Sandeep sniffed and rubbed his nose. It had stopped bleeding but it hurt like crazy and he just wanted to go home to his mum and have a cuddle and be told everything would be all right. But it wouldn’t be all right. Because Kevin had said that if he ever told anyone, he’d get sorted. And Sandeep knew what that meant.
They’d hit him because he had no money to give them. At first they had just wanted one pound each every week; then it was twice a week and now they were saying he had to give them something every day. If only he was bigger. He knew they picked on him because he was thin and small and because he wouldn’t fight back.
He was just rounding the corner into Wellington Road when Kevin and Matthew appeared from the bus shelter.
‘Don’t forget the cash, weedy boy,’ sneered Matthew.
‘And no telling tales,’ added Kevin, looming over him and giving him a shove into the hedge.
‘Or else,’ said Matthew, kicking his shin for good measure.
Sandeep screamed, ‘Stop it!’ and so taken aback were they at hearing him utter a sound that, for a moment, they stopped their taunts. Sandeep broke away and ran as fast as he could towards his house.
And his scream was loud enough to reach Sumitha and Victoria who were a few hundred yards behind.
‘Look, over there,’ said Victoria. ‘I knew it – Kevin Bott and Matthew Barnes – they’ve been laying into him. Come on, quickly.’
‘Is that you, Sandeep?’ called his mother as the back door opened. ‘Good heavens, child, what have you been doing?’ She cupped Sandeep’s face in her hands and peered anxiously at his blood-encrusted nose.
‘Nothing,’ muttered Sandeep. ‘I fell over at school.’
‘Well, didn’t the nurse clean you up?’ asked Chitrita crossly. ‘Honestly, it’s not good enough. I shall go up there tomorrow and speak to her. You don’t leave injuries like this.’
‘No, Mum, please, don’t go to the school, please, Mum,’ said Sandeep. ‘It was me – I didn’t go to the nurse. I wanted to get home.’
‘All right, but next time you get it seen to,’ said his mother. And marched him upstairs for a session with the Savlon.
‘And Sandeep,’ she said, dabbing gently at his nose, ‘I want to have a word with you about money.’
Sandeep gulped.
‘Both Dad and I seem to have mislaid some pound coins. Do you know anything about that?’
Sandeep shook his head.
‘And I found three coins in your bedroom – so what do you make of that?’
‘Dunno,’ said Sandeep.
‘Sandeep,’ said Chitrita, ‘I am asking you now, and I want an honest answer. Did you take money out of my purse? Did you take cash from your father’s pocket?’
‘Mum! Mum!’ Sumitha called urgently up the stairs.
‘I’ll deal with you in a minute, Sandeep,’ she said grimly and went downstairs.
Her daughter was standing in the hallway with a small pretty girl who looked exceedingly angry.
‘Mum, this is Victoria. Tell my mother, Victoria.’
‘Mrs Banerji, I think, well, I’m sure really, although I don’t actually know for sure . . .’
‘Get on with it, Victoria,’ urged Sumitha.
‘I think Sandeep is being bullied by two boys in Year Eight,’ she said in a rush. ‘I don’t know why, or when exactly, but I am sure it’s happening. He’s been so quiet and miserable and . . .’ She stopped, remembering that she had promised Sandeep that she wouldn’t tell anyone about seeing him in tears.
So that’s it, thought Chitrita. But why hadn’t he said anything to her? She was his mother, for heaven’s sake.
‘Come in and sit down, Victoria,’ said Chitrita. ‘And thank you, thank you for telling me. Sumitha, did you know of this?’
Sumitha looked rather shame-faced. ‘I knew he’d been whingeing a lot,’ she said defensively. ‘But I’m not his keeper.’
‘No, you’re his sister!’ snapped Victoria. ‘It was obvious something was wrong, but you were too busy swooning over Mr Sharpe.’
Sumitha threw her a thunderous look.
‘Well, you were,’ mumbled Victoria.
‘Mum, what’s . . .’ Sandeep appeared at the sitting room door and stopped dead when he saw Victoria.
