Clean Break

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  I brightened a little. ‘I’ve seen the film,’ I said. ‘I like it a lot. But isn’t the book a bit old-fashioned and hard to read?’

  ‘Why not give it a try and find out?’ said Mrs Marks.

  Yvonne pulled a horrified face when she saw I’d been given three classics to read. ‘You do your homework quicker than anyone and yet you get punished for it?’ she said. ‘You poor thing, Em!’

  Even Jenny looked appalled. But I found I got sucked straight into the story of The Railway Children. After a page or two it was just as easy to read as Jenna Williams and I didn’t mind a bit that it was old-fashioned. It was a bit weird knowing that Bobbie was fourteen and yet she didn’t wear make-up or high heels, she dressed just like a little girl. She didn’t act like one. Bobbie and Phyllis and Peter were allowed to wander all over the countryside by themselves and their mother didn’t worry one bit.

  The bits about their father interested me the most. I thought the children were a bit slow to catch on when it was obvious he’d been taken away to prison. I wondered how I’d feel if Dad was in prison. At least I’d be able to visit him once a month, and I’d be able to send him letters and phone him.

  It was so awful not knowing where he was. I looked at a map of Britain in an atlas at school. Scotland didn’t look very big on the page. I hoped you might be able to search all over in a week or so, but when I asked Mrs Marks she said it was hundreds of miles wide and long. Dad could be up Edinburgh Castle or wandering down Sauchiehall Street or crossing the Tay Road Bridge; he could be sailing across a loch or climbing a mountain or paddling in the sea or patting a Highland cow or playing the bagpipes or wearing a kilt . . .

  The sisters in Little Women didn’t know where their father was either. He was away for most of the book, fighting in a war. I couldn’t ever imagine our dad fighting. He was a total pacifist and believed all wars were wicked. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy were very proud of their dad though, and knitted him socks – just like me knitting Dad his stripy scarf! I wondered if he was still wearing it. Probably not, as it was getting too hot. I hoped he wouldn’t just throw it away. If he’d stuffed it in a drawer somewhere, did he take it out sometimes and hold it to his cheek and think of me? Did he ever think about Vita, his little princess? Did he ever wonder how Maxie was managing without him?

  The March sisters’ dad came back home after he was wounded in battle. If our dad got ill, would he come back to us? I couldn’t imagine Sarah doing any nursing.

  There was a lot about illness in Little Women. I liked the chapter where Beth nearly died. I read it over and over again. If Vita became dangerously ill I’d nurse her devotedly and spoon-feed her and comb her hair and wipe her fevered brow with a cold flannel and tell her endless Dancer stories.

  Then I read A Little Princess. That was the best book of all, though it was so so sad. I loved the beginning when Sara’s father bought her trunkfuls of beautiful clothes – silks and furs as if she really was a little princess. Then Sara’s china doll – Emily! – got kitted out with little cut-down versions of each outfit. I hated it when he left Sara at the girls’ school and she missed him so much, but the worst bit of all was when she found out he’d died.

  I could bear it if I got so poor I had to work as a servant or live in an attic like poor Sara, but I simply couldn’t stand it if Dad ever died.

  I so identified with Sara that I wore one of Mum’s old black T-shirts and her black skirt (I had to use a safety pin to do the waistband up – it’s terrible when you’re much fatter than your own mother). I trudged about in my last year’s winter boots, holding my head high, pretending to be a princess even though I looked like a ragamuffin. I wore Dancer on my hand, pretending she was a very big pet rat.

  ‘For pity’s sake, what do you look like, Em?’ said Gran.

  I gave her a silent look of contempt. This was the way Sara dealt with Miss Minchin and it always unsettled her. It infuriated Gran.

  ‘Don’t you look down your nose at me, Emily! Take those awful black clothes off. And get rid of that wretched reindeer! You’re too old to go round clutching a silly soft toy all the time.’

  ‘Dancer isn’t a toy, she’s a puppet,’ I said.

  ‘It isn’t even your puppet, miss.’

  ‘Vita doesn’t mind me borrowing her. She likes it when I make her talk to us.’

  ‘I haven’t seen you letting Vita borrow your Christmas present,’ said Gran.

  ‘She’d only lose it,’ said Mum. ‘She’s not careful like Em. Quit nagging at her.’ Mum put her arm round me and whispered ‘Take no notice’ in my ear.

