Lemonade Sky (11 page)

“Wonder what he’s doing?” said Tizz, when we’d sat patiently for half an hour. “D’you think he’s ringing her?”

“Dunno.”

“D’you think we should go and listen?”

I was tempted, but it would have seemed horribly like spying. Like Cal was someone we couldn’t trust. I said this to Tizz, but she angrily reminded me that it was us he was ringing about.

“We’ve got a right to know what’s happening!”

“He’ll tell us,” I said.

“But I want to hear what’s going on. I want to know what he’s saying!”

“So go and eavesdrop.”

Tizz started up, then sank back down.

“Both of us,” she said.

“No.” I wriggled myself deeper into the corner of the sofa. “I think we should wait till he’s done it.”

Tizz made a huffing sound.

“I’m not stopping
you
,” I said.

But it seemed that I was, cos she huddled into the other corner of the sofa and sat there scowling and hugging her legs up to her chin, looking like some kind of malevolent garden gnome.

“Know what?” I said. “If you went and sat in the backyard like that you’d do a great job scaring the pigeons away. Her Upstairs might even give you a tip.”

Her Upstairs was forever complaining about the pigeons. She said they were no better than vermin and ought to be exterminated.

So I’ll thank you, Mrs Tindall, to stop encouraging them!

Personally I think pigeons have as much right to exist as we do, but Her Upstairs has this mad bloodlust thing where she just wants to kill. Rats, mice, foxes, geese. Omigod, she hates geese! She says they make a disgusting mess all over the park. She s—

“OK!” The door suddenly opened and Cal appeared. We swung round to face him.

“Have you done it?” said Tizz.

“I have, and everything’s sorted. Your nan’s going to look after you till your mum comes back. I said I’d take you down to her right away. Oh, now, come on!” Our faces had obviously fallen. “You know it’s the right thing to do. At least you’ll be safe and well cared for.”

“But she barks,” said Tizz. “And she’s fraffly fraffly!”

“She’s your nan,” said Cal. “To be honest, she didn’t sound that bad. I mean, yeah, sure, she barks a bit, but when I told her about your mum she didn’t hesitate. She said straight off that you should go to her.”

Tizz was scowling. One of her particularly ferocious scowls that scrunched up her whole face.

“Seems like we don’t get to have any say in the matter.”

“That’s what comes of being kids,” said Cal.

Tizz gulped. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, baby, I know it isn’t.” Cal tried to put his arm round her, but she moved away, stiff and furious. “Nobody’s saying it’s funny. Not for you, not for your mum. But one thing you don’t want, and that’s to go into care. Believe me, I’ve been there! I was in care till I was sixteen years old. I’m not going to let that happen to you, which is why I’m taking you down to your nan. With any luck you’ll only be there for a day or two, and then your mum’ll be back. Now, let’s go see what you need to pack. Ruby! You’re in charge.”

We could only find one battered suitcase, so we had to cram lots of stuff into carrier bags. Sammy wanted to know where we were going.

“Are we going to find Mum?”

I said no, we were going to stay with our nan. “Just until Mum gets back.”

Sammy thought about this for a while, frowning as she watched me stuff knickers and T-shirts into a bag.

“What’s a nan?” she said.

I found it hard to believe she didn’t know what a nan was.

“It’s Mum’s mum,” I said.

Sammy seemed confused. She said she didn’t know that Mum had a mum.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” snapped Tizz. “Everybody has a mum.”

“Imagine,” I said, “you’re going to meet your nan for the very first time. It’ll be fun!”

Tizz snorted. I sent her a warning glare.

“Is she nice?” said Sammy.

“You bet,” said Cal. “She’s really eager to see you! She keeps horses,” he added. “If you’re good, she might even let you ride one.”

At this, Sammy burst into tears and said she didn’t want to ride one, she just wanted Mum! Poor Cal looked quite crestfallen. I felt really sorry for him. He was trying so hard, and we were all being so ungracious. I told Sammy rather sharply to dry her eyes and stop behaving like a baby.

