‘I am watching,’ said Kendall. ‘They’re so lovely! Can I have one, Mum, please please please?’
All the tourists collapsed with laughter. I laughed too, but I was still shaking. I hated those sharks. I couldn’t go near the glass even though I knew they couldn’t swim through it. I wanted to rush past to the next room but Kenny stuck to the glass like he had little suckers on his hands and nose. When Mum tried to pull him away he started yelling.
‘You kids are driving me nuts!’ said Mum. ‘Look, you go to the next bit, Lola Rose. We’ll catch up when His Lordship has had his fill of the sharks.’
So I hurried on, round the corner and up the ramp. Then I stopped. I was up at the top of the shark tank now. There was no escape. There they were, swimming straight towards me.
I was scared I was going to start screaming again. I ran and ran, blundering down dark tunnels and through twilight rooms, fish flickering all around me. I shot straight through the aquarium to the gift shop at the end. Even the turquoise toy sharks seemed sinister.
I lurked in a far corner for ages and ages. I thought Mum and Kendall would never come. When they eventually came through they were hand in hand, and Kendall was bright pink in the face and beaming.
‘Lola Rose, where did you get to?’ Mum said.
‘You were so silly, Jayni – sorry, Lola Rose. This man came and told me all about the sharks. There’s this big big big one called George. He’s the best. George can see ten times better than me and he smells heaps better too.’
‘Yeah, they can smell one drop of blood miles away when they’re in the ocean,’ said Mum, snapping her teeth in a shark imitation.
‘Shut up, Mum.’
‘You’re not really scared, are you, you big softie? The sharks in these tanks don’t eat people. They get fed like fish paella, octopus and squid and stuff. We’ll have to come back and see them fed, won’t we, Kendall?’
‘Yeah! I want to feed George.’
‘I don’t think you can feed them, sweetheart. We’ll have to watch the man. You should have stayed, Lola Rose, it was fascinating.’ Mum stared at me and then came up close. ‘Jayni. What’s all this twitching? What’s up with you, you’re always so sensible?’
‘I am sensible. Sensible people hate sharks because they look so ugly and they can rip you apart. You can take Kendall back if you like but I’m never setting foot in this place ever again,’ I said. ‘Not for anything.’
I walked out of the shop and stood by myself on the embankment. I stared at the river. I knew perfectly well there were no sharks in the Thames but I kept expecting a deadly dorsal fin to streak through the water.
When Mum and Kendall came out at last Kendall was clutching a big fluffy turquoise toy shark. ‘Look, look, I’ve got my very own George!’ he cried, racing up to me. ‘Attack!’ he yelled, whirling George by the tail and then bashing me in the face with him.
It didn’t hurt. I knew George was a fluffy toy and his teeth were made of felt – but I still screamed.
‘Oh, do stop it, Jayni, you’re just acting soft to get attention,’ Mum snapped.
I was so hurt I went into a sulk. I wouldn’t talk to either of them as we crossed the bridge over the river and walked round Covent Garden. Then Mum stopped outside this immensely posh French cake and coffee shop. ‘Let’s live dangerously,’ she said, and went inside.
I had to talk to say which cake I wanted. It took me ages to choose because they were all so ultra-yummy and special. I eventually decided on a cream mousse gâteau with strawberries and a swirl of chocolate icing on top. Mum had an elegant almond croissant. Kendall chose a chestnut cream meringue, but he licked it half-heartedly and didn’t finish it. So I did. And I had a hot chocolate to die for, all whippy with a big peak of cream.
Mum laughed at me. ‘You’ve cheered up now, haven’t you, Lola Rose!’
‘You bet,’ I said.
Then we got started on some serious shopping. We found this posh kids’ shop and there was this perfect little black leather jacket that fitted Kendall perfectly. He looked so cute in it. Even the shop assistant clapped her hands and called him a pet. It cost a fortune. ‘But I’ve got a fortune,’ said Mum, and she handed over a fistful of notes as if they were pennies.
We looked at the girls’ jackets too. They had a denim jacket with fur and my heart started beating fast but when I tried it on it was much too small. I could hardly get my arms in and it wouldn’t meet across my front.
‘I’m too fat,’ I said, feeling awful.