‘Sandeep, Victoria has told us everything,’ said his mother gently.
‘But Victoria, you promised,’ said Sandeep. ‘You promised.’
Victoria looked crestfallen.
‘I didn’t say anything about that,’ she assured him.
‘You are very lucky to have a friend like Victoria,’ said his mother, putting an arm round his shoulder. ‘And don’t worry, we are going to get this whole thing sorted out.’
‘But don’t tell Kevin and Matthew,’ blurted out Sandeep. ‘They said they’d beat me up.’
Chitrita’s eyes filled at the thought of her son’s anguish. ‘You don’t have to worry any more,’ she said. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fathers in a Fix
‘I’m back!’ Barry called from the front door.
‘Guess what, Barry,’ said Ginny rushing downstairs in a green face pack and scarlet kimono.
‘What?’ said Barry flatly.
‘I’ve been asked to front the Tessa Talks show on Saturday – and I might get the rest of the series. Isn’t that sensational?’
‘Great,’ said Barry.
‘Oh, sorry, love, I forgot,’ said Ginny. ‘How did it go? Did you win?’
‘I’m not supposed to say till transmission date, but who cares? No, I didn’t win.’
Ginny felt her heart drop to her kneecaps.
‘Oh, love, I’m sorry.’ She didn’t know what else to say.
‘Don’t be. I’m obviously not good enough. In fact, I’m not good for much, am I? Good thing we have you to hog the limelight. I’m going to have a bath.’
And with that he plodded dismally upstairs, leaving Ginny feeling both deflated and guilty.
‘So that’s about the strength of it,’ said Chitrita to Rajiv that evening. ‘Sandeep has been bullied and used the money in an attempt to buy the bullies off She was close to tears.
Rajiv put his arm around her. ‘What can we do? I must go to the school,’ he said. ‘Poor kid, what he must have gone through. Why didn’t he tell anyone? Us? Or Sumitha?’
‘I think he tried to.’ Sumitha appeared at the doorway looking miserable. ‘It’s partly my fault. Dad – he kept asking to walk with me, and asked me to give him money and I just teased him. I never stopped to think why he was doing it. Now I feel dreadful.’
‘I think,’ said Rajiv thoughtfully, ‘I have an idea. And it might just work.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Best Laid Plan
Saturday morning saw a hive of activity in several Leehampton households.
Melvyn was rushing around like a scalded cat looking for some folders.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said to Ruth, ‘but I have to go into the office. The system has crashed and old Stockton is having kittens.’
Ruth sighed. ‘So you can’t come to the supermarket, then?’ she said, wearily thinking about humping six boxes of groceries from the trolley to the car on her own.
‘No, but Laura’ll go with you, won’t you, Laura?’ Laura looked up from her magazine.
‘I can’t – I . . .’ she began and stopped. She had every intention of going to the demo somehow, but she wasn’t about to get nagged at again.
‘Your mother is seven and a half months’ pregnant, for heaven’s sake,’ said Melvyn. ‘The least you can do is help her. Must dash – see you around teatime.’
Laura slammed the magazine on the table.
‘So are we going, then?’ she said, less than charmingly.
‘No, it’s all right, I’ll manage,’ said her mother. ‘You can go to the demo with Daniel. Not that I really approve mind,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m only letting you go because Jon’s moth
er said she would keep an eye out for you.’
Laura was so ecstatic that she didn’t even point out that she needed no one looking out for her.
‘I think,’ her mother added ruefully, ‘that it might be best if you don’t say anything about this to Melvyn. He seems to think I am the first woman in the history of evolution to have a baby.’
‘I won’t,’ Laura assured her, as she gave her a hug.
‘Do take care!’ called Ruth to Laura’s retreating back. But Laura had gone.
‘Are you coming to the airport to meet Gran, Jemma love?’ asked her mother, poking her head round Jemma’s bedroom door. ‘Her flight gets in at one o’clock.’
‘Of course I’m not!’ snapped Jemma, waving a mascara wand in the air. ‘It’s the audition – I told you.’
