‘What?’ said Mum. ‘Jess is very small for her age!’
‘I assumed she was a toddler and you’d come to register her for the kindergarten class,’ said the chubby lady. She patted my shoulder playfully. ‘Unless you’re a very, very advanced three-year-old I’m afraid we can’t take you!’ She laughed merrily.
Mum didn’t smile. ‘She’s ten and we’d like her to start your Year Six in September. Please,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. We’ve only got one form per year and there are already thirty in our top class, which is stretching things.’
‘Yes, but one little Jess isn’t going to make a difference,’ Mum argued. ‘She’s hardly going to take up much room, is she? She’s very well behaved and was top of the class in her last school. She’d be a positive asset to Year Six.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, but I’m afraid rules are rules.’
‘Well, could you at least put her on your waiting list?’ Mum suggested.
‘I could do that, but it would be a complete waste of time. Jess would be thirteen or fourteen by the time she got to the top of the list, and then she’d obviously be needing to attend secondary school,’ she said.
‘But this is such a mad system,’ said Mum. ‘Jess can’t help being a newcomer. There must be some school that has a place for her. Surely it’s a legal requirement?’
‘Well, I imagine Faraday could take her on,’ said the lady. I didn’t like the way she said the word Faraday, wrinkling her nose.
‘Faraday?’ Mum glanced at Mary’s email. It wasn’t on the list.
‘I’ll give you the address if you like,’ said Chubby Chops. I’d gone off her now. ‘Though I have to warn you that it’s currently in special measures, so it could be closed down soon. They’ve lost a lot of their pupils to Primrose.’
‘How could it be worse than a place with barbed wire?’ said Mum.
‘It’s not worse, exactly,’ Chubby replied.
‘So why exactly is it in special measures, whatever they are?’
‘It’s had a lot of staffing problems – and the building isn’t really fit for purpose. And some of the children can be a bit wild. There’s no parental support,’ she confided.
‘Maybe that’s not the children’s fault,’ Mum said stiffly. ‘Thank you. We’ll go and give it a try.’
We set off again. Faraday was back on the other side of Cooksea, near the estate. It was going to be a very long walk.
‘Oh God, I’m getting a blister! Why on earth didn’t I wear my boots?’ Mum moaned. ‘What’s up, Jess? Are your feet hurting too?’
I was trying to picture Faraday. I didn’t like the sound of wild children. I imagined them big and tough, twice my size. They’d be fiercer than Tyrone. Fiercer than Jordan.
‘Do we really have to go to this Faraday, Mum? Why do I have to go to school? Couldn’t I just get books out of the library and read a lot?’ I asked. ‘Or maybe Mary could set me lessons. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’
‘Mary’s not your teacher any more,’ she said. ‘And you have to go to school. It’s the law.’
‘No it’s not,’ I argued. ‘You could home-school me.’
‘For goodness’ sake, you already know more than me, Miss Clever. I’m pig-ignorant precisely because I didn’t settle down and work hard at school. I fell behind and didn’t know what the teacher was on about – I had to play the class joker so I didn’t look like an idiot. Only the joke was on me. Learn by my mistakes, kid,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t want to end up stooo-pid like me.’
‘You’re the cleverest person I know,’ I said.
Mum had switched to an American accent for comic effect, and it reminded me uncomfortably of Jordan.
‘Mum, why did that lady back at Lockwood say they let children in care into their school?’ I asked.
‘I think it’s some kind of rule. It’s because you get moved around a lot when you’re in care, especially nowadays.’
‘Like all over the country, away from all your friends?’
‘Yep, it happens a lot,’ said Mum. ‘I got off quite lightly compared to kids nowadays. Some move twenty or thirty times, even more. You know that! Look at Cam’s girls.’
Cam’s girls! I was so stupid. Surely Jordan could go there? Cam would look after her and sort her out. She never gave up on anyone. I didn’t like Jordan much any more but I still felt sorry for her. I’d go back to the beach tomorrow morning and tell her all about Cam.
I gave a little skip. Mum laughed and skipped too, in spite of her blister.
