Lola Rose

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I knew Dad didn’t know where we were. How could he possibly track us down? But I was still so scared I had to put on my new furry denim jacket to stop myself shivering. ‘Come back, Mum!’ I whispered, over and over.

  She wasn’t back by half past ten. Maybe she’d had to walk a long way to find a pub with a cigarette machine – though she was wearing her strappy sandals with high stiletto heels so she couldn’t walk that far.

  I waited and waited, staring at the clock. I started nodding my head in time to the tick and tock until I went dizzy. I tried to read one of Mum’s magazines but the words jiggled about on the page and wouldn’t make sense.

  I got my scrapbook out and started cutting out a lovely picture of a girl rock star with long blonde hair and a jewelled navel and shiny brown legs in white leather boots. The floorboards gave a sudden creak and I cut off one of the boots by mistake. I tried to sellotape it back but it made her leg look wonky.

  My own legs felt wonky as I paced the flat. It was gone eleven now. The pubs closed then. So where was Mum?

  Something’s happened to her, said the Voice of Doom.

  Quarter past eleven.

  Half past eleven.

  I didn’t know what to do. Maybe Dad had stalked her. I imagined him laying into her and she went as limp as my paper scrap. I wanted to rush out and find her but I couldn’t leave Kendall on his own.

  I started to cry, knuckling my eyes. I pressed harder until it hurt. I told myself to stop the silly snivelling. I wasn’t a baby. I mustn’t panic. Of course Dad hadn’t found her. Maybe she’d simply got lost coming back from the pub? Mum had a hopeless sense of direction at the best of times, and now it was way after dark in a strange neighbourhood. Knowing Mum, she’d maybe even forgotten our address. She’d be stumbling round and round in her strappy sandals, cursing herself for being such a fool. She’d find us eventually, she’d be knocking at the door any minute, she’d rush in laughing . . .

  But she didn’t rush in.

  I listened for her footsteps. I opened the curtains and stared out at the street. I even left the door on the latch and rushed down to the corner just to see if there was any sign of her.

  Then I worried that someone might have slipped in and be after Kendall. I ran back and slammed the door shut and rushed into the bedroom. Kendall was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed, his arms and legs splayed out so he took up nearly all the space. There was no one hovering over him. I checked behind the door, the wardrobe, even under the bed. I knew I was acting crazy. I couldn’t help it.

  I went back into the kitchen and tried to make a cup of tea to calm myself. I was so jumpy I splashed cold water all down my front as I filled the kettle.

  It was midnight.

  Something must have happened to Mum.

  So what would happen to Kendall and me?

  I started crying again as the kettle boiled. I was making such a noise that I didn’t hear the door. I didn’t hear footsteps. Then Mum was in the kitchen, right in front of me.

  ‘Mum!’ I gasped, pouring water everywhere.

  ‘Watch out, you’ll scald yourself, you silly girl,’ said Mum. ‘Here, let me. I could do with a cuppa too.’

  ‘Where have you been? It’s gone midnight!’

  ‘So? Who am I, flipping Cinderella?’ said Mum, peering down at her sandals. ‘Are these glass slippers I see before me?’ She didn’t exactly slur her words but she was acting silly.

  ‘You’ve been down the pub drinking while I’ve been worrying myself sick wondering where you are!’

  Mum started laughing. ‘You sound so funny, Jayni, like you’re my mum!’

  ‘It’s not funny! I was so scared Dad had got you,’ I cried. I started trying to hit her, like Kendall in a tantrum.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey,’ said Mum. She caught hold of my wrists and pulled me close. She wrapped her arms round me. ‘I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t realize. You always act so grown up. But there’s no need to be scared about your dad, not any more. We’re never ever going to see him again. We’re new people now, remember, Lola Rose. I’m Lady Luck – and guess what, we’re in luck, darling. I’ve got a job!’

  ‘A job?’ What kind of a job could Mum have got at midnight, for goodness’ sake? For badness’ sake?

  ‘That’s why I was such ages, darling. I thought you’d be fast asleep, cuddled up with Kendall. I don’t want my girl worried – my lovely Lola Rose.’ Mum stroked my hair and gave me a big kiss. She was a little bit drunk but it didn’t matter. She never got really scary like Dad.

