The Illustrated Mum (17 page)

She bent right over, tears spilling down her face.

“Star,” she whispered. “Please, Star. Come home. Don't do this to me. Look, we've got a surprise for you,
Dol and me. What? No, Star, I'm talking to you‘oh,
please …”

She shook her head but then held the phone out to me. Its imprint was marked clearly on her face, a crude new tattoo.

I took the phone from her. Star was crying on the other end.

“Dolly? Are you all right?”

“Yes. No. Oh, Star, please, come home. I can't manage without you.”

“I can't come. Don't make me feel even worse. I'm sorry, Dol, I'm so sorry. Look, I'll phone every day. I'll keep in touch. You'll be OK.
I
had to cope with her right from when I was little, I looked after her
and
you. You said yourself she's better with you. I think I just made it harder for her because I'm Micky's. Look, I won't stay away forever. I'll come back soon, I promise, but I just have to stay now. I
have
to be with him. He's my dad. This is my one chance to be with him. If I come back now she'll never let go of me, you know that. Oh, Dol, I feel so bad, but you do understand, don't you?”

“No, I don't! Star! Come back. You can't leave me!”

“I have to,” said Star, and the phone went dead.

I let it drop out of my sticky hand.

“No! Don't! Give it to me!” Marigold cried, on her hands and knees, grabbing for it.

She started yelling into it, screaming at Star.

“She's hung up. She's not there. Stop it! She's left
us, she's left us forever. I hate her, I hate her, I hope she never comes back,” I shouted.

I clawed the phone away from Marigold and bashed it hard against the wall, again and again.

“You'll break it!” Marigold screamed.

I stopped dead. I shook the phone. I tried to dial a number. It was no use. It was broken.

“We'll get another,” I said quickly. “You can get one on that credit card.”

Marigold shook her head. “She can't ring on any other phone. She won't know the number. And we don't know hers.”

“Oh! Oh, Marigold,” My legs buckled and I slid to the floor.

She reached out. I ducked, thinking she was going to hit me, but she just wiped my tears with her fingers.

“I didn't mean to!” I sobbed.

“I know. It's all right. It's not your fault. Did you know Star was going for good?”

“I'm sorry,” I wept.

“Never mind,” said Marigold. “Never mind, never mind.”

She said it over and over again until the words lost all sense. Then she started drinking. I stayed with her for a while and then sloped off into the bedroom. It still smelt terribly of paint. I couldn't shut the white gloss door because it was still sticky.

I got into bed but I couldn't sleep. I wanted Star so
badly I got into her bed to sniff the faint talcumy smell of her still on her pillow. But it made me angry too. I punched the pillow, harder and harder. Then I missed and punched the wall instead. It hurt so much that I huddled into a ball, tucking my fist into my armpit.

I was acting like the crazy person now, smashing everything. Maybe I was going to go mad like Marigold. We'd both end up in the loony bin. While Star had her shiny new life with her father.

I couldn't wake Marigold in the morning. She'd managed to get herself to bed but the vodka bottle was empty. I stood shivering, staring at her. She was breathing heavily, her eyes open a fraction. I shook her hard. She mumbled a bit but she didn't make sense.

I got myself ready for school, creeping round the flat. I backed away from the broken phone on the floor as if it could bite me. I grabbed a handful of the stale party snacks left out all night and then went out the door. I tiptoed down the stairs but Mrs. Luft was out like a flash.

“You! That row last night! Screaming, shouting, bang bang banging. I'm going to get you all evicted, you see if I don't. Where's your sister?”

“It's none of your business,” I said, and I ran out of the house.

It was so odd walking down the road without Star. It felt as if a part of
me
was missing. When I turned the
corner there was Ronnie Churley right in front of me. I stopped dead, but he was with his mum, not his mates. All he could do was stick his tongue out at me when she wasn't watching. He looked a bit embarrassed, Mr. Tough Guy discovered trotting along with Mummy.

I stuck my tongue out back at him and then skipped past, singing out, “Mummy's little diddums.”

He'd get me for it later, but it was worth it. I was on my own. It was cool to walk alone to school.

Ronnie Churley's mum looked horrible too, a frowny lady with those funny trousers with little straps that go under the foot to stop them wrinkling. She needed a strap under her chin and all to straighten out her face wrinkles.

