Lola Rose

by Jacqueline Wilson

  Auntie Barbara had given her to me when I was born. Maybe Auntie Barbara looked like a giant Pinkie without her clothes.

  I clutched Pinkie tight.

  Auntie Barbara!

  I couldn’t remember her properly. I last saw her at Grandma’s funeral when I was younger than Kendall. Mum talked about her size so much she seemed like a character in a cartoon. It was weird remembering she was real.

  Would she help us? I knew Grandad would have nothing to do with us. But maybe Auntie Barbara was softer? She must like us a little bit if she sent us special teddies. She used to send books too, before we moved to the flats. I remembered a big book about an elephant and one about a little bear and a funny one about jelly with a hole in the pages. I’d loved those picture books but Kendall tore them all when he was a toddler. Auntie Barbara hadn’t sent us any presents for years. But maybe she simply didn’t have our address.

  I didn’t have her address. I couldn’t ask Mum. She’d go mad if she thought I was going begging to the sister she couldn’t stand. I wondered why Mum didn’t like her. Maybe Auntie Barbara had been really mean to her. But she wasn’t just Mum’s sister, she was my auntie. Aunties were meant to help you, weren’t they?

  Harpreet had heaps of aunties. They made a big fuss of her and invited her to tea and bought her special sweets and hair slides and bangles. Maybe my Auntie Barbara wouldn’t mind if I asked her to send a few fivers to tide us over until Mum could work. She must have quite a lot of money if she lived in Grandad’s pub.

  I couldn’t remember the name. It was some sort of fish. The Cod? No, that sounded stupid. The Salmon? That wasn’t right either. The Trout, that was it! And I knew the town, even if I didn’t know the street.

  I sat up in bed and rang Directory Enquiries on Mum’s mobile. I wrote the number down and then dialled it quickly before I could change my mind. The phone rang and rang. I hoped Grandad wouldn’t come to the phone. I was about to give up – but then someone answered. A woman.

  ‘The Trout. Can I help you? Though it’s after closing time—’

  ‘I’m sorry. I forgot it was so late. Can I speak to – to Barbara, please?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘Oh! Well, you don’t really know me but – but I think you’re my auntie.’

  ‘Oh, good lord! Is that Jayni?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh Jayni, how lovely that you phoned!’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not! I’ve been hoping and hoping you would all get in touch. What’s happened, Jayni? Are you all right?’

  ‘Well. Sort of. It’s just . . .’ I didn’t know where to start.

  ‘Let me have a word with your mum,’ said Auntie Barbara.

  ‘Well, that’s just it. She’s not here.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘In hospital.’

  ‘Oh God. Did your dad catch her then?’

  I sat up in bed, startled. How did Auntie Barbara know we’d run away?

  ‘No, she’s had to go to hospital to have a lump taken out. She said she’d come straight back but she didn’t. So we went to see her and she’s all sleepy but I think she’s all right. We’re back home now, Kenny and me, but we haven’t got any money left. I don’t know what we’re going to do for food. We’ve got some muesli but I don’t think Kenny will eat it. The bread’s gone mouldy so I was wondering if you could send us some money, Auntie Barbara, just for a few days. We’ll pay you back the minute Mum gets work. She doesn’t know I’m phoning and I’d be ever so grateful if you don’t tell Grandad because I know he doesn’t like us but I thought you might just be kind enough to—’

  ‘Jayni! Let me get a word in edgeways, sweetheart! Now calm down. I’m going to help, don’t worry. Hang on while I get a pen and paper. Then you can give me your address.’

  ‘Oh Auntie Barbara!’ I said, and I burst into tears. She sounded so nice.

  I cried so hard I could barely stammer out the address. Auntie Barbara repeated it back to me to make sure she’d got it right.

  ‘There now, Jayni, don’t cry, pet. It’s going to be all right. You can count on me. Now, have you got the door locked, you and Kenny? Then I should try to go to sleep now. Don’t worry any more. I’ll get everything sorted out, you’ll see.’

  So I went to sleep, clutching Pinkie to my chest, Kendall breathing softly by my side.

  Then Kendall woke me up, shaking my shoulder and tugging my hair.

  ‘Leave off, Kendall.’

  ‘There’s someone knocking at the door, Lola Rose! It’s the middle of the night!’

  ‘What? It’ll be someone for Steve and Andy. One of their mates will have been at a party.

