Shine (3 page)

a whole lake of tears is welling…

W
e 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.”

so I need you to trust me…

A
man in a funny hat comes into the room where me and Benita are still waiting. Chardonnay is on my lap. Her little body keeps trembling and she’s looking all lost and worried. In one day she’s gone from being cosy at home with her mum and puppy brothers and sisters to being in a police room, on her way to the kennels. I hold her close wishing she were small enough to climb inside my pocket and come with me, wherever I’m going. Benita yawns, sips her hot tea and shakes hands with the man.

“Hi, Tiffany,” he says. He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Sorry I took so long to get to you.” He pulls
up an orange chair and sits really close to me. “I know this must all be very difficult for you, Tiffany, and there’s a lot for you to take in,” he says. “My name’s Amida and I’m your social worker. It’s my job to make sure that you’re safe tonight, until we’ve sorted somewhere else for you. I’m going to take you to a lovely family, where you can get some sleep and something to eat. Your mum knows that we’re taking good care of you, so I need you to trust me. Do you have any questions, Tiffany?”

I shake my head. I have at least seven million questions whizzing through my brain about what’s happening in my life and why my mum’s in a police station crying. And about what has
actually
happened and what Mikey did. And if someone from Sark will come and find me and if they do what will they be like. But all my questions are squashed together in the little worry bag that’s stuck in my throat.

“Great then,” he says, standing up, yawning. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Benita hands him my wheelie suitcase and takes Chardonnay from my lap. Chardonnay wriggles and yelps, trying to get back to me. She looks really worried
about what’s happening, so I stroke her head to calm her down. I want to give her a kiss goodbye, but I can’t trust that my feelings won’t spill out all over the place. I give her one last pat, take a very deep breath to keep everything under control and stand up on my jelly legs.

“I promise she’ll be well looked after,” calls Benita as we leave the room.

Amida’s car smells of leather and peppermints. He offers me one but I shake my head, I don’t want it. He tucks a cosy blanket around me to warm me up and calm my chattering teeth, and does up my seatbelt to save me the trouble.

“The people you’re going to be staying with are called Darren and Claudia – you’ll like them; they’ll be up waiting for us. I’ve already told them all about you.” He yawns. “It’s been a long old night for you, eh?”

I don’t have any voice left tonight, not for anyone. And even if I did, why would I want to talk to some nosy old social worker about how I’m feeling and how long my night has been? It’s not like he’s really interested, is it? He’s just doing his job and trying to be kind. But I don’t need kind, I need my life back. What does he even expect me to say? Some sad old story about
how my whole entire life has been ruined in one night, just so he can feel sorry for me? Or about how I’m starting to feel really angry with my mum? Well, whatever it is he wants from me he’s not getting it. No one is. My mouth is staying firmly zipped.

“Here we are,” says Amida, parking the car in front of a big house, “I’ll come back to see you in the morning, Tiffany. I hope you sleep well.”

A man wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old woolly jumper comes out of the house, followed by a lady in a pink-and-white spotted dressing gown. Amida pulls my wheelie suitcase from the boot of his car.

“Thanks for this,” he says to them. “Sorry it’s such short notice.”

The car door is opened for me and the lady, Claudia, helps me out. My legs feel heavy and I want to lie down.

“Welcome, Tiffany,” she gushes, taking hold of me and guiding me along the dark path. “Let’s get you tucked up in bed shall we?”

I hear Amida drive away and am left alone with two more new people to get used to. I follow them into the house and have some milk and biscuits without a fuss.
Claudia takes me into a green bedroom that has a blue rug on the floor and a yellow teddy on the bed. She helps me into my pyjamas and carries on chatting away, not minding that I’m not joining in. I clean my teeth with weird-tasting toothpaste.

“Night then, Tiffany,” says Darren, popping his head round the door. “We’re just in the room next to you, so if you need anything in the night, or if you’re worried and need to talk, just come and wake us up, OK?”

Claudia’s soft hands tuck me in. She leaves my door open a bit so a sliver of landing light can peep its way in. Shadows hang on my walls and strange sounds creak and creep around me. New fabric-softener smells sit in my nose and tickle my face. And when it’s safe and quiet and there’s no one around, the tears sneak out of my eyes. They trickle at first and then a dark monster in my stomach lurches up and pushes hard. My face crumples like a stupid piece of rubbish paper and my voice wants to call out for my mum and Chardonnay. But I won’t let it call, and I won’t let it call for stupid Darren or stupid Claudia either. Instead, I bite hard on the yellow teddy and try to sleep.

today is not happening…

I
keep waking up in the night and have to keep reminding myself where I am. When I open my eyes in the morning Claudia is standing there.

“Good morning, Tiffany,” she says, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Did you sleep well?” I shrug, ignore her questions, and try to find the safe place in my head where my life hasn’t been ruined. She doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not answering her and just carries on jabbering away. “Amida is popping back this morning, Tiffany, to have a chat and let you know what’s happening. Why don’t you have a shower and some breakfast and get yourself ready for the day?”

She takes me out into the hallway and introduces me to the girl in the next room. “This is Matilda,” says Claudia, “she’s the same age as you. She’ll show you the ropes, OK?”