‘Don’t be so daft. You’re just getting a big girl, too big for little kids’ clothes. We’ll find you a proper furry denim jacket, just you wait and see,’
We went into shop after shop after shop. Kendall stopped playing swim-through-the-air games with George and started whining. But then, in the thirteenth shop, my lucky number, we found a whole row of ladies’ denim jackets lined with fake fur. Cream fur, blue fur, pink fur. I tried the pink furry one on, trembling. It fitted perfectly. Well, it was a little too long in the arms, but Mum rolled the sleeves up for me, saying it was the only cool way to wear such jackets anyway.
Mum bought it for me and I went out of the shop wearing it. It felt as if I was being cuddled by the softest teddy bear. I looked great in it, I really did. I kept peering at myself in shop windows. A new cool blue denim pink furry-collared Lola Rose stared back, smiling all over her face.
Mum was quite tempted by the denim jackets too, but then she spotted a white leather jacket, short and sexy. When she tried it on she looked so glamorous, just like a rock star, especially with her dark glasses.
We sashayed out the shop, Lola Rose in her furry blue denim, Victoria in her rock-star white leather, two absolute babes – with a baby, our Kendall, whining for England, dragging George shark by the tail.
We decided to buy him one of his favourite red lollies to shut him up. They’d proved very good dummies in the past. We could see any number of posh places selling Häagen Dazs and Ben & Jerry’s but there weren’t any ordinary little corner shops with cheapo ice lollies.
‘Perhaps there’s one down a side street,’ said Mum.
We found a little newsagent eventually. He didn’t stock Kendall’s strawberry shockers but Mum bought him a fistful of other flavours – orange, mango, blackcurrant, milk.
‘There, kiddo, suck on that little lot and shut up,’ said Mum.
She bought me a white Magnum. I was extra careful eating ice cream in my new denim jacket. I was concentrating so hard on licking cautiously that I almost walked straight past the special shop. It was a bookshop, but these were wonderful books – colouring books, cut-out books, sticker books, hundreds of them.
‘Boring!’ said Kendall, ice lolly all round his mouth like lipstick. Then he saw a colouring book of fishes of the world. He started clamouring for it, even though he goes horribly over the lines when he uses his own wax crayons and he presses too hard and makes the points furry if I let him near my felt-tip pens.
‘OK OK, spoilt brat number two,’ said Mum, opening up her magic handbag again. ‘What about you, spoilt brat number one? Would you like a fancy colouring book too?’
I found the book I wanted most of all right at the back of this fairyland shop. It was a fat book of reproduction Victorian scraps, all ready to peel off and stick in a scrapbook. There were hundreds of children in bright pinks and purples playing with cats and dogs, flowers, birds, seaside scenes, Father Christmas, babies, butterflies, angels . . .
‘Oh, Mum. Victoria. Please!’ I whispered.
We spent that evening sitting up in the double bed together watching television. Mum click-flicked through channel after channel. Kendall cuddled up between us, making George swim across the bed and attack poor little Bob the bear again and again. I sat up cross-legged with my scrapbook balanced on both knees, sticking in my new scraps.
My absolute favourites were four enormous angels. They had long golden hair and flowing white robes and great grey wings springing from thei
r shoulder blades. I stuck them in carefully, having to edge them in really close together to fit on the page. When I fell asleep I dreamt the angels were standing at each corner of our bed, wings spread out like feathery curtains protecting us.
‘Let’s go on the razzle again,’ said Mum, the minute I woke up.
She was already up and dressed. It didn’t look as if she’d slept a lot – but she didn’t act tired. We razzled till we dazzled. We bought new tops, new trousers, new night things and new shoes. Oh, those new shoes – wonderful, strappy sling-back stilettos for Mum and my first pair of proper grown-up heels too. They were only little heels but I still couldn’t cross the room in them without twisting my ankles.
‘Who cares?’ said Mum. ‘You’ll be fine with a little bit of practice. All set to go dancing, eh?’
She bought a little CD player and a stack of her favourite CDs. We had our own private disco in the hotel bedroom during the day when the vacuums were roaring and it didn’t matter how much noise we made. Mum especially liked ‘I Will Survive’. She danced to it, punching her arms in the air, and Kendall and I copied her.