“Cal’s taking us on holiday! You should be grateful.”

If Tizz had made one of her smart-mouth remarks I really think I would have thrown a pair of knickers at her. But she just picked up her carrier bag and snarled, “What are we waiting for? Let’s just
go
.”

“OK,” said Cal. “If you’re ready.”

I was worried in case Mum might turn up and wonder where we were, but Cal said he’d written her a note.

“In any case,” he said, “I’ll be coming straight back after I’ve dropped you off.”

He promised that he would stick around as long as was necessary.

“I won’t be going anywhere until your mum’s safely back. In the meanwhile you’re only half an hour away, and we can always talk on the phone, so don’t feel you’ve been abandoned.”

“But suppose you get itchy feet?” I said.

Cal laughed. “Just have to scratch them, I guess!”

I had always imagined someone’s Nan as being old and grey-haired, dressed in old lady clothes. All baggy and saggy. Shapeless cardies and stretchy pants. Pale pink or blue. Definitely not smart. But I’d also imagined that a nan would be someone warm and soft. A person you could go to for cuddles. That’s what I’d imagined.

Mum’s mum wasn’t any of those things. For a start, she wasn’t what you would call old. Not
old
old. And her clothes weren’t baggy or saggy. She was wearing a striped shirt, not a cardie, and instead of stretchy pants she had on a really cool pair of jeans. Ones I wouldn’t have minded for myself.

Above all, she wasn’t either warm or soft. She was slim and kind of tough-looking, with the same red hair as Mum only not pretty and curly like Mum’s. She wore it scraped back, very tight, from her face. And no make-up
at all.
Mum didn’t wear very much, but she did like a touch of eye shadow and lipstick. I had the feeling that this woman (I found it really
difficult to think of her as our nan) would probably regard make-up as too frivolous. Definitely
not
someone you would go to for cuddles.

Her house was a bit like her. Very clean and scrubbed and tidy. We were not used to clean and scrubbed, and Mum had never been a great one for tidiness, so that my heart went plummeting and I wondered how we would get on. I saw
trouble
, ’specially with Tizz. I couldn’t imagine this woman putting up with Tizz and her temper.

When she came to the door to greet us, a great barking dog came with her. She said, “Piper, pipe down! Take no notice of him, he’s quite harmless.”

The dog stopped barking and gave us a big wolfish grin, which I didn’t like the look of. Sammy cringed behind me, clutching at my legs. Only bold Tizz stood her ground. She said, “Hallo, dog,” and held out a hand. The dog immediately launched itself at her, which made Sammy scream. The woman snapped, “Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s not going to hurt you! He’s a Staffie. Softest dog in the world. All he wants is a hug.”

Didn’t look to me like that was what he wanted, but Tizz had both arms round his neck and seemed to be
kissing
him. The woman nodded, approvingly.

“That’s better! Let him get to know you. Now, then, who do we have? You must be Ruby?” I nodded, keeping a wary eye on the dog. “The little one is… I forget! Remind me.”

“This is Sammy,” said Cal.

“Short for Samantha, I presume? And this is… Tirzah?”

“Tizz,” I said.

“Tizz? What kind of a name is Tizz?”

If it came to that, what kind of a name was Tirzah? Mum only chose it cos it was the name of someone in a book she happened to be reading at the time.

“Well, come in, come in! I’m your grandmother, as you obviously know. You may call me Gran, or Grandma, whichever you prefer, but I give you due warning, I will not answer to either Nan or Nana.”

Cal pulled a face, like he was a naughty boy that had been told off. Tizz said, “I like Gran.”

“Then Gran it shall be. Come!”

