The Chestnut was very light and airy, the walls painted different shades of white and grey, with a contrasting olive-green carpet. The tables were a very pale wood, each with a glass vase of real flowers. They didn’t have any television at all, and they just played very soft piano music.
There was a proper menu in a leather case, plus a chalk board of today’s specials. All the meals sounded special. They had any number of roasts on offer because it was Sunday, and a list of thoroughly described alternatives. They told us about the fish of the day and waxed lyrical about its sauce, and all their chips were triple cooked. There were pies filled with birds – just like that old nursery rhyme ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’, only the birds in the pie were pheasant and partridge, not blackbirds. There were sausages too, but there were descriptions of the type of pig they came from, which put you off because you don’t want to think about the animals when you’re eating them.
I was grateful for the children’s menu, with its macaroni cheese, although it turned out to be a bit weird. The pasta was twice the normal size, and the cheese sauce didn’t taste like the packet sort. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not, but I ate it anyway. Mum fancied fish so Sean Godfrey insisted she try the Dover sole, which was extraordinarily expensive. I thought she had finished, but then she turned it over and found there was another half underneath. Mum ate and ate and ate, and said it was delicious. Sean Godfrey had a twenty-one-day aged steak. I never knew steak came in ages.
We had puddings too. I just asked for a vanilla ice cream because I felt quite full up. It came in three scoops, with violets on top. I didn’t know you could eat flowers. I wasn’t sure about the ice cream either. It had little black dots in it, which put me off. Sean Godfrey saw me peering at them and said they were little vanilla pods. I nodded as if I’d known that all along.
Mum chose chocolate mousse, which came in three flavours – dark, milk and white, with cream and a little doll’s-size shortbread finger. Sean Godfrey had something called Eton Mess, and it looked a bit of a mess too, because the meringue part was all broken, but he said it was meant to look like that.
‘How did you get to know all this fancy stuff?’ Mum asked when he was choosing wine for her.
‘You pick it up, don’t you?’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘I was only nineteen when I started playing professionally, and my idea of a good meal was a few pints of beer and a curry down the Indian – but the other lads in the team soon took me in hand.’
‘So that’s what you’re doing with me, is it – taking me in hand?’ Mum asked.
‘It would be a foolish bloke who tried to take a girl like you in hand, Tracy Beaker,’ he said. He was right there. I suppose he has the advantage of knowing Mum from when she was a girl.
When she spilled a little bit of cream down the front of her red dress, she rushed to the cloakroom to wipe it off.
Sean Godfrey shook his head at me. ‘Do you know something, Jess?’ he asked.
‘What?’ I said warily.
‘I can’t believe I’m sitting here with Tracy Beaker,’ he said. ‘And her daughter.’
‘Well, you’re not,’ I said. ‘Mum’s in the ladies’.’
‘You know what I mean. When I was a tough little toerag I had this mad crush on your mum. Mind you, she was tough then. I was a big lad, and a bit of a bully, but she wasn’t scared of me. In fact, I was secretly scared of her,’ he said, chuckling.
‘A lot of people are,’ I said.
‘Your mum says you’ve palled up with a big tough lad like I was.’
I was outraged. I hated to think that Mum had been talking to Sean Godfrey about me, telling him all my secrets.
‘I don’t know who you mean,’ I said.
‘Tyrone,’ he said triumphantly.
Tyrone wasn’t the slightest bit like Sean Godfrey. He wasn’t slick and rich and cocky. He wasn’t even particularly good at football. Sean Godfrey was talking rubbish. And if Mum had blabbed about Tyrone to him, what else had she been saying? Had she told him that I still took a cuddly toy to bed? Had she shared our special jokes? Had she told him that I sometimes had nightmares and had to climb into bed with her?
I had a sudden horrible thought. I swallowed so hard my teeth clanked on my ice-cream spoon. I wouldn’t be able to climb into bed with Mum any more – not if there was a great big lump stuck under the duvet with her.
‘What’s up, kid?’ he asked. ‘Is the ice cream making your teeth hurt?’
‘A bit,’ I said, because it was simplest.
