Big Frank’s face suddenly changed from humour to blackness. Poppy shrank back. Her dad shouted – or it felt like shouting, although it was probably only a loud whisper, ‘You’re only a little girl, Poppy. There are some things you can’t know and you wouldn’t understand if you did. Just take in this: I’m here in prison – and here, unless you provide me with a pair of wings, here I’m going to stay!’
Poppy couldn’t say a thing. She knew she was trembling and tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks.
‘What is happening?’ Irena came back with the coffee and looked from father to daughter.
‘Oh, it’s my fault.’ Frank flung himself back in his chair. ‘All this pretending to be Happy Families . . . I couldn’t keep it up.’ He looked at Poppy, frowned, but said nothing.
Irena set the coffee down carefully and sat facing her husband. ‘Just now we were happy,’ she said. ‘Even in here.’
Poppy stopped crying. She had never heard her mum stand up to her dad like this.
There was a silence. Poppy’s dad looked at her again, but this time with a sorrowful face. He leant forward and wiped away her tears with his big finger.
‘Forgive me, darling. If you can. You’re the best daughter in the world, do you know that, and I’m the worst dad. Can you forgive me?’
Instead of answering, Poppy flung herself into his arms and, even though he was thinner, it felt a very comfortable place to be.
‘That is better,’ said Irena, nodding. ‘Now drink your coffee, Frank, and we will all be happy together again.’
So that is what they did and, although at first her fingers shook, Poppy carried on writing down the story. Just as she finished, Angel appeared with his little sister Seraphina, and Poppy read the story to her.
‘More! More!’ Seraphina clapped her hands and laughed so much that they all began to laugh too, even Frank.
‘How many more times can I read it?’ gasped Poppy after the third time.
‘More! More!’ Seraphina cried, until Angel became embarrassed.
‘Just say no,’ he advised, ‘or she’ll make you go on for ever. More is her top word.’
None of them had noticed how late it was. Suddenly a lot of new prison officers came into the room and the friendly, purple T-shirted woman took away the pentels and paper. ‘I’ll make sure you get back your story at the other end,’ she said, looking at it admiringly.
‘I expect to hear more about the rat,’ said Frank to Poppy as they hugged.
‘Yes,’ Poppy agreed. She tried to be cheerful. ‘And I can read it to Seraphina.’ Then she remembered that Seraphina’s dad would be out of prison next time she visited, so she wouldn’t be able to read it to her. But she didn’t say anything. No point.
Chapter Fifteen
Poppy went to visit Will. Her mum came with her to the hospital.
‘I’ll take you up to the ward,’ Irena said, as they stood together in the busy reception area. ‘Then I’ll go on to the prison. Can you last out for two hours?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ said Poppy, although she couldn’t think what she and Will would do for so long. ‘I can always read a book.’
‘Or play a game on your Nintendo,’ said Irena encouragingly, which was odd, because she usually preferred her to read a book, however often Poppy told her about games like Brain Trainer II. Irena pushed Poppy ahead of her into the lift which was already bursting with people, including a boy on crutches and an old man in a wheelchair.
It was a relief to be out of the lift and heading down more corridors to the ward. Poppy was glad not to be searched like she had been in prison, mouth open, legs apart, or herded into groups by suspicious screws. It had made her feel guilty, as if she’d done something wrong.
‘There he is!’ Irena waved towards a bed at the end of a long, wide room. ‘I might be less than two hours.’ She gave Poppy a quick kiss and turned back the way they’d come.
Will was playing with his Kindle when Poppy reached him.
‘Oh, hi,’ He threw it to the end of his bed.
‘Hi. You seem OK,’ said Poppy.
‘Bored, that’s all, bored. They’ve done the tests, but I’m still here.’ He scrunched up his pale face into an expression of acute boredom.
Poppy laughed. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Heart. I was born with a bad heart. I’m not even going to talk about it or I’ll die of boredom. Instead of dying of a bad heart.’ He laughed.
