Everyone talked like crazy in the car going back, telling their favourite parts, arguing about which was the dreamiest boy in McTavish, singing snatches of song. Skye stood up to repeat her little dance routine but the chauffeur told her to sit right down again. Dad didn’t tell Skye off. He winked at her. She winked back and then turned her head and sniggered at Emily and Arabella.
Dad wasn’t in a winking mood with me. I knew he was furious because I wouldn’t go up on the stage. I didn’t want him to start ranting in front of everyone – but I was getting very scared about being left on my own with him.
We dropped Rhona off last and we gave each other a very big hug.
‘Thank you so so so much for Birthday, Rhona,’ I said again.
‘I’m so so so glad you like him,’ said Rhona. She paused and then whispered in my ear, ‘We’ll let Skye still think she’s my best friend but really I want to be your best friend, Beauty.’
‘Come on, girls, no need for all these grand farewells, you’ll be seeing each other at school on Monday!’ said Dad. ‘Off you go, Rosa.’
‘Rhona!’ I said, giving her another hug.
Her mum and dad must have been watching out for her because her front door opened and Mr and Mrs Marshall were there on the doorstep waving to her. Rhona gave me one last hug and then ran up her garden path to her home.
‘Is she the one with the swimming pool?’ said Dad. ‘It must be the size of a footbath because those houses haven’t got any back garden to speak of. It’s a tacky house too. Look at the state of the paintwork! Wouldn’t you think that guy would take a bit of pride in his own house and keep it up to scratch? I don’t know why you’re acting so pally with that little kiddie, she isn’t anything special. Why on earth don’t you make friends with that little blonde poppet Skye?’
Dad remembered her name all right.
‘I don’t like Skye,’ I mumbled.
‘Don’t be so silly! You could take a few tips from that girl. She’s not backward in coming forward. She was off like a rocket when she got the chance to go on stage. Why wouldn’t you go, Beauty? That’s the whole blooming point of the show, to celebrate your birthday in style. Why the hell do you think I forked out a thousand quid for the tickets? You were supposed to get up there and enjoy yourself and show off to all your little friends, not sit quivering in your seat like a great fat pudding.’
‘Gerry!’ said Mum.
‘I’m sick to death of the two of you,’ Dad said, his voice raising, not caring that the chauffeur could hear every word. ‘I work my butt off for both of you, flinging money at you like it was confetti and yet I never get one word of gratitude. You’re both sitting there with your faces tripping you. I’ve spent a small fortune on your birthday, Beauty, and yet you haven’t the wits to make the most of it. You stand in the corner like you’re some little saddo no-friends while all the other girls bounce about and have a laugh and enjoy themselves.’
‘Please don’t, Gerry!’
‘You’re no better, Dilly. You won’t chat properly with the other mums. You act like you can’t say boo to a goose half the time. I buy you lovely clothes and jewellery so you can show yourself off and what do you do? Only go and lose your diamond collar! How can you lose it, for pity’s sake? I know you’re a fool but surely even you can do up the clasp of a necklace?’
‘I know I’m a fool,’ said Mum. ‘I’m a fool to let you talk to me like this. I’m even more of a fool to let you say such unkind things to poor Beauty.’
‘Poor Beauty!’ Dad reached over and gave me a shake. ‘You’re a little slyboots, miss. How dare you suck up to that Rosa like that and ask her to bring you that wretched rabbit.’
‘I didn’t, Dad.’
‘Don’t you lie to me, I won’t have it,’ said Dad. ‘And don’t think you can get the better of me either. You’ve a long way to go before you can outwit your old dad.’
He had an awful gleam in his eye. I didn’t understand until we got home. I went running right through the house and out of the French windows to see Birthday.
The hutch door was swinging open. I stared at it. I knew I’d shut it up properly. I’d carefully checked the latch to see it was secure. I held my breath, bending down to see if Birthday was still there, huddled in his bedding. I scrabbled my hands through the straw desperately but it was no use. He was gone.
I looked wildly round the patio and then started searching the garden, going down on my hands and knees to peer under every bush.
