The Illustrated Mum

Marigold started going weird again on her birthday. Star remembered that birthdays were often bad times so we'd tried really hard. Star made her a beautiful big card cut into the shape of a marigold. She used up all the ink in the orange felt-tip coloring it in. Then she did two sparkly silver threes with her special glitter pen and added “Happy Birthday” in her best italic writing. They do calligraphy in Year Eight and she's very good at it.

I'm still in elementary school and I'm useless at any kind of writing so I just drew on my card. As it was Marigold's thirty-third birthday I decided I'd draw her thirty-three most favorite things. I drew Micky (I'd never seen him but Marigold had described him enough times) and Star and me. Then I drew the
Rainbow Tattoo Studio and the Victoria Arms and the Nightbirds club. I did them in the middle all clumped together and then round the edges I drew London and the seaside and the stars at night. My piece of paper was getting seriously crowded by this time but I managed to cram in a CD player with lots of Emerald City CDs and some high heels and a bikini and jeans and different-colored tight tops and lots of rings and bangles and earrings.

I was getting a bit stuck for ideas by this time and I'd rubbed out so often that the page was getting furry so I gave up and colored it in. I wanted to do a pattern of marigolds as a border but Star had used up the orange already, so I turned the marigolds into roses and colored them crimson. Red roses signify love. Marigold was very into symbols so I hoped she'd understand.

We gave her presents too. Star found a remixed version of Emerald City's greatest hits for only $2 at the Saturday morning market. I bought her a sparkly hair clasp, green to match her eyes. We even bought a special sheet of green tissue paper and a green satin ribbon to wrap up the presents.

“Do you think she'll like them?” I asked Star.

“You bet,” said Star. She took the hair clasp and opened it up so its plastic claws looked like teeth. “I am a
great
present,” she made it say, and then it bit the tip of my nose.

Marigold gave us both big hugs and said we were darlings but her great green eyes filled with tears.

“So why are you crying?” I said.

“She's crying because she's happy,” said Star. “Aren't you, Marigold?”

“Mm,” said Marigold. She sniffed hard and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was shaking but she managed a smile. “There. I've stopped crying now, Dol, OK?”

It wasn't OK. She cried on and off all day. She cried when she listened to the Emerald City CD because she said it reminded her of old times. She cried when I combed her hair out specially and twisted it up into a chic plait with her new green clasp.

“God, look at my neck! It's getting all wrinkly,” she said. She touched the taut white skin worriedly while we did our best to reassure her. “I look so
old
.”

“You're not old at all. You're young,” said Star.

“Thirty-three,” Marigold said gloomily. “I wish you hadn't written that right slap bang in the middle of your card, darling. I can't believe thirty-three. That was the age Jesus was when he died, did you know that?”

Marigold knew lots about the Bible because she was once in a church home.

“Thirty-three,” she kept murmuring. “He tried so hard too. He liked kids, he liked bad women, he stuck up for all the alternative people. He'd have been so
cool. And what did they do? They stuck him up on a cross and tortured him to death.”

“Marigold,” Star said sharply. “Look at Dol's card.”

“Oh yes, darling, it's lovely,” Marigold said. She blinked at it. “What's it meant to be?”

“Oh, it's stupid. It's all a mess,” I said.

“It's all the things you like most,” said Star.

“That's beautiful,” said Marigold, looking and looking at it. Then she started crying again.

“Marigold!”

“I'm sorry. It's just it makes me feel so awful. Look at the pub and the high heels and the sexy tops. These aren't mumsie things. Dol should have drawn … I don't know, a kitten and a pretty frock and … and Marks & Spencer. That's what mums like.”

“It's not what you like and you're my mum,” I said.

“Dol spent ages making you that card,” said Star. She was starting to get red in the face.

“I know, I know. It's lovely. I
said
.
I'm
the hopeless case. Don't you get what I'm saying?” Marigold sniffed again.

“Anyway, let's have breakfast. Hey, can I have my cake now? Birthday cake for breakfast! Great idea, eh, girls?”

We stared at her.

“We didn't get you a cake,” said Star. “You
know
we didn't. We asked and you said a cake was the very last thing you wanted, remember?”

“No,” said Marigold, looking blank.

She'd gone on and on that we mustn't get her a cake because she was sure she was starting to put on weight and the icing would only give her toothache and anyway she didn't even
like
birthday cake.

“I love birthday cake,” said Marigold. “I always have a special birthday cake. You know how much it means to me because I never had my own special birthday cake when I was a kid. Or a proper party. I hate it that you girls don't want proper parties and you just go to stupid places like Laser Quest and McDonald's.”

