by Sara Gethin
‘I know you don’t like to,’ she says. ‘You’re too polite. I keep telling Moira. That’s what our Jason needs – manners, like the little boy next door. Go on, take it.’ I’m taking it. I’m taking the orange. ‘Enjoy it, bach. Now, time you were in bed. Goodbye.’ She’s closing the door. She’s shutting it tight.
I’m knocking the door. I’m knocking again and again. And again and again. She’s not coming back. I can hear her telly. It’s very loud. I am taking my orange back through the hedge. I’m going back through the leaves. And the scratchy branches.
And I am wondering about going to Kaylee’s house. It’s down the road. I can see it from my bedroom. But I haven’t seen a light in the window for a long time. I think they’ve gone to see Kaylee’s granny. Kaylee told Miss when we were in class. When we were watching the programme about the blue dog. And Miss was talking about Mammy and Nanno and Dat. And me.
I’m wondering and wondering about going to Kaylee’s house. I don’t think I’m allowed to go there. It’s across the road. And it’s six front doors down. I think across the road and six front doors down is going outside.
I’m going back into our house. I’m taking my orange into the kitchen. I’m putting it on the worktop. With the dirty cups and the dirty plates. And all the old takeaway tubs. I’m putting my orange down. And I have remembered something.
I forgot to say ‘thank you’.
* * *
I am back in my high sleeper bed. It’s dark. There’s a bit of light from the road. I’m holding my tippy truck. And my fifty pence. And Nanno’s letter. And I am very cold. I’ve picked up all the clothes from Mammy’s floor. And I’ve put them on my bed. I’ve made a big big pile of clothes. And I’m trying to be warm under them. But I’m still cold. My hands are shaky. And my arms are shaky. My legs are shaky too.
I’m looking at my library book. It’s about a boy called Danny. I wish it was about a boy called Charlie. But I had to take the book about Charlie back to school. I’m trying to read the words in this book. But it’s too dark. And the words are very hard.
I’m looking at the pictures instead. It’s not too dark for them. They are sticky pictures. I’m looking at the ones of Danny. And his father. I’m turning the pages. I’m looking for another picture. I’ve found one with lots of people in it. The people are laughing in the picture. They’re laughing and laughing. And laughing and laughing.
They are laughing at me. They’re laughing because Mammy hasn’t come home. They’re laughing because I don’t know where she is. They’re laughing because I’m very hungry. And cold and scared. They’re laughing and laughing. And laughing and laughing. And they are not helping me with the words.
I’m shutting the book. I’m putting it under my truck.
I’m going down my ladder. I’m going to get a magazine. I’m going to look for some good words. I’m going to find turntable and goods wagon. I’m picking up a magazine. It’s very dark. It’s hard to see in the little bit of light. I’m holding the magazine near my nose. It smells like Dat. It smells like his cosy armchair. I want to be with Dat. I want to be with him now.
‘Dat!’ I’m shouting. ‘I want you to come and get me. I don’t want to be here anymore. I need you to come and get me.’ I’m listening. I’m listening to hear Dat running up the path. I’m listening and listening. ‘Dat! Mammy has gone and I need you. I need you to come now.’
I’m running to the window. I’m banging on the glass. ‘Dat!’ I am banging and banging. And banging and banging. The glass is very bouncy. ‘I need you to come and get me. Why aren’t you coming, Dat? Why aren’t you coming to get me?’
I’m banging and banging and banging and banging. Dat isn’t coming up the path. He isn’t coming to get me. There’s no one outside. ‘Dat, Dat!’ I’m banging on the glass and I’m shouting. The inside of my neck is hurting. ‘Dat, Dat!’
There’s a dog running down the road. It’s the black dog with three legs. It’s the dog that walks to school with Nadia. The dog has stopped running. It’s looking at me banging the window. It’s running again now. It’s running away. I’m still banging and banging. There’s no one outside. Only the lady in her house across the road. She’s moving her curtains. She’s looking at me through her window. I can see her eyes looking at my eyes.
And now she has gone too.
* * *
It’s light outside again. I’m in the front room. I’m peeping out of the window. I’m looking to see Mammy coming home. I’ve been looking for a long time. I can’t see Brick’s car. I’m peeping up the road. Now I’m peeping down the road. I can see other cars. But I can’t see Brick’s blue car anywhere.
