‘OK. I wasn’t very thrilled about the idea myself. Oh Jayni, what the hell are we doing here? Maybe I went a little bit nuts. Your dad wouldn’t really start on you. He thinks the world of you, darling.’
‘He thinks the world of you too, Mum, but he hits you. Why does he?’
‘Search me. I just seem to set him off. I’m pretty useless really. Not much cop as a wife – or a mum.’ She started to cry.
‘You’re a lovely mum,’ I said. I put my arms round her. ‘You’re not useless at all. You’re lucky. You’re the only person who’s ever won the lottery round our way.’
‘Lady Luck,’ Mum sniffed. ‘That’s what I signed in the register downstairs. L. Luck. Just in case your dad came snooping. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to be so close to the station. This could be the first place he’ll look if he comes after us. We’ll leave right after breakfast, OK?’
‘Is that going to be your new name then, Mum? Lady Luck?’
‘Well, “Lady” sounds a bit daft, doesn’t it? I could be Nikki Luck now, though. Or maybe I’ll change my first name too. I’ll be . . . Victoria. I always liked Posh best of all the Spice Girls. Victoria Luck. Yeah, sounds great, doesn’t it?’
‘Shall we change our names too, Kenny and me?’
‘Yes, I think you’d better. Who do you want to be then, darling?’
I thought of all the women in my scrapbook, Britney and Charlotte and Kate and Kylie, but that didn’t work because I wasn’t remotely like any of them. I’d edged each picture with lots of cut-out presents for each woman – flowers and glasses of champagne and boxes of chocolates and bottles of perfume. One of the pictures had the model’s name, Lola Rose.
I tried the name out inside my head. I liked it.
‘I’ll be Lola Rose.’ I stood up straight, tossed my hair, smoothed my nightie. Lola Rose sounded a seriously cool girl. She had long, thick, curly hair (my fine, straight hair seemed thicker and curlier already). Lola Rose had a perfect model figure. I sucked in my tummy and stuck out my chest. Lola Rose wasn’t scared of anyone. Not even her dad.
I breathed out slowly, a little smile on my face.
‘Lola Rose Luck,’ said Mum. ‘OK New name, new start.’ She rubbed her watery eyes, smearing her mascara. ‘Oh Gawd, look at me. Bum, I didn’t pack my cleansing cream – or my make-up!’
‘We can go shopping, get you heaps more. And I could have some too,’ I said hopefully.
‘OK, Lola Rose,’ said Mum, going to the sink to wash her face. She scooped up some water – and then shrieked. ‘My God!’
I’d filled the basin with cold water for Bubble. Mum had fished him out by mistake. He wriggled free and plopped back into the water while Mum and I giggled hysterically.
‘Shut up in there, I’m trying to sleep,’ someone called, banging on our wall.
Mum and I spluttered some more, hands over our mouths. Kenny woke up too.
‘Where am I?’ he said, starting to cry. ‘Mum? Jayni?’
‘Shh, Kenny, we’re here,’ I said, going to him.
‘And you can shut that kid up too!’ the voice shouted from the other side of the wall.
‘You’re the one making all the noise, matie,’ Mum yelled. ‘You shut up.’
‘Mum! Don’t! Please don’t start a row,’ I hissed. I had my arms round Kenny, trying to stop him wailing.
The voice yelled back something very rude, so rude that Mum and I got the giggles again. Mum got back into bed beside us.
‘We’re out of here first thing, kids,’ she whispered. ‘We’re dossing down amongst some right nutters.’
‘You’re squashing me, Jayni!’ Kenny complained.
‘Sorry, sorry. But don’t call me Jayni. I’m Lola Rose now.’
‘And I’m Victoria,’ said Mum.
‘Is this a game?’ Kenny said uncertainly. ‘I don’t like it. I want to go home.’
‘No you don’t,’ I said quickly. ‘This is much more fun. We’re going shopping later on. We’ll buy you all sorts, Kenny. But we’re being new people now, so we’ve got new names. I’m Lola Rose Luck. Cool name, isn’t it! And Mum’s Victoria Luck. So what name are you going to choose?’
‘I’m Kenny,’ said Kenny.
‘Yeah, but now you can be anybody. Shall I help you? What about . . . Jamie? Robbie? David?’
‘Which? I won’t remember,’ Kenny said, looking worried.
