The Illustrated Mum
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Copyright
About the Author
Also by Jacqueline Wilson
Dedication
The Illustrated Mum
1 Cross
2 Marigold
3 Dolphin
4 Daisy Chain
5 Micky Heart
6 Star
7 Sorceress
8 Eye
9 Serpent
10 Bats
11 Frog
12 Scream
13 Diamonds
14 The Full Picture
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Epub ISBN: 9781407045177
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THE ILLUSTRATED MUM
A CORGI YEARLING BOOK 978 0 440 86781 4
First published in Great Britain by Doubleday an imprint of Random House Children’s Books
Doubleday edition
Published 1999
First Corgi Yearling edition published 2000
This Corgi Yearling edition published 2007
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 1999
Illustrations copyright © Nick Sharratt, 1999
The right of Jacqueline Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
THE RANDOM HOUSE GROUP Limited Reg. No. 954009
www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JACQUELINE WILSON is one of Britain’s most outstanding writers for young readers. She is the most borrowed author from British libraries and has sold over 20 million books in this country. As a child, she always wanted to be a writer and wrote her first ‘novel’ when she was nine, filling countless exercise books as she grew up. She started work at a publishing company and then went on to work as a journalist on Jackie magazine (which was named after her) before turning to writing fiction full-time.
Jacqueline has been honoured with many of the UK’s top awards for children’s books, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award, the Smarties Prize, the Red House Book Award and the Children’s Book of the Year. She was awarded an OBE in 2002 and is the Children’s Laureate for 2005–2007.
WINNER OF THE GUARDIAN CHILDREN’S FICTION
AWARD AND THE CHILDREN’S BOOK OF THE YEAR
Children often ask me if I base the characters in my books on real people. I always say truthfully that I make all my people up. They’re like my imaginary friends. I just have to start thinking about them and they’re there in my head, talking to me! However, just occasionally I see someone who interests me and inspires a whole book. This happened with The Illustrated Mum.
I was having a very happy holiday in New York with my daughter Emma. We’d had a wonderful day looking round the shops and going round the Metropolitan museum, and ended up sitting eating ice creams in Central Park. It’s a fantastic huge park right in the middle of Manhattan, and it’s a great place for people-watching. Kids roller-blade up and down the paths, old men play chess together at tables, old ladies knit sitting on benches, couples kiss under the trees, joggers power past in their grey sweatsuits, and toddlers stagger along sucking their thumbs, their mommies taking them to the children’s zoo.
We watched one particularly striking mother with her two small girls. She was tall and slender with long wild hair, wearing a lacy vest and shorts. Her pale skin was covered with extraordinary intricate tattoos. Her little girls hung on her hands, wearing colourful dressing-up clothes, long net skirts, paste tiaras in their tangled hair, skinny ankles wobbling in big silver high-heeled sandals.
When they’d gone past, Emma whispered to me, ‘Don’t they look like the sort of family you write about in your books!’
I reached for my diary and scribbled a sentence about them as a little reminder. I was busy writing another novel at the time – but that mother and her two daughters stayed in my head, waiting until I was ready to write their story. I was interested in the reason why this mother had quite so many tattoos. I thought hard – and made up Marigold. I made her daughters grow a little and gave them unusual names, Star and Dolphin. I tried to think how they’d feel with such an unusual mother. Star is irritated and embarrassed by Marigold, but Dolphin adores her strange unpredictable mother.
Dolphin tells their story and it’s sometimes frightening and worrying, but I did try to give all three of them a happy ending.
For Gina and Murray
and
Caroline and Georgina
Marigold started going weird again on her birthday. Star remembered that birthdays were often bad times so we’d tried really hard. Star made her a beautiful big card cut into the shape of a marigold. She used up all the ink in the orange felt-tip colouring it in. Then she did two sparkly silver threes with her special glitter pen and added ‘Happy Birthday’ in her best italic writing. They do Calligraphy in Year Eight and she’s very good at it.
I’m still in the Juniors and I’m useless at any kind of writing so I just drew on my card. As it was Marigold’s thirty-third birthday I decided I’d draw her thirty-three most favourite things. I drew Micky (I’d never seen him but Marigold had described him enough times) and Star and me. Then I drew the Rainbow Tattoo Studio and the Victoria Arms and the Nightbirds club. I did them in the middle all clumped together and then round the edges I drew London and the seaside and the stars at night. My piece of paper was getting seriously crowded by this time but I managed to cram in a CD player with lots of Emerald City CDs and some high heels and a bikini and jeans and different coloured tight tops and lots of rings and bangles and earrings.
I was getting a bit stuck for ideas by this time and I’d rubbed out so often that the page was getting furry so I gave up and coloured it in. I wanted to do a pattern of marigolds as a border but Star had used up the orange already, so I turned the marigolds into roses and coloured them crimson. Red roses signify love. Marigold was very into symbols so I hoped she’d understand. Then on the back I did a great garland of red roses to signify a whole bunch of love and signed my name.
