Lemonade Sky

by Jean Ure

  “Money!” chortled Sammy. I guess she thought it was a joke.

  “Yeah, right,” said Tizz. “Money.”

  I jumped up. “Let’s look first and check what’s in the cupboard.” There might just be enough to keep us going.

  I pulled out everything I could find and stacked it up on the table. There wasn’t very much. A tin of baked beans, a tin of spaghetti, two tins of tomato soup, a tin of sausages and a tin of pilchards.

  We sat there, staring at them.

  “That’s not going to last ten days,” said Tizz. “Not even if we just have one tin a day. Between us.”

  Sammy was looking worried. “Why’s it got to last ten days?” Her lip wobbled. “When’s Mum coming back?”

  “Soon,” I said, “soon! But just in case – I mean, just in case she’s away for ten days–”

  Ten days, like last time. Sammy’s face crumpled.

  “Where is she? Where’s she gone?”

  “See, we’re not actually sure,” I said. I said it as gently as I could, but there wasn’t any point in lying to her. “You know how sometimes Mum gets a bit, like… excitable? Like when she’s having one of her big happies?”

  Sammy nodded, doubtfully, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  “It can make her do things she wouldn’t normally do. Like—”

  “Disappearing,” said Tizz.

  “But it’s all right,” I said, quickly. “She’ll come back! It’s just that we have to take care of ourselves while she’s not here.

  “And not tell anyone that she’s gone!”

  I said, “Yes, we’ve not got to tell anybody. Not anybody.”

  That was the mistake we’d made last time. We’d been living over the other side of town, then, in an upstairs flat, and we’d been so scared when Mum went off that we’d told the lady in the flat next to ours, and she’d rung the Social Services people, and they’d come and taken us away. Even when Mum had turned up again they wouldn’t let us go back to her. It had been months before they said she was well enough to take responsibility for us. And all that time me and Tizz had been in a children’s home and Sammy had been with foster parents. That had been the worst part, being split up. We weren’t going to let that happen again.

  We’d still been quite little, then. Too young to look after ourselves. But I was twelve now, and Tizz was ten, and nobody, but nobody, was going to come and take us away!

  “I don’t suppose you remember last time?” said Tizz.

  Slowly, Sammy shook her head.

  “She was only a baby,” I said. “But now she’s big – she’s nearly six! She can be trusted to keep a secret. Can’t you?”

  Sammy said, “What secret?”

  “About Mum not being here. We don’t want people knowing, cos if they know they’ll put us in a home, they’ll say we can’t take care of ourselves. But we can,” I said, “can’t we?”

  Sammy sucked on her thumb. She seemed uncertain.

  “Of course we can!” I said. “We’re not stupid. Just think how proud Mum will be when she gets back and we tell her all the things we’ve done!”

  “Such as what?” said Tizz. “Eating toast and marge and Rice Krispies with marmalade?”

  I scowled at her, over Sammy’s head.

  “I only asked,” said Tizz.

  I said, “Well, don’t! Have a bit of imagination.”

  Tizz hunched a shoulder.

  “Can we stay up late?” said Sammy. “And watch whatever we like on TV?”

  “You’ve got it,” said Tizz.

  She really wasn’t helping. I said, “Maybe just now and again. Not all the time, though, cos that wouldn’t be right. Mum wouldn’t like it if we did that.”

  “Will she be here for my birthday?”

  “She might,” I said. “But if not, we’ll have a big bash when she gets back.”

  “Seems to me,” said Tizz, “before we start thinking about birthdays we ought to find out if there’s any money anywhere.”

  I knew that she was right. If we didn’t have any money, I couldn’t think what we would do.

  First off, we looked in the saucer on the kitchen windowsill where Mum sometimes kept bits and pieces of change. There was a little bit in there. We set Sammy to counting it. Proudly she announced that it came to “£3 and 20p.” Meanwhile, I had £2 in my purse, and Tizz produced a fiver. I said, “Wow!”

  “I was saving it,” said Tizz.

  “That’s all right,” I said. “Mum’ll give it back.”

  Tizz said, “You reckon?”

