My Mum Tracy Beaker

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Well, I don’t know what she was like when she was a kid, but you have to admit she’s quite a looker now. And a clever little business woman too. Shame you can’t stand her – I fancy a line of her health and beauty products for the gym,’ said Sean Godfrey.

  ‘And you fancy her too,’ said Mum.

  ‘Here you go with those beady green eyes again! It’s you I fancy, babe. Why can’t you get it into that silly little noddle of yours?’

  ‘Because my beady green eyes have read every disgusting message on that secret phone of yours.’

  There was a tiny pause. I held Alfie so tightly he whimpered.

  ‘You’ve been ferreting around in my study, reading my phone?’ said Sean Godfrey. He sounded furious now. ‘How could you be so despicable? And how did you know my password anyway?’

  I swallowed hard.

  ‘Any fool could work it out,’ said Mum. ‘And how dare you call me despicable? You’ve been seeing her ever since you brought her here! You have the cheek to act the Mr Nice Guy with Jess and me, and yet, now I’ve found you out, you make out it’s somehow my fault!’

  They went on and on yelling at each other, while I hung onto Alfie, shivering. I hated it when they were all lovey-dovey together – but this was far worse.

  ‘You’re a liar and a cheat, Sean. I can’t bear it. I’m leaving you,’ said Mum.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Trace. We’re getting married!’

  ‘No we’re not. Here!’

  I knew what Mum was doing. She was pulling that big diamond off her ring finger and giving it back to him.

  ‘Tracy, Tracy, Tracy. Don’t be like this, babe,’ said Sean Godfrey, wheedling now. ‘OK, hands up, I had a little fling with Justine. It was all her doing. I’d have had to be a man of steel to resist her. But it was totally meaningless, babe – surely you can see that. She doesn’t mean anything to me. You mean all the world.’

  ‘And you meant all the world to me,’ said Mum. ‘I thought you were the man of my dreams.’

  ‘And I still am! Look, I never dreamed you’d be so straight-laced about one little fling. You should see some of my football pals! You’ve given me the grief – now I’ll make it up to you. We’ll put it behind us, eh?’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps if it was any other girl … but you had to go and choose Justine Littlewood. If you can’t see why that hurts so much, then you’re more of a fool than I thought. I’m leaving, I tell you.’

  ‘Then you’re the fool, Tracy Beaker,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘Go on then, get out. Go back to your grotty little flat and your sad little life, Miss Nobody.’

  There was the sound of a very hard slap – and then Mum came rushing out of the door. I caught a glimpse of Sean Godfrey looking dazed, one side of his face bright red.

  ‘Come on, Jess,’ said Mum. ‘We’re getting our things.’

  We got the laundry bags from the back of the cupboard and started packing. We didn’t stop to search for bubble wrap – we simply wrapped the Mickey Mouse alarm clock and the china dogs and the Toby jugs and all the other breakables in our clothes. Then I pulled the mother-and-daughter picture out of the wardrobe. Alfie kept circling us, whimpering, wondering what on earth was going on.

  When we dragged everything downstairs, we found Sean Godfrey in the sitting room, drinking a glass of whisky.

  ‘We’re off now,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll phone for a taxi.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Trace, use your car,’ said Sean Godfrey.

  ‘I’m not taking it. It’s not mine any more.’

  ‘Look, you idiot, I don’t want that ancient piece of pink metal, and I can’t see anyone else being mug enough to take it either. If you don’t keep it, it’ll just get crunched in the scrapyard.’ Sean Godfrey took another gulp of his drink.

  ‘All right. I’ll take it. Thank you,’ said Mum. She paused. ‘Thank you for everything, Sean.’

  He didn’t answer her, so we left. I didn’t say goodbye to him, and I held Alfie on a tight lead so he couldn’t either. But as Mum started up the car he came running out.

  ‘Trace! Stop this nonsense! I can’t believe you’re really going through with it!’ he shouted.

  ‘I can’t believe it either,’ said Mum. ‘But I am.’

  ‘Well, don’t think you can come crawling back in a couple of days when you come to your senses. You drive away now and that’s it. Finished. For ever. No one turns their back on Sean Godfrey.’

