We Are the Beaker Girls

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I’ve only got a little back yard,’ said Flo. ‘Though Jess has plans to turn it into a garden, haven’t you, pet?’

  ‘Are you saying I can’t have a dog then?’ said Jordan.

  ‘Perhaps a small one. A little rescue dog from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. But we’ll have to make sure it gets on with Alfie,’ said Mum.

  ‘Perhaps! That’s another might and maybe word,’ said Jordan, but she was smiling. ‘Hey, I’m a rescue girl and I have to have the right environment to thrive otherwise I cause havoc. I’d be as good as gold if I could live here with you guys.’

  ‘That’s it, kid. You tell them,’ said Justine. ‘Well, I’m off.’

  ‘Stay for lunch,’ Mum said surprisingly.

  ‘Thanks, but I need to get home.’

  ‘Sean’s home?’ asked Mum.

  ‘It’s my home now,’ said Justine.

  ‘Well, I think you’re mad,’ said Mum – and she suddenly got to her feet and rushed towards her.

  Justine took a step backwards in alarm, but Mum simply threw her arms round her and gave her a big hug. Justine teetered in her high-heeled boots, but then gave Mum a wary pat on the back.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Mum.

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said Justine. ‘I suppose this was a bit of a wasted journey, eh?’

  ‘No it wasn’t. I know we’ve always been worst enemies – but maybe it’s time to be friends. We’re kind of family, you and me and Peter. I bet old Elaine the Pain would be proud if she could see us all now,’ said Mum. ‘Keep in touch, Justine.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘See you, Tracy. Bye, mini Tracy. Bye, Flo. Bye, Jordan – I hope everything works out for you.’ Then she fist-bumped Peter. ‘Bye, you! I still can’t get over it – you and Tracy!’ She stalked out of the shop, waving her hand in the air.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Jordan. ‘Isn’t her bloke playing around with someone else?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s decided she doesn’t care. Just so long as it isn’t me,’ said Mum. ‘I used to live with Sean Godfrey, her boyfriend. I was engaged to him, actually. And then she came along and—Well, it’s history now.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Is this the Sean Godfrey you’re talking about? Sean Godfrey the famous footballer?’ asked Jordan. ‘The really hot one?’

  Mum pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘I would,’ said Flo.

  ‘And you’d sooner have him for a boyfriend?’ Jordan asked with supreme lack of tact, nodding at Peter.

  Luckily Peter smiled. ‘Yes – weird, isn’t it,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Pete, you were so brilliant!’ said Mum. ‘We really convinced her, didn’t we? You were so clever, making out we were madly in love!’

  ‘But you’re not, are you?’ I asked, feeling dizzy. I couldn’t keep track of what was true.

  ‘No, darling – I said, we were just pretending. Of course Peter and I aren’t an item. Peter’s gay, you know that,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said, remembering him hugging the young guy at the library.

  ‘What makes you think I’m gay?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t sure at first, but then Jess and I saw you with your friend after we’d had coffee together,’ said Mum.

  Peter looked puzzled – and then he laughed. ‘That was Pat! I tutored him last year and he got a place at Cambridge. He loves it there. He wanted to tell me all about it. He’s all hugs and happiness at the moment, bless him.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Mum.

  ‘I wasn’t acting, Tracy. You know I’ve been madly in love with you ever since I was a little kid.’ Peter was trying to say it in a casual, throwaway manner, but he went very red.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ said Mum uncertainly.

  ‘I’m not the joking sort, you know that. Deadly serious, that’s me,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes when we met up on our birthday. And then we kept bumping into each other!’

  ‘But why didn’t you say anything? You could have asked me out!’

  ‘I was sure you’d say no. You’ve always made it very plain what you think of me!’

  ‘Well, you happen to be wrong this time, Mr Know-it-all Head Teacher. I was actually pretty thrilled to see you. Maybe if you were to ask me out, then I might say yes,’ said Mum.

  ‘Maybe! Might! Ask her out then!’ said Jordan.

  ‘Would you like to go out with me sometime, Tracy?’ Peter asked obediently.