We gave her presents too. Star found a remixed version of Emerald City’s greatest hits for only £2 at the Saturday morning market. I bought her a sparkly hair clasp, green to match her eyes. We even bought a special sheet of green tissue paper and a green satin ribbon to wrap up the presents.
‘Do you think she’ll like them?’ I asked Star.
‘You bet,’ said Star. She took the hair clasp and opened it up so its plastic claws looked like teeth. ‘I am a great present,’ she made it say, and then it bit the tip of my nose.
Marigold gave us both big hugs and said we were darlings but her great green eyes filled with tears.
‘She’s crying because she’s happy,’ said Star. ‘Aren’t you, Marigold?’
‘Mm,’ said Marigold. She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was shaking but she managed a smile. ‘There. I’ve stopped crying now, Dol, OK?’
It wasn’t OK. She cried on and off all day. She cried when she listened to the Emerald City CD because she said it reminded her of old times. She cried when I combed her hair out specially and twisted it up into a chic pleat with her new green clasp.
‘God, look at my neck! It’s getting all wrinkly,’ she said. She touched the taut white skin worriedly while we did our best to reassure her. ‘I look so old.’
‘You’re not old at all. You’re young,’ said Star.
‘Thirty-three,’ Marigold said gloomily. ‘I wish you hadn’t written that right slap bang in the middle of your card, darling. I can’t believe thirty-three. That was the age Jesus was when he died, did you know that?’
Marigold knew lots about the Bible because she was once in a Church Home.
‘Thirty-three,’ she kept murmuring. ‘He tried so hard too. He liked kids, he liked bad women, he stuck up for all the alternative people. He’d have been so cool. And what did they do? They stuck him up on a cross and tortured him to death.’
‘Marigold,’ Star said sharply. ‘Look at Dol’s card.’
‘Oh yes, darling, it’s lovely,’ Marigold said. She blinked at it. ‘What’s it meant to be?’
‘Oh, it’s stupid. It’s all a mess,’ I said.
‘It’s all the things you like most,’ said Star.
‘That’s beautiful,’ said Marigold, looking and looking at it. Then she started crying again.
‘Marigold!’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just it makes me feel so awful. Look at the pub and the high heels and the sexy tops. These aren’t mumsie things. Dol should have drawn . . . I don’t know, a kitten and a pretty frock and . . . and Marks and Spencer’s. That’s what mums like.’
‘It’s not what you like and you’re my mum,’ I said.
‘Dol spent ages making you that card,’ said Star. She was starting to get red in the face.
‘I know, I know. It’s lovely. I said. I’m the hopeless case. Don’t you get what I’m saying?’ Marigold sniffed again. ‘Anyway, let’s have breakfast. Hey, can I have my cake now? Birthday cake for breakfast! Great idea, eh, girls?’
We stared at her.
‘We didn’t get you a cake,’ said Star. ‘You know we didn’t. We asked and you said a cake was the very last thing you wanted, remember?’
‘No,’ said Marigold, looking blank.
She’d gone on and on that we mustn’t get her a cake because she was sure she was starting to put on weight and the icing would only give her toothache and anyway she didn’t even like birthday cake.
‘I love birthday cake,’ said Marigold. ‘I always have a special birthday cake. You know how much it means to me because I never had my own special birthday cake when I was a kid. Or a proper party. I hate it that you girls don’t want proper parties and you just go to stupid places like Laser Quest and McDonald’s.’
‘They’re not stupid,’ I said. Star got asked to lots of stuff but I’d never been to a McDonald’s party and no-one had ever asked me to a Laser Quest either. I hoped I’d maybe make lots of friends when I went to the High School. I wasn’t in with the party crowd in my class. Not that I wanted to go to any of their parties. I wouldn’t have been friends with any of that lot if you’d paid me. Except maybe Tasha.
‘OK, OK, I’ll go and get you a birthday cake,’ said Star. ‘Marks and Sparks opens early on a Saturday. You wait.’
She took the housekeeping purse and rushed out, slamming the door.
‘She’s cross with me,’ said Marigold.
‘No, she’s not. She’s going to get you your cake,’ I said.
‘Cross, cross, cross,’ Marigold muttered, frowning. ‘That’s what they used to say in the Home. “I’m very cross with you, Marigold.” This old bat would bring her face right up close to me so that her eyes got so near they crossed too. “Cross, cross, cross,” she’d say, and her spit would spray on my face. She was so mean, that one. She never hit us, she knew she wasn’t allowed, but you could tell she really, really wanted to. She just said stuff. Cross, cross, cross.’
‘Marigold.’ I didn’t know what else to say. I always got a bit scared when she talked like that, muttering fast, playing around with words. I wished Star would hurry back.
‘Just words. Cross words!’