Claire sighed. She had forgotten about this wretched audition.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’ll drop you off there but you will have to make your own way home. I can’t be late for Gran.’
Jemma shrugged. ‘You could fetch me on your way back – then I can tell Gran the news.’
‘I think,’ commented Claire, ‘that after a fourteen-hour flight, she may have higher priorities than hanging around in a theatre waiting for you.’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Jemma.
‘Barry! Telephone!’ Ginny laid the receiver on the hall table and grabbed her suitcase. ‘I’m off, love,’ she said as her husband appeared in the doorway. ‘Do I look OK?’
‘Fine,’ said Barry, taking in Ginny’s white bouclé dress which sat on her hips like an uncooked meringue, ‘but what’s with the suitcase?’
‘I thought I should take a few outfits – you know, see what the producer wants.’
There’s hope for the viewing public yet, thought Barry. ‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
He picked up the phone.
‘Barry Gee,’ he said.
‘This is Will Zetland,’ said a deep American voice. ‘You don’t know me, but I have a proposition I would like to put to you. Can we meet?’
‘I feel like death,’ groaned Mrs Joseph, gulping down two spoonfuls of cold remedy. ‘I’m going back to bed.’
‘I thought today was the big demo,’ said Henry, flexing his muscles in the mirror.
‘It was but I feel too ill to move,’ said his wife. ‘Oh heck, I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Laura Turnbull. I suppose I should phone.’ She picked up the bedside phone and punched in Ruth’s number. There was no reply.
‘I’ll do it later,’ she murmured and crawled under the duvet.
Downstairs, her son was flicking through the local paper. I’ll take Sumitha to a movie this afternoon, he thought, and then a pizza and then we’ll come back here and . . . He quivered with anticipation of what might follow.
Trouble was, he didn’t want his dad around if he brought Sumitha back.
‘What are you doing today, Dad?’ he called through the study door.
‘Eighteen holes with Richard Garrett,’ replied his father. ‘Then on to the club for a few beers.’
Great, thought Jon. After a quick calculation over the cost of his carefully thought out programme of seduction, he added, ‘Dad? Can you lend me a tenner?’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tempers Flare
By the middle of Saturday afternoon, Laura was cold, fed up and disenchanted. They had come across town in the college minibus, full of hype about the day ahead.
CurePlan had just marketed a new drug to deal with respiratory problems and the rumour was that it had been tested on a variety of animals. Someone had discovered that the TV programme Health Matters would be filming at the lab that day and Gavin Pykett was beside himself with excitement.
‘This is our chance,’ he told everyone as the bus trundled across town. ‘I want plenty of noise, placard waving, and do make sure you sit in ranks on the approach road.’
After four hours of sitting on the approach road, Laura had nothing to show for it except a red nose and numb bum. The TV crew had arrived at midday, disappeared into the main building and still not reappeared. There was no sign of Jon’s mum and Daniel had spent most of the afternoon with his nose in a book. Even the duty police officers looked bored stiff.
‘I’m cold,’ she complained to Daniel. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘Oh terrific,’ snapped Daniel, ‘Laura’s chilly so the campaign’s off. Hey, what’s happening?’
Just then a TV cameraman emerged from the building, together with an interviewer and two grey-haired men in pinstripe suits. They stood on the forecourt and began what was obviously an interview in front of the camera.
‘Right!’ shouted Gavin. ‘Let them have it!’ And suddenly, everyone was rushing to the perimeter fence, clambering over, waving placards, chanting slogans and running full pelt towards the camera crew.
‘Come on,’ cried Daniel, grabbing Laura’s arm. ‘This is it.’
Several policemen had leapt into the fray and were pushing people back from the fence.
‘This way,’ shouted Daniel and ran round to the side of the building. ‘Through here.’ From his duffel coat pocket he produced a pair of wire cutters and began pulling at the fence.
‘Daniel, we can’t – we mustn’t,’ protested Laura. ‘It’s illegal.’
‘Since when did that matter?’ snapped Daniel and wriggled through the fence. ‘Coming?’
Laura hesitated. Several people had started throwing stones and other missiles, others were grappling with policemen. Laura wished she had never come.