  ‘Tell me about this job, Mum,’ I said.

  ‘I’m going to be a bar girl, plus help out with meals at lunch time.’

  I relaxed against her. ‘You’ve got a job in the pub?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s only five minutes away, it’ll be brilliant. I walked in to buy my fags and I got talking to one of the guys behind the bar. He told me the manager needed more staff so I thought, OK, go for it, girl, so I did. I saw the manager, Barry – he’s ever so nice. He put me through my paces after he’d closed for the night. He says I’m a natural at pulling a good pint and I can remember any number of orders and I know all the different drinks. Well, I ought to, seeing as I grew up in a pub. I told Barry I didn’t have a clue how to work the till so he showed me and of course I cocked it up at first, went all panicky, but he didn’t shout, he just went over it again and again until I got it. He’s a lovely guy, Barry, so gentle and yet manly with it.’

  I went tense again. ‘You’re not going to start a thing with this Barry, are you?’

  ‘Don’t be so daft, darling. He’s got a wife, a nice woman, Lynn – she was kind too,’ Mum said, but with less enthusiasm. ‘Anyway, isn’t it great? Job sorted, just like that, when I only nipped out for a packet of fags.’ Mum lit up a cigarette triumphantly.

  ‘Will it mean you working evenings, Mum?’

  ‘You won’t really mind, will you? You’ve babysat for Kendall heaps of times before, no bother. And it won’t be every evening; my hours will vary. I don’t have to start till midday though, which will be great. I’ll be here to give you guys breakfast and get you off to school. Well, when you get a school. That’s next on the agenda!’

  I wished we didn’t have to go to any school. I hadn’t always got on at my old school. The lessons were OK. It just took me ages to find a friend. When my dad was in prison some of the other kids kept picking on me. Then when he came out Dad got into fights with their dads and then they started fighting me.

  If it was hard for me it would be hopeless for Kendall. He got trampled on in his reception class.

  ‘I’ve been to school, Mum,’ he said. ‘I don’t need to go again.’

  ‘Yeah, right, I’ve been to school too, Mum,’ I said. ‘Do we really have to go?’

  ‘Oh come on, Lola Rose, don’t be so daft. You’ve got to go to school, it’s the law. Now, there’s a nice primary down by the church. The kids wear a very smart uniform. We’ll nip down there tomorrow morning and get you both registered,’ said Mum.

  It wasn’t that simple. We didn’t even get to see the headteacher because we didn’t have a proper appointment. They told us we didn’t have a hope of getting into the school as all the classes were full. They had a long waiting list of children desperate to go there. You had to have a sibling already registered and live in the right catchment area and be a regular worshipper at the church.

  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ said Mum, as we walked out.

  ‘Hurray!’ said Kendall, skipping. ‘No school!’

  ‘Not that school, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to send you there anyway, all those poncy rules and regulations. We’ll find you another better school, no bother.’

  It was a lot of bother. Mum got a list of the local schools from the public library and started phoning round. They were nearly all full up. One said they could take Kendall but not me. Another said their reception class was too big already but they had room for me. The schools were miles apart so that was
no good. I’d have to collect Kendall after school now Mum was working down the pub.

  Larkrise Primary was right at the bottom of the list. Mum got straight through to the headteacher, Ms Balsam.

  ‘Yes, we’ve got places, Mrs Luck. Bring Lola Rose and Kendall along as soon as you like,’ she said.

  ‘There!’ said Mum triumphantly. ‘I knew our luck would last. Larkrise! Doesn’t that sound pretty, like a little country village school?’

  She walked us to Larkrise, holding our hands, singing, ‘Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the Larkrise Road’. She even started doing that little Wizard of Oz dance, pointing her feet and sashaying left and right. She tried to get us to do the dance too but I felt a fool and wouldn’t and Kendall tried hard but couldn’t.

  Even Mum stopped dancing when we turned into Larkrise Road. There were no larks rising. Only the scabbiest one-legged pigeons pecked at pizza crusts in the gutter. Big council flats towered above us in every direction, grey and bleak, water stains running down the brick as if every window eye was weeping.

