The Summer of Telling Tales

by Laura Summers

  I hurry out of school but instead of going home I head down to town. It’s quarter to five. I’ve got just fifteen minutes. I run along the high street until I get to the charity shop on the corner, then whizz inside and start rooting like a maniac through all the second-hand clothes hanging on the rails. The little old lady in charge tries to steer me towards stuff that would look OK on a teenager my size but I’m more interested in a patterned silk blouse size twenty-four and a faded blue velvet maternity dress.

  She takes pity on me and lets me have both items for two pounds. I thank her and she throws in a vest top.

  ‘This would look lovely on you dear,’ she whispers. ‘Much better than those other frumpy things. You really should watch one of those nice style programmes on telly. Pick up a few tips.’

  Stifling a laugh, I thank her and head back to the caravan. Inside, Mum is busy cooking tea with Grace.

  ‘Hi, Ellie, good day at school?’

  ‘Great.’ I dive into the little bedroom and shut the door behind me.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Mum asks.

  ‘Nothing!’ I reply. ‘Just don’t come in.’

  Chapter 50

  Grace

  Ellie comes out for tea, gobbles it down, then straight after dives back into the bedroom.

  ‘What are you doing in there?’ Mum asks, trying to crane her head around the door.

  ‘Homework . . . sort of,’ Ellie replies, quickly closing the door on her.

  Mum looks at me for more information.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I tell her, ‘but I don’t think it’s going that well.’

  I’m right. Whatever she’s up to is going pear-shaped. From time to time we hear ripping noises then growls and a few choice swear words.

  In the end Mum’s had enough.

  ‘Ellie, come out here, right now.’

  The door slowly opens.

  ‘What is going on?’

  Ellie pulls a face and shuts her eyes.

  ‘A bloody great big disaster!’ she wails.

  ‘Ellie!’

  I edge past them into the bedroom. It looks like an explosion in a rag factory. There are bits of fabric everywhere.

  ‘It should be easy!’ Ellie complains. ‘You’re always snipping up stuff, making lovely dresses and things.’

  ‘Where did you get all that material?’ Mum asks.

  The remains of a grey woollen dress lying on the bottom bunk looks strangely like Cait’s costume. My mouth drops open.

  ‘Oh Ellie . . . you didn’t —’

  ‘Look, I did exactly what you do. I can’t help it if it won’t behave!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Mum asks.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I tell her. ‘Maybe I’ll just help Ellie for a bit.’

  Mum goes out shaking her head as I pick up the grey dress. There are rips and tears and one of the arms is completely missing. The whole thing looks as if it’s been in a fight with a shredder.

  ‘I’m going to be in so much trouble,’ Ellie says. ‘Cait will think I’ve done it on purpose but I just wanted her to look good.’

  ‘You should have asked me to help,’ I tell her.

  ‘But then it wouldn’t have been me putting things right,’ she protests. ‘It would have been you.’

  ‘Ellie, you stick to the brilliant ideas and let me handle the practical stuff,’ I retort. ‘It’s called teamwork.’

  I get Gran’s sewing box down from the shelf and find a reel of grey thread and some pins. I make Ellie put on the dress so I can see better what needs to be done then hunt through the remains of the material for useable pieces. I cut off the other sleeve from the grey dress, tidy up the ripped one and then use the silk blouse to make new sleeves. With the rest of the silk I sew a panel for the front of the dress up to the neckline. Lastly, I cut up the velvet maternity dress to make an overskirt, gathering it slightly round the waist and tucking it under. Ellie is about Cait’s size so I make a few nips and tucks to make the whole thing more flattering.

  It takes ages because I’m doing everything by hand but finally it’s finished. There’s nothing else I can do and it’s late.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Mum gasps in surprise when we show her.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ I say, just slightly smugly, as Ellie takes off the dress and carefully folds it.

  ‘Let’s hope Cait likes it,’ she says.

  ‘Too late if she doesn’t,’ I retort.

  We leave for school early the next day so we can return Cait’s costume without anyone seeing us.

  But as Ellie’s placing it back on the rail, Mad Mulligan comes into the hall with a stack of wigs.

