White Petals

by Maria Grace

  Karra switched the lamp off again for us to go to sleep.

  ‘Do you miss your family?’ I whispered in the dark. I thought of Mum, Grandma Coalman and Freya.

  ‘Not much to miss, really. Do you miss yours?’ she whispered back.

  I nodded my head, not able to speak for a second. I think Karra sensed my answer.

  ‘You can cry if you want to,’ she said. ‘I won’t tell anyone. I’m not a grass.’

  I couldn’t see her face in the dark, so I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me or not.

  ‘I’m OK.’ I shrugged.

  ‘I can’t really remember much about when I first came into one of these places,’ she said. ‘But I do remember that every time I went to a new one, I would bawl my eyes out for about three days straight. The staff would give me lollipops to shut me up. By the time I’d moved to the fourth or fifth place, I’d wised up to the lollipop thing, so I would cry my eyes out even if I wasn’t upset. Free lollipops, see.’

  We laughed quietly.

  ‘But since I got older,’ she continued, ‘if I ever want to cry – which I never do, because I’m pretty solid like that – then I only ever cry at night. Nobody knows about it then.’

  I couldn’t really imagine Karra crying.

  ‘Anyway, I know the ultimate cure for sadness,’ she declared proudly.

  ‘What’s that?’ I smiled.

  ‘A hot-water bottle,’ she replied. ‘Auntie Sue bought mine for Christmas a couple of years ago, and I swear it’s my favourite thing in the world. Whenever I feel upset or when I’m not well, I just fill it up and it always makes me feel better. I take it to bed every night.’

  The street lights outside shone in through the curtains. Our eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the room was bathed in a subtle glow.

  ‘Have you got it now?’ I propped myself up on the pillow.

  ‘Yeah. I filled it up before I came in here.’ She folded her arms around the hot-water bottle.

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Course you can. Be careful, though – it’s sacred.’

  I looked at the pink hot-water bottle, and remembered seeing it earlier that day when Auntie Sue had first shown me and Mel to my room.

  I wished I had one of my own. I passed it back to Karra and she held it preciously, like a baby.

  ‘I’m the same with my lucky cardigan,’ I said.

  ‘Your what?’ Karra looked confused.

  ‘You know the blue cardigan that you and Quinn were arguing over today? The one with the little white rose on it?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. I know.’ Karra nodded. ‘Quinn wanted to give it back to you, because you said it was your favourite. She’s alright like that. Why is it a lucky cardigan?’

  I beamed with pride. ‘Ed Sheeran touched it.’

  Karra’s eyes widened. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You’re telling the truth?’

  I nodded and smiled.

  ‘Oh-My-Donald-Duck!’ Karra looked at me in awe. ‘You are a lucky girl, Emmeline.’

  We both lay back down, ready for sleep.

  ‘How did you get back in tonight?’ I asked. ‘I thought they locked the doors at half-ten.’

  ‘The pool room,’ she said. ‘It’s got a dodgy lock, so if you stick a bit of wire in it, the door unlocks automatically. We all do it. But the staff don’t know about it, so don’t say anything. Sometimes we get caught coming in late, but they haven’t got a clue how we manage to sneak in. They’ve been trying to work it out for months – it’s hilarious!’

  ‘What happens if you come in late?’ I asked. ‘Do you get punished?’

  Karra shook her head. ‘They can’t do nothing to us, can they? They’re not our parents, at the end of the day. They try to punish us, but they can’t force us to listen.’

  ‘Class.’ I grinned.

  ‘Yeah, but you’ve got to be careful,’ she said. ‘If they find out you’ve come in late, they might stop your pocket money. And where can you go if you ain’t got no money?’

  ‘Good point,’ I agreed.

  ‘Exactly!’ She was full of conviction. ‘They’re clever, them staff – they’re not as stupid as they look. So you have to play them at their own game. Screw the system, and all that! Burn your bra, or whatever it is that Auntie Sue always bangs on about. She’s one of them rug-munchers, you know.’

  ‘Auntie Sue is gay?’ I asked.