  We hadn’t noticed the wind before but now it blew coldly in our faces and whirled the litter round our ankles. We had to pick our way carefully through sprinklings of chips and crumpled cans and dog mess. Mum gripped Kendall’s hand firmly, steering him this way and that. My throat went dry. I hugged myself tight inside my furry denim jacket. It looked like I was going to have to keep it on all day or else it would get nicked.

  The school looked exactly like a prison. It was an ugly, squat, yellow-brick building with barbed wire hooked along the top of the wall and two padlocks on the iron bars of the gates.

  ‘Is that to keep people out or the kids in?’ Mum said, wavering. She gave the gates a little rattle. ‘How do we get in, for God’s sake? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.’

  Kendall jumped up and pressed a button on the wall. The intercom crackled into action. We all took a step backwards.

  ‘Quick, let’s go,’ I said.

  Mum dithered.

  A mystery voice said, ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  Mum cleared her throat and spoke to the brick wall. ‘My name’s Victoria Luck. I’m here with my two children, Lola Rose and Kendall.’

  I couldn’t hear our new names enough times. It made us all feel better. Mum swept her hair out of her white leather collar. I folded my arms and stuck my fingers up inside my sleeves, stroking the fur lining. Kendall squared his tiny shoulders in his hip jacket.

  ‘Kendal mint cake!’ he said. He looked at us expectantly. He’d made the same joke a thousand and one times but we smiled all the same.

  ‘Do come in,’ said the voice. There was a little buzzing sound and a side gate opened all by itself.

  ‘It’s like that fairy tale. You know, Beauty and the Beast,’ I said.

  ‘You be Beauty. I’ll be the Beast,’ said Kendall, pulling what he hoped was a hideous face. He hobbled lopsidedly across the playground.

  ‘Will you stop that, Kendall! They’ll think you’ve got disabilities,’ said Mum. ‘Oh God, I’m dying for a fag. Do you think they’d mind?’

  ‘You can’t, Mum.’

  But when we were shown in Ms Balsam’s office we smelt a very familiar stale fug. I saw an overflowing ashtray on her desk. She saw me staring at it and emptied it quickly into her wastepaper basket.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry! Horrible habit,’ she said. ‘Never start smoking, Lola Rose. You’ll end up looking like a smoked haddock, just like me.’

  She did look a little fishy, her beady eyes magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses, and her long pale face was a bit yellowy. She wasn’t a bit pretty but she didn’t seem to care. She had a very posh voice but she didn’t act posh and her clothes certainly weren’t posh. She was wearing comfy old trousers and a creased jacket with bulging pockets.

  She saw Mum looking longingly at the ashtray and patted her pocket. ‘Shall we have a cigarette, Mrs Luck, and blow being a bad influence on the children?’ She took out a packet of cigarettes and a novelty lighter in the shape of a fish. You flicked the head and the flame flared inside the jaws.

  ‘Is that a shark?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘It doesn’t look quite fierce enough for a shark,’ said Ms Balsam.

  ‘I love sharks. I don’t care if they’re fierce. I’m not a bit scared of sharks, am I, Mum?’

  ‘Shh now, Kendall,’ said Mum.

  ‘No, it’s OK, I want to have a chat with both the children.’

  ‘I’ve seen lots of sharks. They’re my friends. But silly old Jayni’s scared of them!’

  Mum and I froze. But Ms Balsam acted like she hadn’t even noticed he’d called me by the wrong name. ‘Could that possibly be a shark peeping out of your super-cool jacket, Kendall?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes! It’s George the Second. I had another George but he ran away.’

  ‘Swam away?’ said Ms Balsam. She looked at me. ‘I gather you don’t care for sharks, Lola Rose?’

  ‘I can’t stick them,’ I said.

  ‘So what are you interested in?’

  I shifted in my seat.

  ‘What do you like doing best?’

  ‘My scrapbook.’

  Mum sighed. ‘No, Lola Rose, she means hobbies. Well, you like crayoning and I’ve shown you how to do a little dance routine, haven’t I?’

  ‘What do you put in your scrapbook?’ Ms Balsam persisted. ‘Do you cut out pictures of your favourite band and football team?’

  ‘I like cutting out all different bits and making it all look good on the page,’ I said.

  ‘Sometimes she goes a bit nuts and gives ladies animal heads and has a giant girl standing on the roof of a building,’ says Mum, shaking her head.

