Ice Lolly (9 page)

There is a tap at the door and Michael’s voice asks if he can come in. I am glad it is Michael and not Holly. He comes over to the bed, where I am sitting with Mr Pooter.

“How is he?” he says.

I say that he is much better now that he is taking his tablets. “He’s eating properly – and he’s not being sick any more!”

I say this in case Auntie Ellen has sent him up here to spy, though I don’t think that is why he has come. He seems to want to say something, but doesn’t quite know how. He’s standing there, looking awkward.

“What’re you reading?” he says.

I show him.

“
Little Women
?” He pulls a face. “Isn’t that a bit yucky?”

I tell him that it was one of Mum’s favourites, and mine, too.

“Don’t you ever read ordinary books?” he says.

I frown and ask him what he means by “ordinary books”.

He says, “I dunno…the sort of stuff that girls usually read. Stuff that Holly reads.”

I tell him, not meaning to brag or anything, that I have grown out of the sort of stuff that Holly reads, but
I do read lots of teenage books. “It’s just that I haven’t actually got any.”

I used to get them from the library. I went to the library practically every week. Sometimes, as well as books for me, I’d pick up ones that Mum had ordered, then I’d stagger back triumphantly with my school bag full to bursting. I can’t go to the library now cos there isn’t one. Not anywhere close.

“I can always go up the attic for you,” says Michael. “Get you something down.” He reaches out a hand and strokes Mr Pooter’s head. There’s a silence. He’s definitely trying to say something, but I don’t know what. And then, abruptly, he says it, “I just heard Mum and Dad talking. I heard Mum saying that it’s time—” He stops. Little by little, I start to edge back into my ice house. Michael swallows. “She said,
it’s time that cat went.
She said she can’t have the place ruined and they can’t afford to keep paying out small fortunes to the vet.”

There is another silence; longer, this time. I curl myself up, a tight ball in the middle of the ice.

“Dad said…he said he couldn’t do it to you. then Mum said,
But you don’t mind doing it to me.”

“Doing what?” I say. My voice is quite calm and steady. Just a bit frosted, because of the ice.

“Well, like…letting the place be messed up and everything?” I see Michael’s eyes flicker across to the yellow stain on the carpet. “I didn’t hear any more cos they stopped talking soon as they realised I was there. So I don’t know if Mum – if she managed to – to talk Dad round. She usually does. But maybe this time…I don’t know. I just thought I ought to – well, like, warn you. Or something. Cos I know how you love Mr Pooter!”

He is so embarrassed, he is practically squirming. I felt like telling him,
it’s all right, I’m in my ice house.

Desperately he says, “Maybe you could talk to Dad. He’s on your side, he really is! It’s just that Mum…she kind of bullies him. You know?”

I nod.

“So you’ll talk to him, yeah?”

I say maybe.

“I think you should,” says Michael. “Cos otherwise—”

Otherwise, Auntie Ellen will have her way. But even if she doesn’t – even if Uncle Mark sticks up for me – I would still be scared to go out and leave Mr Pooter alone with her. I would be scared of coming back and finding him not there. So I am not going to talk to Uncle Mark. I know what I am going to do.

I call after Michael, as he leaves the room. “Is it tomorrow you’re going to visit your auntie?”

“Auntie Mei. Yes! We’re all going,” says Michael. “You’re coming with us.”

“I think p’raps I’ll stay behind,” I say.

“You can’t do that,” he says. “We’re going to be out all day! Mum won’t let you.”

She can’t
make
me go.

“Well, it’s her choice,” says Auntie Ellen. “If she prefers to shut herself away—”

“No, no, we can’t have that!” says Uncle Mark. “She’s family, of course she must come. She’s been invited.”

“For heaven’s sake, if the child doesn’t
want
to,” says Auntie Ellen. She sounds exasperated. “Why force her?”

“Yes,” says Holly. “Why force her?”

“No one’s forcing her,” says Uncle Mark. “I’d just feel happier if she came.”

They argue for a while, then Auntie Ellen says, “Laurel, just make up your mind! Are you coming, or not?”

