by Mel Darbon
Paris looks from Leo to me and back to Leo. Leo kisses her and won’t let go. I get a knot inside me. Then Paris pulls away and comes to the taxi. I move up on the seat and let the knot go.
Paris opens the taxi door. “You get going, Rose. Here.” She throws some money onto the seat. She speaks to the taxi man. “Take her to Victoria Station, please.”
“Iwanttogowithyou.”
“I can’t.” Her voice is small and wavy. She won’t look at me.
I watch as Paris and Leo walk away. Her head is on his shoulder. I want to shout at her to stop it. The taxi drives out into the traffic. I watch as Paris vanishes in all the people.
I’m muddled and angry-sad. At her going with a bad person. At leaving me on my own. When she promised to look after me. I’d never do that to Lou. Or any of my friends… But Paris wasn’t my friend. I wish I could see Lou now. She’s my best friend in the whole world. Apart from Jack. Her eyes are conker brown with dots of gold. When she smiles they light up and make me smile too. But she’s a long way away. I’m on my own and I have to work it out all by myself. I want to cry. I have to be brave.
“You all right, love?”
I see the taxi man’s eyes in his driving mirror.
“Yesno. Yes.”
“Sure?”
“I’m going to Victoria. I’m going to be with real Jack.”
“Right-o, love, as long as you’re meeting someone there.”
I rest my hand where Jack is safe in his pocket. I feel stronger. But my hand is shaking like a leaf.
I fall back in the seat and shut my eyes. I can work out what to do all by myself.
I can’t make my hand sit still.
The cafe on platform seven is open till midnight but you can’t stay on Victoria Station after that. A train lady told me. It’s four and half way round the clock now. The day has run away from me. It’s been a for ever day.
I try and eat my egg sandwich, but I can’t swallow it. It’s all dry and curly-up at the edges. I spit it out into my tissue. It’s the mint-smell one. Mint always makes me think of Grandma. Grandma loves old-fashioned glass mints with a polar bear on top. It’s not real glass. She says “they’re clearly minty” in a funny voice whenever she eats one.
She likes telling me what to do too. Grandma would tell me to put my thinking cap on. When I was little I thought it was a real cap.
I think I have to ring Mum cos the trains aren’t coming back today.
I don’t want to go home. Not when I’ve just started. I got away from the scary house. I can’t give up. But I’ve run out of clever. Stupid Rose is sitting here.
Grandma would be very cross with me, if she heard me say that. “Head up, shoulders back and don’t give up. You can do anything, Rose.”
But I can’t find Grandma’s thinking cap. It’s hiding from me.
The old lady sitting at my table looks over her magazine at me.
“Are you okay, dear?”
“Okaythankyou.”
“Are you on your own?”
I nod.
“Have you got stuck?”
“All my trains are snowed up.”
“Is anyone coming to meet you and take you home, your parents or someone who looks after you?”
I blow my nose and swallow down my sad. “I’m going to call my mum.”
“Good, now now, don’t get upset, you’ll soon be home.”
“Jack will think I don’t love him.”
“I’m sure Jack, whoever he might be, won’t think that at all.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Dear me, it’s a beastly afternoon. I’m waiting for my son to pick me up, he should be here soon.”
She smiles at me, which makes her eyes apple-pie crinkle round the edges. Just like my grandma.
“What a pretty butterfly brooch you’re wearing. Such a lovely blue.”
“Thankyou. Jack gave it to me. He told me he loved me for the first time. And I loved him back.”
“That makes it a very special butterfly then.”
I nod. “Jack’s mum made it in her jew-el-ry workshop. Jack painted a picture of how he wanted it. So she could copy it. Jack’s the best artist ever.” My words start to shake when I think of him.
“He sounds a very talented young man.” She gets a little grey book out of her bag. “I call this my boasting book. That’s a photo of my son on his wedding day, he’s six foot three!” She passes me the book. “It’s hard to believe because he was such a scrap of a thing when he was born. There he is as a baby, his father said he looked like a little hairless monkey.”
