Stevie was kind, but she didn’t have a clue. I didn’t have any of my own stuff with me. She gave me a toothbrush and a silly flannel – it was a tiny scrunched-up square until she put it in water and it grew. Stevie expected me to be enchanted, as if I was Pixie’s age. I didn’t have any nightclothes so I had to go to bed in someone’s Batman pyjamas. Stupid superheroes fought around me all night while I lay awake, sending frantic thought messages to Bliss and Baxter and Pixie.
I got up very early, wondering if I could creep out now before anyone was around, but Stevie had taken my T-shirt and jeans – she’d even taken my trainers.
I went stomping downstairs in my embarrassing boy pyjamas. I found her in the kitchen with one of her sidekicks, both of them dressed in T-shirts and trackie bottoms.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ said Stevie. ‘Sleep OK?’
‘No. And someone’s stolen all my stuff!’
‘Your utterly filthy jeans and T-shirt stuff?’ said Stevie, pointing to a whole load of clothes airing on a huge rack. ‘And did they steal your trainers too?’ She pointed to my trainers, toe-to-toe on a sheet of newspaper, scrubbed free of mud and whitened so they looked brand new.
‘Oh,’ I said. I struggled. ‘Thank you.’
I didn’t want to be grateful to her. I wanted her to be horrible and then I could blame her for everything, even though I knew this was ridiculous.
‘If you’re going to be here a little while we’ll have to get your clothes from home, or sort you out with some new stuff,’ said Stevie. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got any girls’ skirts for school, so you’ll have to go in your jeans today. I bet all the other kids will envy you like crazy.’
‘What?’ I stared at her. ‘I’m not going to school!’
It seemed a totally ludicrous idea, but Stevie stood firm.
‘You go to Oakleaf Primary, don’t you? It’s not too far away. Most of our boys go to Wilton Road, but we can drop you off afterwards.’
‘Stevie, you’re mad,’ I said rudely. ‘My mum might have been sent straight to prison, my sister’s seriously ill in hospital, my brother and baby sister are stuck with a complete stranger, and you tell me I’ve got to go to school, like it’s an ordinary day.’
‘I’m not mad, sweetie. I know just how you feel but I think it would be best to do something ordinary, like going to school.’
‘You don’t have a clue how I feel. And stop calling me sweetie, it sounds stupid. I bet you’re just saying it because you’ve forgotten my name.’
‘You’re Lily – and you’re quite unforgettable,’ said Stevie.
I thought if I argued long enough she’d give in, or lose her temper, and then we could have a stand-up fight, but she just kept telling me calmly I was going to school and that was that. It was weird having a proper breakfast sitting down at a long table with all the unruly boys and surly little Sharon. I ate a few cornflakes and half a slice of toast and sipped at a cup of tea.
I felt a bit sick in the mini-van, being driven off to school with all the boys. When we got to Oakleaf Stevie insisted on coming right into the playground with me, to the headteacher’s office. I can’t stick Mrs Symes, our head, and she’s never thought much of me either.
‘Oh dear, what have you been up to now, Lily Green?’ she said, when she saw me standing beside Stevie.
‘She hasn’t done anything, Mrs Symes. I just need to have a little chat with you. Lily, perhaps you could wait outside, love?’ said Stevie.
I put my head against the door and tried to listen, of course, but Stevie kept her voice down. Mrs Symes was easier to hear because she’s got one of those booming voices that reach right to the back of the school hall. I heard ‘that mother’ and ‘problem family’ and ‘doesn’t surprise me in the least’.
I hated her, I hated her, I hated her. The bell went off for morning school, clanging right through my head. I made a bolt down the hall, but Mrs Symes opened her door and spotted me.
‘Lily Green! Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To my classroom, Mrs Symes, because the bell went,’ I said.
‘Oh. Well, walk, don’t run,’ said Mrs Symes.
‘Bye, Lily. I’ll come and meet you this afternoon,’ Stevie called.
She was acting like my jailer, determined to stop me going off to see the kids.
I stomped down the corridor, children staring at my jeans and starry T-shirt.
