We had to ask a middle-aged couple in matching green-and-purple sweatshirts how to get out. They pointed us in the right way, but looked at us uneasily.
‘Aren’t you a bit young to be playing in the park by yourselves?’ the woman asked.
‘We’re not. We wandered off and lost our mum,’ I said.
‘What? For goodness’ sake, she’ll be frantic!’
‘No, no – I phoned her on my mobile,’ I said, patting my empty jeans pocket. ‘She just said to come straight to the park gates and she’ll meet us there.’
‘Well, we’d better come with you, to make sure you get there,’ said the woman.
‘No, please don’t. Mum will get even crosser then. It’s all my fault, I was meant to be looking after them,’ I said, and I screwed my face up as if I was trying not to cry.
I thought she’d feel sorry for me and let me go, but she looked more worried than ever.
‘No, we absolutely insist. You might get lost again. It’s a good fifteen-minute walk, maybe longer. Come along, it’s this way,’ she said, while we stared at her, horrified.
Pixie started crying for real and the woman looked concerned.
‘Oh dear, is she hungry?’ she asked.
‘Yes, yes!’ Pixie wailed, as if she hadn’t eaten for days.
‘Poor little pet. What do you want, darling?’
‘Ice cream!’ said Pixie.
Oh, I saw what she was up to. She’d heard the word gate and remembered the whippy van.
‘We haven’t got any ice cream, dear, but we’ve maybe got a nice peppermint,’ said the woman. ‘Arnie, you’ve got the Polos in your pocket, haven’t you?’
Arnie didn’t look as if he wanted to share his Polo mints but he got them out and offered the packet nervously in the direction of Pixie, as if she was a snappy dog and might bite. She grabbed at the packet and then turned up her nose at the smell.
‘It’s toothpaste!’ she said, looking accusingly at Arnie as if he’d played a dirty trick on her.
‘I like Polos,’ said Baxter.
Arnie handed them round to all of us.
‘Say thank you,’ I hissed.
But Baxter wouldn’t and Bliss was too shy and Pixie too intent on whining for ice cream. I could have shaken all of them. I didn’t know what to do. Arnie’s wife was trying to make conversation all along the way: what were our names, where exactly did we live, which school did we go to? I started telling her a whole load of lies to stop her tracking us down.
‘I’m Rose, and this is my brother Mikey and my sister Bluebell and my littlest sister Bunny,’ I said, picking names I knew the kids would like so they’d go along with this charade. I said we lived on a different estate the other end of town, and I had us all going to a different school too. Then she twittered on and on about it, asking us what we liked best at school.
‘I like art,’ I said truthfully.
‘I do too,’ said Bluebell, in a tiny whispery voice.
‘Is art painting? We do finger painting at nursery and I love getting in a mess,’ said Bunny.
‘I like fighting,’ said Mikey, punching the air.
It turned out Arnie and his wife, Elizabeth, had been schoolteachers once upon a time, but they’d both retired now.
‘Though we’re so busy I don’t know how we ever had time to work,’ said Elizabeth.
Yes, they were busy busy busy poking their sharp teachers’ noses into our affairs. I didn’t have a clue how we were going to get rid of them. I kept wondering if I should simply yell, Run! and grab Bunny and yank Mikey and Bluebell into action – but I still wasn’t very sure how far the gate was. Although old Arnie walked in a tottery kind of way, his wife bounced along in her trainers. Perhaps she’d been a PE teacher – I could imagine a whistle bouncing on her big chest. I didn’t want her blowing the whistle on us.
I tried to think of some way we could successfully escape, nibbling at the skin on my lip as we walked.
‘You’re looking really worried, Rose,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Do you think your mother will get very cross?’
I didn’t know what to say for the best.
‘Yes, she’ll get really mad and start whacking us ever so hard,’ said Mikey, thinking he was helping me out.
Elizabeth looked shocked.
‘Your mother hits you?’ she asked.
‘No, of course she doesn’t,’ I said quickly.
‘Yes, she does, she goes whack whack whack,’ said Mikey, gesturing. ‘But it’s OK because I go kerpow kerpow kerpow and I always beat her and get to be the winner because I’m the best at fighting.’
