My Mum Tracy Beaker

by Jacqueline Wilson

  The Little Mermaid had always been my favourite Disney film. Suddenly I badly wanted to join the Ariel Club. I wondered if you pretended to be a mermaid. Maybe you had to wear a mermaid costume!

  ‘Please please please can I go, Mum?’ I asked when she collected me.

  ‘I suppose so. Yes, I’ll take you. Though I hope your Miss Oliver isn’t involved,’ said Mum. ‘Oh, hang on a minute – Tuesdays?’

  I suddenly remembered. That was the day Mum went kick-boxing at Sean Godfrey’s gym.

  ‘Maybe Cam could take me?’ I suggested hopefully. Then she might get me another strawberry milkshake afterwards.

  ‘I’ll take you,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m your mum.’

  ‘But what about your kick-boxing?’

  ‘Well, I can practise with Sean any old time. I’m getting good at it. Watch!’ She demonstrated, kicking her leg right up at an imaginary opponent on the pavement. The other mums gasped and giggled, and all the kids stared in awe.

  ‘Mum!’ I hissed, horribly embarrassed.

  Of course I wouldn’t swap my mum Tracy Beaker for the world, but sometimes I wish she’d act more like ordinary mums. Still, I was touched that she was giving up her kick-boxing to go to the leisure centre with me.

  I was really excited about going to the Ariel Club – but it wasn’t a bit how I’d imagined. We didn’t dress up as mermaids – everyone wore regulation black swimsuits. We didn’t sit on the edge of the pool pretending to comb our long hair, and then dive deep into the water to our palace. We just swam up and down, up and down, doing front crawl and breast-stroke and backstroke and butterfly. It was exhausting! And I wasn’t the best, as I’d hoped. I was one of the worst. There was one tubby little girl of about six who flashed past me and finished half a length in front.

  It wasn’t fun in the changing rooms either. The other girls all knew each other, and chatted about some special swimming gala, totally ignoring me. Stevie, the swimming instructor, came striding past in her tracksuit, and gave me a Sean Godfrey-type wink.

  ‘How are you doing, kid?’ she asked. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon catch up. I can see you’ve got potential. If you train really hard, by the end of the year you might make the B team.’

  I was used to being top at most things at school. I couldn’t help feeling humiliated.

  ‘Did you like it?’ Mum asked when I went up to the viewing balcony to find her.

  ‘Not much,’ I muttered.

  ‘Maybe we’ll find something else to do, just you and me,’ she said. ‘Or you and me and Alfie. Shall we see about those dog-training courses?’

  ‘Oh yes! But do you think Alfie would get along OK? He doesn’t seem to like doing what he’s told. I’m not sure he’s very trainable. I wouldn’t want him to be bottom of the class,’ I said.

  ‘Everyone can be trained. When I was a kid Cam even managed to train me. I used to be a holy terror, but now look at me. Little Miss Perfect!’ said Mum.

  When we got back to Sean Godfrey’s we saw there were two cars outside. The red Porsche – and a little white car.

  Mum wrinkled her nose. ‘Sean must have brought one of his lads back from the gym,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s a lad,’ I said, peering at the white car. There was a little white lucky-mascot unicorn dangling from the driving mirror – and a copy of Glossip on the front passenger seat.

  My heart started thumping. I’d been a bit shivery after swimming but now I went hot all over.

  ‘Do you think that’s Sandy Forthright’s car?’ I whispered.

  ‘It had better not be,’ said Mum, ‘or I’ll be practising my kick-boxing on her!’

  We let ourselves into the house. We could hear Sean Godfrey’s voice in the living room – and a woman’s voice answering. Then they both laughed.

  ‘Sean?’ Mum called, her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Hey, babe!’ he said, coming out into the hall. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt that showed off his toned muscles, and white trackie bottoms. I thought he looked a right prat, but he strutted about as if he was drop-dead gorgeous. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you!’

  ‘I’m not sure I like surprises,’ said Mum.

  ‘Chill, darling! It’s an old friend.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to meet any of your old friends.’ Mum’s fingers were digging into my shoulder now.

  ‘She’s not my old friend, babe. She’s your old friend, back when you were kids,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘Come and say hello.’