  ‘Collage!’ says Ms Balsam. ‘That’s what it’s called. Oh great, we’ll do some collage work in art. I’ll be taking you for art, Lola Rose. I’m helping out because we’re a few teachers short. Right, I just need to take down a few details. Which was your last school?’

  I swallowed. I tried to think of a name, any name. ‘It was . . . London Primary,’ I said stupidly.

  ‘London Park Primary,’ Mum said quickly.

  Ms Balsam wrote it down, but she frowned a little. Maybe we weren’t fooling her. I could just as easily have said Mickey Mouse Made-up School.

  ‘And what about Kendall? Was he in the reception class at London Park?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mum.

  ‘No!’ said Kendall, looking astonished. ‘I’m at Molesfield Infants and I’ve got a blazer with a mole and a field on the badge.’

  ‘Shut up, Kendall,’ I said. I looked at Ms Balsam. ‘He’s making it up. He does it all the time. Doesn’t he, Mum?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Mum helplessly, drawing deeply on her cigarette.

  Ms Balsam put down her pen and looked straight at me. ‘We all make things up when it’s necessary, Lola Rose. Or we simply keep quiet about things. I keep quiet about things. For instance, my lovely school might very well be closed down at the end of the school year because the silly inspectors feel we should be doing much better. We’re on emergency measures at the moment.’

  ‘Ah, I wondered how come you had spare places for the kids,’ said Mum. ‘So if the school’s going to close there’s not much point my two starting here, is there?’

  ‘I’m determined we’re not going to close,’ said Ms Balsam. ‘I’m very proud of my school and my staff and my wonderful pupils. They come from all different backgrounds and yet I like to feel we all fit together as a family. We’re used to refugee children and others from troubled backgrounds, Mrs Luck. We don’t always dot every ‘i’ and cross every ‘t’ in our paperwork because we’re too busy to pry into people’s private affairs.’ She picked up her form and tossed it in the wastepaper basket with the cigarette butts.

  Mum smiled and raised her eyebrows at me. ‘There now, isn’t that lucky?’ she said. ‘That’s very understanding of you, Ms Balsam. So, can I leave the kids with you today?’

&nbs
p; ‘Certainly. I’ll take them along to their classes – unless you’d like to come with Kendall to settle him in?’

  ‘Lola Rose might be better. Our Kenny—Kendall tends to play up a bit with me.’

  Mum gave us both a quick kiss and then dashed off with an airy wave before we could take in she was abandoning us. Kendall’s mouth wobbled, the corners turning tight down. I had to fight not to cry myself. It was OK for Mum. She didn’t have to stick it out at this scary new school with all these tough kids who would hate us because we were new and weird.

  But it wasn’t scary at all! Ms Balsam let me hold Kendall’s hand tight while she took us into the reception class. There were loads of little kids messing around finger painting, bashing bricks, kneading red dough and trooping in and out of a little playhouse. A big girl with long fair hair in a ponytail and dungarees was having a funny paintbrush fight with a scabby little boy with a bristly head.

  I thought she was an older sister like me but it turned out she was Ms Denby, the teacher. She gave Kendall a big smile as if she’d known him all her life. ‘Hello, darling. What’s your name, then?’

  Kendall swallowed and looked at me, scared to speak in case he said something wrong again.

  ‘His name’s Kendall,’ I announced.

  The scabby boy sniggered. A plump little girl with a topknot stuck her chin out. ‘I’m Kendall,’ she said.

  ‘Kendall’s a girl’s name,’ said Scabby. He laughed. The other boys did too.

  ‘It’s a girl’s name and a boy’s name. Didn’t you know that?’ said Ms Denby. ‘Welcome to our class, Kendall. What would you like to do? How about finger painting?’

  Kendall’s hand screwed itself up inside mine. He hates getting his hands dirty.

  ‘How about the dough?’ said Ms Denby.

  Kendall shuddered at the thought of getting it up his fingernails.

  ‘He wants to build a big tower of bricks,’ I suggested. I knew he should make a safe, boy’s choice.

  Kendall was staring at the playhouse. ‘I don’t want to do bricks,’ he said. ‘I want to go in that little house with George.’