I washed out our hot-chocolate mugs and made coffee. I crept upstairs to see if Jordan wanted one, but she was fast asleep, snoring a little. She was holding something to her cheek. I peered – and realized that it was Woofer. I tiptoed away, shaking my head.
When I got downstairs and handed out the coffees, I found Mum and Peter in deep discussion about Faraday Primary.
‘Is it a really ropy school?’ Mum asked.
‘Well, it used to be – but now they’ve got a new head and he’s already making a huge difference,’ said Peter.
‘Mr Harper,’ I said. ‘I like him.’
‘Me too,’ said Peter. ‘Faraday is one of our feeder schools so I’ve got to know him quite well this past year.’
‘So does this mean you could be Jess’s head teacher when she goes to secondary school?’ Mum said, giggling. ‘Good Lord!’
‘Well, let’s hope Jess doesn’t take after her mum too much,’ said Peter, smiling.
‘Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Cheeking the teachers, never sitting still, telling fibs, writing your own funny stories instead of sticking to the subject, fighting in the playground—’ Peter chanted.
‘OK, OK! But I’ve changed now, haven’t I, Jess?’
‘Well …’ I floundered. ‘Tell you what, you’re dead studious now, Mum.’
‘Yes, she’s always got her head in those blooming great library books,’ said Flo.
‘I’m learning my trade,’ said Mum. ‘It’s actually quite interesting, finding out what all the little marks and squiggles mean, and the history of everything.’
‘And we all watch Antiques Roadshow and Celebrity Bargain Hunt and Any Old Junk,’ said Flo. ‘Plus we have our specialities. Tracy’s great on china and furniture and toys. I’ve got an eye for jewellery and clothes.’ She rattled her amber necklaces and rearranged her Spanish shawl. ‘And young Jess here is our literary specialist, aren’t you, sweetheart? Always got her head in a book, that one.’
‘Then you make a magnificent team,’ said Peter. ‘And I love the way everything’s displayed!’
‘That’s the fun bit.’ Mum put her head on one side. ‘Are there any fun bits about being a head teacher, Peter?’
‘Ha! Well, sometimes. The kids can crack you up, the funny things they come out with. And I’ve got a fantastic bunch of staff. We socialize quite a lot,’ he said. ‘You saw us at the Spade and Bucket on my birthday, remember?’
‘My birthday!’ Mum corrected him. ‘But do you actually enjoy the work work? Striding about the school bossing everyone around?’
‘Oh, come off it, Tracy. You know me. I’m definitely not a bossy kind of guy. I suppose I’m more the quiet but persuasive type. I find the paperwork a bit of a trial, but I love running the school, dealing with the kids.’
‘Even the naughty ones like me?’
‘They’re my speciality. I had all that experience growing up with you! So what about you, Tracy? Have you always been in the antiques trade?’
‘I’ve only just started, but this is my dream career, Pete. I’ve messed around doing all kinds of jobs – I ran a wine bar, worked in a car showroom, did a bit of nannying—’
‘Mum was a dog walker once – that was the best!’ I added.
‘She was even a WAG, and that’s a job and a half!’ said Flo.
Peter looked blank.
‘Wives and Girlfriends,’ I explained, pulling a face. ‘Footballers have them.’
‘I wasn’t a wife but I was a girlfriend for a while,’ said Mum. ‘Still, that’s all in the past now.’
‘Thank goodness,’ I said.
‘Was this footballer the guy I saw you with – the big chap with the shoulders and the swagger?’ asked Peter.
‘That’s him,’ said Mum. ‘He’s got a new girlfriend now. You’ll never guess who! Justine Littlewood!’
And at that exact moment Justine Littlewood walked in the door, as if Mum had conjured her out of thin air! She marched in, slamming the door behind her so violently that all the china jingled. She wore a shiny black mac and shiny black high-heeled boots, and her hair shone in the light of the chandelier.
wShe pointed at Mum, her long fingernail gleaming like a stiletto. ‘I want a word with you, Tracy Beaker!’ she said.
‘Oh my, it’s the Wicked Witch of the West!’ Flo gasped.
‘Well said, Flo,’ said Mum.