Someone is standing by the gate. I can see a bit of their jumper next to the hedge. I’m moving to the side of the window. I’m moving very fast. I don’t want them to see me. I’m staying very still.
Someone’s knocking on the window. Someone’s knocking very hard. Someone’s shouting. ‘Oi! Oi!’ I’m not moving. I’m staying very very still. ‘Oi, it’s me, thicko!’ the voice says. ‘Open the door.’
I know that voice. It’s Wes’s voice! I’m looking through the window. I can see Wes. I’m waving to him. He’s waving to me. I’m smiling and smiling. ‘Open the door,’ he says again.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not allowed.’
‘Who says?’
‘Mammy.’
‘Mammy, Mammy!’ He’s trying to copy me. He’s laughing. ‘Thicko. Go ask her if I can come in.’
‘I can’t. She’s not here.’
‘Let me in then.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not allowed.’
Wes is pulling a face. ‘Why’re you worried if she’s not even there?’ He’s doing a funny dance. I’m laughing. ‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Let me in.’
I’m looking up and down the road. I can’t see Brick’s car anywhere. I can’t see Mammy anywhere. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Just for a minute.’ I’m going to the front door. I’m turning the little handle. Wes is pushing the door on the other side. He’s pushing it open. He’s pushing past me. He’s running into the front room.
‘Urgh,’ he says. ‘Your house stinks.’ He’s holding his nose. He’s squishing up his face. ‘It smells as bad as you. Why’re your walls like that?’
‘Mammy doesn’t like the wallpaper. It’s too flowery.’
He’s running up to the wall. He’s pulling a bit of the wallpaper off. ‘Don’t do that, Wes,’ I say. ‘Only Mammy’s allowed to do that.’
He hasn’t heard me. He’s pulling off a bit more. And a bit more. He’s throwing the paper all over the carpet. ‘This is great,’ he says. He’s pulling and pulling and pulling. He’s looking round the front room now. ‘Where’s all your stuff?’
‘What stuff?’
‘Normal stuff, like chairs and pictures and tables?’
‘We’ve got a chair,’ I say. I’m pointing to the big black chair. ‘And a settee.’
He’s looking at the floor. ‘Why’s your carpet so dirty?’ he says. ‘Can’t your mam clean it?’
He’s running into the kitchen. ‘What a dump! Haven’t you got a bin?’ He’s pulling his foot back. He’s kicking a takeaway tub. It’s flying into the air. The orange gooey stuff is falling out of it. ‘Uncle Vic would kill Mam if our kitchen was like this.’ He’s kicking one of Mammy and Brick’s empty tins now. It’s bouncing round the kitchen floor. It’s knocking the other tins and takeaway tubs. ‘He’d give her a good slapping.’
He’s running up the stairs. I’m running up the stairs too. I’m hoping he won’t go into the bathroom. There are a lot of things in the bathroom cupboard. Things you must NOT touch.
The bathroom door is closed. I closed it this morning. He’s going past it. He’s going into my bedroom and he’s stopped. ‘What the…?’ he says.
He’s going to my train table. He’s touching the tracks. He’s touching the little hed
ges. The ones Dat and me made. He’s touching the little animals in the fields. The fields Dat and me painted with green paint. He’s touching the little people Dat and me put near the roads. And the little people we put near the train station. He’s touching the barriers at the level crossing. He’s pushing down on the ends. He’s making them lift. He’s letting them drop. He’s lifting them up again. And letting them drop again.
‘Where did you get this?’ He’s very quiet now.
‘Dat made it for me.’
He’s still lifting the barriers. He’s still letting them drop. ‘What’s a dat?’
‘My dat.’ I’m trying to remember. I’m trying to remember what a dat is. Wes is trying to pick up the animals. And the people. I’m remembering now. I’m remembering what Nanno told me. She said Dat is Mammy’s foster daddy and Nanno is Mammy’s foster mammy. Nanno and Dat are like my nan and grandad. But not my real nan and grandad. My real nan and grandad went to Heaven. They went a long time ago before I was born. ‘Dat is my mammy’s foster daddy,’ I say.
‘Your dat is like your uncle then.’
‘I don’t think he’s my uncle,’ I say. ‘I haven’t got an uncle.’
