The Bed and Breakfast Star Read online

  But I built her up into such a little Baby Wonder that the kids in my class were drooling, and they all wanted to see the show with me and this mega-brilliant little brat and our glamorous movie-star mummy.

  ‘Sorry, folks, we’ve been sold out for weeks because the show’s so popular,’ I said breezily, though my heart was beating fit to bust.

  That shut them up for a few seconds, but then I started to wonder about going-home time. Mum had caught me out yesterday by trailing round to the school. What if she did it again today? What if she’d just pulled on her oldest old T-shirt and leggings and hadn’t bothered to do her hair? All the children would see her for themselves. And even if I could somehow manage to convince them that she was just practising for a forthcoming searingly realistic drama on the telly about a careworn young mother ground down by the system, they’d see Pippa too.

  It might help matters if my whole family were present and correct. I could tell them that Mack was all set for a remake of King Kong. He didn’t even need to bother with a costume.

  I shot out of school the moment the bell went. It was a huge great relief to see that Mum wasn’t there, though I couldn’t help feeling a weeny bit miffed all the same, because she said she’d come. She wasn’t back at the hotel either. None of them were. I couldn’t get into room 608 because I didn’t have a key, so I had to mooch about the corridors for ages. Naomi came along but she was a bit narked with me because I hadn’t waited for her after school, and she couldn’t play with me now anyway because she had to help her mum with her brothers. Then Funny-Face sloped into view, scuffing his trainers and spitting. He was even more narked with me because my mum had stirred things up yesterday and the school had done a check on their registers and sent the truant officer round and now Funny-Face and the Famous Five had to turn up at school tomorrow or else.

  ‘Or else you’ll all get into trouble and Elsa’ll get into trouble for getting you lot into trouble,’ I said, pulling a funny face at Funny-Face.

  He didn’t pull one back. He called me a lot of rude names, even the infamous one he wrote on the wall that I had to correct.

  I swept away loftily and pretended I didn’t care. But I felt a bit friendless by now. And I was starting to get dead worried that I might be familyless too.

  Why had they all pushed off without telling me where they were going? What if they’d finally got fed up with me and packed up and scarpered? I knew Mack didn’t want me. He’d go like a shot and he’d take Pippa and Hank because they were his kids and he cared about them. But Mum wouldn’t walk out on me, would she? Although only this morning, when the drains all went wrong and someone else’s dirty water came bubbling up in our basin, she burst into tears and said she couldn’t stick this rotten dump a day longer. So maybe . . . maybe she had gone too.

  The ceiling suddenly seemed a long long way off. I felt I was getting smaller and smaller until I wasn’t much more than a squeak. I hunched up on the floor with my head on my knees and held on tight in case I disappeared altogether.

  ‘Elsa? What on earth are you doing? What’s up, eh?’ said Mum, coming down the corridor.

  Yes, it was Mum, and I was so very pleased to see her even though she sounded cross. And I was very pleased to see Pippa even though she was all sniffly with her nose running. And I was very pleased to see Hank even though he was howling his head off and needing his nappy changed. And I was . . . No. I wasn’t very pleased to see Mack. I wouldn’t ever go that far.

  ‘Where have you been? I’ve been back from school ages and ages!’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry, love, but it’s not our fault. We had a right ding-dong with that useless Manager this morning because we’re all going to end up getting typhoid or cholera stuck in this poxy dump, and the tight-fisted pig won’t even send for a plumber to fix things, would you believe! Anyway, he said we could clear off if we didn’t like it here, and so I said we were doing our best to do just that, but we didn’t have any place to go, so then we went down the Housing Office, all of us, and would you believe they kept us waiting all day. They weren’t even going to see us at all because we didn’t have some stupid appointment, but we sat it out and I knew you’d be waiting, pet, but I couldn’t do anything, could I?’

  ‘So what happened, Mum? Are we getting a house?’

  ‘Are we heck,’ said Mum. ‘They just mumbled on about priority families and exceptional circumstances and said even if this dump was affecting our health we’d have to get some really bad complaint and it would all have to be written up in medical reports and even then, if we were all at death’s door, they couldn’t blooming well guarantee us a house or even a mouldy old flat like we used to have.’

  ‘So I asked what would guarantee us a house – did one of you kids have to snuff it altogether, is that it?’ Mack said. ‘It’s getting dangerously close too. Look at little Pippa, all sniffles. She can’t get rid of that cold, and as for the baby, well, I don’t like the sound of his chest at all.’

  Mack sighed over Hank, who was still exercising his magnificent lungs. They certainly sounded in full working order.

  ‘Yeah, Mack started to get really stroppy. Well, I did too, especially when they said they couldn’t even guarantee us a proper set of rooms here like we’re entitled to, instead of us having to squash up like sardines. They said there was nothing further they could do at this moment in time, and threatened to set the police on to us unless we left the office.’

  Mum sighed theatrically, the back of her hand to her forehead. She mightn’t be a proper actress but it certainly sounded as if she’d been giving a good performance down at the Housing Office. She threatened to go back again tomorrow, wondering if she could get us rehoused by sheer persistence.

  ‘Yes, good thinking, Mum,’ I said, encouraging her so she wouldn’t come to collect me from school and crack my credibility.

  Only I needn’t have bothered. Someone else started telling the wrong sort of tales the very next day. Someone with a funny face. And a great big mouth.

  Funny-Face got shoved in the special class too. Right next to me, at the front, under the Fisher’s pop eyes. This reminded me of 101 Popeye the Sailorman jokes – you know – and I swopped some of them with Funny-Face and we both got terrible snorty giggles, and Mrs Fisher’s eyes popped so much they almost rolled down her cheeks, and her mouth went so tight her lips disappeared.

  ‘I’m glad you two are finding school so amusing,’ she said, dead sarcastic. ‘Perhaps you’d like to share your little jokes with me, hmm?’

  Perhaps not. If she heard some of the wilder Popeye jokes she’d go off pop herself.

  So Funny-Face and I were getting on famously until playtime. And then one of the kids in the class asked if Funny-Face performed too.

  ‘You what?’ said Funny-Face.

  ‘Are you a child star like Elsarina and Pipette?’ They elaborated on the famous fictional talents of me and my family, and Funny-Face fell about, thinking this was just another joke, a wind-up on my part.

  ‘You lot aren’t half loopy,’ said Funny-Face. ‘How come you’ve fallen for all this rubbish? Elsa isn’t a famous star! She’s just a bed-and-breakfast kid, like me. And cripes, you should see her mum and her dopey little sister – stars!’

  That was enough. Funny-Face saw stars then. Because I punched him right in the nose.

  All the children started shouting ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ I was all set to have a proper fight even though I’m generally gentle, and Funny-Face was bewildered but wanted a fight too because I’d made his nose bleed. But as soon as we’d squared up to each other Mrs Fisher came flying forth and she seized Funny-Face in one hand and me in the other. She shook us both very vigorously indeed, practically clonking our heads together, and told us we were very rough, naughty children and we had to learn not to be violent in school.

  Then, as she stalked off, she said just one word. Well, she muttered it, but I heard. And Funny-Face did too. She said, ‘Typical.’ She meant we were typical bed-and-