  I waited until night-time and then when Mum came to tuck me up I hung onto her, pulling her down on the bed beside me.

  ‘Hey, hey, careful, chickie!’ said Mum.

  ‘Mum, why does Gran always get at me?’

  ‘She gets at all of us, Em. I told you, she’s tired, and she’s at a funny age. Try not to let it bother you. I switch off when she’s having a go at me and sing a song in my head. You try it some time.’

  ‘I know Gran gets grumpy with all of us . . . but she’s meaner to me than Vita or Maxie. I just get on her nerves all the time. She acts like she can’t stand me.’

  ‘Oh, darling, don’t be silly. Gran loves you, she loves all of us.’

  ‘She doesn’t love me like she loves Vita and Maxie,’ I said. I pulled Mum’s head close beside me on the pillow. ‘Is it because I’m fat?’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh, Em!’ Mum’s voice cracked as if she was going to start crying. ‘You’re not fat, sweetheart. You’re just going through a little podgy stage.’

  ‘Like I’ve been in a podgy stage all my life. Look at those baby photos of me. I look like a sumo wrestler!’

  ‘Rubbish!’

  ‘I still look like a sumo wrestler now. It’s so unfair, when you’re all so weeny. Especially you, Mum.’ I seized hold of her bony little wrist with my big pink sausage fingers. It felt like it could snap as easily as a wishbone.

  ‘You’re so skinny now, Mum. You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Are you sure? Oh, Mum, I do worry about you.’

  ‘You’re just my sweet little worrypot. You mustn’t worry so, Em. You’re just a little girl. I’m the mum. It’s my job to worry, not yours. Here, where’s Dancer?’ Mum put Dancer on and made her tickle my neck with her antlers.

  ‘Cheer up, Em! How about a smile, eh? You need a bit of fun in your life.’

  It was May Day Monday the next week. Vita, Maxie and I were off school. Mum and Gran had a holiday from work.

  ‘There’s a Green Fair in Kingtown,’ said Mum. ‘Shall we go and see what it’s like?’

  ‘A Green Fair?’ I said. I imagined emerald roundabouts and jade giant wheels and olive dodgems, peppermint candyfloss and sage chips and apple ice cream. ‘Like everything’s green? Wow!’

  ‘Will you talk English, Em?’ said Gran. ‘Don’t be so soft, of course it’s not coloured green. More mud-brown, if you ask me.’

  ‘It’s green because it’s an environmentally friendly fair,’ said Mum.

  ‘Full of hippies and gypsies and druggies and drunks,’ Gran sniffed. ‘You’re off your head wanting to take the kids. I don’t know what’s the matter with you. I did my level best to bring you up decently and yet you run off with the first weirdo who comes along—’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘And look where that got you – not even able to go to college, and lumbered with a baby, and then you fall for Frankie Fly-by-Night and land yourself with more kids, and you won’t even work in a decent hairdressing salon, you end up in a crumbling dump like the Pink Palace.’

  ‘The Palace isn’t a dump, it’s lovely,’ I said.

  ‘Can we dress up as hippies and gypsies?’ said Vita. ‘Can I wear lots of jewellery, my bead necklace and my bunny brooch and my sparkly tiara and my Indian bangles? You can wear Dancer, Em, if you let me wear your emerald ring.’

  ‘Some nasty druggie thief wi
ll have that ring off your finger in five seconds,’ said Gran.

  Maxie was trying to juggle his teddy bears. He couldn’t catch even one teddy but he kept throwing them in the air enthusiastically.

  ‘I’m going on the helter-skelter,’ he said, out of the blue.

  ‘I’m not sure there’ll be a helter-skelter, darling,’ said Mum. ‘But there’ll be lots of other lovely things, food stalls and face painting and lots of music. There might even be juggling. How would you like to try a special juggling workshop?’

  ‘I can juggle already,’ said Maxie. ‘I want to go on a helter-skelter!’

  ‘I want this, I want that! Whatever happened to Please may I?’ said Gran. ‘It’s madness taking the children to this godforsaken fair, especially with Maxie in one of his moods. We need to go shopping. All three kids could do with new shoes, though I suppose I’m the one who’s got to fork out for them.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Mum, but I think the children can wait for their shoes,’ said Mum, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘You go shopping by all means, but we’re going to the Green Fair.’