Poppy thought, they’d been in the same school for years and she’d never known it was a bad heart that made him odd. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll fix it. They always do. Anyway, don’t let’s talk about it any more. How’s your dad? What’s the news? I did some more drawings.’ He leant over to the locker by his bed and took out several sheets of paper which he thrust towards Poppy.
She sat down and looked at pictures of the prison, of courtyards and walls, of buildings with slit windows, of prison officers and prisoners, of visitors and dogs. ‘They’re brilliant!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re so clever!’ Which was true. Will drew incredibly well. ‘The only thing is,’ she added, ‘everyone looks a bit too cheerful, as if they’re in a holiday camp or a shopping mall.’
‘Oh.’ Will looked so disappointed that Poppy immediately regretted her honesty.
‘I’ve got some drawing for you to do,’ she said quickly.
‘What?’ asked Will, unconvinced.
‘When we were in prison, my dad and I started writing a story for kids and we need pictures for it. My mum did some lovely drawings, but they were taken away.’
‘What’s the story about?’
‘It’s called “The Rat Who Wanted to be Liked”.’
Poppy told Will the story so far. When she’d finished, Will lay back in his pillows and frowned.
‘I’m just like that rat.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Yes, I am. Before your dad went into prison and we made friends, no one wanted to be with me. I quite understand Rat’s p.o.v.’
‘So you will do the pictures?’
‘Sure.’ He paused. ‘Does Rat make some friends in the end?’
‘Oh, yes!’ said Poppy eagerly, although she hadn’t thought how the story would carry on.
‘Let’s get started, then.’
Just as in the prison, the time shot by once they entered Rat’s world.
‘Rat decided people would like him if they felt sorry for him. “I’ll put a big bandage on my head,” he said to himself. Then he poked his head out of his hole.
Mother Rabbit, running past with her baby bunnies, stopped for a moment. Her bunnies stared. “There’s wicked Rat pretending to be hurt,” she said, and hurried them by.
Poor Rat retreated into his hole. Since nobody else would, he felt very sorry for himself.
Just then, he heard a loud shriek above his head. He took no notice because he was safe – and it wouldn’t be a friend of his because he had no friends. So it wasn’t his problem.
Then he thought, that was the whole problem. He had no problems because he wasn’t a very nice person. Well, that’s what people believed.
Cautiously, he put his nose out of the hole. His whiskers quivered. . .’
‘Stop!’ said Will, who’d been scribbling away. ‘I’m done. Got to have a break. Let’s carry on another day.’
Poppy looked up and saw her mum striding towards them.
‘Quick!’ She gathered up Will’s drawings and put them in his bedside locker. ‘Keep it a surprise,’ she explained. She didn’t want to hurt her mum’s feelings.
Hardly stopping to say ‘Hi’ to Will, Irena took Poppy away.
‘How’s Dad?’ asked Poppy. But her mum didn’t answer until they were at the bus stop, and then it was with another question.
‘You love your dad? Yes?’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Poppy was sure other kids’ mums didn’t ask things like that. But then, other kids’ dads weren’t in prison. Well, no
t that many. ‘Course I do.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Irena stopped talking again until they were on the bus. Then she said in a bright tone, ‘Would you like to live in Poland?’
‘Poland!’ Poppy was as shocked as if she’d suggested living on Mars.
‘Poland. My home. Where I was born. You are half Polish, you know.’ Irena looked offended.
‘But Mum—’ Poppy began, and stopped. She was going to say, ‘What about my friends?’ But who were her friends? Will in hospital? Angel?
Instead she said, ‘England is my home.’ She’d only been to Poland once, when she was too young to remember. Her mum couldn’t be serious. She wanted to shout, ‘What about Dad?’
‘You are right,’ Irena muttered gloomily. ‘My job here too.’
Poppy looked up, ‘This is our stop,’ she said.
That evening Angel rang. Poppy wondered how he’d got her number.
‘Hey, you.’
‘Hi.’
‘Guess what?’
‘What?’
‘My dad’s back inside.’
‘But he’s only just out!’ Poppy exclaimed.
