Lily Alone

by Jacqueline Wilson

  An old lady was feeding the ducks on the pond with her little grandson, about Pixie’s age.

  ‘She’s our special royal zoo-keeper,’ I whispered. ‘We don’t just have ducks, you know. We have all sorts of birds – swans and geese and pelicans and flamingos – and in those other big deep ponds, the ones where we paddled, we have our very own dolphins.’

  The toddler grandson was rubbish at feeding the ducks. He couldn’t get the hang of throwing the bread at all. He just let go and each piece fell down onto his feet.

  ‘No, dear, you have to throw it,’ said his grandma. ‘Use your arm a bit.’

  She showed him and he tried to copy her, but he hurled his whole body forward and toppled into the water before she could catch hold of him.

  ‘Oh, Benjie!’ she shrieked, trying to reach him.

  ‘I’ll haul him out. You’ll spoil your trousers,’ I said, wading in and scooping him up. He was perfectly all right, just soaking wet up to his armpits, but he was howling his head off.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, we’d better get you home, you silly sausage,’ said his grandma. She handed the packet of sliced bread over to me. ‘Perhaps you’d like to feed the ducks, dear?’

  I didn’t feed the ducks, I fed the four of us. The bread wasn’t even stale and there were two proper slices each, and an end crust to divide into four. We were very thirsty then so we went to the toilets at the other end of the garden and drank cold water from the tap. Pixie found this fun but difficult and got her T-shirt soaked, but it definitely needed a bit of a wash.

  ‘Will you go and nick us more stuff for lunch, Lily?’ Baxter said.

  ‘We’ve still got some fruit left back at our tree. Maybe I’ll get something for supper. Or maybe . . .’ I didn’t finish my sentence out loud. Maybe we’ll be back home with Mum, I thought.

  I tried to think it through for hours. I was worried about us all trailing home to see if Mum was there. It would unsettle Pixie for a start, when she’d calmed down at last and didn’t even mention Mum any more. It would be much better if I nipped home quickly, to check whether Mum was back or not, and then rushed right back to the park. I imagined Mum and me together, hugging each other, and then Mum telling me all about her holiday.

  I was really hoping it hadn’t worked out at all. With a bit of luck she’d be well over this Gordon by now. I wanted her to tell me all about him. We’d maybe have a laugh or even a cry together. Then Mum would come with me and we’d collect the kids and then go off and have fish and chips for supper back home. I’d put the kids to bed and then I’d have a cup of tea with Mum and she’d tell me I’d done a grand job looking after them.

  ‘I’d trust you with the kids any time, Lily,’ she’d say. ‘But don’t worry, I’m never ever ever going away without you again.’ And we’d give each other a kiss and it would all end happily ever after, just like a fairy story.

  It would be so disappointing if Mum wasn’t back at the flat. I could take it, but the others couldn’t. So I waited till late afternoon, when we were all playing back at our tree.

  ‘Now listen, you lot. I want you all to get into our tree, just like you’re going to bed. I need to know you’re all hidden away safe, out of trouble. I’m going to go off and – and see about supper,’ I said.

  ‘I’m coming with you, Lily!’ said Baxter. ‘You need me to get over the wall.’

  ‘No, I need you to stay here and look after Bliss and Pixie. You’re in charge, Baxter, OK?’

  He fidgeted, wondering whether he wanted to argue or not.

  ‘The girls can’t manage without you,’ I said.

  Baxter nodded at me solemnly.

  ‘OK then, Lily. Don’t worry. I’m in charge.’

  ‘You will be all right, Lily?’ Bliss asked.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. I bent near her, as if I was giving her a kiss, and whispered in her ear. ‘You’re in charge really, Bliss. Look after Pixie for me.’

  I helped them all scramble into the tree and then I set off, running. It seemed so strange to be on my own. I felt so little and light without the others tagging on. I was so used to looking out for them, telling them what to do, thinking up games for them. I reached the park gates in no time. It felt even stranger running out of the park, feeling hard pavement under my feet instead of grass and sandy path. I had to lean on a gatepost to get my breath, rubbing the stitch in my side.

