Mimi (10 page)

On the way to school, Aunt M. told us to write down the names — and telephone numbers and addresses if we knew them — of all Sally’s friends. Of course Conor didn’t know any of their names and I only knew a few. Sally had hung around with new friends since Mammy died, and they didn’t really talk much whenever I met them. They just stood and looked bored and chewed gum, and sometimes they smoked.

“They all wear black,” said Conor. “They’re Goths or something like that. What’s the one with the stud in her tongue called, Mimi?”

I knew that one because she was Sarah’s sister. She looked frightening but she was nicer than her bully sister. “Her name is Tara Sinclair. I know her sister. She lives at fifty-six Bayside Close. But that’s the only one I know,” I told Aunt M., but she said that was fine. Tara would know the names of the other friends.

“We should stay at home and help look for Sally,” said Conor.

“We’ll let you know if there’s any news,” replied Aunt M., not really answering him. “There’s no point in everyone getting their knickers in a twist,” she said with a grin, and squeezed Conor’s knee.

That was just like Aunt M. If you were on a sinking ship, like the
Titanic,
she would say something to make you smile and take your mind off things. “A lot worse things than Sally going missing for a few hours have happened on
Southsiders,
haven’t they, Mimi?”

I knew she was just trying to cheer me up — and it did make me feel better when she said things like that.

She dropped off Conor first. I was late again, so Aunt M. came into the school with me and talked outside the door with Ms. Hardy for about ten minutes. When she came in, Ms. Hardy just smiled at me and said nothing — but I could see Sarah making her narrow eyes, and I knew that there would be trouble at recess.

However, at recess Ms. Hardy asked me to stay back. When everyone had gone out, she called me up to her desk.

I thought I was in for it. “I meant to get my homework done, Ms. Hardy,” I blurted out in a rush. “I was in the middle of math when Mrs. Lemon rang the doorbell —”

“Shh!” said Ms. Hardy in a kind voice. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about, Mimi.”

“Oh,” I said, but I could feel this stupid lump in my throat, and I knew if I said anything at all I would just start crying.

“Cry if you feel like it,” said Ms. Hardy in such a gentle voice that the next thing I knew I was hugging her and crying and crying, and she was rocking me gently to and fro and whispering, “Shh! There now, there now.”

In the end I stopped crying. My face felt all wet and snotty. Ms. Hardy handed me a tissue and I blew my nose like a foghorn.

“Mimi,” said Ms. Hardy, in her normal voice, “don’t worry about your homework until your sister shows up. You know, she’s probably at home right now having a cup of tea,” she finished with a smile. “Now, run along before you miss all of your break.” And she shooed me out of the room.

Ms. Hardy was wrong. Sally was not at home when I got back after school. Grandad and Granny were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea.

“Well, if it isn’t young Mimi herself,” declared Grandad when I walked in, but I could hear in his voice that he was only trying to be cheerful.

“Now, Mimi,” said Granny in her bossy voice, “I want you to sit down and drink this lovely hot soup I’ve made!”

So I drank my soup. Granny and Grandad just sat and watched me. It isn’t easy to drink soup when you are being watched. When I slurped it seemed very loud, and soup kept dribbling down my chin. Granny handed me a napkin. I just wished they would behave normally and fuss about. The silence seemed to stretch on and on like an elastic band until I was sure that it would snap. I could even hear a door closing next door. It was weird.

“How was school?” asked Grandad in the end.

“OK,” I answered, and then it was silent again.

So I was really glad when my phone beeped. Granny and Grandad jumped.

“Is that Sally?” said Granny before I could even get the phone out of my pocket.

But it wasn’t. It was Orla.
I heard bt Sal. B der in an hr.

“Read it out,” said Granny.

“Only if you want to,” added Grandad.

Well, I didn’t mind. “It’s from Orla. She’s heard about Sally and she’s coming over in an hour. I don’t know why.”

“Oh, is that all,” said Granny, sounding disappointed.

“It’s nice of her,” said Grandad. “You know who your friends are when you have troubles.” He squeezed my shoulder.

Then the key turned in the front door and we all jumped up. It was Dad and Aunt B. and Aunt M. They didn’t look very cheerful.

Dad slumped onto a chair. “Hi, Mimi,” he said, and held out his hand to me. I went over to him and he curled his arm around me and gave me a little hug, and I can’t explain why but that made me feel like crying again. But I didn’t this time. Aunt M. was talking.

