‘I think your mum is so beautiful,’ said Oliver.
I stared at him hard to make sure he wasn’t taking the mickey. But Oliver looked totally earnest, blinking rapidly, his long tufty fringe way past the rim of his glasses.
‘I think she’s beautiful too,’ I said.
‘I especially love her tattoos. They look so special. They’re not a bit like the usual ordinary red and blue sort.’
‘Those are just flash tattoos. You get the designs on the walls of tattoo parlours and they’re copied onto your arm. Boring. But my mum has custom tattoos, ones she’s designed herself. They’re all to commemorate something special in her life.’
‘And she’s got a dolphin to commemorate you?’
‘Yep. It’s a sort of magic mythical dolphin, not a common old bottlenose.’
‘Could I . . . could I see it properly?’ Oliver asked, breathing hard.
‘What? On my mum?’ I hesitated. I was used to thinking that Oliver was just awful old Owly. It seemed ultra-weird that he was an interesting person inside.
He wasn’t a wise choice for a friend. All the other kids teased him so they’d tease me too. But then they did already.
‘Do you want to come round to my house some time, Oliver?’
‘Yes please!’
‘What about your mum? Will she let you?’
‘She’ll be thrilled that I’ve got a friend,’ said Oliver.
‘Well . . . not exactly,’ I said, thinking he was being a bit presumptuous.
‘Can I come after school today?’ said Oliver.
I thought quickly. I wasn’t sure if Marigold would be better yet.
‘Maybe not today. My mum gets these moods,’ I said.
‘So does mine,’ said Oliver. ‘Headaches and crying and stuff. I have to be extra quiet and make her a cup of tea and give her some aspirin.’
‘Really?’ I said, my heart beating. I hadn’t realized other mums could act like that too.
‘It’s since she and my dad split up. He’s got a girlfriend.’ Oliver whispered the word girlfriend as if it was shocking. ‘I don’t like her.’
‘So? My mum’s had lots of boyfriends. Star and me have hated nearly all of them.’
‘What about your dad? Do you see him on Saturdays?’
‘No. I don’t ever see him.’
‘I don’t always want to see my dad either,’ said Oliver. ‘Dolphin, do you promise I can come to tea at your house?’
‘Well. Yes. Sometime. But we don’t always have ordinary tea. Like it might just be cakes.’
‘Cool! I love cakes.’
‘Or fish and chips from the chippy or pizza or something. We don’t really have proper cooked teas like other people.’
‘You are lucky,’ said Oliver.
He really wasn’t taking the mickey.
‘Maybe we are friends,’ I said.
I showed off about my new friend Oliver to Star after school. She didn’t seem particularly impressed. We were both tense as we opened the front door and went up the stairs. Marigold had spells when she went on drinking every day. But this time she wasn’t slumped on the sofa or throwing up in the bathroom. She was singing in the kitchen, her red hair newly washed, her eyes carefully outlined so they looked even bigger, green as green. She was wearing her best black jeans and a tight black top that showed off her figure. Oliver was right. Marigold looked the most beautiful mother in the world.
‘Hi, darlings,’ she said cheerily. ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got some juice and chocolate cookies – shop ones, Star.’
‘Great!’ I said, starting to gobble straight away.
Star nibbled her cookie tentatively.
‘Good?’ said Marigold. ‘And there’s cold chicken and heaps of salad stuff for supper. You’ll fix it, won’t you, Star?’
Star stopped eating.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘Oh, I thought I’d just have a little evening out, darling. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, of course not,’ I said quickly.
‘Yes. I do mind. I was going out,’ said Star. ‘I’m meeting some of my friends down at McDonald’s.’
‘Well, how about if you go out tomorrow? It is kind of important that I go tonight,’ Marigold wheedled.
‘It’s not fair,’ said Star, clenching her fists. Her cookie crumbled all over the kitchen floor.
I ate mine up in three bites, even though I was starting to feel sick. I hate rows.
Marigold was doing her best to avoid one.
‘I know it’s not fair, sweetie,’ she said, trying to put her arm round Star. Star shrugged her off angrily. ‘Just this one little night out. Come on. It means so much to me. It could even be important to you too, darling.’
