‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ I said, sniffing.
‘Oh, don’t. That makes me feel worse,’ said Marigold, crying harder. She cried like a little girl, her mouth open, snot running down her nose.
I fumbled in her bag and found a tissue.
‘Here,’ I said, wiping her face carefully.
‘It’s like you’re the mum,’ Marigold wept.
It was a game she sometimes liked to play. I decided it was my best chance of getting us home.
‘Yes, I’m the mum and you’re my little girl Marigold. Dear, dear, you’ve got yourself in such a silly state, darling. Let Mummy wipe your nose again,’ I said. ‘Now, come along with me, there’s a good girl. I’ll tell you a story as we go, right, precious?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ said Marigold in a little girl’s voice.
‘OK then, darling. Well. Once upon a time there was a little baby girl called Marigold and she had eyes the colour of emeralds and hair the colour of the setting sun, and she got stolen away by evil people . . .’
It was an old old story, one that Marigold had made up herself, but she listened as if she was hearing it for the first time. We walked on uphill, and I hoped and hoped we were going in the direction of the station. Marigold stumbled once and twisted her ankle. I put my arm round her. She snuggled in. I felt like I really was the mother and she was my little girl. I wished I could lift her right up in my arms and carry her. She was crying again, tears dribbling down her cheeks.
‘We’re giving up, aren’t we?’ she said.
‘No, darling, of course we’re not giving up. We’ll come back lots and lots and we’ll find them and it’ll be lovely, like you said. But we’re tired now, you’re very very tired, so Mummy’s going to get you home and put you to bed and cuddle you to sleep.’
Marigold stopped. I thought she was going to stop the game, stop me. 1 waited for her to get angry. She looked at me and it was like she was looking right through my eyes into my head at all the worries inside.
‘Oh Dol,’ she said. She sighed as if all the breath was kicked out of her. ‘Oh Dol, why do I do this to you?’
She came to the station and we caught the train. She fell asleep. I put my arm round her and let her rest her head on my still damp chest. The ticket man came and I had to wake her, but she was OK with him, even chatting him up a little bit. He had tattoos on his arms, simple heart and dagger flash work. He looked at Marigold’s skin with awe.
When we got back home at long last the phone was ringing. Ringing and ringing.
Star sounded frantic when I spoke.
‘Oh Dol, I’ve been so scared! Why didn’t you answer?’
‘We’ve been out.’
‘Didn’t you take the phone with you?’
‘We didn’t think about it.’
‘That was the point. It’s a mobile, right? Oh God, you’re so stupid. Are you all right? Is Marigold OK? Where have you been?’
Star paused. I paused too. Marigold stood watching, biting her finger.
‘Oh no. You haven’t been to Brighton looking for us, have you?’
‘Of course not,’ I said quickly.
‘Yes, you have! You should have stopped her. Look Dol, even if she found him it wouldn’t be any use. Micky’s got Siân. He doesn’t want anything to do with Marigold any more anyway. Listen, he thinks she needs treatment. He says it isn’t all horrible and electric shock stuff like Marigold goes on about. He says she can just take this drug and it’ll calm her down. But he says she shouldn’t be looking after us when she can’t even look after herself.’
I was holding the phone so hard against my ear that I was making grooves in my skin. Star’s voice still leaked out of a corner. Marigold could hear every word.
‘Shut up, Star!’
‘Micky’s dead worried about you, Dol. You should have come with me. I’m telling you, he thinks she’s really crazy.’
I cut off the call. Marigold stared into space. Then she dragged herself into her room and fell on her bed. She wept into the pillow where Micky had lain, her skirt rucked up, her poor sore heels blistered and bleeding. Her hair straggled down from its clasp, but the third eye peeped out between the red wisps, dry and unblinking.
I found my silk scarf and got into bed with Marigold. We didn’t bother to get up in the morning. I fixed us some cornflakes and toast about midday and then she huddled back down again while I drifted round the flat.