‘I think you’re the best at story-telling,’ said Elizabeth, relaxing.
We got to the top of the hill – and then started on the downward slope, me holding Bunny by her wrist to stop her tumbling. I saw the car park and the gate. Bunny started clamouring, ‘Ice cream!’ until I thought my head would burst.
‘Nearly there,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Can you see any sign of your mum?’
But then – oh glory! – some couple got out of their car, with a daft spaniel leaping up and down. They started calling and waving. ‘Elizabeth! Arnie! Oh my goodness, fancy seeing you here!’
‘Good Lord! Are these your grandchildren?’
‘There’s Mum!’ I shouted, while they were distracted. ‘Thank-you-very-much-goodbye!’
Then we ran for it. I started waving wildly at a woman by the gate, a fat, silly-looking woman nothing like our mum – and she waved back, startled, obviously feeling she knew us. Bliss and Baxter ran beside me, and I managed to clutch Pixie. We could hear Elizabeth and Arnie calling as the dog barked but we just ran faster. When we got to the gate I threw my arms round this complete stranger, practically knocking her over.
‘Hello? What’s all this about?’ she said, laughing nervously.
‘Oh! I thought – I thought you were someone I know,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve go to go now. Come on, kids.’
We ran again, dodging up the first side street so we’d not be visible from the gate. When we were round a corner I let us slow down. We leaned against a garden wall, all of us utterly out of breath.
‘Phew!’ said Pixie.
It was such a strangely old-fashioned thing for her to say that we all burst out laughing.
‘Phew, phew, phew!’ Pixie repeated delightedly.
We trudged on up the road, all of us phewing like anything.
‘My feet hurt, right on their underneaths,’ said Baxter, limping a little.
‘My everything hurts,’ Bliss mumbled.
‘Never mind, we’ll be home soon, and we’ll all have a nice hot bath and a special treat for supper,’ I promised. ‘You’ll get your ice cream, Pixie. I know Mum put some in the freezer.’
‘I want whippy,’ she moaned.
‘Yes, well, I’ll squish it around and make it whippy. And we’ll put cream on the top.’
‘Can I have cream too?’ asked Bliss.
‘We’ll all have cream.’
‘Am I still Bluebell?’
‘If you want to be.’
‘No, I think I want to be me now.’
‘Then that’s who you are, who we all are, Lily and Baxter and Bliss and Pixie, and we’re nearly home.’
We got back to our estate safely without going all round the moon. I started worrying now about the unlocked door. Maybe we’d get back and find the whole flat ransacked, mess everywhere. I’d seen what some of the boys could do if they wanted to teach you a lesson. My chest felt tight and I could scarcely breathe as we crept along the balcony, trying to avoid alerting Old Kath. But when I peeped round the door everything was just as usual, certainly not neat and tidy, but it was only our own mess. There was a little beeping noise in the hallway. It was a message flashing on the telephone.
I pressed the button on the phone and Mum’s voice spoke into the hall.
‘Mum! Mum! Mum! Mum!’ We all called her name. Baxter jumped up and down. Bliss doubled over, clasping her tummy. Pi
xie wriggled, clutching herself. We were all making so much noise that we couldn’t properly hear what she was saying.
‘Shh! Shh, you lot,’ I said. ‘Oh, if only we’d been home.’
‘Mum, I want to talk to Mum!’ said Pixie, trying to clutch the phone.
‘No, darling, it’s just a message from Mum. Listen! maybe she’s telling us when she’s coming home. Come on, shut up, all of you, it’s important!’ I said.
Mum said goodbye. Baxter and Bliss whispered goodbye back and Pixie started crying. I pressed the button again as soon as the tape had rewound.