  ‘Naaah, not gay.’ She shook her head, trying to think. ‘The other one … what’s it called? A feminist.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ I nodded. ‘My best friend Megan is one of those.’

  ‘Is she?’ Karra sounded impressed. ‘She must be smart then, innit? I wouldn’t mind being a feminist one day – when I get enough qualifications.’

  ‘I don’t think you need qualifications to be a feminist,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, you probably do,’ she replied matter-of-factly.

  We soon settled into a tired silence, and I turned over to fall asleep.

  ‘You won’t tell the staff about that dodgy lock in the pool room, will you?’ Karra asked.

  ‘Of course I won’t! What do you think I am?’ I was insulted.

  ‘Just checking,’ she said, and then yawned.

  ‘That is pretty clever,’ I whispered. ‘Tricking them like that.’

  ‘Clever enough to get into university?’ Karra asked.

  ‘Definitely.’ I smiled and closed my eyes.

  ‘Em?’ she whispered in the dark.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Do you think that at one time there was just the one university? You know – The University? Or do you think there were always loads of universities, and I’m just thick?’ Her voice seemed suddenly fragile.

  ‘I think that originally, there was probably just the one university, like you said – The University,’ I replied. ‘I mean, they had to start somewhere, surely? And they probably didn’t have enough room for everyone, so they had to build another one, and then another one, and that’s how there are so many universities now. They all came from that one, big university.’

  She sighed happily, satisfied with the answer.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said. ‘Here you go. You can lend this for tonight.’

  There was a thump as something heavy landed on my bed.

  I felt the warmth through my duvet.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  I hugged the hot-water bottle to my chest.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ replied Karra. ‘Goodnight, Em.’

  NINE

  Breakfast time.

  People were scrambling over each other to get to the plates heaped with slices of warm toast, dripping in butter. Every plate was loaded with sausages, tomatoes, beans and scrambled eggs.

  I rushed down the stairs, Karra knocking me out of the way.

  ‘Nothing personal,’ she said, as she power-walked past me and slammed me into the wall.

  I pulled myself together and picked up my pace to get into the living room – the smell of freshly cooked bacon making me drool like a dog.

  I didn’t know where to sit. Was everyone assigned a place at one of the three tables, or did you just sit wherever you wanted? As I stood on the sidelines, trying to work out what I was supposed to do next, the room was filled by a huge thundering noise, like a stampede.

  ‘Bett…’ the three tables seemed to say at once. And with that, Bett crashed through the door like a semi-pro wrestler in a pink and black velour tracksuit.

  ‘MOVE, TYLER SMITH!’ she boomed as she charged past me with ‘MISS SEXY’ written in neon pink over the back of her big backside. She skidded onto a chair at the middle table, and Tyler scooted quickly out of the way, moving two chairs across.

  ‘Sit with us, Emmeline Rose!’ Bett grinned goofily and patted the empty space between her and Tyler. I went to the middle table and Tyler and Bett looked very pleased with themselves as I took my seat. But I didn’t have much chance to get comfortable because Quinn
and Karra had other ideas.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing, Bett?’ Quinn challenged her.

  ‘SHUT UP, QUINN DAVIES!’ Bett shouted through a mouthful of sausage and egg.

  ‘YOU SHUT UP, BETTY MORRIS!’ Quinn slammed down her fork in temper.

  I watched Bett, who was sat next to me, looking directly at Quinn and opening her mouth as wide as possible to show her the contents of her mushed-up breakfast.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, Bett. Emmeline’s sitting on top table with us.’ Quinn pulled out an empty chair next to her.

  Karra gave me a look of warning, making it clear that she expected me to move. I smiled apologetically at Bett and Tyler, and went to join the top table with the rest of the girls.

  Bett got up from her seat and followed.

  ‘I don’t think so, Bett.’ Quinn waved her finger. ‘You know you don’t sit on top table … ever. You sit on your own table, there, with the rest of the rejects. Now don’t be difficult with me today, alright? Because I warn you, I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘What will you do, Quinn Davies?’ Bett frowned. ‘Kill me with your little finger there? You’d better watch I don’t bite the thing off … because I will.’

