Читать книгу Shine - Kate Maryon, Kate Maryon - Страница 12

a whole lake of tears is welling…

We drive to the police station. Benita shows me to the toilets and then sits me in a room with a brown plastic table and orange chairs. Chardonnay’s still wriggling but she hasn’t made a sound yet. She’s such a good dog.

“Can I get you a cup of tea, or some water?”

“No thanks,” I say. “When can I see my mum and go home?”

“Tiffany,” she says, kneeling down beside me and taking my hand, “I’m really sorry, but we have to keep Mum here for a bit; until things are sorted out.”

“What about me?” I croak.

“Well,” she says, in a trying-to-be-kind voice, “as it’s so late and there’s no one for us to call at this stage, we’ve had to ask social services to send a social worker who will find somewhere for you to stay tonight. Then tomorrow we’ll be able to take a fresh look at things. Mum knows what’s happening to you and she knows that you’ll be safe.”

A whole lake of tears wells and quivers up through my body and tries to escape from my eyes. But I won’t let it. I blink a lot and sniff into the tissue. Then I hear my mum’s voice screaming away in another room, saying lots of swear words, calling out for me. Chardonnay hears her too because she starts scrabbling about in the bag. I pat her down to try and keep her quiet.

“What have you got in there, love?” asks Benita.

“Nothing.”

“Sure?” she asks, not believing me. And then Chardonnay takes a leap and starts yelping and my bag tumbles to the ground.

Benita picks up the bag and takes a peep inside.

“Look what we’ve got in here,” she says, holding Chardonnay in the air. Then Chardonnay decides that she can’t hold on to her wee any more and it trickles on to the floor.

“Sorry,” I say.

“No problem, Tiffany, I’ll buzz for someone to come and mop it up.”

Benita presses a red button on the wall.

“As for you,” she says, ruffling Chardonnay’s fluff, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to put you in kennels for the night.”

My lake of tears starts pushing up again. I blink hard because I won’t let myself cry.

“Can’t she come with me?” I ask, “Please? We only just got her and she hasn’t even had one whole night with us yet.”

“I’m sorry, but no one will take on you and a puppy as an emergency at this time of night. But don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of her – promise.”

The lump in my throat rises up again and I can’t swallow it down. Now I know how Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz feels when the nasty neighbour tries to take her dog, Toto, away. I can’t lose my puppy, not now that I’ve finally got her. Why can’t my mum sort this mess out and take us home? Surely there’s something she can do? Chardonnay’ll be scared. And lonely.

I can hear my mum’s voice travelling down the corridor. She’s screaming and shouting and having one of her full-blown temper tantrums.

“If I could just see my mum before I go, I’d be able to calm her down for you,” I say quietly.

“I’m not sure it’s allowed,” Benita says.

“Please?”

A teeny river pushes its way out and stings my cheek. I rub my eye pretending I have an eyelash in it.

Benita pats my shoulder. “You stay here and I’ll see what I can do, I’ll just be a sec.”

She leaves the room and my ears fill with the sound of keys clattering and doors clunking and Mum shouting. I look at my watch. It’s one o’clock in the morning.

“You can have five minutes,” says Benita, coming back into the room, “I’ve spoken to the sergeant and he says you can pop in to say a quick goodnight to your mum.”

I feel all jelly again, and I’m shaking all over. My heart’s pounding. We walk down the grey corridor towards my mum’s shouting. Benita thumps the door, I hear some keys jangling and we’re in. I fly into Mum’s arms and we squeeze each other tight, holding on, not wanting to let go.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she sobs into my hair, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

I cling on, breathe in her smell, and snuggle into her warmth.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave me, Mum.”

She sobs and sobs and I worry that she’ll never be able to stop. She clings on so tight that her nails dig in. The big policeman standing near the door coughs and I remember that I don’t have long to make her feel better.

“Remember your mascara, Mum,” I say. I lick my tissue and mop up her face. “You don’t want to go around looking like a mess, do you? What would Bianca say, eh, Mum?”

She pulls herself together. I untangle her hair, take her face in my hands and kiss her on the nose.

“Now come on, Mum, all this screaming and shouting isn’t going to get us anywhere, is it?” I soothe.

“Sorry, Tiff,” she sniffs, “I’ll be good. I promise.

It was all Mikey’s fault. You do believe me, Tiff, don’t you? Just give me a bit of time to sort this mess out and we’ll be back home together before you can say ‘wizard’.”

I don’t know what to believe any more. But I know it’s not normal to be in a police station with my mum in the middle of the night. And I know I’m the only one in the world who can calm her down. And I’m boiling mad inside because our life is always about her.

“What about me?” I whisper. “What happens to me and Chardonnay while you’re sorting it all out?”

“I promise you, Tiff, it won’t be for long and I’ll come and pick you both up as soon as I can.”

“But, Mum, please!”

“There’s nothing I can do, babe. Nothing.”

Suddenly a brilliant idea pops into my mind. “Except…except maybe you could telephone someone…on Sark?”

“Don’t even go there, Tiff, I’ve told you before.”

“But it has to be worth a try, Mum, please?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Tiff, it’s been too long. They may have moved away years ago. I can’t just call out of the blue when I’m in trouble and ask for help, can I?”

“But, Mum, this is about me as well. It’s not just about you. I’m going to be sent off to a foster home, alone. They’re my family too, they’re not just yours.”

My mum drags her hand through her hair.

“OK,” she sniffs, “I’ll do my best, Tiff, I promise.”

The policeman tells us our time is up. I put the plug in my feelings and pull away. “Now be good and do what they tell you,” I say. “No more tantrums.”

“No more tantrums,” Mum echoes.

Benita takes hold of my hand and heads for the door; Mum holds the other one, not wanting to let me go. They’re both hanging on, tugging gently. Mum’s hand and mine slide apart until we’re just touching fingertips, until there’s just space between us, and then she crumples in a heap on her orange chair.

“I love you, babe,” she whispers.

“I love you, Mum.”