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Clean Break Page 5
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She smiled anxiously at me, flicking her ash. ‘Yes, you’re a good kid, Em. Quit nagging her, Mum.’
‘OK, I’ll start in on you, Julie. Why in God’s name are you smoking again when you gave it up years ago? Are you mad? Well yes, obviously you are, because you’re all dressed up like a dog’s dinner to see this pig husband of yours, when I wouldn’t mind betting he won’t turn up. Even if he does, he’s not taking you out, he’s made that plain.’
‘Do you ever listen to yourself, Mum? Do you get a kick out of saying hurtful things? I can’t stop you saying stuff to me, but I’m certainly not going to have you being mean to the kids, especially not now their whole world’s been turned upside down. Take no notice of your gran, kids, you wear what you like. I think you all look lovely.’
I nodded at Gran triumphantly but I couldn’t really enjoy the victory. I knew Maxie really did look silly in his cowboy outfit. Dad’s boots were so big they came right up to his bottom. Vita looked drop-dead gorgeous but like she was part of a dancing competition, not dressed to go out for the day. And though I kept hoping my Miss Kitty top looked perfectly OK, it was starting to look more and more like my nightie.
Still, Mum styled my hair for me and gave me my velvet ribbon. She tied another in Vita’s wispy locks too, and she gelled Maxie’s black mop so that it stuck up and looked very cute.
Then we waited. And waited and waited and waited. Mum had endless cups of coffee and cigarettes. I started secretly chomping chocolate biscuits because I felt so empty. I tried to keep Vita and Maxie amused, making Dancer draw her Santa experiences with Maxie’s felt pens, but I didn’t have a clue what a sleigh looked like and I was rubbish at drawing reindeer too.
I found it hard to concentrate because I was straining to hear Dad’s footsteps walking up our path. I kept thinking I heard him and went running, but each time there was no one on the doorstep.
‘I told you, he’s not coming,’ said Gran.
I wanted to punch her. Mum looked like she did too.
‘Give him a chance, Mum. He’s not late. He didn’t say a specific time, he just said he’d pop over to collect the kids in the morning.’
‘It’s quarter to twelve, Julie.’
‘It’s still technically morning.’
‘And you’re technically a gullible mug, getting yourself all worked up over that loser. Look at the state of you – and the kids.’
‘Stop getting at our mum and being so mean about our dad!’ I said fiercely. ‘You’re not supposed to talk like that in front of children.’
‘Children aren’t supposed to talk back to their grandmas like that, you cheeky little madam,’ said Gran. ‘Em? Em, I’m talking to you!’
I wasn’t listening. I heard footsteps. I ran. This time I was right!
‘Dad!’
I threw myself at him, my arms round his neck. He hadn’t shaved so his chin was scratchy and his hair was tousled round his shoulders like he’d just got out of bed but I didn’t care.
‘Daddy, oh, my daddy!’ Vita cried, copying the girl in The Railway Children video.
Dad scooped her up in his arms.
‘D-a-d!’ Maxie bellowed, butting Dad so hard with his gelled head that we nearly all toppled over.
‘Hey, kids, calm down!’ said Dad.
He stopped, swallowing, rubbing the space between his eyebrows as he looked the length of the hall to where Mum was standing. ‘Hi, Julie,’ he said softly, as if they’d only just met.
Mum didn’t say anything. She had her arms tightly folded, her hands gripping her elbows.
‘It’s OK for me to take the kids out?’ said Dad.
‘Can’t Mum come too?’ I begged.
Dad hesitated. ‘Well . . . this is a day out just for us,’ he said.
Mum turned on her heel, walked into the kitchen and shut the door.
‘Oh God. Julie? Look, OK, you come too, if you really want to. We have to talk, I know that. I just didn’t want any hassle, it’s not fair on the kids,’ said Dad.
‘How dare you!’ said Gran.
‘Oh God, I’m not up to this,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, kids, let’s get cracking.’ He took hold of Vita’s and Maxie’s hands and started pulling them out the door.
‘Dad! Wait! They haven’t got their coats. And Maxie can’t walk in your boots,’ I said, scrabbling around on the pegs for our three coats and kicking my way through old wellies and slippers for Maxie’s shoes.
‘You’re like a little mum, Em. More grown up than the lot of us,’ said Dad.
My heart thumped with pride under my Miss Kitty nightie. We followed Dad out of the house, half in and half out of our coats, Maxie scuffling in his unlaced shoes. We didn’t say goodbye to Gran. We didn’t even say goodbye to Mum.
4
DAD TOOK US on the train up to London. He bought a takeaway cup of black coffee at the station, and a bag of doughnuts for us. He shuddered when I offered him our bag of sugary doughnuts.
‘Go on, Dad, they’re delicious,’ I said, biting a doughnut until the scarlet jam spurted out.
‘Look, I’ve got lipstick,’ said Vita, smearing jam round her mouth.
‘Me too, me too,’ said Maxie.
‘I’m not very hungry, Em. You guys eat them,’ said Dad.
‘Don’t you feel well, Dad?’ I asked sympathetically.
‘I’m fine,’ said Dad, shivering. He pulled my woolly scarf tight round his neck. ‘Ooh, what a great cosy scarf this is!’
Dad had a little sleep on the train. Vita kept wanting to wake him up and Maxie started clamouring, ‘Are we in London yet?’ two minutes after we got on the train, but I managed to distract them. We looked out the window at people’s back gardens, playing Hunt the Child, on the lookout for swings and sandpits and bikes and balls.
Vita and Maxie kept squabbling over who saw things first. I kept glancing at Dad. He was very pale, huddled over, frowning in his sleep. I wondered if he was dreaming about us. I wanted to whisper in his ear, hypnotizing him when he was unconscious. You are going to come back home, Dad. You love Mum and Vita and Maxie and me. You can’t live without us.
I shook his arm gently when we got to Waterloo. Dad opened his eyes and looked startled, as if he’d forgotten all about us. Then he smiled. He went to the gents at the station and came back looking a bit better, his face washed, his breath minty.
‘Right, my darlings, we’re off to the parade,’ he said.
He told us this was a special New Year’s Day parade. We had to walk there because Maxie was terrified of the escalators in the tube station. Dad kept making up stories about the parade, until he had Vita and Maxie believing there would be bareback riders in sparkly bikinis on snow-white horses and painted elephants with jewelled tusks and winged monkeys flying right over people’s heads and snatching their hats off.
I knew he was making it all up but I almost believed it too, so the real parade was a disappointment. We couldn’t see properly for a start because there were such crowds. Dad let Vita and Maxie take turns sitting on his shoulder. I was much too big. If I stood on tiptoe I could see the heads of lots and lots of chanting girls. Every now and then they threw sticks in the air or waved feathers, but that was all. There were big floats with famous people dressed up, waving and calling, but mostly we couldn’t work out who they were.
Maxie whined whenever he had to let Vita have a turn on Dad’s shoulders, so I tried picking him up.
‘Lift me higher, Em, higher!’ Maxie yelled. ‘I can’t see a sausage.’
Then, very spookily, a giant walking sausage came bobbing along as if Maxie had rubbed a magic lamp and conjured it up. It was part of a troupe of people advertising a new breakfast show on television. Men dressed up as eggs, bacon, cups of tea and packets of cornflakes were also parading along, having to take mincing little steps because of their big polystyrene costumes. The Sausage didn’t really look like an obvious sausage when it was separated from its breakfast companions. Lots of people were falling about laughing, th