I giggled in case Marigold meant it to be a joke. She looked startled.
‘We have crosswords at school,’ I said quickly. ‘I can’t do them. I’m hopeless at spelling and stuff like that.’
‘Me too,’ said Marigold. ‘I hated school. I was always in trouble.’
‘Yep. Same here,’ I said, hoping that Marigold was better now. I was starving hungry. I took a handful of dry cornflakes to keep me going. Marigold helped herself too.
‘Yet Star’s clever,’ I said. ‘And she’s got even cleverer since she went to the High School. A real old brainy-box.’
‘Well. She obviously takes after her father,’ said Marigold. ‘Micky was the cleverest guy I ever met. So creative and artistic and yet sharp too. You couldn’t ever fool him.’
‘I wish he was my dad too,’ I said.
Marigold patted me sympathetically.
‘Never mind. I’ve got you for my mum.’ I said it to make her happy but it started her off crying again.
‘What kind of a useless stupid mum am I?’ she said.
‘You’re the best ever mum. Please don’t cry again. You’ll make your eyes go all red.’
‘Red eyes, ropey neck, maudlin mood. What a mess! What have I got to show for my thirty-three years, eh? Apart from you two lovely girls. What would Micky make of me if he came back now? He always said I had such potential and yet I haven’t done anything.’
‘You do lots and lots of things. You paint and you make beautiful clothes and you dance and you work at the studio and – and—’
‘If I don’t do something with my life soon I never will. I’m getting old so quickly. If only Micky would come back. I was a different person when I was with him. He made me feel so . . .’ She waved her thin arms in the air, her bangles jangling. ‘Can’t find the words. Come here, Dol.’
She pulled me close for a cuddle. I nestled against her, breathing in her magical musky smell. Her silky red hair tickled me. I stroked it, letting it fan out through my fingers.
‘Your roots need doing soon. And you’ve got a few split ends. I’ll snip them off for you, if you like.’
‘You still going to be a hairdresser, Dol?’
‘You bet,’ I said, turning my fingers into scissors and pretending to chop.
‘I remember when you cut all the hair off your Barbie doll,’ said Marigold.
‘And Star’s too. She was so mad at me.’
‘You girls. I wish I’d had a sister.’
‘Well. You’re like our big sister.’
‘I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life, Dol. Cross. Hey, you know what? How about if I got a cross for a tattoo?’
‘You haven’t got much space left,’ I said, rubbing her decorated arms.
Marigold was examining herself, peering this way and that.
‘How about right here, across my elbow? Brilliant! The cross could go up and down my arm. I need a bit of paper.’ She used the back of my birthday card but I didn’t really mind. She sketched rapidly, her teeth nipping her lower lip as she concentrated. I peered over her shoulder.
‘You’re so good at drawing,’ I said wistfully.
Her hand was still shaking but the pen line was smooth and flowing as she drew an elegant long Celtic cross with roses and ivy twining round it.
‘Roses,’ she said, looking up at me. ‘Like the ones on your card, Dol.’
I felt i
mmensely proud. But also worried. I knew what Star was going to say.
‘It’s a lovely picture,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t you just keep it a picture on paper? We could get a special frame for it and you could hang it over your bed.’
‘I want it to be a picture on me,’ said Marigold, her eyes glittering green. ‘I wonder if Steve’s got any early appointments? I can’t wait! I’ll get him to trace it and do it now. Special birthday present.’ She leapt up. ‘Come on!’
‘But Star’s getting your birthday cake!’
‘Oh!’ She screwed up her face in disappointment. ‘Oh yes. Well, come on, Star. Where’s she got to? Why did she have to go out now to get this cake?’
This was so unfair of Marigold I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She was terrible when she twisted everything about. She always did it when she got worked up. I knew I should tell her she wasn’t being fair to Star but I couldn’t make myself. It was so special being Marigold and me.
Star was ages. Marigold paced the flat in her high heels, groaning theatrically and watching the clock. When Star came back at last, carefully carrying a plastic bag on upturned hands, Marigold had to make an extreme effort.
‘Star! You’ve been such a long time, sweetie!’
‘Sorry. There were heaps of people. And I had to walk back carefully because I didn’t want the cake to get bashed. I do hope you like it. I didn’t know whether to pick the fruit or the sponge. I got the sponge because it was cheaper – but maybe you like fruit more?’
‘Whichever,’ said Marigold carelessly. ‘Come on then, let’s have a slice of cake.’
She was already pulling it out of the box, barely looking at it. She didn’t even put it on a proper plate. She rummaged in the drawer for a sharp knife and went to cut the first slice.
‘You’ve got to make a wish!’ said Star.
Marigold raised her eyebrows but closed her eyes and wished. We didn’t need to ask what she was wishing for. I saw her lips say the word ‘Micky’. Then she was hacking away at the cake and gulping her slice so quickly she sprayed crumbs everywhere.