The Illustrated Mum Read online

  ‘I think your mum is so beautiful,’ said Oliver.

  I stared at him hard to make sure he wasn’t taking the mickey. But Oliver looked totally earnest, blinking rapidly, his long tufty fringe way past the rim of his glasses.

  ‘I think she’s beautiful too,’ I said.

  ‘I especially love her tattoos. They look so special. They’re not a bit like the usual ordinary red and blue sort.’

  ‘Those are just flash tattoos. You get the designs on the walls of tattoo parlours and they’re copied onto your arm. Boring. But my mum has custom tattoos, ones she’s designed herself. They’re all to commemorate something special in her life.’

  ‘And she’s got a dolphin to commemorate you?’

  ‘Yep. It’s a sort of magic mythical dolphin, not a common old bottlenose.’

  ‘Could I . . . could I see it properly?’ Oliver asked, breathing hard.

  ‘What? On my mum?’ I hesitated. I was used to thinking that Oliver was just awful old Owly. It seemed ultra-weird that he was an interesting person inside.

  He wasn’t a wise choice for a friend. All the other kids teased him so they’d tease me too. But then they did already.

  ‘Do you want to come round to my house some time, Oliver?’

  ‘Yes please!’

  ‘What about your mum? Will she let you?’

  ‘She’ll be thrilled that I’ve got a friend,’ said Oliver.

  ‘Well . . . not exactly,’ I said, thinking he was being a bit presumptuous.

  ‘Can I come after school today?’ said Oliver.

  I thought quickly. I wasn’t sure if Marigold would be better yet.

  ‘Maybe not today. My mum gets these moods,’ I said.

  ‘So does mine,’ said Oliver. ‘Headaches and crying and stuff. I have to be extra quiet and make her a cup of tea and give her some aspirin.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, my heart beating. I hadn’t realized other mums could act like that too.

  ‘It’s since she and my dad split up. He’s got a girlfriend.’ Oliver whispered the word girlfriend as if it was shocking. ‘I don’t like her.’

  ‘So? My mum’s had lots of boyfriends. Star and me have hated nearly all of them.’

  ‘What about your dad? Do you see him on Saturdays?’

  ‘No. I don’t ever see him.’

  ‘I don’t always want to see my dad either,’ said Oliver. ‘Dolphin, do you promise I can come to tea at your house?’

  ‘Well. Yes. Sometime. But we don’t always have ordinary tea. Like it might just be cakes.’

  ‘Cool! I love cakes.’

  ‘Or fish and chips from the chippy or pizza or something. We don’t really have proper cooked teas like other people.’

  ‘You are lucky,’ said Oliver.

  He really wasn’t taking the mickey.

  ‘Maybe we are friends,’ I said.

  I showed off about my new friend Oliver to Star after school. She didn’t seem particularly impressed. We were both tense as we opened the front door and went up the stairs. Marigold had spells when she went on drinking every day. But this time she wasn’t slumped on the sofa or throwing up in the bathroom. She was singing in the kitchen, her red hair newly washed, her eyes carefully outlined so they looked even bigger, green as green. She was wearing her best black jeans and a tight black top that showed off her figure. Oliver was right. Marigold looked the most beautiful mother in the world.

  ‘Hi, darlings,’ she said cheerily. ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got some juice and chocolate cookies – shop ones, Star.’

  ‘Great!’ I said, starting to gobble straight away.

  Star nibbled her cookie tentatively.

  ‘Good?’ said Marigold. ‘And there’s cold chicken and heaps of salad stuff for supper. You’ll fix it, won’t you, Star?’

  Star stopped eating.

  ‘Why? Where are you going?’

  ‘Oh, I thought I’d just have a little evening out, darling. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Yes. I do mind. I was going out,’ said Star. ‘I’m meeting some of my friends down at McDonald’s.’

  ‘Well, how about if you go out tomorrow? It is kind of important that I go tonight,’ Marigold wheedled.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ said Star, clenching her fists. Her cookie crumbled all over the kitchen floor.

  I ate mine up in three bites, even though I was starting to feel sick. I hate rows.

  Marigold was doing her best to avoid one.

  ‘I know it’s not fair, sweetie,’ she said, trying to put her arm round Star. Star shrugged her off angrily. ‘Just this one little night out. Come on. It means so much to me. It could even be important to you too, darling.’

  ‘How exactly could your going out pubbing and clubbing and getting drunk and making a fool of yourself and picking up strange men be important to me?’ said Star.

  Her words buzzed round the kitchen like a swarm of angry bees.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Marigold. She laughed shakily. ‘Look, Star, this really is important. I’m not going to any old pub or club. And I won’t get drunk or do anything silly. Look.’ She took a ticket out of her jeans pocket and waved it. ‘I’m going to a concert, see?’ She’s pulled the lucky four-leaf clover out of her pocket too. It whirled through the air and landed at her feet.

  ‘Don’t tread on your clover leaf, Marigold,’ I said, picking it up for her.

  ‘Thanks, little poppet. I need all the luck I can get,’ said Marigold, kissing the clover and putting it carefully back.

  Star was staring at the ticket.

  ‘You’re going to a concert?’

  ‘I wanted to take you two girls too, I know you’d love it, even though you tease me about my musical taste, Star. But they’re all sold out. I got this one ticket by a lucky fluke. Well, maybe it was the clover leaf, Dol.’

  ‘What concert is it?’

  ‘Emerald City. Remember, we saw the poster?’

  ‘They’re still playing?’ said Star. ‘They must be positively geriatric by now. Old guys going bald with beer bellies. I’m amazed they’re still around.’

  ‘This is a reunion concert. They’ve had separate careers for ages. And you never know – it might be a reunion concert for me too,’ said Marigold, her eyes glittering.

  ‘What?’ said Star.

  ‘Don’t you want to meet your father?’ said Marigold.

  ‘Oh, please! Do me a favour,’ said Star.

  ‘Emerald City were his favourite band,’ said Marigold. ‘He’ll be there. I just know he will. Micky.’ She always said his name reverently, her eyes shining, as if he was the leader of some strange religious cult and she was his chief worshipper.

  She had his name tattooed on her chest, with a swirly Celtic heart beating blackly above her own. Tattooists advise you not to have anyone’s name on your body because once it’s there you’re stuck with it always, unless you laser it away. But Micky’s name is engraved for ever on Marigold’s real heart and no laser in the world could make that ink dissolve.

  ‘Don’t you want to meet your dad, Star?’ said Marigold.

  ‘You’re mad,’ said Star. She said the forbidden word coldly and deliberately. Marigold flinched. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘OK. We’ll see,’ she said.

  Star seemed turned into stone. She wouldn’t let Marigold kiss her goodbye. I kissed Marigold twice instead.

  ‘You will come back, won’t you? You won’t stay out all night?’ I said, giving her more quick little kisses. Seven for special luck.

  ‘Of course I won’t stay out all night, silly Dol,’ said Marigold. She seemed to have forgotten the other night already. ‘I’ll be back way before twelve, you’ll see.’ She glanced at Star. ‘With Micky.’

  She tapped out of the flat in her high heels. She left such a deep silence behind her that we could hear Mrs Luft moaning from her doorway about stiletto heels marking the stair-covering.

  Star s