The Illustrated Mum

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘We could stuff them with socks.’

  ‘You’ve always got an answer for everything. Still, it makes a change from all my little kiddies. I like a good argument.’

  Aunty Jane won the argument too. I had to pad along to school in my own shabby trainers. Uncle Eddie had to be off early in the car for his work so it was a problem getting all the babies ready and in the big buggy.

  ‘I can go to school by myself, easy peasy,’ I said, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  It was weird going to school from the other side of town. When we turned into the school road some of the kids started staring. Yvonne got out of her car at the school gates and looked at the babies open-mouthed.

  ‘Bye-bye, Dolphin. We’ll come and collect you at twenty past three,’ said Aunty Jane, giving my dress a little tug straight.

  ‘Who’s she?’ Yvonne demanded rudely.

  ‘I’m Dolphin’s Aunty Jane,’ said Aunty Jane. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then set off homewards, clucking to the children.

  ‘Are all them babies hers?’ said Yvonne.

  ‘Yes, she’s a miracle of modern science,’ I said.

  I pushed past her because I’d spotted Oliver in the playground. It was too far away for him to see me at first, but then he must have twigged that the black dot moving towards him was me. He started rushing towards me. It was like one of those silly romantic scenes in films. We even had our arms outstretched. But then we stopped at the last moment and stood still, grinning foolishly. We certainly weren’t going to embrace in front of all the other kids in the school playground.

  ‘Are you all right, Dolphin? I’ve been so worried! Where did you stay the night?’

  ‘In a foster home. But it’s OK,’ I said. ‘There are babies. Three of them.’

  ‘I like babies,’ said Oliver.

  ‘Well, maybe you can come round and play with them. Aunty Jane won’t mind.’

  ‘So she’s an aunty?’

  ‘Not a real one. But she’s as good as.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so pleased! So can you stay with her?’

  ‘I don’t know. For a bit. Until . . . until my mum’s better.’

  I didn’t even want to say Marigold’s name because that made it all too real and painful. I couldn’t help thinking about her when lessons started. I kept seeing her lying in that bed drawing all over herself. I wanted to curl up round her and take her biro away and put my hands tight over hers to stop her hurting herself.

  When it was playtime Miss Hill called me over to her desk.

  ‘How are you today, Dolphin?’ she said, her voice all sweet and sticky like she’d swallowed a tin of golden syrup.

  I stared at her.

  ‘You come and have a little chat with me if things are troubling you, dear.’

  Dear???

  Mrs Dunstan nodded at me in a weirdly matey way when she saw me in the corridor and I suddenly twigged. Lizzie must have phoned the school and told them what was going on, so now all the staff were being kind to the poor little kid who’d been taken into care.

  I don’t know if Mr Harrison knew or not. He acted just the way he always did at lunchtime in the library. He gave Oliver and me a little wave when we walked in, but didn’t make a big deal of it. We sat together with our dolphin book. Mr Harrison started rootling in his briefcase. We heard a promising rustle. He was unwrapping one of those wonderful giant bars of Cadbury’s chocolate.

  ‘It’s magic munchie time!’ he said, and he gave Oliver and me a third each.

  School was certainly looking up. At this rate Ronnie Churley would blow kisses at me and Yvonne and Kayleigh would fashion me friendship bracelets and Tasha would beg me to stay over at her house and be her best friend forever.

  Ronnie and Yvonne and Kayleigh and Tasha stayed their usual spiteful selves but the teachers were certainly trying hard. Especially Miss Hill.

  It was story-writing in the afternoon. Miss Hill said we had to pretend to be journalists. One of us would tell a story and the other would write it down. She told us to pair up.

  Ronnie Churley groaned.

  ‘It’s not fair! I’m stuck with stupid old Dolphin who can’t write for toffee.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ I said, and I darted across the room and bagged Oliver for my partner.

  Miss Hill looked up . . . and said nothing at all! She let me stay with Oliver. So he got to be the reporter interviewing me. All the other kids pretended to be famous actors or football stars and just showed off about how much money they made. I decided to be the only survivor of a tragic accident at sea. I made out I was in hospital and talked about all my horrendous injuries, and how I felt so lonely and guilty being the only one on the ship left living. Oliver scribbled it all down, pages of it.