  I think it must be dreadful to be so untrusting. But Tizz is one of those people, she has a very dim view of human nature. Even though she knows Mum can’t help being sick, she gets impatient.

  “Let’s go through pockets,” I said.

  We went through all of Mum’s pockets, and all of our own, but all we came up with was a 5p piece.

  Tizz said, “Try down the side of the sofa. That’s what they do in books. They always manage to find something.”

  We didn’t find anything at all. Not unless you count an old button, plus a needle that stuck in my finger and made me yelp.

  “Is that blood?” quavered Sammy.

  Tizz said, “Yes, but it’s not yours, so you don’t have to start freaking out! Let’s go and see if there’s anything in Mum’s secret stash.”

  She meant the old Smarties tube where Mum sometimes hoarded 20p pieces. We raced through to Mum’s bedroom and sure enough, in the top drawer of her dressing table, there was the Smarties tube and oh! Hooray! It had something in it.

  We carried it through to the kitchen and upended it. 20p pieces rolled about the table. Greedily, we counted them off into piles.

  “That’s £4.60,” said Tizz.

  It did seem wrong to be taking Mum’s money, especially when I had this unhappy feeling she’d probably been keeping it to buy something for Sammy’s birthday, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “So how much have we got altogether?” I said. I waited for Tizz to add things up, cos she is good at arithmetic. She did some sums on a bit of paper.

  “£14.75.”

  Sammy’s face lit up. “That’s a lot,” she said.

  It sounded like a lot. But was it? I wasn’t sure. I realised that I simply didn’t know. I had no idea what anything cost! When Mum sent us up the road it was usually just for bread, or milk, or maybe a tin of something. She’d give us a couple of pounds, and we’d hand it over and come back with the change, but I’d never properly bothered to count how much change. I’d always just accepted whatever Mrs Petrides gave us. It had never occurred to me to check prices. If Mum said buy a large loaf, I bought a large loaf. I picked it off the shelf and took it to the checkout and that was that.

  I wished, now, that I’d paid a bit more attention.

  Tizz was busy on another load of sums. She looked up and glared, fiercely, across the table.

  “I don’t think,” she said, “that a person can live on 49p a day.”

  I said, “What are you talking about?”

  “49p,” said Tizz. “That’s how much we’ll each have to live on if Mum is away for ten days.”

  I looked at her, doubtfully. I wasn’t sure what you could actually buy for 49p. Just bars of chocolate, maybe, or packets of crisps. But they weren’t healthy! Even I knew that.

  “We’ve got all this stuff,” I said, pointing at the tins we’d taken out of the cupboard.

  “Yeah.” Tizz barely glanced at them. “That’ll go a long way.”

  I did wish she would stop being so negative all the time. It really didn’t help. I pointed out that people had been known to survive on nothing but bread and water for days on end.

  “Just so long as you have enough to drink,” I said. “That’s the main thing.”

  “We’ll starve,” said Tizz.

  “We won’t starve!” Didn’t she listen to a word I said? “Watch my lips: we are not going to starve. I won’t let us!”

  “Dunno
what you think you’re gonna do about it,” said Tizz. She scrunched up the paper she’d been doing her sums on and hurled it savagely across the room. “Mum might at least have left us some money!”

  I said, “She didn’t know.” It wasn’t like Mum planned these things. She just got overwhelmed. “Anyway,” I said, “after yesterday she probably doesn’t have any money.”

  Yesterday had been such a good day. Mum’s friend Nikki had come round with her boyfriend and we’d all gone off to the Carnival on the Common. It’s held every year, but this was the first time we’d ever been. There were all kinds of stalls, where you could play Guess the Weight or have a lucky dip or throw hoop-las, and lots of different rides, some of them quite scary. Well, I found them scary! I am a bit of a cowardy custard like that. Tizz was eager to try everything, and Mum let her. Like she let Sammy have three goes at the lucky dip, until she managed to pick something she really wanted.

  We were so busy enjoying ourselves we didn’t ever stop to wonder where the money was coming from. Mum just kept laughing, and spending, and Nikki and her boyfriend kept saying, “Go for it!” Like egging her on. Encouraging her. Mum doesn’t need encouragement! Not when she’s all hyper. She needs someone to take charge and be responsible.

