by Mary Hooper
Ellie crept into the bedroom. ‘They’re having a row!’ she whispered.
‘What about?’
‘Something about a holiday next year. They’re going and we’re not.’
‘Oh, thanks a bundle, George,’ I muttered.
‘Not that we want to go anyway. Not with him,’ Ellie said.
‘What did Mum say?’
‘Something about it would be lovely for Jack at the seaside, and then he said he wasn’t providing holidays for all and sundry, that they needed some time on their own, without kids. Then he said that he wasn’t going to pay for us, and that if she felt Jack ought to go to the seaside then his father or grandfather could take him and pay for him, because he certainly wasn’t going to.’
‘Pig!’ I muttered under my breath. I wanted to rush in there and say it but I didn’t dare. I sat up, rocking backwards and forwards on the bed. I felt frustrated and full of fury. I had no money, no power, no voice that anyone would listen to. ‘Life stinks!’ I said to Ellie.
‘You bet it does,’ she said.
Chapter Fifteen
‘It was the bloody solicitors at the door!’ George said, marching into the kitchen and flinging a long brown envelope on to the breakfast table. ‘Served the papers on me personally, they did. Took me unawares.’
We’d all been dashing about having our bits of breakfast when the front-door bell had gone, long and loud. I’d been settling Jack into his high chair and Mum had been doing something with Ellie, so George had gone to answer it.
‘Bloody solicitors. Parasites,’ he spat out.
‘Is it the divorce papers?’ Mum asked.
George swore loudly by way of reply and sat down again, throwing the envelope on to the table and knocking over a jug of milk. Jack, startled by the sudden crash and confusion, started to cry.
‘Oh, that’s all we need,’ George said, ‘him starting. As if crying all night isn’t enough.’
‘Sssh. Never mind,’ Mum said, beginning to clear up the mess.
‘You frightened him – that’s why he started crying,’ I said.
George shot him a look which said, I’ll give him something to be frightened about.
‘And don’t look at him like that!’ I said immediately. ‘It’s all right,’ I said to Jack. I smoothed his hair out of his face. It was getting long; he was going to need a haircut soon. ‘It’s all right, darling.’
‘Look, calm down, everyone,’ Mum said. She put her hand on George’s shoulder. ‘What do you have to do about those papers?’
‘I don’t know,’ George said irritably. ‘I don’t even know what they are. I’m not going to open them.’
‘You’ll have to!’ Mum said.
‘Yes, all right, I’ll have to some time,’ he said. ‘I’m just not going to do it now.’
Jack stopped crying and I spooned more cereal into his mouth. He could feed himself now, after a fashion, but I liked to do it if it was anything messy or we were just about to go out. All the time he was chomping he kept a wary eye on George.
Ellie went off to school and then just as George and Mum were about to leave for work, the frontdoor bell went again.
‘You can go,’ George said to me. ‘And if it’s anyone official, I’m not here.’
It was Mark. I brought him in, and Jack beamed at him. ‘Up!’ he said, holding up his arms to be lifted.
‘Another word!’ Mum and I said together. Mum gave Mark a kiss and introduced him to George, who barely gave him the time of day.
I wiped around Jack’s mouth, got him out of his chair and handed him to Mark. ‘You’ve missed Ellie,’ I said, ‘so can you amuse him for five minutes instead?’
I dashed round collecting things and a couple of minutes later Mum and George went off to work. Mark came to find me.
‘I see what you mean about George,’ he said. ‘Not exactly oozing charm, is he?’
‘He’s in a really bad mood,’ I said. ‘Some papers arrived from a solicitor. Something about his divorce.’
We went into the kitchen and Mark looked hopefully at the teapot. ‘Have I got time for a cuppa?’
‘Only just.’ I passed him a clean mug. ‘Have you come here to go for a ride in the taxi with me?’
He nodded, grinning.
‘You won’t say anything about… you know, what he said, will you?’ I asked anxiously. ‘Only I’ve got to go in that cab with him for the rest of the term.’