‘Beauty?’ Mum came out onto the patio. She saw the empty rabbit hutch. ‘Oh no!’
‘I left it latched up properly, Mum, I know I did,’ I cried. ‘I don’t know how it came undone.’
‘I do,’ said Mum. ‘Gerry? Gerry! Come here!’
Dad came out onto the patio too.
‘Quite bawling at me like I’m your pet dog, Dilly!’ he blustered. ‘Beauty, what the hell are you doing? Stand up, you’re getting your fancy new dress filthy!’
‘I’m looking for Birthday,’ I sobbed.
‘Who? Oh, that damn rabbit. Has it escaped already?’ said Dad.
‘You deliberately let him out,’ said Mum. ‘You must have sneaked out here while Beauty and all the girls were getting into the limo.’
‘I didn’t sneak,’ said Dad, putting his hands on his hips. He stuck his chin up belligerently. ‘Yes, I let the rabbit out. I’ve always made it plain, I’m not having animals all over the place.’
‘But he’s mine,’ I wept. ‘How could you let him out, Dad? He’s so little. He’ll be so frightened. Oh, Birthday, where are you?’
‘Stop talking nonsense. He’ll be chomping grass somewhere with all his little bunny friends,’ said Dad. ‘That’s the place for rabbits, out in the wild. Now stop that baby crying. You look a sight with your face all screwed up like that. There’s no need to make such a stupid fuss. You’ve got your lovely pink toy rabbit to play with.’
I barely listened to Dad. I carried on searching. Mum helped too.
‘He must be here somewhere. He couldn’t have burrowed all the way under the fence, could he?’ I said.
‘He might have squeezed out at the end, behind the shed,’ said Mum. ‘I think there’s a bit of a gap in the fence there.’ She ran to look and then gasped. She staggered backwards, her hands over her mouth.
‘What? What is it, Mum?’ I said, getting to my feet.
‘Don’t come any nearer, Beauty! Stay where you are,’ Mum said.
She was shaking all over, as if she was going to fall down. I couldn’t help running to her, though she shouted at me to keep away. Then I saw why. Birthday was lying limply beside the shed, his little furry body and his soft paws. But his head mostly wasn’t there.
I started screaming. Mum put her arms tight round me, pushing my head against her chest so that I couldn’t see poor torn Birthday any more. Dad ran over too.
‘Oh God. How disgusting! A fox must have got it. That’s animals for you,’ he said.
‘You monster,’ said Mum.
‘What? Look, I didn’t tear its head off its shoulders. I wasn’t to know a fox would get it. Still, that’s what happens when you have pets. Come here, Beauty, have a cuddle with your dad.’
I shrank away from him. ‘I bloody hate you!’ I sobbed.
‘What?’ Dad stared at me, shaking his head. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.’
‘Stop your stupid threats, Gerry. You sicken me,’ said Mum.
‘I sicken you?’ said Dad. ‘How dare you say that to me! I dragged you out the gutter, spent a fortune on you, gave you this beautiful home—’
‘It isn’t a beautiful home, it’s a living hell,’ said Mum.
‘Well, if you don’t like it then get out,’ said Dad. ‘Go on, push off out of it, you ungrateful cow.’
‘All right, I shall,’ said Mum.
‘Mum!’ I said, clutching her.
‘And you can take the kid with you,’ said Dad.
&nb
sp; ‘Of course,’ said Mum.
Dad stared at her and then folded his arms. ‘Right then. Sod off, both of you,’ he said.
‘We will, just as soon as we’ve buried poor Birthday,’ said Mum.
‘You’re going to do what? You’re not digging a hole in my lawn,’ said Dad.
Mum took no notice. She went to the shed and got a big garden spade and a smaller one for me.
‘We’ll dig here, Beauty,’ she said. ‘Go and change out of your dress and boots. Put your jeans on and come back and help.’
