by Jean Ure
“What do you think of that?” said Dad.
He sounded so proud of himself! He’d got a real job to go to – or would have, once he’d seen his friend.
“Don’t worry! It’s there, waiting for me.”
“See? I told you,” said the Afterthought, as we packed up our stuff yet again. “I told you Dad would take care of us!”
And then it came time to leave. I grabbed our bags, while the Afterthought cradled Titch, in his makeshift carry box.
“Oh – um – Sam,” said Dad. “I meant to say, earlier… you’d better leave Titch here.”
Leave Titch? The Afterthought froze. I could see Dad knew at once he was treading dangerously. No power on earth would separate the Afterthought from her beloved kitten.
“He’ll be looked after,” pleaded Dad; but the Afterthought just clutched at her box, standing stock-still and mutinous in the middle of the room.
“All right, all right, bung him in the car! But get a move on.”
Dad was starting to grow edgy, like he thought the bad guys might jump him if we didn’t leave immediately. We bundled ourselves downstairs and into a green car parked out front. It wasn’t the car Dad had had before. The Afterthought squeaked, “Oh! It’s different.”
“I thought Stephanie would like seat belts,” said Dad. “Come on, in you get! Quick, quick!”
I wondered if we were going to drive all the way down to the south of France. I thought that Mum wouldn’t be very happy about it. She always used to say that Dad was a menace on the roads because a) he drove too fast and b) he never took any notice of road signs. Dad used to say that Mum was even more of a menace.
“Crawling along at 30mph, holding up the flow of traffic… it’s people like you that cause accidents!”
As usual, the Afterthought always sided with Dad. She liked going at 60mph and shooting the lights. I guess I am a bit more of a wimp. Nervously I said, “Dad, are we driving to Nice?” I was quite relieved when Dad said we were getting a plane.
I still didn’t know where we were, but after a while I began to see signs that said Luton and I guessed that we were heading for Luton Airport. We had been there once before, when we had gone on holiday. I couldn’t decide whether I was scared or excited. I think I still couldn’t quite believe that it was happening.
“Dad,” I said, “couldn’t we please ring Mum before we leave? Please, Dad? Please?”
“Stephanie, I told you, we’ll ring her when we get there,” said Dad. “That’s a promise! We don’t have time, right now. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
“It’ll be all right,” whispered the Afterthought. “Dad’ll take care of us.”
I wished I could have as much faith in Dad as my little sister did.
We parked the car in the long-stay car park. I wondered what was going to happen to it, but Dad said his friend who owned the flat would come and get it.
“All taken care of! Don’t worry. Now, Sammie, sweetheart, listen to me! About the kitten.” I could see the Afterthought stiffen. I thought, so much for her faith in Dad. “You cannot take him over to France. OK? Just can’t be done! So be a good girl, and let me have him —” Dad reached out his hands for the box. The Afterthought, immediately, backed away. “Come on, come on! Don’t be silly,” said Dad. “I haven’t got time for all this! Give me the box.”
“No!” The Afterthought shot round the other side of the car. “I’m not going without Titch!”
“I told you,” said Dad. “There’s no way you can bring him. We haven’t made arrangements – we haven’t even got a proper carrying cage.”
“Then I’m not going!”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dad raced round the car and made a grab for the box. “Why you couldn’t just have left him in the flat—”
“I’m not leaving him anywhere! I’m not leaving him!”
“Dad, you can’t just dump him,” I said.
“I’m not going to dump him, for God’s sake! We’ll leave him in the car. He’ll be picked up in a couple of hours.”
Dad made another lunge. The Afterthought scuttled for safety behind me.
“It’s no use,” I said. “She won’t go without him.”
“Oh, now, Stephanie, don’t you start! You know perfectly well they won’t let a cat on the plane.”
It seemed to me that Dad should have thought of that before.
“Maybe you’d better go without us,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous! How can I go without you? I can’t just go off and leave you here!”