Mark poured himself a mug of lukewarm, stewed tea with one hand and balanced Jack on his knee with the other. ‘I’ve got it all planned,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me.’ He took a swig of tea, pulled a face, and then asked casually, ‘By the way, have you got a coach timetable?’
‘Where for? Where’re you going?’
‘Chester,’ he said, all deadpan.
I stopped what I was doing, amazed. ‘Really? You’re going to see Lorna?’
‘Might,’ he said.
‘Brilliant!’ I felt a big lump come in my throat. ‘Oh, Mark, that’s fantastic…’
‘I just said I might,’ he said. ‘Don’t get all excited.’
‘You will, though, won’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I’ve been thinking about what you said. I reckon I really ought to give her a chance to explain, give her side of the story sort of thing. Maybe when I can understand the circumstances…’
I took a deep breath. ‘Fantastic,’ I said again. I didn’t want to get all bunged up with crying – not with ordeal by taxi driver coming up – so I tried to compose myself. ‘Just for that,’ I said, ‘I’m going to make you a fresh cup of tea.’
*
Mr Creep arrived as usual, pulling into the layby where Jack, Mark and I were waiting.
‘I’ve got an extra passenger, if that’s all right,’ I said to him. ‘This man’s a reporter from the local newspaper.’
He looked startled. ‘Oh. What’s he in aid of then?’
I smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll let him tell you that.’
Mark had Jack on one arm and was carrying his changing bag in the other, together with his own camera and gadget bag. I had my usual bundles and bags and stuff.
‘Could you give us a hand, old chap?’ Mark asked pleasantly.
The driver hesitated.
‘It’s a bit difficult with the baby and all,’ Mark added. ‘That’d be great if you could.’
Mr Creep was spurred into action. ‘Certainly,’ he said.
‘I expect you’re wondering what I’m here for,’ Mark began when we were all settled in and he was about to move off.
The driver’s eyes looked shiftily at me and I could see he was wondering what was coming next.
‘What it is – I’m hoping to do a regular piece for the local paper. It’s going to be called Familiar Faces.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘It’ll feature local people who are working in the community: nurses, milkmen, postmen, taxi drivers… people who make a difference to our everyday lives. People who do a service or who help others in some way.’
The driver nodded warily.
‘I want to make you a bit of a star!’ Mark went on. ‘I’ll take down some details and write a little piece on you. Perhaps you can give me some stories about the sort of people you help in your day-to-day life.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘Because I’m sure you do help people who perhaps don’t have the advantages that you have. And then I’ll take a few photographs of you in your cab – and perhaps one of you helping this young lady with her stuff at the other end. Just to give readers the flavour of the job.’
‘Oh. Right,’ Mr Creep said, settling back in his seat. He smiled rather smugly. ‘I’m going to be a star, am I?’
‘It might not appear in the paper for a month or so, of course – not until I’ve got half a dozen other interviews under my belt. And during that time I’ll be in touch with this young lady…’ He turned to me. ‘Sorry, what did you say your first name was again?’
‘Megan,’ I said, deadpan.<
br />
‘I’ll be in touch with Megan to find out if there have been any changes in circumstances,’ Mark said. He paused. ‘If you see what I mean.’
‘Right,’ the driver said. ‘Okey doke.’
Mark nudged me and I nudged him back, and then we both stared out of our respective windows or made polite conversation as if we’d never met before in our lives.
I left them outside Poppies. Mark was setting things up to shoot some pictures and the driver was posing in his cab, smiling fatly and falsely. I grinned to myself: Mark was brilliant!
About noon, when some of us were in the nursery giving our babies their lunch, I had another visitor.
‘Guess who?’ someone said, putting their hand on my shoulder, and I turned and Kirsty was standing there smiling at me. She looked much better, her hair clean and shiny and her face smiley instead of strained. She had Stella with her in a little straw carrycot.
‘You’ve come back!’ I gave her a hug and I looked at Stella. ‘And Stella’s back as well. How are you getting on?’
