Candyfloss

by Jacqueline Wilson

  13

  I WALKED INTO the café. I knew at once that something strange had happened. We didn’t have any new customers, but Billy the Chip, Old Ron and Miss Davis were all sitting at the same table. They weren’t drinking tea. They were drinking from dinky little glasses, filling them from a big green bottle. Champagne!

  Dad had a glassful too. He raised his glass at me, and then nearly spilled his champagne when he saw what I was wearing.

  ‘Oh Floss, what has that woman done to you! Here, darling, come and have your first weeny little sip of champagne.’

  ‘What are we celebrating, Dad?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s our dear old Billy. He’s the one who’s celebrating!’ said Dad, raising his glass to Billy the Chip.

  ‘Is it your birthday, Mr Chip?’ I asked, taking a small sip out of Dad’s glass. The bubbles fizzed up my nose and made me giggle.

  ‘You can’t give alcoholic liquor to the child. Look at her, she’s drunk already!’ said Miss Davis.

  ‘Oh liven up, you old biddy. It would do you good to get drunk yourself for once,’ said Old Ron.

  ‘It’s not my birthday, sweetheart,’ said Billy the Chip. ‘But it feels like it. I backed Third Time Lucky in the four thirty at Doncaster – a fifty-to-one outsider, no less – and guess what, the darling little filly grew wings and flew home, first past the finishing post!’

  ‘Oh well done!’ I said, clapping my hands. ‘Oh Dad, did you have a bet too?’

  ‘I thought I was being so sensible,’ said Dad, shaking his head. ‘Still, I’m thrilled for Billy, and very grateful too.’

  ‘It’s me that should be grateful to little Flossie here. I’ll buy you a big dolly or teddy for a belated birthday present – and do your dad a little favour into the bargain.’

  ‘Mr Chip’s doing us a great big favour, Floss,’ said Dad, sipping champagne. He took my cap off and ruffled my curls back into place. ‘There! Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t really care for the trendy outfit on you, pet.’

  ‘I hate it, Dad. I didn’t want her to buy it for me. Don’t worry, I won’t ever ever ever wear it again. But what’s the big favour?’

  ‘Well, you know the whole sad situation about the café—’ Dad started.

  ‘Oh Dad, oh Dad! Is Mr Chip going to give you some of his winnings so we can keep the café?’ I burst out.

  ‘Of course not, Floss! We owe far too much. No, I’m afraid we’ve got to go by Monday week. But I’ve got somewhere to go now. And I’ve got a job for the next few weeks!’ Dad beamed at Billy the Chip. ‘It’s so good of you, Billy. You’re a great mate.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, Charlie. You’re the one doing me a favour, taking over the van and keeping an eye on my gaff while I’m off gallivanting.’ Billy the Chip nodded at me. ‘I’m off to Australia, young Floss. I’m going to spend my winnings on a ticket to go and see my boy. I can’t wait!’

  ‘Isn’t that great, Floss! You can travel with Billy, keep each other company.’

  ‘I’m staying with you, Dad,’ I said firmly, though inside I was as wobbly as a jelly.

  ‘No, Floss, that’s completely mad and we both know it.’

  ‘Then I’m completely mad,’ I said, pulling a funny face.

  They all chuckled, while Dad shook his head.

  ‘So you’re going to run Mr Chip’s chip van, Dad?’

  ‘That’s right, little darling.’

  ‘And is that where we’re going to live . . . in the chip van?’ I said. I tried to say it casually, but my voice came out all squeaky as I said it.

  Dad burst out laughing. Billy the Chip laughed too, his pale potato face flushing pink. Old Ron roared. Even Miss Davis chirruped and cooed, sounding like her birdy friends.

  ‘It might be a bit of a squash, sweetheart,’ said Billy the Chip. ‘I don’t think you could squeeze even your little bed inside my old van. No, you and your dad can stay at my house. You can be my house-sitters – and feed my cats too. Your dad says you like cats. Is that right, Flossie?’

  ‘Yes, especially little skinny black ones,’ I said wistfully.

  Dad wouldn’t let me have any more champagne, but he poured lemonade into a special glass for me so that I could join in the party too.

  ‘I’m a bit peckish with all the excitement,’ said Billy the Chip. ‘How about a chip butty, Charlie?’