‘Good Lord, it is Justine!’ said Peter. ‘Hello there!’
Justine glanced at him witheringly. ‘Do I know you?’ she asked.
‘Of course you do, Justine. Don’t you recognize him?’ said Mum. ‘Think back to our childhood.’
Justine gave Peter a proper look. Then she folded her arms and shook her head in disbelief. ‘Peter Ingham!’
‘How do you do,’ he said, standing up and offering her his hand in an authoritative head-teacherly way that took her by surprise.
‘Well, you’ve certainly changed!’ she said. ‘Last thing I remember you were wetting the bed and bursting into tears, Weedy Peter.’
I gasped at her cruelty, but Peter didn’t seem thrown.
‘Oh, the golden days of our childhood in care,’ he said calmly. ‘But here we all are, happy and successful – here’s to us!’ He raised his coffee mug.
Mum laughed and raised hers too.
‘It’s all right for you, Tracy Beaker,’ said Justine. ‘Yes, laugh your silly head off at me, make it worse. You couldn’t be content, could you? You walked out on my Sean, turned your back on him, and now, out of sheer spite, you’ve decided to lure him back.’
‘No she hasn’t!’ I cried, but my tummy turned over. Mum couldn’t go back on her word, could she? Oh please please please, I prayed, don’t let her go back to Sean Godfrey.
‘It’s all right, Jess,’ Mum said quietly, coming and putting her arm round me. ‘Don’t take any notice of her. She’s talking nonsense.’
‘I’m the one talking nonsense, am I?’ said Justine.
‘Yes, you are. And you’re upsetting my daughter and embarrassing my friends.’
The shop bell pinged again and a trio of elderly ladies in flimsy rain capes came into the shop, shaking their umbrellas, seeking shelter from the rain.
‘Well, you should have thought of the consequences, you jealous cow!’ Justine said. ‘You couldn’t bear it when Sean chose me over you! You’ve done your damnedest to get him back again – and I bet you don’t even want him. You just want to take him away because you can’t bear seeing me happy. You have to spoil everything. You haven’t changed since we were kids and you deliberately broke my Mickey Mouse alarm clock, the one my dad gave me!’
The three old ladies stood there, dripping, their mouths open. It was as if they’d walked straight into a soap opera.
Flo heaved herself up from her sofa. ‘I know this is riveting, ladies, but I’m afraid this is a private show. I’m shutting the shop just now – but please come back another day,’ she said politely, stumping over to the door and opening it.
They filed out reluctantly, heads turned, desperate to see what happened next.
‘Now then,’ said Flo, shutting the door behind them and hanging the SO SORRY, WE ARE CLOSED sign on the glass. ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I gather you are Miss Justine Littlewood. I am Miss Florence Garland, Tracy’s business partner.’
Justine sniffed scornfully. ‘Call this old junk shop a business?’
Mum sprang across the room. ‘Don’t you dare be rude to my friend! And yes, it is a business, a very successful one, and for all the problems faced by independent shops nowadays we’re actually making a big profit,’ she said. ‘I believe your so-called beauty-product business went bust.’
‘That wasn’t my fault! I couldn’t travel because my dad started to get ill and couldn’t cope without me,’ Justine explained.
‘Well, you’ve travelled all the way here, haven’t you – and you can travel all the way back, pronto, because this is a totally wasted mi
ssion. I’m not trying to get Sean back. I’ve told him straight. So off you go, back to Daddy,’ said Mum.
‘You shut your mouth, Tracy Beaker. You’re a liar and you know it. And don’t you dare talk about my dad,’ said Justine. Then her face screwed up. ‘He’s so ill he doesn’t even recognize me now.’ Tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away fiercely, smearing her make-up and leaving black smudges under her eyes.
There was silence as we all stared at her.
I swallowed. ‘Would you like a coffee, Justine?’ I asked timidly.
‘As if a coffee is going to help, you silly little kid,’ she sniffed.
‘Don’t start picking on Jess. She’s only trying to be kind,’ said Mum.
‘Oh yes, Mummy’s little helper,’ said Justine. ‘You’ve got it all, haven’t you, Tracy? Your happy new life and your sweet little girl, and my Sean texting you constantly, rushing down to see you every five minutes, and sending you flowers and chocolates.’