Uncle Mark looks at me almost pleadingly. “Laurel?” he says. I stay silent, trying to do it in an apologetic kind of way, as I would hate for Uncle Mark’s feelings to be hurt.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” snaps Auntie Ellen. “Just leave her. She’s old enough to know her own mind.”

Auntie Ellen wins, like she always does. For once I’m relieved, though I do feel a bit sorry for Uncle Mark, especially when he asks me if I’m sure I’ll be all right, left on my own.

“We’re not likely to get back till some time this evening. It’s going to be a long day.”

I tell him that I don’t mind being on my own, and he goes off shaking his head and looking worried, which
makes me feel guilty. Uncle Mark has been kind to me. He’s tried his best and I know he loved Mum in spite of them being so different. He is always talking about his “little sis”. But I have to look after Mr Pooter!

I watch from my bedroom window as the car pulls out of the drive. As soon as it has gone, I take Mr Pooter’s carrying box from the bottom of the wardrobe and settle him in it, with one of my sweaters for him to lie on. Then I pack my school bag with as many clothes as I can cram in, and sit down to write a note for Uncle Mark. I have been composing it in my head all night and know exactly what I’m going to say.

Dear Uncle Mark,

Please don’t be upset but I am running away with Mr Pooter to keep him safe as I know Auntie Ellen does not like him in her house.

Thank you very much for all that you have done for me, and especially for paying the vet’s bills. I know they were expensive.

Yours sincerely, Laurel

PS I am very sorry that I have had to use some of the money from Auntie Ellen’s pot but I needed it for my train fare. I promise I will do my best to pay it back.

I take one last look round the room and realise that I can’t possibly go without
Diary of a Nobody.
I squash it in amongst my clothes. then I see Blue Bunny, forlornly sitting on my pillow, so I squash him in as well. I hate leaving all the rest of Mum’s books behind, especially as I am not sure Auntie Ellen will ever let me have them back, but what else can I do? I know that Mum will understand. She loved her books, but she loved Mr Pooter more.

I pick him up in his carrying box, sling my bag over my shoulder, and go downstairs into the empty house. I think the best place to leave my note would probably be on the kitchen table. I put an apple on top of it, to keep it from blowing away. auntie Ellen’s pot of money is in the kitchen cabinet. I tip it out on to the table and
begin to separate all the 10 and 20p pieces. I feel like a criminal. I hope, if Mum is watching, she understands why I am doing it. Silently I explain to her that it’s not for me, it’s for Mr Pooter. and I
will
pay it back, just as soon as I’m old enough to start earning money.

There is too much to go in my purse, so I have to use a plastic food bag, which I bury under all the knickers and T-shirts I’m taking with me. It is very heavy, and so is Mr Pooter in his carrying box. It takes me for ever to reach the bus stop as I have to keep breaking off to give my arms a rest. But I get there in the end and sit on the seat in the sunshine, waiting for the bus. I keep talking to Mr Pooter and telling him that we are going to Stevie’s. He loves Stevie! All cats love her. She is truly a cat person.

At last we reach the station. It is a good thing the bus stops practically outside as I am not sure how much further I could walk, carrying Mr Pooter. Well, I would have to, of course; if it was a mile I would still walk it. But I am very glad that it is not.

I buy a single ticket to London from one of the machines and go to look at the indicator board to check the next train and see which platform it leaves from. Mum would be proud of me, finding my way round! I am rather proud of me myself. I am sure Holly couldn’t do it, she is too used to being taken everywhere by car. I know she is only ten, but I think even when I was ten I would have had no problem.

Once we are on the train, I start to relax. I wonder whether I should call Stevie and tell her we are coming, but I am not quite brave enough. She always sounds so angry over the telephone. And she is sure to be in, because she always is. She never leaves her cats, except just to go shopping.

It takes fifty minutes to reach London. I remember, from when me and Mum came by train. I was younger, then, and it seemed like a really long journey. Now it seems quite short, it seems like we are rushing to our destination at the speed of light. I think this is perhaps because I am a little bit anxious about what is going to
happen when we get there. Partly I am anxious about Stevie and what she will say. I know she will welcome Mr Pooter, but I am not so sure she will welcome me. She really hates having people in her house! The other thing which makes me apprehensive is the journey from King’s Cross to Gospel Road. I
think
I can remember how it is done, and even if I can’t I can always find out. But how will I manage, on tubes and buses, with Mr Pooter? Well, I will just have to, that is all.