‘Yes, you will. How about something like your own name, so it doesn’t sound too different. Lenny? Benny?’
‘Could I be Kendall?’ said Kenny.
‘Kendal mint cake!’ Mum spluttered.
I felt Kenny stiffen, humiliated.
‘I think Kendall’s a cool name,’ I said.
‘Yeah, right, it’s totally cool. Victoria Luck has two cool kids, Kendall and Lola Rose,’ said Mum, snuggling down between us. ‘Shall we all try and have a little kip now?’
She cuddled us close. Kenny – Kendall – was quiet. I thought he’d gone to sleep. But then he piped up again. ‘What’s Dad going to be called?’
I waited for Mum to answer. She didn’t. Maybe she was asleep.
‘Dad isn’t part of our family now, Kendall,’ I whispered.
‘Why not?’ Kendall sounded astonished.
I couldn’t see how he could be so thick. ‘You know why!’ I hissed. ‘Because Dad’s horrible and keeps hitting Mum. He hit me too. It still hurts whenever I move my jaw.’
‘He doesn’t hit me,’ said Kendall.
‘Don’t you feel sorry he hits Mum?’
‘But she deserves it,’ said Kendall.
I took hold of his bony little shoulders through his T-shirt and shook him hard. ‘How dare you say such a wicked, stupid thing!’
‘But she does deserve it. Dad says so,’ Kendall said, starting to whimper. ‘Don’t, Jayni, you’re hurting.’
‘I’m not Jayni any more, I’m Lola, Lola Rose. And you’re not to say another word about Dad or I’ll get really cross. We hate Dad.’
‘No, we don’t,’ Kendall mumbled. ‘We love him.’
I turned my back on him. I elbowed him away when he tried to cuddle up. I hated him – even though he was right.
I hated Dad. He scared me silly. But I still loved him.
I thought of him wandering round our flat all by himself, calling our names, looking in every room, pulling down bedcovers, peering in wardrobes. He’d get mad later. Fighting mad. But he’d be so hurt too. He’d cry. Our dad was the toughest man on the estate but I’d often seen him cry. He always cried after he’d hit Mum. He’d hold her hands and tell her he was sorry, tears trickling down his cheeks. He’d kiss all her bruises. He’d go down on his knees and beg her to forgive him. And she did.
It wasn’t just Mum. Dad has a way of getting round anyone. When Kenny had a temper tantrum, flat on his back, drumming his heels and yelling fit to burst, Dad would pick him up, laughing. ‘Let’s switch off this silly noise,’ he’d say, pressing Kenny’s nose like a button. Kenny would stop mid-scream and laugh like it had been a joke all along.
Dad could get round me too. He’d come and sit beside me and pick up my hand and play with my fingers, calling them funny names. Once he painted each of my little bitten nails the seven colours of the rainbow and my thumbs and one pinky finger gold, silver and sparkly white. He bought me this little pack of rainbow beads and threaded them onto my plaits while he fed me rainbow-dotted chocolate buttons.
On my last birthday he gave me a great silver box tied with rainbow ribbon. There were layers of tissue inside so I knew it was a dress. I guessed it would be a rainbow dress and I felt anxious because I’m too big for that kind of party frock. It was beautiful, with smocking on the front and rainbow stripes, little puff sleeves and a big flouncy skirt. It was the sort of dress I’d have died for when I was about five. It looked awful on me now. It was much too tight, too bright, too babyish. But I had to smile and hold out my skirts and prance around as if I was thrilled to bits.
I had to wear it to the schoo
l disco. All the other kids laughed at me. No one wanted to dance with me so I danced by myself, leaping around wildly, pretending to be having fun. I leapt a little too wildly and split my seams. Mum tried to sew them up for me but the material was ripped and frayed. We hid the dress at the back of the wardrobe so Dad wouldn’t see.
I thought about him finding it now.
I felt as if I were splitting apart just like my dress.
We checked out of that hotel straight after our continental breakfast.
‘Though what’s continental about cornflakes and toast and watered-down orange juice?’ said Mum. ‘What a rip-off! Let’s splash out and stay somewhere decent.’
We chose a big new hotel overlooking the river Thames.
‘Dead classy,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t you let me down, kids.’
