Queen Dolly

by Emmy Ellis

  My eyelids grew heavy, and the last image I remember was of pulling pink ribbon from a brightly coloured box and having a mam that didn’t look like mine singing happy birthday.

  * * * *

  “Wake the hell up, you stinky little cow.”

  I snapped my eyes open to see a mam that was definitely mine, staring down at me. She’d snatched my blanket away, dumped it on the chair arm. Cold air bit my skin.

  “What you doing going to sleep? You know you’ve got to wake me by seven. Bob’s coming to collect some money. I got a new bloke starting tonight. I’m not even fucking dressed. Silly little bitch.”

  Her fist against my temple sent pain from one ear into the other. I scrambled off the chair, blinked, and clutched my blanket to my chest. We stared at one another. Spittle dribbled down one side of Mam’s chin, and her cheeks blazed red with fury. Her breaths slowed. What I thought of as hatred in her eyes softened somewhat, and she flopped sideways and landed in the chair I’d just vacated.

  Sobs jolted her slim frame. She bunched her eyes shut, and tears sprouted from them, slithering down her cheeks, their journey ending at her jaw line. It seemed I stared at her for a long time until her cries stopped.

  With eyes still closed she said, “The birthday fairy came this morning. She forgot to leave your present on your bed and she put it in the bin.”

  My heart leapt.

  “Go and get it out, Carmel,” Mam said, her voice low.

  I turned from her and left the house, walking down the small alley between our house and the next. Two metal dustbins stood side by side. I lifted the lid of the bin with our house number, forty-four, on it. A doll lay on the top of household refuse. A porcelain doll, just like Belinda’s.

  Except a diagonal crack ran across my doll’s face, and she’d lost an eye. Baked bean sauce dirtied her yellow hair, and a wet teabag stained her dress; a piece of potato skin stuck to the ivory frill around the neck.

  But—she was my dolly, and I loved her already. I would fix her face and wash her dress, clean her hair and brush it nice.

  I named that doll Nelson.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  And so my relationship with Nelson began. I hugged her to my chest, dirt and all, and made my way back inside. Mam stuffed a newspaper and magazine down the back of the sofa—her attempt at tidying up. Her dressing gown flapped open and revealed sagging tits. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.

  “Thank you for the doll, Mam.”

  “Go to my room and get my fucking dress. Hurry up.”

  I held Nelson’s hand and ran upstairs.

  “We’ll be going out in a minute, Nelson. We can’t go to the shop because Mam hasn’t had her medicine so she won’t remember to give me any money. But we’ll go for a walk, all right?”

  All right, Carmel. That sounds lovely.

  “It will be lovely, Nelson. I’ll show you all the places I go to, and on Thursday you can watch me have my pictures taken.”

  Can I have my picture taken too?

  I stood on my tiptoes and took down Mam’s dress on its hanger from the front of her scarred wooden wardrobe. “Oh, I don’t know, Nelson. I’ll have to ask Bob. If he comes round before we go out, I’ll see what he says.”

  Okay, Carmel. I like having you as a friend. Will you be my best friend for ever and ever?

  “I will, Nelson. So long as you’ll be mine.”

  I’ll be your best friend. I like you. I think you’re wonderful and pretty and fun and everything.

  I held Nelson in one hand and Mam’s dress as high as I could with the other to prevent it from dragging on the floor.

  Downstairs, Mam snatched it from me, flung off her dressing gown and said, “You best take care of that doll, Carmel. Not every kid gets a doll like that.” She stepped into her dress. The sequins sewn onto the shoulders…how they twinkled in the light from the bare ceiling bulb. “You named the doll yet? Every doll’s gotta have a name.”

  “Her name’s Nelson,” I said.

  Mam laughed so long and hard as she zipped up the front of her dress that I thought she’d explode. She coughed, and her eyes watered, mascara from the previous day making black tears run down her cheeks. Cheeks that matched the colour of her red dress.

  “Now look what you made me do,” she said. “Fucking near made me choke myself.” Mam swiped her palms over her face. “Nelson, eh? The Admiral? Why did you call your doll that?”