‘That’s the ticket. No more long faces. I’m sure this Faraday place will turn out nicer than all the others, in spite of being in these silly special measures,’ she said.
She actually turned out to be right too! Admittedly Faraday Primary looked pretty grotty. The school building was very old, with scaffolding at one end.
There were rude words and silly pictures spray-painted all along the walls. It didn’t have a proper electronic gate, just an old wooden one that swung open easily.
Mum and I looked at each other, and then walked into the playground without bothering to ring any bell. Then we stopped. At the side of the building there was a man on his hands and knees in the earth, with a cluster of children around him. Some had trowels, some had trugs, and two boys were lugging a watering can. They were gardening!
‘Fancy bothering with a gardener when the school is such a mess,’ Mum murmured to me. Not quite quietly enough.
‘We’re gardening because it’s more fun watching our tomatoes grow,’ said the man. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. ‘Want to join in? We’re digging up potatoes today.’
I looked at Mum. She was screwing up her face. ‘I think she’d better wait till after she’s seen the head teacher. I don’t want her to get all mucky or they’ll think I’m a rubbish mum,’ she explained.
‘He won’t think that at all, I promise you.’ The man stood up and brushed himself down as best he could. His hands were filthy so he left dirty smudges on his checked shirt and jeans. He winced a bit as he straightened up, rubbing the small of his back.
‘I’m going to need a very hot bath when I get home. I’m getting a bit long in the tooth for gardening. But I’ve got a few years before I retire from my main job. I’m Jeff Harper, head of Faraday Primary.’ He offered his hand automatically and then laughed when he noticed it was crusted with earth. ‘I’ll let you off shaking it,’ he said.
‘I’m Tracy Beaker and this is my daughter, Jess,’ said Mum. ‘So are these all your children?’
‘Heavens, no! They’re my special gardening club,’ he said.
‘We’re in charge of the gardening, aren’t we, Mr Harper?’ said a little boy proudly.
‘You bet you are, Michael.’
‘Haven’t you broken up yet?’ Mum asked.
‘Yep, but the children come in whenever they can to keep the garden going,’ said Mr Harper.
‘And we get to eat the tomatoes!’ said another boy.
‘And we pick the flowers. I take them home to my mum,’ said a girl.
‘And then next week some of the new Year Sixes are coming to help me blast off the graffiti and we’ll work on fixing the gate. Michael’s dad is in the building trade, and when he’s finished fitting a kitchen he’s going to see if he and his mate can patch up the roof,’ said Mr Harper. ‘We’re all working together to make Faraday a little palace, inside and out.’
‘So how did it get so run down?’ Mum asked.
‘You ask some very direct questions, Tracy Beaker!’ said Mr Harper. ‘And rightly so. I expect you’ve been told that Faraday is in special measures. I’ve been called in to set it to rights. And I’m going to, I promise you.’
Mum grinned. ‘I bet you are,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of sending Jess here. I think she’d love all this gardening lark. But I want her to be taught proper lessons too so she gets to pass her exams. She’s very bright.’
‘Mum!’ I sa
id, going red.
‘Well, you are. Top of the class at Duke Primary, but we’ve moved here now.’
‘Don’t worry, I want all the children here to have proper lessons too. I want them to be ace at English and maths, and little whizzes at IT and football, and great at painting and drama, and able to play an instrument, even if it’s just a triangle, so we can have a proper school band. Do you fancy a go on the drums, Jess?’
‘Yes please!’ I said. ‘Mum, can I come here?’
‘If Mr Harper will have you,’ said Mum. She was smiling at him. I suddenly wondered if Mr Harper was married. He was quite a bit older than Mum, but that didn’t really matter, did it?
‘Have you got any questions, Jess?’ he asked.
Yes, I did! I thought quickly.
‘Doesn’t Mrs Harper mind you coming into school in the holidays?’ I asked.
He laughed. ‘She sometimes comes and helps too. And she gives me tips. She’s a landscape gardener by profession.’
‘Oh, that’s lucky,’ I said, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
Mum gave me a right telling off on the way home. ‘You practically asked him outright if he was married! Honestly, Jess!’
‘Well, I wanted to know. He’d have been a lovely boyfriend for you.’
