The Illustrated Mum Read online

  ‘We’re going to Brighton for the weekend,’ Marigold said. ‘Micky told me on the phone.’

  ‘It’s just Dol and me,’ said Star. Her voice wobbled even though her face was firm.

  ‘And me,’ said Marigold. ‘Whew! I don’t know what’s up with me. Some tummy bug. Hope you girls don’t get it. Right! I’d better get my act together and get packing.’

  ‘There are just two tickets, Marigold. One for Dol and one for me,’ said Star.

  ‘Oh,’ said Marigold, taking the envelope and peering inside, then tearing it right open. ‘Well, it can’t be helped. I don’t mind forking out for my own ticket.’

  ‘Marigold. It’s just Dol and me that are invited. I thought Micky explained.’

  ‘Explained what?’ I said.

  ‘We’re staying with him.’

  ‘Well, I can stay with him too,’ said Marigold.

  Star sighed. She clenched her fists. She swallowed.

  ‘His girlfriend will be there.’

  ‘His girlfriend?’ I said, twitching.

  ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ said Marigold, running her fingers through her hair, trying to twist it into place.

  ‘He’s got this other girlfriend who lives with him, Marigold. Siân.’

  ‘Sian?’ said Marigold, as if it was some disgusting swear word.

  ‘He said he told you all about her.’

  ‘Yes, he did mention some girl. But he’s the only guy I’ve ever truly loved, so I don’t care if he’s had a few girls since. He wouldn’t be human if he hadn’t. But I’m the one he went looking for. I’m the mother of his child. Of course I’ve got to come too. I’ve got to, haven’t I, to see you’re both all right.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, Marigold,’ said Star. ‘Dol and I had better get going. Micky said we should try and get the ten o’clock train.’

  ‘Please. Wait for me. Let me come too,’ Marigold said, rushing into her bedroom, putting her best beaded cardigan on over her old petticoat but buttoning it up all wrong so that it hung lop-sidedly.

  ‘Why can’t she come too?’ I hissed to Star.

  ‘There’s nowhere for her to stay. Micky said.’

  ‘Micky said, Micky said. I’m getting a bit sick of your Micky,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t own the railways. He doesn’t own the whole of Brighton.’

  ‘He does own his own flat. It’s very tiny. He’s bought these two camp beds for us and we’ll be sleeping in his living room and he and Sian have the bedroom. There isn’t room for Marigold.’

  ‘I could sleep on his sofa. Or this Sian could. Look, if I’m going she doesn’t need to be there, acting like a nanny or whatever.’

  ‘She lives there most of the time. She and Micky have been together for more than two years.’

  ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ said Marigold, sticking her bare feet in her high heels and trying to pull her cardigan straight.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, Marigold. You only knew him a few weeks. He told me.’

  ‘He stayed here last Saturday night!’

  ‘Because he wanted to see me!’ Star shouted. ‘And he wants to see me this weekend too and I’m not going to let you muck it all up. You’re not coming.’

  ‘I’m not coming either,’ I said.

  They both blinked.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ I repeated.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Dol. Of course you’re coming.’

  ‘Micky doesn’t want to see me. And I don’t want to see him either. I think he’s horrible. And I think you’re horrible too, Star. Marigold and me will stay home. You go off to Brighton with your precious Micky. See if we care.’

  ‘Right,’ said Star. ‘Right.’

  She picked up her bag and walked out of the room. We heard our door slam, footsteps hurrying downstairs, and then the ‘thunk’ of the front door closing.

  It was very quiet in our flat. Marigold stood half dressed, shivering, still tugging at her cardigan.

  ‘Dol?’ she said, tears brimming.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘Look, you’ve buttoned yourself all skew-whiff. Come here.’

  I did her buttons up properly. She still looked dazed, tears dripping down her face.

  ‘We’ll have a lovely time just you and me,’ I said. I hugged her tight, so that all the little beads in her cardigan dug in hard against my skin.

  I couldn’t help hoping that Star would suddenly come rushing back. She’d say Marigold could come too. She’d insist I go with her. She’d stay at home with us.

  She didn’t do any of these things.

  Marigold and I were left on our own. I wanted her to be pleased with me that I hadn’t gone with Star. But she started to get things twisted in her head, acting like it was my fault she wasn’t invited to Brighton.

  I argued with her and she got really angry and started yelling, screaming like she’d never stop, her eyes little green slits, her mouth a great red cavern, spittle running down her chin. She kept waving her arms in the air and I was scared she was going to hit me even though she’d never smacked me in my life. I tried talking back to her but she was making so much noise she didn’t hear me.

  There was a big thumping at our door. Marigold took no notice of that either, so I didn’t answer it. I knew who it would be.

  Mrs Luft started hissing through the letterbox.

  ‘If you don’t stop that crazy noise I’ll call the police and they’ll get you carted off to the loony bin where you belong!’

  Marigold heard that. She sprang to the door and flung it open. Mrs Luft staggered backwards, almost falling over. Marigold’s arms were still flailing.

  ‘Don’t, Marigold!’ I screamed.

  Marigold got stuck in space, arms up, on the tip of her toes, mouth stretched in a shriek.

  ‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘Don’t!’

  Marigold looked at me as if she could see me properly at last. She dropped her arms and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

  Mrs Luft backed away, still in a crouched position.

  ‘She’s crazy! A real crazy woman, acting totally demented. And her with two dependent kiddies!’ she muttered.

  ‘We’re fine,’ I said. ‘My mum was just mad at me because I did something ever so naughty. She shouted at me. So what? And we’re not just dependent on Marigold anyway, we’ve got a father, haven’t we, Marigold? Star’s with him now and if he thinks you’ve been saying wicked things about my mum like she’s mad then he’ll sue you for slander, just you wait and see, you mean old rat bag.’

  Mrs Luft straightened up.

  ‘I’m not indulging in a common brawl. You belong in the gutter, all of you. Now keep your voice down or I really will call the police.’

  I shut the door on her. I felt the blood zipping round my body like I’d been running a race. I wanted Marigold to clap me on the back and congratulate me but she seemed out of it again. She rolled up her sleeve and started fingering her new cross tattoo, scraping along its lines with her nails.

  ‘Don’t! You’ll get it infected, picking at it like that.’

  I got her antiseptic cream and she rubbed it in slowly. It seemed to soothe her. She got washed and properly dressed. I did her hair for her. I combed it up into a chic pleat and anchored it with my green clasp.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ I said, and I sprayed her hair thoroughly to keep every single tendril in place.

  Marigold’s third eye stared back at me, unblinking. She’d had another big green eye tattooed at the back of her neck. It was usually hidden by her sweep of hair. It was a bit startling seeing it looking at me like that. When I was in Year One at my first primary school – I can’t even remember its name I went to so many different schools – but anyway this teacher used to cluck at us if we were naughty and say she needed eyes in the back of her head to see what we were all up to. I told her my mum had an eye at the back of her neck, a big green one, and she said, ‘Yes, dear,’ like she didn’t believe a word of it.

  I put my finger out and touched the green skin. The eye