I did what I was told, still sobbing. When I got back to the garden Dad was digging too, sighing and swearing. Mum carried on, digging as well, though her hands kept slipping and her spade didn’t cut cleanly through the earth. She’d taken her high heels off but she couldn’t put her bare foot on the spade and push down. I gently took the spade from her and started digging properly. Mum straightened up, staring over at the remains of Birthday.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she said, going into the house.
I hated being left alone with Dad. He was crimson in the face and sweating badly.
‘This is all your fault,’ he said to me. ‘You would go on and on about wanting a rabbit. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.’
I didn’t answer, I just went on digging. Mum came back with a pillowcase. She went up to Birth-day’s body.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Dad.
‘No, I will,’ said Mum.
She retched as she touched Birthday, getting her hands all bloody, but she wrapped the pillowcase round him and carried him at arm’s length over to us.
‘Say goodbye to him, Beauty,’ said Mum.
‘Goodbye, darling little Birthday,’ I said, touching the pillowcase.
I could feel him underneath, still and stiff. Mum let me lay him in the bottom of his grave and then we started covering him with earth.
‘Let me do it, for God’s sake. You’ve got to fill it in evenly so the turf fits back on top,’ said Dad.
‘All right, you do it, Gerry,’ said Mum.
She took me by the hand and we walked into the house. Mum looked at me.
‘Go and pack a suitcase, Beauty. Three or four outfits, a few of your favourite things, washing stuff, pyjamas, just as if we’re going on holiday,’ she said.
‘So we’re really leaving?’ I said shakily.
‘Yes, we are,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t want to stay, do you?’
‘No, I want to go with you!’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ said Mum. ‘Quick then!’
I chose my new grey dress and boots, my other jeans, a denim skirt, three T-shirts and a thick jumper. I packed my new felt tips and my drawing book, my Sam and Lily folder and my new DVD, and A Little Princess. The giant pink rabbit leered at me in a corner as I snatched things frantically and squashed them into my suitcase.
‘Ready, babe?’ said Mum.
She’d got her suitcase packed too. She carried them both out to her car.
‘Let’s go now, Mum, while Dad’s still round the back.’
‘No, we’ll say goodbye properly,’ said Mum.
We waited in the hall, both of us trembling. Dad came in from the garden at last, his shoes in his hand.
‘What are you two doing, lurking there?’ he said, walking down the hallway. ‘Get those shoes off, you’ll be walking mud all over the carpet.’
‘We’re going, Gerry. I’ll keep in touch, obviously, as you’ll want to see Beauty.’
‘What? You’re not really going?’ said Dad. ‘Because I set the damn rabbit free?’
‘Because of many many things,’ said Mum.
‘Now, listen. I’ve had enough of this. Walk out of here and you’re never coming back, do you understand? And if you think I’m setting you up in another Happy Home you’re very much mistaken. I’ll sue you for desertion and I won’t pay you a penny. I won’t have any money anyway, not if I’m done for bribery. I’ll probably end up in jail.’
‘I don’t care where you end up,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t worry, I’d sooner live in a pigsty than one of your Happy Homes. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, Dad,’ I whispered.
Dad was still shaking his head, looking utterly baffled, as we walked out of the house.
Thirteen
Mum started the car and we drove off.
‘Where are we going, Mum?’ I asked.
Mum didn’t answer for a minute. I thought she was just concentrating on her driving. Then she gave a shaky little laugh.
‘I don’t know!’ she said.
‘Oh!’ I said.
Mum carried on driving. I bit my lip, thinking hard.
‘Well, there’s your mum, my nana,’ I suggested.
‘No,’ said Mum. ‘Not if she’s still with that same boyfriend. I left home at the age of sixteen on account of him. My mum didn’t seem to care much. She certainly wouldn’t welcome me back with open arms.’
‘OK. Not her then,’ I said quickly, because Mum was sounding like she might burst into tears any minute.
My other granny was dead. We didn’t really seem to have any proper relations.
I thought about friends. I thought about my best friend Rhona. My heart started beating faster.
‘We could go to the Marshalls’!’ I said.
‘Who?’ said Mum.
‘Rhona’s family.’