  The reporters had to read out their interviews. Oliver got picked. Yvonne and Kayleigh started giggling at first when he started talking about this tragic shipwreck and everyone drowning but me, and how my lungs were so damaged I could barely whisper to tell him my dramatic true story but guess what! Miss Hill said it was excellent and gave us both a gold star!

  It was the first time I’d ever been given a star for anything at school.

  ‘That’s just because she’s being so creepy about you today,’ Kayleigh hissed. ‘What’s up, Bottle Nose? Is it your mum? She hasn’t died, has she?’

  I suddenly saw Marigold flipped over on her back in bed in her strange white nightie, her hands clasped on her chest, her face a mask. I felt my eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Oh Kayleigh, that’s an awful thing to say,’ said Yvonne. ‘Is it true, Dolphin?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dolphin. Don’t cry,’ said Kayleigh.

  They both looked anxiously at Miss Hill. If she saw I was crying they knew they’d be for it.

  I rubbed my eyes.

  ‘She’s not dead. But she’s very ill. In hospital,’ I whispered.

  They stared at me, their eyes round. Then Yvonne reached out. I thought she might be going to pinch me but she patted me on the shoulder instead.

  ‘I hope she gets better soon,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, so do I. I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking,’ said Kayleigh.

  It was great to have them desperate to make up to me but I couldn’t get the image of Marigold dead out of my head.

  I knew she’d tried to kill herself once when she was younger. She had two scars across her wrist. You could still feel them if you touched her, but you couldn’t see them. She had twin tattoos covering them up, two horizontal lozenge-shaped diamonds with rays radiating out to show just how much they sparkled. She always said Star and I were her diamonds. But now Star had left her and I had put her in hospital.

  I ran out of school the moment the bell went. I didn’t even wait for Oliver. I thought I’d run right to the hospital but Aunty Jane was waiting for me at the gate with the baby buggy.

  ‘Slow down, slow down, little Miss Speedy,’ she said. ‘Where are you off to? Not running away?’

  ‘Not running away. Running to some place. The hospital.’

  ‘Yes, poppet, you need to see your mum. Well, your dad’s been in touch. He’s coming to take you himself, after tea.’

  I was impressed by this but I argued all the same.

  ‘I’ve got to see her now, Aunty Jane. You don’t understand.’

  ‘I do, sweetheart, but the thing is, I can’t let you skedaddle off to the hospital by yourself. I know you’re a clever girl and could get there no problem at all, but I’m supposed to look after you and that means I’d have to tag along with you. How am I going to do that with a buggy full of babies who are going to start bawling for their tea any second now? Do you see my point?’

  I had to see.

  ‘Well, do you promise I can go to the hospital later? Even if my dad doesn’t come for me?’

  ‘If he doesn’t come Uncle Eddie will take you. But your dad seems a man you can rely on.’

  Oliver came hurrying up then, a little wounded that I’d ab
andoned him but very eager to meet Aunty Jane and the babies. He didn’t just treat them as babies either. He sorted out the difference between Celine and Martin and baby Daryl and shook each one by the small sticky fist. Martin was grizzling by this time but became fascinated by Oliver’s glasses and Daryl chuckled when Oliver gently tickled him under his damp chin.

  ‘You’re very good with the babies, darling,’ said Aunty Jane. ‘I think you’d better come home with us. You can keep them all amused while I put my feet up.’

  ‘Can Oliver really come, Aunty Jane? Can he come to tea?’

  ‘Of course he can, so long as his mum doesn’t mind.’

  ‘She will mind,’ said Oliver, sighing. ‘She got ever so upset about the other day. I’m in the doghouse at the moment.’

  He trotted off like a little spaniel, his long hair tufting in two clumps either side of his face like ears.

  ‘He’s a nice boy,’ said Aunty Jane. ‘Is he your special friend?’

  ‘Yes, he is. Do you know what? I’m going to give him a haircut.’

  ‘Are you, dearie?’

  I could tell by her tone she thought I was joking.

