Kitabı oku: «The Glitter Collection», sayfa 10
“Sure,” he says, his head burrowed into his sketchpad, “see you in a while.”
I dart into a book shop and buy Max a little book all about nature to cheer him up and to say sorry for being so horrible. It’s full of pictures that he can copy with not too many difficult words to read. Then I head to my favourite accessories store to get Isla a sparkly purse. Then, just as I’m about to leave the shop, Mandy steps in my way.
“You’ve got a lot of things in your bags, Tiffany Morris,” she spits. “Sure you’ve remembered to pay for it all?”
“I d-d-did,” I stutter. “I did pay for it. I’ve got the receipts.”
“Just checking,” she says.
I’m getting tired of this and want to ask her once and for all what her problem is. But my bold words shrivel in my mouth and I swallow them down.
“I need to go,” I mumble, pushing past. “I have to meet my auntie.”
Out in the street I find Max waiting for me, still sketching away.
“I saw Mandy and she had another go at me,” I say. “What is it with her?”
I wish I could tell him all about it. I wish I could tell him that my mum’s in prison and that I hate her for it. And that Holly knows my secret and is bullying me. I wish I could tell him all about how I had a dog for a day and that I miss her as much as if I’d had her for a hundred years. I wish I could tell him the truth, get it off my chest, and get it out of my mind. Lying to Max doesn’t feel good. It was OK at first because he was just a weird boy who I didn’t care about, but now he’s starting to feel like a friend.
Maybe I’ll tell him soon, but right now I need something to send to my mum (Aunt Cassie insisted) and something for my grandpa and grandma.
“OK,” I say to Max. “What do you buy grandparents who you’ve never even met?”
Before Max can answer, I have an idea. I drag him into a gift shop and we find two picture frames the exact right size for his sketchbook pages. One is mosaic, made from tiny little bits of shiny glass, and the other is wooden and plain.
“How much would you charge to draw two portraits of me?” I ask.
“Ahh, Madame,” he says, with a mock French accent, “for you, I sink one milkshake at Kristina’s and a batch of your ’omemade chocolate brownies would seal the deal.”
“Done,” I say, shaking his hand.
Chapter 23
hello, hello, hello…
It’s two days before Christmas and everything is ready. Our tree is twinkling, the big log fire is roaring away and Uncle Dan is putting the finishing touches to our special welcome-home lunch for my grandparents. My tummy feels queasy. I’ve never had to welcome anyone home before. Except my mum when she’s been out on one of her girly nights with Bianca, and that usually involves making her some strong black coffee and settling her into bed. But this is different. This family stuff is new to me. I’m wearing my new top and belt that I bought in Guernsey and a pair of jeans that Auntie Cass got for me. I keep hopping about from one foot to the other not really knowing what to do with myself.
I try to keep Indigo busy by making some paper chains, but she’s leaping about pretending to be a Christmas fairy and doesn’t want to sit down. She’s making me feel even more agitated. I’ve never had grandparents before, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like. I don’t know if I should shake their hands and be all stuffy and polite or if they’re going to be all disgusting and huggy and squish me in a big bear-hug and slobber wet kisses on my cheek. I asked Max what it’s like having grandparents, but he was useless. He just said it felt normal. But I don’t know what normal is any more.
“Hello, hello, hello,” booms a big voice in the hallway. “Anyone at home?”
Everyone runs into the hall. Indigo is flapping about and a man with a face as brown as a chestnut, and a big gold chain hanging from his neck, scoops her up into the air and swings her around.
“Hello, my little princess,” he says, “what’s Grandpa got here for you then?” And he magics a cupcake from behind her ear, making her squeal and leap about in his arms. Being five looks so much easier than being twelve.
“And look at you,” he says, turning to me. “Eh, Margie,” he says to a tanned lady with shiny silvery hair and a million diamonds on her fingers. “Look at her, would you believe it?” And they both just stare at me. I shuffle from foot to foot and make a tiny wave with my hand.
“I’m sorry, m’darling,” he says, launching me into a twirl. “Shouldn’t stare at you like that. It’s just I’m gobsmacked, we both are. You look the double of your mum when she was your age. What do you think Margie? Eh?”
“Oh, give her here,” she says pulling me into a Grandma bear-hug. She starts patting me and stroking me and kissing me like crazy. Tears are spilling over her black-mascara eyes and running on to her rosy cheeks.
Then Grandpa wells up again, his eyes all sparkly with joy. “Would you Adam and Eve it?” he says. “I’ve never seen anything like it in me life. It’s like you’ve spun us back a few years and your mum’s just walked in from school. Come ’ere again,” he smiles, joining in my Grandma hug. “I’m the happiest man alive.”
