Candyfloss

  ‘Not really rolling in it, Floss,’ said Dad – but we certainly had enough to buy our mobile phone.

  Then we went to the station to have a look at the chip van. It had been towed back into the shed where Billy always kept it. We peered in at it in silence. It was black all over, with half the roof actually burned off. Dad wound his arms round me tightly. We stood for a few seconds and then crept away again.

  ‘I feel like I’ve let Billy down,’ said Dad mournfully.

  ‘But he doesn’t want his chip van any more, Dad, he said so.’

  ‘He might change his mind. Still, I suppose he can always buy a brand-new van with his insurance money.’

  We trudged on past the station. I knew where we were going now. Dad looked at me quizzically. I nodded. It wasn’t worth walking all round the moon when the direct way to school went straight past our café.

  Harlie’s Café didn’t exist any more. It was now a Starbucks. Dad stood staring at the smart green paintwork. He stepped up to the window and looked in, past the orange lamps and all the people standing at the counter and sitting at every single table and chair and sofa. He stood still and sighed softly. Then he suddenly waved.

  ‘Look who’s in there!’ he said. ‘It’s Old Ron and Miss Davis! Look, they’re sitting at the same table! And getting on like a house on fire as far as I can see. Let’s embarrass them terribly and go and say hello.’

  We went into the café. It was just like stepping into any coffee bar anywhere. I looked up at the ceiling, wondering what was up there now. The girl cleaning the table looked up too, as if worried I’d spotted a leak.

  ‘Yes?’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Who lives up there?’ I asked.

  ‘No one. It’s just the office and the storeroom,’ she said.

  ‘It isn’t a flat any more?’

  ‘I think it was once,’ she said – like it was a hundred years ago. ‘But it was in a terrible state. Goodness knows who lived there.’

  I glanced nervously at Dad, who was thankfully deep in conversation with Old Ron and Miss Davis, gesturing theatrically with his bandaged hands. They were gasping appreciatively.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said to the girl, and ran over to join my dad.

  Old Ron and Miss Davis were an extremely satisfying audience. They also said how much they missed Charlie’s Café.

  ‘I’m on my beam ends, drinking Starbucks coffee,’ said Old Ron. ‘Talk about pricey!’

  I didn’t know what his beam was and where it ended, but I got the gist of what he was saying.

  ‘And Mr Starbucks doesn’t have a clue when it comes to making a good plain cup of tea from a nicely warmed pot,’ said Miss Davis, sighing.

  ‘Well, as soon as my bandages are off I’ll make you as many cups of tea and coffee as you can manage at my place,’ said Dad, but then he bit his lip. ‘Well . . . Billy’s place. Whatever.’

  ‘Is he really going to sell up?’ said Old Ron.

  ‘So he says. Hey, Ron, if push came to shove, you wouldn’t take on his old cats, would you? Whisky and Soda, two very nice old ladyfriends.’

  ‘Well . . .’ said Old Ron. ‘In the general run of things I might say yes, but now I’ve got this very nice old ladyfriend who isn’t at all keen on cats.’ He nudged Miss Davis in the ribs.

  She glared at him. ‘Utter nonsense! And watch what you’re doing, I bruise easily,’ she said, but she wasn’t really cross. She leaned across the table at me. ‘Do they catch birds?’

  ‘Oh no, Miss Davis, never in a million years. They can’t catch anything, they’re far too lazy and plump. They don’t even crunch up their cat food properly; they just suck all the juice off the fishy chunks. But they’re really lovely kind cats. They’ve tried to be very motherly to my cat Lucky. I’m sure you’d like them if you met them.’

  ‘Well, if there’s really no other alternative I won’t object if Ronald wants to give the creatures a proper home for their twilight years,’ said Miss Davis.

  ‘Old Ron and Miss Davis seem to be taking care of their twilight years,’ said Dad, as we continued our long rambling walk to school. ‘Fancy, all those years of coming into my café and they barely spoke to each other. And then there’s Billy the Chip, so stuck in his ways he did the same thing every single day of his life, and yet now he’s upped sticks and swanning around Australia. Your mum too, of course.’ Dad sighed. ‘They’ve all moved on. I’ve stayed stuck. No, I haven’t even done that, I’ve started going backwards. One moment I’ve got a wife, a child, my own business, and then the next – poof!’ But Dad was smiling at me. ‘I’ve still got the most important little person in my life, that’s all that matters. Come on then, Floss. Let’s get you to school. You’re astronomically late. I hope you won’t get a telling-off. Do you want me to come in with you and explain?’

