The Illustrated Mum (12 page)

“Black onyx,” said Marigold.

“No. It's a star sapphire,” said Star, saying the name as if it were holy.

“It's not. Sapphires are blue, everyone knows that,” I said.

“
Star
sapphires are different. They're black and they look like they've got a star trapped inside. Micky told me,” said Star.

She seemed to have managed to do a lot of talking with Micky. She sometimes sneaked the mobile phone into her schoolbag before Marigold was up. She certainly didn't seem surprised at the present that arrived early on Saturday morning. It was two children's tickets to Brighton and back, dated that day.

“What are they?” I said stupidly.

“Oh, Dol, wake up. Come on. Let's hurry. Pack your nightie, we're staying overnight. Ugh, on second thought, don't, it's way too gungy. You'd better just sleep in your knickers. Now, toothbrush, hairbrush, clean underwear …” Star's things were all to hand, suspiciously spick and span. She'd known about this all right.

“Isn't there another ticket?” I asked, looking in the envelope.

“They're both here, with Micky's note,” said Star.

“No, I mean a third ticket. For Marigold.”

“For me?” said Marigold, stumbling into our bedroom.

She looked pretty hopeless. She'd been drinking a
lot since last Saturday, and talking nonstop about Micky. Talking nonstop
to
him too, whenever she could grab the phone away from Star.

Star shook her head. Marigold went white and ran to the bathroom. We heard her being sick.

“She's upset,” I said.

“She's drunk too much,” said Star. “Please hurry up, Dol. It'll be much easier if we go now. We can phone Micky from Victoria to say which train we're getting and he'll meet us.”

“We can't just leave her!”

“We can. She leaves us,” said Star.

This was true enough. But it still seemed too terrible a thing to do to her.

She looked worse then ever when she came out of the bathroom at last. She was shivering in her petticoat, holding her own arms tight. She looked at the things Star was quickly stuffing in her shoulder bag.

“We're going to Brighton for the weekend,” Marigold said. “Micky told me on the phone.”

“It's just Dol and me,” said Star. Her voice wobbled even though her face was firm.

“And me,” said Marigold. “Whew! I don't know what's up with me. Some tummy bug. Hope you girls don't get it.
Right!
I'd better get my act together and get packing.”

“There are just two tickets, Marigold. One for Dol and one for me,” said Star.

“Oh,” said Marigold, taking the envelope and peering inside, then tearing it right open. “Well, it can't be helped. I don't mind forking out for my own ticket.”

“Marigold. It's just Dol and me that are invited. I thought Micky explained.”

“Explained what?” I said.

“We're staying with him.”

“Well, I can stay with him too,” said Marigold.

Star sighed. She clenched her fists. She swallowed.

“His girlfriend will be there.” “His girlfriend?” I said, twitching.

“
I'm
his girlfriend,” said Marigold, running her fingers through her hair, trying to twist it into place.

“He's got this other girlfriend who lives with him, Marigold. Sîan.”

“Sîan?” said Marigold, as if it were some disgusting swear word.

“He said he told you all about her.”

“Yes, he did mention some girl. But he's the only guy I've ever truly loved, so I don't care if he's had a few girls since. He wouldn't be human if he hadn't. But I'm the one he went looking for. I'm the mother of his
child
. Of course I've got to come too. I've got to, haven't I, to see you're both all right.”

“We'll be fine, Marigold,” said Star. “Dol and I had better get going. Micky said we should try and get the ten o'clock train.”

“Please. Wait for me. Let me come too,” Marigold said, rushing into her bedroom, putting her best beaded cardigan on over her old petticoat but buttoning it up all wrong so that it hung lopsidedly.

“Why can't she come too?” I growled at Star.

“There's nowhere for her to stay. Micky said.”

“Micky said, Micky said. I'm getting a bit sick of your Micky,” I said. “He doesn't own the railways. He doesn't own the whole of Brighton.”

“He does own his own flat. It's very tiny. He's bought these two camp beds for us and we'll be sleeping in his living room and he and Sîan have the bedroom. There isn't room for Marigold.”

“I could sleep on his sofa. Or this Sîan could. Look, if I'm going she doesn't
need
to be there, acting like a nanny or whatever.”

