Читать книгу Sadie - Jane Elliott - Страница 8

The afternoon passed slowly. Sadie sat at the back of the class with Carly and Anna, her chin resting in the palm of her hand; she stared into space as the teacher at the front droned on and on, his monotonous lesson frequently punctuated by barks of reprimand and tellings-off. It was a typical Friday afternoon.

Carly slipped a note under the table. Her childish handwriting asked Sadie in misspelled English if she still wanted to come round to her house after school. Sadie thought about writing a reply, but instead she just whispered back.

‘Can’t,’ she told her friend. ‘Mum says I’ve got to go back home.’

Carly shot her a surprised look, and Sadie understood why. Her mum never told her when she should be back.

Even when Sadie was younger, she had been allowed to wander round the estate by herself. People came to expect it of her. She was forever knocking on doors, fixing her neighbours with her most appealing smile and flogging whatever goods or goodies her dad had a run on that particular week. She understood how difficult grown-ups found it to refuse such a chirpy young girl and she’d got a taste for it. She would always come home, of course, but she never had to be told.

After the funeral, though, things started to become a bit different. Mum would still never tell her when to be home, and at first that was just because it was the way things had always been. But the loss of her man hit Jackie Burrows hard. Sadie would never forget the first time she got back after school to find her drunk. The bottle of cheap vodka on the smoked-glass coffee table wasn’t quite empty, but it wasn’t far off. An ashtray was full of stubs, and the television was on. Sadie’s mum was comatose on the sofa and, try though she might, the little girl couldn’t rouse her. She shook her, tears streaming down her face and crying at her to wake up; but when she did open her eyes, they just rolled unconsciously to the top of her head before closing again. Sadie had been on the point of calling an ambulance when her mother rolled off the sofa and started vomiting on the carpet.

It had taken her two days to get back on her feet again. Sadie stayed away from school to nurse her, bringing her glasses of water and painkillers. Jackie had begged her daughter not to be angry with her, but Sadie was not angry. In her childlike way she understood. At times mother and daughter held each other and cried and cried, but they never spoke of their sadness. How would they have known what to say?

Since then Jackie had never been that bad. But for several months not a day went by when Sadie didn’t come home to find the ever-open bottle of vodka depleted and the ashtray brimming over. And more than once, when the booze had run out and Jackie was in no state to leave the house, she handed Sadie one of the precious ten-pound notes that arrived in her purse courtesy of the benefits office, and begged, ‘Get us a bottle of voddy, love.’

The first time it happened, Sadie was reluctant. ‘I can’t, Mum. I’m not old enough.’

But Mum looked imploringly at her, a horrible, pitiful desperation in her eyes, and Sadie agreed because she didn’t know what else to do. She took the money down to the off-licence with the grey metal grilles on the front where on a number of occasions she had gone with her dad to sell cheap cases of spirits. The first time she tried to buy vodka the owner had been nervous; but she told him it was for her mum, and she soon ceased to have any problem.

Jackie’s habit grew from bad to worse, and soon she was able to drink the same quantities she had that first time without the devastating effect.

And then, a few months ago, it simply stopped. Sadie returned home one day to discover that for the first time in ages her mum had dealt with the washing – a job Sadie had taken over in some unspoken agreement, knowing that if she didn’t she’d just have to wear dirty clothes. Jackie had folded the clothes and placed them on the kitchen table, and as Sadie walked in, her satchel slung over her shoulder, Mum was standing proudly by her handiwork, dressed and sober. She almost managed to look proud of what she had achieved. No matter that the dirty dishes were piled in the sink; no matter that the house stank of cigarettes. Sadie could tell it was a turning point.

That night Jackie even went out. Sadie lay alone in the darkness of her bedroom, wondering where she was and waiting for her to come back, but towards midnight sleep overtook her; she awoke the next morning to find her mum still asleep. She left for school quietly, without waking her up.

At first Jackie’s evening outings were few and far between. But as the weeks passed, Sadie found herself alone in the house of an evening increasingly frequently. Now and then she would ask her mum where she had been, but Jackie would reply evasively. She was lonely in the house by herself at night, and the creaks and cracks that always sounded ten times louder when the lights were off were frightening. But she never said anything to Mum: she was just glad she had stopped drinking. And when they did spend time together, there would be kisses and cuddles and affection; sometimes they even managed to talk about Dad without crying.

Life was getting better. They were going to be OK. Just the two of them.

The bell rang for the end of school, and there was a sudden cacophony of chair-scraping. Sadie closed the book that she had not glanced at since the start of the lesson and tossed it into her satchel. Most of her share of the chocolate bars she had pinched that morning were still in there, she noticed, as she heard Carly speak.

‘So, why does your mum want you home?’

‘Dunno,’ Sadie shrugged, affecting less interest than she felt.

They wandered out into the corridor and walked towards the exit.

By the time they got there, most of the other kids had left. As they walked through the school gates, Sadie saw little Jamie Brown, the boy she had helped in the playground. He seemed to be in a world of his own, scuffing his shoes as he shuffled along and humming dreamily to himself in that tuneless way that always attracted so much derision from the other kids.

‘You all right, Jamie?’ she asked as they passed.