‘I’ve got loads of uncles. And loads of half-brothers. And millions of cousins.’
‘I haven’t got any cousins,’ I say.
‘Why not?’ Wes says.
‘I don’t know.’
He’s looking at my table again. ‘Why’s it like that?’ He’s pushing his finger into the hole. The hole the rain made when my table was in Brick’s car.
‘It got wet.’ He’s trying to pick up the people again now. He’s pulling and pulling. I say, ‘The people are stuck down.’
‘Why?’ He’s still pulling and pulling.
‘They stay still. Just the trains move. And the barriers. Everything else stays still.’
‘The trains?’ he says. ‘Where are the trains?’ He’s looking round my bedroom.
‘They’ve gone.’
‘Gone where? Where are they?’ He’s looking under the table. He’s knocking over my pile of magazines. He’s looking under the clothes on my floor. ‘These stink,’ he says. He’s throwing them under my train table. He’s climbing up my ladder. He’s climbing onto my bed. It’s shaking and shaking.
I don’t want him to find my truck. Or my coin. I don’t want him to find Nanno’s letter. I don’t want him to talk about Heaven again. ‘They’re not up there,’ I say. I want him to come down.
He’s throwing my clothes everywhere. They’re falling onto the floor. ‘Deeesgusting! Your bed stinks, stinks, STINKS. And I still can’t find the trains. What’s this?’ He’s holding up the jar.
‘It’s jam.’
He’s putting his nose near it. ‘Yuck!’ He’s moving the spoon round and round in it. ‘And the glass is all broken.’ He’s throwing the jar back on my bed. ‘Where are your trains?’
‘A man’s got them,’ I say.
‘Oh.’ He’s coming back down my ladder again. He’s coming down fast. He didn’t find my truck or my coin. Or Nanno’s letter. ‘Did he steal them?’
‘No.’ I’m feeling sad again. I’m feeling like I did the first day I went to my new school. And when I came home all my trains were gone. I asked Mammy where they were and she said she’d sold them. Then I cried and she told me to shut up. ‘Mammy sold them. To a man called Leper.’
‘Leper? Uncle Vic knows him. He tells kids he’s got a train track in his shed. Then they go in and they never come out again.’ He’s hitting the table with the side of his hand. ‘Train table’s rubbish then,’ he says. ‘It’s rubbish without the trains.’ He’s hitting the little people now and the little animals.
‘Don’t do that, Wes. They’ll break.’ He hasn’t heard me. He’s hitting the little hedges now. And the little barriers. The little people and the little animals are stuck down. And the little hedges and the little barriers. They are all stuck down with Dat’s special glue. They’re stuck down tight. ‘Please, Wes.’ He’s not listening. The hedges are bending. They are bending a lot. The barriers are bending too. But they’re stuck tight to the table.
He’s running downstairs now. He’s jumping over the bottom three steps. I’m running downstairs too. I’m jumping over the bottom two steps. ‘Come to the park,’ he says. He’s opening the front door.
‘Can’t. I’m not allowed.’
‘Who says?’
‘Mammy.’
‘She’s not here though, is she?’ He’s banging and banging the letterbox. ‘Where’s she gone anyway?’
‘I don’t know. But she might come back when I’m out.’
‘It’s only round the corner,’ Wes says.
‘She might come back.’
‘There’s loads of kids there.’
‘Can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m not allowed.’
‘I’m going then.’ He’s going through the door. He’s running down the path. ‘See you.’ He’s shouting it over his shoulder. ‘See you, thicko.’ He’s running up the road.
‘Bye.’ I’m shouting too. ‘Bye, Wes.’
I’m closing the front door. I’m closing it tight. I’m going back to the front room. I’m going to the window. I’m watching Wes running up the road. I’m watching and watching until he’s gone.
And I’m looking for Mammy again now. I’m looking for Brick’s car. I’m looking for Mammy and Brick. I’m waiting for them to come home. I’m waiting and waiting. And I am peeping through the window. I’m waiting and waiting for Mammy to come home. And waiting and waiting. And waiting and waiting.
I’ve been waiting a long time. Someone’s running up the path. Someone’s running up it fast. It’s Wes. He’s come back. He’s knocking on the window again.