  ‘They’re on the house, pal,’ said Dad. ‘Hey, little Floss, come and be my Number One Kitchen Assistant.’

  When we were out in the kitchen and Dad had set the chips sizzling, he bent down till our faces were on a level and cupped my cheeks with his big hands.

  ‘Are you sure you’re serious about staying with me, darling? I truly think you’d be so much better off joining up with your mum. Billy’s offer is a godsend but he’s only going for a month. He says we can still stay at his place after he comes back but that doesn’t seem very fair. I’ve no idea what his house is like, though I shouldn’t think it’s very big.’

  ‘It’ll be bigger than a cardboard box, Dad,’ I said. ‘I’m staying.’

  Dad laughed, but his eyes went all watery. ‘You’re a great little kid, our Floss,’ he said. ‘So, we’ll have to get your toys all packed up again. We’ll take your swing with us too. Let’s hope we can tie it up in Billy’s garden somewhere, though I can’t promise. Run and have a little swing now, sweetie, make the most of it. I’ll call you when the chips are done.’

  I went into the back yard even though I didn’t really feel like swinging. I felt as if I’d been on a giant swing for far too long as it was. I was dizzy with all the changes in my life. Rose was wrong. All the changes that had happened so far had been horrible. She’d got her good luck signs wrong too. My lovely little lucky black cat had sloped off to live somewhere else. She probably hadn’t been snacking on the plates of tuna. I was fattening up that ginger tom, or a stray squirrel or fox was licking its chops and coming back for more at this newly opened animal annexe to the café.

  I leaned over the swing seat, moodily propelling myself backwards and forwards with my toe-tips. The seat was hard against my tummy. I hung my head right down, staring at the scrubby grass. I sent messages through the earth all the way down to Australia.

  ‘I miss you so, Mum,’ I whispered.

  I shut my eyes and thought about the airline ticket. Everyone thought I was mad not to go to Australia, even Dad. He’d be all right now. He had a job and a place to live. It wasn’t as if I’d be leaving him for ever. In five months I’d be back.

  I could have my own bedroom in Australia, not a camp bed in a corner of some funny old man’s house. I could have fresh clean comfy clothes, not creased smelly stuff or embarrassing designer denim. I could make new friends and I could be a proper friend back. I could play on the beaches and swim in the sea, I could go into the bush and see all the animals, jump with the kangaroos, cuddle the koalas . . .

  ‘Mew!’

  I opened my eyes. Lucky was sitting right in front of me, her green eyes shining, her little mouth open wide.

  ‘Mew mew mew!’ she said, for all the world as if she was saying hello.

  ‘Oh Lucky!’ I nearly fell right off the swing, onto my head. I caught hold of the rope, wriggled free and then bent down in front of Lucky, holding out my hand.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ I whispered. ‘You’ve come back!’

  ‘Mew!’ she said, padding softly towards me until her lovely little head was right by my palm. She let me tickle her chin, arching her neck and stretching her whole body. She wasn’t quite as skinny now, and her fur seemed softer and thicker.

  ‘Have you been eating all the food I’ve left for you?’

  Lucky gazed at me with her beautiful emerald eyes, a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know! expression on her face.

  ‘Would you like something to eat now? Some nice brown slurpy slimy specially bought cat food?’

  ‘Mew,’ said Lucky. It was a definite yes.

  ‘So what am I going to do? If I go and get your food will
you promise promise promise to stay here? Or will you come indoors with me? We’ve got a lovely café with lots of milk. Won’t you come and see it while we still live here? Please?’

  Lucky stretched, considering. Then she leaned against me docilely. I slipped my hands gently round her. This time she let me lift her up, her whole body relaxed.

  ‘Oh Lucky, Lucky, Lucky,’ I said, rubbing my cheek against her silky fur. Then I walked very carefully into the house, Lucky clasped to my chest.

  Dad was concentrating on lifting the golden chips out of the sizzling pan. ‘Good swing, sweetheart?’ he said.

  ‘Yep. Dad, look!’

  Dad looked – and nearly dropped the chips. ‘Oh Floss, your little cat! She’s come back!’

  ‘She doesn’t mind coming in this time, does she, Dad? She wants her tea!’

  ‘OK, you give her something to eat while I make us all chip butties.’