  ‘I’m good at haircuts, really. I’ve got proper hairdressing scissors. Well . . . back at home I have.’ My voice went a bit funny.

  ‘He certainly could do with a good trim. He can barely see where he’s going.’

  ‘I think he’d look great with it really really short. Sort of skinhead. It would make him look much tougher.’

  ‘I think you’d better consult with his mum first,’ said Aunty Jane.

  ‘Can I fetch my scissors then?’

  ‘Yes, pet, when we’ve got a moment.’

  ‘I could give you a haircut too, if you like.’

  ‘What, a skinhead style?’ said Aunty Jane.

  We both cracked up laughing.

  I went back to her house without any more arguments. The babies had milk and runny boiled egg and Marmite sandwiches for their tea. I started off with the same but I’d never had Marmite before. I ladled it onto my bread, mistaking it for chocolate spread. I practically choked to death at my first bite. Aunty Jane was sympathetic even though I spat my mouthful right out on my plate. She understood I couldn’t fancy anything else savoury after that, so she made me two rounds of buttery toast spread with her own home-made strawberry jam. It was so good I gollopped it down in no time. She made me two more slices, and then another two.

  ‘You must think I’m the greediest girl in the whole world.’

  ‘I think it’s great. You need feeding up, poppet, you’re just a little scrap.’

  ‘My mum wasn’t ever a great cook even when she was well,’ I said, slowing down a little.

  ‘She probably had more important things on her mind,’ said Aunty Jane. ‘She sounds the artistic type. Your dad obviously thinks she’s very special.’

  I chewed thoughtfully.

  ‘She is special,’ I said. ‘She’s just not all that great at doing mum things. Not like you.’

  ‘What is she great at, your mum?’ said Aunty Jane.

  I thought hard, still chewing.

  ‘She’s great at imagining stuff.’

  ‘Ah. Well, that’s where I fall down. I can’t imagine a bean. I could never make up a story to save my life.’

  ‘I can,’ I said.

  ‘Then you take after your mum.’

  ‘Does that mean I’m going to go mad like my mum too?’

  ‘You don’t miss a trick, do you? Don’t be too challenging, lovie, I’m used to dealing with babies. Well . . . I think your legs are planted too firmly on the ground for you to lose your head, if you get my drift.’

  I thought about my feet marching along the floor and wondered if my head could ever unscrew at the neck and spiral off on its own. I wondered if that was the way it felt to Marigold. She seemed to think everyone else was crazy, not her at all. I wondered how she was getting on in the hospital. She was so angry with me. Maybe it would only make her worse if I went to visit her?

  I started chewing all round my fingernails.

  ‘Don’t eat your fingers, sugarlump,’ said Aunty Jane. ‘I can make more toast if you’re still hungry.’

  ‘Do you think Michael really will come?’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to go though. Maybe my mum will be mean to me. She is sometimes.’ I tried to sound matter of fact but my voice wobbled.

  ‘That’s because she’s ill, sweetheart. Maybe the hospital will make her better. Don’t you fret about it. Don’t think about the mean times just now. Come and have a cuddle.’

  ‘Do you know how mad I was?’ I said indistinctly, my nose squashed up against Aunty Jane’s big cushion chest. ‘I thought you’d be mean.’

  ‘Ooh, I can be,’ said Aunty Jane. She held me at arm’s length and bared her teeth and growled until I got the giggles.

  Michael was due to come at six o’clock. He came on the dot, right after Neighbours, just as Big Ben was chiming for the news on the telly.

  ‘Here’s your dad,’ said Aunty Jane.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, feeling horribly shy.

  He looked different. He was wearing a suit and his hair was neatly brushed. He looked a bit fierce at first but then I saw his eyes were still blinking a lot behind his glasses like a grown-up Oliver so I stopped feeling scared.

  ‘Ready to visit your mum, Dolphin?’ he said.

  He sounded nervous, too. We talked about her a bit on the way. He said he’d spoken to his doctor who’d explained a lot about manic depression.

  ‘But of course she was just speaking in general terms. Marigold isn’t an average sort of person. She’s always been so different from anyone else.’