“So I spoke to Tara Sinclair, Sally’s friend, and she gave me the names of some of her other friends, and I’ve spoken to them too and Sally hasn’t been in touch with any of them. They had no idea where she might be, but I gave them my number and if they hear anything they’ll be in touch straightaway. It seems she has turned off her phone, or maybe the battery is dead. Is it time we called the police?”

I could feel Dad stiffening when she said that.

“I think we should, Paul,” said Aunt B.

I remember when the policeman came to our house after Mammy had been run over. He had his cap in his hand and he looked really uncomfortable. I didn’t know why he was there. I thought maybe Conor had done something wrong, but Dad just went white and stood back to let the policeman come in. Then he said he had some very bad news about Poppy, and Dad just sort of fell into the armchair and covered his face with his hands and cried, “No, no.” Then the policeman put his hand on Dad’s shoulder and said that there had been an accident — and that was the worst day of my life.

“I don’t want you to tell the policeman,” I whimpered.

“I think we have to,” said Dad.

“Just wait,” I cried. And I pulled out of his arm and ran out of the room and up the stairs and into Sally’s room.

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. I knew my sister, and I knew what she would do! So I pulled up her mattress, and without taking one bit of care I pulled out her diary. Then I sat on the floor and flicked through it to the last page of writing, and I was right.

“How did she guess?” I asked the diary out loud, but of course I got no answer.

“No, I don’t!” I told the diary.

“It’s not as bad as stealing!” I said crossly, because I did feel bad about it but I wasn’t going to admit it to Sally. Not that she could hear me.

“I’m her
only
sister in the whole wide world,” I told the diary — but I did like reading it.

The page was all wet and smudged. Sally must have been blubbering away when she wrote that.

Everybody turned and looked at me when I walked back into the kitchen. They were all standing or sitting just where they had been when I had run out. It was as if they had all been frozen in time, and now when I walked back in they all started again and Aunt M. asked me if I was all right now.

“Sally is OK,” I blurted out. “She says don’t call the police.”

Everyone looked startled for a moment, and then they all started asking questions.

“Were you talking to her?” asked Dad very quickly.

“Where is she?” said Granny.

“How do you know this?” Aunt B. wanted to know.

“Give the child a chance!” said Grandad to them all.

I took a big breath. I didn’t really want to say how I knew, so I said, “She wrote me a note and said that she is OK and don’t call the police.”

I thought that would stop the questions — but it only made things worse!

“What note?”

“When did you get this?”

“What exactly did the note say?”

“Did she say she was coming back?”

Grandad had to come to my rescue again. “Stop, the lot of you,” he said. It was funny to hear Grandad being the bossy one for a change. “Mimi will tell us everything she knows if you give her half a chance.”

And that did shut them up. Then Dad asked me gently, “Can you show us the note, Mimi?”

That was the one thing I really did not want to do. “No,” I said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” snapped Granny. “Her sister has run away from home and we are all worried sick and she won’t show us the damn note!”

Granny sounded so cross. She was talking about me as if I weren’t there, and I didn’t like it one bit. I could feel a lump in my throat.

Then Dad pulled me toward him and sat me on his knee. “Shush,” he said to Granny. Granny didn’t like that, I could tell. She pursed her lips and looked as though she was about to explode. Then he said to me, “Now, lovey, why can’t you show us the note? Did Sally ask you not to?”

“I read it in her diary,” I said in a low voice, and I had to look at my shoes. It was my turn to feel ashamed now.

Aunt M. crouched down beside me and took my hand. I couldn’t look at her, but there was a smile in her voice when she spoke. “Well, isn’t that funny, Sally writing a diary — because the only other person I know who did that was your mother, Poppy. And I know that, Mimi, because I used to secretly read it!”

I could hardly believe it. Aunt M. used to read my mammy’s diary. Just like me and Sally.

“Someday I’ll tell you what she used to write in it,” continued Aunt M.

“Look, I’m sorry for being impatient with you,” interrupted Granny, “but I should think, in the circumstances, that you could show us the diary.”

“No,” said Dad, and Granny threw her eyes to heaven. “I don’t think Sally would like Mimi to do that.”

“Will you have some sense, for God’s sake!” Granny was shouting now. “I’ve already lost a daughter — I don’t want to lose a granddaughter!”

And the next thing Granny was crying in our kitchen and Grandad had his arms around her and was whispering and tut-tutting, “Sally is going to be all right, you’ll see. She’ll be home soon.” He handed her a tissue. Daddy said to me, “Mimi, could you just write down the bit that Sally wrote about being all right. Then we won’t be prying.”