“She lives there most of the time. She and Micky have been together for more than two years.”

“I'm his girlfriend,” said Marigold, sticking her bare feet in her high heels and trying to pull her cardigan straight.

“Don't be so stupid, Marigold. You only knew him a few
weeks
. He told me.”

“He stayed here last Saturday night!”

“Because he wanted to see
me
!” Star shouted. “And he wants to see me this weekend too and I'm not going to let you muck it all up. You're
not
coming.”

“I'm not coming either,” I said.

They both blinked.

“I'm not coming,” I repeated.

“Don't be daft, Dol. Of course you're coming.”

“Micky doesn't want to see me. And I don't want to see him either. I think he's horrible. And I think you're horrible too, Star. Marigold and me will stay home. You go off to Brighton with your precious Micky. See if we care.”

“Right,” said Star. “
Right
.”

She picked up her bag and walked out of the room. We heard our door slam, footsteps hurrying downstairs, and then the thunk of the front door closing.

It was very quiet in our flat. Marigold stood half dressed, shivering, still tugging at her cardigan.

“Dol?” she said, tears brimming.

“It's OK,” I said. “Look, you've buttoned yourself all skew-whiff. Come here.”

I did her buttons up properly. She still looked dazed, tears dripping down her face.

“We'll have a lovely time, just you and me,” I said. I hugged her tight, so that all the little beads in her cardigan dug in hard against my skin.

I couldn't help hoping that Star would suddenly come rushing back. She'd say Marigold could come too. She'd insist I go with her. She'd stay at home with us.

She didn't do any of these things.

Marigold and I were left on our own. I wanted her
to be pleased with me that I hadn't gone with Star. But she started to get things twisted in her head, acting as if it were
my
fault she wasn't invited to Brighton.

I argued with her and she got really angry and started yelling, screaming as if she'd never stop, her eyes little green slits, her mouth a great red cavern, spittle running down her chin. She kept waving her arms in the air and I was scared she was going to hit me even though she'd never smacked me in my life. I tried talking back to her but she was making so much noise she didn't hear me.

There was a big thumping at our door. Marigold took no notice of that either, so I didn't answer it. I knew who it would be.

Mrs. Luft started hissing through the letterbox.

“If you don't stop that crazy noise I'll call the police and they'll get you carted off to the loony bin where you belong!”

Marigold heard that. She sprang to the door and flung it open. Mrs. Luft staggered backward, almost falling over. Marigold's arms were still flailing.

“Don't, Marigold!” I screamed.

Marigold got stuck in space, arms up, on the tips of her toes, mouth stretched in a shriek.

“Don't!” I said. “Don't!”

Marigold looked at me as if she could see me properly at last. She dropped her arms and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

Mrs. Luft backed away, still in a crouched position. “She's crazy! A real crazy woman, acting totally demented. And her with two dependent kiddies!” she muttered.

“We're fine,” I said. “My mum was just mad at me because I did something ever so naughty. She shouted at me. So what? And we're not just dependent on Marigold anyway, we've got a father, haven't we, Marigold? Star's with him now and if he thinks you've been saying wicked things about my mum like she's mad then he'll sue you for slander, just you wait and see, you mean old rat bag.”

Mrs. Luft straightened up.

“I'm not indulging in a common brawl. You belong in the gutter, all of you. Now keep your voice
down
or I really will call the police.”

I shut the door on her. I felt the blood zipping round my body as if I'd been running a race. I wanted Marigold to clap me on the back and congratulate me but she seemed out of it again. She rolled up her sleeve and started fingering her new cross tattoo, scraping along its lines with her nails.

“Don't! You'll get it infected, picking at it like that.”

I got her antiseptic cream and she rubbed it in slowly. It seemed to soothe her. She got washed and properly dressed. I did her hair for her. I combed it up into a chic plait and anchored it with my green clasp.

“Close your eyes,” I said, and I sprayed her hair thoroughly to keep every single tendril in place.