I drew for a bit. I tried to do a picture of Natasha on the back of the empty cornflake packet. I coloured her and cut her out so that I could hold her in my hand. Then I stole a sheet of paper out of Star’s school book and invented all these new outfits for Natasha. I drew big tags on the shoulders and cut them all out slowly, careful not to snip off a single tag. But the dresses and the coat and the frilly nightie didn’t fit. The arms were in the wrong place so that Natasha’s own pink cardboard arms waved about behind the empty sleeves and even the necks weren’t right, so the clothes hung stiffly at odd angles.
I realized I should have lain the cardboard Natasha down on paper and drawn round her to get an exact fit for the clothes but I was too disheartened to give it another go. I tried to pretend Natasha instead, inventing all sorts of games for us. Marigold must have heard me muttering because she came into the room rubbing her eyes.
‘Is Star back?’
‘No.’
‘She didn’t say when she was coming?’
‘No.’
‘It could be any time, I suppose,’ said Marigold. ‘Micky might drive her back. And come up. Hey, we’d better get the place tidied up a bit, Dol. Oh God, I look such a sight – bath time! You come too. You look a bit grubby round the edges.’
I loved sharing a bath with Marigold because her body looked so bright in the water, a living picture book to gaze at. I liked seeing all the tattoos that usually got covered up. There was a green and blue serpent that wiggled all the way down her spine, twisting first this way and then that, its long forked tongue flickering between her shoulder blades, the tip of its tail way down at the crease where her bottom began.
I traced the first few coils, and Marigold wriggled her shoulders so that the serpent writhed convincingly. I’d never been all that sure about the serpent. It had tiny hooded eyes that looked sly and scary. Suddenly the serpent seemed too real, as if it was about to wriggle right off Marigold’s back and slide up my own skin. I got out of the bath quick.
Marigold took ages. She was even longer getting dressed, trying on and discarding practically all her clothes. She ended up choosing an oldish pair of jeans and a pale pink T-shirt that belonged to Star. She wore pale pink lipstick too, and brushed her hair back behind her ears which didn’t suit her. If she hadn’t had her vivid tattoos she’d have looked almost ordinary. I got it. She was trying to show Micky she wasn’t crazy.
I didn’t dare point out that Star had her train ticket back so Micky wouldn’t be coming anywhere near our house. I didn’t want Marigold to get mad at me again for being negative. And I was wrong. When Star came back at long last, not till the evening, she went straight to the window and waved. We heard the car start up and drive away.
Marigold dashed to the window too but Micky had gone.
‘He drove you all the way from Brighton?’ I mouthed.
‘He wanted to make sure I was OK,’ said Star, showing off. ‘And that you were too.’
‘Of course we’re OK,’ I said crossly.
Marigold was still pressed flat against the window. We both watched her anxiously. She looked like she was going to step straight through it.
‘Marigold?’ said Star.
Her shoulders straightened. She turned, blinking hard, her eyes brimming. I could see the pulse flickering at her temple. She took a deep deep breath. Then she forced her pale pink lips into a silly smile.
‘Did you have a good time, darling?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I did,’ said Star defiantly.
‘Good. I’m so glad,’ said Marigold. ‘I think
it’s quite wonderful that you have this chance to know your father. Micky drove you all the way back? Why didn’t you ask him up for a drink, sweetie?’
‘He had to get back.’
‘Right,’ said Marigold. ‘Well. Did he say anything about seeing you again?’
‘Next weekend,’ said Star.
‘That’s lovely,’ said Marigold, and she went to put her arms round Star.
Star stiffened at first but then she suddenly put her arms round Marigold’s neck and hugged her hard.
‘I did ask him to come in. And I told him how much you care about him. Oh Marigold, I wish it could work out the way you want, you and him and Dol and me. I’m sorry. I felt so bad going. But I had to see him.’
‘Of course,’ said Marigold, cuddling her close. ‘He’s your father. And he’s wonderful, like I’ve always told you. You mustn’t feel bad, my Starry girl, you must feel good. I expect Micky simply needed to have you all to himself this weekend. He needs this Sian to act like a chaperone, right? I understand. Don’t worry so. Dol and I had a lovely time together, didn’t we, darling?’