‘You scared of the dentist? When I was a kid I never went. Half my teeth went rotten and I didn’t like to smile. But I’ve got this fabulous dentist now. See my gnashers?’ He flashed his bright white teeth proudly. He looked like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.
Oh, Sean Godfrey, how big your teeth are!
All the better to EAT YOU UP!
It was a huge relief when Mum came back with a damp spot on the front of her dress.
‘Did you fix it, babe?’ Sean Godfrey asked.
‘Don’t call me babe! No, it just won’t budge, and it’s such a lovely dress too,’ said Mum.
‘Never mind, I’ll buy you another one. Red again, because it really suits you.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll just take this one to the dry cleaner’s.’
‘You’re determined to be independent, aren’t you? Come on, Tracy, I’m desperate to buy you a whole wardrobe of dresses. And Jess too. What’s your favourite colour, Jess?’
‘Slime green,’ I said quickly.
Sean Godfrey looked surprised, but nodded as if I really meant it. On top of everything else he was a bit thick. Whatever did Mum see in him?
When he’d paid the astonishingly large lunch bill, he gave the waitress a huge great tip too. She went all wobbly like jelly, and thrust her notepad at him to autograph. And he let her have a selfie. Then more waitresses clamoured for one – and the blushing waiter too.
Mum rolled her eyes. I did too. Sean Godfrey didn’t even play football any more. It wasn’t like he was a real celebrity – even though his photo was in Glossip.
Afterwards he drove us to his house. It was like a real celebrity mansion, set in a private road, with an electronic gate, and then a long driveway, and there it was, very big and brash, with lots of steps leading up to the front door, and a glass extension with a turquoise swimming pool glinting inside.
‘Isn’t it fantastic, Jess?’ Mum murmured to me. ‘There are seven bedrooms!’
‘Have you been in them all?’ I asked fiercely.
‘No! Don’t be cheeky now. Wait till you see the kitchen! You could fit our entire flat in it, twice over. And the conservatory is just like Kew Gardens!’
Mum insisted on showing me round. We even had a peep at his private study. I wasn’t really impressed. It was all so bright and showy it made my eyes ache. And it didn’t seem like a real home because it was so incredibly neat. My dad’s place is a mess of old newspapers and coffee cups and beer cans, and he leaves his clothes everywhere, even his smelly old trainers. Sean Godfrey’s house is immaculate. Mum showed me his walk-in wardrobe. All his shirts were on special hangers, and his jumpers were carefully folded and stacked, and his shoes were arranged in a long row as if they were about to start line dancing.
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ said Mum. ‘He’s got someone who cleans, but Sean does all the tidying.’
Sean Godfrey heard but he didn’t seem to mind. ‘I like everything to be in its place,’ he said. ‘When I was a kid, our house was a mess and my mum couldn’t be bothered to clean. It used to drive me nuts. It’s great to have my own place where I can keep it looking nice. I even dust and vacuum my study, even though Rosalie comes every day. It just gives me a kick to know that it’s all mine.’
I thought Mum would scoff, but she went all soft again. ‘Oh, Sean! You’ve come a long way since we played house together, with our cardboard-box furniture,’ she said, and she gave his arm a squeeze.
I went to the window and stared at the pool.
I didn’t want to see Mum and Sean Godfrey kissing. The turquoise water sparkled invitingly in the sunlight. All around it were slatted wooden loungers, padded with brilliant white towels.
We went swimming once a week with the school. I hated the journey because I didn’t always get a partner and had to walk with Miss Oliver looking a right Billy-No-Mates. The pool we went to was very old. You could still see the name DUKE STREET PUBLIC SWIMMING BATHS painted on the brickwork, though it was called the Duke Leisure Centre now.
The changing rooms were old too, and they weren’t very clean. It wasn’t nice taking off your shoes and socks because you might find yourself standing on clumps of wet hair or a used plaster.
I didn’t mind the swimming part though. I could already swim because Mum had taken me when I was quite little – I even liked putting my head under the water. I sometimes swam a few strokes below the surface, pretending I was a mermaid, but Miss Oliver blew her whistle because she didn’t want anyone copying me and drowning.