‘Oh, Beauty, we don’t know them properly. I don’t even know Rhona’s mum’s first name. I’ve only ever said hello to her. We can’t just turn up on their doorstep,’ said Mum.
‘I know Rhona,’ I said stubbornly. ‘And Mr and Mrs Marshall are ever so kind. They really like me. I know they’d like you too.’
‘No,’ said Mum. ‘Get real, Beauty. We can’t just up sticks and go and live with the Marshalls. This isn’t just for one night. This is for ever. Well, if we want it to be for ever.’ Mum slowed down. ‘We could go back.’
I thought hard. I was nearly crying too. It was so frightening having to make decisions. Dad had always told both of us what to do. Should we go back to Dad? If we went down on our knees and said sorry enough times he’d welcome us back with open arms. But then I thought of those arms swinging through the air and smashing all those cookies Mum had made so lovingly. I thought of his hands unlatching Birthday’s hutch and shooing him out into the garden.
‘We’re not going back. We’re going forward,’ I said.
‘Right,’ said Mum, and she reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘Two girls together.’
‘Driving on and on and on into the sunset,’ I said. ‘Driving and driving and driving until . . .’ I let my voice tail away. We were both silent. I took a deep breath.
‘I suppose we can always sleep in the car, Mum.’
‘Oh, Beauty, bless you. No, we’re definitely not doing that. I’ll make sure there’s a proper roof over your head. I’ll sell some more of my jewellery. It’s just tonight and Sunday that are the problem. But don’t worry, I’ll think of something.’
Mum drove on, staring straight ahead. She was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles looked about to burst through her skin.
‘What’s that song? Don’t Worry, Be Happy!‘ she said. She didn’t know all the words so she sang the same line over and over again.
I stared out of the window. Everything looked so astonishingly ordinary and everyday. Street after street, shops, restaurants, houses, a Happy Homes estate . . .
‘Mum! I know where we can go! Auntie Avril!’
Mum slowed down, thinking. ‘But she’s your dad’s ex-wife,’ she said.
‘Well, you’re going to be his ex-wife too. And she likes us. She’s just sent me those lovely felt pens. Oh, Mum, let’s go to Auntie Avril’s. She lives on the Fruitbush estate and that’s just over there, look!’
‘Well, maybe we could try,’ Mum said doubtfully.
She reversed into a side entrance and drove back to the Happy Homes Fruitbush estate.
‘Are you sure it’s this
one? There are so many blessed Happy Homes estates,’ said Mum.
‘She lives at Seven Cherry Drive. I know it from writing her thank-you letters.’ I peered out of the car window. ‘That’s Lime Avenue. And Grape Lane.’
‘All these fruity names! I wonder what else your dad made up? Do you think there’s an Apple Alley?’
‘What about a Banana Bend? Or Raspberry Road?’
We started giggling hysterically as we drove round the estate.
‘Hey, look! Cherry Drive!’ I said.
‘Well done, Beauty.’
Mum drew up outside number Seven. It was less than half the size of our own house, a small shrunken semi-detached Happy Home with a narrow strip of grass at the front, but Auntie Avril had put trellis up on her brickwork so that clematis and wisteria hung lushly, softening the red of the brick. She’d planted pansies and geraniums in her garden and there was a hanging basket of pink petunias swinging above the blue front door. Her doormat said VDKBNLD. We hoped Auntie Avril would say welcome too.
‘Right, ready, steady, go!’ said Mum.
She opened up her handbag and peered at herself in her mirror. ‘God, I look such a mess!’
‘No you don’t, Mum, you look lovely,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
We got out of the car and went up the drive together. I rang the bell. We waited, holding hands. Then the door opened and Auntie Avril stared at us in surprise. She looked older than I remembered, and she was a lot plumper. Her hair was a very bright yellow blonde.
‘Good Lord! Dilys and Beauty!’ She peered behind us. ‘Where’s Gerry?’
Mum and I looked at each other uncertainly.
Auntie Avril put her hand to her mouth, smudging her red lipstick. ‘Oh God, he hasn’t died, has he?’
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