by Dyan Sheldon
“Just great,” I assured her. “Everything’s brilliant. I should get my first giro soon.”
“And how’s Shinola?”
“She’s brilliant, too.”
I could hear her sigh.
“Charley’s doing a job up in Camden,” my mother went on. “We were thinking he could pick you two up on his way home one night and you could come down for supper. You could spend the night if you wanted, or he could run you home afterwards.”
This was another irony. When we lived together she was always shouting at me, and now that she didn’t live with me she was always trying to get me to go down for a visit. I reckoned she just wanted to check up on me. You know, make sure I hadn’t been beating the baby or taking drugs or something.
“We’d love to,” I lied. “But I’m pretty busy this week.”
“Next week then.”
“I’ll have to see how things go.”
There were a few seconds of silence that I took to be defeat. But it wasn’t. It was her regrouping.
Hilary Spiggs cleared her throat. “Mrs Mugurdy says she’s seen your boyfriend a couple of times.”
It was just as well I didn’t go out much. Mrs Mugurdy probably had a key so she could go through the flat when I wasn’t in to make sure I wasn’t trashing the place.
“Mrs Mugurdy should mind her own business, too,” I told her.
“She said he seems very nice,” said my mother.
I couldn’t believe it. Maybe she missed me – or maybe just missed the flat – but she was ready to make peace. This was her way of giving up. Mrs Mugurdy obviously reported back that Les not only didn’t have face piercings or a motorcycle, but that he had a nice car and dressed well and was very polite. Hilary Spiggs was relieved.
But I wasn’t going to fall into her trap and say anything more about Les. I knew her. If I said he was nice, within five minutes she’d have his name, address, and NHS number.
I said, “Um…”
“I hope he’s contributing,” said my mother.
I didn’t say anything.
“Well?” she persisted. “Is he contributing?”
If I said yes, I wouldn’t be able to come up with some unexpected expense to get some more money out of her. If I said no, she might forget how nice Mrs Mugurdy said he was and lie in wait to confront him herself.
“Of course he is,” I assured her. “He’s not a wanker.”
“That I already know,” said my mother.
Nothing to do and
Nowhere to do it
I was feeling kind of down by December.
All of a sudden, everybody was really busy. Now that he was a manager on a distant planet, Les had even less free time than he’d had before. Shanee’d started going out with the guy from the shop, so she didn’t have a minute. Charlene never had any time, and now she had less because she was organizing the school’s Christmas fair. Dara was in New York. My nan usually rang every day or two, but Christmas is a big time for quilters and she hadn’t rung for a week. Even Hilary was too busy to check up on me much. It made me feel really lonely, with only Shinola to talk to day after day. And only Shinola things to do.
Plus, things weren’t going exactly right.
My giro still hadn’t come through, and I’d had a letter from the council, reminding Mrs Spiggs that the rent was overdue. I barely had enough left to cover it. I splurged on our velvet dresses for Christmas, but I reckoned they were worth it because we’d wear them for Les. Aside from them, though, I didn’t know where the money went, but it went there faster than Concorde. And it wasn’t like I was living it up or anything. I’d been existing on Kwik Save No Frills beans and Kwik Save No Frills bread for weeks. I hadn’t had any Coke for a month. To economize.
I was still trying to work out how to pay the phone bill when the nurse at the well-baby clinic shouted at me because of Shinola’s nappy rash. She said it was practically terminal. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain that the reason Shinola’s bottom looked like pizza was because I was so broke and had to save on nappies. She piled on the guilt.
“You young mothers seem to think babies are dolls,” she snarled. “But if you break a leg off her you’re not going to be able to glue it back on.”
The day after that, I saw the housing officer. He had a face that looked like it never smiled. He said I wasn’t exactly homeless or desperate, was I? He said I had less points than a bowl of jelly and he put me on the bottom of the list. He said to let him know if my circumstances changed.
“You mean, ring you if I die?” I asked.