‘What are you wearing them for?’ someone asked.
‘Because I want to, that’s why,’ I said.
It seemed so strange going into my own classroom. It felt as if I’d been away for years. The class fell silent at the sight of me. Mr Abbott stood up. His Adam’s apple wobbled as he swallowed.
‘Hello, Lily,’ he said softly.
I stared him straight in the eyes. I saw them flicker. It was enough. He was the one who’d betrayed us. I stalked straight past him to my desk and sat down. Mr Abbott watched me, but didn’t make me speak to him. He told everyone to get out their books for a maths lesson. I got out my book too but I didn’t attempt any of the sums. I drew in the margin – four small stick people and one bigger one.
Then it was Literacy and we had to do work on The Secret Garden. This was a book I loved, although most of our class hated it because it was written in a hard way, especially the Yorkshire bits. Mr Abbott kept asking questions, glancing at me now and then, because he knew I’d have an answer – but I didn’t put my hand up once.
The bell rang for playtime and everyone started shoving their books away.
‘All right, off you go. Have a good run around and wake yourselves up.’ He paused. ‘Lily, could I have a word?’
The other kids nudged each other, eyes gleaming, because it looked as if I was for it. I strolled to the front of the class, humming, acting like I couldn’t care less.
‘Just a minute, Lily,’ said Mr Abbott, waiting until the last child was out of the room. Then he turned to me. ‘How are you?’
I stared at him.
‘How do you think I am?’ I hissed. I didn’t care that he was my teacher and I might get into trouble for talking like that. He was my favourite teacher in all the world and that made it worse.
‘What happened, Lily? Tell me.’
‘We’ve been taken into care, me and my brother and sisters, and my mum might go to prison, and it’s all your fault,’ I said.
Mr Abbott’s head jerked as if I’d slapped him.
‘You came round again, didn’t you?’
‘Yes I did. I was very worried about you. And then I saw your letter—’
‘Which said we were all going on holiday.’
‘Yes, but did you really expect me to believe that? Come on, Lily. I was pretty sure you children were on your own. I had to tell someone. Anything could have happened to you. Where did you go? How did you manage? I’ve been worried sick about you.’
‘If you hadn’t come round poking your nose in we’d have been fine, absolutely fine. We had to run away after you’d come round. We went to the park and my sister Bliss got hurt, and she’s in hospital now, and I can’t bear her being there all alone without us. Mum came back, I knew she would, but now the police have got her and I’m stuck in this children’s home and it’s awful, awful, awful—’ I was sobbing, unable to stop.
‘Oh, Lily. Don’t cry. I feel so dreadful. I want to give you a great big hug but teachers aren’t allowed to do that.’
‘I want to give you a great big punch but children aren’t allowed to do that,’ I cried.
‘I want to punch me too for upsetting you. I wish I hadn’t interfered – but I felt it was my duty. That sounds so pompous, I’m so sorry. How is Bliss? Is she badly hurt?’
‘She fell out of a tree and hurt her head and I think her leg’s all broken. I’m so worried about her.’
‘Well, tell you what, I’ll talk to whoever runs this children’s home and see if I can get permission to take you to the hospital to visit her.’
‘And my oth
er sister and brother? They’ve been fostered. Will you take me to see them too?’
‘Yes, of course I will, if they’ll let me. Lily, I’m so, so sorry.’ He looked as if he really meant it. His eyes were watery, almost as if he was going to cry. He was acting like he really cared for me.
‘I know you didn’t mean it to work out like this, Mr Abbott,’ I said. ‘And I was ever so pleased you bought me the angel postcards. I’ve still got them safe.’
‘Maybe I can take you to see the real paintings one day.’
‘I pretended we did that,’ I said shyly. ‘I really, really wanted to see those paintings.’
‘You’re such a special girl, Lily.’
I stiffened. ‘You mean like special needs?’
‘No! I mean you’re a girl with special, remarkable qualities.’
‘No, I’m not. I’m not clever. I’m rubbish at maths and that. And I’m from a problem family.’
‘Who said that?’
