I fidgeted uncomfortably. I didn’t know whether to leave my chicken too and eat the Yorkshire pudding, copying Mum – or whether to carry on eating properly. I didn’t really feel like eating anything. My tummy felt as if it were shut.
‘I’d better check my cakes. I don’t want them to burn,’ I said quickly.
They were pale gold and looking perfect. ‘Just right!’ I said, reaching for a tea towel to take them out.
‘Watch out. Use the oven gloves and mind your arms on the bars of the oven. Here, better let me do it,’ said Dad.
‘Oh, don’t fuss so. Tills can do it herself, can’t you? You’re practically grown up now, aren’t you, darling?’ said Mum.
I hovered, not knowing whether to try to take the cakes out myself or not. Dad handed me the oven gloves and let me do it myself, but his hand was over mine, just in case. I needed his help because I’d gone a bit trembly. It wasn’t quite the way I’d imagined. Mum and Dad weren’t exactly arguing but they weren’t acting all lovey-dovey either.
‘I’m going to ice my cakes and then I’ll decorate them. I’ll put little pink hearts on them,’ I said.
‘Better let them cool down a bit first,’ Dad muttered.
‘They’ll be cool enough by the time she’s made the icing,’ said Mum. ‘Come on, Tills, let’s do it together.’
Mum poured icing sugar into a bowl. She was a bit careless and clouds of white sugar rose in the air, like a tiny snowstorm. She just giggled.
‘Let’s add a few drops of lemon juice to the water, to stop it being overly sweet,’ said Mum. ‘There, I know all about baking too, Tills. Let’s get stirring then.’
Mum had a turn, and then, when the icing sugar stopped being so stiff, she handed the spoon to me.
‘You have a go now. That’s my girl. Stir, stir, stir. And you can make a wish if you like.’
I closed my eyes to make my wish, the most important wish in the world.
‘Stop it, Laura!’ Dad said, so sharply it made me jump. ‘You know very well what she’s wishing.’
‘She can wish for anything she wants,’ said Mum.
‘But it’s not going to happen, is it?’
‘Yes it is! I’m going to make sure I see Tilly lots and lots now. In fact, I’m going to have her to stay with me sometimes.’
‘No, Mum! You stay here,’ I said. ‘With Dad and me.’
‘Well, it would be a bit squashed, wouldn’t it, if your dad’s going to marry this girlfriend of his,’ said Mum.
‘I said, he hasn’t got any girlfriend.’
‘Then how are you going to be his bridesmaid? You said it last night on television!’
‘But that’s when Dad marries you,’ I said.
Mum stared at me. ‘But of course I can’t marry your dad! Come on, Tills, you’re not a baby. Surely you understand the situation? Don’t look so upset. I meant what I said – you can come and stay with me sometimes, especially when your sister’s born.’
‘My sister?’ I had to hold onto the edge of the table to stop myself falling.
‘I had a scan so I know it’s a little girl,’ said Mum.
It felt as if I’d breathed in all the icing sugar. I was so choked I could hardly speak. ‘You’re going to have a baby?’
‘Oh, darling, surely you realized? I’m eight months gone and starting to look like a tank,’ said Mum, patting her tummy.
I stared at her. I stared at Dad. For one mad moment I thought Mum and Dad were having another baby together in spite of everything, and we could still be a proper family – Mum, Dad, the new baby and me.
‘Oh, Dad!’ I said.
Dad looked at me very sadly. ‘It’s not my baby, Tilly,’ he said gently.
‘Oh!’
‘Don’t give me that old-fashioned look, Tills!’ said Mum. ‘It’s all perfectly legitimate! Tim and I even got married.’
The room was swirling round and round. It seemed to have spun me into a new terrifying world where nothing made sense.
‘You got married?’
Mum shrugged. ‘Yep.’
‘But I thought you never wanted to get married!’ I said.
‘I know, I know. I didn’t even plan it. But we were on holiday, staying with Tim’s folks in the Caribbean, and it just suddenly seemed a lovely romantic idea to have a beach wedding,’ said Mum.
‘Did you have a long white wedding dress and a veil?’ I whispered.
