My Mum Tracy Beaker Read online

  ‘You’re giving them far too much!’ he growled to Mum.

  ‘But if they feel their plateful’s good value, they’ll keep coming back, and they’ll tell their mates too,’ said Mum.

  She was great with the mums when they came in with their huge buggies. She always made a fuss of the babies and toddlers, and was happy to warm up their food from home. She slipped the children free toasted soldiers to keep them quiet while their mums drank their coffee and shared a chocolate brownie.

  ‘They take up half the caff and sit there nattering a full hour or more for the price of two coffees and one cake,’ Fred complained. ‘Where’s the profit in that, Tracy Beaker?’

  ‘Quit nagging her, Fred, she’s doing a grand job,’ said Margie – but she wasn’t too happy when Mum started chatting to all her old lady friends, refilling their teapots for nothing and letting them show her photos of their grandchildren.

  ‘It’s lovely that she’s such a friendly person, but I’m having to do most of the serving here while she’s sitting down with Susan and Kath and Marilyn,’ Margie murmured to Fred.

  I signalled to Mum, but she just winked at me, happy to be so popular. I tried not to worry, and wandered over to the window to distract myself. I started counting all the passers-by, but there were far too many – people dashing to and fro to catch buses, and ladies hurrying towards the shopping centre. So many ladies – in jeans and T-shirts and denim jackets, in loose tops and leggings, in smart suits and kitten heels, in slinky dresses and stilettos … A lady with ultra-styled hair, a slinky dress showing off her figure, and high heels that made her wiggle as she walked. I blinked behind my glasses. I knew that lady. I’d seen her before. It was Justine Littlewood.

  ‘Who are you staring at, Jess?’ Mum asked, rushing past with a fry-up in either hand.

  ‘Oh, no one in particular,’ I said quickly.

  But Mum was looking through the window herself now. With a flick of her fancy hair, Justine Littlewood turned her head and saw us standing there, staring out. For a moment she looked shocked. Then she started smiling. She stood there, hands on her hips, shaking her head. She looked Mum up and down, clearly taking in her shiny face and tousled hair, her apron, the two fry-ups. She mouthed one word at Mum. Loser.

  There was a crash. Two crashes, as both plates of food landed on the floor, tomatoes and baked beans and egg yolk spraying our legs. I’m not sure Mum even noticed she’d dropped them. She ran outside, though I yelled at her to come back. She ran right up to Justine Littlewood, who took a couple of steps backwards, looking alarmed. She wasn’t quick enough.

  Mum’s leg shot out and up. Her foot flew through the air. Justine Littlewood wobbled in her high heels and landed slap-bang on her bottom. Mum’s kick-boxing classes hadn’t been in vain.

  FRED SAID MUM had to go right that minute. He said he didn’t want members of his staff brawling with the general public, thank you very much.

  ‘It’s not Mum’s fault. That lady is her worst enemy – she stole her fiancé,’ I explained, but he wouldn’t listen.

  Fred counted out Mum’s small wage packet in an insulting fashion and thrust it at her. ‘Come on, get out of here, and take your bratty daughter with you,’ he said.

  When we got outside, both of us bright red in the face, Justine Littlewood came tottering up.

  ‘I’ve dialled 999! I’m going to have you for assault, Tracy Beaker. I’ve got witnesses, haven’t I?’ She appealed to various gawping passers-by. ‘They all saw you attack me. It’s a wonder I didn’t break my legs. I’m going to A and E to get myself X-rayed, just to make sure. As it is I’m going to be bruised all over! In fact, I bet the police will go for grievous bodily harm. How dare you!’

  ‘Just shut your face, you scheming little toad,’ said Mum, taking my hand. ‘Come on, Jess.’

  ‘I didn’t have to scheme much! Sean just fell into my arms,’ Justine Littlewood called after us. ‘He’s so glad to be rid of you – do you know that? We’re blissfully happy, him and me. And we’re going into business together. I’ve made a success of my life, Tracy Beaker. It looks like you’ve messed things up every which way. Loser! Loser!’

  I felt Mum twitch. ‘Come away, Mum. Please please please don’t kick her again!’ I begged, pulling at her. ‘Quick, before a policeman comes! Oh, Mum, don’t get arrested!’

  Mum saw that I was frantic so she let me lead her away, while Justine Littlewood screamed abuse after us.

  ‘Hurry, Mum!’ I kept urging her.

  ‘She won’t have called the police. She’s just bluffing. And I didn’t kick her, I didn’t even touch her – she just fell over because she lost her balance. I wish to goodness I had kicked her now,’ Mum said furiously, but she kept pace with me.

  All the way home I was terrified the police were after us. I couldn’t even relax when we were in the car because it was so terribly distinctive. I kept hearing sirens behind us. We had to leave the car miles away from the Duke Estate. As we were trudging along the pavement I heard a wailing noise coming along the road.

  ‘Oh, Mum! Run! Let’s hide in the park! Quick!’ I yelled.

  ‘It’s not the police, Jess, it’s an ambulance. See? It’s OK,’ she said.

  I breathed out so hard I felt dizzy.

  ‘Here.’ Mum took my bag and gave me a quick hug. ‘I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to frighten you so. I’m a terrible mother.’

  ‘No you’re not, you’re the best mother in the world,’ I insisted.

  I went on saying it when we were back in our flat, but Mum couldn’t seem to take it in. She sat on the sofa and kept shaking her head.

  ‘She called me a loser, Jess. And she’s right. I am a loser. I’ve made a mess of everything. I’ve never had a proper job or relationship. I always thought the one thing I could be proud of was being a good mum – and then I go scaring you to death every time I lose my temper,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not your fault you’ve got Anger Issues, Mum. It’s because you didn’t have a proper mum looking after you,’ I said, sitting beside her.

  ‘Neither did Justine. And Sean certainly didn’t have a proper mum. Yet they’ve both made a big success of their lives. It’s just me,’ said Mum, and she hid her face in her hands.

  She stayed sad no matter how hard I tried to cheer her up. She got a Monday-to-Friday job in a big coffee shop straight away, but she didn’t like it because she had to make coffees all day and didn’t get a chance to talk to the customers.

  ‘But it’s a job. And I get paid, even though it’s a pittance,’ she said.

  She tried to be friends with the girls who worked there, but they were both in their teens and very giggly.

  ‘They’re OK, but they treat me like I’m an old lady,’ said Mum. ‘I suppose I am in their eyes.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mum. You’re still young. Well, youngish,’ I said. ‘You look young anyway.’

  ‘No I don’t. I look like an old bag,’ she said.

  She wasn’t looking that great actually. All her sparkle had gone. She was very pale and she was getting thinner, so that her T-shirts hung off her and her jeans were baggy round the bottom. Even her hair lost its spring and drooped limply.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Cam when we paid our daily visit to Alfie. ‘How would you like to go to a spa and have a lovely massage? I went with Mary – I thought I’d hate it but it was absolute heaven. You could get your hair done and your nails painted.’

  Cam was certainly looking great.

  ‘It’s not my sort of thing,’ said Mum. ‘And however much would it cost?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Mary paid for me. But it could be my birthday treat to you.’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Mum.

  ‘So what would you like for your birthday?’ Cam persisted.

  ‘I’m not bothering with my birthday this year.’

  ‘Don’t be daft – you always love it when it’s your birthday,’ said Cam. ‘What shall we do next Saturday? Shall I throw you a party?’