Clean Break

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘You didn’t actually say you promised. Say it, Dad. Please say it.’

  ‘OK, OK. I promise.’

  ‘You promise you’ll stay for ever?’

  ‘I promise I’ll stay for ever,’ he said. ‘Now give me a kiss night-night. You never know, you might just transform me from a loathsome toad into a handsome prince.’

  ‘You’re a handsome prince already, silly,’ I said, kissing him.

  I was wrong. He was a total toad.

  I woke early, my heart beating fast. I slid out of bed and crept across the carpet, not wanting to wake Vita or Maxie. I padded down the hall. I listened outside Mum and Dad’s door. I heard muffled sobs. I ran into the bedroom. Mum was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking backwards and forwards, her hands tugging her hair.

  Dad had broken his promise. He’d gone already.

  3

  DAD LEFT ME a note. I can’t quite remember what it said. Something about not wanting to upset me. He’d drawn a little toad where he signed his name. He’d even taken the trouble to colour it with Maxie’s new felt tips.

  I didn’t want the others to see it. I smoothed it out carefully and tucked it underneath my jumper, next to my heart. The paper tickled a little but I didn’t mind.

  When I was helping Gran mash the potatoes for our cold turkey lunch she suddenly cocked her head on one side.

  ‘What’s that crackling, Em?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said quickly, mashing harder.

  ‘You’ve got something stuffed down your jumper! For heaven’s sake, you’re not padding your vest with tissues and pretending you’ve got breasts, are you?’

  ‘No!’ I said, folding my arms across my chest and blushing violently.

  ‘Don’t be so daft, Em,’ said Gran, her fingers scrabbling under my jumper.

  ‘Don’t! Get off me!’ I said.

  I couldn’t stop her. She felt the letter. It tore right across as she dragged it free.

  ‘My letter! Now look what you’ve done,’ I shouted. ‘You’ve torn it.’

  Gran was holding the letter at arm’s length, as if it was dripping with something disgusting. ‘I’m glad I’ve torn it!’ She said. ‘I’m going to tear it into tiny shreds.’ She tore and tore, little particles of paper flying everywhere.

  I couldn’t grab it back in time. I watched, weeping.

  ‘You can stop that silly noise too. We’ve had enough weeping and wailing going on, enough tears to sink the Titanic. If you ask me I think you should be shedding tears of joy to be rid of that two-timing conniving Mr Smoothie. I never liked him right from the day your mother brought him home. I said as much too, but she didn’t listen to me. She never does. No one in this house ever listens to what I say.’

  I put my hands over my ears to show her I wasn’t listening either. I certainly wasn’t going to help her mash the potatoes. It didn’t matter anyway. None of us ate much lunch. Even Vita turned up her nose at potatoes. She didn’t eat anything at all. Maxie just had pudding. Mum drank a whole bottle of wine but had nothing to eat.

  I said I wasn’t hungry either and went without. Then halfway through the long long afternoon I crept into the kitchen and started pulling little shreds off the turkey. Once I’d started I couldn’t stop. I tore at the turkey, tearing off great strips, so hungry I wanted to gnaw at it like a dog.

  I heard footsteps and leaped back, guiltily wiping my greasy hands on my skirt, waiting for Gran to give me another lecture on my greediness. It wasn’t Gran, thank goodness, it was Vita. She had Dancer on her hand, the brown fur reaching all the way up her bony little arm almost to her armpit.

  ‘Hi, you,’ I said, tearing off another piece of turkey.

  Vita’s eyes widened. ‘Gran will go bananas if she sees you doing that!’

  ‘I don’t care. I hate Gran,’ I said fiercely.

  Vita blinked. Then she wiped her nose with one of Dancer’s antlers. ‘I hate her too,’ she said.

  ‘No you don’t,’ I said. ‘You like her heaps. You’re her favourite. She’s always giving you treats and letting you get away with stuff, you know she is.’

  ‘She’s horrid though. She says Dad’s gone away with another lady and he’s not ever coming back. She’s telling lies, isn’t she, Em?’

  ‘What did Mum say?’

  ‘She just cried more and said she didn’t know. She told me to go away because she’s got an awful headache. Maxie says he’s got a headache too. He’s mad, he’s gone to bed and it’s only the afternoon. It’s gone all weird and horrid and upside down. Gran told me to play a game but I want to play games with Dad.’ Tears started dribbling down Vita’s cheeks. ‘Em, is he coming back?’