“I only need to know where the shower is,” I say to Matilda when Claudia has gone. “I don’t need to see anything else. I’m being picked up soon.”

Matilda steps forward and grabs my arm, hard. “Wake up, new girl,” she sneers. “We’re all here for ever. No one’s coming back for you, no one wants you around any more; this is the rubbish dump and you’ve been dumped here, just like the rest of us. So get used to it.”

“You’re wrong,” I say, trying to stare her out, “someone is coming for me, soon.” But she’s good at staring, very good. She’s better than Chelsea, better than me. My stupid tummy turns to jelly again. Matilda pushes me into the bathroom, slams the door behind us and shows me her fist.

“See this?” she says. “You just make sure you don’t get in my way, otherwise my fist might find itself bumping into your teeth.”

“You won’t need to worry about me for long,” I
brave, staring at her with hard eyes, to hide my fear. “I told you, I’m getting out of here soon. Very soon.”

But she just makes a rude sign at me and walks out.

I run the shower – hot. Is Matilda right? Am I on the rubbish dump for good? I wet a pink flannel in the hot water and bite the fluff hard while my body trembles and more tears sneak from my eyes. I panic that I might never be able to stop because my tears just keep coming and coming. I’m worried that Matilda is outside the door, listening with her big ugly ears. So I make the shower go freezing cold to wake me up and try to think about more happy stuff, like the old film,
Singing in the Rain
. I pretend I’m holding a big black umbrella and I tipadee-tap-dance around the shower and try to make myself smile.

While I’m getting dressed I decide that today is actually not happening. I start rubbing all the horribleness out and try filling my mind with pictures of wonderful days and beautiful things. Like my mum on a good day when she’s all happy and we’re having a lovely time together at the funfair or the ice-skating rink. Like how happy she looks when she’s bought herself a new ring or when she’s spinning around on a pair of shiny, new
high-heeled shoes in a cloud of special perfume. And I try to remember her soft face when we’re snuggling in bed together, sharing secrets. But scary pictures of my mum in a police cell, and Chardonnay in kennels, and Mikey with his fat cigars, and blue flashing lights, and peppermints, and a small island with an unknown family keep crowding in.

Amida the social worker is a liar. He’s not coming to see me today like he promised. Instead he spoke to Darren on the phone and said that nothing much could be done with me until after the weekend, so I have to stay here until then. I’ve turned into a hot-potato problem that no one wants to touch. Matilda
is
right and I hate her for that. She makes a big fat ‘told you so’ face at me later on when we’re climbing into Darren’s car to go to the cinema. Then she ‘accidentally’ sticks her stupid clumsy foot out so that I trip and smash my shin on the cold metal. Nobody has noticed that I might not be in a cinema kind of mood. Or that it’s super-weird for me to be living in this stupid place. No one has mentioned the fact that my mum is locked behind a grey door, crying, or that I might be feeling left alone.

The truth is a bad fart smell in the room that everyone is too polite to mention. None of the other kids is saying why they got left here on the rubbish dump either.

Claudia waves us off, smiling, with a baby under her arm, like we’re her own children going out with our own dad. But I’ve never even been to the cinema with my own dad before, because I’ve never even seen him with my own eyes and I don’t even know his name, so it’s a stupid thing to pretend. I decide that Claudia is a liar too, just like everyone else in my new life. And I bet that when we’ve gone she just heaves a big sigh of relief because she’s getting rid of us all for a few hours.

Everyone is pretending to be having a nice time with Darren and the helper person that’s come along with us, when they’d really rather be somewhere else.

I want to watch the new ‘12’ film but I don’t trust Matilda’s fists in the dark.

“I want to see the Disney film with the little ones,” I lie.

“Are you sure?” asks Darren.

I nod and Matilda sticks her thumb in her mouth
and makes a stupid baby face at me. I pretend not to notice and get busy showing the little ones the big card-board Disney pictures in the foyer. Darren gets us some popcorn and some juice. He’s says Coke’s not allowed because it’s bad for us, but that’s what me and Mum always have, so I don’t see the problem, really. When the Disney colours flash across the screen I try to find a gentle place in my mind; a place that’s somewhere “Over the Rainbow”, with no blue flashing lights or
Crimewatch
or lost Mums or spiteful Matildas. A place where there’s no waiting or wondering what might happen to you and no pretending that you’re OK, when you really have an earthquake going on inside you all of the time.

My mind starts drifting off and I’m thinking about my friend Chelsea. I really want to text her and tell her what’s happening to me, but I feel too embarrassed for anyone to know, even her. It’s obvious that I’m not going to be in school on Monday and I’m worried that if I tell her she might just let my news slip out of her mouth at lunch break. Then the gossip would spread around that my mum was in a police cell, being accused of doing bad things. And even worse, everyone would know
that I’d be left here on the rubbish dump, alone, waiting to be rescued. So I have no choice. I have to wait and see what’s going to happen. But if I don’t text Chelsea as usual then she’ll wonder where I am and her imagination will go crazy. Especially as she saw Mikey’s face all over
Crimewatch
. There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to think of a lie.