  ‘What are you doing Elle?’ she asks.

  ‘Um . . . I . . . um, we . . . we’ve sorted Cait’s dress.’

  Anxiously Ellie holds up the dress as Mad Mulligan peers at it closely.

  ‘You did this, Elle?’

  ‘No, it was my idea, but Grace did all the sewing.’

  ‘This is good, very good.’

  ‘She wants to be a fashion designer, don’t you?’

  I nod, wishing I could say something. I might be able to talk to Mum, Ryan and his dad, as well as to Ellie now, but with anyone else I’m still struck dumb.

  ‘In that case, maybe you’ll help me out with some of the other costumes?’ she asks.

  I smile and nod and this seems to be good enough for Mad Mulligan.

  She hands me another dress from the rail. ‘This is supposed to be a ball gown, but it looks more panto than glam at the moment.’

  I look at the dress and immediately know exactly what I’d do to improve it.

  ‘Well, what d’you think?’ she asks.

  I want to tell her my plan but as usual no words come out. I can feel my face reddening with embarrassment and frustration.

  ‘Erm . . . Grace doesn’t talk much,’ Ellie mumbles after a few moments.

  ‘Oh . . . OK,’ Mulligan says as if this were the most normal thing in the world. ‘Well . . . fair enough, it’s your design skills I’m interested in. A lot of these costumes are going to need tarting up and I just don’t have the time, but if you help, Grace, we’ll photograph everything and put together a professional portfolio for you. It’ll help get you into a good art college when you leave here.’

  As the bell rings for the start of school, she tells me I can work in her office any time I want and also have a small budget for buying all materials I need. Best of all, she promises to get hold of a sewing machine which she’ll show me how to use.

  ‘I’m really sorry for dropping you in it, Grace,’ Ellie whispers as we head out of the hall. ‘I didn’t mean that to happen.’

  But I’m in my element. I can’t wait to get started.

  Chapter 51

  Ellie

  ‘Miss, it’s gorgeous!’ Cait says, twirling around in her new improved dress. ‘I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Well, you’ve got Elle and her sister to thank. It was her idea and Grace did all the sewing,’ Mad Mulligan tells her.

  Cait’s jaw drops open as she stares at me in astonishment.

  ‘Grace will be helping out with some of the other costumes so —’

  ‘Miss! Miss! Can she sort mine, Miss – ple-ase!’ Ruby begs.

  ‘And mine!’ calls another girl.

  Suddenly Mad Mulligan is surrounded by half the cast, all pleading to have their costumes upgraded. As she tries to restore some sort of order, Cait comes over to me, the skirt of her dress swishing as she walks.

  ‘You look good,’ I tell her nervously.

  ‘Thanks.’

  There’s an awkward pause. I toe a white line on the hall floor as she hovers nearby.

  ‘Want to go into town later?’ I blurt out before I have time to change my mind.

  ‘I’m meeting PJ,’ she replies.

  ‘Another day then?’

  She shrugs. ‘Yeah . . .’

  I turn away disappointed. It’s obvious she’s just fobbing me off.


  ‘Whatever. . .’ I mumble, as if I don’t care at all.

  ‘I would but . . . but PJ doesn’t like me hanging around with other people.’

  She gives me a tight smile then her eyes dart to the back of the hall. One of the doors is open slightly and I can see him, coming down the corridor.

  ‘Better go,’ she says.

  I watch as she hurries over to him. She twirls around in her dress but his reaction is lukewarm and although she tries to hide it, the disappointment shows on her face. He picks up one of the wigs from the box and plonks it on her head the wrong way round, getting a laugh from a couple of the boys nearby. She pulls it off but doesn’t say anything. He tells her to stop sulking, he’s only joking . . . even though she looks better with it on.

  A few minutes later Mulligan calls us all to get in our places, ready to begin rehearsing. Dressed up in our costumes, the excitement spreads through the cast like electricity as Mulligan encourages, persuades and bullies us all into better and better performances. But I don’t care if she shouts – I’m enjoying every minute. And even though Cait and I still aren’t friends like we used to be, a rush of happiness floods through me, and for the first time ever, I realise I don’t want to be anyone else any more. Plain old Ellie Smith suits me fine.