  I didn’t think this was a good idea at all. ‘I’ll be fine, Dad, really,’ I said.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, sweetheart. Schools do give me the heebie-jeebies. I always feel like I’m going to be told to stand in the corner with my hands on my head. What’s your Mrs Horsefield like, Floss? Bit of an old bag?’

  ‘She’s lovely, Dad!’

  When we approached the school I saw a class was out in the playground doing PE. My class, with Mrs Horsefield in her prettiest white top and shorts showing all the class how to jog on the spot.

  ‘My goodness, is she a teacher?’ Dad whispered.

  ‘She’s Mrs Horsefield, Dad. My teacher. See, I told you she was lovely,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll say. You’re a lucky girl, Floss,’ said Dad. ‘OK then, pet, you run and join all your friends. I’ll come and collect you at going-home time.’

  I gave Dad a quick kiss and started racing towards the gate into school. Dad waved with his big bandaged hand. Mrs Horsefield slowed to a standstill, panting a little.

  ‘Floss? Is that your father? Mr Barnes!’

  ‘Uh-oh!’ said Dad. ‘Looks as if I’m in trouble after all.’

  He walked along by my side, his arms dangling. Everyone stopped jogging and stood still, staring. Everyone except Susan. She came flying across the playground and met me at the school gate. She flung her arms round me and gave me a great big hug.

  ‘Hello, Susan,’ said Dad. ‘I know you two girls are best friends but do you always greet each other with such gusto?’

  ‘No, no, Mr Barnes! I’m just so relieved to see Floss. I thought something awful had happened to her. One of the girls in our class said there’d been a fire in the chip van and I was so scared you’d both been burned. Oh, but you have been burned, Mr Barnes. Look at your poor hands!’

  ‘They’re fine, dear. I’ve just got the bandages on to keep them nice and clean. The nurse says they’ll clear up completely in a week or so.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve just got first-degree burns. Thank goodness!’ said Susan, knowledgeable as always.

  Mrs Horsefield came right over to us. ‘OK, Susan, you get back in line, dear,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Floss? There have been all sorts of terrible rumours running round the school. I tried phoning, but your telephone number seems to be out of order, Mr Barnes.’

  ‘Oh dear, that would be the old number, yes. Silly of me not to have let you know. I’ll give the school my mobile number. We’re temporarily staying at a friend’s house but I expect we’re moving on soon, during the school holidays.’

  ‘Flora’s had to cope with quite a few changes recently,’ Mrs Horsefield said quietly, careful that the others shouldn’t hear.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m afraid she has, but she’s been a little star,’ said Dad. ‘She’s such a good girl, my Floss. She might not always be up to speed with her lessons. I think she’s a bit of a dreamer, like her old dad, but I know she tries really hard, Mrs Horsefield.’

  ‘I know she does,’ said Mrs Horsefield. ‘Mr Barnes, you do know you can come in to see me any day after school? I always stay on in the classroom for a good half-hour or so. If there’s anything you
want to discuss, any problems, any advice – well, that’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dad. ‘I wish I’d had a smashing teacher like you when I was at school.’

  ‘Dad!’ I hissed.

  Dad laughed at me and pretended to punch the tip of my chin with his bandaged fist. ‘Am I embarrassing you, darling? That’s what dads are for,’ he said. ‘I’ll come and meet you after school, OK?’

  He backed off across the playground. When Mrs Horsefield blew her whistle and got everyone to start jogging again, Dad started jogging too, arms pumping, feet pounding. We could see his head bobbing up and down all the length of the school fence. Susan laughed fondly. So did some of the others. Rhiannon and Margot and Judy laughed too, but they were standing with their hands on their hips, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Look at Smelly Belly Chip!’ said Rhiannon.

  ‘Like, who does he think he is?’ said Margot.

  ‘He’s so fat! See his big bum! Smelly Belly Waggle Bum!’ said Judy.