The maid came in to clean our bedroom and saw us dancing. She roared with laughter and imitated us, punching her own arms. ‘That’s it, you tell them, girl!’ she said.
She was a very very large lady but she was surprisingly good at dancing, jiggling her hips and strutting her stuff.
‘Wasn’t that lady fat!’ Kendall whispered when she’d gone. ‘She went wibble wobble, wibble wobble.’
‘If you think she was fat you should see your Auntie Barbara,’ said Mum.
‘Your sister?’ I said. I poked Mum gently in her flat-as-a-pancake tummy. ‘But you’re skinny!’
‘Yep,’ said Mum. ‘We’re complete opposites in every way. I always used to wonder if we had different dads. Our dad couldn’t stick me right from the start.’
‘Did you ask him?’
‘No fear! He’d have given me a clump around the head for cheek,’ said Mum. She bit her thumb again. ‘What is it about me, eh? Why do all the men in my life want to thump me? What am I doing wrong?’
‘You’re not doing anything wrong, Mum! It’s them, not you. But you’re not you now anyway. You’re Victoria and I’m Lola Rose and he’s Kendall and we’re the Luck Luck Lucky family.’
I put the music on again and whirled Mum round and round, while Kendal did his little jiggle-stomp with George. It was just as well he was so keen on George. Poor Bubble had died in the night. Kendall wanted to bury him properly in a shoebox but Mum said she wasn’t mucking about with dead goldfish and tipped Bubble down the toilet.
We had to go back to that awful aquarium every day to keep Kendall happy, visiting the real George and his horrific fishy friends. I stayed outside on the embankment. People kept stopping to talk to me, asking if I was all right. I was scared they might fetch a policeman. And any time a tall guy with long hair and a leather jacket came loping along my heart would thump even though I could see they were all strangers.
‘Come in with us, you daft banana,’ said Mum.
But I couldn’t. I was far too scared of those sharks. I dreamt about those gaping jaws every night. I kept waking up, shaking. Mum was often sitting up smoking, curled in a chair in the dark. I’d squash up beside her and we’d cling together while Kendall snored softly, cuddled under the covers with George.
One night I woke with a start and reached for Mum. She wasn’t in the bed, she wasn’t in her chair. I found her kneeling in the bathroom, handbag in her lap, five-pound notes all round her in unsteady piles.
‘Show me the money!’ I whispered, to try to make her laugh.
But she wasn’t in a jokey mood. Her face was screwed up, a big vein standing out on her forehead. ‘Somebody’s stolen some of it!’ she said, sniffing furiously.
‘They can’t have done. You carry it round everywhere with you,’ I said.
Mum always clutched the handbag tightly in case someone made a snatch at her bag. She wouldn’t even hide it in the hotel room when we went down to breakfast.
‘How can someone have stolen it?’
‘Don’t ask me. I just know they bloody have. There’s hundreds and hundreds gone missing!’
‘We’ve spent a lot,’ I said, kneeling down beside Mum and starting to count the notes.
‘Not that much!’
I got a piece of paper and wrote down all the clothes we’d bought, all the meals and treats and rides, all the ordinary everyday stuff like ice creams and Mum’s ciggies and bus fares.
It started to add up to hundreds and hundreds.
‘And we had the night out with Dad, and the taxi and the train fare to London and the first hotel—’
‘And we’ve still got to pay this one too,’ said Mum. ‘Oh God.’
‘I don’t think anyone’s stolen any, Mum. We’ve just spent it.’
‘Right. OK. You’ve made your point. We’ve spent it.’ Mum snapped, as if it was all my fault. ‘So, Miss Clever Clogs, what are we going to do when the money runs out altogether?’
I tried to think. My brain wouldn’t work. I never knew what to do when Mum turned on me. ‘Maybe it won’t run out for ages if we’re careful,’ I said. ‘We could move to a smaller hotel. And eat sandwiches. And not go to the aquarium.’
‘Yes, but then what? Are we going to sit in doorways and beg? What happens if the police catch us? They’ll want you and Kenny back in school, won’t they? They’ll send you home to your dad . . .’
I started crying. Mum started crying too. She put her arms round me.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it. Of course you won’t get sent home.’