  I had to put Lucky down to fill one little bowl with cat food and another with water. I was worried she’d try to scoot straight out of the back door but she waited patiently, licking her lips at the smell of the food.

  ‘Eat up, little Lucky,’ I said.

  ‘You eat up too, little Floss,’ said Dad, giving me a chip butty.

  Dad went off with a big plateful of butties for Billy the Chip and Old Ron and Miss Davis. I stayed in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged beside Lucky. When we’d both finished eating she went to the back door, looking at me expectantly.

  ‘You want to go away already?’ I said. ‘Look, I know this is a café, but you don’t have to rush off the minute you’ve finished your meal.’

  Lucky took no notice. She lifted one paw, pointing it at the door as if she could zap it open by magic.

  ‘OK,’ I said, sighing. ‘But you’ll come back? Promise?’

  I opened the door. Lucky shot out . . . to the nearest bush. She squatted in the earth, concentrated, then carefully scattered earth with her paws, covering everything up.

  ‘Did you just want to go to the toilet?’ I said.

  Lucky looked at me coyly, as if she didn’t really want to talk about it. She let me pick her up and carry her back indoors. I showed her to Billy the Chip and Old Ron and Miss Davis.

  ‘There we go! A lucky black cat. This is a day and a half all right,’ said Billy the Chip. He smacked his lips appreciatively after eating his last bite of butty. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Charlie. You make tip-top chips. I’ve been in the business all my life, and my dad before me, but my chips pale into insignificance beside yours.’

  ‘When’s my luck going to change, then?’ said Old Ron. ‘Here, Flossie, let’s have a stroke of that little cat and see if some of her luck will rub off on me.’

  I let him stroke Lucky a few times with his gnarled old fingers.

  ‘Would you like a stroke too, Miss Davis?’ I said, out of politeness.

  ‘I’m not very keen on pussycats. They’re bird killers,’ said Miss Davis, but she reached out and gingerly touched the tip of Lucky’s tail with one finger. ‘Don’t you go near any of my pigeons, little cat.’

  ‘You’ve fattened those pesky birds up so much I should think Flossie’s little moggy would turn tail and run for her life if they flew anywhere near her,’ said Old Ron.

  ‘She isn’t Flossie’s cat,’ Dad said gently. ‘She’s just a visitor.’

  ‘She wants to stay, Dad. Look at her!’ I said.

  Lucky was still snuggled up in my arms, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder. If I carefully turned my head to one side I could see her expression. She was smiling like the Cheshire cat in Alice.

  ‘Well, we’ll see if she wants to stick around this time.’

  ‘She will, she will!’

  ‘Uh-uh, hang on. Then we have to go round the neighbourhood, making sure no one’s lost a cat. We’ll ask at the police station too.’

  ‘But if no one’s reported her missing, can we keep her then, Dad? Please?’

  ‘Well, we’re not going to be here, are we, sweetheart,’ Dad said sadly.

  ‘You can keep her round at my place. I’ve got two cats, Whisky and Soda. One more won’t make any difference. A little nipper like Lucky might liven my old ladies up,’ said Billy the Chip.

  ‘It’s so good of you to let us stay at your place, Billy.’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit old-fashioned, like. I think it needs one of them makeovers. I haven’t had the heart to do anything, not since I lost my Marian.’

  ‘Ah. Well. Tell me about it,’ said Dad. ‘I know just how you feel, Billy.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re still young, mate, not an old geezer like me. Why don’t you think about getting yourself another woman, Charlie?’

  ‘Oh, ha ha. Who’d want to lumber themselves with a loser like me?’ said Dad.

  ‘I would!’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but you’re my special princess – and totally prejudiced,’ said Dad. ‘No, I don’t want another woman anyway. We’re fine just the way we are, Floss and me, aren’t we, lovey?’

  ‘Your Floss will grow up and be off before you know where you are,’ said Billy the Chip. ‘Life can get lonely by yourself, Charlie.’

  ‘I’ll second that,’ said Old Ron. ‘Isn’t that right, Miss D?’

  ‘Miss Davis. And I’m never lonely. I keep myself far too busy,’ said Miss Davis. ‘In fact I must be off on my bird trail right this minute.’ She stood up and started manoeuvring her bag of birdseed. She sniffed suddenly. ‘I shall miss my cup of tea and my little sit-down when the café closes. I’ve done a little tour of Starbucks and Costa Coffee and Caffé Nero and they’re all much more expensive.’