  ‘They’re calling out for Jayni and Kenny.’ Kendall paused. ‘Is that still us?’

  ‘Oh help!’

  I flew to the window, thinking it was Dad. I saw a very large woman peering up at me in the moonlight, clutching great carrier bags. ‘Auntie Barbara!’

  I ran down the stairs, tripping and nearly falling in my eagerness. Miss Parker poked her head round her door. She had a hairnet pulled right down to her eyebrows.

  ‘I’m telling the housing people on you,’ she said. ‘Waking a body at all hours! It’s disgraceful.’

  ‘I’m sorry, really sorry, but it’s my auntie,’ I said, hurrying towards the front door.

  ‘I don’t care if it’s little green men from Mars, they shouldn’t come knocking in the middle of the night!’ said Miss Parker.

  I took no notice, fiddling with the bolts on the door. ‘Don’t go, Auntie Barbara, I’m coming!’ I called.

  I got the door open at last. Auntie Barbara dropped the bags and held out her arms to me. I fell against her.

  Whenever I hugged Mum hard she always teetered on her heels and said, ‘Careful, you’ll knock me over.’

  No one could knock Auntie Barbara over. She didn’t budge an inch. She stayed still, like a well-upholstered sofa, while I leant against her and cried on the big soft cushion of her chest.

  A small fist pummelled at my bottom.

  ‘Do we know her?’ Kendall asked.

  I stopped snivelling and stepped back, reaching for Kendall. ‘Of course we do! This is our auntie. Auntie Barbara, this is Kenny.’

  ‘I’m Kendall,’ he said.

  Auntie Barbara stooped, arms open. Kendall backed rapidly.

  ‘I don’t hug strange ladies,’ he said.

  ‘Kendall!’ I hissed.

  Auntie Barbara laughed. ‘Quite right, Kendall. And they don’t come any stranger than me.’

  She did look strange. She had long blonde hair, thick and soft, like Mum’s, but Auntie Barbara’s was really long. She wore it caught up and coiled and twisted into a bun at the top of her head, though little tendrils escaped and hung down like earrings. She had a very pretty face with Mum’s big blue eyes. She didn’t wear any make-up. Her skin was very pink as if she spent a lot of time scrubbing it. If you chopped Auntie Barbara off at the neck like one of those old hairstyling doll heads she’d win any beauty contest. But things started to go weird past her shoulders. There was just so much of her. She was the BIGGEST LADY I’d ever seen. She wasn’t just fat, she was vast, so massive she seemed a different species altogether.

  She wasn’t wibbly-wobbly like the lovely maid at the hotel. She looked like she was made of pink marble, a great monument. She was wearing a vast silk top in a wonderful deep purple, with a matching wrap-around skirt. It could have wrapped round Kendall and me a dozen times. Her toenails were painted purple too, shining in her silver sandals. I wondered at first how she could stretch down over her huge stomach to reach her toes, but she proved amazingly agile for such a large lady. She bounded up the stairs to our flat, swinging the great bags.

  Miss Parker watched, open-mouthed. ‘Who’s she when she’s at home – the Queen of Sheba?’

  Auntie Barbara laughed and gave her a regal wave. She had a great silver ring on either hand and a huge chunk of amber hung on a thic
k silver chain. It was easy enough to imagine an amber crown on top of her coiled hair.

  Kendall and I followed in her wake. Her bottom was enormous above us. Kendall’s eyes met mine. We struggled not to giggle.

  Steve and Andy peered down from their landing above, in little shortie Japanese dressing gowns. Auntie Barbara waved to them too. When we got inside our front door, Auntie Barbara said, ‘I wonder if they realized we could see right up their dressing gowns!’

  We could all giggle together.

  ‘Right, Jayni, where’s the kettle? I’m dying for a cup of tea. And biscuits.’

  ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got any.’

  ‘I have,’ said Auntie Barbara. She opened one of the carriers and brought out tea bags, chocolate Hobnobs, a walnut cake, fairy cakes, doughnuts, a multipack of sandwiches, bananas, apples and a giant bar of Cadbury’s chocolate. ‘I think we could all do with a bit of sustenance,’ she said, smiling. ‘I went to the all-night supermarket on the way.’

  ‘How did you know I like that chocolate, Auntie Barbara?’ I asked her, awed.

  ‘I like it,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘I’ve been known to eat a whole bar by myself.’

