Clean Break

by Jacqueline Wilson

  10

  ‘YOU DIDN’T SEE him, did you?’ Gran said, when we got home.

  ‘We didn’t see my dad, but we saw Em’s!’ said Vita.

  Gran thought she was making it up at first. Then she got furious with Mum.

  ‘You mean you didn’t pin him down about making maintenance payments for Em? For pity’s sake, Julie, what are you like? There was a golden opportunity. Why do you let all these awful guys in your life walk all over you? Why won’t you try to screw them for everything you can get? I know that pig doesn’t give a damn about his own daughter, but he’s her father and he should pay for her.’

  ‘Stop getting at Mum, Gran,’ I said. ‘My dad does give a damn, he wanted to take me out, so there! But I don’t want to so I don’t have to, do I, Mum?’

  ‘That’s right, darling,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right, you all do what you want. What about me? When can I do what I want?’ said Gran. ‘I’ve worked hard all my life. I’ve managed on my own. I’ve brought you up single-handed, Julie. Just when I’ve got to the time of life when I thought I could ease off, have a bit of fun, take a holiday like anyone else, I’m landed with you and your three kids and I’m the muggins paying all the bills.’

  ‘I’m trying to pay my way, Mum, you know I am. Once I get the credit cards paid off I’ll be able to pay a lot more,’ my mum said, her face crumpling.

  ‘Look what you’ve done, Gran, you’ve made her cry,’ I said furiously.

  ‘Oh, it’s easy to give up and burst into tears. Did you see me crying when that con-man Frankie stole my savings?’

  ‘He didn’t steal them, Mum, he just borrowed them,’ Mum sobbed.

  ‘Oh yes, and he’ll pay it back? And pay off all your debts too?’ Gran glared at Vita and Maxie and me. ‘You kids think your dad’s such a lovely guy for giving you all these ridiculous treats and presents – and flipping emerald rings! He didn’t pay a penny for them. Your mum and I are the poor fools who’ve ended up forking out for the lot.’

  ‘Shut up, Gran! My dad is lovely,’ Vita yelled. ‘I looked and looked and looked for him at the Green Fair and it’s so mean, because Em got to see her dad and I want mine.’ She started shouting it over and over again, almost having a Maxie-type tantrum. He was crying too, just so he wouldn’t be overlooked.

  ‘There! I told you going to the stupid Green Fair was a silly idea. The kids have got all worked up and over-excited,’ said Gran.

  I wondered if she knew how much she twisted things round. Did she really think she was right all the time? Did she like making us all feel bad?

  I could hear Gran and Mum carrying on rowing all the time I was upstairs with Vita and Maxie. I put Dancer on my hand and told them a long story about the special Snowy White Fairs they have in Lapland. When I came downstairs at last I found Mum and Gran sitting on the sofa together. Mum was still crying but Gran had her arm round her.

  ‘Come here, Em,’ said Gran, holding out her other arm. ‘Come and have a cuddle.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said, sitting on the spare chair instead. I flipped through Gran’s Hello! magazine as if I couldn’t care less.

  ‘Ooh, look at Little Miss Sulky,’ said Gran.

  I did my best to ignore her. I stared hard at Hello!, imagining living in a huge house with white sofas and gold chandeliers and televisions hanging on the walls like a painting. I pretended Dad was a truly famous movie star and Mum had her own chic chain of hairdressing salons and I was their thin-as-a-pin daughter, sitting at their feet and smiling sweetly at the camera.

  ‘What are you smirking at, Em?’ said Gran.

  My smile soured to a scowl. I still didn’t say a single word. I didn’t even say goodnight when I went up to bed.

  Mum waited until Vita and Maxie were asleep and then she crept in to see me. She eased Vita over to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers with me.

  ‘Gran’s sorry, Em.’

  ‘She didn’t say so.’

  ‘No, well, she doesn’t ever say sorry, you know that. But she knows she went too far.’

  ‘I hate her,’ I said.

  ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘She hates me!’

  ‘Of course she doesn’t. She loves you. She loves all of us. That’s why she gets so worked up. She’s not really cross with us, she’s cross with your dad. Both your dads!’ Mum gave a little sniff. ‘It was so weird seeing your real dad again, Em. He seems so different now. Maybe he was just horrible with us. He looked like he was happy with that other woman and the little boys. I’m sure he doesn’t batter them.’