  And I’m not the only one who’s changed. Grace gets busy with the costumes both at home and school and the ones she finishes are totally amazing – they’re bold and imaginative – like something off a catwalk. Most days now, the caravan is festooned with long dresses, cloaks and hats. Mum’s pretty good about the place being turned into a costume factory and even helps Grace with the sewing sometimes, singing along to tunes on the radio as she works. As promised, Mad Mulligan has helped Grace photograph each one and she’s mounted them all professionally and put them in a special portfolio. I told Grace she should make a list of them all but she just looked at me as if I were bonkers and said, ‘Life’s too short for lists, Ellie!’ And then she laughed.

  After school, and at weekends, when she’s not sewing costumes, she’s at Ryan’s rehearsing for Beachfest. There are posters all around town now and the local radio station is advertising it every day. Abs, Ruby and I have already got our tickets and everyone at school’s talking about it. Grace let me watch one of their rehearsals last Saturday at the community hall, and I couldn’t believe how good The Damage were.

  On the way back we bumped into Susan. She asked how my stories were going. I didn’t want to tell her, but basically they’re not. I stopped writing a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘When I re-read them, they just sounded stupid,’ I finally admitted.

  ‘Don’t give up,’ she replied. ‘Write what’s real to you. Something you know about.’

  ‘I’m only thirteen. What do I know about anything?’ I replied jokily.

  It was only after we got back to the caravan, I realised I did have a story to tell, but one that I’ll never in a million years let anyone else read.

  I started a few days ago, secretly writing about Dad, putting down everything I can’t tell anyone about in that purple patterned notebook. When I finish a few pages, I close up the book and hide it under my bunk, and it feels good because it’s as if I’ve put him away too, so I can forget him for a while and get on with my life.

  Chapter 52

  Grace

  It’s the day before Beachfest and I’m getting nervous even though we’ve rehearsed our socks off for the last few weeks. We’ve got one final practice this evening, and then that’s it.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Ellie tells me as we walk home after school. I’m carrying the last costume Mad Mulligan wants altered – Ellie’s – and planning to work on it before I go to Ryan’s, or as Ellie calls it, my second home.

  ‘Just make sure you do something extra special with it,’ Ellie tells me. ‘I want to look really glam!’

  ‘OK, how about a great big bottom bustle in custard yellow and some giant lime green shoulder pads out to here?’ I joke, holding my hands a metre apart.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she warns me.

  The door to the caravan is open. Bruno is tied up outside and looks at us dolefully as we give him a quick cuddle.

  ‘Mum must have left work early,’ Ellie says. ‘Hope she’s bought something nice back for tea —’

  We step inside the caravan and freeze in horror. Dad is sitting at the little caravan table. Mum is in the seat opposite him. All that divides them is a teapot, two mugs and a plate of Hobnobs. She’s sitting perfectly still with a fragile smile on her lips but as Dad turns to us, I see a wild, fearful look escape from her eyes.

  ‘What the hell have you done to your hair?’ Dad snaps at Ellie, as if he last saw her this morning. ‘That muck better wash out, young lady. You look like a freak!’ He turns back to Mum and demands, ‘What sort of mother lets her daughter go around looking like that?’

  None of us says a word. Ellie bites her lip. There is a deathly silence.

  ‘Great. You haven’t seen your dad for weeks and you both stand there like a couple of stuffed dummies.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asks Ellie finally, with a tremor in her voice.

  ‘What does it look like?’ he retorts. ‘Your mum and I are having a nice cup of tea.’

  I glance at Mum but she avoids my eye, quickly looking down at her untouched mug.

  ‘Well, this is all very nice, isn’t it?’ he adds.

  No one replies.

  ‘Isn’t it, Karin?’

  Mum nods.

  ‘I’ve had one hell of a drive today, what with the car playing up and overheating, so I’ve decided we’ll go home tomorrow evening when you two get back from school and I’ve had a bit of a rest.’