“They're not stupid,” I said. Star got asked to lots of stuff but I'd never been to a McDonald's party and no one had ever asked me to a Laser Quest either. I hoped I'd maybe make lots of friends when I went to the high school. I wasn't in with the party crowd in my class. Not that I wanted to go to any of their parties. I wouldn't have been friends with any of that lot if you'd paid me. Except maybe Tasha.

“OK, OK, I'll go and get you a birthday cake,” said Star. “Marks and Sparks opens early on a Saturday. You wait.”

She took the housekeeping purse and rushed out, slamming the door.

“She's cross with me,” said Marigold.

“No, she's not. She's going to get you your cake,” I said.

“Cross cross cross,” Marigold muttered, frowning.
“That's what they used to say in the home. “I'm very cross with you, Marigold.' This old bat would bring her face right up close to me so that her eyes got so near they crossed too. “Cross cross cross,' she'd say, and her spit would spray on my face. She was so mean, that one. She never hit us, she knew she wasn't allowed, but you could tell she really, really wanted to. She just
said
stuff. Cross cross cross.”

“Marigold.” I didn't know what else to say. I always got a bit scared when she talked like that, muttering fast, playing around with words. I wished Star would hurry back.

“Just words. Cross words!”

I giggled in case Marigold meant it to be a joke. She looked startled.

“We have crosswords at school,” I said quickly. “I can't do them. I'm hopeless at spelling and stuff like that.”

“Me too,” said Marigold. “I hated school. I was always in trouble.”

“Yep. Same here,” I said, hoping that Marigold was better now. I was starving hungry. I took a handful of dry cornflakes to keep me going. Marigold helped herself too.

“Yet Star's clever,” I said. “And she's got even cleverer since she went to the high school. A real old brainy-box.”

“Well. She obviously takes after her father,” said
Marigold. “Micky was the cleverest guy I ever met. So creative and artistic and yet sharp too. You couldn't ever fool him.”

“I wish he was my dad too,” I said.

Marigold patted me sympathetically.

“Never mind. I've got you for my mum.” I said it to make her happy but it started her off crying again.

“What kind of a useless stupid mum am I?” she said.

“You're the best ever mum. Please don't cry again. You'll make your eyes go all red.”

“Red eyes, ropey neck, maudlin mood. What a mess! What have I got to show for my thirty-three years, eh? Apart from you two lovely girls. What would Micky make of me if he came back now? He always said I had such potential and yet I haven't done anything.”

“You do lots and lots of things. You paint and you make beautiful clothes and you dance and you work at the studio and‘and’

“If I don't do something with my life soon I never will. I'm getting old so quickly. If only Micky would come back. I was a different person when I was with him. He made me feel so …” She waved her thin arms in the air, her bangles jangling. “Can't find the words. Come here, Dol.”

She pulled me close for a cuddle. I nestled against her, breathing in her magical musky smell. Her silky
red hair tickled me. I stroked it, letting it fan out through my fingers.

“Your roots need doing soon. And you've got a few split ends. I'll snip them off for you, if you like.”

“You still going to be a hairdresser, Dol?

” “You bet,” I said, turning my fingers into scissors and pretending to chop.

“I remember when you cut all the hair off your Barbie doll,” said Marigold.

“And Star's too. She was so mad at me.”

“You girls. I wish I'd had a sister.”

“Well. You're like our big sister.”

“I feel like I'm at a crossroads in my life, Dol. Cross. Hey, you know what? How about if I got a cross for a tattoo?”

“You haven't got much space left,” I said, rubbing her decorated arms.

Marigold was examining herself, peering this way and that.

“How about right here, across my elbow? Brilliant! The cross could go up and down my arm. I need a bit of paper.” She used the back of my birthday card but I didn't really mind. She sketched rapidly, her teeth nip-ping her lower lip as she concentrated. I peered over her shoulder.

“You're so good at drawing,” I said wistfully.

Her hand was still shaking but the pen line was
smooth and flowing as she drew an elegant long Celtic cross with roses and ivy twining round it.

“Roses,” she said, looking up at me. “Like the ones on your card, Dol.”

I felt immensely proud. But also worried. I knew what Star was going to say.

“It's a lovely picture,” I said. “Couldn't you just keep it a picture on paper? We could get a special frame for it and you could hang it over your bed.”

“I want it to be a picture on
me
,” said Marigold, her eyes glittering green. “I wonder if Steve's got any early appointments? I can't wait! I'll get him to trace it and do it now. Special birthday present.” She leapt up. “Come on!”