“No, and I’m not just going off and leaving Titch here!” cried the Afterthought.
“Samantha —” Dad made one last snatch at the box. This time, he managed to get his hands on it. He wrenched – and the box fell to the ground. Titch let out a piteous wail.
“There, now! Leave him,” said Dad. “Stephanie, open that car door and put him back in. And you!” He seized the Afterthought by the arm. “Get a move on! We don’t have all day.”
That was Dad’s BIG mistake. The Afterthought did as she always did in moments of crisis: she went into overdrive. Her piercing shrieks rang through the car park. “The screaming hab dabs” was what Mum used to call it. The Afterthought was an expert. When she was little she used to make a habit of it. She specially liked to do it in places where there were crowds of people, such as shopping malls – and car parks. Mum was the only one who could handle her when she got like that. Dad had never been able to cope. Dad was one of those people, he always turned his back on trouble. Which was what he did now.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” he shouted.
Next thing I knew, he was striding off across the car park with his caseful of money, leaving me and the Afterthought on our own, with Titch.
Dad’s voice came bellowing back to us: “Just don’t say I didn’t try!”
ALL THE TIME the Afterthought was screaming, people were stopping to stare at us. What is the matter with that child? Why is she making all that noise? But the minute Dad walked away and the Afterthought calmed down, they all immediately went back to doing their own thing. It was like suddenly we weren’t there. We stood by the car, with me clutching Titch, and no one took the slightest notice of us. I’m not sure what I would have expected, but I think perhaps I might have expected someone to ask us if we were OK, or something. Maybe they thought Dad would be coming back for us. It’s what I thought, just at first. I really couldn’t believe that he would just walk off and leave us.
I balanced Titch on the wing of the car, ‘cos his carry box was quite heavy, and told the Afterthought that we would wait where we were.
“I’m not leaving Titch!” said the Afterthought.
I quickly reassured her before she could get herself all worked up again. I had this idea that Dad would come back and say he’d made arrangements for Titch to come with us. Or, alternatively, he would say that we had better all go back to the flat and we would catch another flight in a day or so, after he’d made arrangements for Titch to come with us. But he didn’t. He didn’t do either of those things. We waited and waited, and he never came. The Afterthought slid her hand into mine.
“What are we going to do?” She tugged at me. “Stephanee! What are we going to do?”
I thought, this is how it was at the beginning, when we arrived in London and Dad wasn’t there. It had been up to me, then, to get us safely on the train for Brighton. Now it seemed it was up to me again – except that this time we didn’t have any train tickets, and we didn’t have any money, and it wasn’t any use the Afterthought asking me what we were going to do because I didn’t know!
“I want Mum,” said the Afterthought. “Stephanie, I want Mum!”
I wanted Mum, too. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in the whole of my life!
“Ring her!” said the Afterthought. “Ring her, Steph!”
“What if she’s still in Spain?”
“She can’t be!”
But she could be. If wha
t Dad had said was true – if Mum really had decided to make a new life for herself —
“Stephanee!”
“Yes, all right, all right!” I said. “I’ll try.” And then I remembered. “We haven’t got any money!”
“We don’t need money,” said the Afterthought. “We can reverse the charges. Please, Steph! It’s what Mum would tell us to do.”
“But what if —” I was about to say, what if Mum wasn’t there? But I looked down at the Afterthought’s face, all puckered up with anxiety, and I sniffed and wiped my eyes on the back of my hand, and did my best to pull myself together. My little sister was relying on me. So was Titch. They were both waiting for me to do something.
“OK!” I picked up the carry box. “Let’s go and find a phone.”
“You have to dial the operator,” said the Afterthought.
I said, “Yes, I know.”
“And then they ask the person you’re ringing if they’ll pay for the call, and —”
“Yes,” I said, “I know. Bring the bags!”
I tried not to think what we would do if Mum wasn’t there. We would have to ring Gran, or Auntie Jenny. But Gran was old, and in a home, and Auntie Jenny and Mum weren’t the hugest of friends. Not since Auntie Jenny had said Dad was a con man, and Mum had taken exception. But we would have to ring someone! Or go to the police.