Then tears start streaming down my cheeks too, and I don’t know why, but they’re happy tears, not sad tears. They’re happy tears that don’t need wiping away. And then we all hug together. Auntie Cass and Uncle Dan join in and Indigo squirrels her way into the middle and we all stand there hugging and breathing each other in. I can feel the love from my family seeping into my bones. It scares me. I can’t trust them, can I? What if they let me down like Mum? I pull away and scowl.
“What this?” says my grandpa, ignoring my scowl and fiddling behind my ear. Then he pulls out a magic cupcake for me too and I know that I have to let my new family right into my heart.
On Christmas Eve the hotel is busy with families celebrating, and it’s all hands on deck. I’m running backwards and forwards like a mad thing with dirty plates and glasses. Uncle Dan and Auntie Cass are busy in the kitchen. My grandpa and grandma are running the bar and Indigo is entertaining everyone with her Christmas fairy dance.
“Just like the old days,” smiles Grandpa, bursting into song.
After midnight mass in the church, Max, Isla and I huddle together and exchange our presents. Max gives me a flat parcel, with two thin bumps in the middle, wrapped in green shiny paper. And Isla gives me a squishy one wrapped in red paper with shiny silver bows. I give them their presents, which are wrapped in snowman paper with red sparkly ties. Holly’s green eyes hover on the edge of our little group, sending jealous poison arrows through the air. Isla hops over and gives her a present too, and I see Holly smile and think how much prettier she looks when she’s happy.
After everyone’s wished everyone a merry Christmas I troop home with my family under a black and starry sky. Indigo fell asleep ages ago and is snoozing soundly in Uncle Dan’s arms, and Auntie Cass has a sleepy, faraway look on her face that reminds me of my mum. I’m in the middle of my very own grandpa and grandma who are holding on to me tightly, like they never want to let me go.
“Look at the stars, Tiffany,” Grandpa says. “Special Sarkian stars, like twinkling stardust, falling into your eyes.”
I look up, and a million twinkling stars are falling on me like silver rain kissing my face.
“Do you know, Tiff,” he smiles, “I think you’re the best Christmas present an old man like me could ever wish for.”
I don’t want to push his kind words away but it’s still so hard.
“I know this is all very difficult for you, babe,” he says. “I know your mum’s hurt you a lot and you’re probably feeling angry and scared and all alone in the world. But I need to tell you that you’re not, Tiff. You’ve got us now, and I promise you’re never gonna be left alone again. Your Auntie Cass and Uncle Dan are doing their best, babe. You’ve gotta give ’em a chance. Know what I mean?”
I nod.
“And your mum’s not all bad, is she? She might not be perfect, and she’s certainly got herself into a big pickle this time, but she does love you, Tiff, I’m sure of that.”
Tiny little star tears slip on to my cheeks because I know what he’s saying is true.
“You’re part of our family now, Tiff, and there’s no doubting that. I’d ’ave picked you out of a crowd of a million, you look so much like your mum. Come ’ere,” he says, and he lifts me up, like I was a five-year-old again and hugs me tight. I hug him back and bury my face in his warm neck. Then my grandma joins in too, and I know for sure that I’m in the right place. That I’m home at last.
When I’m all tucked up in bed, I pick up the photo of my mum and me and kiss her face and stroke her ice-blonde hair. I try to imagine what Christmas in prison must be like. I wonder if she’ll have a proper Christmas dinner and if they even have a tree. When will she be allowed to open the cards and presents that we sent to her? I wonder if she’s lonely, thinking of us all here together. My anger melts into a heavy kind of sad puddle that’s lying in my chest. I feel guilty. I’m beginning to like it here. I’m beginning to like having a new life and a new family and although I do miss my mum, I don’t miss how our life was. I don’t miss everything being so unpredictable all the time. I don’t miss her going out at night and leaving me alone. And I don’t miss worrying about her wandering fingers and being embarrassed about her stealing.
I draw a little heart on the picture glass and give it wings to make it fly. I blow my hand and watch it zoom through the window, out into the Sarkian stars. I watch it whizzing across the cold, dark sea and all the way to London, to my mum in her grey prison cell. I imagine her catching it and tucking it under her covers and hugging it tight. I tuck our photo under my covers and cuddle it tight too, and it almost feels like we’re together again.
Chapter 24
it’s chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiist-maaaaaaaaasssssssss…
Indigo comes charging into my room at the crack of dawn.
“Gwake up, Tiff,” she squeals. “It’s Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaassssss!”
“OK, OK,” I say, pulling a hoodie on over my pyjamas. “Let’s go see what Santa left for us, shall we?”