‘Yeah. One day. Bad scene. Breached his licence first evening.’ What’s that?’
‘Places he’s not allowed to go. He went. My mum’s not happy.’
Poppy couldn’t think what to say. Angel always seemed so in charge of things, but now he seemed to want help. ‘That’s terrible,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Yeah. Thought I’d tell you.’
‘Yes,’ said Poppy. There was a silence. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Yeah.’ In the background she heard Gabriel wailing, then shrieks from Seraphina.
‘Got company,’ she said.
‘I’m entering them for the X-Factor,’ said Angel – and they both laughed.
Chapter Sixteen
‘So they’re both inside again,’ said Poppy to Angel. They were together in their special spot at the far end of the playground. Other children seemed to leave them alone.
‘Police car, lights whirring, sirens shrieking.’ It was almost as if Angel was boasting. ‘My dad’s a dangerous fella.’
Poppy thought, this is a really wild world I’m getting to know about. First-hand, not through films or TV. Then she thought, but my dad’s not like that. She didn’t say it to Angel, though, because it would have seemed rude.
‘It’s drugs, isn’t it,’ said Angel, in a casual voice. But Poppy could see he was upset. ‘Where I live, everyone starts so young, using, dealing. I had an older bro, you know. Mum was only sixteen when she had him. Took an overdose, didn’t he.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Poppy.
Angel ran a finger along his throat. ‘Things happen. Bad things.’ ‘That’s terrible,’ said Poppy and added, half to herself, ‘I wonder what they think my dad did that was so bad.’
‘Dunno.’ Angel looked embarrassed and shifted uncomfortably in his trainers – big black ones that looked more like school regulation but were probably just as expensive as the silver and blue ones. ‘It’s always drugs. Or drink. Or both.’
‘I mean, what was bad enough to get him caught, even when he’s innocent?’
Angel didn’t answer this and Poppy didn’t say anything either, and soon they drifted apart.
For the next few days, Poppy tried not to think about her dad. Will was still in hospital because it had been decided he needed an operation. ‘Only a little one, this time,’ he’d told Poppy bravely. This left her two choices: to be alone or to let her old friends come back.
‘Want to see my new game?’ Jude caught up with her on her way to school.
‘That’s terrific.’ Together they bent together over the Nintendo.
‘I don’t believe it!’ shouted Jude, as she crashed out of the game.
‘My turn!’ Poppy was so relieved at being back with the girls that she was louder and more giggly than she’d ever been before.
The day seemed to go quickly too, as she walked around the school with Jude’s and Amber’s arms wound round her. She couldn’t get close like that with Will or Angel. They were boys, weren’t they.
Every break, the girls gathered in a huddle and no one mentioned prison once.
‘Want to watch Dr Who at my place?’ asked Jude on their way home, and Poppy agreed eagerly.
‘Can’t imagine anything better.’
‘Stay the night, too?’ asked Jude and, although they were not usually allowed sleep-overs during the week, this time both their mothers gave permission.
It was a beautiful evening and they went straight out to the garden.
‘Let’s jump,’ suggested Jude, and they raced towards the big trampoline.
‘Higher! Higher!’ shrieked Poppy. The slanting sun dazzled her eyes, and her legs shot up and down like pistons.
‘Let’s hold hands!’
Up and down they went, mostly together, sometimes getting out of time, before tumbling down and rolling about on the springy surface until they found their feet again.
Poppy felt she could jump for ever. Her curly hair came out of its band and jumped with her, her breath was mixed in with laughter. It was as if the last few weeks had been a nightmare, not real at all.
‘You two mad girls, I’ve put drinks and biscuits on the table outside!’ Jude’s mum, Sally, shouted at them.
Reluctantly, Poppy got off the trampoline and followed Jude.
‘Hey, lazybones.’ Jude kicked the leg of one of her brothers who had just leant over to help himself to one of their biscuits. ‘Get your own.’
‘Hi, Poppy. Nice to see you around.’ Ben smiled at her.
Next morning was the same: happy, ordinary life and no mention of prison.
