She blinked at us, scratching her very short hair. Then she wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh dear, Frankie, did you puke?’
‘It’s the kids. That’s why we’re here. Poor Em needs a bath.’
‘I wasn’t the one who was sick,’ I said.
‘But you are the one who needs a clean coat. Sarah, do you have anything you could lend Em?’ Dad asked.
‘Oh God, Frankie, I don’t know. I expect so. Look, you kids hurry up and have your bath because I want one too.’ She smiled at Dad. ‘Make me a cup of coffee, eh?’
‘Sure, darling,’ said Dad.
We stared at her, outraged. What was she doing, ordering our dad around? She didn’t seem that much older than me.
‘Are you a girl or a lady?’ Maxie asked.
‘Neither,’ said Sarah, reaching for a packet of cigarettes and lighting up. She saw me staring. ‘What?’ she said, sounding irritated.
I looked at Dad. He’s always hated smoking. Mum told us she used to smoke twenty a day but she had to give them up when she met Dad. I remembered her chewing gum desperately for weeks.
‘Our dad doesn’t like cigarettes,’ said Vita.
‘Well, your dad doesn’t have to smoke them. All the more for me, Em,’ said Sarah.
‘I’m not Em!’ said Vita, amazed. ‘I’m Vita!’
‘Whatever,’ said Sarah.
She didn’t seem to care. She was acting as if we were three mangy mongrels making a mess in her flat. She couldn’t be bothered working out which was which. She obviously just wanted us out again as soon as possible.
‘Off you go and have your bath then, Em,’ said Dad. ‘Try not to use too much hot water, sweetheart, if Sarah wants a bath afterwards.’
I ran a minute bath, barely a couple of centimetres of hot water, peeled off my clothes and then clambered in. I felt like a big pink hippo trying to wallow in a small puddle. I washed as quickly as I could. I had to borrow a flannel. I hoped it was Dad’s. It was weird seeing his toothbrush, his razor, his special black hairbrush on the windowsill. Sarah’s eye make-up and black hair dye and funny cakes of soap with bits of petal stuck inside them were scattered all over the place. Her purple and black stripy tights dangled above me from a line across the bath. Her underwear hung there too, but I was trying hard not to look at the horrible wispy things.
I got out and inspected the towels dubiously. None of them looked very clean. The bathroom floor was all bitty too. It didn’t look as if Sarah ever bothered to vacuum. I thought of Mum rushing around with her hoover every morning because she had to keep our part of the house pin-neat. Gran always expected everywhere to be spick and span.
I hastily rubbed myself dry and pulled on my own knickers and jeans and socks and shoes. I couldn’t put my Miss Kitty nightie back on because it was all sicky round the neck. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to go back into the main room half dressed.
Vita tapped on the door. ‘Em, let me in.’
She was holding a black jumper and a denim jacket. ‘They’re hers,’ she said. ‘She says she needs them back again.’
‘What does she think I’m going to do, keep them?’ I hissed. ‘I hate having to wear her horrid clothes.’
I pulled on the black jumper. Sarah was a grown-up and I was still a child but the jumper was skin-tight on me. I knew it showed off all my plump bits. I covered it up quickly with the denim jacket. Even that was way on the skimpy side.
I felt my eyes filling with tears. I blinked quickly, hoping Vita wouldn’t see me being such a baby.
Vita did see, but she surprised me. She reached up on tiptoe and put her arms round me. ‘It’s all right, you look OK, Em,’ she whispered.
I plucked at the tight jumper. ‘How can she be so little when she’s grown up? Vita, do you think she’s pretty? Prettier than Mum?’
Vita shook her head so hard her neck clicked. ‘No, I think she’s horrible.’
‘Ssh!’
‘I don’t care if she hears. What is Dad doing with her?’
I didn’t have a clue. I went back into the main room, standing there self-consciously.
‘Wow! You look fantastic, Em,’ said Dad. Then he looked past me, at Sarah. ‘OK, babe, your bath time now. Then we’ll all go out and get a bite to eat, right?’
It wasn’t right. It was horribly wrong. Vita could barely wait until Sarah was in the bathroom.
‘We want it to be just us, Dad, you, me, Maxie and Em.’
‘Oh, come on, sweetie,’ Dad said.
