The Illustrated Mum Read online

  ‘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 like 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 shortsighted 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 lamp-post 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 was 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 upwards 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 too 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 answ