‘Hi, you kids. Where are you then? I figured you’d be back from school by now. I bet Mikey’s taken you down McDonald’s. Anyway, listen, my blooming mobile doesn’t work here, don’t ask me why, but I’ve sneaked off and I’m using a pay phone though its eating all my change. I’m just checking up and making sure you’re OK. You’re looking after them all right, Mikey, right? Lily, you give Pixie a cuddle from me, eh, and see she gets to bed on time – you know how ratty she is if she doesn’t get enough sleep. Baxter, you be a good boy now for your dad, and Bliss, you speak up for yourself. Lily, you should see it here, you’d love it. My God, the colour of the sky, it’s bright bright blue just the way you crayonned it when you were little. I’ll take you here one day when I’m in the money, I’ll take you all – that’s a promise. Well, gotta go now, nearly out of money. I’m having a great time. Gordon’s a sweetheart. You should see the way everyone looks up to him. How’d you like him for a new daddy, eh? Ha, ha, only joking. I’ll be back soon. Maybe the weekend, whenever, but I know you’re in good hands with Mikey, eh? Bye then, darlings. Bye bye!’
Baxter and Bliss said goodbye all over again. Pixie shivered, her knees together.
‘Ugh, look, she’s wetting the carpet!’ said Baxter, pointing.
‘Oh, Pixie,’ I said, picking her up and whipping her to the toilet.
‘I want Mum,’ she wept.
‘Yes, darling, we all want Mum, but she’s coming home soon,’ I said, yanking her soggy knickers down and sitting her on the toilet.
But she still hadn’t said exactly when she was coming home. Maybe the weekend, whatever. Did that mean she hadn’t even booked her flight yet? I stood hanging onto the cold edge of the wash-basin, loving Mum and hating Mum all at the same time. I thought of her lying on a beach towel with ‘new daddy’ Gordon underneath this bright blue sky – and I wanted to kick sand in her face. How could she leave us like this? But then she thought we were with Mikey. In good hands. I thought of Mikey’s huge fists with their self-inked tattoos and their big sovereign rings and I shuddered. At least we didn’t have to put up with him all week.
‘I want Mum!’ Pixie wailed on the toilet.
‘Look, I’ll be your mum just for this week,’ I said.
‘You’re Lily,’ said Pixie.
‘Yeah, I know, but I’ll be your Lilymum, OK?’
‘Lilymum,’ Pixie repeated. Luckily she quite liked the sound of it. ‘Lilymum, Lilymum, Lilymum!’ She laughed as I gave her a quick wash and found her dry knickers.
‘That’s right, Lilymum’s going to get you a lovely tea now,’ I said. ‘Do you want to come and help me do the cooking, eh, Pixie?’
Pixie clapped her hands. We went to find the others. Baxter was curled up on the sofa, his head on a cushion, while Bliss softly patted his back. She was crying too.
‘Hey, hey, no tears now. Mum’s coming back soon and meanwhile I’m Lilymum and I’m going to cook you all tea.’
‘If you’re Lilymum, am I Bluebell again?’ Bliss asked, sniffing.
‘You can be whoever you like, darling. Come on into the kitchen – you can help make the tea too.’
‘What are we having?’ said Baxter, his voice muffled by the cushion.
‘Sausages! And then ice cream.’
I cooked the sausages under the grill because I didn’t want to risk the frying pan, not with them all jumping about the kitchen with me. I got Baxter to prick them first with a fork. He pretended each one was a little pig and stuck it to death. I let Pixie sprinkle a packet of oven chips onto a tray and then popped them into the oven. I opened a can of beans and let Bliss stir them in the pan, as I knew she’d be the most careful. I took a block of ice cream out of the freezer and lined up the can of cream and some raspberry jam all ready, and poured us each a glass of lemon drink.
The kids got a bit fidgety waiting for the chips to crisp up and I didn’t want them bumping into me while I turned the hot sausages so I sent them off to watch telly for ten minutes. I didn’t call them back till I’d dished up. I felt so happy when they clapped their hands at their full plates.
We ate heartily. I didn’t nag about table manners and let them eat their sausages and chips with their fingers, though I did make them use forks for their baked beans. Then I mashed the ice cream until it was sort of whippy and smothered each scoop with cream and jam, creating my very own ice-cream sundaes.
‘Happy now, Pixie?’ I asked.
She grinned at me. ‘I love you, Lilymum,’ she said, smacking her lips together.
It was the most peaceful evening. We just lolled around the living room watching television. Pixie nodded off where she was so I picked her up and carried her to bed. Bliss was nearly asleep too, snuggling up to Headless and sucking her thumb. Even Baxter was still for once, flopped full-length on the carpet like a tiger-skin rug. I gave them another half-hour and then scooped them up too.
