The Illustrated Mum Read online

  ‘Do I look gross?’ Oliver asked, sounding enormously pleased.

  He nearly cried when it was time for him to go home and we had to scrub his tattoos away.

  ‘No, please, I want to keep them!’ he begged, though he admitted his mum would be shocked.

  ‘Then she might not let you come round to my place again, Oliver,’ I said.

  ‘OK then. Because I so want to come again. This has been my best day ever.’

  Star and I walked him home. He burbled happily until he got near his house. His mother was watching for him behind the curtains. His house looked alarmingly tidy. Even the flowers in the garden looked like soldiers on parade. It was my turn to go to tea with Oliver now but I wasn’t at all sure it was going to be enjoyable.

  When Star and I got back home we caught Marigold having a drink, and she kept going out to the kitchen for another sly swig, though she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  ‘Little Owly really enjoyed himself,’ she said.

  ‘Oliver. But yes, he did,’ I said. ‘Thanks for being so nice to him, Marigold. He thinks you’re wonderful.’

  ‘Does he?’ said Marigold, looking to see if Star was listening. She stretched out on the sofa, pretending to be relaxed. ‘Saturday tomorrow,’ she said. She paused. Star didn’t react. She was staring into space.

  ‘What are your plans, Star, sweetheart?’ Marigold asked.

  Star smoothed back her hair, licked her lips, pressed her knees together.

  ‘I’m going to Brighton.’

  ‘I thought so,’ said Marigold. ‘You’ve been in touch with Micky, then?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Great,’ said Marigold. ‘That’s just great.’

  She heaved herself off the sofa and went to the kitchen. We heard the clank of the bottle on the rim of her glass. Then she came back, the glass brimming.

  ‘Marigold. Don’t!’ I said huskily.

  ‘What? It’s water, darling,’ said Marigold, taking several gulps. ‘So, Star. It looks as if it’s going to be a lovely sunny day. Dolly and I might very well come too. To Brighton.’ She drank again.

  ‘Don’t,’ Star said. Gently.

  ‘We’ll go with you, darling. The three of us. And we’ll meet up with Micky.’

  ‘No,’ said Star.

  ‘Yes,’ said Marigold. ‘We’re coming too and you can’t stop us.’

  Star didn’t even bother to reply. She just looked at Marigold in a pitying way.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Marigold. ‘I don’t know why you’re always looking down on me. I’ve tried so hard, I’ve done my best, I want to be a good mother—’

  ‘You are a good mother. You’re the best in the world,’ I said, going to her and taking her glass away so that I could give her a hug.

  ‘S-Star?’ said Marigold, her voice slurring.

  Star came slowly over to the sofa. She sat down beside Marigold and put her arm round her. She cuddled her and I cuddled in too and we stayed like that for a long time. But we were all so tense it didn’t feel like a proper cuddle at all. It felt stiff instead of soft, as if we were stone statues. Then Marigold leant more heavily and started breathing deeply. She’d gone to sleep. Star slid away from her and went into the bedroom.

  I eased a pillow under Marigold’s head, covered her up with a rug and followed Star.

  She had her school bag and two carrier bags packed up, ready.

  ‘You’re really not coming back!’ I said, and I burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t, Dol. Please. I can’t bear it,’ said Star, crying too.

  ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘I have to. You can still come with me.’

  ‘No I can’t.’

  ‘Well. See what happens. I’ll leave the mobile here and phone you every day to make sure you’re all right. Any time you want to come just say.’

  ‘Let me have Micky’s number.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘I won’t tell Marigold.’

  ‘You might not mean to. But she’d get it out of you.’

  ‘How are you going to stop her tagging along tomorrow?’

  ‘That’s easy enough,’ said Star.

  And it was. Star got into my bed and held me close until I eventually went to sleep. I woke up around six but Star was already gone.

  I waited for Marigold to wake up. I hoped she’d sleep half the morning. But she woke early too, in spite of her hangover.

  ‘It’s a lovely sunny morning, my girls,’ she said, coming into our room.

  She was knuckling her forehead, trying to ease a headache. Then she saw Star’s empty bed and stopped dead, her arm still raised. She didn’t say anything. She just lay down on Star’s bed and started crying. These were new horrible heart-broken tears, as if she was choking. It sounded as if her serpent had coiled itself right round her neck.

  I thought Marigold might rush us down to Brighton again but she seemed to have given up on that idea. Her headache was bad and the crying made it worse so she went back to her own bed. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to play in my own bedroom because it seemed so empty without Star. I felt empty, totally hollow, as if all my insides had been sucked out of me. I wandered round and round the living room, feeling so eerily light that I felt I’d be bobbing up to the ceiling any minute. Then I thought of Mr Rowling stumbling about on his mouldering feet directly above my head. I looked up at the grimy ceiling. It was easy to imagine the stains of grisly footprints. It got so I couldn’t stand it so I woke Marigold, even though I knew she’d probably be bad-tempered.

  She was mean at first. She’d got it into her head that I’d ganged up with Star and knew all about her slipping off early. This was so unfair that I started crying. Then she cried too, and we had a cuddle. She smelt bad from the drink but I didn’t mind too much.

  ‘My Dol,’ she said, all safe and sweet again. ‘Sorry I was horrid to you, darling. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll have a lovely weekend, just you and me. And then Star will come home and we’ll be us three girls again. That’s what’s the matter, isn’t it. We’re just missing her.’

  I cried harder. I didn’t know what Marigold would do when she found out Star was gone for good. I didn’t know how I was going to cope. I felt emptier than ever, a balloon girl with a trailing string lost in the emptiness of the sky. I clung to Marigold and she rocked me. I mumbled something about feeling empty. Marigold thought I meant I was hungry.

  ‘I’m hungry too. Starving. We’ll go out for lunch, right, and then we’ll do a big big shop. Yes, we’ll buy lots of goodies. We’ll make sure there’s a special tea for Star when she comes back – and just in case Micky comes in with her we’ll get some beer in for him. We could make it like a little party . . .’

  She was off again. There was no way I could stop her. She wanted to take me to McDonald’s and I couldn’t stop that either – ‘Don’t be so silly, Dolly, you love McDonald’s’ – but to my great relief there was no sign of Mark and his mates, it was just crowded out with mums and kids.

  Marigold hardly ate anything herself even though she said she was starving. She bought lots for me, even selecting two butterscotch sundaes just the way Star had done. It made me miss Star terribly.

  Did she really really mean it? Wasn’t she ever going to come back? How could she leave Marigold? How could she leave me?

  My tummy went tight. Sour ice cream suddenly hurtled backwards from my stomach and I had to dash to the toilets. I felt emptier than ever afterwards.

  Marigold took me on the promised shopping spree, using the credit card I was so worried about. We bought food, we bought drink – too much drink – and we bought clothes, new black jeans and a long-sleeved black satin shirt for Marigold, new blue jeans and blue shirts for Star and me. New nighties too, black lace for Marigold, blue and white gingham check with white lace trim for Star and me. Marigold even bought blue and white paint to brighten up our bedroom, though I tried to stop her.

  She was tired when we got h