  ‘Of course he is. In a bit. He wouldn’t go away for good without telling us. He’s got to come back to see us. Even my dad came back to see me when I was little before Mum told him to get lost.’

  ‘I can’t remember your dad,’ said Vita.

  ‘I can’t remember him either,’ I said. It wasn’t quite true. I still had nightmares about him. I shivered, and stuffed more turkey in my mouth.

  Vita looked at me. ‘Our dad won’t go scary like yours, will he?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not, Vita. Dad couldn’t ever be scary, you know that.’

  ‘And he will come back?’ Vita said, Dancer drooping down her arm.

  I wiped my hands properly and then commandeered Dancer, fitting her over my fist.

  ‘Hello, Princess Vita,’ I made her say, copying Dad’s voice for her, all funny and fruity. ‘Now listen here, my dear, no one knows your dad better than I do. I say he’s absolutely definitely coming back.’

  ‘Now? Today?’

  ‘Maybe not today.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Mm, perhaps. Oooh, just look at that scrumptious plate of turkey! I’m feeling very peckish, Princess Vita. Hint hint!’

  Vita laughed and pretended to feed her, but she wouldn’t be distracted. ‘Dad will come back soon, won’t he?’

  ‘Yes, yes, my dear, Dad won’t let us down. He’ll come back as soon as he can. Tell you what, let’s use a little turkey magic.’ I made Dancer circle the turkey plate, prancing round and round, while I pulled more meat off with my free hand.

  ‘I don’t want to eat any turkey,’ said Vita.

  ‘No, no, I’m just looking for— Aha!’ I scrabbled away at the turkey, tugging at a little twig of bone. I wriggled it free and then gave it to Dancer. She held it out triumphantly.

  ‘What have I found, Princess Vita?’ said Dancer.

  ‘A bone?’ said Vita doubtfully.

  ‘A wishbone! You take one end, hooking your little finger round it, OK? Princess Emerald will take hold of the other end. Then when I say so, you both pull, and the Princess who gets the longest piece of bone has a magic wish.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ wailed Vita, poking Dancer as if she was a real person. ‘Em’s bigger and stronger than me so she’ll get the turkey wish.’

  ‘What will she wish for, Princess Poke-and-Prod?’ said Dancer.

  Vita thought about it. ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘But I still wish I could do the wishing.’

  ‘That’s one wish wasted already,’ said Dancer. ‘Now quit prodding me, missy, or I’ll stick my antlers up your nose.’

  Vita started giggling.

  ‘Come on, Vita, pull the wishbone,’ I said, thrusting it at her.

  She pulled. I pulled. I twisted the wishbone a little, applying more pressure. I knew we were going to wish identical wishes but I was just like Vita. I wanted to make the wish.

  The wishbone shattered. Vita was left holding a tiny stump. I had almost the whole V-shaped bone in my hand.

  ‘Ooh!’ said Vita. ‘Go on, then, Em. Wish. Wish it hard.’

  I hung onto the wishbone, and shut my eyes. I wished for Dad to come back. I wished it so fiercely I felt my head would burst. I wished and wished and wished.

  ‘Em, you’ve gone purple,’ said Vita.

  I opened my eyes and brea
thed out, exhausted.

  ‘Will it come true?’ said Vita, glancing at the door, expecting Dad to bound in right that minute.

  ‘It will come true, but maybe not for a little while,’ I said.

  Vita sighed. She looked at Dancer. ‘Can’t you make it come true, as quick as quick?’ she said.

  I found I was looking at Dancer too, even though my own hand was up inside her. She nodded her head. She shook her head. Nod, shake, nod, shake.

  ‘Quick as quick or slow as slow,’ she said enigmatically. ‘Quick quick slow slow, quick quick slow, like the ballroom dance, my dear.’

  I seized Vita and quick-stepped her round her kitchen, Dancer holding her round the waist.

  It wasn’t quick quick. We waited the day after Boxing Day. Then the day after and the day after and the day after and the day after. Mum got up off her bed and went out looking for him – all over his favourite places in town, even up to London and back. She phoned his mobile again and again but it was always switched off. She tried phoning all his mates. She went down to the Pink Palace where they both worked even though she knew it was all shut up until after the New Year. She wandered round and round all day, wearing the silver sandals, as if she thought they might walk her directly to Dad. Her feet were rubbed raw by the time she limped home and she’d lost the tip of one stiletto heel.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mum, you can take them to Mr Minit,’ I said. ‘They’re not badly broken.’