‘Yes. Yes we did. A lovely time,’ I repeated.
Star interrogated me privately when we went to bed.
‘Shut up about it. A lot you care. If I’d told you on the phone she was chopping me up with a meat cleaver you still wouldn’t have come back,’ I whispered bitterly.
‘That’s such a stupid thing to say! I was so worried. It kind of spoilt the whole weekend if you must know. I just kept phoning and phoning and wondering if you were all right.’
‘But you didn’t come back early to see, did you?’
‘Look, it’s not like I’m your mother. It’s not fair. Why should I always have to look after you?’
‘Well you don’t. I can look after myself. I looked after Marigold too. She got all stroppy and weird but I handled it. I knew just what to do to get her sorted out.’
‘What do you mean, stroppy? What did she do?’
‘Nothing. Because I stopped her.’
‘You’re coming with me next Saturday.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘You are. You have to. You’ve got to get to know Micky.’
‘Why? He’s not my father.’
‘I know he’s not. But he’s still going to look after you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dol. You have to keep this deadly secret. Do you swear?’
‘Yes, OK. What is all this then?’
Star got out of her own bed and crept across to mine. She leant forward so that her breath tickled my face.
‘I may be going to live with Micky,’ she whispered right in my ear.
‘Live with him?’
‘Sh! Yes. And he says you can come too. We’ve discussed it all, him and me. And Sian too. They don’t always live together, she’s got her own flat, but Micky’s thinking of getting a bigger place for the four of us.’
‘And Marigold?’
‘Don’t be silly.’
I thought about it, my head spinning. It was like one of the fairy tales. No, you don’t have to stay locked up with the wicked witch. This handsome prince has come along and he’s turned the two little beggar girls into princesses, even the scraggy ugly one, and they can all live in a new fairy castle together. Only Marigold wasn’t a wicked witch. She was our mum.
‘We can’t leave her.’
‘We can still see her whenever we want. But Micky says she should go into hospital for a bit. He says he knows this great place where they do all this therapy.’
‘She’d never go.’
‘If she’d just take this medicine—’
‘But she wouldn’t.’
‘Then that’s not our fault. She’s supposed to look after us. We’re children. We’re not supposed to look after her. The way I’ve always done. Well, I’m not doing it any more. I’ve got two parents now. I want to be with my dad.’
‘I think you’re horribly mean and selfish.’
‘What!’ Star took hold of my shoulders and shook me hard. ‘How dare you! Look, I could have stayed with Micky today, that’s what he wanted, it’s what I wanted too, but I had to come back to get you all sorted out. I needn’t have given you another thought, Dol, I could have just stayed with my dad, simple, perfect. But we kept thinking about you and how you maybe couldn’t manage the way I have—’
‘I can manage.’
‘And he’s perfectly willing for you to come and live with us too. Don’t you realize what a big thing that is. I mean, you’re not his daughter and yet he’s prepared to look after you, bring you up like he was your dad.’
‘I don’t want him to be my dad. He doesn’t care about me. He only cares about you.’
‘I’m his daughter.’
‘So you keep saying, over and over, until I’m sick of it.’
‘I’m sick of you, Dol. I thought you’d be thrilled.’
‘Well, I’m not. I don’t want to live with him. I want to live with Marigold.’
‘OK then. If that’s what you want,’ said Star. She got off my bed and climbed into her own.
We both lay still in the dark. I rubbed my scarf against my nose. I kept sniffing and swallowing. I hoped Star might think I was crying. I wanted her to feel mean. I wanted her to tell me she wouldn’t go off to live with Micky without me. I wanted her to stay. I wanted to be the three of us, Marigold, Star and me, the way we’d always been.
Marigold was on her very best behaviour all week. She didn’t drink at all. She didn’t shout or swear at anyone, she didn’t go on a wild spending spree, she didn’t stay in bed till lunchtime and stay up all night. She wore her mumsie jeans-and-T-shirt outfit and she made sure we had a proper tea every afternoon, baked beans on toast, sausage and chips, fish fingers, macaroni cheese.