We were given a big bedroom with a huge bed with a pink silky cover that matched the ruffled curtains. ‘And Pinkie matches too,’ I said, but when I tucked her under the covers she looked horribly grey and grubby. We had our own bathroom and a television and a phone and a fridge.
‘Look, we can have lots of drinks! And there’s peanuts and chocolates. Wow!’ said Kendall, rifling through them.
‘Hang on, I don’t think they’re free, are they, Mum?’ I said, grabbing his wrists.
‘Yeah, but we’re in the money, babe. Let him help himself.’
Kendall drank a can of Coke and nibbled peanuts while Mum and I had a bath together. There were dinky little bottles of shampoo and bath foam so we had the bath brimming with bubbles. We felt just like film stars.
‘You come and jump in too, Kenny – Kendall,’ Mum called.
We could hear him mumbling away to himself – or to someone else.
‘Kendall?’ I clambered out of the bath, wrapped one of the wonderful big fluffy towels right round me and padded into the bedroom. Kendall was leaning against the dressing table, chatting into the phone.
‘Yes, Dad, it’s great in London,’ he said.
I froze. ‘Kenny!’
He looked startled, then turned his back on me. ‘Only Jayni keeps nagging at me, Dad. And I have to sleep in a big bed with her and Mum and I want my own bed because I’m a big boy, aren’t I?’ he gabbled.
Then I grabbed the phone, wrenching it out of his hand so fiercely I bent his fingers back.
‘Ow!’ Kenny screamed. He tried to hit me with his hand and hurt his fingers more.
‘You told Dad where we are!’ I said.
Then I heard the dialling tone on the phone. Kenny hadn’t really been talking to Dad. He’d just been pretending.
Unless Dad had put the phone down his end . . .
‘Were you really talking to Dad, Kenny?’
‘Yes! And he said you’re very mean to me and he’s going to come and get you, see!’ Kenny shrieked. ‘And anyway, I’m not Kenny any more. I’m Kendall.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Mum called from the bathroom. ‘Stop yelling, both of you. They’ll be banging on the walls here.’
‘But he was trying to phone Dad!’
‘Don’t be so daft. He doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t even know the number properly.’
‘I do, I do! I know our number. It’s one two three four sixteen ten twenty, see!’ said Kenny.
I did see. I picked him up and gave him a hug, saying I was really sorry I’d hurt his poor hand. Mum got out of her bath, all pink and pretty in spite of the new bruises and her sore nose. I dunked Kendall in the water and blew bubbles with him until he’d cheered up.
‘Now let’s go out on the razzle,’ said Mum.
We started off with a second breakfast – pancakes and maple syrup and ice cream. I ate all mine and half of Kendall’s, and then ran my fingers round and round the plate to get every scrap of maple syrup.
‘Tut tut, your manners, Lola Rose,’ said Mum. Then she stuck out her finger and did exactly the same.
I picked my plate up to lick it.
‘Uh-uh! You’re going a bit too far now,’ said Mum. ‘Come on then. Big treat time. We’re going on the London Eye.’
‘Big treat, big treat, big treat!’ Kendall sang over and over again, until it became meaningless gabble.
He whooped with excitement when we pointed out the huge wheel with its glass pods. We watched it revolving very very slowly.
‘Big treat, big treat, big treat,’ Kendall gabbled all the time we queued. Everyone smiled at first and said, ‘Bless him,’ but eventually you could see it was getting on their nerves. It was getting on our nerves too, but there’s no way you can shut him up when he starts. He ‘big treated’ right until the moment we went to step into the glass pod. Then he screamed.
‘Kenny? What’s up?’ said Mum.
‘Kendall!’ I hissed. ‘Come on, it’s OK. Step on quick.’
‘Noooo!’ Kenny roared. ‘It’s too scary!’
I had to pick him up and lug him on, carrying him over my shoulder. He kicked and screamed, his square-toed shoes kicking me in the tummy.
‘Cut it out, Kendall. It’s lovely. Not a bit scary.’
‘We’ll fall!’
‘No we won’t. We’re in our glass pod. We’re going right up high, just like we’re flying. Look!’
Kendall wouldn’t look. He stopped screaming but he stuck his head right inside my jacket and clung tightly. I wanted to get up off my seat and have a proper look, but he moaned whenever I moved.
‘You are a wimp, Kendall,’ said Mum. ‘Here, Lola Rose, I’ll take him for a bit.’
