Clean Break

by Jacqueline Wilson

  Dancer changed her tactics. ‘It’s the same ring Dad gave you, so it’s the most special ring in the world whether it’s a real emerald or not. And I say it is real. As real as you and me.’

  I hugged her and looked at the ring again. Its glow was back, glittering green.

  I got back to Gran and Vita and Maxie just as Gran was looking at her watch and frowning.

  ‘You’re two minutes late,’ she said. ‘Come on, now, Maxie’s desperate for a wee and we’ll have to take him to the ladies with us.’

  ‘You ran off with my Dancer,’ said Vita, frowning. ‘But I still saved you half my cake.’

  She’d licked all the icing off, but it was still sweet of her.

  ‘Did you really go to the Bear Factory?’ said Vita, while Gran was mopping up Maxie and his damp dungarees. ‘I peered over the balcony railings and I thought I saw you on the escalator.’

  ‘It must have been somebody else,’ I said – like there were lots of big fat girls in too-tight jeans and a fairy T-shirt with a reindeer glove puppet on their right hand.

  I didn’t want to tell Vita about the jewellery shop. It was too awful and embarrassing. There was no point anyway. I couldn’t take us on holiday after all.

  But Gran could. The day we all broke up from school Gran made us wait for tea till Mum came home. Then she sent out for a giant pizza, opened a bottle of wine for her and Mum, with Coke for us kids.

  ‘What are we celebrating?’ said Mum.

  ‘The start of the summer holidays,’ I said.

  ‘I wish we were going on holiday,’ said Vita.

  ‘Let’s go to the seaside. The seaside with the helter-skelter,’ said Maxie.

  ‘Ssh, Maxie, Vita. We can’t go away on holiday, you know we can’t,’ I said.

  ‘Yes we can!’ said Gran. She opened up her handbag and produced a little folder of tickets. ‘It’s all booked up. We’re going to Spain for a week, all five of us, staying in a great big hotel by the sea.’

  ‘With a helter-skelter?’ Maxie persisted.

  Vita whooped with excitement. I whooped too, but I felt wrong-footed.

  ‘But Mum, how on earth have you managed it?’ said our mum, looking dazed.

  ‘Never you mind. I just felt we all badly needed a holiday,’ said Gran. ‘Now simmer down, kids.’

  We couldn’t simmer. We were boiling over with excitement. Vita started dancing round the room, showing us her version of Spanish dancing. Dancer demonstrated too, doing a mid-air flamenco. I stamped my foot in time. Maxie gave up on the helter-skelter and jumped wildly up and down.

  ‘For pity’s sake, mind my—’ said Gran. Then she stopped in mid sentence.

  I looked over at the china cabinet. There was something the matter. The little pink crinoline lady was spreading her skirt in solitary splendour on the top shelf. Where was the balloon seller and the little mermaid and the children in their white china nightgowns?

  ‘Gran, your china!’ I gasped.

  ‘Has someone stolen it?’ said Vita.

  ‘Stolen!’ said Maxie fearfully.

  ‘Don’t be so silly,’ Gran snapped. ‘I decided to weed out a few pieces. They were just gathering dust, no use to anyone.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, you loved your china collection!’ said our mum. ‘You sold it to pay for our holiday. It’s so sweet of you.’

  Mum gave Gran a big hug. I couldn’t help feeling jealous. I’d so wanted to take everyone on holiday by pawning my emerald ring.

  ‘Did you pawn your china, Gran?’ I asked.

  ‘Did I what?’ said Gran. ‘No, of course not, I sold it in the antique centre. Honestly, Em, where do you get all these silly ideas from?’

  ‘They’re not silly! If you pawn things you can get them back again when you’ve got enough money,’ I said. ‘Why do you always have to say I’m silly?’

  ‘Hey, hey, that’s enough, Em. Don’t cheek your gran, especially when she’s done such a lovely thing for us,’ said Mum sharply.

  I started to get seriously fed up with this holiday as the weeks went by. I had to act eternally grateful to Gran. She traded on it too. Every time I moaned when she told me to wash up or I argued over what I wanted to watch on the television or I locked myself into the bathroom to write my Dancer story, Gran would threaten me.

  ‘You’ll do those dishes because I say so. Vita’s too young, she’d only break them. Now make yourself useful or you won’t go on holiday!’

