The Illustrated Mum

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘We’re going to Brighton for the weekend,’ Marigold said. ‘Micky told me on the phone.’

  ‘It’s just Dol and me,’ said Star. Her voice wobbled even though her face was firm.

  ‘And me,’ said Marigold. ‘Whew! I don’t know what’s up with me. Some tummy bug. Hope you girls don’t get it. Right! I’d better get my act together and get packing.’

  ‘There are just two tickets, Marigold. One for Dol and one for me,’ said Star.

  ‘Oh,’ said Marigold, taking the envelope and peering inside, then tearing it right open. ‘Well, it can’t be helped. I don’t mind forking out for my own ticket.’

  ‘Marigold. It’s just Dol and me that are invited. I thought Micky explained.’

  ‘Explained what?’ I said.

  ‘We’re staying with him.’

  ‘Well, I can stay with him too,’ said Marigold.

  Star sighed. She clenched her fists. She swallowed.

  ‘His girlfriend will be there.’

  ‘His girlfriend?’ I said, twitching.

  ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ said Marigold, running her fingers through her hair, trying to twist it into place.

  ‘He’s got this other girlfriend who lives with him, Marigold. Siân.’

  ‘Sian?’ said Marigold, as if it was some disgusting swear word.

  ‘He said he told you all about her.’

  ‘Yes, he did mention some girl. But he’s the only guy I’ve ever truly loved, so I don’t care if he’s had a few girls since. He wouldn’t be human if he hadn’t. But I’m the one he went looking for. I’m the mother of his child. Of course I’ve got to come too. I’ve got to, haven’t I, to see you’re both all right.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, Marigold,’ said Star. ‘Dol and I had better get going. Micky said we should try and get the ten o’clock train.’

  ‘Please. Wait for me. Let me come too,’ Marigold said, rushing into her bedroom, putting her best beaded cardigan on over her old petticoat but buttoning it up all wrong so that it hung lop-sidedly.

  ‘Why can’t she come too?’ I hissed to Star.

  ‘There’s nowhere for her to stay. Micky said.’

  ‘Micky said, Micky said. I’m getting a bit sick of your Micky,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t own the railways. He doesn’t own the whole of Brighton.’

  ‘He does own his own flat. It’s very tiny. He’s bought these two camp beds for us and we’ll be sleeping in his living room and he and Sian have the bedroom. There isn’t room for Marigold.’

  ‘I could sleep on his sofa. Or this Sian could. Look, if I’m going she doesn’t need to be there, acting like a nanny or whatever.’

  ‘She lives there most of the time. She and Micky have been together for more than two years.’

  ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ said Marigold, sticking her bare feet in her high heels and trying to pull her cardigan straight.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, Marigold. You only knew him a few weeks. He told me.’

  ‘He stayed here last Saturday night!’

  ‘Because he wanted to see me!’ Star shouted. ‘And he wants to see me this weekend too and I’m not going to let you muck it all up. You’re not coming.’

  ‘I’m not coming either,’ I said.

  They both blinked.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ I repeated.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Dol. Of course you’re coming.’

  ‘Micky doesn’t want to see me. And I don’t want to see him either. I think he’s horrible. And I think you’re horrible too, Star. Marigold and me will stay home. You go off to Brighton with your precious Micky. See if we care.’

  ‘Right,’ said Star. ‘Right.’

  She picked up her bag and walked out of the room. We heard our door slam, footsteps hurrying downstairs, and then the ‘thunk’ of the front door closing.

  It was very quiet in our flat. Marigold stood half dressed, shivering, still tugging at her cardigan.

  ‘Dol?’ she said, tears brimming.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘Look, you’ve buttoned yourself all skew-whiff. Come here.’

  I did her buttons up properly. She still looked dazed, tears dripping down her face.

  ‘We’ll have a lovely time just you and me,’ I said. I hugged her tight, so that all the little beads in her cardigan dug in hard against my skin.

  I couldn’t help hoping that Star would suddenly come rushing back. She’d say Marigold could come too. She’d insist I go with her. She’d stay at home with us.