I was allowed to swim a length, which was lovely, but you always had to watch out for someone else barging into you, and whenever you lifted your head out of the water there was this loud echoing yell from all the other children. I imagined swimming in Sean Godfrey’s serene, silent pool.
‘Do you fancy a swim, Jess?’ asked Mum, standing beside me.
I shrugged. ‘I haven’t brought my swimming costume,’ I said. I wasn’t going to swim in front of Sean Godfrey in my knickers!
‘I’ve brought it with me in my shoulder bag. And mine,’ said Mum. ‘Sean will lend us towels, won’t you?’
‘Is he going in too?’ I whispered.
He had sharp ears. ‘Nah, I’m not that fussed about swimming. I’ll go in the Jacuzzi and let you girls have the pool to yourselves,’ he said.
‘He’s not actually that great at swimming,’ Mum said when we were changing in one of the seven bedrooms. ‘We could both beat him, easy-peasy.’
‘So what does he want a pool for? Just to show off?’ I said, stepping into my costume.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’ Mum was putting on a white bikini.
‘That’s new!’ I said.
‘It’s only Primark,’ she said.
‘So you want to show off too.’
‘Stop being so lippy.’ Mum looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Actually, I haven’t got much to show off. You should see some of the girls down at Sean’s gym! They’ve got fantastic figures, and they’re all the same shade of honey brown, with beautiful long blonde hair. It makes you sick. I can’t imagine what Sean sees in me.’
‘You’re much better than any girl at his gym. You’re Tracy Beaker, Mum!’ I said.
‘Oh, Jess. You crack me up sometimes,’ she said, giving me a hug. ‘Come on then, let’s go and swim.’
The pool was glorious. The water was soft and silky and didn’t smell of chlorine. Sean Godfrey sat in the Jacuzzi and watched us for a while, which was a bit off-putting, but then he got out and went to have a shower, so we had the whole pool area to ourselves. We swam, we floated, we dived down to the bottom, we bobbed up spouting water like dolphins, we played at being mermaids.
Then Sean Godfrey came back wearing a white dressing gown and flip-flops. He was carrying a tray of fancy drinks with straws and little paper umbrellas! ‘Cocktails, ladies,’ he said, pretending to be a waiter.
We dried ourselves with great fluffy towels, and then lounged on the chairs, sipping our drinks. Mine was pomegranate juice with a dash of lime and cherries on a stick. It tasted very grown up and delicious. Mum’s was pink and fizzy, and she let me have a sip. It made my nose tickle. I didn’t like her drink anywhere near as much as mine.
We posed like celebrities, and Mum took heaps of photos of us to put on Instagram.
Then we showered and got dressed again, and Sean Godfrey asked if we’d like to watch a movie. I thought he’d just put a DVD on the television, but we went downstairs into a room that looked like an actual cinema! There was an enormous screen that took up one whole wall, and a lovely great squashy sofa. We had heaps and heaps of films to choose from. I couldn’t make up my mind.
‘OK, I’ll choose,’ said Mum. ‘We’ll watch my favourite, The Wizard of Oz.’
I groaned. Mum always chooses that film. I quite like it, but we’ve already watched it heaps of times.
Sean Godfrey groaned too. ‘I ordered all the Disney princess films specially for Jess,’ he said.
‘We’ll watch them another time. Let’s see The Wizard of Oz. Please!’ said Mum.
‘You’re still a kid at heart, aren’t you?’ said Sean Godfrey, and she got her way.
We lay back on the sofa in the dark. Mum reached out and held my hand when the twister part started. I wondered if she was holding Sean Godfrey’s hand too. I couldn’t really see. He was quite funny when Dorothy’s house landed in Munchkinland. He sang along in this silly little voice until Mum made him shut up.
She watches The Wizard of Oz as if it’s really happening all around her. Right at the end Glinda, the pretty pink witch, tells Dorothy how to get back to Kansas. She just has to click her heels and say, ‘There’s no place like home.’
Mum murmured the words along with her, her hand clutching mine. I wondered which home she was thinking of. Was it ours? Or was it Sean Godfrey’s?