At school too, Poppy felt she was moving and breathing more freely. She even managed to listen in Miss Bavani’s lessons.
‘We’re going to the seaside this weekend,’ said Jude, as they walked home together. ‘Want to come?’
‘Brilliant!’ agreed Poppy without a second thought.
It was only when she got home and Irena said, ‘I suggest we set off a bit more early tomorrow, try to get ahead of the crowds,’ that she remembered Saturday was prison-visiting day.
‘Not me,’ she said airily. ‘Jude’s asked me to the seaside.’
They were standing in the kitchen, but now Irena sat down. She put her head in her hands.
‘Can’t wait to swim,’ said Poppy, turning to go out. ‘Have you seen my costume anywhere?’
Upstairs in her bedroom, she fought fiercely not to feel sorry for her mum or picture her dad’s disappointment if she didn’t turn up. In the end, she found a book to take her mind off it and went to sleep early, without even saying goodnight to her mum.
Some time later, she felt her mum’s presence in the darkness closing the curtains and brushing the hair from her hot face. ‘Goodnight, my darling.’
‘’Night, Mum.’
The sea was like the trampoline; it took Poppy’s mind off her dark troubles; all she wanted was to enjoy herself.
‘Watch out, Pops!’ It was odd hearing the nickname shouted out that only her dad used. Rico, Jude’s younger brother, came hurtling towards her on his surfboard. She dived swiftly out of the way, laughing delightedly as bubbles blew up into the blue sky.
Jude joined her. ‘I can’t think why it isn’t raining. It always rains when we come to the seaside.’
Up on the beach, Sally was laying out an enormous Italian-style picnic: cold pasta, salami, olives, long sticks of crunchy bread. There was even a tablecloth and real cutlery.
‘You’d think my mum was Italian rather than my dad,’ said Jude, as they paddled out of the sea and strolled towards the food.
‘It’s just like Dad’s restaurant,’ mocked Rico, giving his mum a hug.
‘Wipe the sand off your hands,’ said Sally, handing them a packet of tissues.
Poppy lay back on the sand, eyes half-shut, stomach filled with delicious food. She’d never f
elt so contented.
‘Sure you’ve had enough?’ asked Sally.
‘We’re stuffed,’ said Ben, which seemed to please his mum. ‘Anyone ever told you you should become a pro?’
And everyone laughed, because Sally had been a professional cook when she first met her husband and still worked when she could.
Poppy thought lazily that even in the good times, life at home hadn’t been like this.
‘I want to stay here for ever and ever,’ murmured Jude.
‘Me too,’ said Poppy in heartfelt tones. ‘Your family’s so great.’
‘You are going to stay the night, aren’t you?’ said Jude.
‘I’d love to,’ answered Poppy. Then, finding new energy, she jumped to her feet and shouted, ‘Race you to the ice-cream man.’
‘Wait! I’ll get some money from Mum.’ Then they were off, speeding across the sand, dodging sunbathers and boys kicking balls.
‘I won!’ cried Poppy.
‘But I’ve got the money,’ replied Jude, and they both took their place in the queue for ice-cream.
Going home in the car, Poppy fell half asleep. She felt herself fall against the solid shoulder of Ben, who gave her a friendly shove. Sitting between Jude and Ben, she had never felt so safe. And no one had mentioned prison once.
‘You’re not coming back tonight, darling?’ Irena’s voice was sad and tired.
‘No,’ said Poppy brusquely. She hadn’t rung her mum straight away, even though she knew Irena would be anxious.
‘Big Frank sent his love.’ This sounded odd. Her mum never called him Big Frank.
‘Thanks.’ Poppy couldn’t even bring herself to ask how he was, because she didn’t want to hear the answer, which was sure to be depressing. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Yes. I’m glad you had a happy day.’
‘Yes. Bye.’ Poppy put down the phone. Somewhere in the background Jude was suggesting a game of Monopoly and her mum was saying it was too late.
‘Just half an hour, then we’ll leave it for tomorrow,’ pleaded Jude. ‘You can play, too.’
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