Lily Alone Read online

  ‘Run again!’ I gasped.

  We ran for our flats this time. There was nowhere else to go. The woman was much slower now, clutching her chest, her face still purple-red under her rain-cap, the mud still perched on top even after all that running.

  ‘Don’t let her follow us back to our flat!’ I gasped. ‘We have to hide.’

  ‘I know where!’ said Baxter.

  He charged past the first block, ducked round the corner, and into the bin sheds. We pressed ourselves back against the huge metal container, ankle-deep in horrible smelly rubbish, clutching each other. We waited. We heard a dog barking far away in the distance – but nothing more.

  ‘Has she gone?’ Bliss whispered.

  ‘I think so. Better wait a few minutes more though.’

  ‘Didn’t she look funny with that mud on her hat!’ said Baxter, sniggering.

  ‘Shh! It was very, very bad of you, Baxter,’ I whispered, but I started giggling too.

  We all shook with laughter. When we finally emerged and there was no sign of scary rain-cap lady and her dog, we whooped and shouted and high-fived each other.

  ‘Right! Let’s get home,’ I said. ‘We’re all badly in need of a bath.’

  ‘What if Mum’s come back?’ said Bliss. ‘She’ll go bonkers if she sees our clothes.’

  ‘She won’t be back, not yet,’ I said. My voice wobbled. Baxter slid his hand into mine, surprising me.

  ‘We don’t need her back. It’s more fun without her,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Bliss. ‘You’re our mum now, Lily.’

  Pixie hadn’t even been listening, but she said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’

  ‘Shut up, you soppy lot,’ I said, dangerously close to tears.

  Even so, the kids ran into every room when we got back indoors, obviously looking for Mum everywhere. They all drooped when they found the flat was empty.

  ‘Bath-time, bath-time, bath-time!’ I shouted into the silence. ‘You three can all have a bath together and we’ll squirt washing-up liquid in so we’ll have bubbles everywhere. Come on, off with those dirty clothes – and stop running about, you’re getting muddy footprints everywhere.’

  ‘You’re sounding like a real mum now,’ said Baxter.

  I got the bath running and swirled washing-up liquid around liberally. I helped Pixie out of her clothes and then dangled her in the bath, letting her bounce in the bubbles. Baxter and Bliss came running into the bathroom naked, their bodies pink, their faces and arms and legs chocolate brown.

  ‘You get in the bath too, Lily!’ Bliss begged.

  ‘No, there’s no room. I’ll have my own bath in a minute, after I’ve got you lot clean,’ I said.

  I let them play for a bit while I sorted through their clothes. I could wash their T-shirts and jeans easily enough but their jackets were going to be a problem. I tried sponging them with an old rag but it just stirred up the mud and spread the stains around. I left them in a soggy heap, deciding to wait until the morning. At least I could scrub the children clean. I set to while they squirmed and wriggled and shrieked, and soon they were pink all over.

  I hoisted them out of the bath one by one and wrapped them in towels. Baxter and Bliss were old enough to dry themselves but I rubbed them down even so, cosseting them, and I swaddled Pixie, picking her up in my arms, pretending she was my baby. I found them all clean T-shirts and clean pants and then sat them down in front of the television while I went to have my bath in peace.

  I had to scrub out the tub first because the bottom was all silted with mud, but when it was clean at last I ran myself a fresh bath, with lots more bubbles. I lay back with a sigh, up to my chin in bubbles, the blood throbbing in my head. It felt so good to stretch out. My arms and back were aching after lumping Pixie around all that time. I closed my eyes and played the Lily Alone game: I was lying in my beautiful jade-green marble bath strewn with rose petals, sipping a glass of champagne. When I was sufficiently relaxed I’d step out, grab the twenty snow-white towels from the cupboard and dab myself dry. I’d slip on a silky robe and saunter into my white living room. I’d lounge on my vast white velvet sofa and switch on my enormous television, taking up an entire wall. I’d watch a film in total peace, no one wriggling or kicking beside me, no squabbling over the remote, no complaints that the film was too girlie, too scary, too silly. I was Lily Alone and no one could ever disturb me, and if the doorbell rang I simply ignored it . . .

  The doorbell was ringing! I sat up so swiftly the water swooshed over the side of the bath.

  ‘It’s Mum back!’ Baxter yelled, and I heard him running.

  ‘No, no, don’t go to the door, Baxter!’ I shouted, jumping out of the bath and running too.

  Baxter got to the door before me, jumping up and opening the latch, shouting, ‘Mum, Mum, Mum!’

  It wasn’t Mum. I heard a man’s voice. No, it wasn’t Mikey, thank goodness. This was a kind, gentle voice, deep – the sort of voice that could tell you all sorts of stories and you’d never get tired of listening . . . It was Mr Abbott! And oh, my goodness, there I was, stark naked, dripping in the hall! I flew back to the bathroom, slammed the door and leaned against it. I gnawed on my thumbnail, trying to think what to do. I hoped against hope that Baxter would somehow get rid of him, even slam the door in his face – but I heard more talking, then footsteps. Oh my God, Mr Abbott was in our flat now!

  I stood there, shivering, utterly helpless. Then I heard knocking on the door.

  ‘Lily?’ It was Bliss. ‘Lily, it’s your teacher, Mr Abbott, come to see you.’

  ‘Well, I can’t see him. I’m in the bath. Look, tell him I’m ill. Tell him we’re all ill.’

  ‘Yes, Baxter’s telling him a whole load of stuff, but he says he still wants to see you. And Mum.’

  What was I going to do now? I couldn’t let Baxter rabbit on. He’d tell Mr Abbott the whole story if I didn’t shut him up.

  ‘Tell him I’m coming,’ I hissed. I didn’t have time to go and look for clean clothes. I pulled on my damp T-shirt and jeans, still thick with mud, and rushed out.

  Mr Abbott was sitting in the living room with Baxter, Pixie perched on the arm of his chair. She was prattling away to him, saying stuff about a funny lady with a dog, but luckily he didn’t seem to be listening properly. Baxter was strutting around the room in his pants, telling Mr Abbott that he didn’t know where Mum was and he didn’t care because she was bad.

  ‘Baxter!’ I said sharply. ‘Don’t you dare say that about Mum. Of course you know where she is. She’s gone to the chemist’s to get us some more medicine for our bad tummies.’

  ‘Bad, bad, bad,’ Pixie echoed. I didn’t know whether she meant bad tummy or bad mummy. I’m not sure she did either.

  Mr Abbott was staring at me. I felt myself blushing scarlet. What must he think of me looking such a muddy mess?

  ‘Hello, Lily,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry you and your family aren’t well. You’ve been off school three days now. Have you seen a doctor?’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Well, Mum says she’ll take us if we’re not better tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’

  ‘It’s – it’s very catching. I wouldn’t stay too long. You don’t want to go down with it yourself, Mr Abbott,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’ll just stay until your mother gets home,’ he said.

  I felt my throat go dry. I tried to swallow.

  ‘I’ll – I’ll make a cup of tea,’ I said desperately. ‘Baxter, Bliss, stop prancing about in your underwear. Go and put some jeans on, clean ones.’

  ‘You’re all dirty,’ Baxter pointed out unkindly.

  ‘Do as I say, Baxter,’ I said fiercely. ‘And Bliss, you find Pixie her dungarees. Pixie, leave Mr Abbott in peace and go with Bliss.’

  ‘I like mr Abbott,’ said Pixie, patting his cheek.

  ‘I like you too, Pixie,’ said Mr Abbott. He smiled as she hopped across the room. Then he followed me into the kitchen. ‘She