‘Will you stop this! I don’t want a boyfriend! Get the whole idea out of your head,’ Mum insisted.
‘OK,’ I said. I shook my head as if I was getting water out of my ears. ‘There! All gone.’
But I was fibbing.
STRAIGHT AFTER LUNCH I took Alfie for a walk because he’d been cooped up in the shop with Flo. I was starting to worry about Jordan now. I wanted to tell her about Cam. I looked for her by the ice-cream van. I walked along the promenade. I hung about the beach huts. I went to Seacliff Fields and wandered around – but there was no sign of her.
‘Where’s Jordan, Alfie? Let’s find Jordan. You know her. The boy in the baseball cap. Be a tracker dog, Alfie!’ I said into his silky ear.
He licked me happily, thinking I was simply paying him compliments. We did another circuit, but then I gave up and went home, feeling a bit anxious. I told myself firmly that Jordan had simply taken herself off for a walk somewhere. Perhaps she’d gone right up to the other end of the beach. There was another ice-cream van there. She was probably snatching some other kid’s cone right this minute.
She wasn’t a very nice girl at all. She didn’t really want to be friends with me. She was just using me. But I’d stood up to her! I’d shown her I wasn’t a pushover. I wasn’t daft enough to go shoplifting with her. I knew it was wrong, no matter what she said. And I also knew Mum would die of shame if I got caught.
I’d make some proper friends when I started at Faraday Primary in September. The children had seemed quite friendly. One girl had even lent me her trowel so I could do some weeding while Mum sorted out my registration with Mr Harper. She was called Natalie. Two of the boys kept calling her Nitalie, but she just stuck her tongue out at them and raised her eyebrows at me.
‘Boys!’ she said.
‘I know. Pathetic,’ I replied, and we’d grinned at each other.
Natalie seemed to be about my age. I hoped she would be in Year Six too. Maybe we could make friends properly then. I could join the gardening club. When I knew all about digging and planting I could make my own little garden in Flo’s back yard.
When we returned to the shop I had a good peer out the back. There was a pile of old junk under the lean-to, waiting to be sorted for stock, and an old bath with wonky legs, and the patch of earth where Alfie liked to hide his bones. I tried to imagine honeysuckle climbing up the lean-to, pansies and snap-dragons growing in the bath, and a little apple tree in the patch of earth, with bluebells growing all around. We could plant Mary’s echinacea in the middle, in pride of place.
I went back indoors and drew a picture of my garden ideas. I was still colouring it in when one of Flo’s old acting friends, a sweet, pink-faced old man in a checked shirt and red trousers, came to call on her. He was called Lawrence and he was very proud still to be working in one of the long-running TV soaps. He played a vague old grandad, forever forgetting things, but in real life he was as sharp as a tack. He clearly thought the world of Flo and gave her a bunch of scented freesias and a box of Hotel Chocolat assorted creams.
‘Oh, Lawrence darling, you know exactly how to spoil a girl,’ Flo said, giggling with pleasure. ‘Ever the gentleman!’
‘Well, my dear Florence, you’re ever the lady,’ he said, and he picked up one of her plump hands and gave it a kiss.
Mum caught my eye and we both mouthed, Aaah!
Lawrence was lovely with Mum and praised the shop windows and all the displays inside. ‘You’re so artistic, Tracy! How lucky for Florence that you’ve gone into partnership with her!’ he exclaimed.
‘How lucky for me!’ said Mum.
‘And you clearly take after your mother, Jess,’ Lawrence said, looking at my garden picture. ‘I love the way you’ve done all the flowers. You’ve got such a delicate touch.’
It was Lawrence himself who had the delicate touch, saying just the right thing to each of us. I went into the kitchen to help Mum make tea and we both cooed over Lawrence while the kettle boiled.
‘Why can’t all men be like lovely Lawrence?’ Mum whispered. ‘Isn’t he priceless? And Flo’s blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl, bless her.’
‘So you like older men, do you, Mum?’ I asked. Bill was quite a bit older than her, so this was a good sign.
‘If they’re like Lawrence,’ she said.