  ‘And no one cheats on Tracy Beaker, especially not with Justine Slimebag Littlewood,’ said Mum, putting her foot down on the accelerator.

  ‘Good for you, Mum,’ I said as we drove off. I waited a few seconds. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We’ll smuggle Alfie in somehow. Even if someone reports us, it’ll be a while before the council sends one of their snippy letters. And by that time we’ll be gone. Starting our new life,’ said Mum.

  ‘Right,’ I said. I wished she would say what our new life was going to be. It felt like we’d jumped off a cliff, Mum and Alfie and me, and were frantically running through thin air like cartoon characters, not sure where we were going to land.

  The Duke Estate looked grimmer than ever. Someone had spray-painted more tags all around Marlborough Tower. There was another old stained mattress dumped on the asphalt, and the rubbish chutes were blocked, so reeking plastic bags spilled their contents everywhere. Our old car was still in its place, but they’d sprayed tags on that too, and stolen all four wheels. Mum said a few very rude words about the kids who’d done it and then looked at me.

  ‘You didn’t hear that, did you, Jess?’

  ‘Good job you kept the Cadillac, Mum,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not leaving it here five minutes,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll take our stuff up, and you and Alfie stay here to guard the car, and then we’ll go and park it somewhere safe and walk back, OK?’

  Mum staggered off with the bags and disappeared into the lift. Lots of kids came up, gawping at the Cadillac.

  ‘What sort of car’s that then, Jess Beaker?’

  ‘It’s a Barbie Doll car!’

  They all laughed. How dare they mock Mum’s dream car!

  ‘Get them, Alfie,’ I hissed.

  Alfie didn’t understand. He stood up on his seat, tail wagging, trying to lick them, desperate to make friends.

  ‘Come to gloat over us, have you? Slumming it for five minutes before you go back to your posh mansion, eh?’

  I was shocked at how horrid they were – and a little bit scared. Very scared, actually. Especially when one of the big boys got out a knife. It was only a penknife, but it could still do a lot of harm.

  ‘Shall I write your mum’s name on it for her?’ he said, grinning.

  ‘You make one scratch and I’ll punch your teeth in,’ I said, as fiercely as I could.

  That made them all laugh, because the boy was twice my size. I sat up as tall as I could and screwed my face up in a scowl, my fists clenched, though I was actually very nearly wetting myself. Then I heard a chorus of ‘Hey, Jess!’ and it was Tyrone and his gang from Devonshire Tower come to see what was going on.

  ‘Oh, Tyrone!’ I called, thrilled to see him.

  Even the biggest boy on our block was wary of Tyrone. They backed away uneasily, pretending they’d just remembered they had some place else to be.

  ‘What you doing back here then? Hey, Alfie, boy! Good dog! That’s right, lick me all over, I could do with a little wash,’ said Tyrone, laughing. He stroked the shiny pink of the Cadillac regretfully. ‘What on earth was your mum thinking, choosing this old wreck? You gonna take me for a spin in it then, Jess?’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I said.

  ‘Tell you what – I’ll take you for one,’ he offered, jumping into the driver’s seat.

  ‘No! You can’t drive for starters!’ I said.

  ‘I know how. And any fool can steer. We won’t go very fast, just round the block. No one will know,’
he said.

  He sounded serious. I started to feel scared again.

  ‘My mum might look over the balcony and see us and she’d go mad,’ I said, truthfully enough.

  ‘Well, maybe we’d better stay put,’ said Tyrone. ‘Is Sean with her? Hey, guess what, Jess – he says I’m his lucky discovery. Truly. I get to stay at the club half an hour longer than the others, and he gives me special intensive training. He does, I’m not kidding. Isn’t he fantastic?’

  ‘No,’ I said shortly.

  ‘Yes he is!’

  ‘No he’s not! He’s a pig,’ I insisted.

  ‘You’d better not let your mum hear you say that – especially as Sean’s going to be your stepdad soon!’

  ‘No he’s not.’

  ‘Yes he is. He told me he was getting married in this big castle place, see. He tells me all sorts of things. It’s like we’re mates,’ said Tyrone, beaming.