  ‘Now now, girls!’ Gladys Friday called from the serving hatch. ‘Let’s not start today! Bett, go back to your table! And Quinn, stop throwing your weight around! If I have to sort you two out again today, so help me God, I’ll batter the pair of you!’

  ‘That’s child abuse, that is.’ Quinn pointed at a poster that was pinned to the wall of the dining room. It was titled ‘WHAT IS CHILD ABUSE?’ and was illustrated with lots of different pictures.

  ‘See, Gladys Friday…’ Quinn pinned her finger to the poster. ‘It says so right here: “HITTING OR HURTING A CHILD – OFTEN TO RELIEVE YOUR OWN FRUSTRATION”.’

  ‘Yes, Quinn, I can see that.’ Gladys Friday rolled her eyes. ‘But I didn’t hit you or hurt you, did I?’

  ‘But you threatened to, Gladys Friday. It’s the same thing, innit?’ Quinn pointed to a different section of the poster and said, ‘That would count as “VERBALLY ABUSING A CHILD”. Right next to “EXPOSING A CHILD TO PORNOGRAPHIC ACTS OR LITERATURE”.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Quinn! Sit down!’ Gladys Friday stomped around the kitchen.

  We all tucked into our breakfasts. I don’t know what I was expecting. Hot mush? Cold mush? Scenes from Annie?I was pleasantly surprised that in real life it couldn’t have been more different. The eggs were scrambled to perfection, the sausages were the ideal juiciness, and the bacon was soft and crispy at the same time.

  I’d made mine and Freya’s breakfasts quite often for the past two years, since my dad died, so I’d had some experience in rustling up something nice to eat. The first few months after he passed away, Mum didn’t really get out of bed much. And when she did, she would just sit by the window, staring out at the garden for hours, as if she was waiting for something.

  Grandma Coalman and Nana Rose would come down and do the washing and cook our tea, and they would clean the house every week. I’d watch them do it and I took mental notes on separating the whites and the darks, and how to empty the vacuum cleaner or make sure the gas cooker was turned off. I soon joined in with the housework and cooking. I enjoyed the responsibility, and it took my mind off Dad not being around. It was the same for Grandma Coalman, I suppose. I mean, he was our dad, but he was her son. Thirty-seven hours she was in labour with him, she said.

  Nana Rose didn’t take very well to Dad. When Mum and Dad got married, Dad wanted Mum to change her surname to his. But she was depressed at the thought of having a name like Coalman instead of a glamorous surname like Rose. So she refused to change it. This pleased Nana Rose and she told him so. She said that no daughter of hers was going to change her name to something as plain as Coalman, and that Mum should have married her first boyfriend, Kevin Monroe. That way, at least my mother would have some association with Marilyn.

  Although they never really got on, I think Nana Rose missed Dad when he was gone. Every day, she would take a cup of tea up to my mother in the morning, trying to wake her, and tell her that Freya and I were going to school. And when we came home, we’d all take her up another cup of tea, hoping that she would have moved from the bedroom window. She might even have got dressed! But we would usually find her either still in bed or just staring into the garden again.

  Sometimes Mum would get out of bed and come downstairs, but it was all too much for her – like she would get angry at the house. And she would get so stressed when we talked to her. Just our presence was annoying.

  When Nana Rose and Grandma Coalman went home in the evenings, Mum would go back to bed and leave me and Freya in the living room to watch films and eat the sweets she’d bought for us. Guilt sweets, I reckon. And in the mornings I would make Freya breakfast to keep her distracted until Nana Rose or Grandma Coalman came back.

  I thought how my little sister would have loved this Saturday breakfast I was eating. And when I thought it, I suddenly felt full.

  I was grateful for the distraction of these fascinating strangers. I looked around the crowded room at the three tables full of messy faces and loud voices. I found myself giggling at the banter, enjoying the easy way they all seemed to fit together like some quirky, dysfunctional jigsaw puzzle.