“Something like that.”
After I saw the housing officer, I went home and cried. I just sat on the sofa with my jacket on and Shinola gumming my finger and wept. I really wished Shanee would come over like she used to, and we’d get a couple of bags of crisps and some chips and a few videos and sit up half the night just talking. But the thought of videos made me cry even more. For a few minutes I felt really angry. So angry I took Shinola’s giraffe from where it was poking into my bum and hurled it at the telly.
But I didn’t exactly know who I was angry with. It wasn’t Shanee. And it definitely wasn’t Les. I mean, it wasn’t Les’s fault that he was so good at his job he’d been made the youngest manager in the nation, maybe even in the world. It wasn’t his fault that he got transferred to Finsbury Park. It wasn’t his fault that Hilary didn’t leave me enough money to live on. I could hear the Spiggs say, “But it is his fault you got pregnant,” and then I knew who I was angry with.
I could see now that Hilary had planned the whole thing. She knew what having a baby was like. How hard it was to look after one on your own with no one to ever help you out or mind her for a few hours. She knew how much it cost. She knew my friends were all going to be tied up with school and have no time for me. She wanted everything to fall apart. She was waiting for me to beg her to come back. She was waiting for me to say that she’d been right and I’d been wrong. But I wasn’t going to. I was going to pull myself together and go on. I’d had a couple of temporary setbacks, that was all. Minor, temporary setbacks. The only thing that could really ruin my plans was if me and Les broke up. And that was never going to happen.
But not having any money was a problem. I had nine people to buy Christmas presents for, not counting Les and Shinola. I didn’t want to make Hilary think I wasn’t coping by turning up with nothing.
I took another Rolo from the packet. I was meant to be eating them slowly because they were a treat. Sort of like a gift from God. I’d gone to the newsagents for a box of matches because the pilot light wasn’t working on the stove. I couldn’t be bothered putting Shinola in her buggy, so I just carried her to the shop in my arms. The shop was busy and, as per usual, Shinola was whingeing. I was trying to shut her up while we waited in the queue by showing her the sweets on the counter.
I shook a box of Maltesers. “Look,” I said. “What’s that, Shinola?”
Shinola didn’t like the Maltesers.
I picked up a packet of Smarties and shook that.
She didn’t like them either.
I’d just picked up the Rolos when an old lady came out from the back of the shop and asked who was next.
The woman behind me gave me a shove. “That’s you.”
“A box of matches, please,” I said, and I shoved my hand in my pocket for the money.
It wasn’t until we were outside that I realized that at the same time as I’d gone for the change, I’d stuck the Rolos between me and Shinola.
I was looking at them now the way I’d looked at them then. With wonder.
Then I’d been wondering if I should take them back.
Now I was wondering if I could do it again.
It didn’t take me long to work out that I could do it again. And again. And again.
It was a hell of a lot easier than taking a bottle from a hungry baby, I’ll tell you that. Especially if you have a baby to help you.
It took me about
three minutes to work out that supermarkets were the easiest places to nick things from. And because it was Christmas there was more to nick than tins of soup. Hilary moaned and groaned every year when they changed all the aisles round to fit the stuff for Christmas in. “Where the hell have they put the eggs?” she’d shriek. “Why can’t they leave things where they were?” But the extra aisles of gifts and chocolates were the answer to my prayers. It was convenient, one-stop shopping as far as I was concerned.
I was really careful, of course. The last thing I needed was to get me and Shinola arrested. Hilary Spiggs would throw a major fit if her granddaughter ended up behind bars. She probably wouldn’t be too happy about me being behind bars, either. A disadvantage of being sixteen that I hadn’t thought of before was that now they could put me in prison.