The police would want to know what had happened. We would have to tell them everything, and that meant Dad would get into trouble. They might even arrest him. I wondered how I felt about that, and decided that I simply didn’t care. Dad deserved to be arrested! Abandoning the Afterthought was the meanest thing he had ever done. I didn’t mind so much for myself – well, I pretended I didn’t – but the Afterthought was his number one fan. She had always stuck up for him and taken his side. She had trusted him, and he had let her down, just like he had let Mum down. Just like he always let everyone down.
If Mum is not there, I thought, I am definitely going to the police.
I said this to the Afterthought, expecting her to scream, “Stephanie, no!” But she just nodded and said, “OK.”
“We’ll try Mum first,” I said.
“Yes,” said the Afterthought. “Try Mum first.”
We found a phone and I dialled the operator and told her the number, and then I looked at the Afterthought and crossed my fingers, and she crossed hers, on both hands, and together we held our breath. And then Mum’s voice came on the line!
“Stephanie?” she shrieked. “Is that you? Is Sam with you? Are you all right? Where are you? Where have you been? I’ve been going frantic!”
I said that the Afterthought was with me and that we were at Luton Airport. Mum’s voice rose to a screech.
“Luton Airport? What are you doing at Luton Airport?”
“Dad was going to take us to France,” I said, “but we —”
“France?” screamed Mum.
“Yes, but we – we decided we didn’t want to go with him, and the Afterthought threw one of her tantrums and Dad got scared and now he’s gone off and we’re stuck here and – oh, Mum! Can we come home?”
“Can you come home? Oh, God, Stephie, of course you can come home! What do you think? I’ve been waiting here for you! I’ve been having nightmares, I’ve been ringing and ringing… get yourselves back here immediately!”
“We can’t, we haven’t any money,” I wailed.
“He’s left you without money? Oh, for God’s sake! I’ll wring that man’s neck! All right, listen to me. I want you to go at once and find a Help desk. Can you do that? Are you inside the actual airport? OK! Go to the nearest Help desk and explain that you’re stranded. Right? Tell them that your mum is on her way to pick you up. I’ll be there as soon as I can! In the meantime, just sit tight. Don’t move, don’t talk to anyone. Just wait there for me. You got that?”
I said, “Yes, Mum.”
“And if by any chance your dad comes back —”
“I don’t think he will,” I said.
“If he does,” said Mum, “and tries to take you anywhere, on no account are you to go with him! Scream the place down, if necessary, but don’t let him take you anywhere. Promise me, Stephanie!”
I promised, I gave her my solemn word, but Mum still wasn’t satisfied. She seemed to think Dad might come waltzing back and carry us off. She told me yet again that we must sit tight and not move, and not go anywhere with anyone, and especially not with Dad.
“I mean it! Don’t even go and have a cup of tea with him! Promise me!”
“Mum,” I said, “I promise!”
“I shan’t know a moment’s peace till I have you back! These last forty-eight hours have been the worst of my entire life!”
She was back again, doing her old mumsy thing, and I was just so relieved!
“Mum’s coming to fetch us,” I said to the Afterthought. “She’ll be here as soon as she can.”
It was such a weight off my mind, knowing that Mum was on her way and that she hadn’t washed her hands of us. It meant we could both stop being frightened for the first time since Dad had told us about the bad guys and whisked us off to our prison cell. I realised, now, that I had been frightened, even though I’d kept telling myself that it was OK because we were with Dad. It hadn’t been OK at all!
The Afterthought, I must say, has the most amazing powers of recuperation. As soon as she had assured herself that Mum really did want us – “Really, really?” – she lost her puckered little anxious frown and went straight back to being her normal bumptious self. Quite extraordinary! She seemed to have totally forgotten that only a few minutes ago she had been clinging to me and whimpering.