‘Mrs Symes.’
‘What? To you?’
‘No, to this careworker, Stevie, but I heard it.’
‘Oh dear. Well, I think Mrs Symes is mistaken, though don’t quote me on that. You seem a lovely family, you and your sisters and brother. You were all getting along splendidly when I came round to your house. You’re so good with the children, Lily. You’re going to be a lovely mother one day.’
‘My mum’s a lovely mother, Mr Abbott.’
He nodded but he didn’t look convinced.
‘I was lying that night, saying she’d gone to the shops.’
‘Yes, but I understand why you were telling fibs.’
‘She did go off, but I swear she didn’t mean us to be stuck on our own. Mr Abbott, what will happen to my mum?’
Mr Abbott hesitated. ‘I’m not sure, Lily.’
‘Will she go to prison?’
‘I don’t really know. I wouldn’t think so.’
‘So will we be able to go back to our flat, all of us together?’
‘I hope so. I’m going to try hard to make that happen.’
‘Mr Abbott, I really miss my mum.’
‘I know you do. I’m sure you’ll be able to see her soon, Lily,’ he said, and he gently patted my shoulder.
He was right. I was having spaghetti for tea with all the boys and Sharon when there was a ring on the doorbell. Stevie went to see who it was and came back smiling.
‘Someone for you, Lily,’ she said.
I went flying to the door and there was Mum, looking wonderful in her new silky dress, her hair loose and lovely on her shoulders, honey brown all over.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said, holding out her arms.
I flung myself at her.
‘Hey, gently! I’m wearing my daft heels – you’ll have me over, you silly sausage. Pleased to see your old mum, eh?’
‘Oh, Mum, have you come to take me home?’
‘Well, not just yet. I’ve packed you up a little carrier of your clothes here – your school uniform and your jacket and that. What were you doing in it – it looked like you were all mud wrestling!’
Duncan and Ian came out into the hall and stared at us.
‘Is that your mum?’ Duncan said.
‘Yes. See! I told you she’d come,’ I said.
‘She’s pretty,’ said Ian.
‘Yeah, that’s me, very pretty. And I must say, you’re a handsome little chap,’ said Mum, tossing her hair and smiling at him – even though Ian was seven, and had knock knees and a runny nose.
‘Do you think I’m handsome too?’ Duncan said.
‘Yes, you’re positively gorgeous. Lily, any chance you and me could go off for a little stroll and have a proper chat?’
‘No chance, I’m afraid,’ said Stevie, coming into the hall too. ‘But you could go up to Lily’s room if you like. I’ll make sure the other kids leave you in peace. And then you and I must have a little chat too, Ms Green. I’m sure you know you’re supposed to have a proper supervised visit at an arranged time. Still, I know how much this means to both of you so I’ll turn a blind eye this time.’
‘Oh, thank you ever so much,’ said Mum, with exaggerated politeness. She raised her eyebrows at me as we went upstairs. ‘My God, I have to get permission and jump through all sorts of hoops just to see my own daughter! What an old bossy-boots. And what does she look like?’
‘Stevie’s OK, Mum.’
‘Stevie!’ Mum snorted. She sniffed at my room too. ‘It’s like a little rabbit hutch – and where did they get that awful duvet from, a pound shop? Honestly, they think this rubbish place is better than your own room at home?’
I didn’t have my own room at home, I didn’t even have a proper bed – I shared a mattress with the twins – but I wasn’t going to point this out. I sat down on Spider-Man and Mum sat down beside me, her arm round me.
‘Don’t you worry, pet. I’ll get you out of here. You trust your old mum. We’ll be back home quick as a wink.’
‘With Bliss and Baxter and Pixie?’
‘Of course, all of us.’
‘Oh, Mum, I’m so worried about Bliss. She’ll be so scared all by herself in hospital.’
‘She’s fine, lovey, truly, sitting up and playing, though obviously she can’t move about much because of her leg. This lady was helping her make a new head for Headless, stuffing an old sock. It looked a bit of a fright, but Bliss seemed happy enough. And look, she made you this.’ Mum fumbled in her bag and brought out a Get Well card carefully coloured in, with a big LILY printed at the top in purple crayon, and a wobbly row of kisses.