‘What? He sent flowers once – to Flo and Jess as well as me. He hasn’t sent any more since then. He did text for a bit but he’s stopped now. He doesn’t come here every five minutes. He came just the once, and that was because he’s taken that weird kid Tyrone under his wing and he was desperate to come and see Jess,’ said Mum.
‘And he’s never sent any chocolates,’ I said.
‘More’s the pity,’ said Flo. ‘Chocolates are my little weakness – as you can see,’ she added, patting her very big tummy.
‘You can all stop the little comedy act,’ Justine said furiously, still crying. ‘I’m not a fool! I’ve seen the florist’s bill on his bank statement. And one of your texts pinged in just this morning. He left his phone behind while he was at the gym. Last night was wonderful – you’re a guy in a million!!!’
‘What? Are you crazy? You’re making it up. I never sent that!’ said Mum. ‘A guy in a million with three exclamation marks? Really?’
‘Of course you never sent it, Tracy. But of course you read the text, Justine,’ said Peter. ‘You’re both bright women. Can’t you see? This Sean is involved with someone else now.’
‘What do you know about it, wimp?’ said Justine, but she started crying in earnest now.
Peter put his arm round her and sat her down on one of the armchairs. ‘How about making that coffee now, Jess?’ he said, offering Justine several folded tissues from his pocket.
‘Oh, Pete! The only guy alive who has a clean tissue at the ready!’ said Mum.
‘It’s my stock in trade,’ he said. ‘All head teachers carry them. I’ve lost count of the number I’ve needed to hand over – to kids, to parents, to my staff.’
‘You’re a head teacher!’ said Justine, and she snorted with laughter in the midst of her sobs.
I rushed out to the kitchen to make more coffee for Mum and Flo and Peter, and a new cup for Justine. It didn’t seem quite the moment to ask if she liked milk and sugar.
When I came back Justine was still sniffing, but she’d recovered enough to peer into her powder compact and wipe away the panda rings. Alfie was standing anxiously beside her, trying to give her face an earnest lick. Justine tried batting him away but he became even more attentive. He licked her shiny black mac as if she was a giant stick of liquorice.
‘Alfie! Stop it, you daft boy,’ said Mum. She came and perched on the arm of Justine’s chair. ‘So your dad doesn’t recognize you any more?’ she asked softly.
‘No!’ said Justine. ‘When I visit him at the care home he thinks I’m just a member of staff. He begs me to get in touch with his daughter – he wonders why she’s stopped visiting him! And I keep telling him that I’m Justine, but I can’t get him to believe me and it’s so upsetting. It’s not his fault – he’s got dementia. He’ll never get better.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mum. ‘I know how much he meant to you. Remember when we used to hang out by the window on Saturdays, you watching out for your dad and me looking for my mum. At least your dad generally turned up.’
‘Do you see your mum now?’ Justine asked.
‘Once in a blue moon. She came running when Jess and I moved in with Sean, but I haven’t seen her since,’ said Mum. ‘Justine, it’s really and truly all over with him, I promise you. I’m not in touch with him in any way. I certainly don’t have any feelings for him any more.’
‘I drove down here to find you the minute I saw that text. I was going to have it out with you once and for all,’ said Justine. ‘I still don’t know whether you’re telling the truth or not.’
‘She is, I swear it,’ I said as I handed her a coffee – but even I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure Mum wasn’t telling a tiny fib.
‘Why wouldn’t you want Sean back?’ Justine asked.
‘Because …’ said Mum, searching for words.
Because he’s a lying, cheating pig who swaggers about and shows off! I said inside my head, trying to will Mum to say something similar.
‘Because – because I’m involved with someone else,’ said Mum.
We all stared at her.
Justine was looking at me. She must have seen my astonishment. ‘If so, it’s clearly news to Jess,’ she said. ‘You’re just making it up! You’re acting all nicey-nicey but secretly you’re laughing at me.’
‘I’ve kept it a secret because I know Jess has problems with my relationships. I was waiting until the time was right. It’s hardly that now, but here goes. I’m in love with …’ Mum paused.
