Secrets Page 9

  Patsy should go back too. She’s curled up in the corner with my new red coat over her as a blanket. It arrived this morning. I love it. I hope Patsy doesn’t dribble on it. She’s sucking her thumb, nearly asleep. She’s been crying. Terry wouldn’t go for her – Nan would tear his head off his shoulders if he did – but she might panic and blurt out where I am. Loretta’s too canny to give so much as a hint and Britney can’t talk so I don’t have to worry about them.

  It’s been such a long day. It was fun at first. Nan gave us each five whole pounds and we went round the market for ages choosing stuff. I bought a new big, fat spiral notebook with a gold cover because I’ve filled up every single page of the Terry Torture book with my diary entries. Patsy bought a little pink glittery notebook and some pink daisy hairslides. Willie bought a weird garage CD and two old copies of Viz off a second-hand stall. Loretta donated her fiver to Britney and bought her three yellow plastic ducks with orange beaks, the sort you float in the bath. Britney always grizzles and fusses when Loretta baths her, though she’s fine when I have a go, splashing round like a little water-baby, but it would NOT be tactful to point this out. As soon as she spotted the ducks Britney loved them and wanted them right now, this instant. She didn’t want to hold just one, she wanted to clutch all three, which is a bit of a job if you’ve got normal-size hands and totally impossible if you’re a baby. After a great deal of fussing we got her holding the big mother duck with the two ducklings tucked either side of Britney in her buggy.

  Britney was so excited she kept trying to kiss the big duck and getting pecked all over with its plastic beak. She had little pink peck marks on her cheeks and forehead but she didn’t seem to mind a bit. I said, ‘Yes, Britney, duck! Lovely duck, three lovely ducks. Who’s a lucky girl to have a duck, eh?’ so often that she seemed to get the hang of talking too and said ‘duck’ herself, over and over. Only she hasn’t got enough teeth to make a clear ‘d’ sound so it seemed like she was swearing and we all burst out laughing.

  Then we took her to the park and we all had a swing. I started showing off, climbing up the rusty swing poles and hanging by my hands from the top. Patsy squealed and Loretta nagged but Willie was dead impressed, I could tell. He tried to shin up himself but he kept slipping down. He said it was because his hands were sweaty, but that was an excuse. Then a green mini-van pulled up and I started sweating myself but it wasn’t Terry, it was just a woman with a whole load of dogs, though it made me start worrying all the same. I thought we shouldn’t be hanging around somewhere like the park. It was one of the first places Terry might come looking for me.

  I couldn’t think where else we could go. Patsy was starting to droop a bit and Britney was getting hungry and needed changing.

  ‘We’ll go round my friend Marianne’s,’ said Loretta.

  ‘What, all of us?’ said Willie, pulling a face. ‘I can’t stick your mate Marianne.’

  ‘You don’t have to come too, Willie,’ I said. ‘You can go off with your mates if you want.’

  Willie thought about it. Then he shook his head.

  ‘Nah, it’s OK. I’ll come with you lot. If Terry tracks you down you’ll need me to protect you, right?’

  I threw my arms round him I was so touched. Willie went red and wriggled away as soon as possible. I thanked him. I thanked them all.

  ‘Put a sock in it, Treasure,’ said Loretta. ‘Don’t go on like that in front of Marianne or I’ll be dead embarrassed.’

  Loretta got to know Marianne when she was in hospital having Britney. Marianne had a little boy on the same day, called Tim, only she calls him Tigger and dresses him in these cute little orange-and-black stripey outfits. Tigger certainly roars like a tiger. When he and Britney are both having a cry you can’t hear yourself think. But that was great, because I didn’t want to think, not about Terry and Mum round at Nan’s.

  I wasn’t all that keen on Marianne either. She’s nineteen and yet she acts like she’s Patsy’s age. It’s daft, the council have given her this smashing flat and yet she can’t get her act together and keep it clean. She can’t do the simplest things like turn on the boiler or get the phone connected. The council won’t give Loretta her own place because she’s only fifteen but she’s heaps more sensible than Marianne. Loretta wants to move in with her which seems a great idea, but her social worker thinks this mightn’t be a good idea. She thinks they might go out clubbing and leave the babies on their own.