I didn't think much of any of their mums. Not even Tasha's. Marigold was much younger and much prettier. Oliver thought so too.

He was already in the playground, leaning against the railings right at the front. He often hung about there because it was so public it was hard for anyone to pick on him.

“Hi, Dolphin!” He waved at me frantically. He was so short-sighted he always thought no one else could see a foot in front of their face.

“Hi,” I said, climbing up over the railing and swinging down the other side instead of bothering to go all the way round to the front entrance. The hem of
my witch skirt caught. I unhooked it, seeing tiny toads and black cats and bats fluttering free.

A flock of bats whirled round my head so that I could barely see.

“Dolphin? What is it? Have you hurt yourself?” said Oliver.

“It's not me. It's my mum,” I said, and I started crying.

“Don't!” said Oliver. “Oh, Dolphin, don't, please. Don't cry.”

He put his skinny arm awkwardly round my neck. There was a shriek from the other side of the railings.

“Look at Bottle Nose and Owly! They're practically snogging. Yuck!”

“Quick. Come round the back of the playground toilets,” said Oliver urgently.

There was a narrow gap between the girls' building and the boys'. Oliver edged into the middle and pulled me after him. I stood bolt upright beside him, tears still trickling down my face.

“Haven't you got a paper hankie?” said Oliver.

“No, I haven't,” I said, scrubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand. I gave a big sniff. “Stop staring at me.”

“It's all right. I cry too. I cried this weekend because my mum cried when Dad brought me back.”

“Well, I haven't got a dad. Star has. And she's gone
off with him and now I've broken the phone and we can't get in touch and Marigold … She's drinking. She wouldn't even wake up this morning. You don't know what it can be like. Star always did stuff, cleaned her up and looked after her when she was really bad. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to do anything without Star. She's not just like my sister. She's like my mum too. And my best friend. And now she's walked out on me and I haven't got anyone.”

I started sobbing again.

“You've got me,” said Oliver.

We could hear the bell ringing in the playground.

“We'd better go,” I said. “We can't really hole up here all day long.”

“I mean it, Dolphin. I can be your best friend. I'd like that,” said Oliver, and he twisted his head round and kissed my cheek, even though it was all teary and disgusting.

Then he edged out quick. It took me several seconds to squeeze out after him, but he was still bright red, with his glasses all steamed up. He looked incredibly silly but I managed to give him a wobbly smile.

“OK, best friend. Lessons. And then let's make up our own comic strip in the library at lunch.”

“Oh wow, yes, let's.”

“And‘and maybe Star will be back by tonight.”

“Yes, I bet she'll come back right away,” said Oliver.

I counted in sevens and made endless wishes and bargains and made up witchy spells all day long. As I ran home I touched each lamppost and whispered “Star” seven times over for every one so that she would be waiting for me in our new blue and white bedroom.

She wasn't waiting. Marigold was lying on her bed, still in her nightdress. She didn't get up all afternoon and evening, apart from stumbling to the toilet like a zombie.

“Why don't you clean your teeth and have a wash?” I suggested.

“Teeth? Wash?” Marigold repeated, as if I were speaking a foreign language. “What's the point?”

“Well. It'll make you feel better.”

She took no notice and got another bottle from the cupboard.

“Don't drink. Eat,” I said, and I made us both some tea.

Marigold said she didn't want any. I tried to prop her up against her pillow and help her sip a cup of tea but half of it dribbled down her chin.

“Please try, Marigold,” I begged.

“I don't want to try,” she said. “Just let me be.” She slid back down under her duvet.

I watched over her for a while. She seemed to be asleep. I wasn't sure if she was drunk or not. I fidgeted around her, staring at her closed eyes and tousled hair and Technicolor skin.

I vaguely heard a faint ringing from downstairs. And then a minute later there was a banging at the door.

“You in there! Come and answer this door.”

It was Mrs. Luft. I decided to take no notice but she went on banging.

“Oh God, my head,” Marigold groaned, going further under the duvet. “Get rid of the old bag, Dol.”

“I don't like her. She's horrid to me.
You
go,” I said.

I had as much chance of the duvet rising upward and slithering to the door to deal with Mrs. Luft. I had to go myself.