  ‘Not sometime! Ask her out now!’

  ‘OK. Will you come out with me right now, Tracy Beaker?’

  We all stared at Mum. She went very pink too! I’d never seen her look embarrassed before. But she nodded.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘Just let me make a quick phone call first.’

  MUM WENT RIGHT outside the shop to have a private phone conversation with Cam. Peering through the shop window, we saw her pacing up and down, talking and talking. It was a very long phone call.

  ‘It’s not going to work, is it?’ said Jordan, heaving a huge sigh and standing up.

  ‘You wait. You don’t know my mum,’ I told her.

  ‘Where’s the washing machine? I’m going to see if my clothes are ready,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no you don’t! You’re not doing a runner. And they’ll still be soaking wet – we don’t have a dryer,’ said Flo.

  ‘You’ve got to wait to see what Mum says anyway.’ I patted the sleeve of the voluminous nightgown. ‘Patience!’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t have any, do I?’ said Jordan. ‘At school they said I was ADHD.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘She can’t sit still and concentrate,’ said Peter.

  ‘Ants in my pants, that’s what my last foster mum said,’ said Jordan.

  ‘We’re going to need her name and details. And your social worker’s, of course. And there’ll have to be a conference. Maybe several.’ Peter sighed too.

  ‘How come you’re getting involved?’ said Jordan. ‘You don’t even know me.’

  ‘I know your situation. I’m a head teacher. I know the routine. And I know Tracy. We’re old friends.’

  ‘And now you’re going to be my mum’s boyfriend!’ I said.

  ‘Maybe. Though she might change her mind.’

  ‘Might and maybe again,’ said Jordan. ‘You’re nuts. You’re obviously mad about her and she likes you, so what’s the problem?’

  ‘Tracy’s going to get fed up if you dither around,’ said Flo.

  ‘Yep, you’re right. Thanks for the advice, ladies,’ said Peter. He looked at me. ‘How do you feel about me and your mum, Jess? Does it seem a bit weird?’

  ‘It felt a whole lot weirder when she was seeing Sean Godfrey,’ I told him.

  He was looking at me earnestly, as if it really mattered to him what I thought.

  ‘Actually, it’s weird in a nice way,’ I said. ‘You’re much nicer than any of Mum’s other boyfriends. It just feels odd that you’re actually that little boy from her children’s home. She often talked about you, even before we met you again.’

  ‘Yes, and I bet I know the sort of things she said,’ Peter replied. ‘I bet the word weedy cropped up a lot.’

  ‘You’re not a bit weedy now,’ I said. ‘It’s only a silly nickname. I used to get called all sorts at my old school.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Jordan. ‘Though I used to slap them.’

  ‘That’s not a great way to deal with it,’ said Peter.

  ‘You’re right – I ended up being excluded, even though it wasn’t my fault. Well, not always,’ said Jordan. ‘But don’t tell Tracy or she’ll think I’m too much of a handful.’

  ‘I think she’s probably guessed that,’ said Peter. ‘And I know for a fact that Tracy was a huge handful herself when she was young.’

  ‘Was she really, really bad?’ I asked, fascinated.

  ‘Come on, tell us,’ said Flo, leaning forward eagerly.

  ‘Well, there was the time she set the classroom gerbils free �
�� and the time she pretended to be a ghost – and the time she tried to make chips in the middle of the night and set off the smoke alarm – and the time she inked tattoos all over her arms and legs when the inspectors were coming – and the time she kicked her social worker on the shin – and then of course there were the endless times she got into fist fights with Justine …’

  ‘Seriously?’ I gasped, round-eyed.

  ‘Oops!’ said Flo, chuckling.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Jordan. ‘They’re just little-kid pranks.’

  ‘She was a little kid at the time. She was a lot worse when she got older,’ said Peter. ‘She was really pretty awesomely terrible when she was ten or eleven – and then she got fostered by Cam. We were so envious. We all loved Cam. She came to the home to do an article about us for some magazine – and then she kept on coming and made a fuss of us.’

  ‘But she liked my mum best,’ I said proudly.