‘This is our day, Dad, specially for us,’ said Vita.
‘Can’t it be for all of us?’ said Dad, tickling Vita under the chin to try to make her smile.
Vita glared back at Dad, her pointy chin stuck in the air. ‘No, it can’t!’ she said. She clenched her fists and gave him a pretend punch.
‘No, it can’t!’ Maxie copied, hitting out at Dad too. He didn’t know how to pretend and hit Dad hard.
‘Hey, hey!’ Dad’s voice went suddenly cold and cross.
Vita and Maxie stared at him, shocked. Dad didn’t ever get cross.
‘Now stop behaving like silly babies, the pair of you. I’ve been longing for you to meet Sarah and this is the perfect opportunity. She’s very special to me.’
‘She can’t be that special, Dad. You’ve only been with her since Christmas,’ I said.
‘I’ve known Sarah for six months, Em,’ Dad said quietly.
‘You’ve known Mum years and years and years,’ I said.
Dad sighed. ‘I thought you’d understand, Em. Now come on, all of you, let’s lighten up. Stop pouting at me, Vita. Maxie, don’t you dare cry. I know you’re all going to love Sarah when you get to know her.’
We didn’t get to love Sarah. We loathed her.
We didn’t get to go to McDonald’s. We went to this posh Italian restaurant. Dad insisted on ordering a plate of spaghetti each for Vita and Maxie though I knew they wouldn’t eat it all. Sarah didn’t eat much of hers either, though she messed around with it a great deal, twirling bits round and round her fork and sucking up strands like a little kid. Dad laughed at her, but when I copied he told me to stop messing around and eat properly.
‘Look, you’ve spilled spaghetti sauce all down Sarah’s black sweater!’ said Dad. ‘Em? I’m talking to you.’
I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t dare take my eyes off my plate in case I burst out crying. Dad didn’t seem to understand how much he’d upset me. He went back to chatting with Sarah. She snuggled right up to him and whispered in his ear. They were like two hateful kids at school ganging up on us.
I stared at my spaghetti until it blurred into wriggling orange worms. I twisted my emerald ring round and round my finger under the table. I wanted to twist it right off and drop it on the dirty floor. I decided I couldn’t stand Dad any more.
We went for a walk in a park afterwards. It was cold and drizzling and I shivered in Sarah’s skimpy jacket.
‘Oh poor Princess Emerald, you’ve been fated to be frozen all day,’ said Dad, and he wrapped his arms round me.
I held myself stiffly but he wouldn’t give up. ‘Let’s thaw you out, my lovely,’ he said, cuddling me close. Then he put his hands under my arms and whirled me round and round. Dad’s slim and I’m shamefully big but he treated me like I was as light as a feather.
Then he held my hand and started telling me about Princess Emerald in Glacier Land. It seemed so real it truly felt as if we were wrapped in rich furs, gliding over shiny white ice, with polar bears lumbering past, seals barking and waving their flippers, and penguins sliding comically on their tummies down the icy slopes into the black sea. My heart melted in this freezing fantasy land and in two minutes I loved Dad so much I was willing to forgive him anything.
I even tried to be polite to Sarah. She didn’t try to be polite to any of us. She walked along hunched up, her arms wrapped tight round her chest. Maxie tried to run after some ducks and tripped and fell headlong. Sarah didn’t unwrap her arms even
then. She simply stood still, waiting for someone else to pick him up and comfort him.
Dad mopped him up and then gave him a piggyback. Vita stalked along by herself, muttering to Dancer.
I tried to walk in step with Sarah.
‘So where did you meet my dad?’ I asked.
‘Oh, around,’ said Sarah, infuriatingly vague.
‘Do you work at the Palace?’
‘No, no.’
‘So what work do you do?’
‘I’m an actress.’
‘So what have you been in?’
‘This and that.’
I nodded. Dad usually said that too. It meant nothing very much at all recently.
‘Vita wants to be an actress,’ I said.
Vita heard and gave a little twirl.
‘Yes, she would,’ said Sarah. ‘Do you want to be an actress too?’
I wondered if she was mocking me. ‘I don’t know what I want to be,’ I said.
‘Well, what are you good at?’ said Sarah.