  ‘Not a giant bar?’

  ‘You bet a giant bar,’ said Auntie Barbara, bustling around making tea as if she’d lived in our flat all her life.

  ‘But aren’t you worried that—?’

  ‘That it’ll make me fat?’ said Auntie Barbara, she hooted with laughter. ‘Bit late in the day to start worrying!’

  She sat herself down on Mum’s sofa bed, filling it as if it was her own armchair. Kendall and I sat cross-legged in front of her. We had cups of tea too, and started on Auntie Barbara’s picnic. It tasted wonderful. Even Kendall ate heaps, properly too, swallowing the crusts on his sandwiches and eating the sponge as well as the icing on his fairy cake.

  Auntie Barbara ate the most though. It was plain she could out-eat anyone. She saw me watching every mouthful she took. ‘I’m a very bad example, Jayni,’ she said. ‘It’s very unhealthy to eat as much as me and get so terribly fat.’

  ‘Then why do you do it?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘Don’t be so rude, Kendall!’ I said, nudging him.

  ‘No, it’s a perfectly sensible question. Shame is, I haven’t got any answers. I eat because I’m greedy. I like food.’

  ‘I like food too,’ I said, biting my lip.

  ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m sure you won’t take after me,’ said Auntie Barbara, happily biting into a big éclair, cream oozing everywhere.

  ‘I don’t take after Mum,’ I said, reaching for an éclair too.

  ‘I don’t think you need take after anyone. You’re yourself. Unique. The one and only Jayni.’

  ‘She’s not Jayni,’ said Kendall.

  Auntie Barbara wiped the cream from her mouth. ‘Who is she then, Kenny? Whoops, sorry, Kendall.’

  ‘I call myself Lola Rose now,’ I said shyly. ‘And Kenny’s Kendall, like he said, and Mum’s Victoria Luck.’

  Auntie Barbara nodded. ‘Are these new names to stop your dad tracking you down?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because he came barging into my pub weeks ago, effing and blinding and generally doing his nut. He said your mum’s gone off with a footballer. Has she?’

  ‘No! She stopped seeing him ages and ages ago. No, we had to do a runner because my dad hit my mum, and then he went for me.’

  ‘My dad didn’t hit me. My dad said I’m his little champ,’ Kendall said, sticking his chin up. ‘He’s the big champ and I’m the little champ.’

  ‘Little chump, more like,’ I said.

  ‘You shut up, Lola Rose,’ said Kendall, clenching his fist.

  ‘I think Lola Rose is an absolutely lovely name,’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘Did your mum think that up?’

  ‘I chose it myself,’ I said proudly. ‘You won’t tell Dad, will you, Auntie Barbara?’

  ‘What do you think I am, daft?’ said Auntie Barbara. ‘I had a few sharp words with him.’

  ‘He didn’t hit you, did he?’

  ‘I’d like to see him try,’ said Auntie Barbara, flexing her big arms. ‘I don’t think any man would dare take me on. Even your grandad thought better of it once I’d got to a certain age. He had a really nasty temper too, just like your dad. He didn’t mellow in old age either. He was a crabby old beggar up until the day he died. In fact he died in mid rant, yelling at me because I was changing the beer barrels—’

  ‘So he’s dead, our grandad.’

  ‘A couple of years ago. I tried to let your mum know but she’d moved. She isn’t a girl for keeping in touch. We didn’t really get on when we were kids, your mum and me. We were so different, chalk and cheese. We had this awful row over something – and I got really mad at your mum. But that was long ago. I’m not mad at her now – and I’ve never been mad at you two. I’m so happy you phoned me, Jayni. Sorry, Lola Rose.’

  ‘How did you get here so quick? There aren’t any buses this early, are there?’

  ‘I drove, sweetheart. I’ll pop back down to the car in a minute and get my case.’

  ‘Your case?’

  ‘I’m staying to look after you, darling. Until your mum gets better. I’ve got it all organized at the pub. I’ve got this lovely Australian couple working as bar staff, and they’re going to manage things for me till I get back. You didn’t think I’d just lob a few pounds and a packet of biscuits at you and then disappear? I’m your auntie. You’re family.

  ‘I’ll go and see your mum this morning,’ said Auntie Barbara.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ I said.

  ‘And me,’ said Kendall.

  ‘Will it upset him?’ Auntie Barbara mouthed.