  ‘Well, your mum pestered her most!’ said Peter, but I think he was joking. He peered out of the window at her. She was still talking on the phone. ‘It looks as if she’s still pestering her.’

  But at last Mum came back indoors, and she was smiling.

  ‘Has she said she’ll take Jordan?’ I asked eagerly.

  ‘Well, not exactly. She wavered for ages, but I think it helps that your local authority will know her. I could hear Mary going on at her in the background. She thinks we should get you checked out by a doctor, and then call your social worker, and then there’ll have to be endless checks and discussions. She has to do things the boring proper way. Typical teacher!’

  ‘She’s right, Tracy,’ Peter told her.

  ‘Oh. Sorry. I forgot you’re one too. But that way Jordan will be whisked off to this place in Manchester and we’ll never get her out. I think we should check Jordan’s OK health-wise, and then drive her straight up to Cam’s. She says she’s willing to have her as an emergency placement, if the local authority approves it – she’ll see how things pan out. We’ll tell the social worker and I don’t see how she can possibly object: it’ll be much cheaper if Jordan’s with Cam, and she’s the star of the care system because she’s so good with her girls,’ Mum said breathlessly.

  ‘Yeah, well, I bet I’ll be her first failure,’ said Jordan. ‘I still don’t see why I can’t stay here with you.’

  ‘I’m not an approved foster carer. Yet. But I said I’d think about it seriously. And you’ve got to do some serious thinking too, Jordan. If you do a runner again, then they really will put you in some kind of secure care home.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard about them – all the rules and regulations and being locked up at night.’

  ‘Well, if you end up here in a few months’ time, you’ll find we’ve got rules and regulations too, missy,’ said Mum. ‘And I’ll certainly lock you up if you try staying out at night. And likely handcuff you and put you in leg irons.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ said Jordan. ‘I know you’re joking.’

  Mum folded her arms and looked at me, eyebrows raised. ‘Tell her, Jess!’

  ‘She’s joking about the handcuff stuff. But she is very strict,’ I said.

  ‘And I’m an old tartar too,’ said Flo. ‘See this walking stick? Give me any cheek and I’ll whack you on the bum.’

  Jordan laughed uncertainly. ‘Not sure I want to come here after all,’ she said, but she was joking too.

  ‘So, it’s all settled then,’ said Mum. ‘I suppose I’d better rustle up a late lunch and then we’ll hit the road.’

  ‘If you don’t mind keeping the shop shut, come out for lunch at the Spade and Bucket,’ said Peter, ‘seeing as we’ve got something to celebrate.’

  ‘This chap is growing on me,’ said Flo.

  Mum rescued Jordan’s clothes from the washing machine and, taking Alfie for company, I ran off through the rain to the old launderette to give them a spin in the big tumble dryer. I usually had a book with me when I was being the laundrymaid, but this time I simply sat there, my thoughts spinning around my head as rapidly as the wet washing in the dryer.

  So much had happened in just one morning! It was hard to take it all in. I’d been bold and rescued Jordan! Mum might foster her! She’d also made friends with Justine Littlewood! And she wanted to go out with Peter Ingham! All these astonishing statements lit up before my eyes like neon signs.

  ‘What do you think about everything, Alfie?’ I asked.

  He wagged his tail enthusiastically.

  ‘Do you think it will all work out OK?’

  He butted my knees and then laid his head lovingly on my lap. He seemed to be telling me that of course it would.

  When we got back to the shop, the same three old ladies were clustered outside the door, frowning at the CLOSED sign.

  ‘They’re still inside, I can see them!’ said one.

  ‘I wonder what they’re up to now,’ said another.

  ‘They’re meant to be open! Call themselves shopkeepers! We want to come in out of the rain!’ said the third.

  I sidled past them and tapped on the door.

  ‘Ah, are you opening up now?’ asked the first old lady.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. We’re going out for lunch. But there’s a warm launderette just up the road if you want to be in the dry,’ I said politely as Mum let me in.

  Jordan looked a lot better when she put her clean dry clothes on. She wanted to wear the baseball cap too, but now that it had been washed the peak hung down limply, flapping on her forehead, so she threw it off in disgust. I lent her my brush so she could sort her tangled hair.