‘But I’m not the one who needs to get well, it’s Bliss.’
‘Yes, she got the wrong end of the stick, bless her, but I didn’t like to point it out. She said to tell you she’s sorry she fell out the tree.’
‘Oh, poor Bliss. I so want to see her. Mr Abbott said he might take me to see her.’
‘That interfering old git? I’ll take you. We’ll fix it up with Bossy-Boots with the bad haircut. Maybe I’ll get Simon to run us up to the hospital – you have to wait ages for the bus.’
‘Simon?’
‘That policeman with the fair hair, you know, he came to the hospital yesterday.’
‘You have to have a police escort?’
‘No, you noodle. He’ll take me as a friend. He was so sweet to me yesterday. I cried all over him and he was lovely about it.’
‘So they’ve let you go?’
‘Well, they’ve charged me, on two counts. Simon reckons I won’t be able to talk myself out of the credit card fraud, especially as I’ve got previous, but it was only a few hundred, after all. If I’m lucky the magistrates will just give me community service, probably eighty hours, so that’s a bit of a laugh – though God help me if I have to wear them orange overalls. It’s going to be a bit of a long-haul struggle with the child neglect charge. All these know-it-alls will be making reports and filling up their registers and acting like bleeding school teachers – when it was a simple mistake, Mikey was coming, it was all fixed, sort of.’
‘I’ll tell them it was all my fault, Mum,’ I said.
‘No, it wasn’t your fault, darling. You’ve been wonderful by all accounts, a proper little mother to the kids.’
‘No I wasn’t. I couldn’t look after them properly. Bliss fell out the tree – that was my fault, I wasn’t watching them.’
‘For heaven’s sake, you can’t keep your eye on kids all the time. And she’s doing fine. She’ll have a little scar on her forehead but she can always grow a fringe – and her leg’s setting nicely. She’ll be out of hospital in no time. They won’t let her home with me just yet, but there’s talk of her going to that foster home with Baxter and my little Pixie, so they can all be together.’
‘They wouldn’t let me stay there.’
‘Yes, but you’re a grown-up girl, babe. You have to be brave and hang out here on your ownio, just for a little while, and then we’ll all be back together.’
; ‘You really promise?’
‘Well, Simon says – that sounds funny, doesn’t it, like that party game! Anyway, Simon says it’s a ninety-nine-per-cent certainty, and you can’t get better than that, can you?’
‘I’d sooner it was a hundred per cent. This Simon – you’re not getting off with him, are you?’
‘Don’t be so daft! Imagine having a copper for a boyfriend! Still, he is quite sweet – and I think he said something about his marriage breaking up. He earns a good wage – and he’d be a very good influence on Baxter. Your face, Lily! I’m just kidding. He was just helping me out because he felt sorry for me. Now, I’ve got to struggle round with another bag of clothes for Baxter and Pixie so I’d better get a move on or it’ll be their bedtime, and I need to see my little man and my baby. Oh, Lily, I miss you kids so much. I’m never ever going to leave you again, not even for a night. Now, give us a kiss goodbye, there’s a good girl. I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise.’
I stayed in my room after Mum went. I tried to stop myself crying by playing my Lily Alone game – but it was pointless. I didn’t want to live all alone in my big white dream house any more. I tore all the used pages out of my drawing book. Then I started on a new drawing of our living room at home. I drew Mum on the sofa, with me next to her, Pixie on my lap. Baxter was curled up next to Mum and Bliss was cuddled up to me, her poorly leg propped up.
We’re all going to be together very, very soon, I wrote underneath.
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About the Author
Jacqueline Wilson is one of Britain’s bestselling authors, with more than 38 million books sold in the UK alone. She has been honoured with many prizes for her work, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award and the Children’s Book of the Year. Jacqueline is a former Children’s Laureate, a professor of children’s literature, and in 2008 she was appointed a Dame for services to children’s literacy.