She led the way into a big airy room, all painted white, with oceans of carpet and enormous windows looking on to a garden that seemed to stretch for ever. Cal and me sat in armchairs, with Sammy perched on my lap. Tizz bounced down on to a sofa. The dog leapt up beside her. I waited for the woman –
Gran
– to shout at him to get off, but she seemed to think a dog being on the sofa was quite normal.

“Now,” she said, “before we go any further, let me see if I’ve understood correctly.” She turned to Cal. “You say Deborah’s been missing since Sunday?”

“Right. She went off clubbing Saturday evening and didn’t come back. But she did leave a message on the answerphone.”

“Saying what, exactly?”

“Well…” Cal looked a bit uncertain. I rushed in to help him.

“She said she loved us and we’d all have lemonade sky.”

“You’d have
what
?”

“L-lemonade sky?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s coming back,” said Tizz. “We’ll have lemonade sky
when she gets back.
”

“And in the meantime… ?”

We all looked at one another.

“Where exactly has she gone?”

Cal shook his head. “She didn’t say.”

“So you have absolutely no idea where she is or who she might be with?”

Gran’s eyes bored into each one of us in turn. I shifted, uncomfortably.

“This all happened almost a week ago, and you’re telling me that you haven’t bothered to ring the police?”

“She’ll be back!” insisted Tizz.

Gran ignored this. Rather frostily, looking at Cal, she said, “May I suggest that ringing the police is the very
first
thing you should have done?”

Now she was being unfair. I blurted out that Cal couldn’t have called the police cos he wasn’t there. “It was just us!”

“And if
we’d
rung them,” said Tizz, “they’d have called Social Services and they’d put us in a home.”

“It’s what they do,” I said. “They split you up.”

“Which is precisely the reason you’ve come to me, so that you
won’t
be split up.”

“We didn’t know you were here,” said Tizz. “Not till Cal told us. We never realised we had a gran!”

“You can blame your mother for that. She made it very plain she wanted nothing more to do with me.”

Very quickly, Cal said, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it. She was going through a bad patch at the time.”

“And whose fault was that? If she won’t take her medication—”

“She does usually take it,” I said.

“We try to make sure,” said Tizz. “We do our best to keep an eye on her. It’s just sometimes she pretends she has when she really hasn’t.”

“Either that or she just forgets,” I said. “Or we forget,” I added.

“Your mother is a grown woman,” said Gran. “It shouldn’t be up to you to have to keep an eye on her. It’s time she learnt to be a bit more responsible. She knows perfectly well what happens if she doesn’t take her medicine.”

“But she hates it!” I looked at Gran, pleadingly. I couldn’t bear her being angry with Mum. “She says it makes her feel like she’s living in a fog.”

“Sooner that than running off and leaving three young children to fend for themselves.”

“Ruby’s
twelve
,” said Tizz. “And she’s very good at looking after us.”

Gran said, “That is as maybe. It’s no excuse for bad parenting.”

Was she saying Mum was a bad parent? I sent furious signals to Tizz, expecting her to say something. But Tizz had found a squeaky toy amongst the sofa cushions and was driving the dog into a frenzy as she squeaked it. Why wasn’t she leaping to Mum’s defence?

Rather desperately I said, “It’s not Mum’s fault! It’s the bipolar.”

“Yes, and it’s time she learnt to cope with it,” said Gran. “Causing all this worry and upset! Tirzah, if you want to play with Piper go and do it in the garden. I’m going to call the police.”

Again, I waited for Tizz to protest, but instead she snatched up the squeaky toy and went running off, through the French windows, into the garden. Piper followed her, bouncing and barking. I turned to Cal, hoping that he would say something. He just shrugged a shoulder and gave me this sheepish grin.

“Honestly, Rubes, it’s for the best.”

“Don’t worry.” Gran said it briskly. “Whatever happens, you won’t be put in a home. But we can’t just sit back and do nothing. Without her medication, your mother’s an easy target. She could be prey to any unscrupulous person.”

“You mean—” I wasn’t really sure, but I needed to be clear. What was Gran actually saying? “You mean, people could, like… take advantage of her?”