“When I was born, I was the size of a bag of sugar. My heart had a hole in it. After lots of operations my heart got better. Then all of me got sick and I nearly died.”
“You poor thing. That must have been so traumatic for your mother.”
“What’s tror-matik?”
“It means something is very difficult and upsetting. Do you have any brothers or sisters? I always wanted to have more than one child but it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I have a brother, Ben. He was a BIG surprise for Mum and Dad. I didn’t know much about him when he was little cos I was in hospital all the time. He just got bigger every time I saw him. When Ben was six, he fell down the stairs and hurt his back.”
“Goodness me, as if your parents didn’t have enough to cope with.”
“It was Ben’s turn to be in hospital. When he came home he lay on a made-up bed in the sitting-down room. For a long, long time, everyone was worrying about Ben, not me. Mum got me a nurse’s uniform and a doctor box. I made Ben get better.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m sure you were a huge help. I think Ben was lucky to have you.”
“He was. I didn’t like Ben being ill…but I liked being important.”
“I can understand that. How old is Ben now?”
“Only fifteen but he’s the size of a barn.”
The lady claps her hands and laughs. “Just like my son, David! Built for rugby, which he loves.”
“Ben too! He plays for Henley Hawks youth team in Henley-on-Thames where I live. Sometimes, when he’s not FaceTiming Sophie Baxter, he swings me round with one arm and makes me laugh. Sophie Baxter is Ben’s girlfriend. Dad thinks it’s cool Ben has a girlfriend. I’m sixteen and ten months and Dad doesn’t want me to have a boyfriend. That’s not fair.”
“Dads can be like that with their daughters.”
“Another lady on the tube train said that.” That makes me feel more happy.
“I remember my father was exactly the same as yours. He hated Eddie, my husband, well he was my boyfriend then but he became my husband. Father said he wasn’t good enough for me and he tried to keep us apart.”
“That’s what my dad’s doing! He thinks my boyfriend, Jack, is a bad in-flu-ence. But my granddad didn’t want Dad to marry my mum. He told Dad to keep away from her. Then Dad got very cross and threw a cricket bat and it hurt Muffin’s leg. She had to go to the vet.”
“Oh dear, that’s not very good.”
“Noitisn’t. But Dad still got married to Mum. And I want to marry my Jack.”
“Nothing was going to stop Eddie and me; when you love someone that much, as you do when first you fall in love, you feel you can conquer the world.”
I want to ask the lady why she wants to put a conker on the world but her phone rings. Her face happy lights up. “David, thank goodness. Outside by the where? The Tourist Information Office. How do I— Side entrance, opposite platform eight. Okay, darling, yes, yes, I’ll be careful. See you soon.”
She stands up to go and stops next to me as she pulls her gloves on. “You make sure you ring your mother right away now. I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask you your name.”
“Rose Tremayne.”
“That’s a very pretty name. My name is Margaret. Now you need to get home as quickly as possible, Rose, you really shouldn’t be on your own like this, not with this terrible weather. I’d hate to think of you getting
stuck here. I shall ask a member of staff to come and help you while you wait for your mother, then I won’t worry about you.” She tucks her black dotty scarf into her coat. “Let me tell you something before I go; my father grew to love my husband, Eddie, even though he never said it in words.”
I smile at her.
She rests her hand on my cheek. “Bye bye, dear, it’s been lovely passing the time with you. I’ll get the staff member to come and meet you in here.”
I wave as she walks away. I’m glad she’s going cos I need to leave before the staff comes and finds me. And I need to remember what she said. Side exit. Opposite platform eight. Side exit. Opposite platform eight. Tourist Information Office. I know those places. They tell you lots of things. That’s where Grandma took me when we came to London. I know what I have to do.
I’ve found my thinking cap.
It’s stopped snowing but the cold bites my ears. The cars are wrapped in clouds of smoke and their lights are shivering in the water on the road.