I thought hard. I started to panic. I wasn’t really good at anything. I could make up stories but that didn’t really count. My stories weren’t anywhere near as good as Dad’s, anyway. I liked colouring in my books but I was rubbish at drawing my own people. I liked dancing when I was all by myself but I’d never been taught. I’d have died if I’d had to wear one of those skimpy little leotards.
‘I’m not good at anything,’ I said, sighing.
‘Yes, you are. Em’s good at looking after us,’ said Vita, glancing over her shoulder.
Sarah didn’t look impressed. ‘Do you like looking after people?’ she said.
I thought about it. I wasn’t really that good at it. I wished I could really look after everyone. I’d give Vita a starring part in a TV programme. I’d stop Maxie being so scared of everything and make all the little kids who teased him want him as their best friend. I’d make Dad a Hollywood movie star, though he’d fly back home to us in his own personal jet every weekend. I’d give Mum her own hairdressing salon and she could develop her own range of Julie haircare products.
‘Hello?’ said Sarah rudely, waving her hand in front of my face.
‘Goodbye!’ I said.
I dodged past her, caught hold of Vita’s hand, and we ran together. Maxie left Dad and clutched my other hand. We all three ran like crazy people, yelling at the tops of our voices.
We ran and ran and ran, along the gravel path and round the pond and right up the hill. I thought Dad would get scared and come rushing after us. I waited for him to start shouting our names.
There were no thudding footsteps, no calls.
When we were almost at the top of the hill Maxie stumbled and fell over again. He lay there, panting. Vita stopped too, clutching her side, her face scarlet. I turned round, the blood drumming so hard in my head there was a red mist in front of my eyes. I blinked. I saw Dad far away below us, a little doll’s house father. He had his arms round Sarah. He was kissing her. It wasn’t the sort of kiss he gave Mum. It was a real filmstar kiss.
‘Yuck!’ said Vita.
‘Yuck yuck yuck,’ said Maxie, sitting up. Then he saw what we were looking at. His bottom lip stuck out. ‘Why is Dad kissing that lady?’ he said.
I swallowed. ‘Because he likes her.’
‘Well, we don’t,’ said Vita. ‘And now we don’t like Dad either. We want to go home.’
‘We want to go home,’ Maxie echoed.
I wanted to go home too. I hated this cold bleak stupid park.
We walked back down the hill holding hands. They were still kissing when we got right down to the bottom.
‘He looks like he’s eating her, yuck yuck yuck,’ said Vita. ‘Let’s creep up on them and give them a big push right into the duckpond.’
We all laughed in a weird high-pitched way.
‘Let’s do it now,’ Vita urged.
I didn’t know if she was serious or not. I didn’t care. I was suddenly overwhelmed by this image of Dad and Sarah shrieking and splashing. I saw Sarah dripping with green slime, ugly and ridiculous.
‘We’ll run at them,’ I whispered.
But at that moment Dad spotted us. They broke apart. Sarah laughed at our faces. Dad smiled anxiously.
‘Hey, you three. Having fun?’
‘No, we’re not,’ said Vita. ‘We want to go home.’
‘Back to Sarah’s?’
‘That’s not home,’ said Vita in disgust. ‘Our home.’
‘Not yet, Princess Vita. Come here, darling, let me tell you all about Princess Vita’s new holiday home. She has a house right on the top of the cliff made of shells, thousands and thousands of tiny shells stuck in pretty flower patterns—’
‘I’m not listening! I don’t care about stupid princesses. I’m not listening, not listening, not listening,’ Vita chanted, her hands over her ears.
She wasn’t a pushover like me. She wouldn’t let Dad win her round, though he tried his best. She wouldn’t even kiss Dad goodbye when he’d trailed us all the way back home. Dad tried to kiss her anyway. Vita rubbed her cheek fiercely, as if he’d smeared her face with something disgusting. Maxie held his head stiffly to one side so he couldn’t be kissed either.
‘Oh, kids,’ Dad said sadly. He looked at me. ‘You’ll give me a kiss, won’t you, Em?’
I wanted to kiss him, of course I did. I wanted to wind my arms round his neck and beg him to stay. But I kept thinking about the way he’d kissed Sarah. I dodged round Dad and rang our doorbell quickly, ignoring him.