  ‘We’re not watching The Bill, it’s not suitable. Just because your dad was in it once doesn’t make it compulsory viewing for the rest of us. Now take that sulky look off your face or you won’t go on holiday.’

  ‘What on earth are you up to in there, Emily? For pity’s sake, come out of the bathroom at once! You watch it, young lady, or you won’t go on holiday.’

  I decided I didn’t want to go on holiday. I’d stay at home by myself and eat chocolate bars all day long and watch whatever I wanted on the telly and read all my Jenna Williams books and write my Dancer story in perfect peace.

  11

  I DIDN’T STAY at home. I went on holiday with Mum and Gran and Vita and Maxie. I actually had a fabulous time! The hotel was a big white tower overlooking the sea. Our two rooms were right at the very top, which was a bit of a problem. Maxie kicked and screamed at the very idea of going in the glass lift.

  Gran got cross and tried giving him a good talking to. Maxie got crosser still and screamed back. Mum tried bribing him with sweets. Maxie swallowed them quickly but still refused to step into the lift.

  ‘So what are we going to do? March up twelve flipping flights of stairs?’ Gran said.

  ‘I’ll walk up the stairs with him,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Em. You couldn’t get up one flight without huffing and puffing,’ said Gran.

  ‘I’m not being silly,’ I said, through gritted teeth. ‘Come on, Maxie, I’ll take you. We’ll race up those stairs, won’t we?’

  We raced up the first flight of stairs. Then we slowed down a little. My heart was thumping a bit but I wasn’t huffing and puffing. We went up the second flight and the third. Maxie hung on my hand, dragging his feet.

  ‘Come on, Maxie, keep going,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t want to. I’m tired,’ Maxie said, flopping down on the stairs.

  ‘Do you want to try the lift again?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then it’s stairs or nothing.’ I bent over him, feeling the sharp little bones sticking out at the back of his T-shirt. ‘Are these wings? Yes, they are! They’ll help you fly up. Come on, Maxie, we’ll fly like Peter Pan. Wheeee! Wheeee!’

  We ‘flew’ for another couple of flights. Then we both had to have a little sit down. Maxie put his head on his knees.

  ‘It’s too high up,’ he moaned.

  ‘Yes, it is, ever so high. Let’s pretend it’s a mountain and we’re climbing way way up to the very top. When we get there we’ll plant a flag on the summit and get filmed for television.’

  ‘Like the special videos?’ said Maxie.

  We had three special videos of Dad. One was his proper speaking part in The Bill. The second was an EastEnders market crowd scene where Dad gets to smile and wave though he doesn’t actually say anything, The third was an advert for a mobile phone. That always made me cry because I kept remembering Dad in the kitchen at Christmas. I still watched it though. When Dad first left at Christmas I watched the videos over and over, every single day. I still watched them at least once a week. So did Mum and Vita. Maxie never seemed to be watching, but he was often in the room.

  I put my arms round him. ‘I was just pretending, Maxie,’ I said. ‘We’re not really going to be filmed. Gran’s brought her camera though, so we’ll have photos of us on holiday. We’ll take a photo of you looking all cute in your new shorts and your big boy’s baseball cap, yeah?’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Maxie, his chin still on his knees.

  ‘Are you thinking about Dad, Maxie?’ I whispered.

 
; Maxie shook his head, but I knew he was.

  ‘Dad would give you a ride on his back up the stairs, wouldn’t he?’ I said. ‘But I can’t, Maxie. I just can’t manage to carry you. I want someone to carry me! But we’re going to get up these stupid stairs just to show Gran, right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Maxie.

  He stood up, flexing his little arms. Then he tried to take hold of me.

  ‘What are you doing? Hey, that tickles!’

  ‘I’m trying to carry you,’ Maxie said.

  ‘Oh Maxie, you’re so sweet! You could never ever ever pick up a big fat lump like me,’ I said. ‘Come on, we’ll hold hands and take turns helping each other, right?’

  We climbed on upwards – and met Mum, rushing down to find us, worried we’d collapsed on the way.

  Vita had already taken charge of the bedroom, commandeering the entire double bed, and all of the chest of drawers, spreading out her T-shirts and shorts and fairy dress and disco-dancing costume so that each drawer had one garment. She insisted that Dancer wanted the little single bed all to herself too.