  She didn’t do any of these things.

  Marigold and I were left on our own. I wanted her to be pleased with me that I hadn’t gone with Star. But she started to get things twisted in her head, acting like it was my fault she wasn’t invited to Brighton.

  I argued with her and she got really angry and started yelling, screaming like she’d never stop, her eyes little green slits, her mouth a great red cavern, spittle running down her chin. She kept waving her arms in the air and I was scared she was going to hit me even though she’d never smacked me in my life. I tried talking back to her but she was making so much noise she didn’t hear me.

  There was a big thumping at our door. Marigold took no notice of that either, so I didn’t answer it. I knew who it would be.

  Mrs Luft started hissing through the letterbox.

  ‘If you don’t stop that crazy noise I’ll call the police and they’ll get you carted off to the loony bin where you belong!’

  Marigold heard that. She sprang to the door and flung it open. Mrs Luft staggered backwards, almost falling over. Marigold’s arms were still flailing.

  ‘Don’t, Marigold!’ I screamed.

  Marigold got stuck in space, arms up, on the tip of her toes, mouth stretched in a shriek.

  ‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘Don’t!’

  Marigold looked at me as if she could see me properly at last. She dropped her arms and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

  Mrs Luft backed away, still in a crouched position.

  ‘She’s crazy! A real crazy woman, acting totally demented. And her with two dependent kiddies!’ she muttered.

  ‘We’re fine,’ I said. ‘My mum was just mad at me because I did something ever so naughty. She shouted at me. So what? And we’re not just dependent on Marigold anyway, we’ve got a father, haven’t we, Marigold? Star’s with him now and if he thinks you’ve been saying wicked things about my mum like she’s mad then he’ll sue you for slander, just you wait and see, you mean old rat bag.’

  Mrs Luft straightened up.

  ‘I’m not indulging in a common brawl. You belong in the gutter, all of you. Now keep your voice down or I really will call the police.’

  I shut the door on her. I felt the blood zipping round my body like I’d been running a race. I wanted Marigold to clap me on the back and congratulate me but she seemed out of it again. She rolled up her sleeve and started fingering her new cross tattoo, scraping along its lines with her nails.

  ‘Don’t! You’ll get it infected, picking at it like that.’

  I got her antiseptic cream and she rubbed it in slowly. It seemed to soothe her. She got washed and properly dressed. I did her hair for her. I combed it up into a chic pleat and anchored it with my green clasp.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ I said, and I sprayed her hair thoroughly to keep every single tendril in place.

  Marigold’s third eye stared back at me, unblinking. She’d had another big green eye tattooed at the back of her neck. It was usually hidden by her sweep of hair. It was a bit startling seeing it looking at me like that. When I was in Year One at my first primary school – I can’t even remember its name I went to so many different schools – but anyway this teacher used to cluck at us if we were naughty and say she needed eyes in the back of her head to see what we were all up to. I told her my mum had an eye at the back of her neck, a big green one, and she said, ‘Yes, dear,’ like she didn’t believe a word of it.

  I put my finger out and touched the green skin. The eye
still didn’t blink but I could feel Marigold quivering.

  ‘Don’t poke me in the eye,’ she said.

  It was our old old joke. It was great to hear her say it. She seemed to have calmed down. I could still hear all that shouting in my head and it was still scary. Maybe it was good she’d got it all out of her system. Now she wasn’t mad at me any more.

  ‘What shall we do today, Marigold, you and me?’

  Big mistake.

  ‘Do?’ said Marigold. ‘We’re going to Brighton.’

  I did my best to talk her out of it. We didn’t know where Micky lived for a start.

  ‘We’ll find it. I’ll know as soon as I’m near it,’ Marigold said.

  ‘How will you know?’ I looked at the mobile phone. ‘I suppose you could always phone and ask?’

  But she didn’t know the number. Micky had always phoned her.

  Star knew the number. She’d kept it to herself.

  We both stared at the phone as if it could dial the number by itself. It suddenly started ringing and we jumped as if it was alive. Then we both made a grab for it. I was quicker.