Quite suddenly, from somewhere inside my bag, my phone starts up. It startles me. Who can it be? Who has my number? Only Stevie! And, of course, Uncle Mark…I scrabble to get it out before it stops ringing.

Guardedly, I say, “Hello?”

I don’t recognise the voice at the other end. It’s a woman’s voice, very light and clear. “Is that Laurel?” it says. “Laurel, this is Andrea Stafford. I don’t know whether your mum ever mentioned me?”

I say no, she didn’t, hoping that it doesn’t sound rude. The name seems sort of familiar, though I can’t
think why. I’m sure I never heard it from Mum.

I listen in bewilderment as this unknown person tells me how she and Mum used to be best friends when they were at uni. Why is she ringing me and where did she get my number?

“Your mum wrote me a letter,” she says. “Oh, ages ago! Months ago. But she sent it via my publishers and I’m afraid they’ve only just forwarded it to me. I just got it yesterday.”

Now I remember. The letter I faithfully promised Mum that I would put in the post, and never did. Not until it was too late. I ought to confess, but I don’t really know who this person is. She might be cross.

“Laurel,” she says, “I was devastated when I heard what had happened. Your mum and I were so close! Even though we lost touch, I have never, ever stopped thinking of her. As soon as I got the letter I tried telephoning, but there wasn’t any reply, so I rushed straight up here this morning, to your old address. that was when I discovered. Your neighbour – Miss Murray?
She gave me the number of your mobile. In fact I’m here with her right now, I don’t know if you’d like to sp—”

And then the phone goes dead. No signal. I switch it off and sit staring. I still can’t quite make out who this woman is.
Andrea.
Mum never talked of anyone called Andrea. and imagine Stevie letting her into her house! Stevie never lets people into her house. She’ll be cross as hornets. I start to tremble and wonder what I am going to do if Stevie won’t let me stay. I can’t go back to Uncle Mark’s! Not now I’ve stolen Auntie Ellen’s money.

The phone rings again and cautiously I switch it on.

“Laurel?” It’s her again. Andrea. “Sorry, something happened. You cut out.”

“I’m on a train,” I say. “We went through a tunnel.”

“Oh! You’re travelling? This obviously isn’t a good time. Should I call you back later?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s all right. I’m…I’m on my way to Stevie!” I forget that she probably doesn’t know
who Stevie is. “Could you tell her I’ve got Mr Pooter?”

“Mr Pooter?” She sounds surprised, but in a joyful kind of way. “He’s still with you? He must be such an old boy! Oh, I would so love to see him again!”

“Please can you tell Stevie?” I say.

“Stevie?” she says. “You mean Miss Murray? You’re bringing him here, to Miss Murray?”

“Yes!” I almost shout it down the telephone. “I’m rescuing him!”

There is a slight pause. I hear the muffled sound of voices. Then she says, “Laurel, where are you, exactly?”

I look out of the window and see the words
KING’S CROSS
slide by.

“Coming into the station,” I say.

“Which station?”

“King’s Cross.”

“And you’ve actually got Mr Pooter with you? In a basket?”

“In his box. Stevie gave it to me.”

“Right. OK! Now, look, here’s what we’d like you to do…we’d like you to jump in a cab and come straight here. Can you do that? If you can’t, just stay put and I’ll come and get you.”

I try not to be insulted at her thinking I might not be capable of finding a cab. She’s not to know I used to find them for Mum all the time. But I don’t have any money left! I tell Andrea this and she says not to worry. “I’ll pay for the cab. Just get yourself here.”

The train pulls in, and we stand waiting for the doors to open. I remember last time I was with Mum, when she couldn’t walk too well, how a kind man helped her off; how we made our way together, very slowly, across the station to the cab rank. Now I’m on my own, just me and Mr Pooter. It is a comfort to think that Mum’s friend is waiting for me at Stevie’s. I think it might be a bit scary, otherwise.

As soon as I am in the cab, I call Stevie’s number.

“Laurel Winton,” barks Stevie, “is that you? What on earth do you think you’re playing at?”