We race downstairs into the sitting room. It’s piled high with presents for everyone, glittering under the tree. I switch on the fairy lights and unhook two fat stockings that are swinging from the mantelpiece. Indigo and I scoff the chocolates from our stockings and watch Christmas TV while we wait for everyone else to wake up.
“I glove you, Tiff,” she says in her thumb-speak, snuggling up on my lap.
“I love you too,” I say, feeding her another mini chocolate Santa. “And I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit mean.”
After our proper breakfast, when everyone’s showered and dressed, Grandpa clinks a spoon against a glass, calling for everyone’s attention.
“Now family,” he laughs, “before we get down to some serious present opening, I think we all need a little breath of fresh air. What do you think Cass, Dan, Margie?”
Uncle Dan winks, “Good idea.” He smiles.
“Gno!” shrieks Indigo. “Presents! Presents!”
I don’t really want fresh air, either, but this style of Christmas is new to me, so I stand on the edge and smile. Grandpa leads the way, and we all head out through the garden toward the derelict barn. It’s a cold, crisp day and I’d rather be inside, toasting by the fire. The sky is bright blue and the sun is smiling down. A quiet hush has wrapped itself around our little island and only the church bells break its spell. We trudge past the barn and go through the gate that leads on to one of our fields. In the distance I can see silver tinsel dancing on the breeze and shining in the sun. Then I notice what the tinsel is attached to, and Indigo does too. I gasp and hold my breath, not quite believing, and Indigo squeals and leaps into Grandpa’s arms.
A tiny brown pony is bobbing its way towards us and a bigger dapple-grey pony is trotting along beside.
“Look what Father Christmas left for my two little princesses, then,” says Grandpa, finding magic apples behind our ears.
For a moment, I can’t actually quite believe that the dapple-grey pony standing in front of me is actually mine. I have to keep blinking and pinching myself to make sure it’s true. And a part of me is scared in case someone takes her away.
Grandpa puts his arm round my shoulder. “She really is yours Tiff, I promise, and no one’s going to take her away.”
I hold out my hand to make friends with my pony. Her muzzle is soft and her gentle eyes are warm and calm. I move closer and she snorts, tickling pony breath into my ears and muzzling close, inviting me to stroke her. I gently hug her, giving her time to get used to me, and rest my cold cheek on her warm neck, breathing her in. I thread my fingers through her creamy mane, plaiting us together, making us friends, forever. Now I’m completely excited and fizzing all over and tears are welling up in my eyes. I’m so surprised I can hardly breathe, but somehow the words “Thank you” escape from my lips and dance on the breeze. I never, ever dreamed I’d ever have a pony of my own and here she is, all mine.
In a flash I realise that I’m not a London girl any more, who lives in a flat and shops all the time and goes out for slap-up meals. I’m a country girl who likes outside and stars and who really is friends with a weird tree-house boy and a kind girl who likes to keep everyone happy but herself.
After we’ve patted and stroked our ponies some more and fed them their Christmas apples, we tear ourselves away and go back to the house. I text Max and Isla to tell them my exciting news and to say sorry for being such a rubbish friend. When we’ve opened all our other presents and eaten our humongus lunch and played silly party games and checked on our ponies at least seven hundred times, I slip away to my room.
I have a very important letter to write.
Dear Mum,
Happy Christmas. I love you, but I’ve been angry with you lately. I was scared with everything changing so fast. I feel a bit better now, although I still don’t understand why you did what you did.
Grandpa and Grandma are amazing, they remind me of you, all blond and bling and loud and funny. Santa brought me a pony and one for Indigo too. Mine’s a dapple-grey cob called Stardust and Indigo’s is a tiny Shetland pony called Cupcake. Auntie Cass is going to teach me to ride, and for Christmas she bought me a riding hat and all the stuff I need. She is lovely, and even though I haven’t been very kind to her, she’s looking after me really well.
There’s this old barn here that Uncle Dan keeps going on about wanting to do up. It is gross and mouldy at the moment, but he wants to turn it into a shiny new home for us, for when you come out of prison. And I haven’t wanted it until today, but I’ve got Stardust now and the barn looks out over the field where she lives, so I would be able to keep a good eye on her. Pleeeaassssseeeee can we stay here?
I hope you like the recording of my school concert that we sent you and the portrait of me. My friend Max drew it and I hope you’re not angry that I cut my hair. I had to do it, I’m sorry, but I’m growing it long again now. And I hope that your Christmas is fun and that you’re not too sad.
Come home soon, Mum, please.
You and me, Mum. You and me xxxxxxxxxxxx