‘No, I wore a silk sarong, with flowers in my hair,’ said Mum. She searched in her bag and brought out her mobile phone. ‘Here, want to see?’
I stood beside her, my fists clenched.
Mum flicked through photos hurriedly. ‘Ah, here we are!’
I stared at the photo. The sun was just setting, casting a pink glow over everyone on the beach. There was Mum, her new black hair threaded with pink and yellow flowers, wearing a loose silky dress, her feet bare on the sand. There was this Tim, a foolish-looking man wearing white shorts with a white shirt flapping in the breeze. And there was a girl about my age in a matching silk dress holding a posy of pink and yellow flowers.
I pointed to her, suddenly unable to speak.
‘That’s Maya, Tim’s little niece,’ said Mum.
‘Your bridesmaid?’ I croaked.
‘Well, yes. Oh, Tills darling, I’d have much preferred to have you as my bridesmaid, of course I would, but you weren’t there,’ said Mum.
Why didn’t you invite me? Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married to someone else? Why didn’t you think of me? Why didn’t you ever come and see me? Why did you have to wait until you saw me on television?
I didn’t ask any questions out loud. I could see there wasn’t any point. I hardly said another word as I spread the icing on my cakes. Dad was right: they hadn’t cooled down enough. The icing went all runny, and when I tried to stick the hearts on they slipped sideways. My cakes looked a mess.
‘Oooh, delicious!’ said Mum and ate one straight away, gobbling it down and then licking her shiny red lips. ‘Aren’t you having one, Tills?’
I knew if I ate a cake I’d probably be sick. ‘I’m a bit full up,’ I mumbled, though I’d hardly eaten anything.
‘Oh well, I’ll have another, seeing as I’m eating for two,’ said Mum. ‘And then what shall we do? Shall we all play a game together? Or watch a favourite film. I know, let’s watch Frozen and sing along.’
So that’s what we did, even though I’d long ago stopped being obsessed by Frozen. I didn’t sing either. Neither did Dad. But Mum did, remembering nearly all the words. She even did the right gestures. She laughed when she saw me watching her.
‘See, I remember everything,’ she said.
It was as if she’d frozen me in time. She didn’t really know anything about me now. And I didn’t know anything about this dyed-haired red-lipped stranger mum who had a baby under her black dress who was half my sister.
‘Why did you leave me, Mum?’ I asked as the credits rolled on the film.
Dad switched the DVD off. The room was very quiet. I could hear the sound of my own breathing.
‘I didn’t leave you, Tills. I left your dad,’ said Mum. ‘It just . . . wasn’t working between us any more. I felt so trapped.’
‘But why didn’t you take me with you?’
‘Well, I thought about it. I wanted to. But – but I thought it would be kinder to you to let you stay with Dad. He’s not so up and down as me. I knew he’d look after you well.’ She looked at him. ‘You’ve done a good job, Michael,’ she said.
Dad just nodded. He was looking at me worriedly.
‘But you could have come to see me more.’
‘I did. At first.’
‘So why did you stop? Why wouldn’t you let me know where you were? Why couldn’t I even phone you?’ I was heaving the words out now, as if I were being sick. I couldn’t choke them back.
‘Oh, darling, don’t get so upset. I thought it was for the best,’ said Mum. She got up and tried to put her arm
s round me, but I struggled away from her this time.
‘I missed you so,’ I said.
‘And I missed you, Tills, terribly. But I thought it best not to keep on coming back because it was so painful for both of us.’ Mum was nearly crying now. She dabbed at her eyes, careful of her black eyeliner. ‘And, you see, I was right. We’re both getting upset. I think I’d better go now. I’ll call a cab.’
She waited, perhaps hoping I’d argue with her. I clamped my lips together. I curled up very tight on the chair, my arms wrapped round my legs, my head resting on my knees. I shut my eyes too.
I stayed like that while Mum called her cab, and then she and Dad made awkward conversation. They weren’t getting at each other now. They were careful with each other, Dad patiently answering all Mum’s questions about my new school and my friends and the other weddings where I’d been a bridesmaid.