  ‘Is that you, Dol?’ It was Star, from a callbox. I could hear tannoy announcements in the background.

  ‘Are you at the station?’

  ‘Yes. Listen. How is she?’

  ‘She’s . . . OK,’ I said. I didn’t want to tell Star about Marigold’s shouting fit. And it was all over now.

  ‘You’re sure? Look, I’ve got to get the train in a minute, but I just wanted to check.’

  ‘Star, wait for us. We’re coming to Brighton too.’

  ‘No, not with Marigold you can’t. Don’t let her.’

  ‘Star, please.’

  ‘0 – o – h.’ Then there was a little sound like a sob. ‘I wish I knew what to do,’ she said. ‘Why couldn’t you have come with me in the first place? Oh Dol, is she really OK? Look, I have to go, I’ll miss the train. I have to see Micky. He’s my father.’

  ‘What’s his phone number, Star?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The number. I need the number.’

  ‘No. I can’t give it to you. I’m not allowed,’ said Star. ‘I’ll phone you. I’ll phone this evening, right? And I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  Marigold grabbed the phone from me.

  ‘Star, sweetie, I have to talk to Micky. It’s a terrible emergency. Please give me the number right this minute.’

  Star rang off. Marigold screwed up her face in anguish. A strand of hair escaped and dangled down round her ear. I tried to pin it back into place.

  ‘We can ring directory enquiries,’ I said. ‘Give them Micky’s name.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Marigold.

  But Micky was ex-directory.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Marigold. ‘I don’t need it. I know all the real things about him, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the freckles on his back, the way he sings in the shower, the music he’s crazy about. There, Dol, I knew he’d be at the Emerald City concert. I found him there. I just walked straight up to him. We’ll go to Brighton and we’ll walk straight there and he’ll be so glad to see us. It’ll be just like last Saturday. We had such a magic time, didn’t we? The four of us. Just like a family.’

  ‘But Star says he’s got this Siân.’

  ‘She’s nothing. We’ll get rid of her,’ said Marigold. ‘Come on, Dol. We’re going to Brighton. What were you playing at, wasting all this time, having that silly tantrum?’

  I stared at her. Did she really have it so mixed up in her head that she thought I’d done the shouting? She didn’t quite meet my eyes. She turned her back so that the third eye could gaze at me steadily.

  So we went to Brighton. We used my ticket. Marigold used her new credit card for hers. It was another scary thing to worry about.

  I couldn’t remember if I’d ever been to Brighton before. Marigold stepped out smartly the moment we got off the train but she didn’t seem to know her way round either. It wasn’t too difficult to walk towards the seafront because you could tell by the glint in the distance. It was further than it looked. Marigold was wearing her high heels.

  ‘We’ll get a taxi,’ she said, spotting one.

  The taxi stopped and the driver stared at her.

  ‘Take us to Micky’s place,’ Marigold said, climbing into the back of the cab.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Micky’s place.’

  ‘Is that a club or a pub or what? What’s the address?’

  ‘I’m not too sure. If you could drive us around for a bit I’m sure I’ll recognize it.’

  ‘Have you got cash, lady?’

  ‘Of course I have. Well, credit card.’

  ‘No, thanks. Out you get. And you, little girl. I’m not taking you on a tour round blooming Brighton. You’re crazy.’

  ‘What did you call me?’ said Marigold.

  I had to haul her out of the cab quick. We walked after that. Down to the seafront. There was no sand but the sea was a bright turquoise blue and the pier had a huge glitter ball that sparkled in the sunshine. Marigold started to sparkle too. She caught my hand and we went on the pier and she found a booth where they do astrology charts to see if you’re compatible with your partner. She knew Micky’s birthdate even though she didn’t know his phone number or address, so she used up the last of our cash seeing if they were soulmates.

  The computer printout reckoned they were 75% compatible, much higher than average. Marigold read it three times, a huge smile on her face. Then we went through the amusement arcade to the end of the pier and back. I wished she’d left some cash so we could have a go at grabbing a bright green teddy or a fluffy panda with a spotted bow-tie out of the machine. I’d have loved an ice cream too. It was way past lunchtime. Marigold rarely got hungry when she was in one of her states.