The people at the airport, the ones who looked after us until Mum came, thought she was hilarious. She had them in stitches, telling them all about Titch and the things he got up to, imitating his tinny little voice, imitating the way he washed himself, the way he clapped his paws together as he jumped into the air, the way he rubbed himself round you. I suppose she was quite funny, but I am used to her being funny so I just sat back and let her get on with it. I was mainly just happy that I didn’t have to be in charge any more.
They looked after us really well, the airport people. They fed us and bought us magazines and even gave us a little saucer of milk for Titch. The Afterthought was worried about him being shut up for so long, so a lady said to let him out and she would guard the door so he couldn’t escape. Then the Afterthought started worrying in case he wanted to go to the toilet, so this same kind lady shredded a newspaper into a filing tray and told the Afterthought to put him in there. Titch thought it was great fun. He didn’t go to the toilet, but he scattered a lot of newspaper!
In spite of everyone being so nice to us, and the Afterthought showing off like crazy, I couldn’t wait to be back with Mum. The moment when I saw her coming towards us was THE VERY BEST MOMENT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. The Afterthought shrieked, “Mum!” and hurled herself at her. I suddenly felt a bit shy, which I suppose sounds rather silly. I mean, how can you be shy with your own mum? But I am not as madly outgoing as the Afterthought. Then Mum cried, “Stephie!” and held out her arms and I just fell into them.
“Oh, God! I’ve been so worried about you!” Mum hugged us both like she wasn’t ever going to let us go again. “What happened to your phone? Did you forget to re-charge it?”
I told her how I had run out of credit and how I couldn’t get topped up because of Dad being scared the bad guys might trace any calls that I made. The Afterthought told her about being locked up in one room for five days and having to go to the toilet in a bucket. Mum listened in growing horror as we poured it all out, every last detail.
“Your dad told you what?” she said.
“He told us you didn’t want us any more. He said that’s what you’d said.”
“No way!” cried Mum. “All I said was it was his turn to shoulder the burden. But I didn’t mean permanently! I just needed a bit of a break.”
“He said h
e’d asked you if it was OK if we went to live in France, and you’d said it was.”
“Nothing of the kind!” Mum sounded really angry; almost more angry than I’d ever heard her. Angrier, even, than when she threw the frying pan. “He never said anything about France! A day trip; that was all he ever mentioned. Nothing about you going to live with him! That is total fantasy! He knew perfectly well I would never have agreed.”
So Dad had actually lied to us. Probably about other things, as well.
“He wouldn’t let me ring you,” I said.
“Of course he wouldn’t! He knew I’d go straight to the police.” Mum raked her fingers through her hair. “Girls, I am so sorry! This is all my fault. I should never have let you go!”
“You needed a break,” I said. “We were so mean to you!”
“You were a bit tiresome,” agreed Mum. “But you had every right to be! Parents behaving badly… your dad and I were a real disaster area.”
“It was Dad,” said the Afterthought, “not you!”
“Oh, Sammie!” Mum hugged her. “That’s a sweet thing to say! Does it mean you’re not cross with me any more!”
“I won’t ever be cross with you again!” said the Afterthought, wrapping both arms round Mum’s neck.
“You’d better not make promises you can’t keep,” said Mum. “And by the way,” she said, as I picked up Titch in his carry box, “what is that?”
The Afterthought said, “It’s Titch! He’s my kitten.”
“Dad let her have it,” I said. “She pestered him until he gave way.”
“Hmph!” said Mum.
“Mum, I can keep him, can’t I?” The Afterthought unwrapped herself and peered anxiously into Mum’s face. “Please, Mum! Say that I can!”
“I suppose you’ll have to,” said Mum, “now that you’ve got him. I just hope he gets on with —” She stopped.
“With who?” I said.
“I’ll tell you later. Oh, dear!” Mum gave an odd little laugh, which sounded more like she was about to burst into tears. “This is terrible! I’m in such a state I’d probably say yes to anything.”