I paid and started licking slowly and appreciatively, holding the ice cream very close to my chest. ‘Well, if he does, we don’t even have to speak to them,’ I said. ‘We’ll just march off with Tyrone, OK?’
‘OK. Yes, good plan.’
‘And act like you couldn’t care less that they’re a couple now,’ I advised.
‘Well, I don’t care,’ said Mum, tossing her hair. ‘It’s just this all seems a bit weird. I’m only doing it for you, Jess. Are you looking forward to seeing Tyrone?’
I shrugged, careful not to tilt my ice cream. ‘Sort of. Though he might be a bit different now. You know, like Ava and Alice were different when they visited us.’
‘Maybe we’re the ones who are different now, Jess,’ said Mum.
A little crowd of children from the campsite came rushing towards the ice-cream van. Most of them were wearing baseball caps. I stood to one side, guarding my ice cream, holding it so close that it started dribbling down my T-shirt.
‘Jess! You’re getting all mucky! Hold your ice cream properly. You’re acting like someone’s going to snatch it,’ said Mum.
‘Someone might,’ I said darkly.
We walked along the promenade towards the beach huts. There were a couple of big lads walking along, eating fish and chips out of cardboard boxes.
‘Is that their breakfast or their lunch?’ I wondered.
‘Goodness knows,’ said Mum, wrinkling her nose. ‘The smell! I really do feel sick now.’
The lads ate with relish and then chucked their boxes in the bin and went to queue for ice cream.
‘Dear God!’ said Mum. ‘Those boys must have stomachs the size of suitcases.’
A boy in a baseball cap suddenly dashed out from behind the beach huts and, quick as a flash, delved into the rubbish bin for the two boxes. It was hard to tell – most boys in baseball caps look pretty similar – but I reckoned it was the ice-cream snatcher.
I started gulping my cone as quickly as I could.
‘Look at that boy!’ said Mum. ‘What’s he doing, rummaging in the bin like that?’
We watched him open one box. There wasn’t much fish left, but he crammed the nasty grey skin into his mouth, along with a few leftover chips. Then he started on the next box, running his fingers round the edges for little crispy bits of batter.
‘How disgusting!’ I said.
‘Yes, but he actually looks desperate,’ said Mum, frowning. ‘Like he’s really, really hungry.’
‘Well, you said boys have stomachs like suitcases,’ I said, swallowing the last of my ice cream and chomping up the cone.
‘No, this boy looks like he’s starving.’
‘No he doesn’t. He’s quite chunky.’
‘Well, he’s not going to stay chunky eating rubbish out of bins,’ said Mum. ‘Do you think I should give him some money to go and get his own fish and chips?’
‘No! I don’t like the look of him,’ I said fiercely.
Maybe he heard me. He stopped eating, looked up and pulled a hideous face at me. Then he ran off behind the beach huts again.
‘See!’ I said.
‘Well, I’m not going chasing after him, but if we see him again I’ll have a little chat. He might be a runaway, fending for himself,’ said Mum.
She said it with such feeling that I stared at her. ‘Did you ever run away when you were a kid, Mum?’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Quite a lot.’
‘You stayed out all night?’
‘Well, sometimes I only got as far as the flipping bus stop before someone from the Dumping Ground came and carted me back. But I did do a runner once or twice when I was older. When I was living with Cam.’
‘You ran away from Cam?’ I said, looking at Mum as if she was mad. ‘But she’s the loveliest, kindest person in the whole world.’
‘I know. But I was all mixed up and angry then. Whenever we had a row I pushed off, just to show her. And then, when I was fifteen or so, I had this awful boyfriend and we ran off together. But he was horrible and I soon went running back to Cam.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ I gave her a quick hug, feeling so sad for her. But I couldn’t resist saying under my breath, ‘You always pick awful boyfriends.’
‘Tracy! Hey, Tracy!’ Right on cue, Sean Godfrey came swaggering down the promenade, Tyrone beside him.
Mum peered. There was no sign of Justine Littlewood. The campsite kids were all gawking at Sean Godfrey in his tight white T-shirt and tight jeans. So were the teenagers sitting on the wall and the families on the beach and the old folk in their deckchairs. They began to point, muttering his name. Two girls came running up, holding their phones, asking for selfies. Sean flashed his bright white teeth and started posing.