  ‘Probably,’ I mouthed back.

  I was worried Mum might be upset. Upset with me for calling Auntie Barbara.

  We went to the hospital together, Auntie Barbara striding confidently down the ward, Kendall and I scuttling along behind her.

  Mum was lying on her back, looking towards us. Her face screwed up. ‘Oh Gawd, what are you doing here?’ she said rudely.

  Auntie Barbara blinked – but then she laughed cheerfully. ‘Good to see you too, Nikki,’ she said, and bent down to give her a kiss.

  I was sure Mum would wriggle away. She didn’t. Her good arm hooked round Auntie Barbara’s neck and she hugged her hard.

  ‘So how are you?’ said Auntie Barbara.

  ‘Fine!’ said Mum. She still had great wads of bandage on her breast and under her arm. Her face was ghostly pale without her make-up and her hair hung in limp strings.

  She pulled me close for a hug too, whispering in my ear. ‘Has Jake been in touch?’

  ‘No,’ I said wretchedly.

  Mum sighed as if it was somehow my fault.

  ‘Lola Rose has been a little star, Nik. She’s been so responsible and grown up.’

  ‘Yeah yeah yeah. Takes after you then, doesn’t she?’ said Mum.

  ‘Kendall’s been brilliant too,’ said Auntie Barbara. She was laying it on a bit thick now. Kendall had been a right pain.

  Mum just gave a little snort.

  ‘Mum?’ said Kendall. He climbed up onto the bed, wanting to see her face. He frowned at her. ‘You look horrid, Mum.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ Mum muttered, pushing him away. ‘Get off the bed, Kendall, I don’t want you breathing all over me.’

  Kendall slid off the bed, tears in his eyes. He looked at me to make it better. I knew he hadn’t meant to be unkind. He was worried that Mum still looked so ill.

  ‘I don’t like you,’ he said, his lip trembling.

  ‘I don’t like you either,’ Mum said, shutting her eyes.

  ‘I don’t want you for my mum any more,’ Kendall said, tears spilling. ‘I want Auntie Barbara.’

  I covered his mouth up quick. ‘He doesn’t mean it, Mum,’ I said hurriedly.

  Maybe he did. He thought Auntie Barbara was wonderful. She knew all about sharks for a st
art. She’d been on holiday to America and seen the island where they made that old movie Jaws, the one where the shark chews people’s legs off when they’re swimming in the shallows.

  Auntie Barbara got it out the video shop for Kendall that evening. He watched it sitting on her vast lap, George clutched to his chest. Auntie Barbara was worried that he might be frightened but he didn’t seem to mind a bit. He only got upset at the end, when the shark died.

  I couldn’t watch any of it. I sat cross-legged with my back to the telly, working on my scrapbook, a pile of magazines by my side. I was doing a ‘Favourite Food’ page for our family – Mum, Auntie Barbara, Kendall and me. It was difficult to balance the page. Auntie Barbara had heaps and heaps and heaps, I had lots, Mum had hardly anything if you didn’t count wine and ciggies, and Kendall just had a red ice lolly.

  ‘Did you see sharks when you were on holiday, Auntie Barbara?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘Not swimming in the sea. I saw whales though, lots of humpback whales. I’ve got photos at home, I’ll show you sometime. I went out in this special whale-watching boat. The whales like to eat plankton so they blow out this sticky stuff and all the little fishy things get stuck and then the whales come along and go chomp chomp chomp.’ Auntie Barbara mimed it for us. Kendall did his best to imitate her and blew sticky stuff out of his nose by mistake.

  ‘Have you ever been to Disneyland, Auntie Barbara?’ I asked. ‘My friend Harpreet has and she says it’s the best place in the whole world.’

  ‘I haven’t ever been there. Still, maybe we could go some day?’

  ‘You mean, you and Kendall and me? And Mum? But how could we afford it? The lottery money’s all gone.’

  ‘I could treat us,’ said Auntie Barbara.

  ‘Are you rich?’ Kendall asked excitedly.

  ‘Not rich. But I’m reasonably well off, I suppose, now your grandad’s passed the pub on to me. I don’t spend much on clothes and posh cars and stuff, but I do like to go on good holidays. I went to Thailand last year. It’s a fantastic country and lovely lovely people. I’ve got this smashing Thai family who do the meals in my pub now. Have you kids ever had Thai food?’