“Exactly.”

I swallowed. “B-bad people?”

“Not bad, necessarily. They could just be rather stupid and thoughtless.”

Like Nikki. She was stupid and thoughtless. Egging Mum on, even though she knew Mum was bipolar and not always in control. Suddenly, I felt relieved that Gran was going to ring the police. They would know what to do.

That afternoon, two police people called round. A man and a woman. We told them all we could, but it wasn’t very much. We just didn’t know anything! Like when they asked us if we had any idea where Mum usually went clubbing, or if we had a telephone or an address for Nikki. We weren’t even sure of Nikki’s surname. I had this feeling that it might be Adams, but Tizz insisted it began with an M. All we knew for certain was that she’d worked with Mum in Chicken ’n’ Chips.

“Is that useful?” said Tizz.

The policewoman assured us that it was.

“Even though Chicken ’n’ Chips isn’t there any more?”

“We still might be able to find the owner and see if he has an address he can give us. How about any other friends? Does your mum have other friends?”

Doubtfully I said, “She does know other people. They might be on her mobile.”

“Do you have her mobile number?”

We didn’t even have that!

“It’s at home,” I said. “By the side of the phone.”

Why hadn’t we brought it with us?

“Have you tried ringing again, after the first time?”

Tizz put a finger in her mouth. I stared, helplessly.

“I did,” said Cal. “I tried yesterday and again this morning. There’s no response.”

The policewoman said they would get the number and give it another go. She said they would also listen to Mum’s message. I wondered if perhaps they would be able to trace the call and find out where it had come from. The police can do clever things like that. Like finding the owner of Chicken ’n’ Chips. Like finding Nikki. All the things they could have done ages ago if only we hadn’t been too scared to call them!

I said this to Gran, and she actually gave me a bit of a hug – well, a sort of a hug – and told me not to feel bad about it.

“From all accounts, you did a splendid job just keeping things going. Now it’s time to let the police take over.”

Cal said he would go back to the flat and stay there in case Mum turned up. I did so want to go with him! I tried pointing out that we still had another week of school left until the summer break, but Gran said she would sort that out and Tizz added that in any case we couldn’t live in the flat with just Cal to look after us cos of Her Upstairs.

“She’d start nosing about and then she’d discover Mum wasn’t there.”

I didn’t see that it mattered any more; not now we’d told the police. But I had this feeling Tizz didn’t want to go back. She’d already formed a bond with Piper and had asked Gran if we could go to the stables and if she’d be allowed to have a ride.

“
Please,
Gran, can I?
Please
?”

Gran said, “Do you know how to ride?”

Tizz said no, but she bet she could learn. “You could put me on the biggest horse you like, I wouldn’t be scared! Not even if I fell off. I’d just get straight back on again!”

I thought she was being rather pushy, not to say boastful, but Gran obviously approved. She said, “Good for you! We’ll see what we can arrange. Not at the weekend, because that’s our busy time. Maybe Monday afternoon. How about that?”

Tizz went “Yay!” and spent the next ten minutes galloping an imaginary horse up and down the garden, with the faithful Piper at her side. It seemed he had adopted Tizz as a playmate. She was welcome to him, as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want anything to do with dogs, or horses. Horses ’specially make me nervous. They are so big, and their hooves are so hard. I am always frightened they are going to kick out. I certainly wasn’t going to ride one! I was secretly hoping that by Monday we’d hear that Mum had come back and we could all go home. Tizz could stay here if she wanted. Me and Sammy would rather be with Mum.

Saturday evening Cal went back to the flat. He promised to ring us immediately if he heard anything. Like if the police called round and said they’d managed to trace Nikki or the owner of Chicken ’n’ Chips.

“Don’t worry,” he told me. “I’ll be there. Gonna give those feet a good scratch if they start to get itchy!”

“What was all that about?” said Gran, after Cal had left.