Her Mother's Daughter

by Alice Fitzgerald

  We nod, so he lets us choose an ice-cream. I choose my favourite with caramel and chocolate, and Thomas gets the strawberry cone he always gets. We skip out the door to the car. I sing when I put my seatbelt on because I’m so happy.

  At the park we walk by a little stream of water and see baby pigs and sheep and cows eating in the fields. There are peacocks in a garden and they open their tails and show all the green eyes with make-up on their feathers. ‘They’re beautiful,’ I say to Daddy and Thomas, pointing at the ones with their tails like rainbows. ‘They look like Mummy.’

  Daddy laughs and Thomas takes a bite of his chocolate. ‘How’s that?’ he says.

  ‘All they have to do is open their arms and they look beautiful, showing all the colours on their feathers, just like Mummy.’

  Daddy gazes at them and nods.

  ‘I want to look like that,’ I say.

  Thomas holds his chocolate in his hand and runs around in circles, flapping his arms.

  CLARE

  10TH OCTOBER 1997

  A ll the other children’s mummies have come to get them already.

  Me and Thomas sit on the wall outside the gate and swing our legs, knocking the backs of our shoes against the wall, the way Mummy hates. She says it’s unladylike, just like sitting without putting your legs together or scratching when you have an itch. We play a game, looking out for Mummy’s car to see who sees it first. We don’t walk through the park, now the car is back from the car doctor, which means Sooty can’t come because Mummy says he’s not allowed in the car.

  Thomas sees her car first and holds his arm out, pointing. ‘I spy with my little eye,’ he shouts.

  I start laughing because he got confused. With this game he’s supposed to say, as quick as he can, ‘I spotted, I saw, I won.’

  He laughs, too, and I help him off the wall.

  ‘Silly billy,’ I say, taking his hand. The car is coming closer.

  It’s grey and has a big front and a big bum, and a scratch on one side from when Mummy went too close to a lamp post when she was parking.

  We wait at the edge of the pavement, which is as far as we are allowed to go, and watch Mummy come towards us, closer closer closer. She’s going fast and not going slower like she normally does, so I grab Thomas’s arm and jump backwards. She stops in front of us with a bump and a screech and waves for us to get in.

  I open the back door and crawl in, and Thomas climbs in after me and pulls the door shut with both hands.

  I hold on to the head of Mummy’s seat to stand up and give her a kiss on the cheek. Her skin is wet and leaves a taste in my mouth of salt-and-vinegar crisps. Her face looks all shiny.

  ‘Hi, Mummy,’ I say, and sit back so Thomas can give her a kiss.

  ‘Hello, my darlings,’ she says. ‘Did you have a nice day?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  Thomas nods.

  ‘Good,’ she says, smiling. ‘I’m taking ye for ice-cream.’

  Thomas jumps up and down and claps his hands.

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. Because you’ve both been so good.’

  I stand up and put my arms around the seat until I feel her hair. I tickle her neck and she puts her hand over mine and I smile and my cheeks get hot.

  She turns the key and the engine croaks and then chugs to life. She looks in the mirror and pulls into the road. I turn and look behind us, just in case a car is coming, because sometimes Mummy doesn’t see them and then, when they beep at her, she winds her window down and shouts at them.

  We drive to the High Road and Mummy parks. In the ice-cream café she says we can pick whatever we want. I get a banana split with chocolate and caramel, because that’s my favourite. Thomas gets strawberry and chocolate ice-cream with strawberry sauce and nuts. Mummy gets a coffee. She smokes while we eat our ice-cream and, because I’m sitting in front of her, the smoke comes into my face and makes me cough, but I don’t mind because my ice-cream is so good. We haven’t been allowed to eat any sweet things since we got back from holiday, apart from when we’re with Daddy.

  ‘Is that nice?’ Mummy asks.

  I nod and she laughs. ‘You have ice-cream on your nose,’ she says.

  I giggle and wipe my nose and look at Thomas. He has ice-cream all round his mouth and chin, but because Thomas is next to Mummy, she hasn’t seen him. I point at Thomas and start laughing and we all giggle. Mummy laughs and smokes her cigarette. She gets a tissue and wipes Thomas’s face and then tries some of his ice-cream. I ask if she’d like to try mine and she says yes, so I give her a spoon, but try not to give her much caramel because I want it.