  ‘Well, next time you see him, your mate Sean Godfrey will drop you a hint that he’s not getting married in a big castle after all. Not to my mum anyway,’ I said.

  ‘So where are they getting married then?’ Tyrone asked. ‘Are they going to have a beach wedding?’

  ‘They’re not having any wedding. They’re not together any more. They’ve split up,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ Tyrone exclaimed, and there was a little explosion of what-what-whats from the gang of boys surrounding the Cadillac.

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ I said. ‘Mum’s much better off without him.’

  ‘So he’s dumped her.’ Tyrone looked appalled. ‘I thought it was too good to last. I mean, he’s Sean Godfrey, and he’s been out with TV stars and models. He could have anyone. I mean, your mum’s OK, but it’s not like she’s special.’

  ‘Yes she is! She’s ever so special! Sean Godfrey was blooming lucky to get her! Only she’s gone off him now. She’s dumped him!’ I declared.

  ‘Never!’ said Tyrone, and all the gang never-never-nevered like a stupid chorus.

  ‘Look, shut up, you lot!’ I said. ‘Sean Godfrey’s a big flash pig and we’re heaps better off without him.’

  ‘Tracy Beaker dumped Sean Godfrey? Has she gone crazy!’ said Tyrone, screwing his finger into the side of his head to indicate loopiness. ‘He must have dumped her. I bet he’s got some other woman.’ He saw me flinch. ‘He has, hasn’t he!’

  ‘OK, he’s been seeing someone else, who just happens to be my mum’s worst enemy.’

  ‘Who’s that then? I reckon she’s got a lot to choose from,’ said Piotr, and they all sniggered.

  ‘Just clear off, the lot of you!’ I said, fighting back tears.

  ‘Yeah, scram!’ said Tyrone, looking fierce. ‘It does my head in the way you hang around me all the time. Go on, get lost!’

  They backed away, looking disgruntled.

  ‘He just wants to be with his tatty little girlfriend,’ said one, and they all made stupid kissing noises.

  ‘Take no notice of them,’ Tyrone told me.

  ‘I’m not your girlfriend,’ I said. ‘As if!’

  Tyrone looked hurt. ‘No need to be so huffy! Especially as I’ve been sticking up for you!’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, craning round to look at the lift entrance, wishing Mum would hurry up.

  ‘So what’s your mum going to do about it?’ Tyrone asked anxiously.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘To get him back!’

  ‘She’s not going to do anything. She doesn’t want him back, not now,’ I said.

  ‘Then she’s mad,’ said Tyrone.

  ‘No she’s not! Don’t you dare say she’s mad!’

  ‘But she is. It’s obvious. You could live in that fantastic house with the pool and everything and have whatever you wanted – or live in this dump. Come on, Jess! It’s not fair on you, is it?’

  ‘Yes it is. It’s what I want. You just shut up about it,’ I said.

  ‘And it’s not fair on me,’ Tyrone persisted. ‘Sean Godfrey only started taking me to his club because I’m friends with you. And now he won’t bother. And it was so great.’ He sounded so sad that Alfie nudged up against him and started licking him sympathetically. ‘And that’s another thing. You’ll have to send Alfie back to Battersea.’

  ‘No I won’t. Mum says we’re going to find a way to keep him,’ I said.

  ‘And you believe her?’ Tyrone asked.

  ‘Yes!’ I said, though my voice wavered.

  At last Mum came out of the lift. When she got nearer I saw that her eyes were red.

  ‘Hey, Tracy Beaker. I’m sorry about Sean. Jess told me all about it. But maybe he’ll take you back if you play your cards right,’ said Tyrone.

  Mum glared at him. So did I.

  ‘Hop it, kid.’ Mum used the voice that makes you do what she says, pronto.

  Tyrone scrambled out of the car. Mum got in and switched on the ignition.

  ‘That’s it – go back to him,’ said Tyrone.

  ‘We’re not going back, are we?’ I asked Mum as we drove off.

  ‘No, we’re not. I said, we’re just going to park the car somewhere safer, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Away from all these no-good kids.’

  It was hard to find anywhere. We had to drive all the way up to the park and leave it there, and even then Mum kept looking back anxiously. Alfie had a sniff of the grass and trees, and tugged desperately at his lead, wanting to explore.