It was even worse than I’d remembered. I looked at Mum. She looked at me and then rolled her eyes comically.
‘I’d forgotten about the constant attention,’ she murmured. ‘And doesn’t he just love it!’
‘Let’s grab Tyrone and leave him to it,’ I said.
‘Good plan,’ said Mum, walking towards him.
Alfie suddenly gave several high-pitched excited barks as he spotted Sean Godfrey in the middle of the crowd. Sean had never made much of a fuss of him. He’d been furious when Alfie chewed a chair leg or did the tiniest little puddle. Once he’d even shut Alfie in the kitchen just because I’d been feeding him little morsels of steak from my plate. He’d never done more than pat him absent-mindedly – yet now Alfie was clearly desperate to see him.
‘Sorry, guys, I’m here to see my girl,’ said Sean Godfrey to the gathered crowd. He smiled for one more photo and then rushed up to us, holding his arms out to Mum.
She backed out of an embrace. ‘Hi, Sean. Ex-girl,’ she said.
Alfie jumped up into Sean Godfrey’s arms instead, licking him enthusiastically, trembling with joy.
‘Well, at least someone’s pleased to see me,’ said Sean Godfrey, making a fuss of Alfie while the crowd clucked and chuckled.
‘Hey, Alfie, remember me?’ Tyrone said, patting him too.
Alfie gave him a brief lick and then concentrated on Sean Godfrey, wagging his tail so hard it looked like he would whirl up through the air any second.
‘Alfie! Down boy!’ I said. ‘Down, I say!’
Alfie stayed up, loving Sean Godfrey to death. I turned my back on them.
‘Hi, Tyrone,’ I said, hoping he’d be pleased to see me as he’d made such a fuss about coming here.
‘Hi, Jess! We came in the Porsche and it simply flew! Everyone was staring!’ Tyrone’s face shone with happiness. He looked so different with his face smoothed out and smiling. He wore a football strip – Sean’s old team – and sensible shorts down past his knees. He had new trainers as well, navy with brilliant white soles.
‘You’re looking great,’ I said. liking his new gear.
I waited for him to say I was too. I’d got very tanned from all the sea air and I hoped I might have grown just a tiny bit.
‘Yeah, don’t I look great!’ Tyrone said proudly. ‘It’s all the new clobber Sean’s bought me. And get my six-pack!’ He sucked in his breath and patted his tummy. ‘We do really fierce workouts down the football club, but I can cope, easy-peasy. Sean says I’m one of the best. I am, aren’t I, Sean?’
‘Yep, you’re one of the best all right, Tiger,’ he agreed, giving him a nod and a wink over Alfie’s head.
‘Tiger’s my new nickname,’ Tyrone explained unnecessarily.
I looked at Mum. She looked at me. It was my turn to roll my eyes.
‘So how are you two girls?’ Sean Godfrey asked, putting Alfie down at last.
‘We’re just fine,’ said Mum.
‘We love it here,’ I said.
‘That’s good. I’m really pleased,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘Though of course I’d much sooner you were back with me. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve changed your mind, Tracy?’
‘It might get a bit crowded, sharing with Justine,’ said Mum.<
br />
‘Justine’s history,’ he told her. ‘I was never, ever serious about her, you know that.’
‘Well, it doesn’t really matter now,’ said Mum breezily. ‘You can have any girlfriends you fancy, it’s nothing to do with me. Anyway. Come on, Tyrone. We’ll have him back here around five. Is that OK, Sean?’
‘Can’t I come too?’ he asked.
‘No, we had a deal,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t start!’
‘OK, OK.’ He raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘I’ll be here at five. If you change your mind you know my new number now.’
‘I think I deleted it,’ said Mum airily. ‘But I won’t need it. Bye then. Come on, Jess. Come on, Tyrone.’
But Tyrone’s face crumpled. ‘Why can’t Sean come too?’ he asked.
‘Because Mum and Sean aren’t together any more, you know that,’ I said.
‘Yeah, but Sean still wants to be friends,’ said Tyrone. ‘He said we could all go for a ride in his car and then have fish and chips, all four of us.’
‘Five, counting Alfie!’ said Sean Godfrey, bending down and giving Alfie’s ears a rub. Alfie generally hates anyone doing that and snarls, but this time he went limp with pleasure. I was shocked to see how thoroughly he was betraying me.