I can see the Tourist Information Office. The windows are all steamed up but I know the white “i” on the blue square.
It’s busy inside. Lots and lots of young people are crowded round the desk, all talking at once. I wait quietly at the side for my turn. I hope they hurry up. It’s getting later-on and I want to get moving on for the next day. And Jack.
The lady in charge claps her hands. No one takes any notice.
She stands on a chair. “Quiet, please! If everyone could listen, PLEASE! Due to the terrible weather conditions a lot of people are in need of accommodation. We have a list of cheap hotels, B&Bs and youth hostels that my colleague, Denise, is going to hand round to you all now. The address, telephone number and nearest underground station or bus route are printed clearly next to each venue in blue ink. Please note that Oxford Street YHA is full to capacity already.”
A short, dark boy raises his hand. “Excuse me, please, which is nearest hostel to the Victoria Station?”
“Let’s see…number five on your list, Earl’s Court, four stops on the District line, westbound. Five minutes’ walk to the hostel from there. It’s open twenty-four hours a day, but even so, I’d get there as soon as possible.”
“The District and Circle line is closed,” a red-haired girl shouts.
Everyone starts talking at once so the lady on the chair claps her hands again for silence. The red-haired girl carries on talking until someone tells her to shush.
“Thank you, the District and Circle line has now re-opened.”
The lady handing out the list gives one to me.
“Canyoushowm— can you show me the nearest place to Victoria Station that the dark boy said, pleasethankyou verymuch?”
She looks at me in a strange way. “Earl’s Court, it’s a youth hostel.” She puts a line under it with her pencil. “D’you know what that is?”
“My friend Jess at Henley College goes to youth hostels.”
“Does she? That’s nice.”
“Can you tell me the under-the-ground train again, pleasethankyou?”
“District line…four stops…westbound. The District line is green. It’s a little walk from there, so are you travelling with anyone?”
“No.”
“How old are you, love?”
“I’m sixteen and ten months.”
“Really?”
I push my shoulders back and put my head up. “I’m in-de-pen-dent. I’m going to Earl’s Court. District Line. Green. Four stops, west moving. Okaythankyou.”
The lady walks off shaking her head. I can see her talking to the other lady and pointing at me.
I think I need to go. I think she doesn’t believe I’m sixteen and ten months, but you should never tell lies… That makes my face glow red.
The short, dark boy is going out the door with another boy. “Dépêche-toi! Allons-y,” he says in an impatient voice.
I follow behind him into the cold. I don’t look back.
I follow the boys to the underground.
I stand on the train holding very tight to the silver pole. All I can see are the buttons on people’s coats. I turn in a circle to face the doors and don’t look down the gap.
As the doors shut, the red-haired girl from the Tourist Information Office pushes on to the train with some other girls. They’re all laughing. One of them is looking at her mobile. “Just checked,” she says, “Earl’s Court YHA is very near the tube station and it only takes five minutes to walk there.”
“Great, I’m frozen.”
“Shit! That’s awful.”
“What?” the red-haired girl asks.
“Fourteen-year-old girl jumped in front of a train. She died instantly; that’s why the District and Circle line was shut. Oh no! They don’t even know her name…that’s so tragic.”
My head can’t take this in. I feel sad inside and outside. Why would you jump in front of a train?
I hope it wasn’t this train that hurt her.
Where did her name go?
Her mum and dad will be broken up… I must text my mum when I get to the hostel.
I’m very squashed on this train. I don’t mind this time. It’s nice and warm after the frozen streets.
“THIS IS EARL’S COURT. STAND CLEAR OF THE DOORS, PLEASE. THIS IS A DISTRICT LINE TRAIN TO WIMBLEDON.”
I follow the girls when they get off. I heard them talk on the train. They said they were going to my hostel. I have my pleased face on, I can tell. I’m using my brain.
I don’t think the girls see I’m with them. They stop to throw snowballs at each other. One hits a car window. The driver beeps his horn. The red-haired girl runs and skids along the pavement. Her legs fly up in the air and she lands on her back. Her hat comes off and her hair is spread out across the snow.
