by Joanna Nadin
I said, ‘Dave.’
And when the word came out, it was like a champagne cork that had popped because then all the crying and the shaking burst out of me too and I thought it would never stop. I thought I would be there on the red plastic seat at Burger King for ever not being able to walk or talk or even drink Coca-Cola. But the more I shook the tighter Dave held me, and the more he said,‘It’s going to be OK, Billy, you’ll see. It’s all going to be OK.’ Until he had said the words so many times that he had whispered all the darkness and cold out and all that was left was me shivering with some snot coming out of my nose and he wiped it with a Whopper napkin and smiled and said, ‘Righto then, kid. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’
And it wasn’t a rhetorical question. He actually wanted an answer. And the thing is I wanted to give him one. Because every time I told him a fact, like about being poor and wearing daps for football and buying stuff at Discount Deals, I felt the seed shrivel and warm coming back into my body. Into my fingers and toes at first but then creeping up my arms and legs. And so I told him more. I told him about Mrs Perry and the clothes, and the envelope, and the DS and the Monopoly. And I told him how I meant to take the money back but there was the robbery and then Mr Perry disappeared. And I told him about the care home and how I didn’t want to be in there in case it wasn’t like Tracy Beaker after all, and then I felt the warm touch the edges of my chest. So I told him about how the money talked to me and how it was saying things and that the only way to make it quiet was to go to America like Rose so I can be free.
And that’s when Dave said, ‘Oh Billy Grimshaw-Jones. You really are a one.’ And he smiled and kissed me on the top of my head. And I didn’t care that at secondary school you don’t let anyone kiss you. Not even your mum. And definitely not a vegetarian nurse who likes comics and isn’t even your real dad. Because the warm had spread to my stomach. And that was all down to Dave.
Then he said something else. Another whisper. It was, ‘Is the money still talking now?’ And I listened, I listened really hard to all the noises in the air. I could hear a bing bong and then a woman saying, ‘Passengers for Flight C eight-seven-nine please go to Boarding Gate D.’ And I could hear a boy saying, ‘How long now? Is it nearly time? Is it?’ And I could hear a woman saying, ‘Do you want fries with that?’ And a man say,‘I would have asked if I did, wouldn’t I?’ back to her.
But I couldn’t hear the money. I couldn’t hear the Darth Vadar voice. Not a single word. And so I shook my head. And Dave said, ‘Is it in there?’ And he nodded at the rucksack and I said, ‘Yes.’ And he said, ‘How much is left?’ And I said, ‘£5193’. And Dave said, ‘Crikey. OK, well we can deal with that later, but first of all let’s get you home, Billy boy.’ I said, ‘Does Mum know?’ And Dave said, ‘No. Which is a flaming miracle. Stacey may look like a walking satsuma but she had the sense to call me instead. Good job and all because your mum’s not feeling too bright today, so maybe we’ll keep this between me and you for now, eh?’ And I said yes because I didn’t want anyone but Dave to know the whole truth. Not Stacey. Not Stan. Not Big Lauren. And definitely not Mum. I just wanted to get home and smell her smell of blue roll-on deodorant and coconut shampoo and listen to her moan about having to wee and see her get me a digestive down from the cupboard even a Discount Deals one and touch her tummy with the baby breathing inside.
But in the end none of that happened because when we got back Mum was gone.
There was a note on the fridge under the magnet shaped like a melon. It said, Baby coming. Gone to hospital. Why aren’t you answering your bloody phone? And Dave said a really bad swear but I didn’t even say a word because the baby was coming only it wasn’t due not for six weeks and that meant something was wrong.
I don’t even remember driving to the hospital now. Or what was on the telly in the waiting room. Or even what the nurse said to me when she came and sat down on the plastic chair next to me.
All I can remember is them in that room. Mum all sweaty in a blue gown with mascara on her cheeks and Dave with tears on his and both of them pale and grey. And I was waiting for the words like on Holby City again. The ones that make worlds fall apart. I was waiting for, ‘I’m sorry, Billy.’
But it wasn’t words I heard. It was a sound. High and squawly. Like a kitten or a bird.
Or a baby.
It was tiny, as tiny as a kitten, and it didn’t look like a normal baby in a stretchy suit with fat cheeks and a hat, it was just in a nappy and in a glass tank like a fish and there was a tube going in its nose and more in its arms and chest.
But it was alive. Completely alive. Because every little while it would make the kitten noise and wave its arm, and that’s when I saw it. The see-through plastic bracelet the size of a ring. And inside it were words and those words said, Baby Girl Jones.