Daniel began running towards the forecourt where the cameraman had turned his attention from the CurePlan executives to the scuffle in front of him.
Laura watched in horror as Daniel hurled himself on one of the grey-haired men.
‘Murderer!’ she heard him shriek. He drew his arm back, fist clenched.
‘Daniel, Daniel, don’t!’ Laura began running after him. He’d be arrested at this rate. She had to stop him.
Suddenly she felt an agonising pain on her left temple and fell to the ground. She put her hand to her head and to her horror it came away covered in blood. Then the grass began to wave and dance before her eyes. It started to turn brown, then black. And after that, Laura remembered nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Very Great Expectations
Jemma walked home from the audition on a real high. She had been brilliant, she just knew it. The producer had called her back three times and asked her to read different passages. She could see the admiration in his eyes, that same look as Rob gave her every time she had run through the part with him. He had called her ‘Jemma, my love’, which she knew was what theatrical people did when they were smitten with you.
Of course, Alexa had been called back as well, and two other girls from the Selby Drama School. But Jemma was absolutely certain she had got the part.
‘You will be hearing via your own drama teachers within a week or so,’ the producer had announced at the end of the auditions. ‘The standard was very high – thank you all for coming.’
Now she was going to dash home, phone Rob and get him to take her out to celebrate. I bet his mates will be so envious of him, having an actress for a girlfriend, she thought delightedly. That’s one up on Chelsea and Laura and everyone.
Jemma opened the front door and called out, ‘I’m back’.
‘In here, petal,’ replied her mother and so elated was Jemma that she didn’t even protest.
In the sitting room, Gran was ensconced on the sofa and beside her was a balding, grey-haired man with sun-wrinkled skin.
‘Hi Gran,’ said Jemma, ‘did you have a good time?’
‘Ni hao, Jemma,’ said Gran. ‘That’s Mandarin for hello. Yes, wonderful, amazing, fantastic. Oh, and this is Tom – Tom Keen.’
‘Hello,’ said Jemma. ‘Gran, I am positive I got the part.’
‘Part, darling?’ asked Gran.
‘Estella,’ said Jemma.
�
�Estella?’ said Gran.
‘Mum, haven’t you even told Gran about the audition? About how good I am at drama? Mum?’
Claire looked at Jemma.
‘No dear, I haven’t,’ she said.
‘Well, thanks a bundle,’ shouted Jemma. ‘Gran, I’ve been—’
‘And the reason I haven’t is that Gran has some very important news. Far more important than yours, I might add.’
Jemma was about to protest that nothing was as important as her impending stardom, when Gran interrupted.
‘As I was saying, dear,’ she said, ‘this is Tom. My fiancé. We are to be married in six weeks’ time.’
Chapter Forty
More Grief for Jon
It had all been so easy with her mother out at the TV studio, and Dad suddenly announcing that he had to dash to meet some guy she had never even heard of, Chelsea had enjoyed bags of time to get ready for her night out with Bex.
She’d drawn out money from her savings account – which she wasn’t supposed to do without permission, but who cared? – and bought this brilliant orange A-line miniskirt and a skinny T-shirt that showed off her curves. She piled her hair on top of her head and spent ages getting her make-up just right. Tonight was going to be good.
Jon’s Saturday on the other hand, was not going as planned. He and Sumitha had gone to see the latest Spielberg film which had been great, except for the fact that, whenever Jon had tried to put his arm round Sumitha, she pointedly removed it. The most he’d got to do was hold her hand, and she’d kept taking that away to feed herself popcorn.
Then they had gone for a pizza.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I really, really like you.’
‘That’s nice.’ Sumitha smiled. ‘I like you too. Can I ask you a favour?’
‘Of course,’ said Jon. Anything, anything.
‘Well, you’re a guy,’ she began.
‘Yes,’ said Jon.
‘Well, I’ve got . . . I’ve got this friend and she really loves this guy, but she isn’t sure how he feels about her. Should she ask him outright or just keep quiet and wait to see what happens?’
How Could You Do This To Me, Mum? Page 10