  ‘Mmmm,’ she says, ‘that’s delicious.’

  When we have finished, we drive home and wait at the front door while Mummy finds the key for the top lock. Her hand is shaking. She’s pale and her skin is shiny, like when she picked us up. She opens the door and we wait for her to take the key out of the lock and go in. Sooty always pokes his nose out, so we have to close the gate so he can’t run away, but he’s not there today.

  We go in and take our coats off and hang them up on the hooks by the door. Mummy puts her bag on the table and walks inside. There is still no sign of Sooty. He always comes to kiss us hello. ‘Sooty!’ I call. ‘Sooty Sooty Sooty!’

  Me and Thomas run inside. We go through the kitchen into the utility room. The door is locked, so he is probably outside. We run to the front door to put our shoes on, and run back. I unlock the door and open it. Sooty is always jumping at the door when it’s locked. He must be at the glass doors to the sitting room. Sometimes he sits there and watches us inside, or jumps up and paws at the glass. Then he leaves muddy paw-prints, which makes Mummy angry.

  I run along the alleyway by the side of the house and Thomas follows me. I jump over Sooty’s poo and warn Thomas not to step on it. At the end of the alley, I turn right into the garden. The patio is empty. Sooty isn’t anywhere by the doors. I run onto the grass. We have an apple tree in the middle that falls sideways. He must be the other side of it. ‘Sooty,’ I call.

  ‘Sooty,’ shouts Thomas.

  We run all round the garden, careful not to stand on Sooty’s poos. He’s not there.

  My heart bangs in my chest. Maybe he got through a hole in the fence, maybe he jumped over the fence. I didn’t think he could jump that high. He’s still only little. I go over to the flowerbeds, where we’re not allowed and Sooty’s not allowed, but he doesn’t know that, so he’s eaten lots of the tops of the flowers. I check he’s not hiding in the bushes.

  ‘Where is he, Clare?’ asks Thomas.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

  We go back into the utility room and I open the cupboards to see if he got inside one by mistake. I open the toilet door and look inside. We go into the kitchen. The kettle is boiling. I can hear the water bubbling inside and humming, like it’s going to take off and fly over the worktops. I turn on the light to the sitting room. ‘Sooty,’ I call.

  Me and Thomas look under the table and the sofa and the chairs. I check in the fireplace. I think he might be playing Hide-and-seek, only he doesn’t know how to play. We go upstairs and check the bathroom: the shower and the bath, and the unit under the sink; and then the back rooms. Thomas starts crying. We go into our room. We check under our bunk beds, in the wardrobe and in Thomas’s bed under the duvet. I even climb up to my bed and lift the quilt to see if he’s sleeping.

  I knock on Mummy’s door.

  ‘Come in,’ she calls.

  I open the door and Mummy is sitting at her make-up table in front of the mirror, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Sooty has escaped,’ I declare. ‘We have to find him – let’s get our coats.’ I run to Mummy and tug at her sleeve.

  ‘Mummy, Sooty’s gone,’ Thomas sobs. ‘Poor Sooty.’

  She shakes her arm free to smoke her cigarette. She blows the smoke into the mirror and stares as she disappears in the glass. She stays still, her back straight, one arm holding the cigarette.
I watch as she rubs her thumbnail and fingernail against each other, the way she does when she has chipped one.

  ‘Sooty’s gone,’ she says into the mirror.

  ‘Gone?’ I say, my bottom lip wobbling.

  ‘Gone?’ Thomas says in a sob.

  ‘Yes, he’s gone.’

  ‘But where’s he gone?’ I ask. ‘He must be lost. He’ll be looking for us.’ The thought of small, fluffy Sooty wandering the streets, looking for me and Thomas, is too much. ‘Mummy, we have to go NOW!’ I scream. ‘NOW!’ I pull at her jumper.

  ‘NOW!’ Thomas shouts. ‘NOW, MUMMY, NOW!’

  ‘He’s gone!’ she shouts, still looking straight ahead.

  I watch her face from the side, the smoke shooting out of her nose like a dragon breathing fire. ‘But where?’ I whisper. The tears roll down my cheeks.