  ‘Cheek!’ said Loretta, heating up a bottle for Britney in Marianne’s cold and grubby kitchen. ‘As if we would!’

  ‘Well, I’d always babysit for you if you did fancy a night out,’ I offered.

  ‘That’s sweet of you, Treasure. You’re great with Britney, I know.’ Loretta paused. ‘Maybe that’s why your mum’s desperate to get you back. Do you help her out a lot with baby Gary?’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s nowhere near as cute as Britney. Anyway, she’ll have to manage. I’m not going back.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ said Loretta. ‘Not with that Terry around. I don’t know what’s up with your mum. If any bloke of mine hit Britney he’d be out on his ear. Not that I’m that fussed about blokes if Britney’s dad is a shining example. Nah, soon as I’m sixteen, seventeen tops, I’ll nag for my own flat just like this one. Then you could always come and live with Britney and me, Treasure.’

  ‘No, Treasure and me are going to share a flat the minute we leave school,’ said Patsy, doing a little grapevine-chassez-kick-ball-change routine up and down the tiled floor.

  ‘Well, I’m not sharing a flat with Treasure,’ said Willie, grinning. ‘It would cramp my style with all my girlfriends!’

  But Willie stayed with me at Marianne’s all afternoon, sprawling in one of her slippery leatherette armchairs, yawning and cracking his knuckles and sighing, not even able to watch television because Marianne’s set has gone on the blink and she hasn’t done anything about getting it fixed. We used the babies like little television sets, all of us sitting gawping at them as they lay on their backs and kicked on Marianne’s dusty hearthrug. It’s black-and-orange striped acrylic so Tigger in his tiger playsuit blended in so completely Patsy didn’t notice he was there and very nearly trod on him.

  Loretta phoned Nan at four but it was obvious my Mum and Terry were still grimly sitting it out with Bethany and Kyle and little Gary. She heard him grizzling in the background.

  So we sat on too, waiting and waiting, until Britney started to fuss for another feed. Loretta didn’t have any more bottles. Marianne didn’t have the right formula as she’s put Tigger on cow’s milk already, so Loretta had to take Britney home.

  Willie and Patsy and I stayed on at Marianne’s for a bit but then her new boyfriend came round on his way home from work and it was obvious we were in the way. So we cleared off. Patsy and I are hanging out at McDonald’s now, like I said, and Willie’s just rung and Terry’s van is still there.

  I don’t know what to do. They’re obviously camping out at Nan’s all day. Maybe all night too. I don’t know what to do or where to go.

  Patsy’s woken up again now but she’s a bit sniffly. Two different mums have clucked over her and asked me if we’re all right. I keep saying yes, we’re fine, but we’re not. We can’t stay here much longer.

  A third woman has just come up and asked where our mother is. We both said, truthfully, that she’s at home. Then this woman shook her head at us and said that we should be at home too, and didn’t we have anyone looking after us? I told her, equally truthfully, that my uncle was going to meet up with us soon. That reassured her a little, but she did shake her head again over Patsy.

  I’m worried about her. She’s trying to be so good. Every so often she reaches up and puts her arm round me and tells me not to worry – but she keeps on crying. I’ve used up half the paper napkins in McDonald’s mopping her.

  Later. Much, much later! You will never, ever, ever guess where I am!

  OK, I was in McDonald’s with Patsy and then the
mobile rings again, and this time Willie’s all excited. He was walking back into town when he saw Terry in the van driving off.

  ‘You’re sure it was him? There are heaps of vans like his,’ I said.

  Willie said he’d seen Terry at the wheel, my mum beside him with the baby on her lap. It was definitely them. They’d really and truly gone.

  I gave Patsy a big hug and told her we could go home at long last. She burst into a fresh flood of tears because she was so happy. We set off hand in hand. Patsy was so relieved to be going home at last she perked up and skipped and sashayed all the way down the road. I did too, even though my last year’s boots were pinching and there was still a flicker of fear in my stomach.