  ‘I should have chopped it all off,’ she said impatiently.

  ‘Then you’d have been bonkers. Your hair’s lovely,’ I said. ‘I’d swap you any day.’

  ‘Here, look in the mirror!’ Jordan stood above me and let her hair flop around my face.

  ‘I look so different!’ I said.

  ‘I wish I looked different. Still, I don’t suppose it matters if I’m recognized now, seeing as I’ve been caught.’

  I didn’t like to tell her that no one seemed to realize she was missing. It must be awful, no one bothering whether you were there or not.

  ‘You belong to us now,’ I said suddenly.

  I glanced up at her face in the mirror. She looked as if she was going to cry, but I think she was happy rather than sad.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘Course I am,’ she said, sniffing.

  Her trainers were still sopping wet. My shoes were obviously much too small. Mum’s too. So Jordan had to wear Flo’s flowery wellies to the pub, though she protested bitterly.

  ‘I look a right berk in these,’ she complained.

  ‘There’s gratitude!’ said Flo, giving her a nudge. ‘You mind your manners, young lady, or I’ll slosh a bit of disinfectant in all your murky corners!’

  Jordan burst out laughing. She had a funny laugh, more like a cackle. Just hearing it made you smile. ‘I loved it when you said that on the telly.’

  ‘In my glorious soap-opera days! Tell you what, my whole life’s turned into a blooming soap opera since Tracy and Jess came to live with me!’

  ‘Sorry, Flo! I suppose things have been a bit hectic, especially today,’ said Mum.

  ‘Don’t apologize, darling, I’m absolutely loving it,’ said Flo. ‘I don’t want to miss any juicy developments while you’re down the pub!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Mum. ‘You’re coming too. We’ll take the van again.’

  ‘You don’t want all that hassle – it’s a bore for everyone. You lot toddle off down the road and have your lunch. You can bring me back a bottle of beer and a bag of crisps.’

  ‘As if!’ said Mum. ‘You’re part of the family.’

  ‘Is Flo really part of your family, like an old aunty or something?’ Jordan whispered to me.

  ‘Well, she seems like one now, but she’s just a lady we started living with,’ I explained.

  Jordan thought about it. ‘So it�
��s like she’s fostering both of you?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘And you’re all proper family now,’ said Jordan. ‘So I could be too, couldn’t I?’

  ‘It seems like you already are,’ I told her.

  When we went to have lunch at the Spade and Bucket, we really did seem like one big family – Mum and Peter and Flo and Jordan and Alfie and me. Mum and I had spaghetti bolognese, because that’s what we’d had the very first time we went there on our first day in Cooksea. Peter had sausage and mash and onion gravy. Flo had fish and chips and mushy peas. Jordan had burger and chips. And Alfie had a whole sausage and couldn’t believe his luck. Peter immediately became his favourite – after me, of course.

  Then we drove back to the shop and opened up at last.

  ‘Can I leave you in charge, Flo, if I drive Jordan up to Cam’s?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Course you can, darling,’ she said.

  ‘Jess will help you, won’t you, baby?’

  ‘Oh! Can’t I come to Cam’s too?’ I pleaded.

  ‘Yes, she’s got to come with me!’ said Jordan. ‘I won’t get so fussed if Jess is there.’

  ‘I’d quite like to come as well, if you don’t mind my barging in. I’m used to dealing with social workers,’ said Peter. ‘We could take my car so the girls don’t have to rattle around in the back of the van.’

  So we ended up with Peter driving us in his Volvo, Mum in the front with him, and Jordan and me in the back. Alfie curled up on my lap and went to sleep. At first I showed Jordan my favourite places and she asked all sorts of questions, loving the hills and fields and meadows, but when we reached the main road to London she grew quiet, and soon she wasn’t saying anything at all, just staring straight ahead, twiddling a lock of her hair.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Do you feel sick? Shall I get Peter to stop?’

  Jordan shook her head. ‘I’m OK,’ she said, though she clearly wasn’t.