  ‘And you can’t get a decent chip butty in any of them,’ said Old Ron. ‘No, we’ll have to turn into nightbirds, Miss D, and visit Charlie in Billy’s chip van.’

  ‘Miss Davis. And I’m not going anywhere after dark, thank you very much. It’s too dangerous – yobbos all over the town.’

  ‘I could always escort you, Miss D,’ said Old Ron.

  Miss Davis snorted, not sure whether to take him seriously or not – but she didn’t snub his suggestion, and she didn’t correct him about her name this time.

  Dad cleaned up the café after the party was over while I made Lucky a very soft bed out of my duvet, folded up on the floor of my bedroom.

  ‘So what are you going to sleep under?’ said Dad, ruffling my curls.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be fine with an old blanket or your dressing gown,’ I said.

  ‘How about giving the cat the blanket or the dressing gown?’ said Dad. ‘You need your duvet, pet.’

  ‘Yes, but Lucky’s my pet. Well, I hope she will be. Dad, what else would she like in her bedroom? She’s still quite a little cat. Would she like a cuddly toy, do you think? I could give her Grandma’s dog or elephant to snuggle up with. Hey, maybe I could ask Grandma to knit me a mouse. Lucky would like that.’

  ‘Knowing your grandma’s little problem with sizes she’d probably knit a giant mouse as big as a moose and scare little Lucky to death. I think we’ll leave your grandma out of it. Lucky doesn’t need any cuddly toys – she’s got you, sweetheart.’

  We watched as Lucky tried out her duvet, playing with it for a minute, rolling around like a frisky kitten. Then she gave herself a little wash, yawned, stretched and lay on her side, paws stretched out. I stroked her back very gently and she started purring. Her purrs got a little louder, a little slower – sweet little snorty sounds.

  ‘Dad? Is she snoring?’ I whispered.

  ‘She certainly is, bless her,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, let’s leave her in peace. All the attention has tired her out. Are you tired too, Floss?’

  ‘I’m not a bit tired. It’s way too early for me to go to bed, Dad.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking. So, now you’ve got Lucky settled, how about us going out for a little while? I think we both need a little fun tonight. Let’s go to the fair, eh?’

  ‘Oh yes! Can I go on Pearl again?’

  ‘Of
course you can.’

  ‘And can I have another candyfloss?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘Bought from Rose’s stall?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  I paused. ‘Dad, do you like Rose?’

  ‘Of course I do. She’s a very kind lady.’

  ‘I think she likes you a lot, Dad.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Dad, but he looked at me hopefully. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Definitely!’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ said Dad, but he was looking down at his old jersey and jogging bottoms. ‘Hey, I look a terrible scruffbag. I’d better change out of these old togs.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to change into my old togs,’ I said. ‘I look stupid in this outfit, don’t I, Dad?’

  ‘You look very glam and gorgeous, my darling, but not quite my little girl. So yes, you get changed too.’

  Dad got dressed up in his best jeans and blue shirt and I got dressed down in my old jeans and stripy T-shirt. I checked on Lucky – several times – and left a bowl of food near her and a box of torn-up newspaper as a makeshift litter tray.

  Then Dad and I set off for the fair.

  It wasn’t there!

  There was just an empty field with some muddy tracks and litter blowing in the wind. We both stood staring, madly waiting for it to materialize in front of our eyes. But there were no vans, no rides, no roundabout, no candyfloss stall.

  Dad blinked and shook his head. ‘Oh dear. Of course. It’s moved on somewhere else. As fairs do. I am a fool. Sorry, Floss.’

  ‘Where’s it gone, Dad?’

  ‘Search me. There aren’t any posters or anything. Poor poppet, you’ve missed out on your ride on Pearl.’

  ‘And my candyfloss.’

  ‘Yes. Sorry.’

  ‘Can’t we . . . can’t we go and look for it someplace else?’

  ‘Well, where, pet?’ Dad said helplessly. He looked all round and then spotted the pub on the corner. ‘Let’s see if they’ve got any idea.’

  We hurried to the pub. I hung around the doorway while Dad went in and asked. He came out sadly shaking his head.