The Illustrated Mum Read online

  I got up and went into the kitchen, feeling shy and stupid. Micky was making a cup of coffee, wearing his black clothes, looking fresh and washed though his cheeks were shadowy with stubble. Star was sitting on the table sipping a glass of water and swinging her bare legs. They were deep in conversation but they both stopped when I appeared.

  ‘I want a drink of water,’ I said, like a stupid toddler.

  ‘Sure,’ said Micky, pouring me one. ‘Now, Star and I were just discussing breakfast.’

  ‘We have cornflakes. But there isn’t any milk,’ I said.

  ‘I can go round to the corner shop,’ said Star. ‘I think it opens early on Saturdays.’

  ‘You can’t go out and do the shopping,’ said Micky fondly.

  He looked as if he thought she was too little to shop. I wanted to tell him that Star had done the shopping ever since I could remember. She was much better at it than Marigold. I opened my mouth but Star glared at me. She obviously liked him thinking she was just a dumb little kid.

  ‘I thought we’d go out for breakfast,’ said Micky.

  We blinked at him. You could go out for lunch, out for dinner. We’d never thought about going out for breakfast before.

  ‘Where?’ I said. Then I suddenly got hopeful. ‘How about McDonald’s?’

  ‘We don’t want burgers, we want breakfast!’ said Micky. ‘I know exactly where we’ll go. You two girls get your glad rags on. I’ll try and wake your mum. She was out for the count when I last looked.’

  We got ready in no time. Star didn’t bother with make-up. She wore her black jeans – to be like him – and she tied a black velvet ribbon round her neck.

  ‘That looks stupid,’ I said grumpily. The black on her white skin looked beautiful.

  I wore my own black embroidered top and a black and white checked skirt that Marigold made me from a 50p remnant. She’d embroidered black and white yin and yang signs in some of the squares but she’d got fed up before she’d sewn it up properly and so I had to safety pin it together. I wanted a black velvet ribbon necklace to set off my outfit too but I couldn’t copy Star.

  We’d woken Marigold together. She said, ‘Micky?’ even before her eyes were open.

  ‘He’s still here. He wants to take us out for breakfast,’ Star said proudly.

  ‘Great,’ said Marigold, swinging her legs out of bed. She staggered as she got up. ‘Oh God,’ she said, clutching her head. ‘I feel like death.’

  She was a long time showering and dressing and putting on her make-up. When she came into the kitchen at last her face was sickly white, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair hung limply, straggling about her ears. Her cross tattoo still wasn’t healing properly, and looked raw and scabby. She wore the skimpy sequin top and short skirt she’d had on yesterday. It didn’t look right in the morning light.

  I looked at her worriedly. Up until that moment I’d always believed Marigold was beautiful. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Micky was looking at her too, a little crease in his forehead.

  ‘OK, sweetheart?’

  I tried to feel relieved. Sweetheart. He must really care about her then. Although he said it in a casual offhand way, as if it was what he called all his girls.

  ‘Right, Star,’ he said, putting his arm lightly round her shoulders.

  He said her name specially, as if a real little star sparkled on his lips.

  He had his car outside, a red Jaguar XJ6. Star squealed when she saw it.

  ‘Oh wow,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been in a Jaguar before.’

  ‘Sit in the front with me,’ said Micky.

  Star glanced at Marigold. She nodded and put on her dark glasses.

  ‘Yes, sit beside your dad,’ she said.

  Micky chuckled.

  ‘I can’t hear that enough times. Dad! It’s so weird too, because this last year or so I’ve been very conscious of time passing—’

  ‘Like a crossroads!’ Marigold said triumphantly, climbing in the car, showing a great deal of her decorated legs. ‘Oh Micky, we’re soulmates! That’s why I had to get the cross. Hey, maybe I’ll get Steve to add your name and mine, at the back of the cross? Or maybe in a swirly pattern, joined at each end?’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Micky. ‘No, what I was meaning, I’d got to thinking how much I’d like to have a kid, seriously wondering about it, though the idea of little puking babies kind of put me off. And now I can’t believe my luck! A beautiful ready-made daughter, the sweetest surprise of my life.’

  Star giggled as he helped her fix her seat back. She peered over her shoulder and mouthed, ‘See!’

  I saw all sorts of things that day. It stopped me enjoying what should have been the most special day of my life because we had so many treats. Micky drove us right to London and we had breakfast in a posh hotel. We had croissants and coffee and this most amazing fizzy drink that was partly orange juice and partly real champagne. I wondered if I was going to get drunk. Star seemed slightly sloshed before she’d had a single sip. She sat close beside Micky and he kept fussing over her food, opening up her little pot of jam and spreading her butter for her.

  I spread my own croissant and ate it awkwardly, smearing greasy crumbs all down my black velvet skirt. The bubbles in the Bucks Fizz took me by surprise and I coughed and spluttered. Marigold reached over to thump me on the back and knocked her own coffee over in the process. Star and Micky looked as if they wished they were on their own.

  We went to Hamley’s in Oxford Street afterwards, a special huge toy shop. Micky took us to look at the dolls though even he could see that Star was past that stage. I knew I should be too old for dolls too but I ached with longing as I looked at all the specially designed dolls locked away in glass cases. They had beautiful gentle faces and long long long hair. My fingers itched to comb it. They had wonderful romantic outfits too, hand-sewn smocked dresses and ruched pinafores and perfect little leather boots.

  I leaned my forehead on the cold glass and stared at them all, making up names for each one and inventing their personalities. They all reached out for me with their long white fingers. They looked so real I was sure they couldn’t be cold and stiff to touch. I chose the one I liked the very best. She had long blonde curls and blue eyes and a dress and pinafore outfit the pink and blue of hyacinths, with pink silky socks and blue shoes fastened with little pearl buttons. I called her Natasha and knew she and I could be best friends for ever . . .

  ‘Come on, Dol,’ Star said, tugging at my elbow.

  When she finally managed to prise me away I left a little blur on the glass where I’d breathed in and out so longingly. Marigold was rushing round all the Barbies, talking in a high-pitched over-excited way, like she was a little girl herself. She was worse down in the toy animal department, picking up bears and lions and monkeys and making them growl and roar and gibber. I got scared one of the assistants would come over and tell us off. I knew Star was tense too, forever glancing at Micky. He seemed surprised but was quite cool about it. He even did a spot of animal talking himself, making a big gorilla lunge at Star so that she squealed. I hung back, thinking of Natasha upstairs.

  ‘Dol! Say thank you to Micky,’ Marigold said, nudging me.

  I hadn’t take it in properly. Micky wanted to buy all three of us a toy animal. He tried to talk Star into having the huge gorilla but she laughed and said he was too scary. She chose a honey-coloured teddy bear with a slightly squashed snout and velvet padded paws. Marigold made a much bigger production over her animal, juggling with hippos and pandas and an enormous plush python, but she eventually chose an orange stripy tiger with great green eyes.

  ‘It looks exactly like you, Marigold,’ said Micky. He turned to me. ‘You must choose too, Dolphin. How about a dolphin?’

  There were big fat turquoise dolphins with black faces and white zig-zag teeth. I didn’t like them at all but I felt it might be rude to say so. I was desperate to get Star on her own to see if I could ask for Natasha instead. I knew she’d cost a lot