  Willie was waiting for us at the end of Latimer Road, jumping up and down on someone’s little garden wall like he was doing step exercises. When he saw us coming he waved in mid-step, slipped and landed on his knees. It must have hurt horribly and we heard some pretty impressive swearing, but when we reached him he was all smiles.

  ‘He’s gone, he’s gone! And if he comes back I’ll sort him out, don’t you worry, Treasure,’ Willie said, squaring his shoulders.

  We both knew Terry could knock Willie flying using just his little finger but I grinned at him gratefully. The three of us set off through the estate. Patsy did her little dance and Willie borrowed a skateboard and did a few super-nifty swirls and swoops in celebration. I had a go too. I didn’t quite get the knack at first and kept tipping it up. Willie enjoyed crowing that I was useless – but then he showed me how to place my feet and the right way to lean and I was suddenly off, swooping along, gathering speed, my new glasses slipping, my hair streaming, my mouth screaming . . .

  I heard this car behind me and I thought, Oh help, how do I stop? Still, all the cars slow down for skateboarders, even though the drivers shout and swear a bit. But this car seemed to be revving up so I swerved to one side, trying to look round. I swerved too far and fell right off.

  It wasn’t a car. It was a van. A green van. It was Terry back. He’d played a trick on us. He hadn’t really gone. He’d waited for Willie to give me the tip off and now he’d ambushed us.

  I saw Mum. She was out of the van first, almost dropping baby Gary, clutching him to her hip with one hand.

  ‘Treasure!’ she cried. It sounded like she really cared. My heart turned over. Maybe I’d been an idiot. What was I doing, running away from my own mum? I loved her. I loved her just as much as Nan. She needed me—

  But then Terry jumped out the other side of the van. He was smiling. It wasn’t a pleased to see you, we’ve really missed you, sorry about hitting you with my belt, I’ll never touch you again, I swear smile.

  Oh no. It was the look a cat gets when it pounces on a fledgling. His eyes were gleaming but they were like slithers of green glass.

  ‘Well, well, well, it’s Treasure!’ he said. ‘You’ve led us a merry dance today, sweetheart. Still, we’ve got you now.’

  They’ll never ever get me. I was up and off, on the skateboard, one mad thrust of my left foot and then I was careering past him, past Mum, past Bethany and Kyle peering boggle-eyed from the van, while Willie and Patsy and the kid who owned the skateboard all yelled after me.

  I swooped along wildly towards Nan’s block. I heard Terry and Mum piling back into the van, slamming the doors, starting up the engine ready to come after me. I aimed the skateboard towards the steps where the van couldn’t follow me.

  Mumbly Michael was throwing bundles of rubbish away in the dark dustbin recess. He stopped, his glasses glinting as he saw me flying along, Terry in the van after me, Willie and Patsy shouting their heads off. I slid off the skateboard and made it to the steps. I started to run up – but this hand shot out in the dark and grabbed my wrist.

  I gasped and tugged but the hand hung on. It was Michael mumbling something at me. I thought he was saying ‘hi’ over and over – but then I got it. He was saying ‘hide’. So I stayed there in the dark with him, hiding in the smelly dustbin recess. I heard Terry go leaping up the stairs two at a time towards Nan’s, everyone following him.

  I clung onto Michael. He held me quietly, gently patting my back with the pads of his fingers. We stood silently while the footsteps grew fainter – and then far away I heard hammering on Nan’s door and shouting, lots of shouting, Terry, Mum, Willie, then Nan. Another door banged and Mrs Watkins joined in too.

  ‘Mum!’ said Michael. ‘My mum, nag nag nag.’ He paused. ‘That man chasing you. Is he your dad?’

  ‘No! He’s just my mum’s bloke. I hate him. He’s trying to get me back. Oh, Michael, what am I going to do? He’ll be after me again in a minute.’

  ‘Run for it,’ said Michael. ‘I wish I could run for it. Run from my mum.’

  I’d thought he loved his mum. Maybe he only stayed because he didn’t have any place else to go.

  ‘You come too,’ I said.

  I was so scared I needed someone, anyone, even Michael. He clasped my hand and went out the dustbin recess, blinking in the sudden bright light. We ran round the edge of the courtyard, keeping close to the wall so Terry couldn’t look down from the balcony and spot us. We got all the way round to the end of our Elm block and on up to Sycamore and Beech.