‘It’s never Bill!’ said Flo. ‘You said he had a long-term lady friend.’
‘No, not Bill. It’s …’ I saw Mum’s eyes flicking to and fro. She was certainly fibbing now, trying to conjure up someone convincing.
‘It’s me!’ said Peter.
‘What?’ said Justine.
‘What?’ said Flo.
‘What?’ I echoed. ‘You and Mum?’
‘Yes, Jess. I do hope you don’t mind too much,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when we met in the pub on our joint birthday! I’ve thought about her so often, wondering what she was doing. I’ve been crazy about her ever since we were in the children’s home. And I’m still crazy about her now. We’ve been secretly seeing each other.’
He looked so sweetly serious I had to believe it – and yet it didn’t make sense. How could he have been secretly seeing Mum when I was nearly always with her?
‘Oh my goodness, you dark horse, Tracy Beaker!’ said Flo, clapping her hands, clearly convinced.
I stared hard at Mum.
‘I’m sorry I kept quiet about it, Jess,’ she said. ‘Will you forgive me?’
‘Well, I suppose so,’ I said, bewildered.
‘Bless you, darling,’ Mum said, giving me a kiss. Then she went over to Peter and gave him a kiss too.
‘Oh my God!’ said Justine. ‘You and Weedy Peter!’
‘If you call him that one more time I’ll stop being Ms Nicey-Nicey, I’m warning you,’ said Mum.
‘Not so weedy now,’ said Peter, flexing his arm and showing off a sizeable muscle. ‘Otherwise all that swimming and badminton have been totally wasted!’
‘Well, you’ve certainly changed.’ Justine shook her head. ‘I still can’t believe it!’ Yet as she looked at Mum, and then at Peter, I could see that she believed it.
I believed it too, though I didn’t see how it was possible. Mum and Peter somehow looked so right together, side by side. They really did look like a proper couple – and Mum had never, ever looked completely right with Sean Godfrey.
Justine sighed. ‘I’ve come all this way to have it out with you, Tracy – and now there’s no point. Do you really think he’s seeing some completely new girl?’
‘Probably. I don’t know. But it won’t necessarily be serious. He was clearly really keen on you, Justine,’ said Mum.
‘Maybe. At first. But when you cleared off he went to pieces,’ said Justine. ‘I still think it’s you he really loves.’
‘No he doesn’t. He just ha
ted me leaving. If I went back to him he’d soon be playing around with someone else. He can’t help it. He doesn’t feel good about himself unless he’s got new girls falling at his feet. Do you really want to hang around and get hurt?’ asked Mum.
‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ said Justine.
‘You could have anyone, a stunning-looking girl like you,’ said Flo. ‘I’d give anything to be young enough to wear that shiny mac and those amazing boots! Talk about the Killer Queen look!’
Justine smiled wanly. She blew her nose and then looked at herself in her powder compact again. ‘Oh God, I look such a mess! Have you got a proper mirror?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ said Mum, and pointed up the stairs. ‘The bedroom’s on the right.’
‘Jordan’s in there, Mum!’ I reminded her.
I wasn’t quite quick enough. Justine was already halfway up the stairs.
‘Oh Lord, I forgot. Oh well, she’ll still be sound asleep.’ Mum looked at Peter. ‘You were incredible, butting in like that, sounding so convincing! You’re such a sweetheart – it was about the only way I could get her to believe that I don’t want Sean back.’
‘And you really don’t?’ Peter asked.
‘No! Never. Not in a million years,’ said Mum.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Flo. ‘So you two were just acting for Justine’s benefit?’
‘Of course we were,’ said Mum.
‘Well—’ said Peter.
‘Oh my stars, you certainly had us convinced – didn’t they, Jess?’ said Flo. ‘I’ve seen more acting in my time than you’ve had hot dinners, but I’ve never seen such a genuine performance. There seemed to be a real connection – total Romeo and Juliet time! I was already imagining hobbling up the aisle on my Zimmer frame, the oldest matron of honour in the world. Were you wondering what colour your bridesmaid’s dress was going to be, Jess?’
We Are the Beaker Girls Page 15