  “Because she’s only got one eye.”

  “And how the hell do you know about that geezer?”

  “I learned about him at school.”

  Your mam’s mean, Carmel.

  I squeezed Nelson’s hand to let her know she should be quiet.

  Mam placed her hands on bony hips, leaned her weight on one leg. “Jeez. When I was your age I never learned nothing like that. You wanna know why Nelson’s only got one eye?”

  “Because he lost it having a fight. Mrs. Draper said—”

  Mam’s mouth formed a tight, thin line, and she narrowed her eyes. “Not that Nelson, you silly bitch. The doll.”

  I nodded, wanting to know.

  “Because I poked her fucking eye out and smacked her face against the wall. Wanna know why I did that?”

  I blinked and nodded again.

  “Because you didn’t come home on your birthday and eat chips with me. Because you’re an ungrateful little cow, aren’t you?”

  Nod number three.

  Mam stared at me briefly then flounced off into the kitchen shouting, “Make sure you stay out until nine tonight. Got two coming round back to back. Pinch a coat from school yet, kid?”

  “No, Mam.”

  “You’ll be cold out there, then.”

  I stood, unable to move my feet, and heard one of the kitchen drawers open. The sound of Mam’s make-up being tossed on the worktop filtered into the living room, a sign she was readying herself for the night ahead.

  Why don’t you put your cardigans on, Carmel? You won’t be cold if you wear both.

  I turned, walked up to my room, and grabbed them from the small heap of dirty clothing on the floor.

  “You sit there, Nelson.” I bent the doll’s legs and sat her against the wall at the head end of my bed. No pretty pillowcase covered my flat and stained pillow, but Nelson didn’t mind. I put my cardigans on. They smelt of dirt. The scent of Belinda’s clothes came to mind, and I paused, thinking for a tiny while.

  It wasn’t fair. Really wasn’t fair how life treated people differently. My childish mind only saw the things I dearly wanted—scented soap, nice clothes, a clean and tidy house. I had none of them, and Belinda had them all. I closed my eyes and bunched them shut, flared my nostrils, and breathed in the odour of my room—the stench of a rotting, wasted life.

  Bile twisted in my guts, and I imagined it to be a whirlpool like I’d seen on TV. I squeezed my eyes tighter. Mustn’t let the tears escape. The inside of my nose stung from the effort, and a sob that sounded like a cough barked from my mouth.

  I won’t cry. I won’t…

  I remember thinking that. Remember it all.

  The blast of Mam’s hairdryer barged into my thoughts. She must have wet her hair at the kitchen sink.

  A click sounded, indicating the electricity meter had shut off—not enough money in it again. The house darkened. Night noises from our street sneaked through the crack in my bedroom window. Kids shrieked, and cars drove past, their wet tyres slashing through puddles. I widened my eyes to adjust to the darkness and patted my bed for Nelson. I grasped her hand and left my room with her dangling by my side.

  “Carmel? Carmel. Get your arse down here. Quickly.”

  I scooted downstairs, my senses guiding me to the kitchen.

  “Yes, Mam?”

  “Here. Go and get someone to swap all this change for a fifty pence piece. I’m fucking sick of that electric meter running out so quickly. Just when I’m doing my bloody hair and the men are due round soon.”

  I stretched out my hand, and
somehow, in the darkness, Mam found my palm, depositing a jingle of coins.

  “Get a fucking move on,” she said. “Ask the snotty bitch next door, and if she hasn’t got one ask the dirty old bloke at the end of the row.”

  I groped my way to the front door, reached up, and thumbed the latch so I could get back indoors. Cold air snapped at my nose and cheeks, and I walked down our short pathway then up next door’s. Snotty’s front door had been painted recently—a posh dark red. I glanced over at ours, scored with deep gouges and peeling brown paint. Shame soared through me. I balled my hand into a fist and rapped on Snotty’s door.

  A light snapped on in her hallway, and a black, human shape loomed behind the netted window.

  “Who is it?”

  “Carmel.” I heard her sigh even through the wood.

  “What do you want?”

  “Need to change some money for fifty p for the meter.”