  Mum walked into the living room, still holding onto me. A woman in a slinky black top, very tight jeans and black high heels was sitting back on the sofa, a glass in her hand. She was wearing a lot of make-up and her hair was ultra-styled. The whole room smelled of her musky perfume.

  Mum stared.

  The woman raised her glass. ‘Hi, Tracy. Remember me?’

  ‘Justine Littlewood!’

  The name made the back of my neck prickle. I knew that name so well, even though I’d never met her. Justine Little-wood, my mum’s arch enemy at the children’s home. She’d stolen Mum’s best friend Louise away, and then they’d ganged up on her. They’d fought over everything. They hated each other. So what was Justine Littlewood doing here, lounging in the living room as if she belonged there?

  ‘Long time no see,’ she said. ‘Oh, Tracy, you haven’t changed a bit! I’d have known you anywhere!’

  ‘I’d have known you too,’ said Mum.

  They looked each other up and down. Mum ran her hand through her wild curls. One leg of her jeans was rucked up from sitting in the car – she stood like a stork to push it down with her high-top.

  ‘So, you know Sean then?’ she said.

  ‘I do now,’ said Justine, smiling.

  ‘She came to the gym.’ Sean Godfrey was smiling too. ‘We got talking, and she said you two used to be best friends at the children’s home.’

  ‘Best friends?’ said Mum.

  ‘Well. Frenemies,’ said Justine. ‘Oh my God, the laughs we had then, Tracy. Remember our Dare Game? I couldn’t believe it when you ate that worm and then were sick in the bushes!’

  ‘I wasn’t sick,’ said Mum, jutting her chin.

  ‘That’s my girl!’ said Sean Godfrey, putting his arm round her. He winked at me. ‘They’ll be daring each other again any time now!’

  I saw that Mum was completely rigid, her fists clenched. Then she moved closer to Sean Godfrey, nestling in to him. ‘We’re not kids any more. A lot has changed since then,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll say!’ said Justine.

  ‘Show Justine your ring, Trace,’ said Sean Godfrey.

  Mum held out her hand and the diamond flashed.

  ‘Oh my, that’s a rock and a half!’ said Justine. ‘Congratulations, you two. And you have a family already?’ She looked at me. ‘Dear goodness – apart from the glasses you’re the spitting image of your mum!’

  ‘Jess isn’t mine – but I treat her just like my own daughter,’ said Sean Godfrey.

  I wanted to spit.

  ‘And, of course, Tracy and I want our own kids too,’ he went on.

  That thought made the saliva actually rush into my mouth.

  He poured Mum a glass of wine and me an apple juice. We were still standing there as if we were the guests.

  ‘I’ve asked Justine to stay for supper,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘I thought you two would like to catch up on old times. Don’t look so worried, Tracy – I’ll do the cooking! You girls have a good natter while I go big-game hunting in the kitchen for a steak or three.’

  He went off whistling. Mum sat down on the sofa opposite Justine. I sat close beside her.

  ‘This is so spooky,’ said Justine, crossing her legs. ‘Big Tracy and little Tracy!’

  ‘So how come you just happened to wander into Sean’s gym?’ asked Mum, gulping her drink. ‘You don’t look ready to do a stint on the treadmill in those shoes.’

  ‘I’ve got my gym kit in the car,’ said Justi
ne. ‘But you’re right of course, Tracy. I tracked you down! I saw your photos of the house on Instagram. And my God, the pool! I thought you were just having a laugh, pretending you lived like that. And then I saw a photo in the “Fun Day Out” column in Glossip. You were at Chessington World of Adventures, you and Sean and little Tracy here.’

  ‘My name’s Jess,’ I told her.

  ‘And you were hanging on Sean Godfrey’s arm!’ said Justine, ignoring me. ‘My God, Tracy Beaker, you’ve done all right for yourself, haven’t you! So I was just itching with curiosity. I googled Sean, and there was stuff about his gym, so I thought I’d toddle along and see the big man for myself.’

  ‘My big man,’ said Mum.

  ‘So however did you pull it off?’ Justine asked. ‘I mean – no offence, but according to his past history he usually goes for gorgeous little blondes, twenty if they’re a day.’