  Mum sniffed again. I felt her cheeks in the dark to see if she was crying.

  ‘Don’t be scared, Mum. If he comes round to batter us we’ll call the police, quick.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that, love. No, I’m just thinking, maybe there’s something about me that makes men go funny. Maybe I’m just a useless partner.’

  ‘You’re a brilliant partner, Mum. You didn’t make him horrid to us. He was just mean and he wanted to shout and scare us. He hit us,’ I said. ‘Mum, I wish he wasn’t my real dad.’

  ‘He wasn’t all bad, pet. Maybe you’d like him if you got to know him now.’

  I wanted to think he was totally bad. I didn’t want to like him. I loved my new dad – even though he’d gone off and left us.

  ‘I’m never ever living with any man,’ I said.

  ‘That’s silly, pet. You can’t say that just because things haven’t worked out for me.’

  ‘No one would have me anyway!’

  ‘Of course they would! You’re a lovely lovely girl.’

  ‘All the boys at school think I’m rubbish. They call me Fatso and The Blob and they all puff out their cheeks, imitating me.’

  ‘Oh darling, that’s horrible.’

  ‘It’s OK. I call them names back. But I am a Fatso Blob. I take after my real dad, don’t I?’

  ‘You’re not a bit like your dad. You’re a sweet kind gentle caring girl.’

  ‘I look like him. If I wore a black vest and jeans I’d be just like a little replica.’

  ‘You’re nothing like him,’ Mum lied. ‘You’re not like him, you’re not like me. You’re you, my lovely Em. I think it’s rot we’re all supposed to take after our parents. I certainly don’t want to be like Gran!’ Mum paused. ‘For pity’s sake, Julie,’ she said, in Gran’s thin whiny voice.

  We both burst out laughing. Vita woke up and sleepily complained that we were shaking the bed and would we please stop now, immediately.

  ‘I think Vita takes after Gran,’ I whispered to Mum. ‘She’s bossier than her already.’

  Gran nagged just as much the next morning, when we were all rushing off to school and work, but that evening she made us spaghetti bolognese, with strawberries and ice cream for pudding. She gave me an extra scoop of ice cream and let me scrape round the empty carton afterwards.

  ‘But it’s back on that diet tomorrow, Em, OK?’ Gran said.

  I did wonder about trying harder. I still mostly chose chips instead of salad at school dinners but I didn’t buy secret supplies of KitKats and Mars bars and Smarties with my pocket money now. I still wanted them desperately but I wanted to save all my treat money. I wanted to save up so I could pay Gran some of the money we owed. Then she’d maybe stop moaning.

  Mum was trying hard too, taking on as much extra work as she could. The Pink Palace didn’t open till midday now because they got so few morning customers. Mum made herself some ‘Good Fairy’ cards using stationery from leftover Fairyland stock, saying she was willing to fly round to clients’ houses and cut and blow-dry their hair between nine and twelve. She started to get booked up most mornings, and she had a special regular job on Wednesdays at an old people’s day centre, snipping her way through silvery locks, one old lady after another at a special £5 rate.

  ‘I have to cram as many in as possible, doing them for that rate,’ said Mum. ‘It’s a bit like sheep-shearing. I’ll
be taking hold of them by their Scholl sandals, throwing them over my shoulder and clipping their perms into crewcuts soon.’

  Mum got up even earlier on Saturday mornings, doing special wedding hairdos, often fitting in the bride, chief bridesmaid and the bride’s mother before rushing to start her stint at the Palace.

  ‘Imagine if I got mixed up, and dyed all the wedding clients purple and magenta and gave twee mother-of-the-bride shampoo and sets to all the goths at the Palace,’ said Mum.

  She tried to make a joke of it, but she was so tired now that she fell asleep as soon as she sat down on the sofa when she got home.

  ‘Mum’s no fun now,’ said Vita. ‘She won’t make me up like a grown-up lady or play Fairy Queens or do anything now, she just falls asleep.’

  ‘Yes, I was telling her about this bad boy who pushed me and she didn’t listen, her eyes kept closing,’ Maxie said indignantly.