  Please be back home, Mum, I said inside my head. Please, please, please.

  I walked on down the road, round the corner, up the hill, my heart thumping. I went in the entrance to the estate and then started running again all the way to our block. Up the stairs, panting now, then waiting in the stairwell to catch my breath, tiptoeing past Old Kath’s, along the balcony to our yellow door. I stood in front of it, fists clenched, and then I timidly rattled the letter box. I waited. I tried again, louder now. Perhaps she still hadn’t heard me. I bent down and called through the letter box.

  ‘Mum? Mum, are you there?’

  I heard someone moving behind me. I whipped round – but it was just Old Kath in her scuffed slippers.

  ‘What are you calling your mum for? She ain’t in there, is she?’ she said.

  ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you know all right. She’s done a runner, hasn’t she? We’ve had all sorts round here, knocking at your door – teachers, social workers, even the police.’

  I felt sick. I leaned against our door, my hand over my mouth.

  ‘Yes, they’ve all been on the lookout for you. Where’ve you been hiding? They came and told me all about it, acting like I’d got you, asking this, asking that, peering all round my flat. Where are the others, Lily? Bliss and Baxter and Pixie. Such bally silly names! Where does your mother get them from, that’s what I’d like to know. Who does she think she is?’ She chuntered on, her little eyes beady with excitement, lipstick smeared sideways on her mouth.

  ‘You shut up about my mum, you ugly old witch,’ I said.

  ‘What? Don’t you stand there mouthing off at me! Oh, you’re in so much trouble, you and your brother and sisters.’ She pounced on me, grabbing my arm. ‘You’re coming back to my flat while I call the police!’

  ‘Are you mad? Get off me!’ I thumped her hard in her horrible old-lady chest and ran for it.

  I scurried down the dark stairwell and made for the dustbin sheds. I hid inside that horrible smelly shed and cried. I’d let myself believe Mum really would be back and yet she was obviously still in Spain, not giving a toss about us. And Mr Abbott had clearly got suspicious and told tales, and now everyone was after us. We’d get taken into care and Mum would be put in prison.

  Our only hope was to stay hidden in the park until Mum came back at last, and then pretend we were all away with her. Old Kath would poke her nose in and say she’d seen me, but who would believe a mad old lady like her? Yes, that’s what I had to do: stay hidden in the park till tomorrow, or next week, or whenever. Meanwhile I had to find something for the kids to eat.

  I wondered about scrambling up into the rubbish bins and foraging there, but they all smelled so bad. I was sure any food would be rotten. I couldn’t risk poisoning the kids.

  I wiped my eyes and nose with my T-shirt and then crept out. I scurried away from the estate, sure everyone was looking at me, worried that they all knew about Mum. I went up to the little parade of shops. I wondered if I dared try to nick some chocolate from Mr Patel’s, but he didn’t let kids into his shop on their own.

  The smell from the chippy was making my mouth water. I stood outside, breathing in the wonderful warm salty smell. Joe, the chippy man, saw me lurking and waved.

  ‘Hey there, Lily. Come for five fish suppers?’

  I hesitated. I liked Joe and he’d always seemed to like me, giving me extra chips or adding the odd little bit of batter to my portion. There was no one else in the shop. I stepped in, swallowing, trying to get up the nerve.

  ‘What’s up with you then, chickie?’ he said.

>   Maybe I had tear-stains on my cheeks, or perhaps I just looked worried sick.

  ‘Joe, I need four fish suppers, or maybe three. I could share with Pixie.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  ‘Yes, but – I haven’t got any money,’ I said.

  ‘Well, go and ask your mum, darling.’

  ‘I . . . can’t.’

  He looked at me. I waited for the questions. Maybe he’d laugh at me or get angry for wasting his time. But he started turning fish in the fat and shovelling chips.

  ‘Pay me when you can,’ he said simply.

  ‘Oh, Joe! Thank you so much!’ I started crying again like a fool.

  Joe served each fish supper up carefully in its cardboard box, sprinkling the chips with salt and adding a slice of lemon to the fish. He put all four boxes in a carrier and handed them over.