  The front door clicks and then closes. Daddy’s home. He’ll help us find Sooty, I think. He’ll show Mummy. I turn and run out of the room, along the hallway and down the stairs. ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ I scream. ‘Sooty’s gone and we have to go and find him,’ I say as fast as I can, holding on to the rail and running down the stairs. I run into him and wrap my arms around his waist.

  He kneels down on one knee and looks at me.

  ‘Daddy, we need to go,’ I squeal, pulling at the neck of his jumper. I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand.

  ‘Clare, Sooty has left us,’ Daddy says. He looks up at Thomas, who has come down, and waves him to come over.

  ‘Where has he gone?’ I whisper.

  He looks at me, then shakes his head like he is saying no, but there is nothing to say no to.

  ‘WHERE?’ I shout.

  ‘We couldn’t look after him,’ he says. ‘He needed too much care and time, and Mummy couldn’t manage it. He had to go.’

  I try to get away, but Daddy holds on to me. ‘Clare,’ he says, ‘Clare!’

  ‘No!’ I scream. ‘Leave me alone.’ I lash out at his face with my hands and hit him away. ‘I want Sooty!’ I scream. ‘I hate you, I hate you both. I hate her!’

  He lets me go and I fall down. I get up and run up the stairs on my hands and feet. I run into my room and up the ladder and get under the duvet and push the pillow against my face and I scream and scream and scream.

  *

  When I wake up I still have the picture from my dream in my mind. It’s Sooty lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. He has been caught in a trap, and the pin is going through his head and he’s squealing like a mouse.

  CLARE

  10TH OCTOBER 1997

  I climb down the ladder as quick as I can – one, two, one, two – and get my pink rucksack. I unzip it and turn it upside down and everything falls out onto the floor. I go over to the wardrobe and take out two tops, a dress and a skirt, and then take out five pairs of knickers and two vests and stuff them in my rucksack. I get my pencil case with my colouring pencils and a notebook and put them in. I run to the bathroom and get my toothbrush. Then I zip it closed.

  I put my rucksack on my shoulder and place my other arm through the loop, so it’s on my back, and run down the stairs, right, left, right, left, holding onto the banister in case I slip. No one is in the kitchen. I go into the sitting room. Thomas is sitting on the sofa on his own, watching cartoons. He doesn’t see me, so I back out slowly and run through the kitchen to the utility room. Daddy isn’t there but the back door is open, so I know he’s pottering around, which is when he’s doing bits and pieces. I go out the door along the alleyway. The long hose snakes all the way along, moving every now and again, so I am careful not to stand on it or I’ll trip. Daddy is watering the flowers. I get to the end of the alley and see him at the bottom of the garden with the hose in his hand, pouring water over the flowers that are left on the flowerbed, where me and Thomas aren’t allowed to go.

  He turns and sees me and smiles a sad kind of a smile. I walk over to him. ‘Daddy,’ I say. My tone is serious. I am serious. I mean business.

  ‘Yes, honey?’ he says in a soft voice because he is upset and he knows I’m upset, too.

  ‘Daddy,’ I say again, because even though I’m serious I’m scared and nervous and don’t know where to start. My bottom lip is shaking, but I WILL NOT CRY.

  He carries on sprinkling the water over the leaves, even though there are no flowers there.

  ‘We need to get Sooty back,’ I say, like I’m an actress playing a part in a film and I mean business.

  ‘Now, Clare—’ he starts, but I don’t let him go on.

  ‘No, I mean it, Daddy,’ I say. When Daddy is serious about something he says, ‘I mean it’, and me and Thomas know there is no messing. So I think if anything will make him listen, that will. ‘I love Sooty so much, and I just had a dream he got caught in a mouse-trap, like that mouse we caught and it was still alive and squealing…’ I run out of breath. I huff and puff and continue, ‘And I’ve decided that if Sooty goes, I go, because he is the only thing that makes me and Thomas laugh sometimes, and without him we will be miserable.’

  He stares at the end of the hose where the water pours out onto the ground. His trainers and the bottom of his trousers are all wet and muddy. If he brings that mud into the house, Mummy will kill him.

  ‘And it’s not fair what you did, taking Sooty away from us like that, when we were at school. So I want you to take me to get him back.’

  ‘Clare, darling,’ Daddy says.