‘So you’re not getting married after all?’ asked Mum.
‘No I’m not,’ said Dad.
‘I must admit, I was very curious to see who it was. Well, I’m sure you’ll meet someone else soon. Someone who’ll make you happy. I’m truly sorry it didn’t work out for us. And I’m truly sorry it’s been so hard on you, Tills,’ said Mum.
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t even look at her. I shut my eyes. I wished I could shut my ears too.
Dad offered to make Mum a cup of tea while she was waiting. She accepted and also ate another of my cakes.
‘Mm, delicious,’ she said again.
Then she was texted to say the cab was here.
‘Goodbye then.’ She came and stood beside me and tried to cuddle me, but I stayed as wooden and unbending as the chair. She kissed my head instead.
I peeped as she said goodbye to Dad. They kissed too, but just on the cheek. It was hard now to imagine they were ever a couple who kissed properly. He went with her to the door. I heard it open. And then I hurled myself off my chair, stumbled, staggered out of the kitchen, down the hall, past Dad in the doorway, and along the path.
I caught Mum just as she was getting into her cab. ‘Mum!’
‘Oh, Tills!’ Her arms went round me and we hugged as if we could never let go. But after a few seconds Mum gently unpeeled my arms and got into the car. ‘Goodbye, darling. I’ll come and see you soon, I promise. With your baby sister! Take care now. Love you lots.’
Then she shut the cab door and they drove off. I was left staring after her. After a while Dad came and put his hand on my shoulder and steered me back into the house. The kitchen was still thick with the smell of chicken and cakes. I ran upstairs and threw myself down on my bed.
Dad followed me. He sat on the edge of my bed and patted my back while I sobbed and sobbed. When I stopped crying and reached that awful gulpy stage, he went and got tissues and a cold flannel and mopped me up.
‘She said she loved me lots,’ I whispered.
‘She does, of course she does,’ said Dad.
‘But not enough to stay.’
‘She’s got her new life now, Tilly. And we’ve got ours,’ said Dad.
He was very kind and gentle for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I wasn’t at all hungry, but he made me a small chicken sandwich and I nibbled at it to please him.
I couldn’t settle down to anything. I tried drawing. I drew my new mum with her black hair and a tiny baby sister inside her, and her horrible new husband with a big smirk on his ugly face. Then I scribbled all over him. I scribbled all over Mum too. That meant that the baby disappeared under all the black too. I felt bad then. It wasn’t the baby’s fault.
I’d always wanted a sister. This one would only be my half-sister, but a half was better than none. I’d make Mum keep in touch so I could watch out for my sister. And if Mum ever went off and left my sister, then I’d look after her.
I drew my sister all over again. I drew her as a little girl, not a baby. But I tried too hard, giving her lovely long thick fair hair and a heart-shaped face with a big smile. She was much prettier than me, even when I was wearing my bridesmaid’s dress. Mum would never dream of leaving a little girl like that.
I scribbled all over her quickly and then felt guilty. I had another little weep.
‘I think you’re worn out, Tilly,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, how about a nice hot bath and then bed? I’ll read to you. Would that be nice?’
I had my bath. I got into bed. Dad came and tucked me up and then read me his old copy of Winnie-the-Pooh, doing all the different voices. I kept closing my eyes so he settled me down, gave me a big kiss and turned out the light.
I might have gone to sleep for a little while, but then I woke up, feeling hot and sick. For a moment I thought Mum’s visit had been a bad dream. Then I remembered it had actually happened and felt worse.
I felt for Stripy but he wasn’t enough. I wanted Dad. I ran into his bedroom – he wasn’t there. I saw the light on downstairs in the living room and ran downstairs.
‘Tilly?’ Dad called.
I burst in ready to go and jump on his lap. He was on the phone. For a second I thought it might be Mum phoning, saying she’d made a terrible mistake, that coming to see us had changed everything, and could she come back and stay with us for ever. Then it would be Mum and Dad and me and my new sister, and we could still be a family in spite of everything.
‘Just a minute, Sarah,’ Dad murmured into the phone. His voice was soft and warm.