  ‘There you are, love.’

  ‘You’re an angel, Joe,’ I said, and took them quick before he changed his mind.

  It seemed much further trudging back to the park and the fish suppers started to feel surprisingly heavy. I kept swapping hands, the carrier banging uncomfortably against my legs. I still felt horribly conspicuous, sure that people were staring at me, pointing, whispering to each other. Every time I saw someone use a mobile phone I was worried that they were calling the police. I kept peering round anxiously whenever I heard a car, sure it was them.

  I got inside the park gates and started running down the sandy path. I knew where I was going. The route was familiar now and I’d marked the tree, but it seemed to be taking longer to find it than I’d thought. What if I couldn’t find my way back? What if the children were stuck in the tree, waiting and waiting until it got dark? I started running again, desperate to get to them, sure they’d be worried sick by now. Poor Bliss would be beside herself, Pixie in tears, Baxter red in the face, trying not to cry . . .

  I was so sure they’d be in a state that it was almost annoying to come across Bliss and Baxter swinging on one of the lowest branches of the tree, waving their legs, while Pixie capered about, grunting. They were all laughing their heads off.

  ‘What are you all doing? I told you to stay in the tree!’

  ‘It got too squashed in the tree, and Pixie had to get out anyway to do a wee,’ said Baxter.

  ‘We were playing such a funny game called monkeys, Lily,’ said Bliss. ‘I made it up and the others liked it a lot. I was trying to look after us like you do. Don’t be cross.’

  ‘You lot aren’t taking this seriously. People could be out looking for us, ready to grab us and take us into care. We’ve got to hide,’ I said.

  ‘But there’s no one here, silly,’ said Baxter. ‘What’s that you’ve got in the carrier bag? It smells good.’ He tried to grab it.

  ‘Leave off ! I’ll give it to you when you’re all sitting down nicely. We’ll go in the ferns and duck down out of sight if anyone comes.’

  ‘What have you got for us, Lily?’

  ‘It’s fish and chips,’ I said proudly. ‘Enough for all of us.’

  ‘Hurray, hurray, fish and chips!’

  ‘Shh! we’ve got to be quiet. Come on, in the ferns.’

  They did as they were told now, eyes bright, smacking their lips. I handed out the packets of fish and chips. They were only lukewarm now, of course, but they still tasted wonderful. It was only when we were picking out the last little crumbs of chip and batter that Bliss wriggled closer to me.

  ‘Did you go home, Lily?’ she whispered.

  I nodded.

  ‘So Mum hasn’t come back yet?’

  Pixie looked up, and started mouthing, ‘Mum, Mum, Mum.’

  ‘I think she could be coming back tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘So she’s not there now. She’s a mean old bag,’ said Baxter. ‘She’s bad to go away and leave us.’

  ‘Stop it. You mustn’t ever tell on her because then they won’t let us live with her. They’ll give you away to a new foster mum and dad.’

  ‘I don’t care. I don’t need a dad, I’ve got one.’

  ‘And we’ve got a mum, when she comes back.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Bliss said.

  ‘Yes, I hope so. When she comes back we’ll all go back home and pretend she never went away, and if anyone asks us, police or social workers, we’ll swear we were away on holiday with her, OK?’

  ‘But Mr Abbott came round and saw us,’ Bliss said.

  ‘Shut up! I don’t want to talk about him,’ I said fiercely.

  I couldn’t bear to think that it was Mr Abbott who had told on us. Mr Abbott, my special friend. He’d made it all so complicated now. Maybe we could never go back. We’d have to live in the park for ever.

  When I went to sleep that night I imagined us in five years’ time, still living here. I’d be sixteen then, practically grown up, so I’d be able to build a proper treehouse for us. I could plan it all out in my drawing book, get Baxter to gather wood, and we’d build a house way up in the branches where we’d be safe for ever. We wouldn’t just eat other people’s leftovers. Bliss and I would learn about wild herbs and berries, and gather nuts and cook wonderful stews over a little fire. I thought about meat. There were hundreds of rabbits in the park, not to mention the deer. Baxter might be up to hunting, but I couldn’t stand the thought of killing all those beautiful creatures. We could maybe go fishing in the ponds at night, but the rest of the time we’d have to be vegetarian.