  ‘Home? But -’

  ‘The holiday’s over,’ he insists. ‘I’ve forgiven your mum and everything’s sorted.’

  Still Mum doesn’t speak. Inside I’m crying out for her to shout and stamp and stand up to him.

  ‘Mum?’ Ellie pleads quietly as we both look to her to do something.

  ‘Tell them, Karin,’ Dad orders. ‘And you can give me your car keys too. I’ll keep them nice and safe till tomorrow.’

  Mum opens her bag and hands over her car keys. As she struggles to speak, I know from the look on her face what she’s going to say before the words come out. My heart sinks as all our hopes and plans and dreams crumble to dust around us.

  ‘We’re going . . . back,’ she whispers.

  ‘Course we are!’ Dad snaps. ‘It’s high time things returned to normal.’

  ‘But we can’t!’ Ellie protests. ‘Grace is playing in a festival and I’m in the school play next week.’

  Dad gives a little hollow laugh. ‘I’m sure they’ll do just fine without our little Drama Queen prancing about on stage looking ridiculous, and Grace is talented enough to play in any number of concerts back home.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘No buts, Ellie, I don’t want to hear another word.’

  ‘I’m not going,’ she says timidly.

  He glares at her. She shrinks back.

  ‘What?’ His voice is quiet now.

  She falters a little, knowing what she’s doing is dangerous.

  ‘What did you say?’

  She takes a deep breath. I can’t help silently urging her on.

  ‘I’m not going.’

  Dad’s lips purse together and his eyes narrow. ‘You’ll do as I say.’

  Mum starts to fidget. ‘Course she will, Adam. It’s OK, Ellie doesn’t mean it, do you? Your dad’s right, there’ll be lots of other plays and concerts back home. Tell him you don’t mean it, Ellie. There’s a good girl.’

  ‘I do mean it!’ Ellie protests. ’I’m not going back!’

  ‘Ell-ie . . . please, ’ Mum pleads, eyeing Dad fearfully, as his grip tightens on his mug of tea.

  Instinctively, she stands up. But she’s too late – Dad lobs the mug at Ellie. It hits her arm hard and scalding tea splashes over her before it sma
shes on the floor.

  Ellie bites back a yelp of pain and runs into our bedroom.

  ‘Leave her!’ Dad orders Mum, grabbing her wrist and twisting it as she attempts to follow her. He turns to me. ‘And what about Grace? What have you got to say?’

  Petrified, I stare at him dumbly, my thoughts churning as my face remains a mask. My mouth is dry and I feel sick. I’ve got a hundred things I want to say but I’m too frightened to make one little sound.

  ‘That’s settled then. Now how about something to eat? I’m tired and I’m hungry. Ellie can stay in that room all evening. I don’t want to see her sulky little face.’

  He sits back down again, taking out a postcard from his shirt pocket as Mum hurries to prepare his tea. I glance over and recognise the circle of stones. When he turns the postcard over, I see it’s addressed to Auntie Anna in Ellie’s handwriting.

  ‘Took this out of your dozy cow of a sister’s letter box, before she even saw it,’ he tells Mum. ‘You should tell her to get the lock mended on that box. Anyone could nick stuff from there.’ He gives a dismissive tut and adds, ‘Dancing Maids! What utter baloney!’

  Chapter 53

  Ellie

  I lie here in my little bunk under the covers, secretly writing in my purple notebook. It’s getting late now, half nine.

  ‘I sneaked this when he wasn’t looking,’ Grace says handing me half a cold pasty. In the other room we can hear Dad’s voice. I nibble at the crust but I’m not hungry any more. Grace looks out of the tiny caravan window into the darkness.

  ‘You missed your rehearsal,’ I tell her.

  ‘I know. Thank goodness Ryan didn’t turn up here looking for me. Dad’s already angry enough.’

  ‘But how did he find us?’

  She pulls a face and avoids my eye and then I remember the postcard.

  ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it? I sent a card to Auntie Anna.’

  ‘He’s brought it with him.’

  I bury my face in my hands as I hear his triumphant voice in my head. I’ll always find you out, Ellie. Always.