Jamie looked up as though noticing the girls for the first time – which he probably was. The pungent odour of stale urine hit Sadie’s nose, and she did her best to stop her distaste from showing in her face; but next to her she heard Carly’s voice, half-choking, half-sniggering. She glanced at her in momentary annoyance and then turned her attention back to Jamie. As soon as he had heard Carly, he had hung his head straight back down and started to walk away, his cheek twitching nervously. Sadie strode after him. As she did so, and on a whim, she thrust her hand into her satchel and brought out a bar of chocolate. She shoved it into Jamie’s hand. ‘Here you go,’ she told him. ‘You can have this.’

Jamie stopped once more and stared in astonishment at the foil wrapper in his hand. He looked to Sadie as though he had never seen a bar of chocolate in his life.

‘Go on,’ Sadie said to him, half laughing. ‘It’s not poison.’

A look of indecision crossed the little boy’s face, but eventually he shook his head and handed it back to Sadie. ‘No thanks,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I can’t.’

Sadie and Carly shared a surprised glance.

‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ Carly asked. ‘She just gave it to you, didn’t she?’

‘I’m not allowed,’ Jamie said firmly, handing the chocolate bar back.

‘Who says?’ Sadie asked him gently.

‘My mum.’

Sadie looked at him in confusion. ‘But it’s only a bit of chocolate.’

‘Yeah, but I’m still not allowed.’

‘But she won’t know.’

Jamie looked away, embarrassment shadowing his face. ‘Yeah, she will. She always knows. She gets … angry.’ As he said the word ‘angry’, his voice went hoarse.

Sadie and Carly stood awkwardly, unable to think what to say.

‘Anyway,’ Jamie mumbled, his voice a little aggressive now, ‘it’s nothing to do with you.’ And he strode off, walking with more purpose than before and resolutely not looking back.

‘Weirdo,’ Carly observed, but without much conviction. Sadie said nothing.

It was a ten-minute walk back to the estate, and the two girls remained quiet all the way home. Sadie couldn’t speak for Carly, but she had been shocked by the look on Jamie’s face when he spoke of his mother. It was a look of sadness, certainly, but also of confusion and fear. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to feel those emotions when you were going home.

That thought brought her mother’s farewell words this morning back to her: ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ An involuntary smile flickered across Sadie’s face – like all children, she liked surprises. She liked the anticipation. And most of all, she liked the idea that her mum had thought about doing something for her. It was like the old times, when her dad would arrange little treats for her if he’d made a bit of money.

As they arrived on the outskirts of the estate, Sadie and Carly said goodbye and went their separate ways. In the bright afternoon sunshine, the faceless grey tower blocks almost managed to look cheery, and Sadie continued to daydream as she wandered home, her mind full of what-ifs. What if she were to get back to find the flat as it used to be: full of boxes and the life that her dad breathed into the place? What if they were going out, to the cinema, or McDonald’s? Maybe her mum had rented a video from the shop, and bought them Coca-Cola and crisps.

She wandered up the pathway, put her key in the door and walked inside.

Jackie stood in the kitchen. It was a large room, big enough for a dining table, which they never used. As Sadie stood in the door, her always-present satchel hanging around her neck, she blinked in astonishment. When she had left this morning, the sink had been brimming with dirty plates and pans, and Sadie fully expected to find it so when she returned. Jackie might have kicked the booze, but she was still a long way from being the perfect mum, and it was just a matter of course now for her to have to wash up whatever she needed when she made her sandwich for tea. But this afternoon, the kitchen was pristine. Even the large ashtray had been emptied, although Jackie still had a long, slim cigarette burning between her fingers.

‘Are they new trousers, Mum?’ Sadie asked, a bit disconsolately, as she had been telling her that she needed new school shoes for ages now.

‘Oxfam.’ Jackie smiled a little nervously, stubbed out the half-smoked ciggie and walked forward to embrace her daughter. She planted a kiss on Sadie’s cheek, and the girl turned to look at her mum in suspicious amusement. Mum never kissed her when she got home from school – it just wasn’t something she did.

‘What’s going on, Mum?’ she asked, removing the satchel from round her neck and plonking it in the middle of the floor.

Jackie took her daughter by the hand. ‘Come with me, love,’ she said, unable to hide the quiver in her voice. ‘I want you to meet someone.’

She led Sadie through the kitchen and into the sitting room. As she did so, Sadie felt a lurch in her stomach. Her childish instinct told her what was coming.

The man standing in their sitting room had very closely cropped hair. His face was slightly round and clean-shaven, and his sideburns were sharp and angular. There was a scar, about an inch long, above his right eye, and his lips were pale and pursed. He wore brown trousers, pleated below the waist in such a way that they gave the impression of hiding a bit of tummy, and a pale blue shirt that complimented his piercing eyes. It was his eyes that struck Sadie most of all. They were surrounded by black bags and stared straight at her with a flatness that seemed to contradict the thin smile that spread across his face.

And within seconds of seeing him, she realized that she had met him before. That very morning. He was the man who had sent the shopkeeper packing. The man who had stopped her copping it.

She stared at him awkwardly, her dark eyes narrowing a little and the inside of her mouth suddenly becoming dry. Then she heard her mum speaking.

‘Sadie,’ she said in an emphatically friendly voice, like a hostess introducing two people at a party, ‘I want you to meet Allen.’

She waited for Sadie to say something, but Sadie didn’t.

‘Say hello, Sadie, love. And remember your manners. Allen’s going to be your new dad.’