‘All right,’ Kirsty said. ‘Fine!’ She sat down, breathing happiness. ‘I got her back two days ago. They’ve done all the tests and there’s nothing wrong with her – they’ve just changed her milk formula.’ She moved the plaid blanket in the cot so that I could see Stella better. ‘Look! Isn’t she beautiful?’
I nodded. ‘Lovely!’ She did look lovely: her eyes were shiny bright, her cheeks pink and her hair brushed and fluffy.
Kirsty heaved a blissful sigh, gazing down at her. ‘I’ve got her back! I was really worried they wouldn’t let me have her.’
‘It’s brilliant,’ I said. I looked to see if she had her books with her. ‘Have you come back here for a class?’
She shook her head. ‘Only to see you and the girls. Vicki hasn’t been able to arrange a taxi run yet because I’m out of the area. It took me three buses! I couldn’t come every day.’
‘Are you still at the foster mother’s place? How is it?’
‘It’s OK now. She’s not a bad old stick.’ Kirsty smiled. ‘I get on better with her than I did with my own mum, actually.’
‘And are you allowed to stay there with her?’
She nodded. ‘Until I’m eighteen. Then I’ll get a flat.’ She pointed at Jack – while I was talking to Kirsty he’d taken the opportunity to creep up on little Lloyd and pinch a crisp. ‘Isn’t he walking well! What’s been happening to you, then?’
‘Oh, you know,’ I said. ‘Celeb parties, clubs, a Barbados beach holiday – the usual things. But we’re going to move soon. That’s quite exciting.’
‘You and Jack?’ she asked, surprised.
‘I wish. Me and my mum and sister – and my mum’s bloke. We’re moving from our flat to a house nearby. Jack’s going to have his own bedroom and so am I.’
‘Brilliant!’ Kirsty said. ‘Perhaps I can come over and see you.’
‘’Course you can,’ I said, squashing the thought of what George would say about two babies in the house. ‘Come any time you like.’
Later that afternoon, as I went along the corridor to the flat, the phone was ringing. It stopped just as I put my key in the lock.
‘Missed it! See you tomorrow?’ said Mr Creep – who had actually come with me, up to the door – carrying Jack’s little chair and some large, messy red and blue ‘paintings’ that he’d done that day.
‘Yes, thanks,’ I said, hiding a grin. ‘Thank you for your help.’
‘Not at all,’ he said, trying to outdo me in politeness.
By the time I was indoors with all my stuff the phone was ringing again. I put Jack on the floor and picked it up.
‘Told you I’d ring,’ a voice said. It was Jon.
‘I can’t really talk now,’ I said, and was pleased with myself. I could be cool because I’d given up hope of him ever ringing; had trained myself not to think about him. ‘I’ve only just come through the door and I’ve got a million things to do.’
‘Aaah, that’s a shame, because I was going to chat you up,’ Jon said.
I heard a crash as Jack reached the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the saucepans. ‘Well, you can if you’re quick about it,’ I said.
‘So what’s the hurry?’
‘If you must know – we’ve got the people coming round who’re buying this flat,’ I said. ‘And I promised my mum I’d make the beds.’
‘Where are you moving to, then?’
I told him and he said it was much nearer to where he lived. ‘So I’ll be able to see you properly.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, thinking that I wasn’t going to get too excited.
‘What I was thinking about was us going out on a Saturday during the day. We could go into town, take a walk, have a bite to eat.’
‘When?’ I asked guardedly.
‘Next Saturday? I could meet you in town. By the station, say.’
‘Can I bring Jack?’ I asked. ‘He likes going for walks.’ I didn’t have to bring Jack, I might have been able to leave him with Ellie, but it was a test.
‘Mmm,’ Jon said.
‘What’s that mean?’
‘It means I’m thinking about it. It wasn’t what I had in mind, quite honestly.’
‘What did you have in mind, then?’ From the kitchen I heard a rhythmic bang-bang-bang as Jack crashed two lids together.
‘Well, I was thinking of walking you back to my place. I’ve got the house to myself for the weekend.’