I couldn’t pretend even to myself that Bill was remotely like Lawrence, but I still hoped that they’d hit it off. I was relying on Bill to make a move at next Sunday’s boot sale.
But it turned out I didn’t have to wait that long. That evening Mum and Flo and I were sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea. We’d persuaded Lawrence to stay for a quick supper. It was just macaroni, but he said it was the most delicious mac and cheese he’d ever tasted, whizzing him right back to his childhood. He smacked his lips together enthusiastically, and actually begged for a second helping.
He’d only just driven off in his car, and we were all chatting about him.
‘Did you ever have a fling with him, Flo?’ Mum asked.
‘Of course I did!’ she said. ‘Along with a few dozen other ladies! Lawrence was even more of a charmer in the old days. Though he’s still very spry now.’
‘Maybe you could have another fling for old times’ sake?’ Mum teased. ‘He seems very keen.’
‘Darling, I’m way past flings, though I must admit seeing Lawrence has been a real tonic,’ said Flo.
There was the sudden sound of the shop bell. Alfie started barking excitedly.
‘Hey, I think he’s come back!’ Mum went through to the front, singing out, ‘Coming!’ We heard her open the door and then go, ‘Oh!’
A man’s voice said something.
‘Is that Lawrence?’ Flo asked. ‘It doesn’t sound like him. Don’t say I’ve got two gentleman callers in one day!’ She gave me a nudge. ‘Go and have a peep, Jess.’
I peered round the kitchen door. Mum was standing in the doorway, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other. I couldn’t make out the man standing outside – but I knew his voice!
I went charging back into the kitchen. ‘It looks like Mum’s got a gentleman caller now!’ I announced happily.
‘Not Sean the Superstud again?’ said Flo.
‘Ew, not him! It’s Bill!’ I said, giving her hand a squeeze.
‘Bill?’ She looked blank.
‘You know! He has the bacon-roll van at the boot fair.’
‘That Bill? I wonder what he wants,’ Flo said. ‘Better pop the kettle on, Jess, in case your mum invites him in. I hope she does. Nice bloke, Bill.’
‘I’ve got a feeling he’s inviting Mum out!’ I said.
‘Never! Oh, Jess, you do get some funny notions in tha
t noddle of yours!’
Mum came scurrying through the shop into the kitchen, leaving Bill standing at the door. She was very pink in the face. ‘You’ll never guess what!’ she hissed.
‘What, Mum?’ I asked, as innocently as I could.
‘It’s Bill – you know, Bacon Roll Bill. He’s asking me out!’
‘Really!’ I said, giving Flo a meaningful nod.
‘Well I never!’ she said.
‘He’s asking me to the Indian restaurant over the road. I told him I’d already eaten, but he wants me to come anyway, for a beer and a few poppadoms while he has a curry.’ Mum sounded bewildered.
Flo burst out laughing. ‘That sounds dead romantic – not!’ she spluttered.
‘Don’t be mean, Flo! He can’t help not being romantic like Lawrence. He’s lovely in his own way,’ I said. ‘Isn’t he, Mum?’
‘Well, I suppose. But I don’t want to go over the road with him while he has his wretched curry! How can I get out of it without hurting his feelings?’ she whispered.
‘You’ve got to go, Mum! You can’t let him down!’ I said.
‘Did he say what he wants?’ Flo asked. ‘Can’t we tell him to get his curry and then come and eat it here?’
‘He says he’d like to have a private little chat with me,’ said Mum. ‘He looks very serious, as if he’s got something on his mind. Oh dear, I suppose I’d better go.’
She grabbed her jacket and bag. ‘If I’m not back in an hour, can you help Flo to bed and then put yourself to bed too, Jess? I’ll come and tuck you up when I get back.’
‘Aren’t you going to brush your hair and put some lippy on, Mum?’ I suggested.
‘Come on! It’s not like I’m going on a date!’ she said.
‘You might be.’
Mum stared at me. ‘What do you mean, Jess Beaker?’ she demanded.
But Bill was calling her name and stepping into the shop. ‘Are you coming, Tracy?’
We Are the Beaker Girls Page 11