‘Thanks, Victoria,’ I said.
It felt as if we were actors because we hadn’t quite got used to using our new names. I loved being called Lola Rose. I unhooked Kendall, parking him with Mum. I stood with my face pressed against the glass. It wasn’t quite scary enough for me. I wanted to whizz round and round with all of London blurring. I wished our glass pod would fly off by itself, whirling us further and further away from Dad. It felt so much safer up here in the bright blue sky.
I didn’t like it when we were back on the ground again. I kept thinking about Dad, looking over my shoulder.
‘Don’t act so twitchy, Lola Rose, it’s getting on my nerves,’ said Mum.
‘Where are we going now?’ said Kendall.
Mum didn’t reply. I looked at her. She didn’t know.
‘Let’s go shopping,’ I said.
We couldn’t see any shops, just river and walkways and big buildings. ‘Where are the shops, Mum?’
‘Well, kind of over there,’ said Mum, gesturing vaguely across the river. ‘I suppose we’d better get up on the bridge. So what are you after, Lola Rose? That denim jacket with fur? And shall we get you your little leather jacket, Kendall?’
Kendall didn’t react. He was breathing deeply, still a bit snuffly after all that screaming. He was staring up at the building beside us.
‘Kendall? Have you forgotten that’s your name?’ I hissed.
‘I know,’ he said, not looking at me. He was staring at the sign on the building. ‘That’s the fish word.’
‘Aquarium! Yeah, you’re right, my lovely,’ said Mum. ‘Clever little lad! Imagine a little boy like you knowing a big word like aquarium!’
‘Can we buy some fish to be Bubble’s friends?’
‘Yes, we could maybe buy a new goldfish, and some food and a proper bowl,’ I said.
Bubble hadn’t looked too clever this morning. We’d cleared the bath of bubbles and left him swimming in this big big pool but Bubble seemed very tired. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to last much longer. It would be great if Kendall could be distracted with a whole new fishy family.
But when we went in we saw it wasn’t the kind of aquarium where you buy fish. It was like a big fish zoo.
‘You just look at these fish, Kendall, you can’t buy them. Come on, let’s go.’
‘I want to look,’ said Kendall.
‘At a load of old fish?’ said Mum. ‘Give us a break, Kenny. Kendall. It’ll be boring. No, we’re going to the shops
and we’ll get you a little leather jacket.’
‘Please let me see the fish. Will they have sharks?’ said Kendall.
‘Sharks!’ I said, laughing.
But they did have sharks.
I was dawdling along in the dark, peering in at the tanks without much interest, thinking about denim jackets lined with fur. I wished there were some seats somewhere as I was feeling really tired now. Mum was holding Kendall up so he could see some slithery creature at the top of the tank.
I felt that if you’d seen one fish you’d seen them all. These ones weren’t much more interesting than Bubble. I wandered round a corner and came to a huge tank that took up the whole wall. I leant against the glass, imagining what it would be like to be a mermaid. I remembered a mermaid cartoon video I watched with Dad ages ago – and then a huge shark swam right past me, jaw open, showing three rows of terrifying teeth an inch away from my nose.
I screamed.
Mum and Kendall came running.
I couldn’t stop screaming, though I covered my mouth with both hands.
‘What is it, Jayni? Is it Dad? Did you see him?’ said Mum, grabbing me.
‘There’s a shark!’ I gasped.
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ said Mum, giving me a little shake. ‘You gave me such a scare!’
All these Japanese tourists were pointing at me and laughing.
‘You’re not scared of fish, are you?’ said Mum, laughing too.
‘It’s a shark,’ I said. ‘It was so big and so close. It was like it was touching me.’
‘I’m not scared,’ said Kendall. ‘I want to see the shark! Where is it?’
‘It looks like Lola Rose has frightened it away with all that screaming. Honestly, you’re worse than Kendall!’
Then another huge shark – and another and another – came swimming past, with baleful eyes and huge sneery mouths. Mum stepped back smartly.
‘Bloody hell!’ she said, holding my hand. ‘I take it all back. They’re whoppers!’
‘I like them. Sharkie, sharkie, sharkie! Good boys! Come and see me. Open your big mouths. I want to see your teeth,’ Kendall begged, standing so close his nose was squashed sideways by the glass.
‘Watch out!’ I called, clinging to Mum.