‘I think she heard you,’ I said to Star. ‘She’s trying to make you want to stay.’
‘No. She’s being all nicey-nicey because she wants to get round me. She wants me to tell her where Micky lives.’
‘Well, why can’t she know?’
‘He doesn’t want to see her. He’s got Sian, I keep saying. He only stayed the other night because of me,’ said Star, tossing her head so that her hair fanned out. I wanted to grab two silky strands and tug hard.
‘You think you’re so special,’ I said bitterly.
‘Micky thinks I’m special,’ said Star. ‘My dad. It’s just magic between us.’
‘Yuck.’
‘You’re just jealous.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I said, though I was so jealous I could hardly stand to speak to her.
‘And Marigold is too. She keeps staring at me in this funny way, have you noticed?’ said Star. ‘You know what makes me really mad? She can stop herself going crazy. She’s been as sweet as sugar all week. She could control herself all the time if she really wanted and act like a normal mum.’
‘You always said she couldn’t help it when she went funny.’
‘I know. I’ve always made excuses for her. I’ve done everything. When you were little and she went weird or got drunk I did everything for you. There’s stuff she did that even you don’t know about, Dol. I tried to look after you properly. I tried to look after her. And yet do you know something? It’s never quite worked. It’s never been enough. It’s like she’s this little girl at a party and you keep giving her presents but it’s always the wrong ones.’
‘She liked her green clasp. She keeps wearing it.’
‘I don’t mean literally. Oh, you’re too young to understand.’
I felt too young to understand. I wasn’t sure if Star really meant all she was saying. She couldn’t really seriously intend to leave for ever next weekend. What about her precious school?
‘I can go to any old school in Brighton,’ she said airily. ‘In fact Micky might even send me to a private school, he says I’d probably do even better then.’
‘What about all your friends.’
‘I can make more friends.�
��
‘What about Mark?’
‘Him!’ said Star scornfully.
She meant it too. Micky must have given her lots of money because she took me to McDonald’s one evening and bought me a cheeseburger and French fries, a strawberry milkshake and two ice cream sundaes with butterscotch sauce. Some of the boys hung round our table trying to talk to Star but she showed no interest in them whatsoever. I thought she was simply saving herself for Mark. He was larking about outside with his mates. Janice Taylor was there too.
‘She’s welcome to him,’ Star said to me.
When we went outside Mark called to her.
‘Hey, Twinkle!’
She didn’t even turn round.
‘Twinkle little Star! Hey!’ He bounded in front of her. ‘Where are you off to, then.’
‘Home,’ said Star, pulling me along too.
‘Come for a little walk first, eh?’
‘No.’
Mark stopped, obviously wrong-footed.
‘What? Leave your little sister. Come on.’
‘No, I said. Are you deaf?’ said Star.
‘What’s up with you?’
‘I’ve just realized I don’t have to hang around with guys like you,’ said Star.
She marched off so briskly I had to run to keep up. Mark missed a beat, and then started yelling stuff after her. His mates joined in. They called Star awful names. I felt myself going red all over but Star stayed cool.
‘You watch it, you pathetic creep. If my dad hears you calling me stuff like that he’ll knock your yellow teeth right down your throat,’ she said.
‘You’re not going to be able to go back to McDonald’s now,’ I said.
‘I don’t want to. Not with that crowd.’
‘I thought Mark was your boyfriend.’
‘No. Anyway, Micky doesn’t think I’m anywhere near old enough for boyfriends,’ said Star, as if that settled it.
She didn’t seem to care that I wouldn’t be able to go back to McDonald’s either.
‘Don’t you want a boyfriend now?’ I asked.
‘Not him. Hey, what about your boyfriend?’
‘Who?’
‘The owly one.’
‘Oliver.’
‘Ooh, Oliver, eh? Tell me all about him then.’
The Illustrated Mum Page 11