  ‘Yes they are,’ said Vita. ‘Can I have them for dressing up, Mum?’

  ‘I want them, Mum,’ said Maxie, sticking his fat little feet inside the sandals and shuffling across the room.

  ‘Get them shoes off, sharpish,’ said Gran. ‘Boys don’t wear high heels. I don’t know why you’re all fighting over them. They belong in the bin with all the rest of the trash.’

  ‘They’re beautiful shoes,’ said Mum, snatching them from Maxie and cradling them as if they were silver dolls.

  ‘Yes, cost a fortune, like the rest of Frankie’s ridiculous Christmas presents. Whose fortune, Julie? I bet he paid with your joint credit card. You’ll be paying off your own presents until next Christmas. And what about all the money I’ve lent him, my savings from slaving in that blooming office? What about the kids? Is he just going to walk out of their lives without paying a penny in child support? You’re rubbish at choosing men – one violent nutter, one sleazy charmer—’

  ‘You’re rubbish at men too, Gran,’ I said furiously, because she was making Mum cry. ‘Grandad cleared off ages ago.’

  ‘Good riddance! Catch me making a fool of myself a second time,’ said Gran, sniffing. ‘I don’t know why you’re in such a state, Julie. You knew what he was like. Why do you have to let him hurt you so? You need to toughen up a bit.’

  Gran seized hold of Mum as if she was personally going to shake some sense into her – but then her arms went right round her. Gran held Mum and rocked her. Mum howled. Vita and Maxie went and joined in the hug too.

  I stayed separate, picking up Dancer from the floor. We went out into the kitchen together and had a sneaky snack from the larder. Dancer decided to try a raisin or two out of the packet, and then she couldn’t seem to stop. She liked the icing sugar too, because it reminded her of snow.

  ‘Snow snow, thick thick snow,’ I murmured, doing the wishing dance round and round the kitchen table.

  Then I heard a mobile ringing. It was Mum’s mobile in her handbag, where she’d dropped it in the hallway. I dashed to answer it. It could be any of Mum’s mates but I knew it was Dad, I just knew it.

  ‘Hello, Julie?’

  ‘Oh, Dad, Dad, Dad!’ I said.

  ‘Em! Hello, sweetheart! How are you, babe? How’s everyone? Can I speak to your mum in a minute?’

  Mum was already in the hall, on her knees beside me, trying to snatch the phone away. I hung onto it.

  ‘Dad, when are you coming back?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, I’m planning to come and see you New Year’s Day. I thought we could have a fun day out, you, me, Vita and Maxie, right?’

  ‘Oh yes, please!’ I said.

  ‘What? Is he really coming back? Give me my phone, Em!’ Mum said. She prised my fingers off it and listened herself.

  ‘I want to talk to Dad! I must talk to him. I’ve got heaps and heaps to tell him,’ said Vita.

  ‘And me! I want to! Let me!’ Maxie shrieked.

  Mum sat still, staring straight ahead as if she was looking right through us.

  ‘Mum?’ I whispered.

  She didn’t seem to hear. She didn’t react to Vita’s imperious commands or Maxie’s whines. She just knelt there, as if she was praying. Then she suddenly pressed the little red button, cutting Dad off.

  ‘Mum!’ we wailed.

  ‘Good for you, Julie,’ said Gran, watching from the living-room doorway.

  ‘What is it, Mum? Why won’t you speak to Dad?’ I asked, stunned.

  ‘You’re the meanest mum ever. You didn’t let me even say hello!’ Vita wept.

  ‘I want Dad!’ Maxie bawled. ‘Make Dad come back, Mum!’

  ‘Stop it!’ said Mum. She staggered to her feet. ‘I can’t make Dad come back.’

  ‘He said he’s coming on New Year’s Day. He said it, he really did. He’s coming back then,’ I said.

  ‘No. He’s coming to take you three out. But he’s not coming back to live here. He’s making that quite plain. He’s still with this woman.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Mum.’

  ‘Yes I do. I heard her whispering to him,’ said Mum.

  ‘He’s still going to take us out though?’ said Vita.

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose so,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh whoopee!’ said Vita tactlessly. She started dancing up and down the hall.