  I could teach Bliss and Baxter and Pixie all their schoolwork. We could maybe get books from one of the posh houses, pretending they were our library and we were just borrowing them. We’d need to nick more clothes though, but we could manage with just one or two outfits each year, perhaps old clothes people left outside charity shops. Maybe one day someone would leave their old banger in the car park and we’d fix it up. Baxter would be brilliant at that. Then we’d drive all round the park in our car at night . . .

  I went to sleep believing we could really live here for ever, but when I woke in the night I felt small and scared again. I wondered how on earth I was going to manage. I was so cramped up underneath the others in the tree I couldn’t move. I disentangled myself as best I could, climbed out, and stretched out in the ferns. I had more room now but it felt so lonely and cold, and I was scared the deer might come along and trample me. I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the moon and stars.

  Please let us be safe, I wished. Make me able to look after the kids.

  Perhaps I didn’t want to live all alone in my white house when I was grown up. Perhaps I wanted Bliss and Baxter and Pixie living with me too, the four of us for ever.

  I lay awake for ages, the stars spinning above me. I didn’t get to sleep until the darkness faded to an eerie silvery-grey, and I knew it was nearly dawn. I fell deeply asleep until I was vaguely aware of the kids chatting to each other. I heard several little thuds so I guessed they were out of the tree. Pixie started wailing and I tried to open my eyes but she quietened after a minute or two.

  When I next stirred I heard her choking with laughter. They were all laughing, playing happily together. I burrowed deeper into my ferny bed, wishing I could stay there for ever. I didn’t want to get up and face the day. I’d have to try to find us something to eat and I was fast running out of ways to do it. I’d also have to decide whether I dared risk creeping back to the flat to look for Mum all over again. I didn’t want to be the eldest any more, looking after everyone. I seemed to do that even when Mum was around. I wanted someone to look after me.

  The kids were still laughing but Bliss was squealing, frightened about something. I forced myself to sit up in the ferns and looked for the children. I rubbed my eyes. Where on earth were they? They sounded so near but I couldn’t see them at all.

  ‘Bliss? Baxter? Pixie? I called.

  Pixie giggled and then pounced on me from behind.

  ‘You’ve woke up, Lily! We’re playing monkeys again. I can’t get up the tree but Baxter can – and Bliss.’

 
‘Up?’

  I looked up – and just about died. Baxter and Bliss were right up at the top of the tree, swinging precariously from a branch.

  ‘Oh, you idiots! Come down! Come down this minute!’ I called.

  ‘We’re monkeys. We don’t come down, do we, Bliss. We go up and up and up,’ said Baxter, making silly grunty monkey noises to punctuate his sentence.

  ‘You wait till I catch you! And how dare you get Bliss to do it too. Come down or I’ll come up and slap you down,’ I yelled.

  Baxter saw I meant business. He hung there for a good thirty seconds, just to show me, and then he started edging his way back along the branch to the trunk of the tree.

  ‘That’s right. Good boy. Now you, Bliss,’ I shouted.

  ‘I’m up really, really high,’ Bliss squealed.

  ‘Yes, you are. Come down now!’

  Bliss clung to the branch, wrapping her arms and legs round it.

  ‘Come on, Bliss, edge along like Baxter. Gently now, a little bit at a time,’ I called. ‘Don’t look down!’

  Bliss did look down, and started crying.

  ‘I said don’t look down.’

  ‘I’m too high up!’ Bliss wailed.

  ‘Yes, I know you are.’

  ‘I wanted to be brave like Baxter.’

  ‘Well, you are, Bliss, but that doesn’t mean you go scampering up to the top of trees like a demented squirrel.’ I tried to sound calm, telling her silly jokes so she’d relax a bit. ‘Come along, you need to come down now, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘I . . . can’t,’ said Bliss.

  ‘Yes, you can. Show her how, Baxter.’

  ‘It’s easy-peasy,’ said Baxter, swinging himself onto the branch again.