  I should have taken charge. I should have been responsible. I knew Mum couldn’t afford to pay for all those rides, and all those goes on the lucky dip. Plus we all had vegeburgers, and doughnuts, and fizzy drinks. And Mum paid for Nikki and her boyfriend. And they let her. Just taking advantage of Mum’s good nature. They know when she’s on a high she loses all control.

  She’d gone off again, that evening, to meet them. She’d been in a mad whirl, all laughing and flying about from room to room, trying on clothes then tearing them off again.

  “Darlings, how do I look? Do I look like a hag?”

  Like she ever could! Mum is really pretty. Very slim and delicate, with big blue eyes and a foaming mass of hair, red as the setting sun.

  “I feel haglike,” she said. “I can’t go out feeling haglike!”

  How I wished, now, that she hadn’t gone out. But we’d assured her she looked beautiful, and we’d even helped her, in the end, choose which clothes to wear. She’d gone waltzing off, as happy as could be. But I couldn’t help wondering how much money she’d had left. It couldn’t have been very much; not after her mad spending spree. Almost nothing, I’d have thought. How was she going to manage, without any money?

  Tizz could obviously sense what was going through my mind.

  “It’s that Nikki,” she said. “She leads Mum astray.”

  “She’s supposed to be Mum’s friend,” I said.

  Tizz snorted. “Some friend!”

  I wondered if Nikki knew that Mum hadn’t come home. I couldn’t ring her cos I didn’t have her number. I didn’t even know where she lived.

  “Her and that stupid Zak.” Tizz said it vengefully. “They’re the ones that made Mum spend all her money!”

  They certainly hadn’t done anything to stop her. But then neither had I. On the other hand, even if I’d tried I doubt Mum would have taken any notice. She’d just have laughed and cried, “Oh, darling, don’t be such a bore! You take life far too seriously. Try to have a bit of fun, for once.”

  I had had fun! It had been the best day I could remember for a long time. And now I was feeling guilty.

  I thrust my hair back, behind my ears.

  “We’ll manage,” I said. “Don’t worry!” I leaned over and gave Sammy a hug. She had been listening, solemnly, darting anxious glances from one to the other of us. “What we have to do,” I said, “is decide what’s most important. Stuff we need to keep us going. Like bread, and milk, and stuff.”

  Sammy brightened. “Fishy fingers!”

  “Chips,” said Tizz.

  I said, “Chips aren’t good for you. We’ve got to have stuff that’s healthy. Like pasta,” I said. “That’s supposed to be good for you.”

  Tizz pulled a face. “Bo-ring!”

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s boring. You don’t think when people go to the North Pole they worry about stuff being boring? They worry about what’s good for them, like – I don’t know! Dried fish, and stuff.”

  “You gotta be joking,” said Tizz, “if you think we’re going to eat dried fish!”

  I could see that my task was not going to be easy. Tizz is just so difficult at times.

  “Wait there,” I said. I went back to the bedroom and dug a notebook out of my school bag. “Right!” I slapped it down on the table. Tizz eyed it suspiciously.

  “What’s that for?”

  “We need to work things out,” I said.

  “You mean, you’re going to get all bossy?”

  I said, “Well, someone has to. Would you rather it was you?”

  Tizz hunched a shoulder.

  “You want to take over?” I pushed the pad towards her, but she shoved it back at me.

  “I don’t want it!”

  I knew she wouldn’t. The thing about Tizz, she may be sharp as needles and full of mouth, but she is far too impatient to ever sit down and actually plan anything. She also hates being told what to do. It is a constant battle! I know that I am not as bright as she is, but I do usually get things done in the end. Slow but sure, is what Mum says.

  “OK!” I reached out for a pen. “We’re going to sit here,” I said, “and make a shopping list.”

  In the end, we made two lists. The first was things we had to have:

  Bread

  Milk

  Marge

  Cheese

  Eggs

  Cereal

  Mostly chosen by me.

  The second was things we’d like to have:

  Pizza

  Fish Fingers

  Chocolate Biscuits

  Orange Squash

  Sugar

  Jam

  Meatballs

  All of them chosen by Tizz and Sammy.