Why wasn’t Dad as miserable as me? Didn’t he care about Mum any more? Didn’t he even care about me?
I suddenly snatched the phone.
‘Leave my dad alone!’ I shouted into it. ‘He’s mine, not yours. Go away!’
Chapter Nineteen
I THOUGHT DAD would be furious with me but he simply took me back to bed and waited for me to stop crying again.
‘I don’t think you’re really angry with Miss Hope,’ he said quietly. ‘I think you’re angry with Mum.’
‘I’m angry with all of you! I hate all grown-ups. Why do you have to make such a mess of your lives? Why can’t you stay together and love each other?’ I shouted into my pillow.
‘I wish we could,’ said Dad. ‘But sometimes people change. Or they meet someone new. You were friends with Cathy and Angela when you first started your new school, and then Matty came along and you became her best friend instead.’
‘Cathy and Angela didn’t mind. And I’m always going to be Matty’s best friend. It’s not the same at all. Children are allowed to have all different friends. But mums and dads are just meant to have each other,’ I said sternly.
‘Yes, I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be. And lots and lots of couples – most of them – do stay together. But sadly not Mum and me,’ said Dad.
‘You don’t even sound as if you mind much any more,’ I said.
‘Well, perhaps I don’t. I can see that Mum and I don’t really have a thing in common. Maybe we should never have got together in the first place. But I’m very glad we did, because we’ve got you.’ Dad bent down and kissed me.
‘You won’t ever leave, will you, Dad?’
‘Never ever.’
‘Even if you and Miss Hope hook up properly?’
‘Don’t use that horrible expression! But even if, you’ll always come first, Tilly.’
‘And you don’t mind that I shouted at Miss Hope on the phone?’
‘Of course I mind! It was very rude and naughty of you. But I understand. Now, go to sleep. You’re worn out,’ said Dad.
He patted me on the back and walked to the door.
‘Dad?’
‘Now what?’
‘Dad, what do you think Miss Hope will say to me tomorrow? Do you think she’ll be very cross?’
‘Well, you’ll have to wait and see,’ her said. ‘I hope you’ll say sorry to her.’
I worried about it half the night. I felt exhausted the next morning. I had a headache from all the crying and my throat felt sore and scratchy.
‘I don’t feel very well, Dad,�
�� I said. ‘I don’t think I’d better go to school today.’
‘You’ve got to go to school, sweetheart,’ he said. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.
‘But I’m ill. It’s all right – you don’t have to take time off work. I’ll just stay in bed and go back to sleep. I’m tired, Dad. Look, I’ve got really dark circles under my eyes,’ I whined.
‘So you have. My daughter, the panda. Shall I ask the ladies at breakfast club to give you some eucalyptus leaves for breakfast?’
‘Oh, Dad! You don’t half get on my nerves sometimes,’ I said, trailing off to pack my school bag. Then I ran back to him and climbed on his lap.
‘What’s all this? Are you still trying to get round me to stay off school?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes, but I also just wanted a cuddle. Dad, you don’t really get on my nerves. I just love you. You know that, don’t you?’ I whispered into his neck.
‘I know. And I love you – lots and lots and lots. And Mum loves you too.’
But not lots and lots and lots. Not enough to stay.
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.
I chanted the three words over and over again as Dad drove me to school, trying to convince myself it was true. I ran straight to the canteen, lowering my head and hunching up as I passed the teachers’ car park, worried in case Miss Hope had come to school early.
I had cornflakes and milk and an apple and orange juice for breakfast. I stirred the cornflakes around until they were an unpleasant sludge in the bottom of the bowl. I nibbled one side of the apple but left most of it. I only had two sips of juice.
I wanted to be left alone, but nearly all the other children at breakfast club had seen my television interview. They all gathered round me and asked all sorts of silly questions. Even the breakfast-club ladies came and said I’d looked sweet. They wanted to know what the television reporter was really like, and one of them asked where I’d got such a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress. She made me write down Marty’s mum’s name so she could get in touch with her. I was pleased for Marty’s mum because it meant more business for her, and a little pleased for myself, because it was fun being the centre of attention.
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