“You all right, hun?” Her friends help her up and one of them brushes the snow off her back.
I pretend I’m doing up a lace on my boot. I’m chuffed I’m thinking so hard.
“Come on, let’s get going.” They walk on, arm in arm. Everyone is quieter now. My feet are so heavy I can hardly move. This day is going on and on. It should have been done ages ago.
We turn down a street that reminds me of one in Henley-on-Thames. It makes a lump come in my throat. That’s a lot of lumps in one day.
The girls stop outside an old house lit up in every window. The roof vanishes into the sky. I stand in the shadow of a wall. Four large trees guard the outside. Their branches are bent down with snow, which looks yellow in the lights from the windows. Some steps go up high to the front door. The girls hurry up the stairs.
“Careful!” someone shouts. “They’re very slippery in places.”
I walk up the steps holding on to the edge of the wall at the side. I stop at the top, too nervous to go in. I don’t know these places or what to do.
A boy with a grey beanie, like Jack, stands behind me.
“You goin’ in?”
He reaches over my head and holds the front door open for me. I go through.
Inside the noise fills my ears up. A man behind the desk waves a little red book in the air.
“Make sure you have your ID ready because it will save a lot of time. There is a queue, you all know what a queue is, so try and form an orderly line. Have you got any ID?” he says to a girl, in a tired-out voice.
She shakes her head and holds her hands up in the air.
I know ID. That’s who you are. I look around me. The girl with red hair gets her passport out, but I don’t have that with me. Dad keeps it safe in his office, in the third drawer down in his desk.
I keep moving forward in my queue. I hope I get a bedroom, as I can’t sleep outside.
A lady, who looks like my friend Ati, pushes through everyone with a mop, wiping up the snow water on the floor. I move back and smile at her. She stops and looks at me, frowns and clicks her teeth. I can feel my smile falling. She swings the mop around the floor and over my feet before moving away.
I don’
t understand mean people. I heard my mum’s friend talking in the sitting-down room when I was twelve and three bits of the year. She said it would have been best if I hadn’t been born. Mum got really cross and Mum never gets really cross. Mum said she couldn’t believe she could say that. She isn’t Mum’s friend any more. I felt sad all over. Most of her friends are lovely. Though Mum doesn’t speak to Uncle Tony or Mrs Carney at number thirty-three any more. They said hurting things about me too. And I was standing next to them. Mum told me I’m very important.
“Hey, are you okay? You need to move forwards.”
“Yesthankyou. I’mokay.”
The girl who spoke has a big blue jumper on. It’s the same blue as my old primary school uniform. Her face is covered in freckles, like my brother Ben. He hates them.
I’m next to see the man at the help desk. He has hair longer than mine, which touches his middle. The front bit is pulled back. It sits in a bun on top of his head.
“Hi there, you have ID?”
“My passport is at home. In my dad’s office.”
“Right, are you with anyone I can speak to?”
“I’m with me. I’m going to Brighton but all my trains are cancelled.”
“I see… How old are you? You have to be sixteen to stay at the YHA.”
“I’m sixteen and ten months.”
“Any way to prove it? Driver’s licence?” He snorts and clears his throat. “Student ID…perhaps? You have to have some proof of who you are or I’m afraid we can’t let you stay here.”
I remember my student card from my college, which is in my purse, and feel happy. The man looks at it very closely.
A real phone rings on his desk. “Where are you? I can’t cope, it’s worse than the first day of the Christmas bloody sales here. Okay, just try and get here ASAP.” He slams the phone down. “Sorry about that. I guess that’s all okay then…cool.” He hands me my ID back. “Do you want a bed for eighteen or private room for forty-nine pounds? You can pay by cash or credit card.”
“A bed, please. Is that by myself?”
The man laughs. “Not at that price. You’ll share with four to six other people, all girls of course. Can you pay?”