5
‘I CAN’T BELIEVE he took you to that woman’s flat!’ said Gran. ‘Here, take those clothes off, Em.’
She pulled them off me so violently it’s a wonder my skin didn’t come off with them. Mum picked the black jumper up with the tips of her fingers.
‘She must be very small, very slim,’ she said. ‘Is she very pretty, Em?’
‘No! Not a bit. She’s weird.’
‘In what way weird?’
‘Like she’s got this tattoo on her arm. And her hair’s really really short. She looks sort of scruffy,’ I said, pulling on my pyjama top.
Vita and Maxie were already in bed, though it had been a struggle to get them there. Vita showed off like anything, prancing around like the dancers in the New Year’s Day parade, twirling two old socks above her head like streamers. Maxie got the giggles and then gave himself hiccups and couldn’t stop. He kept his mouth open when he hiccuped to sound as grotesque as possible.
I couldn’t get them to shut up. Mum didn’t even try. She leaned against the bathroom door, staring into space. Gran had to come in and give them a telling-off, scooping them both out of the bath and shaking them hard. She had them dried and dressed in their night things and tucked firmly into bed in ten minutes, with dire warnings if she heard another peep out of them.
She let me stay up because she wanted to know every last detail about Dad and That Woman. Mum started concentrating then, asking me question after question. My head ached, trying to tell her the right answers.
‘Do you think he really loves her, Em?’ Mum asked, her voice a sad little whisper.
Gran sniffed. ‘That’s not the word I’d use. Frankie doesn’t know how to love anyone, not in the real sense of the word.’ Gran went off on a rant. Mum and I weren’t listening. Mum was looking at me desperately.
I struggled, not knowing what to say. I kept thinking about the way Dad looked at Sarah, the way he followed her around, the way he kissed her. That was love, wasn’t it? Then I remembered a word from one of Mum’s magazines.
‘I think it’s just infatuation, Mum.’
Gran laughed and called me a little old woman, but Mum took me totally seriously.
‘So you think it’s all a five-minute wonder and he’ll come back to us?’
‘Yes, yes, of course he’s going to come back to us,’ I said. How could I say anything else?
‘You’ll be a fool if you take him back,’ Gran said.
&nbs
p; ‘OK, I’m a fool. I don’t care,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Too right I don’t,’ said Gran.
‘Haven’t you ever been in love, Gran?’ I asked. ‘You once loved my grandad, didn’t you?’
‘Look where it got me,’ Gran snorted. ‘He pushed off and left me stranded with your mum. Still, at least I learned from my mistakes.’ She shook her head at Mum.
‘You don’t always have to be right, Gran,’ I said. ‘Dad will come back, you’ll see. It will all come right and we’ll be happy again.’
‘What’s that pink animal flapping past your nose? Whoops, it’s a flying pig,’ said Gran. ‘If you ask me, I doubt you’ll ever see him again.’
‘We’re not asking you. Of course we’ll see him. I’ll see him every day at the Palace,’ said Mum.
The Pink Palace really looks like a palace. It’s a huge Victorian building with little towers and turrets. It used to be owned by a big insurance company but they sold it off in the 1960s and someone painted it bright pink all over and turned it into a gift emporium. The pink is faded and peeling now and the towers and turrets are crumbling, but the gift emporium is still there, though half the stalls have closed down.
There are still T-shirt stalls and silver jewellery stalls and second-hand CD stalls and weird stalls that sell all sorts of junk and rubbish. The best stall of all was my dad’s Fairyland. It was very tiny, in its own dark little grotto, with luminous silver stars twinkling on the ceiling and a big glitter ball making sparkles all over the floor. There were fairy frocks and fairy wings and magical fairy jewellery, fairy wands and fairy figurines and entire sets of Casper Dream fairy books.
I was the one who gave Dad the idea for Fairyland! When I was much younger I had this embarrassing obsession with fairies. I was desperate to have a proper fairy dress. I can’t help squirming now, because I’ve always been a great fat lump even when I was little, but I still fancied myself in a pink gauze sticking-out skirt with matching wings.
Dad searched everywhere to buy one that would fit me for my birthday. He tried to find a specialist fairy shop. Then he had this brilliant idea. He decided to open his own fairy stall and call it Fairyland.
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