  Bett had gone back to her own table, and she and Quinn sat parallel to each other, arguing as they ate their breakfast. Karra was munching mass quantities of bacon, shouting at the two girls through a mouthful of baked beans.

  ‘GIRLS!’ she spluttered. ‘CHILL OUT, will you? Just wise UP!’ She accidentally spat food onto the table. She picked it up and put it back in her mouth.

  Gladys Friday leant through the serving hatch, her chin resting on her hand, thoughtfully. She watched us all for a moment, and then turned her focus to Karra.

  ‘I thought you turned vegetarian.’ She nodded at Karra’s plate.

  ‘Except for bacon and sausage-in-batter,’ replied Karra.

  ‘I see.’ Gladys Friday smiled at Karra as she watched her tuck into some more bacon.

  Karra put some extra food on both of our plates. ‘Come on, Em,’ she said. ‘You’ve hardly touched your breakfast. I’ve got no time for fussy eaters – they get on my nerves.’

  Gladys Friday winked at me from the serving hatch.

  I smiled.

  My appetite was starting to come back.

  TEN

  The days went by.

  I felt strangely detached from my own home, like it was a dream that I’d once had. I was floating around, quietly observing everything from a different dimension. My head felt like cotton wool – which wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t hate cotton wool. Every time I thought of it, I imagined it in my mouth, grinding against my teeth, making that horrible squeaky sound.

  I spoke to Freya and Grandma Coalman every day. Freya seemed to be coping brilliantly. Bill and Nora said that she had settled in really well and ‘had formed an even better connection’ with their Lola since they’d been around each other full-time. They said that it was like having a little sister for Lola. That stung me a little.

  Grandma Coalman was getting through, but I think things had taken their toll on her. I tried to reassure her that Freya and I were OK, but naturally she worried. There was also the stress of Mum’s health playing on our minds. We weren’t allowed to visit her in the hospital yet, so Grandma Coalman would ring the ward each day and speak with Mum’s name nurse to see how she was doing. Grandma Coalman was getting the house fixed up while Mum was away. She said it was the only thing she could do that gave her a sense of control, and if she didn’t have the house to work on, she would have crumbled by now.

  I was pleased that Freya had adapted so well. I wished that I could settle in the same way, but my body resisted my new life. I was on edge. I was constantly tired, but could hardly sleep. I was always hungry, but couldn’t stomach much food. My brain was filled with chatte
r all day long, and I’d forgotten what it felt like to be still.

  I tried to make my room more homely. I stuck up a few posters to brighten the place up a bit. Maybe I could decorate my bed with cushions, like they do in those American films. They always have big houses with cosy rooms in American films, don’t they? I went around the whole building looking for nice, cosy cushions that would make my bed American, but I only managed to find three that were good enough.

  The staff must have sensed my restlessness, because Auntie Sue and Gladys Friday said I was like a dog trying to settle in its bed; twisting in circles, pawing at the material, huffing and puffing until it was just right. I tried to keep busy and not worry about my family, but every time I stopped for long enough, my thoughts would drift back to Mum. Even though I knew she was safe in hospital, I was haunted by visions of her alone in a room, crying for me and Freya.

  On top of that, the half-term holiday was coming to an end and I was starting back to school on Monday.

  What if everyone was funny with me because I was in a children’s home? Obviously I’d told Megan. I knew that she wouldn’t tell anyone because she was my best friend. But a few other people from school would definitely have found out about it, because they lived in my street and one of the poxy neighbours would have told them.

  Zoe-two-doors-up was probably standing by her window, waiting for someone to invite in for a cup of tea and biscuits, so she could share all the gossip.

  Nosy cow.

  And whatever Zoe-two-doors knew, Stacy would know – and would tell everyone.

  Zoe-two-doors-up was the bitch of the street. If there was any trouble, she’d usually be sniffing around somewhere. And for some reason she always felt the need to belittle my mother whenever she saw her. I couldn’t remember a time when she had ever been genuinely nice to Mum.

  One time, Zoe-two-doors-up was coming out of the house to go jogging with a couple of the other neighbours. Mum, Freya and I were just getting out of our car with the shopping.