When they were tucked up on the mattress I felt so tired I wanted to crawl in with them, but I was Lilymum now. I cleared up the kitchen, washing up the glasses and plates and putting the pans in to soak. Then I got the broom and swept under the table and wiped it down with a damp cloth. I hummed softly and smiled sweetly even if there was no one to see me. I wanted to look like all those pretty cosy mums you see in the telly adverts. I wasn’t imitating my mum – she always left the dirty dishes till morning and rarely swept up.
‘Life’s too short to faff around with a mop all the time,’ she’d say. ‘Why should I waste it on housework?’
I found I quite liked getting the kitchen clean and tidy, even though I was so tired. I daydreamed about my own flat in the future. I’d clean it every single day, even though there’d be no children to make it messy. I supposed I’d let Bliss and Baxter and Pixie come on a visit, but most of the time I’d be there alone. I’d play beautiful music and loll on my gorgeous rugs and stare out of my picture windows. My flat would be very high up – the penthouse suite! – so maybe I’d be able to see all the hills and trees of our special park. I wouldn’t ever ever ever go off on holiday.
I went into Mum’s bedroom and breathed in her special scent. I fiddled with some of her leftover make-up, smearing grey on my eyelids and purply-red on my lips. Then I opened her wardrobe and selected one of her dresses just to see whether I could look properly grown-up. I stuffed my feet into some high heels and wiggled across the carpet to the mirror, but I looked ludicrous, a small shiny clown in a stupid dress. I tore off all the clothes, washed my face, and then got into Mum’s bed.
‘Come back,’ I said into her pillow. ‘I’m not big enough. I don’t want to be the mum. Come back right now.’
I felt it so fiercely I was almost certain that Mum in Spain would feel it too. She’d clutch her heart and go, ‘My kids! I’m sorry, Gordon, I have to get home to my kids.’ She’d get a taxi to the airport right that minute . . . I thought about her return ticket. What if Gordon wouldn’t pay for it? She had her dodgy credit card, but what if that wouldn’t work either?
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I started thumping my forehead to try to stop all the worries. I shut my eyes and tried to invent an alternative world. I wasn’t Lily Green, older sister of Baxter and Bliss and Pixie. I was Rose – and Mikey and Bluebell and Bunny didn’t exist. I had long fair hair down to my waist and big blue eyes and I wore wonderful designer clothes every single day. I didn’t have a mother or a father. No, I had a lovel
y kind fabulously rich uncle just like Mr Abbott at school, and he indulged me terribly. He took me out to a West End show every night, and afterwards we had tremendously grand suppers at posh restaurants with waiters in fancy outfits and we both drank champagne. At weekends my uncle took me to art galleries and we walked round all the paintings hand in hand. At the end of each visit my uncle told me to choose my favourite painting and then he had it wrapped and sent to me.
When I woke in the middle of the night, the mum thoughts were whirling around in my head again and I couldn’t pretend vividly enough to blot them out. I didn’t realize I was crying until I heard someone creep into Mum’s bedroom and wriggle into bed with me.
‘Lily?’ said Bliss, her cold little fingers patting me. ‘Lily, don’t cry. It will be all right.’
‘No, it won’t,’ I sobbed.
‘Yes it will. You’ll look after us. You’re great at looking after us. Better than Mum,’ said Bliss.
‘I’m sick of being the mum.’
Bliss was quiet for a moment. Then she put her arms round my neck. ‘It’s OK then, I’ll be mum tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Oh, Bliss,’ I said, crying more.
‘I’m the mum and you’re my little girl and I’m going to give you a great big cuddle and then you’re going to go fast asleep,’ said Bliss.
Bliss couldn’t look after anyone, not even herself. But when she held me, she did feel a bit like a real mum. I fell asleep again and we didn’t wake up till morning.
There was no sound coming from Baxter and Pixie so we left them sleeping. Bliss and I stayed curled up, still playing that she was the mum and I was the little girl.
‘I’m hungry, Mum,’ I said, in an ickle-baby voice.
‘Don’t worry, baby, I’ll feed you,’ said Bliss.
I was expecting pretend food, but she slipped out of bed and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back with a packet of crisps.
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