  ‘I’m serious, Daddy,’ I say, holding my head up and staring at him hard. My eyes sting but I hold back the tears. ‘Or else I’m leaving.’

  He looks at me and laughs, but then sees I’m not laughing and my face is stony-straight, like the poker by the fire, and his face goes serious.

  I stand firm, looping my thumbs around the straps of my rucksack and staring at him. ‘Please, Daddy, please, please, please,’ I say, over and over again, with my eyes.

  He looks back at me, then across the garden to the French doors. I turn round. Thomas is standing inside the glass, watching us.

  ‘Come on,’ says Daddy and he starts walking across the garden, taking the hose-snake with him. I follow him all the way along the alley to the tap, where he turns it off. Then he gets down on his knees and gives me a hug, but I don’t even want a hug – I want to go and get Sooty.

  ‘Please, let’s go,’ I almost squeal. My cheeks are all red, and I’m hot and my heart is going bum-bum, bum-bum.

  We go inside and Daddy stamps his feet on the mat, and from the kitchen he calls to Thomas to turn off the TV and come on.

  At the front door I throw my rucksack on the floor and put my coat on. We go out and Daddy closes the door behind us.

  He unlocks his car door and lifts up the little button, reaches round to the back and lifts up that button. I open the door and get in. Thomas climbs in after me.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asks Thomas.

  I don’t say anything, because I’m not really sure where we’re going and I don’t want to make any promises. Daddy always says you shouldn’t make promises to anyone that you can’t keep.

  ‘We’re going for a drive,’ says Daddy.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘We’re going for a drive.’

  We put on our seatbelts.

  Daddy says, ‘All strapped in?’

  ‘Yes,’ I call impatiently, wanting to shout, Go, Daddy, go!

  ‘Yes,’ says Thomas.

  Daddy drives and I look out my window and Thomas looks out the other one. I sit back and watch the trees go by, and then I close my eyes and imagine seeing Sooty again. I try to imagine the softness of his fur in my hands and the cold, wet stickiness of his nose against mine.

  ‘We’re here,’ Daddy says, turning off the engine.

  Me and Thomas undo our seatbelts and I look round to see where we are. All I can see are houses, on both sides of the street.

  ‘Hang on,’ Daddy says, turning round in his seat. ‘I’m just going to go and talk to a workmate of mine for ten minutes. You two st
ay here, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ I say.

  ‘Keep your doors locked, and don’t open to anyone.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He gets out and locks his door with the key, and then checks our doors are locked.

  When he’s at my side, I wind down my window and call him closer by wiggling my big finger.

  He leans down. ‘What, love?’

  ‘What about Mummy?’ I whisper.

  He straightens up and squeezes my hand hard.

  I know then that everything will be okay, and he will make Mummy see that we need Sooty. I squeeze his hand back.

  We watch him walk across the road and go into one of the houses with a big hedge in the front, so you can’t see any of its windows. My heart goes bum-bum, bum-bum.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ says Thomas.

  I wonder if I should tell him or not. I decide not to. ‘Daddy is talking to his workmate,’ I say. I turn and face the back, so I can watch the house, but all I can see is the hedge and the wooden gate.

  Is that where Sooty is? I wonder. I put my head out the window to see if I can hear him. Nothing. Just the chirp of a bird in one of the trees.

  I cross my legs and my toes and two fingers on both hands, and close my eyes tight, and say in my head, Please, please, please let Sooty be here. I will be good for ever, and I will look after Thomas and Mummy and Sooty, and I’ll walk him and pick up his poo and tell him he’s being naughty when he jumps up with mud on his paws.

  My cheeks burn and my bottom lip shakes. I try to keep it still but it won’t stop trembling.

  Thomas gets bored and draws on the window with his fingertip. I watch him push his finger round in circles that get bigger and bigger. It’s the body of a snail. Then he adds the head and the long, thin ears.

  A loud yelp breaks the silence and I spin round to look out the back window at the house. I can’t see anything, but the yelping continues. Sooty!

  ‘Thomas, it’s Sooty!’ I squeal. I can’t help it. It’s Sooty, I’m sure it is.

  ‘Where?’ he shouts, looking out the windows.

  ‘He’s in that house, there.’ I point at the house Daddy went into.