‘Aaah,’ I said, and red DANGER flags started flapping in my head. ‘That’s not a walk and a bite to eat, is it? I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
‘I hardly know you.’
‘So? I’m not suggesting anything. Just an afternoon to ourselves and a chat, that’s all.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got anyone to look after Jack, and a jolly day out with a baby obviously isn’t what you had in mind.’
There was a silence – apart from all the noise from Jack – and then Jon said, ‘Well, if you change your mind.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Otherwise – see you.’
‘See you,’ he echoed.
But it was obvious that I wouldn’t.
Chapter Sixteen
When George came in, he was still in a bad mood. I didn’t care, though, because I was in a bad mood, too. Mostly this was because what Mark and Michelle had both warned me of had turned out to be right. Jon, spelled J-O-N, was only after one thing. Was everyone, I wondered? Was I ever going to meet someone who wasn’t? Why didn’t someone love me obsessively and blindly and passionately, like Heathcliff had loved Cathy? Or didn’t people love other people like that any more?
‘That child’s table manners are appalling,’ George said when we were in the kitchen having tea.
‘Give him a chance,’ I said. ‘He’s only just started to feed himself.’
As Jack gnawed on a piece of half-chewed rusk, dribble all down his face, George looked away in disgust. ‘Perhaps in the new house, children’s mealtimes could be at a different time from those of adults.’
‘When you first came you wanted us all to eat together,’ I pointed out. ‘And anyway, Jack’s had his tea. I’m just keeping him quiet with that rusk.’
Mum said, ‘Oh come on, George – Jack’s not that bad. And children grow up so quickly.’
‘One of yours has had a child of her own before she’s grown up!’ George retorted. ‘It means we – you and I – have got to raise two generations.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I said, ‘I’ll be getting my own place as soon as I possibly can.’
‘That’s enough!’ Mum said. ‘Now, I’ve bought an apple crumble. Custard or ice cream with it?’
After we’d eaten Ellie went off to her friend’s house to watch a video and I decided to write to Luke – Jack’s daddy – and send him some of the latest photos of his son. Luke might not be earning any money now but when he’d finished at uni he would, and I wanted to make sure Jack was in with a c
hance when it came to getting some.
I went to rummage around in my bedroom for some decent writing paper, leaving Mum and George in the kitchen discussing what to say about moving dates to the people who were buying the flat. Jack was in the sitting room with some of his toys and I was going to try to keep him awake until the buyers had been.
Finding a writing pad took longer than I thought, so I was away from him for five or six minutes. Witch’s Brew called, wanting to talk to Mum about when we were moving, and Mum was still at the door chatting to her when I heard a noise like a slap – well, it was a slap – and George saying, ‘Get off, you bloody kid!’
I ran into the sitting-room. George was standing by the window and Jack was on the floor with some screwed up paper beside him. Jack look startled, pale and shocked.
‘What have you done?’ I shouted at George, and I snatched up Jack. Lifting him suddenly made him take in a great gasp of air so that he began screaming.
‘What have you done?’ I shouted again at George. I looked carefully along Jack’s arms, face and legs and then I saw it: on his bare leg was a red weal, a raised handprint. ‘You beast! You’ve really hurt him!’ I said, and began crying myself.
‘He deserved it. Look what he’s done!’ George said, his voice shaking with rage. ‘He – that blasted child – got into my briefcase. He’s destroyed some important legal documents that arrived this morning.’
‘So?’
‘So he’s got to be taught. Got to understand the meaning of the word “no”.’
‘He’s just a baby! How… how dare you smack him! He’s my baby. He’s nothing to do with you!’
‘Is that right? Nothing to do with me? How come I’m paying for his food and clothing and the roof over his head, then?’
There was no answer to this and I just stood there, Jack sobbing on my shoulder, frightened and hurt. Mum came in from the hall. ‘What on earth’s going on? Why are you two rowing again?’
‘He hit Jack!’ I said.
‘It was just a smack,’ George said. ‘The child got into my briefcase – destroyed some important papers. It was an instinctive reaction.’