  There’s one advantage of being the big sister – especially when you’re a very big sister. In two minutes Vita had been thoroughly vanquished and squashed until she begged for mercy, and I had allocated the bedroom more fairly. Vita was left with half the double bed and one drawer. Dancer stayed in her single bed because Maxie pulled the mattress off, made a cave and huddled there quite happily with his tattered teddies. (We’d had to bring them with us, in a bulging laundry bag.)

  We had our very own ensuite bathroom. We tried the shower taps to see if they were working. They were working a little too efficiently. Mum just laughed when she saw us.

  ‘Never mind! Let’s go and check out the swimming pool, seeing as you’re all soaked anyway.’

  The pool was fantastic, a big turquoise rectangle with green deckchairs and sun loungers spread all around, with a little poolside café in case you got peckish. We spent day after day there, Gran and Mum lying on sun loungers and smoothing on suncream and reading their fat paperbacks, and Vita and Maxie and me having six swims a day. Well, Maxie didn’t technically swim. He lay on his tummy in the paddling pool and kicked his legs and pretended he was swimming. Vita got brave enough to come in the big pool with me but she insisted on wearing her inflated armbands and a rubber ring, and she screamed if she ever went under. I was the only one who swam properly.

  I’d learned to swim at school. It had been total agony having everyone staring at me in my swimming costume and making horrible comments. I was terribly shy of swimming in public in the hotel pool, even though Mum had bought me a new big blue costume and insisted I looked lovely in it.

  ‘Yeah, like a lovely blue whale,’ I said, and made mournful whale whistles.

  I thought I’d stick out appallingly but there were a couple of other fat kids who were dashing about in teeny weeny costumes, not seeming at all self-conscious. I tried not to care what I looked like either. I shrugged off my big towelling dressing gown and jumped into the pool.

  I discovered something extraordinary. I was good at swimming. I’d only swum widths at school. Now I swam lengths. Once I’d relaxed and got used to it I found I could swim and swim and swim up and down the pool, faster than all the other kids, even faster than a lot of grown-ups!

  They’d only taught us breaststroke at school. I wished I knew how to do some other strokes. I watched this nice dad showing his little boy how to do freestyle but the kid was nearly as wimpy as Maxie and kept whining that he was getting water up his nose. I couldn’t remember if our dad could swim. I wished he was with us to teach me, standing beside me, smooth and tanned with his pigtail sleek down his brown back.

  I tried to copy what the dad was saying. He spotted me windmilling my arms and kicking my legs.

  ‘That’s it, love! You’ve got it. You’re a great little swimmer. Here, curve your fingers more, like this.’

  He ended up teaching me while his little boy Edward played ball with our Maxie. Neither of them could catch but they had a lot of fun running after each ball.

  Edward’s dad told Mum and Gran that I was a real little water baby and ought to have proper lessons. Mum gave me a hug and said she was proud of me. Gran asked straight out if Edward had a mum. She looked disappointed when she found out she’d just gone on a shopping trip.

  ‘That’s such a shame,’ said Gran. ‘I thought you’d do just fine for my daughter!’

  ‘Mum!’ our mum hissed, mortified.

  Mum and Gran had a little row about it later when we were all having ice creams.

  ‘Will you please stop trying to pair me up with someone! It’s dead embarrassing. I’m not interested.’

  ‘It’s no use wasting your life hoping Frankie will come back,’ said Gran.

  ‘He will come back, he will come back, he will come back,’ I mouthed at Vita.

  She nodded and mouthed it back to me.

  I counted the cherries in my ice-cream sundae. One – he will come back. Two – he won’t. Three – he will come back. Four – he won’t. Five – he WILL! I crammed all five cherries into my mouth at once and choked, so that Mum had to thump me on the back.

  ‘Stop being such a greedy-guts, Em. And how many calories are in that ice cream? What about your diet?’ said Gran.

  ‘Mum, give it a rest! She’s on holiday!’ said my mum.

  ‘All right, all right, it’s just that it would be a shame to give up on it just as she’s doing so well.’

  ‘What do you mean, Gran?’ I asked.

  ‘You’ve lost a bit of weight, love,’ said Mum.

  ‘Have I?’ I said.