‘How exactly could your going out pubbing and clubbing and getting drunk and making a fool of yourself and picking up strange men be important to me?’ said Star.
Her words buzzed round the kitchen like a swarm of angry bees.
‘Ouch,’ said Marigold. She laughed shakily. ‘Look, Star, this really is important. I’m not going to any old pub or club. And I won’t get drunk or do anything silly. Look.’ She took a ticket out of her jeans pocket and waved it. ‘I’m going to a concert, see?’ She’s pulled the lucky four-leaf clover out of her pocket too. It whirled through the air and landed at her feet.
‘Don’t tread on your clover leaf, Marigold,’ I said, picking it up for her.
‘Thanks, little poppet. I need all the luck I can get,’ said Marigold, kissing the clover and putting it carefully back.
Star was staring at the ticket.
‘You’re going to a concert?’
‘I wanted to take you two girls too, I know you’d love it, even though you tease me about my musical taste, Star. But they’re all sold out. I got this one ticket by a lucky fluke. Well, maybe it was the clover leaf, Dol.’
‘What concert is it?’
‘Emerald City. Remember, we saw the poster?’
‘They’re still playing?’ said Star. ‘They must be positively geriatric by now. Old guys going bald with beer bellies. I’m amazed they’re still around.’
‘This is a reunion concert. They’ve had separate careers for ages. And you never know – it might be a reunion concert for me too,’ said Marigold, her eyes glittering.
‘What?’ said Star.
‘Don’t you want to meet your father?’ said Marigold.
‘Oh, please! Do me a favour,’ said Star.
‘Emerald City were his favourite band,’ said Marigold. ‘He’ll be there. I just know he will. Micky.’ She always said his name reverently, her eyes shining, as if he was the leader of some strange religious cult and she was his chief worshipper.
She had his name tattooed on her chest, with a swirly Celtic heart beating blackly above her own. Tattooists advise you not to have anyone’s name on your body because once it’s there you’re stuck with it always, unless you laser it away. But Micky’s name is engraved for ever on Marigold’s real heart and no laser in the world could make that ink dissolve.
‘Don’t you want to meet your dad, Star?’ said Marigold.
‘You’re mad,’ said Star. She said the forbidden word coldly and deliberately. Marigold flinched. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
‘OK. We’ll see,’ she said.
Star seemed turned into stone. She wouldn’t let Marigold kiss her goodbye. I kissed Marigold twice instead.
‘You will come back, won’t you? You won’t stay out all night?’ I said, giving her more quick little kisses. Seven for special luck.
‘Of course I won’t stay out all night, silly Dol,’ said Marigold. She seemed to have forgotten the other night already. ‘I’ll be back way before twelve, you’ll see.’ She glanced at Star. ‘With Micky.’
She tapped out of the flat in her high heels. She left such a deep silence behind her that we could hear Mrs Luft moaning from her doorway about stiletto heels marking the stair-covering.
Star s
tood staring into space, gnawing at a hangnail on her thumb. I fidgeted about the room, wondering whether to get started on the chicken and salad. I wasn’t hungry but it would be something to do.
‘Back before twelve,’ Star muttered. ‘Like she’s stupid Cinderella. In search of putrid Prince Charming.’
‘What if she does meet Micky, Star?’
‘Oh right,’ said Star, heavily sarcastic. ‘Whoops. Watch out for that flying pig.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to meet him, though? What would you say?’
‘I’d say what sort of a father are you, walking out on Marigold and driving her crazy.’ Star paused. ‘She is mad.’
‘She’s not mad mad. I mean, she doesn’t look loopy and she doesn’t hear voices or think she’s Pocahontas or Princess Diana. She’s just good at making things up.’
‘She’s good at spending heaps of money that we haven’t got. She’s good at getting drunk. She’s good at getting completely nutty ideas into her head. She’s good at getting you to think she’s Ms Perfect Mumsie-Wumsie.’