Shinola and I went to the shops we always went to. Everybody knew us ’cause I always chatted to the people on the tills about Shinola and the weather and stuff like that. It was the only adult conversation I had, not counting Les and the occasional phone call from Shanee or a close female relative. I reckoned they wouldn’t be watching me because they knew me. They’d just think, oh there’s that girl and her adorable baby, and never even suspect. Plus, I always bought something. That way, if I did get caught, they’d believe me if I said it was a mistake. “Oh, my God!” I’d cry. “I forgot all about that. It was caught in the baby’s blankets.” And we never went to the same shop twice in a row. We spread ourselves around.
I had almost everything in less than a week. Chocolates for my nan and Charlene’s kids, aftershave for each of the men, bath oils for my sisters and the Spiggs, and a stuffed toy for Shinola.
There was only one present I needed that couldn’t be had in a supermarket. And that, of course, was Les’s. I would’ve waited till after Christmas Day, to see if someone gave me some money, but Les was going to Norwich to visit his mum on Christmas Eve, so I couldn’t put it off.
What I wanted to get Les was a gold I.D. bracelet that I saw in the Argos catalogue. I was going to have his initials engraved on the front and Love, Lana on the back. Only now I couldn’t even afford the one in the pawnshop with someone else’s initials on it.
My second choice was a pair of Tazmanian Devil socks I’d seen on Oxford Street. Les loved Taz. He even had a Taz air freshener in his car. It wasn’t a great present, but I reckoned it was a thoughtful one.
It took me a while to work up my courage for this. Shop assistants on Oxford Street were programmed to look out for shoplifters, and you could never completely get out of their view or away from the cameras. Plus, I couldn’t afford to buy anything, not unless they had some socks on sale for fifty pence.
I filled a couple of old Body Shop and Miss Selfridge carrier bags with stuff of mine, you know, so they’d think I really was shopping, but I was counting on Shinola. She was the one who would have to create the distraction.
For once Shinola did what I wanted her to do. The second we walked into the shop she started howling. I leaned over her buggy to comfort her, but she wasn’t having any of it. There were a couple of other customers and two salesgirls in the shop, and they all gave me sympathetic smiles. I tried rocking the buggy, but the shop was so small that I couldn’t help bumping into things. I kept apologizing and trying to calm her down. I became frazzled and distressed. I lifted her out, blankets and all.
“Please, love…” I begged loudly. “We have to find something for your dad.”
Everybody else became frazzled and distressed, too. One of my fellow shoppers fled and the other grabbed a pair of boxers and a scarf and raced to the till. I slipped the socks into Shinola’s quilt and stuck her back in her buggy.
Still projecting, the way they taught us to in drama, I said, “We’ll have to go if you’re going to carry on like this. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
And that was that: a piece of cake. Chocolate with cherries on top.
I turned the buggy round and started towards the door.
“I’ll be back,” I promised the salesgirls.
They smiled and waved and called back “Bye” and “See you later.”
But just as I got to the door my luck changed.
A group of girls, weighed down with about a dozen carrier bags each, charged in. They were giggling insanely over something. I was about to push past them when I realized who they were.
I was astonished. That’s the only word for it: astonished. I mean, how many shops are there in London? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Tens of thousands of shops and twenty-four hours in a day, and at exactly the same time as me, Shanee, Gerri and Amie are overcome by an irresistible desire to buy socks on Oxford Street. There must be a God; this sort of thing couldn’t happen without planning.
“Lana!”
“Lana!”
“Lana!”
Shinola, taking her cue from God, went as quiet as a flower. The little treasure. I could’ve thrown her through the window.
“Shanee! Gerri! Amie!” I shrieked back. “What are you doing here?”
“Christmas shopping,” said Shanee.
“This is the last stop,” said Amie. “I’m shopped out.”
Gerri laughed. “You’re never shopped out till you’re dead.”
“What about you?” asked Shanee. She gave me a smile. “Looking for something for Dad?”
I smiled back. “Yeah, only Shinola’s been fussing, so I’m taking her home.”
Amie made a face at Shinola, who, leaving my script completely, smiled back and gurgled.
“She seems all right now,” said Gerri.