  I peered down at myself. I still looked horribly blue-whaleish. Maybe there was just a little bit less of a tummy. Was this just because I’d stopped eating my secret snacks? How could going without one little chocolate bar – or two, or maybe even three – each day make so much difference? I’d carried on saving up all the money. I hadn’t been able to take Mum on holiday but I could take her out for a special meal.

  ‘I’m going to take us all out for our dinner,’ I announced proudly.

  ‘We don’t need to go out,’ said Gran. ‘We’re getting dinner at the hotel. It’s already paid for.’

  ‘I want to take us out for dinner,’ I said. ‘I want to buy Mum a special meal for a holiday treat. Look, I’ve got money, heaps of it. I can change it into euros easy-peasy and pay for it myself.’

  I delved into my school bag, scrabbled through my cardie and beach towel and flip-flops, my Dancer notebook and my three favourite Jenna Williams books, and right at the bottom found the fat envelope chinking with gold coins. I shook it like a tambourine.

  ‘For pity’s sake, Em, have you robbed a slot machine?’ said Gran.

  ‘Oh lovie, you’ve saved all your treat money! Months of it!’ said Mum, and she gave me a big hug. ‘OK then, my wonderful generous girl, you take us out for a meal tonight.’

  We all changed into our best things after a day’s sunbathing and swimming. I wore the only dress I like, a deep green silky shirt-dress that hangs loosely. Mum plaited the top of my hair and tied it with a green velvet ribbon. My emerald sparkled on my finger. Vita sparkled all over in her favourite rainbow disco outfit, and Dancer had pink ribbons tied around her antlers. Maxie wore his baseball cap back to front and wouldn’t tuck his shirt into his shorts so he looked cool (well, he thought so). Mum wore her white dress with a silver chain belt and her special silver sandals.

  Gran scoffed at all of us and said she wasn’t going to bother changing, but at the last minute she rushed up to her room. She came down wearing a pink lacy top, pink strappy sandals just as high as Mum’s, and the black jeans Dad bought for her at Christmas. She hadn’t worn them since. We hadn’t known she’d even taken them on holiday.

  ‘What are you all staring at?’ Gran said grumpily, but she couldn’t help smiling a little bit. She had pink lipstick on too.

  ‘You look pretty, Gran!’ said Vi
ta.

  ‘You look like a lady!’ said Maxie.

  ‘Oh, thanks very much, our Maxie. So I normally look like a man, do I?’ said Gran, pretending to swat him.

  ‘He means you look a total glamour puss,’ said Mum. ‘Hey, this is my night out. What are you doing upstaging me? You don’t look like my mum any more. You look like my sister.’ Then Mum smiled at me. ‘And you look so gorgeous and grown up in your green dress that you look like my sister too, Em.’

  It was so lovely to see Mum being all happy and bubbly with her white dress showing off her new tan. I felt thrilled to be giving her a real treat.

  I did get a bit worried when we walked along the beach road into town and couldn’t find a good place to eat. There were lots of burger and chip places with special menus in English but they were all a bit noisy and messy and Gran got sniffy about holidaymakers who didn’t have the sense to sample the local cuisine.

  When we got near the fish market there were lots more restaurants displaying plates of squid and octopus with wriggly slimy tentacles, and huge weird slabs of fish with scary faces. Gran shut up sharpish, because this food was a bit too local for any of us.

  We trudged on to the posh end of town and found a proper restaurant, all white linen tablecloths and flowers on the table and waiters in evening clothes.

  ‘This looks a lovely place, Mum!’ I said, clutching her arm.

  ‘Hang on a tick. Let’s look at the menu,’ said Mum.

  I peered round a fat man in a blue shirt and squinted at the menu. It was all in Spanish, but I could understand the prices. My heart started thudding. I’d thought I was so rich – but I didn’t have enough to pay for one meal, let alone five.

  ‘I think it looks a horrible uncomfy snobby sort of place. I’d hate to go there,’ Mum said quickly.

  ‘Well, where are we going to go?’ said Gran. She looked at her watch. ‘We could rush back to the hotel. We’ve missed the starters but they’ll probably still serve us the main course.’

  ‘I don’t mind just having pudding,’ said Vita.

  ‘Pudding!’ said Maxie. ‘I want pudding!’ He rubbed his tummy emphatically.