  I wondered if Mum would back down at the last minute, but she organized us into getting ready, leaving the emerald ring hidden at home but letting Dancer come with us.

  ‘She has to. She’s part of the family,’ said Mum. ‘Say goodbye to your gran, everyone.’

  We said goodbye. Gran sniffed at us. She waited until Mum was opening the front door.

  ‘I know why you’re going to this wretched fair,’ she called. ‘You’re such a fool, Julie.’

  Mum slammed the door behind us with a big bang.

  ‘Interfering old biddy! Why does she have to keep bossing us about all the time?’ Dancer said.

  Vita and Maxie laughed. Mum tutted at me, but she couldn’t help laughing too.

  I worked out what Gran meant when we got to the Green Fair. It was heaving with colourful people in rainbow-coloured clothes. A lot of the guys had long hair. Some had dreadlocks, some had ponytails – and several had plaits.

  Vita and Maxie clamoured to have their faces painted. Vita chose to be a lilac fairy with flowers on her cheeks. Maxie was an orange stripy tiger.

  ‘What about you, Em?’ said Mum.

  ‘No thanks, it’s just for little kids,’ I said.

  ‘You are my little kid,’ said Mum.

  ‘And you’re my little mum,’ I said, putting my arm round her tiny waist. I kept holding her. ‘Mum, Dad’s in Scotland now.’

  ‘Yes. He is. Well, as far as we know,’ said Mum.

  ‘Are you hoping he might be here, even so?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Mum, but she went pink in the face. ‘For goodness’ sake don’t say anything to Vita or Maxie! No, Dad won’t be here, that’s a mad idea. Though he did always come to the Green Fair when it was on, and he even talked about trying a Fairyland stall here. You know how he loves this sort of thing.’

  I tried to love the Green Fair too, but it didn’t have the right sort of fair food. It was all tofu and couscous and grated carrot with weird watery coconut milk to drink.

  It didn’t have the right sort of fair rides either. There was no helter-skelter. There were no dodgems or big wheels or roundabouts. There were tyres on ropes hanging from trees instead of swings, but they weren’t much use to us. Vita and Maxie were so little and skinny they’d have fallen straight through the hole, and I was so big and fat I worried I’d poke my head and shoulders through and then get stuck for ever.

  I liked a stall of semi-precious stones. I stayed there for ages, fingering the smooth agate and amethyst and crystal pebbles while the stallholder told me they’d bring me love and luck and happiness. I wanted them all.

  ‘You don’t need semi-precious stones, Em,’ said Mum. ‘You’ve got your very own emerald safe at home.’

  I squeezed Mum’s hand. I thought hard about my emerald. My head filled with its intense green light. ‘Please please please grant me love and luck and happiness,’ I wished inside my head.

  I opened my eyes, almost believing I’d find Dad there in front of me. I turned my head from side to side, my eyes swivelling over the crowds, searching for him.

  Mum was looking round too. Then she stood still, her eyes wide, her mouth parting.

  ‘Mum? Mum, what is it? Have you seen Dad?’ I asked, shaking her arm.

  I couldn’t see any sign of him. Mum seemed to be staring at a family by the children’s tent. There was a massive guy in a black vest, his big jeans buckled under his beer belly. He had long coarse yellow hair past his shoulders and a face the colour of tinned ham. He was helping his tubby little toddler son to ride a trike, bent over so that you could see too much of his horrible wobbly bottom. His skinny dark-haired wife had a fat baby riding on her hip, guzzling juice from a bottle.

  The big fat guy was staring back at Mum. Then he waved his big beefy arm and started striding across the grass towards us.

  ‘Who’s this man, Mum? Do you know him?’ I asked.

  Mum swallowed. ‘Oh, Em. It’s your dad.’

  I looked at Mum like she’d gone crazy. How could Mum think this massive meaty man could possibly be Dad?

  Then I realized. He was my real dad.

  ‘Let’s run, Mum, quick,’ I said.

  I’d been too little when we did a runner to remember what he looked like. Mum had long since torn up all the photos. But I couldn’t forget the threat of his voice, the thump of his blows, the sound of Mum screaming.

  I grabbed Mum’s arm and pulled. She was standing as if her silver sandals had grown roots and she was planted for ever in the muddy turf.