  ‘Did you love her?’ I asked, glad that we were driving so he had to keep his eyes on the road.

  ‘I loved her very much,’ said Michael.

  ‘Do you still love her now?’

  ‘Well. A lot of time’s gone by. I love Meg now, and Grace and Alice. I’ve told them all about you and they can’t wait to meet you.’

  ‘You wish,’ I said.

  ‘No, it’s true. Obviously, this has all been a bit sudden but we were wondering if you’d like to come this Sunday? If it’s OK with your social worker and your foster mother? And you, of course?’

  ‘Well . . .’ I wondered if he really wanted me to come.

  I peered at his profile. His eyes were blinking a lot. I wondered if he’d ever love me. I wondered if I’d ever love him. It was weird thinking about it.

  I forgot I hadn’t given him an answer.

  ‘I could take you swimming. But you don’t have to come, not if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I’m not sure about the swimming,’ I said. ‘But I’d like to come on Sunday. Please.’

  It turned out the trip to the hospital was a waste of time. Marigold had been very upset earlier and now she was ‘having a rest’.

  ‘They’ve tied her up in a strait jacket,’ I said, but when I peeped round her cubicle curtains she was lying freely in her bed, her eyes closed, her bright hair fanned out on the pillow. All the screaming biro people were scrubbed off her arms.

  ‘She looks peaceful now anyway,’ said Michael, peeping too. ‘OK, we’ll come back another time.’

  I leant over Marigold and gave her pale cheek a kiss.

  ‘I love you,’ I whispered.

  She stirred in her sleep and muttered something under her breath.

  ‘No, it’s not Star, it’s Dolphin. Star loves you too,’ I said, though saying it made my mouth feel as if I was sucking lemons.

  Michael didn’t take me straight home. He took me to McDonald’s and bought me a milkshake and an ice cream.

  ‘Which flavour sauce do you like, Dolphin? Alice and Grace are chocolate girls but I’m crazy about butterscotch.’

  ‘Me too!’

  We smiled shyly at each other. It was quite hard finding enough to say when we were licking our ice creams. He started
on about school stuff. I had to hedge a bit.

  ‘So you’re not too keen on school?’

  ‘Is anyone?’

  ‘Grace loves school. She can’t wait to get there in the morning. Alice is a bit more reluctant. She’s a bit of a chatterbox so she clowns around and gets ticked off. But she’s very popular, even with the teachers.’

  ‘So they’re clever, Alice and Grace?’

  ‘Quite clever, yes.’

  ‘Star’s clever. She’s near the top of her class. Well, she was. But I’m not.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not too great at reading, actually.’

  ‘You find stories a bit boring?’

  ‘No, I like the stories. It’s just the words. I can’t read hard ones.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I’m not thick. It’s dyslexia. That’s the proper word for it.’

  ‘Right. Well, I could try and help, if you like. I listen to Grace and Alice while they do their reading.’

  It looked like it was going to be hard work hanging around with Michael. I didn’t know which sounded worse, swimming lessons or reading sessions. But he didn’t seem the sort of man who could get really cross. He seemed OK. Quite nice. He wasn’t all hip and glamorous like Micky. But maybe I didn’t want a dad like that.

  Michael took me back to Aunty Jane’s and said he’d come for me on Sunday. Then I helped Uncle Eddie bath the babies while Aunty Jane made his supper, and then I was allowed to tuck each one up in its cot. I even got Daryl to sleep by plugging his mouth with a dummy and rocking him. Then Aunty Jane and Uncle Eddie and I had chicken and chips on trays in front of the television.

  Aunty Jane made wonderful chips. She gave me a huge plateful. I was just daring to feel happy when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Drat,’ said Aunty Jane. ‘Who is it at this time?’

  My tummy went tight. I put my knife and fork down. I wondered what had happened. I started biting my fingers.

  I heard Aunty Jane and Lizzie out in the hall. Aunty Jane called me.

  ‘You’ll never guess who’s here, Dolphin!’

  Star was standing in the hall. She looked prettier than ever, her lovely blonde hair braided into little plaits tied with beads and coloured threads – and she had a diamond stud sparkling in her nose.