“For goodness' sake, about time!” Mrs. Luft shouted when I opened our door an inch. “What's going
on
in there?”

“Nothing, nothing,” I said. I opened the door properly, stepped outside and pulled it to behind me. I couldn't have her barging in and seeing Marigold in a stupor.

“This is a one-off. I want to make that crystal clear. It's a total liberty. I've got better things to do than climb up all these stairs. You don't even answer the door straightaway like normal folk. Anyway, it's tying up my phone. Someone might be wanting to speak to
me
.”

I suddenly understood.

“My sister! She's phoned you!” I started flying down the stairs.

“Hey, hey! Wait for me. Don't you dare go in my flat by yourself, young lady! The cheek of it!”

I had to hover until she got there herself and then trail after her into her darkly polished domain. She made me wipe my feet on her doormat. She'd probably douse the telephone with disinfectant the minute I'd stopped using it.

“Star?”

“Oh, Dol. Oh, Dol. Oh, Dol.” Star was crying. “What's happened? What's the matter with the mobile phone? I was so worried when I couldn't get through. And then I suddenly thought of Mrs. Luft. What's Marigold done? Has she smashed the phone? She hasn't done anything to you, has she?”

I thought quickly, my eyes swiveling round Mrs. Luft's horrible brown living room. She had a mottled browny-pink lamp and a matching vase that looked like liver sausage. I put out my hand to touch the vase to see if it felt like liver sausage too. Mrs. Luft flicked my fingers away, outraged.

“Dol! Tell me. What's
happened
?”

“It's been so awful,” I said. I turned my back on Mrs. Luft and started whispering. “She's been so drunk.”

“Well. She often is,” said Star.

“No. Worse. So violent. She broke the phone. She … she hit me and hit me. I'm bleeding. I think she's broken something,” I whispered. “And now … now she's drunk an entire bottle, no, two, and she's in a coma and … and she might even be
dead
.”

“Oh, Dol! It's all right. I'll come and’

But a whirlwind in a nightdress barged uninvited into Mrs. Luft's flat and snatched the telephone before I could stop her.

“Star? Oh, Star, sweetie, how brilliant of you to phone Mrs. Luft,” said Marigold, without so much as a slur to her voice.

“It was dreadful cheek and it's certainly not going to happen ever again!” said Mrs. Luft. “Now get off that phone!”

“In a minute,” Marigold muttered, obviously trying to concentrate on what Star was saying. “I did
what
, Star, sweetie? No, it was Dolly, but it was an accident. We'll get another phone. But why don't you and Micky stop playing silly games and give me
his
phone number? No, of course I'm not drunk, darling. Do I sound drunk?
What?
OK, speak to Dol again, but we've got to talk too.”

“Not on
my
phone you don't!” said Mrs. Luft indignantly. “Just say your goodbyes. I can't believe you can be so rude.”

Marigold pressed the phone into my palm. I didn't hold it too close to my ear. Star's words shot out like bullets.

“Dol? How
could
you lie like that? She's not in a coma, she's not even drunk. I was so
scared
! How could you say it?”

“She did, she did,” I mumbled, though Marigold was standing right in front of me, staring into my face.

“You were just lying to get me to come home. So it was
you
who broke the phone?”

“No. Yes. Look, Star, please, please come back now’

“Why should I? It's not
fair
. I want to do what
I
want just this once. Now listen. We'll send you another phone, right? But don't you dare ever tell lies like that again.”

“Star—’ “No. I'm putting the phone down now.”
“Please!”

I heard a click and then the purr of the freed line.

“Let me talk now,” said Marigold.

“No, this has gone too far. Put my phone down at once,” said Mrs. Luft.

Marigold snatched the phone from me and then heard the dialing tone herself.

“Put it
down
!” Mrs. Luft commanded.

Marigold did as she was told, her hand trembling so that she could barely slot the receiver back into its socket.

“Thank you very much,” said Mrs. Luft sarcastically. “Now if it's not too much trouble could you both go back upstairs to your own place? And don't you
dare
use my flat as your personal telephone box. Get your own phone reconnected and stop wasting all your money on your disgusting habits. Look at you, wandering
round in your skimpy nightie, showing off all your lurid tattoos. What sort of example are you to your little girls? No wonder one seems to have scarpered. Who would want a mother like you?”