  ‘Could he have just a little walk, Mum?’ I asked.

  ‘All right,’ she said.

  So we wandered around the park. I didn’t dare let Alfie off his lead because he still didn’t always understand about coming back to me. I had to run quite quickly to keep up with him. We zig-zagged in and out of trees and dived under bushes while Mum trudged along behind us.

  ‘You OK, Mum?’ I asked stupidly.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. She was crying again.

  I stood still, so Alfie had to stop abruptly too.

  ‘Mum – Mum, I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I should never have looked at Sean Godfrey’s phone, and then you wouldn’t have known about him and Justine, and we’d be having supper out with him, and you’d still be fine.’

  ‘Of course it’s not your fault, Jess. I’d have found out sooner or later,’ Mum said wearily. ‘Supper! We haven’t got any food in at the flat.’

  ‘Can we have fish and chips then?’ I asked.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Mum.

  ‘Alfie likes fish,’ I said. ‘He can share mine. We can buy him some proper dog food tomorrow, can’t we?’

  Mum nodded.

  ‘It’s going to be all right, Mum, isn’t it?’ I said, putting my arm round her. ‘You said.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, though she didn’t sound at all sure.

  I HOPED THAT when we were back in our cosy flat we would feel better. But somehow it didn’t feel cosy any more. For a start it was so small. We’d got used to Sean Godfrey’s spacious rooms. It was almost as if the flat had shrunk. Something had happened to the furniture too. Had it always been quite so shabby? Had the sofa always sagged so badly? Had the table always been so scratched and stained?

  And what was the matter with the walls? We’d always had a damp patch on the ceiling, but it seemed to have spread, and there were little black dots of mould everywhere. The windowsills were stained and the doors were stiff and wouldn’t shut properly. Half the posters and drawings we’d Blu-Tacked to the walls had slipped, and either hung at drunken angles or lay crumpled on the floor.

  Mum and I stood holding hands, breathing heavily. The flat smelled mouldy. Alfie padded around the flat warily, and then bounded back to my side, giving little enquiring woofs. It was clear as day he was asking when we were going home. He didn’t know that this was home.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Mum.

  ‘It’ll look better when we put all our ornaments back,’ I said.

  ‘The whole place will have to be scrubbed from top to bottom. We ought to
open all the windows too, but it’s so cold.’

  It was a lovely spring evening, but somehow it felt like the dead of winter. Mum switched on the electric fire, and then found two plates and a couple of forks.

  ‘We’d better eat our fish and chips before they go cold too,’ she said. She switched on the television because the flat seemed so empty, even with the two of us and a dog. We needed lots more voices filling up the space so we didn’t feel so lonely.

  We ate the fish and chips, and Mum made us a mug of tea, though we had to have it black because we hadn’t bought any milk. We warmed up a little.

  ‘I suppose I’d better get started on the cleaning,’ said Mum wearily, but she flopped on the sofa instead.

  I flopped beside her, and then Alfie came and nestled up to me. At last it started to feel cosier.

  ‘Maybe I’ll do the cleaning first thing tomorrow,’ said Mum, putting hot-water bottles in our beds to air them.

  I went into Mum’s bed anyway, and Alfie lay on a cushion at the end. I was so worried about him. I’d sneaked him out after dark so he could have a wee. I told him over and over again that he had to be quiet, but he was so happy to get out of the flat he started barking joyously, and when the grumpy old man at the end of our balcony peered out, Alfie lifted his leg and watered an empty KFC carton left near the rubbish chute.

  ‘Filthy beast! I’m telling the council you’ve got a dog, Jess Beaker. Dogs aren’t allowed, you know that,’ the man said.

  ‘Please don’t tell! He’s only here for a little while. I promise I won’t let him wee all over the place any more,’ I gabbled, but he wouldn’t listen.

  ‘Alfie, you have to learn to be quiet,’ I said – but he barked in the lift, he barked running around Marlborough Tower, and he did three more wees and a poo.

  I did my best to clean up after him, but several ladies from the ground floor leaned out of their windows and shouted at us. I didn’t understand their language, but it was plain they’d seen and were complaining bitterly.