I tell her that I had to come. “They were going to get rid of Mr Pooter!”

Stevie just grunts. then Andrea comes on the phone. “Laurel, did you get a cab all right? Good girl! We’ll expect you in about twenty minutes.”

I try not to watch the meter ticking up as we sit in traffic. It was late in the evening when me and Mum travelled back in a taxi, and the streets were almost empty. Even then Mum joked that we would have to live on bread and water for a week. I wonder if Andrea knows how much it is going to cost, or whether she will be horrified, like Auntie Ellen was when she saw the vet’s bill. Maybe, I think to myself hopefully, she is rich and it won’t bother her.

As we turn into Gospel Road I feel a shiver run through me. I feel that I should be excited, as if I’m coming home; but Mum isn’t there, and it’s not my home any more. Someone who must be Andrea is waiting outside Stevie’s. She is tall and slim, with sleek black hair and piercing blue eyes. I feel that she is
familiar, but I can’t think why. the minute she sees the taxi, she comes running to meet us.

“You got here! Thank goodness, I’ve been so worried. Oh, and there’s Mr Pooter! Just as I remember him…I’m Andi, by the way. Let me pay the cab, and we’ll go inside and talk.”

Andi.
That’s the name inside Mum’s
Diary of a Nobody.

“Let me have Mr Pooter!” She takes the carrying box from me. “How ever did you manage? He’s really heavy!”

Stevie is waiting at the front door. She looks cross. “All this coming and going! All this telephoning! Constant disruption. Well, come along, come along, don’t just stand there, letting my cats out. Get inside!”

I scuttle through the door, followed by Andi.

“What is all this nonsense?” demands Stevie, taking Mr Pooter out of his box. “Who’s trying to get rid of him?”

“Auntie Ellen,” I say. “ She doesn’t like him! He was
sick on her carpet and now she doesn’t want him in the house any more. She says animals shouldn’t be in the house. She says it’s time he went, she’s not going to pay any more vet’s bills, it’s just a waste of money and—”

“And what? She’s going to get him put down? Over my dead body!” Stevie stumps off towards the kitchen, Mr Pooter in her arms. A gaggle of cats trail after her. “You two—” Stevie waves a hand, “in there and do your talking. Get things sorted. I don’t want to hear from you till you’ve done.”

Meekly, me and Andrea go into the front room. Cats stare at us from the sofa, from chairs, from the table. Andrea wrinkles her nose, and I do the same. We look at each other and pull faces. I’d forgotten how pongy it was.

“Well,” says Andrea. She holds out her arms; I’m not sure whether she expects me to go to her or not. “My little Lollipop, all grown up!”

Lollipop. She called me Lollipop! Only Mum called me that. I look at her, uncertainly.

“This letter,” she says. “I only wish I’d got it sooner! I’m afraid publishers are not always very good at sending things on.”

I pick up a stripy cat and sit with him on my lap. I think he’s Stripy Thomas, the one who causes all the trouble, stealing the other cats’ food. He purrs, and kneads with his claws, making little pinpricks on my legs.

“I would have dropped everything and come immediately,” says Andrea. “My poor Sue, she must have thought I didn’t care!”

I know that I have to tell her. I swallow. “It was my fault,” I whisper. I explain how Mum had given me the letter to post on my way to school. How I was in too much of a rush to do it on the way there, so I was planning to do it on my way back. “Only I didn’t, cos…cos that was the day it happened.”

“You mean…” Andrea hesitates.

“It was the day Mum died! I forgot all about the letter. I found it weeks later, in my school bag, and…
that’s why you only just got it.”

I hang my head, gazing down at Thomas’s stripes. Grey, and white, and ginger. I wait for Andrea to say something. Is she going to be mad at me? I think I would be a bit mad at me. after all, Mum asked me specially. I knew it was important to her. I feel ashamed. I mumble that I’m sorry.

“No! Don’t be.” Andrea leans across and takes my hand. “I’m pleased that you’ve told me. I’ve been torturing myself, imagining your mum waiting for a telephone call, day after day, wondering why I never responded. I’m just so glad you posted the letter and didn’t simply throw it away. Did your mum…did she show you what was in it?