‘Yes, but she still likes you best. Even now, when you’re mean to her. She loves us both equally but you’re the special one because you’re Micky’s child. I wish he was my dad too. She won’t ever talk about mine. It’s like she can’t even be bothered to remember him. She hasn’t even commemorated him with a tattoo.’
‘Well, you can make up for it. Here.’ Star picked up a pink felt-tip and wrote quickly on my forehead.
‘Get off!’ I looked in the mirror. I had a D and most of an A glowing on my skin. ‘Oh you pig, Star! What if it doesn’t wash off? Miss Hill will go bananas tomorrow.’
‘Come here. All you need is a bit of spit.’ Star sucked her finger and then rubbed hard at my forehead. ‘Is Miss Hill still picking on you?’
‘I hate her. And I hate Yvonne and Kayleigh. I hate the whole class. Except for Owly . . . Oliver. He’s OK.’
‘So this Oliver’s your boyfriend, right?’
‘No!’
‘I’ve got a boyfriend.’
‘What?’
‘It’s this boy I met when we were all hanging out at McDonald’s. Mark. He’s sixteen.’
‘Sixteen! But that’s way too old for you.’
‘Rubbish. He’s great, Dol. Ever so good-looking, with dark hair and amazing eyes and he’s got all these great designer sports clothes. All the other girls are crazy about him but I’m the one he said “hi” to.’
‘So you haven’t actually been out with him?’
‘Well. We’ve met up at McDonald’s and we’ve been down the rec.’
‘But with all the others.’
‘He’s kissed me.’
‘Really? You’re kidding me, aren’t you?’
‘No, really. He did it when we were messing around by the swings and most of his mates were over on the grass kicking a ball about.’
‘So what was it like?’
Star paused. ‘I don’t know. It was like a kiss.’
‘Yes, but what did it feel like?’
‘Slobbery!’ said Star, and we both laughed.
‘So was it him you were supposed to be meeting tonight?’
‘Yep. And some of the others. Janice Taylor will be there too. She’s in the year above me at school and she’s ever so pretty. She’s mad about Mark too. I’m scared she’ll get all matey with him if I’m not around.’
Star nibbled harder at her thumb, tearing the hangnail until it bled.
‘Stop eating yourself. OK. You go and see Mark tonight.’
‘But you’re scared on your own.’
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘Oh great!’ Star gave me a big grin and then ran to our room to get ready. ‘You’re sure, Dol?’ she called, as she changed out of her school uniform.
‘Sure I’m sure,’ I said. ‘So long as you’re not gone for ages.’
‘I’ll be back by ten. Promise. And you can eat all my chicken salad if you want.’
I was already wishing I hadn’t suggested it. I sat very still, twining my fingers together, wondering what I was going to do. No-one to talk to. No television. I could draw, I could look at pictures, I could dress up, I could play hairdresser. I didn’t fancy any of these ideas.
‘Dol? Don’t look like that,’ said Star, coming back into the living room. She was wearing one of Marigold’s tops and she’d outlined her eyes with black stuff. She looked incredibly grown up, a stranger instead of my sister.
‘I’m not looking like anything,’ I said, and I started doodling on the back of my school rough book.
I drew a girl with long hair and a tight top. I outlined her eyes and circled her with stars.
‘I’m off then,’ said Star. She peered over my shoulder. ‘Is that me?’
I grunted.
‘I look like I’ve got two black eyes,’ she said. ‘Well. See you when I get back. Before ten. You’ll be all right, won’t you?’
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Star ruffled my hair and then went. I heard the door slam and then the soft pad of her trainers.
The flat seemed so quiet without her. I wondered about playing some of Marigold’s old tapes. But I didn’t really want to think about Marigold or I’d start worrying.
I was worrying anyway. I kept looking all round the room, especially behind me. I kept feeling some crazy man was creeping up on me. Or some huge hairy spider was about to crawl over my foot. I pushed my chair right against the wall and tucked my legs up but it didn’t make me feel any better.
I drew someone else beside Star. Small ugly fish-face with a bottle nose. I drew droplets of water rolling off this little wet drip.
Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart started thudding. I gripped the pencil so tightly it made a groove in my hand. I waited for the knock at the door. I decided I wouldn’t answer. Marigold owed lots of money to people. Some of the collectors were frightening. Or there were old boyfriends. Especially the scary one.
I was shivering now. I tried to tell myself it was all right. They could bang at the door all night but all I had to do was sit tight. They’d give up and go away eventually.
But there was no knock. I listened hard. Had I imagined footsteps? Then I heard a scuffle and a key in the lock. They had a key! Some of the boyfriends had keys! And now he was letting himself in and I was here all alone . . .
The front door banged and the footsteps came down the hall. I bit hard on my fist, too scared to try to hide or run.
‘Dol?’ Star walked into the room and stared at me. ‘Dol, what’s happened?’
‘Oh Star! You scared me so,’ I said, leaping up and giving her a punch – and then a hug. ‘What are you doing back?’
‘I got to the end of the road and then I felt a bit mean about leaving you.’
‘I’m all right.’
‘Oh yes, sure! You’re practically wetting yourself. Come on.’
‘What?’
‘You come with me.’
‘To meet up with your friends?’
‘Yep.’
‘But you said—’
‘And now I’m saying you can come. Only not in that awful old dress. Put your jeans on.’
‘OK,’ I said happily.
Star leant me one of her T-shirts and I tied my hair up on top of my head to try to make me look a bit older. It stuck straight up like Dipsy’s aerial.
‘Maybe I look better with it down,’ I said. ‘What do you think, Star?’
‘It looks fine,’ she said. ‘Come on or it won’t be worth going. Now don’t mess about or say anything stupid, will you? Don’t act weird. Just try to be normal.’
I didn’t really know how to be normal but it didn’t matter. When we got down to the town and joined up with all the crowd outside McDonald’s no-one was remotely interested in me. They didn’t seem particularly interested in Star either. Janice Taylor and the other girls didn’t even bother to say hello. The younger boys grinned at Star and jostled around in fro
nt of each other but the older cooler guys didn’t give her a glance. I sussed out which one was Mark right away but he seemed caught up in some long discussion with his mates.
Star went and stood as near him as she could. I lurked behind her. My tummy was rumbling. I wondered why nobody wanted to go inside McDonald’s and start eating. I thought about the chicken salad at home.
‘I’m hungry now,’ I said hopefully to Star.
She was concentrating so hard on Mark I don’t even think she heard me. Every time he burst out laughing she bared her teeth and gave a little copycat snort. When he flicked his long hair back Star’s own head twitched. When he stuck one hand on his hip Star’s skinny arm could have been his shadow.
Two of the younger boys had a silly fight. One of them barged into her. She dug him hard with her elbow and muttered something sharp.
Mark looked up. ‘Hey, watch out for Twinkle!’
Twinkle! I waited for Star to knock his teeth down his throat. But she softened into syrup.
‘Hi, Mark,’ she said, in this silly little voice.
He fluttered his fingers at her and then muttered something to his mates. They all burst out laughing.
I don’t know if Star heard what he said but she blushed. She bent her head, hiding in her hair, but she still stood there. Waiting. Eventually, when most of the mates had wandered off inside, Mark put his arm round her.
‘Coming in for a bite, Twinkle?’
‘Can I just have a few of your chips?’
‘Don’t you want your own? I’ll pay.’
‘It’s ever so sweet of you, Mark,’ she said, golden syrup practically dribbling down her chin. ‘Hey, tell you what. Can I have an ice cream sundae?’
‘Sure.’
She went into McDonald’s, her shoulder still wedged under his armpit. She didn’t even give me a glance.
I kicked the skirting board of the door. What about me? It wasn’t fair. Ice cream sundaes were my favourite too. Star liked chocolate but I liked butterscotch. My tongue came out of my mouth by itself it wanted to lick an ice cream so badly.
‘Who are you sticking your tongue out at, kid?’ said Janice Taylor shirtily.
I wagged my tongue as rudely as I could.
‘Cheeky little whatsit! Who is she?’ said Janice’s friend.
The Illustrated Mum Page 7