  ‘Sean and I go way back,’ said Mum. ‘We knew each other when we were kids.’

  ‘What? You’re never telling me he was at the Dumping Ground too! I don’t remember him.’

  ‘This was after I got fostered,’ said Mum. ‘Sean and I were mates. We lost touch because we both moved. And then we met up again. When I went to the gym.’

  ‘It’s like a little dating agency, that gym.’ Justine stood up, stretched, and started stalking around the living room, looking at the framed cuttings on the walls, the photos, the giant portrait. ‘And this is the Sean Godfrey museum! Sweet! I don’t see any photos of you though, Tracy – or any of his other WAGs.’

  ‘Mum’s not a WAG,’ I said indignantly.

  ‘Yes she is. She’s one of Sean’s girlfriends,’ said Justine.

  ‘I’m his only girlfriend.’ Mum fiddled with her diamond. ‘And pretty soon I’ll be his wife.’

  ‘Well, I hope I get an invite to the wedding, seeing as we’re such old friends.’

  ‘Worst enemies, more like,’ said Mum.

  ‘Still, as you said, we’re not silly little kids any more,’ said Justine. ‘We’re two successful women. Stars of the Fostering Network! Does Cam still write magazine articles? She should write about you and me.’

  ‘So what have you done that’s so great, Justine?’ Mum asked.

  ‘I’m a business woman now – doing very nicely, thank you. I did business studies at uni.’

  ‘You went to university?’ Mum’s always saying she wants me to study hard and go to university. She left school early and says she’s always regretted it.

  ‘Of course I did. You can’t get on without a good degree nowadays,’ said Justine. ‘I’ve always been ambitious. I was nearly picked for The Apprentice – I made the shortlist out of thousands. I was in sales and marketing in several big companies, and then I started up my own business. Beauty products – a whole range. They were called Justine, all very classy looking – dark navy with a white lotus-flower motif – Superdrug stocked them. Maybe you used to buy them, Tracy – though you don’t really look like you’re into beauty products.’

  ‘Do you do hand cream?’ I asked. Mum never lets me wear make-up, but she sometimes gives me some of her hand cream, which smells almost as good as perfume.

  ‘I used to. But I’ve stopped producing the range now,’ said Justine.

  ‘Did you go bust?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Oh, that’s business for you,’ said Justine airily. ‘Even Simon Cowell went bust once upon a time. You have to learn to take the rough with the smooth. So what about your career, Tracy?’

  ‘I’ve done this and that,’ said Mum. ‘I worked with Marina Grey recently. She’s in publishing.’

  ‘Really? In what capacity? Editing? Or were you in sales too?’ Justine asked.

  ‘Mum wrote a book,’ I said proudly.

  ‘Oh yes. You were always going scribble-scribble-scribble when we were kids, weren’t you, Tracy? Your life story? Don’t tell me you’re really getting it published at last!’

  ‘I’ve still got some work to do on it.’

  ‘Mm!’ said Justine meaningfully.

  ‘And Mum’s Marina’s best friend now. She used to look after her children, Ava and Alice. Alice’s my best friend, actually,’ I said, though I hadn’t seen her for a while now.

  ‘Oh! So, you were this Marina’s nanny, were you, Tracy? That’s a laugh, you looking after someone else’s kids!’

  ‘Why is that a laugh, exactly?’ Mum asked, her eyes narrowing.

  ‘Well, you were only the worst-behaved kid ever. You were famous for it. You drove Mike and Jenny mad – and what was the name of that care worker …? Elaine! And you called her Elaine the Pain. She always ended up in tears when she had to deal with you!’

  Mum was scowling.

  ‘Uh-oh! Look at the face on you! You’re about to throw one of your famous wobblies!’ Justine pulled a silly face at me. ‘What’s it like, having Tracy Beaker for a mum? I bet she’s pretty embarrassing at times.’

  ‘No she’s not,’ I lied fiercely. ‘She’s the best mum ever.’

  ‘Ah, isn’t that sweet?’ said Justine. ‘Have you got a bit of a temper like your mum?’

  ‘No, she hasn’t,’ said Mum. ‘She’s a great kid. Very well behaved. And she’s doing brilliantly. Next term we’ll be sending her to a girls’ prep school where she’ll do all sorts of extras like drama and music. She’ll love it.’