  “We’ll have to go to Tesco,” I said. “You can get stuff cheaper there.”

  Tizz didn’t like that idea. She complained that it was a long way to walk and we’d have to carry heavy bags back with us. I told her that couldn’t be helped.

  “We’ve got to go where it’s cheapest.”

  Tizz said, “That’s not fair on Mr Petrides. He’s a small shopkeeper. He has to be saved! It’s people like you,” said Tizz, “that put people like him out of business.”

  I did feel a slight twinge of guilt, cos in the past Mr and Mrs Petrides had been really good to us. Sometimes when Mum ran out of money they’d actually let us take stuff and pay for it later. You couldn’t do that at Tesco. But I hardened my heart. I had to! It was a question of survival.

  “I bet if we asked him,” said Tizz, “he’d let us have things on tick.”

  On tick was what Mum called it when she couldn’t afford to pay. I think maybe it meant that Mr Petrides put a tick by the side of her name in his account book.

  “We’ll only do that if we get desperate,” I said. “Otherwise he might ask questions, like where’s your mum or why hasn’t she been in?”

  “Mm… I s’ppose.” Tizz said it reluctantly, but at least it stopped her arguing. The one thing we were terrified of was people asking questions. We’d be safe in Tesco cos nobody knew us.

  I put all the money in my purse except for five £1 coins and five 20p pieces. Tizz watched, suspiciously.

  “What are you doing with that lot?”

  I said, “Saving it. I’m going to put this –” I scooped up the 20p pieces – “in here.” I dropped them into the saucer that Mum kept on the windowsill. “They’re in case we need a bit extra. And this –” the five pound coins – “is our emergency fund. I’m going to leave it indoors so we can’t spend it. I’m going to hide it somewhere. Somewhere safe. Like…” I roamed about the kitchen, looking for a hiding place. “In with the flour!”

  There was a half packet of flour in the cupboard, with an elastic band wrapped rou
nd it. I pushed the coins in there and put the flour back on the shelf.

  Tizz said, “I bet that’s the first place a burglar would think of looking.”

  I told her that I wasn’t scared of burglars. “I’m scared of it getting lost.”

  “Like it absolutely would,” said Tizz, “if it wasn’t hidden in a bag of flour. I mean, if it was just put in an ordinary purse like any normal person would put it.”

  “I just don’t want us being tempted into spending it,” I said. “We’ve got to have something to fall back on.”

  Tizz said, “Yeah, like living on bread and marge. Yuck!”

  Sammy said, “Ugh! Yuck! Bluurgh.”

  They both bent over and pretended to be sick.

  “We want chips,” said Tizz. “We want pizza! We want—”

  “Fishy fingers!”

  “Yay!”

  Tizz and Sammy smacked their hands together in a triumphant high five. I was glad that Sammy had cheered up, but I did hope we weren’t going to have scenes in Tesco. I wasn’t sure I could cope with that. It would be just so embarrassing! Everyone would look at us, especially if Sammy worked herself up into one of her states. Just now and again, if she can’t get what she wants, she’ll throw herself on the ground and drum her heels and refuse to get up. Mum is the only one who knows how to deal with her.

  “I think,” said Tizz, “if you want my opinion, we ought to be allowed to have whatever we want to have. Without you dictating to us!”

  “Just buy nice things,” said Sammy.

  “Yeah! Right. ‘Stead of all that boring muck!” Tizz waved a hand at my list of things we had to have.

  I felt quite cross with her. She wasn’t being at all helpful.

  “Let’s put down some other stuff.” Tizz snatched up the second list and added CRISPS in big capital letters at the bottom of it.

  “Sweeties!” shouted Sammy.

  “SWEETIES,” wrote Tizz.

  She was being deliberately provoking. I almost felt like throwing my purse at her and telling her to get on with it. Let her take the responsibility. But of course she wouldn’t; not when it came to it. She just wanted to challenge my authority. It is very difficult, sometimes, being the oldest, especially when you have a sister who refuses to do what she’s told. And keeps getting the littlest one all worked up. I could see that Sammy was well on the way to having one of her screaming fits.