  Her shadow moved, and the light snapped off. I stood for a moment, wondering whether to knock again, then turned and walked to the end of our row, to the old man’s house. His door wasn’t wood but UPVC, with a posh silver handle. Two glass panes held stained glass, like those in a church—clear glass with a tulip pattern in each centre; a green stem and a red flower. I pressed my finger on the bell pad.

  The outside light, shaped like a black iron lantern, popped on. Muffled whistling from inside the house grew louder as the old man neared his front door. The silver handle moved downwards, and the door opened.

  “Well, hello, Carmel. How’re you diddling, my dear?”

  “I’m okay, Mr Lawton. Me mam sent me to ask if you can change this money for a fifty p.” I held up my coin-filled palm.

  Mr Lawton stepped back, and his right arm disappeared behind the door. I knew he was reaching for the old gravy tin he kept on a shelf.

  Bringing the tin to his waist, he flipped open the lid. “Well, I’m sure to have a fifty p in here. Got to keep a stock of them for my meter, see. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  The coins tinkled as he moved them around. Mr Lawton’s eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses. Mam said he was a dirty old man, but he looked nice and clean to me. Finding fifty p, he brought it out of the box and held it out.

  “Got one. Here you go.” He handed me the coin but made no move to take what I held out to him. He closed the tin lid and placed it back on his shelf. “Now, then, you have a nice night, won’t you, my dear?” He moved to close the door.

  “Mr Lawton?”

  “Yes?”

  “You forgot to take my money.”

  “So I did,” he said. “Well, if I forgot it means it wasn’t much on my mind, so I can’t need it too badly. What say you keep those coins, buy some sweets at the shop?”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Mr Lawton.”

  “Have a nice night now, Carmel.”

  I turned, waved, and skipped down the path, the coins clutched in one fist and Nelson’s arm in the other. At our front door, I pulled down my sock and hid the loose change inside, nestling them underneath my foot so they didn’t make a noise. I stepped inside.

  “Took you long enough.” Mam stood in the hallway in front of the cupboard under the stairs. The electricity meter was housed in there among old shoes and all manner of junk. I jumped as I’d expected her to still be in the kitchen.

  “Snotty didn’t have one so I had to ask Mr Lawton,” I said.

  “Ask you in to cop a feel, did he?”

  Cop a feel? Mr Lawton?

  “No, he didn’t, Mam.”

  I closed the door, walked to Mam, and handed her the fifty p.

  “Must be mellowing in his old age.” She handed back the money. “Get in that cupboard and feed the meter. And hurry up about it. I haven’t got all bleedin’ night.”

  The cupboard belched out the smell of dirty feet and staleness. I crouched, sat Nelson beside the door opening, and climbed into the cupboard. The stiletto heel of a shoe dug into my right knee. I clamped my lips together to stop a squeal.

  The electricity meter sat on the back wall, and in my haste to get to it and put the coin in, I dropped it amongst the mountain of junk.

  My heart thudded. I swear Mam’s breath touched the back of my neck, and I scrabbled about to find the coin. I had to be quick, else her temper would snap—Mam turned so nasty without her medicine. I patted around and dug my hand between her boots and shoes. The hook of a coat hanger snagged on the sleeve of my cardigan, and I flapped my arm to get it off. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Haven’t you done it yet?” Mam’s voice may as well have belonged to a demon—that’s how it sounded to me.

  Should I tell her I’ve dropped the coin?

  I rooted around in the debris. “Not yet.” Vomit filled my throat, and I swallowed it back. My palms grew sweaty.

  Come on. Where are you? Please let me find you. Please.

  “Carmel! Put. The. Fucking. Coin. In. The. Meter.”

  Mam would have been gritting her teeth.

  A lump filled in my throat. “I’ve dropped it.”

  “You’ve what?”

  Mam’s fist landed smack in the centre of my back. She hoisted me so quickly from the cupboard that the back of my head cracked against the doorframe. I clamped my jaw and closed my eyes to shut out the pain as it spread over my skull. After lifting me into the air, Mam threw me down next to Nelson, the doll’s foot digging into the base of my spine. The wire coat hanger, still attached to my sleeve, jangled against the wall. Without looking at it, I took it off and dropped it on the floor.