  I wasn’t so sure. I quite liked the sound of drama and music – but I wanted to keep Miss Oliver as my teacher and Tyrone for a mate.

  Justine still had that stupid smirk on her face. ‘I’d have thought she’d experience enough drama living with you, Tracy,’ she said.

  ‘Why don’t you finish your drink and then clear off,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that! Can’t you take a bit of banter? And I’m invited to dinner, aren’t I? Your chap’s cooking me a steak,’ said Justine. ‘You’ve got a gem there all right, Tracy. He’s a real hunk – he cooks too, bless him. And, of course, he’s rich and famous. You’ve really hit the jackpot.’

  ‘Why are you so interested in my chap. Haven’t you got a man of your own?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got a very nice boyfriend, thanks very much. He’s crazy about me,’ said Justine. ‘Want to see him?’ She flicked through the images on her mobile phone and then held it out.

  I saw a man sitting at a great big desk, good-looking, but quite old.

  ‘He looks more like your boss than your boyfriend,’ said Mum.

  ‘It just so happens that he is my boss at the moment. But I’m thinking of starting up my own business again,’ said Justine. ‘We’ll have to see if the big romance lasts.’

  ‘Is he married?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Well – technically. I was married before actually. Hundreds of years ago. In a long white dress sewn with crystals, walking down the aisle on my dad’s arm. He told me I looked beautiful.’ Her voice wobbled suddenly.

  ‘We were always waiting for them to come and see us at the home – your dad and my mum,’ said Mum. ‘Only they hardly ever turned up.’

  ‘My dad came practically every week,’ said Justine. ‘We were ever so close. We still are, even though he doesn’t always recognize me. He’s got dementia. He’s in a home now, so I go and visit him. Funny, that.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sorry, Justine.’

  There was a little pause.

  ‘Life doesn’t always work out the way you want,’ said Justine.

  ‘And the husband isn’t around any more?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Nope. And there weren’t any children either, though we tried. No little Justines for me,’ she said.

  Mum poured her another drink – and by the time Sean Godfrey came to say the steaks were ready they were chatting like real old friends.

  ‘There! Isn’t it great for you two to catch up!’ he said delightedly.

  He’d cooked chips as well as steak, and he’d even done a couple of fish fingers for me. Alfie was most put out because the smell of steak was making him drool, and I was th
e only one likely to slip him some.

  Mum and Justine went on talking about their childhood, telling stories about the pranks they’d played in the children’s home, making it all sound fun.

  ‘Are you still in touch with Louise?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Louise? Which one was she?’ Justine asked vaguely.

  ‘You really don’t remember? She was my best friend – until she palled up with you! She was the very pretty one with long blonde hair.’

  ‘Oh, her! Haven’t seen her for donkey’s years. We met up when we were teenagers but we didn’t really have a thing in common,’ said Justine. She looked at Sean Godfrey. ‘So I hear you and Tracy were mates when you were kids. We never met up, did we?’

  ‘Well, if we did, I was the big fat kid with the bad attitude,’ he said, laughing. ‘I was a right tough nut, wasn’t I, Trace?’

  ‘Still are,’ said Mum, and she gave his arm a squeeze.

  ‘Please may I leave the table?’ I asked, because I’d finished my fish fingers and I hated it when the two of them got all lovey-dovey.

  I could tell Justine didn’t think much of it either, though she kept smiling.

  ‘Sure, Jess,’ said Sean Godfrey, as if he was my father.

  I went off to take Alfie for a walk in the dark. When we came back, Mum and Sean Godfrey and Justine were having coffee in the living room. I nipped into the kitchen and scooped up little leftover bits of steak. Alfie had a royal feast.

  Then we went upstairs and I got into my pyjamas and Alfie curled up in his bed. We were nearly asleep when Mum came upstairs to check on us.

  ‘Is she still here?’ I asked sleepily.

  ‘Yes – I wish she’d clear off too,’ said Mum.

  ‘I bet she’s dead jealous of you now, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, I think she is. It’s weird – I thought I’d feel like gloating because everything’s worked out so well for me, but I just feel a bit sorry for her now. Funny if we end up friends after all!’