  ‘Mum’s tired out,’ I said. ‘Leave her alone. I’ll make you up and play Fairy Queens with you, Vita. Just let me give Maxie a cuddle first and find out all about this bad boy.’

  I knew I had to be very grown up and understanding but I wished Mum wasn’t so worn out. She was skinnier than ever, with dark circles under her eyes.

  Gran was worried about her too.

  ‘You’re exhausting yourself, Julie. You don’t have to take on quite so many clients. Never mind the blooming money. I wanted your deadbeat missing bloke to pay his debts. I didn’t mean you should work yourself to death on his behalf.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ Mum murmured, rubbing her forehead and yawning.

  ‘You need a holiday. We all do,’ said Gran.

  ‘Yes, well, holidays cost money,’ said Mum. ‘We’ll have to make do this year. Maybe I’ll be able to take the kids on a day out here and there.’

  I started to think and think and think about a summer holiday. Jenny was going to the seaside in France, ending up with a day in EuroDisney. Yvonne was going to Spain for a week with her mum, and CenterParcs for three days with her dad.

  I couldn’t help daydreaming for days about Dad inviting us on holiday with him. We didn’t have to go away anywhere. We’d have been happy to stay in one room with him (just so long as Sarah wasn’t there too).

  I kept thinking of that evening at the seaside. It sparkled in my mind like the fairy lights on the end of the pier. I wondered what would have happened if we’d stayed the night like Dad suggested. Would he have kept us? Sometimes, when Mum was tired and Gran was snappy, I’d wish and wish we could live with Dad instead.

  Then I’d feel desperately guilty and try harder than ever to be good to Mum. I didn’t always try to be good to Gran.

  ‘I wish I could take Mum on holiday,’ I whispered to Dancer.

  ‘Lapland’s pretty in the summer,’ she said.

  ‘I’d like to take Mum somewhere really warm and sunny so she’d lie and sunbathe and get brown and look happy again,’ I said.

  ‘You could try wishing,’ said Dancer.

  I took my hand out of her head and looked at my beautiful emerald ring. I held it up so that it caught the light and wished as hard as I could.

  Then I looked at the ring again.

  I kept on looking at it.

  I wondered how much emerald rings cost. Dad said he’d bought it second hand, but Mum and Gran said they thought it was still worth hundreds of pounds.

  If I had hundreds of pounds we could all go on holiday.

  I thought about it day after day. I loved my emerald ring so much. It was the best present in the whole world. I wasn’t allowed to wear it very often. Obviously I couldn’t wear it to school, and Mum didn’t like me wearing it outside just in case I lost it. I wore it at home whenever I could, but mostly it was kept in its little box, hidden in my knicker drawer in case of burglars.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of selling it so that I’d lost it for ever. But maybe, just maybe, I could pawn it?

  I’d read about pawn shops in one of my favourite Jenna Williams books, The Victorian Project. I knew loads and loads of poor people pawned their rings and their watches and even their best Sunday suits back in olden times. I wasn’t sure you could still pawn things nowadays.

  There was an old jewellery shop in an alley by the market place. It had three golden balls hanging above its doorway. It used to be a pawn shop. Maybe it still was one. And maybe it might be interested in my beautiful emerald ring.

  I didn’t know how I would ever raise the money to get it back again, but at least it wouldn’t be selling it for ever. Maybe they’d display it in the window so I could go and look at it.

  I got my chance the very next Saturday, when Mum was doing a wedding and then going on to the Palace. Gran had to take Vita, Maxie and me into town to buy new sandals. We all needed them badly. I was still stomping around in my big lace-up winter shoes. They were so small for me I felt like I was lacing my toes into corsets every time I tied them up. Vita was wearing her winter buckle shoes too. My last year’s sandals were still way too big for her, and she insisted she’d sooner go barefoot than wear my horrible scuffed cast-offs anyway. Maxie had Vita’s old sandals and he didn’t mind wearing them one bit, but they were pink jelly plastic. Maxie adored them but when he wore them to school everyone said they were girls’ shoes and sniggered at him.

  It was a very long and fraught morning. Gran lost her temper, Maxie howled, Vita sobbed and I despaired, because my new flat black sandals were so big they looked like flippers.

  ‘For pity’s sake, what a fuss!’ said Gran. ‘Let’s go up to the food court and have a cup of tea. I’ll treat all three of you to a cake if you’ll only shut up, the lot of you.’