And in that moment I knew the world would never fall apart. Not for any of us. That she would hold it together. Even if we were on the breadline and I got beaten up at secondary school for wearing daps and had to count the glow stars eleven times. She would make it all right. Because she was worth more than money. She was the fortune. Our fortune.
Our Rose Jones.
And the warm flooded my heart like soup.
The name was my idea.
Big Lauren said actually it was hers because she had put it on the list in January only she had said Rose DeWitt DiCaprio Jones which isn’t the same at all. Stan says she should be called Lady after Lauren’s hamster because it was dead now because of eating its own house so it didn’t matter but Mum said it was still a weird name for a baby and anyway wasn’t the new hamster being called Lady but Lauren said, ‘No, it’s Dexter. He’s in my class at secondary school and I’m going to marry him but not in Paris because we’re doing Spanish instead and so he won’t know how to say “I do”.’
Secondary school isn’t so bad after all. Only we don’t even call it secondary school now, we just call it Broadley Comp, otherwise we would get our heads flushed down the toilet. Even though I don’t know anyone who has actually had that done. Stephen Warren says a boy in his class called Luke Seward says his cousin’s best friend’s brother got it done last Thursday. But he also says he is related to Simon Cowell, so it’s probably a lie.
Kyle Perry hasn’t got his head flushed. Not at our school anyway. He’s gone away for a bit with his mum. Nan said they’re in prison for being accomplices to the robbery, but they’re not, they’re in Clevedon with his aunt. It wasn’t Mr Perry who broke into the welder’s anyway it was a man called James Kelsey from Yate, who was already wanted for similar incidents at Charlie’s Autospares and Poundworld according to the Broadley Echo.
Nan says I shouldn’t believe what I read because they’ve got it wrong before like when they said vandals had sawn through the wires in the Salvation Army shop and it turned out it was squirrels, but Brenda knew because she saw a squirrel in her tea.
She says Brenda sees everything, e.g. she can see that Rose is going to be a beauty when she grows up – a real beauty.
But she didn’t see that I would get put in the top stream for English even though my essay wasn’t even true.
And she didn’t see that Stan would decide he is definitely not into Lady Gaga or Hannah Montana or even Man Versus Food any more, he is into Deadliest Catch like Jake Palmer-Thomas. Jake is now first toughest in the infants because Seth Makepeace has gone to special school.
And she didn’t see Money Madness.
The letter came through four days after we got back from the hospital. Dave wasn’t going to do it because he said he didn’t care about money all he cared about was Mum and me and Stan and Rose. But Mum said go on because he’d always wanted to be on telly so he did. And he won £10,000. It would have been more but they asked him what TARDIS stands for and he didn’t know so he rang his phone-a-friend which was Dave 2 and he said he didn’t know it stood for anything when actually it is Time And Relative Dimension In Space and even I knew that which I
said to Dave when he got home but he said, ‘It doesn’t matter, Billy, we’ve got a fortune anyway.’
And we have. Or at least enough to repair the Toyota Corolla so that Mum can still take Stan to Arthur Malik’s and do the big shop at Discount Deals, because they do the best chocolate and even Nan agrees.
And enough to pay back the rest of the money I owed to Mr Perry. Mum said he’ll only bet it on the horses again but Dave said that’s not the point and he can spend it on a lifetime’s supply of candy floss if he wants it won’t make him any happier.
And I know he’s right and that stuff doesn’t change anything. Not really. I know Nike is just a label and that there is loads of good stuff on telly not just on Sky TV. And I know custard creams still taste sweet even if the packet says Fondant Sandwich Biscuits on it.
But people are wrong when they say money doesn’t change anything either. Because Dave asked what we should do with the rest of it. He said if we wanted we could build a small room on top of the kitchen called an extension and it would be a bedroom for Stan so we wouldn’t have to share.
Or, he had another idea.
And the other idea turned out to be brilliant. Because now we have bunk beds which are just like on Tracy Beaker only better because they’re not in the Dumping Ground, they’re in our own house at 23 Brunel Street. And Justine isn’t in the next-door bedroom, it’s Mum and Dave, and next door to that is Rose.
And Granny Grimshaw has someone to come in and help her so she doesn’t forget stuff, e.g. to get washed or eat her tea.
And best of all, the special care unit at the hospital has a new bed for babies who are born too early like Rose, which amazingly is the same price as an extension.
But it buys a lot more happiness.
Joanna Nadin is a former journalist and government speechwriter. She has written several award-winning books for younger readers, as well as the best-selling Rachel Riley series for teens.
She lives in Bath with her daughter.
Visit www.joannanadin.com to find out more.
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