lucky,” Marigold chanted, dancing round the room.

She looked so beautiful, her red hair flying, arms up, her body snaking this way and that like the sorceress on her stomach, but Micky gave her an odd little glance.

“Lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky!” Marigold sang.

She saw my face and pulled me out of bed, trying to get me to dance with her. I stumbled and lurched, feeling
a fool and worrying about my nightie, which was much too short for serious dancing, and very grubby too.

“Come on, Dol, dance! It's your luck too,” said Marigold. “Your special four-leaved clover. Hey, maybe I'll design a new clover tattoo, with four leaves, my new lucky number, four, the perfect balanced number, and we have perfect balance, don't we, darling?” she said, whirling me round faster and faster.

“I think we need to eat, Marigold. You seem ever so slightly and ultradelightfully smashed,” said Micky.

“I'm not smashed, I'm not shattered, I'm not crushed, I've been broken into shards but now I'm whole again, as good as new, better than new,” Marigold burbled.

“I'll see if I can fix us something,” Star said quickly, though we both knew there were just a few shreds of lettuce and only enough bread for tomorrow's breakfast toast.

“How about pizza?” Micky said.

It was the middle of the night but he knew the number of a twenty-four-hour takeaway pizza place and phoned it on his mobile.

“What's your favorite pizza topping, sweetheart?” he asked Star.

“Extra cheese and double pineapple.”

He rocked back, miming astonishment.

“Mine too! I just don't
believe
this!”

“It's mine as well,” said Marigold, though she didn't even like pizza.

“What about you, Dolphin?”

I didn't know what to say. I liked cheese and pineapple too, it was what we always had, but it would sound so stupid if I asked for it too, like some sad little parrot.

“I want … mushroom. And peppers. Please,” I said.

It was a mistake. We had to wait ages for the pizzas to arrive. I had that sick shaky feeling I always have when I get up in the night. The savory smell of the pizzas was almost overwhelming. Star and Micky started devouring theirs eagerly, swapping long lists of food likes and dislikes, laughing at every similarity, even the most obvious. Who
doesn't
like chocolate and hate Brussel sprouts?

I realized too late that I hated mushrooms. The ones in my pizza were slimey and gray and half hidden in the pizza toppings. It was as if a little band of slugs had crawled into the box and nestled into a pizza bed. I tried to nibble my way round each one, my throat tense in case I accidentally swallowed one. The peppers weren't much better. They were bright red and green and looked pretty but they tasted hot and horrible.

“Leave it,” Star whispered. She looked apologetically at Micky. “She's sleepy.”

Marigold was only picking at hers. She went to the cupboard and bent down. She took a long gulp of vodka, her back to us. Perhaps she thought she was being discreet.

I could hardly bear to watch her. “I'll have some too then,” said Micky, shaking his head at her.

“Just a little nightcap,” said Marigold. “It's bedtime. Look at poor little Dol, she can't keep her eyes open.”

“Well … I suppose …” Micky swallowed the last of his pizza and stood up. He reached out and touched Star's long shining hair. “When can I come and see you again?” he asked, as if he were dating her.

“What?” said Marigold, shaking her head. She took another drink openly. “Micky, what are you on about? You're not
going
?”

“Sweetheart, it's two in the morning.”

“Stop it! You're going to stay forever,” said Marigold. “You're staying here with us.”

“I'll come back tomorrow,” said Micky.

“No!” Marigold said it too loudly. “No, you can't go now!” She was nearly shouting.

Micky gave her that little look again. He stayed on his feet. But then Star reached out and took hold of his hand.

“Please stay,” she whispered.

His face softened.

“OK,” he said, and I saw him squeeze her hand tight.

If she'd whispered, “Please fly out the window,” he'd have soared straight through the glass.

Marigold took him off with her. Star and I went to bed but neither of us could sleep. I tucked myself up tight, my silk scarf over my face.

“I can't believe it,” Star whispered.

“I suppose he's … like she always said.”

“He's
better.
I never believed her. And yet she was right all along. No wonder she's always gone on about him. And he's my
dad
.”

“Yes, but he hasn't been like a dad, has he?” I said, some of the sour feeling in my stomach tainting my words.

“How do you mean?”

“He hasn't been in touch or taken you out or done any dad things, has he? I mean, I'm not criticizing,
my
dad hasn't either, it's just’

“It's just rubbish,” said Star. “Because he didn't even know I existed. You heard him. He was utterly taken aback. I bet he never even knew Marigold was going to have a baby. They must have split up before she told him.”

“He left her,” I said. I curled up even smaller, pulling the scarf so taut on my face it flattened my nose.

Star didn't answer at first. I wondered if she'd gone to sleep. But about a minute later she said, “He's not going to leave me.”

She did go to sleep soon after. I couldn't sleep at all. I could hear Marigold and Micky. I slid right down
under the bedclothes, the scarf a silk mask. It wavered and tickled every time I drew breath. I lay there long into the night, breathing in, breathing out.

Star woke me early in the morning.

“What are you doing right down there, Dol? You're mad, you'll suffocate. Come
out
.”

“Sleepy.”

“Come on, wake up! Don't you remember? My dad's here.”

“He might have gone now.”

“No, he wouldn't.” But there was sudden fear in her voice. She moved off my bed. I heard the soft rustling sound of her brushing her beautiful hair. Then she pattered across the room.

“You can't go and see,” I mumbled. “Not if he's with Marigold. She'll get mad.”

“He's my
dad
,” Star said through her teeth, and she left the room.

I sat up and listened hard. She'd shut our door so I couldn't hear much. Star's voice, whispering. And then his voice too. I felt a stab in my stomach. I'd wanted him to have sneaked off. I knew that was wicked. I felt a second stab because I was such a horrible sister.

I couldn't hear Marigold. But she generally couldn't get up in the morning. Star and Micky seemed to be in the kitchen now. I heard the whine in the pipe when someone turned on the tap. My mouth was dry with the taste of last night's pizza. I wanted a drink of water.

I thought maybe I shouldn't barge in on them. I knew Star would want to be alone with him in the kitchen. But it was my kitchen too. And I was very very thirsty.

I got up and went into the kitchen, feeling shy and stupid. Micky was making a cup of coffee, wearing his black clothes, looking fresh and washed though his cheeks were shadowy with stubble. Star was sitting on the table sipping a glass of water and swinging her bare legs. They were deep in conversation but they both stopped when I appeared.

“I want a drink of water,” I said, like a stupid toddler.

“Sure,” said Micky, pouring me one. “Now, Star and I were just discussing breakfast.”

“We have cornflakes. But there isn't any milk,” I said.

“I can go round to the corner shop,” said Star. “I think it opens early on Saturdays.”

“You can't go out and do the shopping,” said Micky fondly.

He looked as if he thought she was too little to shop. I wanted to tell him that Star had done the shopping ever since I could remember. She was much better at it than Marigold. I opened my mouth but Star glared at me. She obviously liked him thinking she was just a dumb little kid.

“I thought we'd go out for breakfast,” said Micky. We blinked at him. You could go out for lunch, out
for dinner. We'd never thought about going out for breakfast before.