  They all laughed harder. I hated all three of them. When Mrs Horsefield told us to start running properly I forged ahead, kicked Rhiannon right on her own bum, then Margot, then Judy, kick kick kick like a soccer star. Then I charged out of their way before they could get me back.

  I couldn’t keep out of their way for ever. I couldn’t keep out of anyone’s way at break time. Everyone crowded round me in the cloakroom, wanting to hear all about the fire. The story had already spread rapidly and had become wildly exaggerated. Dad and I had been besieged by thousands of yobs who had deliberately set the chip van on fire with us inside.

  ‘No, no, it wasn’t like that at all!’ I said.

  ‘So what was it like?’

  ‘Tell us, Floss.’

  ‘Yeah, come on, Floss, tell!’

  So I started telling the whole story myself, and as I got into it I couldn’t help doing a little exaggerating myself. I had my dad leaping out of the van, knocking knives out of guys’ hands kung-fu style. I demonstrated enthusiastically. I had Dad snatching Saul from a serious stabbing, protecting his girlfriend, bashing all the yobs and sending them flying.

  ‘Oh wow, Floss, your dad’s fantastic!’

  ‘That’s so cool!’

  ‘Did he really beat them all off?’

  ‘Of course he didn’t!’ said Rhiannon. ‘Old Smelly Belly Bum Chip couldn’t bash so much as a baked potato. You’re telling whopping great lies, Floss.’

  ‘I am not! Well, he might not have hit them all. And maybe there was just one knife. But I’ll tell you something, and I swear this is true. When the fryer caught fire in the van I was trapped, and I would have burned to death there and then if Dad hadn’t braved the flames and fought his way over to me and carried me out,’ I said.

  ‘Your dad’s truly heroic, Floss,’ Susan proclaimed.

  ‘Yes, isn’t he,’ I agreed proudly.

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Rhiannon.

  ‘Yeah, like, totally gross,’ said Margot.

  Judy didn’t say anything but she made a very rude noise.

  ‘Take no notice of them, Floss,’ said Susan. ‘They’re just jealous of your lovely dad.’

  ‘Jealous!’ said Rhiannon. ‘My dad earns fifty thousand a year in his car business and he’s always buying me heaps of stuff and taking us on fantastic holidays, and people say he looks very like Tom Cruise. Plus he doesn’t smell, so why should I be jealous, Swotty Potty?’

  ‘Floss’s dad loves her tremendously and talks to her as if she’s his special friend and plays with her heaps and does funny things to make her laugh and takes good care of her,’ said Susan.

  I squeezed Susan’s hand, so moved I could barely speak.

  Rhiannon still sneered. ‘Takes good care of her! You must be joking! My mum says it’s appalling. She’s thinking about going to social services and reporting Floss.’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘You heard me. Or if you didn’t, wash your ears out, and wash the rest of you too so you don’t stink so much, Smelly Chip,’ said Rhiannon.

  ‘Your mum isn’t really going to the social services about me, is she, Rhiannon?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, because she’s truly worried about you. First your mum walks out on you—’

  ‘She didn’t! You know she didn’t!’

  ‘And now your dad’s café’s gone bust and you haven’t got a proper home any more and you look a sight and you smell, and now it seems your dad’s dragging you off to his chip van every night and getting into fights and you very nearly end up getting burned to death – your very own words, Smelly Chip. My mum says you need some kind lady to look after you properly. So you wait, the social services will come and get you and put you in care if you don’t watch out.’

  22

  RHIANNON’S WORDS RANG in my head all day at school. Susan kept telling me that I mustn’t worry. Rhiannon was just trying to wind me up. No social worker could ever doubt that I had two parents who loved me and cared for me.

  I knew she was right, but I was scared all the same. When the bell went for home time I peered round the school gates anxiously in case there were social workers lurking, ready to capture me. But there was Dad, smiling and waving his bandages at me.

  ‘Look, there’s Floss’s dad!’

  ‘Hey, Mr Barnes!’

  ‘Hello, Mr Barnes. You’re a hero!’

  Dad grinned at all the kids in my class. Thank goodness he didn’t seem to notice the three girls who walked straight past him, rudely holding their noses.

  ‘How have you been today, Floss? You haven’t felt funny or had any coughing fits, have you? I’ve been a bit worried about you,’ said Dad, cuddling me close.