  ‘It’s Julie! By God, it really is!’ he shouted, marching over to us.

  ‘Who’s that man?’ Maxie asked, biting his bottom lip.

  ‘How does he know you, Mum?’ Vita asked.

  ‘Quick, we’re all going to run for it,’ I said, but it was too late.

  He was standing so close we could smell him. He was grinning, hands on his hips, shaking his head so that his hair rasped on his shoulders.

  ‘I can’t believe it! Well, Julie, long time no see.’ But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Vita, with her painted flower face and her fluffy hair and her pink and lilac little-girly clothes.

  ‘Is this little fairy my Emily?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not Em!’ Vita said indignantly. ‘That’s Em.’ She pointed at me.

  My dad took a proper look at me and then burst out laughing. ‘Of course you’re Emily!’ he said. ‘How could I have mixed you up? Talk about a chip off the old block!’

  I was appalled. I didn’t really look like this big fat ugly dad, did I? Oh God, I did, I did. I shrank as his big blubbery hand reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

  ‘My, you’ve grown up, kiddo. I can’t believe it! So who’s the fairy and the little gnome, Julie?’

  ‘They’re my other kids, Barry,’ Mum said shakily.

  ‘I’m not a gnome, I’m a tiger. I’ll bite you if you don’t watch out,’ Maxie threatened.

  I grabbed hold of him but the big guy was just laughing.

  ‘Help! Help! Don’t eat me, big tiger,’ he said, in a silly squeaky voice. Then he looked at Vita. ‘What are you going to do, Magic Fairy? Are you going to wave your wand and grant me a magic wish?’

  ‘No way,’ said Vita, folding her arms. ‘I’m keeping all my wishes for me.’

  My dad laughed again and looked at Mum. ‘Well, your kids do you proud, Julie, all three of them.’

  He played silly tricks with Maxie and Vita, pretending he was twisting their noses off, sticking his thumb through his fingers to make them think he’d really done it. They laughed at him scornfully, not the slightest bit frightened. Then he tried it with me, but I dodged out of his way.

  ‘Sorry, sorry!’ he said, holding his hands up. ‘You’re too old for larking about, I know. How did you get to be so grown up, Emily? Dear oh dear, you and me have missed out on a lot. Perhaps we could spend some time toget
her so you can get to know your old dad?’

  ‘I’ve already got a dad,’ I said.

  Mum tensed.

  ‘Oh well, I’m glad to hear it,’ said my dad, nicely enough. ‘So things have worked out for you, Julie?’

  Mum nodded, holding my hand tight.

  ‘That’s good. I know you and me – well, it didn’t work, did it? Maybe I gave you a bit of a rough time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Mum.

  ‘Still, I’m off the drink now. Regular family man. That’s my new lady over there, and my boys, bless the little bruisers. Want to come and meet them?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Mum.

  ‘Yeah, it’s all a bit awkward. Oh well. It was nice seeing you. And I’d like to keep in touch, hear about my Emily. Where are you living now?’

  Mum hesitated.

  ‘At Gran’s,’ Maxie blurted out.

  My dad pulled a silly face. ‘Oh dear! Perhaps I’d better keep my distance. We were never the best of friends!’

  He waved his fat fingers at us and then ambled back to his new family.

  ‘Thank God he’s gone!’ Mum whispered.

  ‘Is that man really Em’s dad? I thought Em’s dad was a really scary man?’ said Vita.

  ‘He is,’ said Mum. ‘Well, he was. I don’t know. Maybe he’s changed.’

  ‘I don’t like him,’ said Maxie. ‘He took my nose.’

  ‘I don’t like him either,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s all walk the other way, quick.’

  ‘Our dad’s much nicer than Em’s dad,’ said Vita.

  ‘That’s enough, Vita,’ said Mum sharply. She put her arm round me. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘He’s gone now. We’ll never see him again. Come on, there’s an ice-cream van over there. Proper Whippy ice cream. I’ll treat us all to a ninety-nine.’

  I had a large cone with strawberry sauce and rainbow sprinkles and two chocolate flakes. I caught sight of myself reflected in the van window as I had my first long lick. I saw my big pink face, my fat sausage fingers. I stopped licking. I let the ice cream melt until it dripped up my arm. Then I threw it down and trod it into the mud.