“We won’t be long,” said Shanee. “Why don’t you wait and we can all go home together?”
It was like robbing a bank and then staying to chat to one of the cashiers.
I nodded at Shinola. “This good mood is just temporary, believe me. You don’t want to go home with us, it’s a traumatic experience.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Shanee suddenly dropped down and stroked Shinola’s cheek. “You’re not going to make a scene on the bus, are you, sweetie?”
“I’ll just be a second,” said Gerri. “I know exactly what I want.”
Amie started looking at the boxers, but Shanee kept talking to Shinola. She undid one of the snaps on her jacket. She picked up the toy Shinola had with her and shook it in front of her face. She said, “I think she wants a cuddle.” She undid the seatbelt and lifted Shinola into the air.
It happened so fast that I couldn’t stop her. One minute Shanee was squatting by the buggy, and the next she was standing on her feet with Shinola in her arms.
The Tazmanian Devil socks fell to the floor.
“What’s that?” said Shanee.
“What’s that?” said the cashiers.
It was lucky I was born to be an actress as well as a mother.
“Oh, my God!” I slapped my hand across my mouth in stunned surprise. “I forgot all about them! Shinola was crying so much – I must’ve dropped them in her blanket when I was trying to quiet her.”
The salesgirls laughed.
“It’s all right,” said the oldest. “You definitely had your hands full.”
Shanee was still talking to Shinola.
“Is this what you’re giving your dad for Christmas? He’s going to love these!”
“Do you want to bring them over to the till?” said the salesgirl.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Tell her right off that I’d changed my mind? Or act like I was going to buy them and then pretend that I’d lost my money?
“You still want them, don’t you?” she pushed.
I could feel everybody looking at me.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Of course I want them.”
Amie sidled up next to me. “What’s going on?” She gave me a wink. “What’ve you been doing, Lana? Thieving again?”
It was a joke. I knew it was a joke. And everyone else knew it was a joke, too. Only nobody actually laughed.
Shanee thrust the socks at me. H
er fingers closed around my hand and squeezed hard.
“Here you go.” She bent down and put Shinola back in her chair. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I could feel something that wasn’t socks against my palm. I glanced down. There was a twenty-pound note pressed against them.
“It’s lucky you found them,” I said to Shanee.
Shanee nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I reckon it is.”
Usually the thought of spending an entire day with all my family appealed to me about as much as spending an entire day in a maths class. But I was on my own so much that I was almost looking forward to Christmas. At least it’d be warm – Charlene’s heating wasn’t on a meter, and even if it was she would always have enough money to recharge the key. And there’d be lots of food. And presents. And it was something to wear our new dresses for.
Shinola’s velvet dress was green and mine was red. They both had lacy white collars and cuffs. I even dug out the jewellery kit Hilary gave me one Christmas. I could never be bothered to give it a go, but it was actually pretty good. It had tools, wire, thread, some chains and an assortment of beads. The chains were cheap, but they looked all right from a distance. I shortened one of the gold ones to fit Shinola and I hung a tiny teddy and a star from it. I put the charm Les gave me for Christmas (a teapot this time) on my gold bracelet. So me and Shinola had one image. If we didn’t look like mother and daughter, we did look like elves.
As soon as I walked through the door, Charlene scooped Shinola out of my arms.
“The guest of honour has arrived!” she shouted.
My nan came out of the kitchen like a thief leaving a robbery.
“Give her to me!” she ordered and snatched her away from Charlene before Charlene could argue.
I didn’t have to think about Shinola for the rest of the day. Everyone wanted to hold her and play with her. The kids wanted to feed her. Nan even wanted to change her. You’d think I’d brought the baby Jesus instead of Shinola Spiggs.
There was food all over the place. Crisps and chocolates. Nuts and pretzels. Biscuits and chunks of cheese and olives. My stomach wasn’t growling, it was echoing. I chose a seat where I could reach the nuts and the cheese.