Marigold's third eye stared back at me, unblinking. She'd had another big green eye tattooed at the back of her neck. It was usually hidden by her sweep of hair. It was a bit startling seeing it looking at me like that. When I was in Year One at my first primary school‘I can't even remember its name, I went to so many different schools‘but anyway this teacher used to cluck at us if we were naughty and say she needed eyes in the back of her head to see what we were all up to. I told her my mum
had
an eye at the back of her neck, a big green one, and she said, “Yes, dear,” as if she didn't believe a word of it.

I put my finger out and touched the green skin. The eye still didn't blink but I could feel Marigold quivering.

“Don't poke me in the eye,” she said.

It was our old old joke. It was great to hear her say it. She seemed to have calmed down. I could still hear all that shouting in my head and it was still scary. Maybe it was good she'd got it all out of her system. Now she wasn't mad at me anymore.

“What shall we do today, Marigold, you and me?”

Big mistake.

“Do?” said Marigold. “We're going to Brighton.”

I did my best to talk her out of it. We didn't know where Micky lived for a start.

“We'll find it. I'll know as soon as I'm near it,” Marigold said.

“
How
will you know?” I looked at the mobile phone. “I suppose you could always phone and ask?”

But she didn't know the number. Micky had always phoned her.

Star knew the number. She'd kept it to herself.

We both stared at the phone as if it could dial the number by itself. It suddenly started ringing and we jumped as if it were alive. Then we both made a grab for it. I was quicker.

“Is that you, Dol?” It was Star, from a phone booth. I could hear announcements in the background.

“Are you at the station?”

“Yes. Listen. How is she?”

“She's … OK,” I said. I didn't want to tell Star about Marigold's shouting fit. And it was all over now.

“You're sure? Look, I've got to get the train in a minute, but I just wanted to check.”

“Star, wait for us. We're coming to Brighton too.”

“No, not with Marigold you can't. Don't let her.”

“Star,
please
.”

“O‘o‘h.” Then there was a little sound like a sob. “I wish I knew what to do,” she said. “Why couldn't you have come with me in the first place? Oh, Dol, is she really OK? Look, I have to go, I'll miss the train. I have to see Micky. He's my
father
.”

“What's his phone number, Star?”

“What?”

“The number. I need the number.”

“No. I can't give it to you. I'm not allowed,” said Star. “I'll phone you. I'll phone this evening, right? And I'll be back tomorrow.”

Marigold grabbed the phone from me.

“Star, sweetie, I have to talk to Micky. It's a terrible emergency. Please give me the number right this minute.”

Star rang off. Marigold screwed up her face in anguish. A strand of hair escaped and dangled down round her ear. I tried to pin it back into place.

“We can ring directory inquiries,” I said. “Give them Micky's name.”

“Brilliant!” said Marigold.

But Micky was unlisted.

“It doesn't matter,” said Marigold. “I don't need it. I know all the
real
things about him, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the freckles on his back, the way he sings in the shower, the music he's crazy about. There, Dol, I knew he'd be at the Emerald City concert. I found him there. I just walked straight up to him. We'll go to Brighton and we'll walk straight there and he'll be so glad to see us. It'll be just like last Saturday. We had such a magic time, didn't we? The four of us. Just like a family.”

“But Star says he's got this Sîan.”

“She's nothing. We'll get rid of her,” said Marigold. “Come on, Dol. We're going to Brighton. What were
you playing at, wasting all this time, having that silly tantrum?”

I stared at her. Did she
really
have it so mixed up in her head that she thought
I'd
done the shouting? She didn't quite meet my eyes. She turned her back so that the third eye could gaze at me steadily.

So we went to Brighton. We used my ticket. Marigold used her new credit card for hers. It was another scary thing to worry about.

I couldn't remember if I'd ever been to Brighton before. Marigold stepped out smartly the moment we got off the train but she didn't seem to know her way round either. It wasn't too difficult to walk toward the seafront because you could tell by the glint in the distance. It was further than it looked. Marigold was wearing her high heels.

“We'll get a taxi,” she said, spotting one.

The taxi stopped and the driver stared at her.

“Take us to Micky's place,” Marigold said, climbing into the back of the cab.

“Where?”

“
Micky's
place.”

“Is that a club or a pub or what? What's the address?”