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  after me. He refused to make any attempt to say anything to us, though he still swore when especially irritated. This was a great deal of the time. However, the n u r s e s said he was improving dramatically. He h a d supposedly s t a r t e d to walk during his physiotherapy sessions but he barely turned over in bed while we were there.

  Someone had put a television in his room, thinking it an act of kindness. Dad behaved as if a miniature Kingdom of Hell was flaming at t h e end of his bed. Whenever the n u r s e s switched it on he pulled the sheets up over his head, as if in fear of being scorched. But as the days passed he gradually peeped at several programmes, watching with one eye. Now he gazed avidly at the screen and shushed us if we spoke during his favourite shows.

  'Do you think Dad will let us have a telly when he comes home?' Grace asked eagerly.

  'What are you going to buy it with, Monopoly money?' said Mum.

  She was still sifting through the bills and final demands every day. She got in such a state t h a t she plucked up the courage to ask Dad what we should do.

  Dad ignored her. Mum asked again, louder, though she went pink, terrified a passing nurse might hear about our money problems.

  Dad still took no notice whatsoever, though we knew there wasn't anything wrong with his hearing.

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  Mum didn't pursue it. She managed to make small talk and gave Dad her usual kiss on his forehead, but on the bus going home her lip started quivering.

  'It's all very well for your father, tucked up safe in the hospital,' she said. 'But what are we going to do when these bailiffs come and bash down the door?'

  'Can't we sell the shop, Mum?' I asked.

  'It would kill your father, Prue. He loves the shop so, you know he does. And anyway, I can't put it on the market, it's your dad's property. I doubt if anyone would buy it now anyway. It needs so much work doing to it – and the whole parade's gone to seed.'

  'So what will happen to us?' Grace asked.

  'We'll manage somehow,' I said. 'If we get slung out of the shop t h e n they'll have to rehouse us somewhere.'

  'On the Wentworth estate!' Mum said. 'And what would we have to live on, anyway?'

  'You'd get . . . I don't know, unemployment benefit?'

  'Your dad's never forked out for his proper national insurance payments, or mine either,'

  said Mum.

  'Then you'll just have to put Grace and me on the streets,' I said, joking.

  'You're starting to look like a street girl!' Mum shouted after me now, as I went out the door.

  'Whatever will your teacher think, going babysitting looking like that!'

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  'I look fine. You're j u s t hopelessly old-fashioned,' I said, but I kept glancing at my reflection anxiously all the way to Laurel Grove.

  Marianne answered the door to me. I saw her initial bemused expression. Then she smiled, rubbing her forehead above her nose.

  'I look funny, don't I?' I said.

  'What? No, no, of course not. Come on, Prue.

  You look very original, as always – and enviably skinny. No, I've just got a bit of a headache, that's all. You know, time of the month and everything.' She peered at me in the light of the hall. 'You've gone a bit mad on your make-up tonight, haven't you?'

  'I knew I looked awful.'

  'Just a bit . . . bright. Why don't you try slightly subtler shades? Which lipstick do you use?'

  'I haven't got any lipstick, or any other make-up. I just have to use my paints.'

  'I see. Yeah, that's a bit of a problem. Here, come up to my room, let's see if I can find you anything.'

  I h a d to follow her u p s t a i r s and into her bedroom. She rummaged through her messy cosmetic bag.

  'Hang on, I know I've got a dusky pink lipstick somewhere.'

  I couldn't tell her that I'd experimented with it several times, t h a t every time I came to babysit I couldn't stop myself creeping into their bedroom and examining everything in it. I'd 197

  even taken to lying on her pillow and pretending t h a t Rax was lying right next to me.

  I averted my eyes from their bed now and let Marianne wipe off all the paint with her make-up remover cream. She started applying her own make-up on my face.

  I could hear chuckles and shouts from the children in the bathroom. I thought Rax was giving both of them a bath. I was alarmed to open my eyes after M a r i a n n e h a d finished shadowing them to see Rax reflected in the mirror, watching us.

  'Oh, sorry!' I said foolishly. 'Shall I go and see to the children now?'

  'We're not finished yet!' said Marianne. 'What about eyeliner? J u s t a very subtle grey shade?

  Keith, you haven't left the kids in the bath, have you?'

  'No, no, they're in their jim-jams. I'm just looking for Harry's Honeybear, but I got distracted by the make-up session. It looks great.'

  ' J u s t call me the makeover queen,' said Marianne. She gathered my long wild hair in her hands. 'Hey, let's see what your hair looks like pinned up.'

  I could feel myself blushing. I felt horribly self-conscious in front of Rax. I didn't want Marianne dabbing at me any longer, even if she was good at it.

  'No, it looks silly up. I don't like it,' I said.

  I liked my hair springing over my face and bouncing round my shoulders. I felt too exposed 198

  with it pinned up. But M a r i a n n e twirled it round her finger, and fixed it in a little chignon on top.

  'There!' she said. 'Oh, t h a t looks so good!

  You've got such a lovely neck, Prue, just like a little ballet dancer.'

  I pulled a face, fidgeting.

  'Doesn't she look lovely, Keith?' said Marianne.

  'Yes, she does,' said Rax. 'But maybe you should be getting on with your hair and make-up, Marianne, or we'll never get out. The film starts at half past eight.'

  Marianne sighed. 'We can always get it out later on DVD. I'm not sure I can be bothered, not with this headache. I don't really feel like going out at all.'

  'I think we should try to make the most of tonight. It might be our last chance for a while,'

  said Rax.

  He looked at me. I stared into the mirror at my own reflection, pretending to admire my new hairstyle.

  Rax waited a moment. 'Prue isn't sure she can keep on babysitting on a regular basis,' he said.

  I swallowed. 'Yes I can.'

  I didn't dare look at him.

  'Didn't you tell me at school t h a t your mum isn't too happy about it?' Rax said sternly.

  'Oh, she's had second thoughts.'

  'Are you sure?' said Marianne. 'We've been a bit cheeky, simply commandeering you a n d taking you totally for granted.'

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  'I'm quite sure,' I said.

  'Well, that's good,' said Marianne. 'Isn't it, Keith?'

  Rax said nothing. I knew he was probably furious with me but I couldn't help it. He walked out of the room, ignoring both of us.

  Marianne raised her eyebrows at me. 'Take no notice. He's been a bit edgy all week. Oh well, I suppose I'd better show willing and get ready.

  I'd much sooner stay home and play

  hairdressers!'

  She smiled at me. I watched myself in the mirror, smiling straight back at her. I felt so wicked. I waited for the mirror to crack, for the walls to close in on me, for the carpet to slide down into a dark pit, taking me with it.

  I stayed sitting on Marianne's padded stool, the two of us smiling into the mirror, as if we were posing for our portrait.

  I still felt wicked when Rax and Marianne h a d gone out.

  I made a special fuss of the children, bending over Lily's cot, holding her little chubby fist while I sang to her. I had to struggle to set my fingers free after she'd fallen fast asleep.

  Harry was in a surprisingly sweet clingy mode too. I read him my old copy of Where the Wild Things Are. He pretended to be a little frightened so he could sit on my lap and have a cuddle. I drew him a big, stripy, wickedly-claw