‘We’re not having fish and chips. I know you have meals from the chippy nearly every day of your life, Tyrone. You’re having a proper home-cooked meal,’ said Mum.
‘I don’t think I like home cooking much, so Sean can have mine. Then there’ll still be enough to go round – one, two, three, four,’ said Tyrone, pointing at each of us.
I could see he was simply trying to help his hero, but Mum took it personally.
‘Look, I’ve spent hours preparing a proper meal for you this morning, you ungrateful little whatsit,’ she said. ‘One more word out of you and you can push off with Sean, and you two guys can fend for yourselves.’
Mum wasn’t exactly telling the truth. She had wanted to give Tyrone a proper meal – back on the Duke Estate he only ever ate takeaways from the chippy and the chicken shop and the kebab place. But she knew he wouldn’t want anything too fancy or elaborate, so she’d decided on sausage and mash and onion gravy. She’d prepared the gravy and I’d peeled the potatoes, while Flo had hulled some strawberries for pudding. The preparation had taken minutes, not hours.
‘It’s not four people anyway,’ I said. ‘It’s five.’
Sean Godfrey stared. ‘Five? So who else is coming?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Well, you’re not invited, so it’s none of your business,’ I said.
‘Jess! Don’t talk to Sean like that!’ said Mum.
I stared at her, wounded. I’d only been sticking up for her.
‘Who’s your other guest, Tracy?’ Sean Godfrey asked. ‘Have you taken up with someone else already?’
Mum put her hands on her hips and stuck her chin in the air. ‘So what if I have?’ she said. ‘Like Jess said, it’s none of your business.’
He was glaring. It looked like he’d start shouting at Mum any minute. I put my hands on my hips too. I wasn’t going to have him yelling at my mum, no matter what. Tyrone was staring at Mum, staring at Sean Godfrey, his head swivelling as if he was watching a tennis match. The crowd was staring too. Even the ice-cream man was leaning right out of the van window to see what was going on.
Sean Godfrey took a deep breath. His lips moved as if he was counting silently. ‘You’re right, ladies. It is none of my business. And I’m not a bit surprised you’ve got a new guy in your life, Tracy, a fantastic sparky girl like you. I hope he realizes how lucky he is.’
I think he was just playing to the crowd, pretending to be Mr Nicey-Nicey to get their approval. I hoped Mum would see this too and walk away. But she didn’t. She looked at Sean Godfrey in a silly soft way, as if she was an ice cream melting in the sun.
‘Thanks, Sean,’ she said. ‘Though actually Jess meant Flo, my business partner.’
‘A business partner? So you’ve got your own business? Already?’ This time he sounded genuine. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m in the antiques trade now,’ said Mum proudly.
‘Mum!’ There were only two other antique-type shops in Cooksea. It would be easy enough to find out which one was ours. But then Mum blew it anyway. ‘Oh, come on then. I’ll show you,’ she said.
And that was that. I couldn’t believe she’d rolled over like that. What was the matter with her? She was suddenly smiling up at Sean Godfrey like a member of his fan club. He was smiling back at her. Alfie was fawning round his feet. Tyrone was grinning from ear to ear. I was the only one glaring as we made our way up the road.
‘There it is, Sean,’ Mum said proudly as we turned the corner. ‘See the shop over the road?’
‘The Dumping Ground,’ he read out. ‘Isn’t that what you used to call the children’s home? So this business partner of yours let you change the name?’
‘She’d called it that already! Isn’t it an amazing coincidence? It was as if it was meant to be,’ said Mum.
‘Like the day you breezed into my gym and asked for kick-boxing lessons,’ he muttered.
If I heard him I’m sure Mum did too, but she didn’t react. There was a man looking intently in one of the shop windows.
‘We’re doing really well too,’ said Mum. ‘Look, there’s an eager customer if ever I saw one. Something’s taken his fancy.’
Then the man moved slightly, so that the sunlight shone full on him. He was fair and slender, wearing a patterned shirt and jeans. I suddenly realized who it was.
‘Hey, Mum, isn’t it Peter, the one who shared his birthday cake with you?’ I said.
‘Yes, it is!’ said Mum. She quickened her pace. ‘Hey, Peter,’ she called.