  ‘What are you up to, Michael?’ one woman said, as we dodged past her. ‘Hey, come back! What will your mum say?’

  ‘Don’t care,’ Michael panted. He was slowing down now, gasping for breath, his big face bright red and sweating.

  He leant against the wall, shutting his eyes.

  ‘Come on, Michael, quick! He’ll come after us!’

  Michael’s chest was heaving up and down.

  ‘I . . . can’t.’

  ‘You can. Run!’

  ‘You run. I’m . . .’ He gestured to show he didn’t have the breath – or the bottle.

  I couldn’t waste any more time persuading him.

  ‘OK. Thanks then. Bye.’

  I was much quicker without him, off in a flash, round every corner, out of the estate in a jiffy, veering down side roads to throw Terry off the trail. I was running like crazy but I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t run for ever. I didn’t have any money left. I couldn’t even go back to McDonald’s.

  I went back to Marianne’s, making up a whole deal in my head, ready to offer her a total babycare service, plus all the cooking and cleaning, if she’d just let me kip on her sofa for a bit. But she didn’t answer her door even though I banged and banged. I knew she was in there, with her boyfriend. I tried begging her through the letterbox but she took no notice.

  I gave up and trailed off, my toes stubbed at every step in my tight boots. My tummy felt like it was tipping right over. I had to nip down an alleyway to be sick. I tried hard to do it neatly but I couldn’t help some of it splashing on my lovely new red coat. I nearly cried then.

  I wondered whether to give up and go back to Nan’s. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad back at my old home. Maybe if I learnt to button my lip Terry wouldn’t go for me so much. Maybe I could make myself so useful with the kids and the housework Mum would start loving me at last. Maybe Kyle would stop kicking me and Bethany and I would be best friends.

  I knew it was all rubbish. And if I went back they’d never let me stay at Nan’s again.

  I’d never see India either.

  India.

  I thought hard, mopping at my coat with a little wad of tissue. I stood on one foot and then the other to ease the pain of my sore toes. I argued it out in my head.

  I could go to India.

  No, I couldn’t. She lived in Parkfield.

  So? I could go and visit her. She’d been round to visit me.

  Yes, but that was different. I couldn’t just turn up on her doorstep. I didn’t even know which house she lived in.

  I could find out.

  I couldn’t go round like this, all scruffy and stained. Her mum would have a fit. She was posh. She’d treat me like dirt.

  India wouldn’t. She was
my friend.

  I went on saying it over and over as I limped along towards Parkfield. I didn’t know which bit of Parkfield to aim at. It was bigger than I’d thought, street after street of these huge posh houses, but they weren’t called streets, they were avenues and drives and closes. It all seemed so empty. There are always kids playing out on the Latimer Estate and old ladies having a moan and old men having a curse and a spit and lads larking and girls giggling and there are dogs all over even though the council says you’re not allowed pets.

  I couldn’t see a single kid playing out in Parkfield, not even skipping in their lovely landscaped gardens. Perhaps the old people were sellotaped to the sofas inside their granny flats and all the children banished to boarding school. Everyone is hidden away.

  I’m hidden too!

  Twelve

  India

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE it!

  I had Treasure on my mind all through tea. I kept thinking of that horrible man and how he could hurt her. It made me feel so bad I couldn’t eat much. I wouldn’t really have fancied it anyway. It was one of Mum’s special salads, a circle of cottage cheese in the centre of the plate, then a ring of pineapple, then carrot, cucumber and celery sticks like petals on a flower, then a fan of lettuce leaves either side, artistically arranged in shades of green and purple.

  I nibbled the chunks of pineapple and left the rest.

  ‘India? Why aren’t you eating your salad?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Mum gave a silly laugh.

  ‘Nonsense, darling, you’re always hungry.’

  ‘OK, OK, I’m always hungry,’ I said. ‘Only I just don’t happen to be ravenous at this precise moment in time. And I doubt if a totally starving person would ever eat a mound of cottage cheese with gusto. Especially as it looks as if it’s been eaten already and regurgitated by an anaemic alien.’