SO IT’S SETTLED. We’re going to move in with Sean Godfrey. They’re going to get married. And my mum won’t be Tracy Beaker any more.
‘Yes I will!’ said Mum. ‘I’m keeping my own name after I’m married. I’ll always be Tracy Beaker and you’ll always be Jess Beaker, right?’
It’s not right, even if we do keep our own names. It’ll be wrong wrong wrong. Cam agrees with me, and she’s the one who knows Mum best after me. When Mum told her about getting married, Cam said all the right things: Oh my goodness, how lovely! It’s great to see you looking so happy! That’s just wonderful news! Blah blah blah. Then, in a different tone altogether, she added, ‘Are you sure?’
Mum said she was certain. Cam gave her a hug. Then she gave me a big hug too. She whispered in my ear, ‘How about you, Jess? How do you feel?’
‘It feels … funny,’ I whispered back.
Cam didn’t say any more, but the following Saturday we had a day out together, just her and me. She got her friends Jane and Liz to come and keep an eye on the girls. We took the bus to Battersea and went to the zoo there, which is one of my all-time favourite places. I like the lemurs best, with their big eyes and stripy tails. I love the way they lie on their backs and sunbathe. I’d give anything to have a lemur for a pet. I like the squirrel monkeys too, with their dear little faces and soft yellow fur. I wish I could cuddle one. You’re not allowed to touch them, but you can go to the petting zoo and stroke the rabbits. You can stroke the goats too if you want, but I don’t really fancy it. They have yellow eyes and they smell a bit too goaty.
Cam likes the pigs best. I think they used to be mini pigs but they’ve grown into great big giant pigs. They like to have their backs scratched. I don’t blame them – I like to have my back scratched too.
We washed our hands very thoroughly indeed on our way out of the petting zoo – you have to if you’ve touched any of the animals.
Then we walked through the park and sat on a bench in the sun, and Cam produced a picnic out of her backpack. We each had a cheese-and-tomato sandwich and a little banana-and-cream-cheese roll, and then an apricot slice and an apple, with elderflower cordial to drink.
‘You make very good picnics, Cam,’ I said. ‘Did you make them for Mum when she was little?’
‘She was more of a McDonald’s girl. I used to take her there for a treat,’ said Cam.
‘Did she get lots of treats?’
‘Her mum sometimes bought her a whole load of stuff.’
‘My Granny Carly buys me stuff too, but it’s always the wrong sort,’ I said. ‘When I told her I wanted a dog, she gave me this huge mechanical toy dog that moves its h
ead and lies down and makes woofing noises. But then it went wrong and flopped over to one side, and the woof noise sounded more like a growl. I didn’t like it any more, and Mum had to put it in a cupboard, but I still knew it was there in the dark, waiting to get me.’
‘Oh yes, I remember that dog. I thought it looked rather scary,’ said Cam. ‘Still, I suppose it was a thoughtful present.’
‘But she often forgets my birthday altogether. She remembers me at Christmas – she buys me clothes, mostly frilly party dresses that are too small. I’m hardly ever asked to parties anyway. There was one with a man who brought animals to show us, but when it was my turn to hold the rabbit, it wee’d all down my party dress and spoiled it.’
‘Oh dear!’ said Cam. ‘I suppose she’s trying to dress you up a bit because she likes to look girly too, even at her age.’
‘She says I look as if Mum kits me out at a jumble sale,’ I said.
‘Charming,’ said Cam. ‘I think your clothes look great, Jess.’
‘I did get my jacket from a jumble actually.’
‘Bargain,’ said Cam. ‘Anyway, you’ll be able to get heaps of new clothes if you’re living with Sean Godfrey.’
‘I don’t want any clothes from him,’ I said.
‘You still don’t think much of him?’ Cam asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘For any particular reason?’
I thought hard.
‘Does he ever get cross with you?’
I shook my head.
‘Does he ignore you when he’s with you and your mum?’
I shook my head again.
‘Does he make too much of a fuss of you?’
Another shake of the head.
‘Does he act the fool?’
My Mum Tracy Beaker Page 7