‘We won’t any of us have to go home, will we, Mum?’
‘No way, darling. We can’t go back. Your dad was always quite clear what he’d do if I ever tried to leave him.’ Mum was shivering in her thin nightie.
‘I’m scared.’
‘Me too, sweetheart.’ Then Mum took a deep breath. ‘No, sod it, I’m not going to be scared. I’m Lady Luck now, right? And my luck’s changed. Hey, maybe I’d better buy some more scratch cards? That’s what we’ll do, buy a whole load of scratch cards every day and eventually we’ll get lucky again.’
I didn’t know if Mum meant it. It seemed a crazy idea but I couldn’t come up with anything better.
We went back to bed and it took me ages to get to sleep. Then I swam among sharks – but when I awoke Mum was already up, dressed in a new blouse and skirt and her white leather jacket. She was pacing the floor in her new high heels.
I wished I could walk properly in mine. I’d tried to wear them out and turned my ankle so badly the heel snapped straight off the shoe. Mum said we could take them back and get a replacement.
‘Can we see about my shoes today, Mum?’
‘Maybe. If we’ve got time.’
‘We’re not going boring old shopping again, are we?’ Kendall said, sitting up in bed. His hair stuck up like dandelion fluff. ‘Can we go and see Big George being fed, Mum?’
‘Perhaps, pet. But we’ve got a lot else to do today. We’re going to start getting organized, right? I’m going to get a job. And find us a place to live. And get you two into schools. Simple!’ said Mum, laughing.
Kendall thought it really was simple and laughed too.
I knew it wasn’t simple at all. I was so worried I couldn’t eat much breakfast, though Mum told us to tuck in. Mum didn’t eat anything at all. She just had cup after cup of tea, going sip sip sip. Her voice still sounded dry and croaky when she asked for our bill at the reception desk. She went white when she saw how much it was, but she counted out the five-pound notes as nonchalantly as she could.
Then we went upstairs to pack. We had to nip out to the shops for another suitcase because we’d bought so much.
The nice fat maid was hoovering the corridor when we came back. Mum told her we were going, and tucked a couple of five-pound notes in her pocket. ‘Thanks for looking after us so well,’ s
he said.
‘It’s been a pleasure. I shall miss you lot ever so,’ she said, stooping with difficulty to give Kendall a big hug. She put her arm round me too and cuddled me close. ‘You’re a lovely girl, Lola Rose,’ she said. ‘Have you enjoyed your holiday?’
I looked at Mum.
‘We’re not exactly on holiday,’ said Mum. She raised her eyebrows significantly.
‘Aha,’ said the maid. ‘I get you.’
‘We’re going to make a new life for ourselves,’ said Mum. ‘I’m going to need to find some work. There aren’t any maids’ jobs going here, are there?’
‘Well, I could find out,’ she said. ‘But it’s a rubbish job, dear, especially for a pretty little thing like you. The money’s lousy, and very few people give a handsome tip like you did. You could get a good office job somewhere really smart. What are you trained for?’
‘I’m not trained for anything. I used to do a bit of modelling—’
‘There! I said you were pretty,’ said the maid.
‘But I’ve gone off a bit. I couldn’t get that sort of work now, not after having the two kids. And I’m not that great at computers or figures or stuff. I don’t think I could work in an office, I’d just get in a muddle.’ Mum nibbled at her thumbnail.
‘Well, it strikes me office work would get boring,’ she said comfortingly. ‘You seem like a people person. Maybe shop work might be more in your line? Showing off pretty clothes?’
‘Well maybe,’ said Mum, still biting her thumb. ‘There’s the tills though. I don’t know how you work them. Honestly, I’m just so thick.’
‘No, you’re not, Mum,’ I said, patting her.
It wasn’t her fault. Dad never let her do anything. He kept on telling her she was thick thick thick as a brick and she believed him.
‘Don’t worry, pet, they’ll teach you,’ said the maid. ‘They give you training. They even trained me how to make a bed, though I’ve been making six a day all my adult life.’
‘Six?’
‘My family. Well, there’s eight now, because my Junie’s here with my little grandson Marvin, bless him, though his little cot don’t count.’
Lola Rose Page 5