  ‘Dad’s coming, Dad’s coming!’ Maxie yelled, galloping after her.

  Mum stared at them. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. Most of me wanted to dance too, because I so wanted a day out with Dad, no matter what. But he clearly wasn’t inviting Mum. It would be so awful for her stuck at home with Gran.

  I knew I should tell her that I didn’t want to go. He wasn’t even my own dad after all. But I couldn’t bear to miss seeing him.

  ‘I’ll have to go to look after Vita and Maxie,’ I said. ‘You know what they’re like, how silly they get. Dad’s not always good at getting them to behave.’

  Mum looked at me. She didn’t say anything. The look was enough.

  Gran seized hold of Vita and Maxie, giving them both a little shake. ‘Stop that silly shrieking,’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t go getting your hopes up. I don’t think your dad will even bother to turn up.’

  It looked as if Gran was right.

  I was up very very very early on January 1st. We hadn’t stayed up on New Year’s Eve. Even Mum and Gran went to bed way before twelve. Last New Year’s Eve we’d had a little party and Dad had bought a bottle of champagne. He gave me a tiny glassful and Vita and Maxie a few sips. Maxie rolled round the carpet afterwards, playing at being drunk, while Vita and I danced with Dad.

  I tossed and turned half the night, thinking about Dad drinking and dancing with this horrible Sarah instead of us. I decided that Vita and Maxie and I had to be on our very best behaviour so that Dad would realize he couldn’t bear to be without us.

  I had a bath and washed my hair and then brushed it all out very carefully. I hoped Mum would do plaits at the sides and tie a velvet ribbon on for me, so that Dad would call me his pretty princess. I put on my best party outfit, a tight sparkly top and velvet trousers.

  Then I looked in the mirror and took them off again. The top was way too tight now and the seams of the velvet trousers were nearly splitting. I didn’t look like a pretty princess, I looked more like a pot-bellied pig. I stood in my knickers, sorting through all the clothes in my wardrobe, nearly weeping. Maxie stayed huddled up in his bear cave but Vita woke up and watched me.

  ‘Put something on, Em,’ she said.


  ‘I haven’t got anything,’ I snivelled. ‘All my clothes look rubbish. Correction. I look rubbish.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we all know that,’ said Vita. She stretched smugly. ‘I’m going to wear my disco-dancing queen outfit.’

  I glared at her. Dad bought Vita this ultra-tight sparkly fancy-dress outfit for her last birthday. It had a halter top and low-slung trousers. They showed off Vita’s tiny waist and totally flat stomach.

  Vita was obviously thinking this too. ‘I’m going to draw a special tummy tattoo with felt tips.’

  ‘Not my felt tips,’ Maxie mumbled from under his covers. ‘I’m going to wear my cowboy outfit with Dad’s cowboy boots. He left them in his wardrobe – I looked.’

  ‘You can’t wear Dad’s boots, you’ll fall over,’ I said.

  ‘Me can, me can, me can,’ Maxie insisted.

  ‘Quit that baby talk, Maxie, you’re pathetic,’ I said.

  I tried on every single outfit in my wardrobe but they all looked awful. I seemed to have expanded horrifically overnight. I ended up wearing my Miss Kitty nightie over my loosest jeans. I hoped it looked like a smock top. I wondered about borrowing a pair of Mum’s heels seeing as Maxie was helping himself to Dad’s cowboy boots.

  ‘For pity’s sake, you look like a circus,’ said Gran, when we came down to the kitchen. She was making our usual holiday breakfast – boiled eggs and soldiers. ‘You needn’t think you’re going out like that. Take those ludicrous boots back at once, Maxie. Vita, you look like a little tart, take that horrible outfit off. And what are you playing at, Em, wearing your nightie? You’re old enough to know better. You should set your little brother and sister an example, not egg them on all the time.’

  ‘Egg, egg, egg!’ Maxie shouted, bashing the top of his boiled egg so hard that yolk spurted everywhere.

  ‘I don’t!’ I said, taking Maxie’s spoon away. ‘That’s so mean, Gran. I try to make Vita and Maxie behave, don’t I, Mum?’

  Mum was sitting at the kitchen table sipping black coffee and smoking. She’d got up even earlier than me. She was in her prettiest clothes, a fluffy blue sweater and her embroidered jeans. She’d even painted her toenails silver to match her sandals.