He turned, saw her and waved, his face lighting up.
Sean Godfrey looked at me. ‘Who’s this Peter chap then?’ he asked. ‘Your mum looks pretty pleased to see him!’
‘Well, she is!’ I said. ‘He’s an old friend from way back, when they were both children.’
‘That’s me, silly!’ he said.
‘No, she knew Peter before, when they were in the children’s home. He’s a head teacher now,’ I said, hoping to impress him.
‘Never!’ Sean Godfrey pulled a face. ‘He’s a friend of Tracy’s? She can’t stand teachers.’
‘Well, she thinks the world of Peter and he thinks the world of her,’ I said, exaggerating for all I was worth.
He sniffed incredulously. Tyrone sniffed too. ‘You can tell he doesn’t work out,’ he said.
‘So what?’ I said, irritated.
Peter was chatting eagerly to Mum and she was nodding, her head on one side. Sean Godfrey hurried closer. So did I.
‘Well, I’m really glad you came to see the shop at last,’ said Mum.
‘Who’s this then, Tracy?’ said Sean Godfrey, as if he actually owned her.
‘This is Peter, Sean – an old friend,’ said Mum. ‘Peter, this is Sean. He’s – well, I suppose he’s an old friend too.’
‘How do you do, mate?’ said Sean Godfrey, holding out his hand. I knew his handshake would be crushing.
‘Oh! Hello!’ said Peter. He suddenly seemed half Sean Godfrey’s size. ‘Well, I’d better be going. Good to see you, Tracy.’
‘Don’t go, Peter! Come in and have a coffee,’ said Mum.
‘Perhaps another time,’ he said, and scurried off, giving Tyrone and me a quick nod.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Mum, looking disappointed. ‘I wanted to show off my shop.’
‘Show it off to me, Trace,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘Hey, I like the window displays!’
In one of the windows Mum had sprinkled sand everywhere and then laid a tartan picnic blanket on top. She’d set out a blue jug and lemonade glasses and a plate with little iced cakes, pink and white and yellow. There were several battered teddies wearing sunhats and swimming costumes gathered round. In the other window there was a toy dog on wheels wearing a sombrero.
The little doll’s tea set had a pink or yellow or blue Smartie on each plate, with our collection of china dogs and my blue bunny staring at them hungrily. The white Pekinese and the tiny Chihuahua each had a paper parasol, the kind you get in fancy cocktails.
‘You’ve always had a way of arranging all your little knick-knacks,’ said Sean Godfrey. ‘It looks great, Tracy.’
When we’d moved in with him he was always moaning about our ornaments, making us keep most of them in a cupboard: he couldn’t stand silly little bits and pieces cluttering the place. Tyrone didn’t look as if he thought much of them either.
‘Are they your toys, Jess?’ he asked, wrinkling his nose.
‘As if!’ I said. ‘They’re stock. I don’t play with toys.’
I was glad Woofer was upstairs in the bedroom, unable to hear.
‘Come in and meet Flo,’ said Mum, opening the shop door. The bell gave a little ring.
‘Seconds out!’ said Sean Godfrey. He was even more irritating than I remembered.
Tyrone cackled with laughter. ‘Me and Sean do boxing together now,’ he said. ‘I’m getting good at it so you’d better watch out, Jess. If you disrespect me I could bloody your nose, easy-peasy.’
‘I seem to remember that I bloodied your nose once,’ I said haughtily.
‘Don’t you go all stuck up on me, Jess Beaker,’ said Tyrone, giving me a little push.
‘Well, don’t you go throwing your weight around,’ I said, giving him a dig with my elbow. My arms are like sticks, but luckily my elbows are very sharp.
‘Uh-oh! Lovers’ tiff already!’ said Flo, lounging on her sofa and laughing at us. ‘Hello, big boy. I’m Flo and you must be Tyrone. And, hey, even bigger boy! You’re the famous footballer! Sean Godfrey, I do believe! Tracy’s told me all about you.’
‘I’ll bet she has,’ he said, leaning over to shake her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Flo.’
‘Ooh, that’s a bone crusher of a handshake! Good job I’ve left off my diamond rings – they’d be embedded in my fingers by now! So what are you doing here, then? I thought you were just bringing his lordship and then pushing off elsewhere?’
We Are the Beaker Girls Page 4