  ‘I’ve been a bit worried about you, Dad! How have you been today? How are your poor hands?’

  ‘They’re OK, sweetheart. I’ve managed fine, though it’s a bit of a palaver going to the loo! It’s not that easy to cook either. I think you might have to give me a hand making tea.’

  ‘Glad to, Dad.’

  ‘But we’re not having chips! I don’t want to see a chip fryer for a long long long time.’

  ‘Are you going to give up being a chip cook, Dad?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got to work, pet, and there’s not a lot else I can do. I went down the job centre today. The girl there was quite helpful. She even filled in the forms for me, seeing as I’ve got my hands bandaged. Lucky that, as I’m total rubbish when it comes to spelling! But she was quite frank about my chances. They’re not that great. Still, you never know . . .’

  ‘Something might bob up out of the blue!’ we said together as we turned the corner down Oak Crescent.

  There was a bright pink car parked outside Billy’s house. I’d once seen a caravan exactly that colour.

  ‘Dad!’ I said.

  ‘What, pet?’ said Dad. Then he saw it too. He stopped still, staring.

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ I said, starting to run.

  ‘Hey! Hang on, wait for your old dad!’

  I left him behind and rushed to the car. Saul and Jenny were squashed up in the back. Rose was in the front, her beautiful red nails tapping a tune on her white leather steering wheel. She had two red velvety roses dangling from her driving mirror.

  ‘Hello!’ I shouted.

  They all saw me at once. They smiled and started getting out of the car.

  ‘Hello, little Floss,’ said Rose, and she gave me a hug.

  She was wearing tight black trousers and a lovely deep pink top patterned with red roses. Her toenails were painted dark red too, peeping out of her high-heeled sandals. She even smelled of red roses. I wanted to hang onto her and breathe in her lovely soft warm smell.

  ‘So where’s your dad then, Flossie?’ said Rose.

  ‘Just coming! There he is,’ I said, gesturing.

  Dad was ambling along, his arms hanging at his side, head bent bashfully. He looked really odd, as if he was shy.

  ‘Well, goodness me, this is a surprise!’ he said. His voice sounded weir
d too, as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

  He went to shake Rose’s hand and then remembered his bandage. He paused awkwardly, half waving in the air.

  ‘Come here!’ said Rose, and she gave him a big hug too. ‘I want to thank you for looking out for my boy.’

  ‘I didn’t really do anything, honestly,’ said Dad, going bright red in the face, but looking pleased all the same.

  ‘How are your hands, mate?’ Saul asked. He waggled his sling. ‘Look at us! Talk about the walking wounded!’

  ‘You’re a magnet for trouble, Saul, always have been, always will be,’ said Rose, shaking her head. ‘But what about you, Mr Barnes? Are your hands badly burned? Let’s go into the house. I want you to show me. I don’t trust you strong silent types, you don’t make enough fuss! I’m so glad Saul remembered the right house after all. I got a bit worried when we first knocked half an hour ago and no one was in. Still, I thought you were probably meeting your little girl from school – and I was right.’

  ‘My Floss,’ said Dad. ‘Well, come in, come in, all of you.’

  We trooped into Billy’s house. Whisky and Soda and Lucky were waiting in the hall, tails in the air, yowling hopefully for tea. Whisky and Soda backed away and hid behind the sofa, overwhelmed by all the guests, but Lucky was perkily sociable. She gave Saul and Jenny a nod, and actually came and rubbed herself against Rose’s shapely ankles.

  ‘Hello, little cat,’ said Rose, bending to give her a stroke.

  ‘She’s my cat. She’s called Lucky. Oh, she likes you, Rose,’ I said.

  Lucky was daintily licking Rose’s toenails as if in homage.

  ‘And I like her, darling,’ said Rose. She carefully stepped round Lucky into the living room. ‘Oh, what a . . . nice big room,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Yes, you’ve got a lovely huge house, Mr Barnes.’

  ‘Call me Charlie, please. And it’s not my house. It belongs to an old pal of mine. Floss and I are only here temporarily like.’

  ‘It’s not a huge house, Rose,’ I said, puzzled.

  ‘All houses seem enormous to you if you’ve been brought up in a caravan,’ said Rose.

  ‘I love your cosy rosy caravan,’ I said.