  There was a fish and chip place in the middle of the pier. The smell made me suck in my cheeks. There were people sitting in a long line of deckchairs nibbling bits of batter and chomping chips. One thin girl barely touched her polystyrene platter, just throwing the odd chip to the seagulls. Then she went off with her boyfriend. I stared after them. I stared at her fish and chips. There were seagulls with beady eyes and sharp orange beaks perching on the pier railings, waiting. I got there first, snatching the platter up and tucking in.

  ‘Dol!’ said Marigold, but she didn’t stop me.

  She stared way into the distance, eyes narrowed. Every time she spotted anyone with fair hair she tensed up, her hand clasping my greasy fingers, but so far we hadn’t caught a glimpse of Micky and Star.

  ‘But we will find them,’ said Marigold.

  We walked and walked and walked. Marigold had such bad blisters she stuffed old tissues between her straps and her feet. We went all over a big modern shopping centre asking in all the jewellery shops, but no-one knew Micky or his work.

  ‘They’re all too modern, too tacky, too chain store,’ said Marigold.

  We went round and round little winding lanes full of antique jewellery shops.

  ‘Too old,’ said Marigold, after we’d gone in and out of every one.

  We walked further and found small lively streets with people plaiting hair and playing penny whistles and selling amber off stalls.

  ‘This is more like it,’ said Marigold.

  We went into several jewellery shops. We couldn’t see any rings like the one he’d been wearing and there were no necklaces like ours. No-one knew Micky – or if they did, they weren’t letting on to us.

  ‘We’re not going to find him, Marigold,’ I said, undoing my shoes and arching my poor sore feet.

  ‘Of course we’re going to find him,’ said Marigold, pulling me after her before I’d even got my shoes back on properly.

  We tramped round all over again, until the shops started shutting.

  ‘Can’t we go home now?’

  ‘We’re not going home until we join up with Micky and Star,’ said Marigold.

  She seemed to think if
she said it enough times it would somehow come true. She kept slowing down when we went past pubs. I knew she was longing for a drink. I was terribly thirsty myself. I tried drinking from the cold water tap in a ladies loo but it was hard gulping it down. Most of the water splashed my front, making my T-shirt uncomfortably sodden. It was starting to get cold, the wind blowing off the sea.

  ‘Please let’s go home,’ I begged.

  ‘Just stop it, Dol. You’ve got to stop being so negative. Maybe it’s your fault we’ve not found them yet.’

  I was scared she was starting to get angry again. I was tired and hungry and cold and my feet hurt. I just couldn’t hold on any more. 1 burst into tears, great gulpy sobs like a baby.

  ‘Stop it,’ said Marigold.

  I couldn’t.

  ‘Stop it!’ she said. ‘Look, it’ll be all right when we find them. Micky will take us out for a meal and we’ll have such a great time. It will be beautiful, I promise. But you’ve got to shut up now, Dol. People are staring at us. We’ll just walk a little further. I bet we suddenly stumble on them in the next street. I just know we’ll find them if we only try hard enough.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ I sobbed.

  Marigold slapped me hard across the cheek. I reeled back, catching my breath. Marigold seemed stunned too. She looked at her own hand as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

  Someone said loudly, ‘Fancy slapping your child like that!’

  ‘She ought to be reported,’ said another.

  Then someone tugged at my arm.

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’

  I stared at them. I stared at Marigold.

  ‘Quick, Dol,’ said Marigold, catching hold of my hand.

  She started running, pulling me with her. Someone shouted after us but no-one tried to follow. When we were halfway up the street Marigold pulled me into a shop doorway.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dol, I’m so sorry,’ she said, starting to cry herself. ‘I didn’t mean to hit you. Oh God, I can’t see in this light. Is your cheek all red? You poor poor little thing. I was so mean to you. Here, hit me back. Really slap my face. Go for it!’

  She picked up my hand and tried to make me hit her. My arm flopped back to its side.