  ‘Um, Gran, you said shut up!’ said Maxie.

  ‘Can’t we go down to McDonald’s instead? I want a McFlurry ice cream,’ said Vita.

  My mouth was watering at the thought of cake or ice cream, but this was my big chance.

  ‘I’m not going to have anything. I want to stick to my diet,’ I said.

  ‘That’s the ticket, Em,’ said Gran, looking surprised.

  ‘But it’s torture watching everyone else eat, so please may I go and look at the bears being made in the Bear Factory while you’re in the food court?’

  Gran hesitated. ‘Well, if you promise you’ll go straight there and not talk to any strangers and then come right back here in fifteen minutes . . . then OK,’ said Gran. ‘Only take that blooming glove puppet off your hand – you look gormless, a great big girl like you.’

  ‘No, Dancer wants to see the bears too,’ I said. ‘Don’t you, Dancer? You want to see the special bear ballet dancers with their pink satin shoes, isn’t that right?’

  I made Dancer nod emphatically, her antlers waving in the air.

  ‘It’s not fair, she’s my puppet,’ said Vita.

  ‘Yes, give her back to Vita,’ said Gran, but she was distracted by Maxie screaming at the escalators.

  I dashed off before she could stop me. If I took Dancer off she’d see I was wearing the emerald ring on my finger. I wanted Dancer’s company anyway. It felt a bit weird and scary going right out of the Flowerfields shopping centre and over to the market place. I knew Gran would kill me if she ever found out.

  I ran all the way to the jewellery shop, my heart thumping. I checked on the one, two, three golden balls dangling above the door. I wasted two of my precious minutes pretending to look at the window display, too scared to step inside.

  ‘Go on,’ said Dancer, and she put her front hooves on the handle and pulled the door open.

  I stood in the middle of the shop while fifty clocks ticked and tocked at me all around the room. An old man and a young man stood at either side, behind counters. The young man sighed at the sight of me, but the old man cocked his head on one side and looked obliging.

  ‘Can I help you, young lady?’ he said.

  ‘I hope so.’ I moved towards him, trying to tug Dancer off. My hand was so hot and sticky it was a struggle. ‘Is this a pawn sho
p?’

  ‘Well, we do offer a loan service. But not to children, I’m afraid,’ said the old man.

  I thought quickly. ‘Oh, this isn’t for me. This is for my mum. She’s too embarrassed to come herself. She wants to know how much she’d get if she pawned this emerald ring.’ I peeled the last piece of Dancer off and flapped my hot hand in the air, flourishing my beautiful emerald. Its green glow sparkled all around the room.

  The young man clucked his teeth. ‘Does your mum know you’ve got her ring?’ he said.

  ‘Of course she does. I said. Do you think I’m a liar?’ I said, getting hotter and hotter.

  ‘May I see the ring?’ said the old man, still courteous.

  I had to lick my finger until it was slippery enough to ease the ring off. The old man took hold of it gingerly. He held it to the light. Then he shook his head at me.

  ‘Why don’t you go home and stop wasting our time,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean? Won’t you take my emerald – Mum’s emerald?’

  ‘It isn’t an emerald. It’s green glass in a gilt setting. You used to be able to buy them in Woolworths for a shilling. It’s not worth much more now.’

  ‘Funny joke, dear,’ said the young man, poker-faced.

  ‘It’s not a joke. It is an emerald, I know it is. My dad got it from an antique fair. I know he paid heaps of money for it,’ I gabbled.

  ‘Then he was conned, dear,’ said the old man, handing me my emerald back. My fingers closed over it protectively.

  I ran out of the shop. I heard them laughing behind me.

  I poked my finger into my poor ring, clutched Dancer and ran. Tears pricked my eyes. When I got to the Flowerfields shopping centre I took deep breaths, trying to stop snivelling.

  ‘There there, sweetheart,’ said Dancer, wiping my eyes tenderly. ‘Take no notice of those idiots. They’re the con men. They were probably just trying to trick you out of your emerald. Of course it’s real.’

  I looked at it on my finger. Just for a moment its green glow dulled. I saw a chip of coloured glass stuck in cheap gilt, a Christmas cracker ring.