‘Oi! Oi!’
‘Wes!’ I’m smiling and smiling. ‘You came back.’
‘Open the door,’ he says. ‘Quick! Open the door NOW.’
* * *
I’m running down the road with Wes and we’re running and running to the park and we’re going to see Mammy because she’s with all the children there and she told Wes I’m allowed to go to the park and she sent Wes to come and get me.
I’m running round the corner on my wobbly wobbly legs and I can see the park and I can see all the children and the big boys sitting on top of the slide and the big girls sitting on top of the climbing frame and I’m looking for Mammy and I’m looking for her yellow hair and I’m looking and running and looking and running.
Wes and me are running through the gate now and we’re running into the park and I’m looking for Mammy and I’m looking and looking and Wes is running in front of me. I say, ‘Where is she?’ It is very hard to talk.
‘Wha’cha say?’ Wes is stopping. He’s turning round.
I’m stopping too. ‘Where’s Mammy?’ I am holding my tummy and I’m looking and looking round the park.
Wes is smiling and he’s licking his lips and he’s shouting up to the boys sitting on top of the slide. ‘Look,’ Wes says. ‘I brought him.’
The big boys are looking down at us and they’re laughing and they’re drinking from their tins too.
‘Where’s Mammy?’ I’m saying it to Wes and my eyes are looking round and round the park because they’re looking for Mammy.
‘Did you hear that?’ Wes is saying it to the big boys. ‘He said, “Where’s Mammy?” Ha ha!’
The big boys are laughing and they look like they will fall off the slide and they’re saying ‘Where’s Mammy? Where’s Mammy?’ and they’re saying it and laughing.
‘Is she still here?’ My eyes are looking and looking all round the park.
One of the boys says, ‘Yeah, Ree the Slag’s here.’ He’s having a drink from his tin. ‘She’s round by the bins.’
I’m looking for the bins but I can’t see them. I can’t see them anywhere. I can’t see the bins and I can’t see Mammy. ‘Where?’ I say. ‘Where is she?’
The big boys are laughing again. They are very loud. Wes is laughing
too. They’re making a lot of noise.
‘Where?’ I say. ‘I can’t see her.’
The big boys are running down the slide. Some of them are jumping down the ladder. They are standing next to Wes and me. They’re very big. They smell like Mammy and Brick’s empty tins. One of them’s coming close to me. He’s bending down. He’s putting his face near me. His face has lots of red bumps on it. Some of the bumps have yellow tops. There are bumps all over his cheeks and his chin.
He’s taking a big breath in through his nose. ‘Urgh!’ He’s bending away from me. He’s holding his nose. ‘That’s rank.’ He’s coughing now.
The other boys are laughing at him. Wes is laughing too. Wes is laughing most of all. ‘I told you,’ Wes says. ‘I told you it was disgusting.’ He’s laughing and laughing. ‘Deeesgusting.’
The other boys are bending down to me. They’re very close. They’re putting their noses next to me. Their noses have got little black dots all over them. And purple lumps. The boys are looking at each other. Their eyes are big. I can see little red lines in them. They’re holding their noses now. They’re turning away. The air is bursting out of them. It’s bursting out through their mouths. The air is bursting out as laughing. They’re pointing to me and laughing. They’re laughing and laughing.
One of the boys is shouting to the girls. ‘Hey, Tallulah. Come and smell this.’
The girls can’t hear him. They’re shouting back. ‘What you saying?’
He’s shouting again. ‘Come and smell this.’
Two of the girls are getting down from the climbing frame. They’re getting down slowly. They’re walking over to us. They’re tapping their hair. They’re tapping their skirts. They’re chewing with their mouths open.
‘What is it?’ one girl says. She’s starting to blow a bubble.
‘This kid,’ the big boy says. ‘Smell it.’
The girl’s bending towards me. Her bubble is big now. It’s getting bigger and bigger.
‘Have you seen Mammy?’ I say. ‘She has yellow hair like you.’
She’s moving away from me now. She’s moving away from me fast. Her bubble has popped. It’s all over her lips and her chin. She’s curling her tongue round. She’s pulling the popped bubble back into her mouth with her tongue. ‘Oh my God.’ She’s covering her face with her hands. She’s holding her nose. ‘What is it? What is it?’