  My eyes had adjusted to the dimness enough for me to see anger in Mam’s eyes—the streetlight outside our front door shone through the glass and illuminated her features. She was a sinister dragon. At least, that’s how I saw her.

  She lunged into the cupboard, grabbed a shoe, and threw it at me. It smacked into the side of my head, and before I had a chance to register the pain, more items from the cupboard rained down on me. With each new throw, each new pain that sprung on my body, Mam said, “You’re stupid. You can’t even do that one simple thing. One small thing like putting a fucking coin in the meter and you go and cock it up.”

  Anger abated somewhat, Mam swooped down on hands and knees and patted around in the cupboard. She must have found the coin, because it tinkled into the slot. Mam turned the silver key handle, the coin plunked into the belly of the meter, and the electricity flicked back on.

  I must have looked a sight: a young girl sitting on the floor, crying and rubbing her painful body, snot dribbling from her nose, face possibly ruddy and streaked with tears.

  “Get up,” Mam snapped. She looked angrier than I’d seen her before—brow all furrowed and features twisted in spite. Her pursed mouth, open slightly, showed the blackness of her front teeth—the legacy of heroin. “Get the fuck out of here. And when you come back, make sure I don’t see you. I don’t want to see your shitty little face until the morning.”

  A sob hitched in my throat. Without taking my gaze from Mam’s, I reached behind me for Nelson and stood up.

  “What the fuck are you staring at? Get out. Get out.”

  One last glimpse at Mam’s angry face, and I switched the direction of my gaze to her bunched fists. From past experience, I knew if I didn’t get away from her right then, she’d strike me with them. I turned, stumbled over scattered shoes, and fled down the hallway, skidding on the cheap linoleum and banging my shoulder on the front door. Grappling with the lock while holding Nelson and shaking proved difficult. Mam’s footsteps bounded behind me, and I managed to open the door and slip through it just in time, only to bump into the chest of her first customer that night.

  “Henry,” Mam said, her voice on the other end of the scale to what it had just been—sweet, polite, breathy.

  I ran to the end of our street without looking back and didn’t stop until I was safely around the corner.

  Carmel. Your mam’s a monster.

  “I know, Nelson.”

  Your ma
m’s house is smelly and dirty and a nasty place to be.

  “I know.”

  Your mam doesn’t love you like she’s supposed to.

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I brought Nelson to eye level and looked at her poor, cracked face.

  Your mam is wicked, Carmel. She hurt me and she hurts you.

  I sniffed and inhaled deeply. Then ran to the park.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It’s not as easy as that. I have to wait until the right time. I can’t just get them when you tell me to. What? Do you seriously think I can just walk up to them and do it? You make it sound like I can turn it on and off like a switch but I can’t. I just can’t.

  Last time was all right. Last time it happened…well, the opportunity arose and it all worked out, didn’t it? No one around. No one to see. No one to point the finger.

  I beg your pardon? Oh, come on! I’m not going to listen to you anymore today. You’re just being silly.

  I mean it. Go away. I don’t want to hear your voice right now.

  Do you want me to smash you to pieces?

  No? Well then.

  Shut. Up.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Though the darkening sky should have prevented kids from going to the park, it didn’t. Streetlights and a giant circle of trees surrounded the play apparatus set up in the centre of a large field. We could play until our mams called us in. Well, other kids’ mams called them in, but I went home when instinct told me the men had left our house.

  “Wanna go to the park, Nelson?”

  Yes. Will you push me on a swing?

  “Yep.”

  I traipsed over the field, grasping Nelson’s hand all the way. As I neared the central park area, I squinted to make out who played there. I smiled. Belinda climbed the side ladder of the monkey bars, grabbed the first overhead bar, and swung down. She swayed her body to gain momentum and moved one hand at a time to further bars until she’d made it to the other end. Her long hair danced from side to side, and she clambered down the other ladder and back to solid ground. No other children were out tonight. I wasn’t surprised. The cold chill of the wind ensured the sensible kids stayed indoors.