The Suitcase Kid

  I was really glad I had a sore throat then, even though it hurt so much. Dad tucked me up in his and Carrie’s bed, making a special nest for me, and then we played paper games all morning, noughts and crosses and Hangman and Battleships. We haven’t been able to play paper games properly for ages because Zen and Crystal are always around and they’re too little to play and just scribble and waste the paper.

  Carrie made this bean casserole thing for lunch but the only sort of beans I like are baked beans out of a tin so I wouldn’t eat any.

  ‘My throat’s too sore,’ I said, making it croak a little more.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Carrie, looking sad. ‘Isn’t there anything I can get you, Andy? What would you really fancy?’

  ‘Jelly.’

  ‘Jelly. Right. I’ll make you a lovely fruit jelly for tea,’ said Carrie.

  She went out and bought some oranges specially, and spent ages in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve never made a jelly before but I think it’s going to turn out all right,’ she said.

  ‘It’s easy peasy to make jelly, you just pour on boiling water and stir,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, that’s jelly out of a packet,’ said Carrie, looking shocked. ‘I’d never give you junk food, Andy. You need natural fresh food with lots of nourishment.’

  Carrie’s jelly didn’t look very nourishing when she brought me a plate at teatime. It was supposed to be orange jelly but it wasn’t orange-coloured. It was a weird sickly brown. It wasn’t jelly either. It didn’t stick. It sort of slid about the plate. Radish was quivering in my hand, ready for another glorious jelly glut, but when she saw it for herself she jumped back into my pyjama pocket, her ears drooping.

  ‘Come on, Andy, eat up your nice jelly,’ said Dad. ‘Isn’t Carrie kind to make it for you specially?’

  ‘I’m not really hungry now.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Andy. You’ve got to eat something.’

  ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘Now don’t start.’

  But I did feel sick, and it wasn’t just to do with the jelly. Mum was due to come and collect me and I knew there was going to be trouble.

  I lay waiting. I heard my un-Uncle Bill’s van draw up outside. I heard Mum’s footsteps and the tap on the steps down to the basement flat. I heard the door-knocker. And then I heard the quarrel.

  ‘What do you mean, Andrea’s in bed? My God, I simply can’t believe this! I didn’t think even you could stoop so low! Just because Andrea was genuinely ill the other weekend . . . Oh, of course she’s not ill this time! You’re just being deliberately obstructive, trying to get your own back in as nasty and spiteful a way as possible . . . It’s just typical! Come on, hand Andrea over this minute.’

  ‘The child is very ill. She has a sore throat, and a fever—’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised, stuck in this damp old flat. It’s disgraceful, no place for young children—’

  ‘Well, if you hadn’t bled me dry over the divorce we could afford a better place—’

  ‘Oh don’t give me that rubbish. And you don’t even make sure Andy has a proper bed. She’s told me about having to sleep on the floor. I can’t believe it, you’re too mean to buy a proper bed for your own little girl – and yet her kids have got bunk-beds, I know. Well, if Andy really is ill then I insist she comes home with me where I can nurse her properly. Andrea? Andrea, where are you, darling? It’s Mummy. I’ve come to take you home with me.’

  I heard her blundering about the flat for quite a while before she got the right room.

  ‘You poor little lamb!’ she said, rushing to me. ‘Why have they stuck you in here? Ugh, in their bed. Come on, let’s put your coat on over your pyjamas. You’re coming home with me this instant.’

  I jumped out of bed obediently and stepped straight into the plate of jelly. I stood shivering, up to my ankles in brown slime.

  ‘Oh my God! What’s that?’ Mum screeched.

  ‘It’s jelly. Carrie made it for me.’

  ‘Jelly!’ snorted Mum. ‘That stupid hippy’s been feeding you that muck and calling it jelly?’

  ‘Will you quit calling Carrie names?’ Dad roared.

  ‘I’ll call her anything I like, the dirty slut! She’s not looking after my daughter again, do you hear me? I’ll send the social services round. You’re daft enough to take on her hippy twins and she looks as if she’s about to have your baby any minute, but I’m telling you one thing – she’s not looking after my daughter, not any more.’

  MUM TOOK ME home with her and said I wasn’t ever going to go back to Dad’s. Dad phoned up and came round and sent furious letters. I stayed in bed with my sore throat and tried to forget about them both. I played lots of Under-the-Bedcovers games with Radish. She had a sore throat too and we knew the only possible cure would be a sip of magical mulberry juice so we searched high and low acrossthe dark and barren land (you try crawling around under your bedcovers) but our throats remained sorely parched.

  ‘What are you doing under there, you daft berk?’

  It was Katie, back from school.

  ‘How’s the poor lickle invalid then?’ she said nastily. ‘When are you going to shove off back to your boring old dad, eh? I’m getting sick of you cluttering up my bedroom. Your mum’s not serious, is she? You’re not going to be here always?’

  I emerged red-faced from under the covers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I mumbled.

  Katie slotted a video into place and pressed the button. A horribly familiar little puppet wobbled into view.

  ‘Oh ha ha, very funny,’ I said.

  Katie played the fast forward so Andy Pandy and Teddy jerked about like crazies and then stopped the tape the moment she spotted the basket.

  ‘Time to get into your basket, Andy,’ Katie said, in the lady’s silly high-pitched tone. ‘Did you get that, Andy Pandy? Fold up your great huge horrible arms and legs and stuff your fat head into your basket, right? I’ll post you off to your dad. Only once the new baby’s born they won’t have room for you there either so you’ll just have to stay stuffed up in your basket for ever, OK, because nobody wants you.’

  I clutched Radish tightly. I knew Katie was just winding me up deliberately. But it was working. I felt wound up. Tied up so tight I could hardly breathe.

  ‘They do so want me,’ I croaked. ‘My mum wants me. My dad wants me. That’s what all the fuss is about now. They both want me so much.’

  ‘Oh no they don’t,’ said Katie. ‘They only go on about you because they want to get at each other. If they really truly wanted you then they’d have stayed in that boring old cottage you keep going on about. But your dad left and your mum left. Your dad wants his new lady. Your mum wants my dad. They want them, not you.’

  ‘Shut up!’ I said, and I reached out of bed and tried to hit her.

  It was just a flabby punch, it couldn’t have hurt her at all, but she immediately started squealing and Mum came running.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter now?’ Mum shouted above the racket, taking hold of Katie.

  ‘Andy’s poked my eye out and it hurts!’ Katie roared.

  ‘Andrea! I thought I’d put a stop to this nonsense! I won’t have you bullying poor little Katie. Come here, Katie, let’s see. Of course your eye’s all right. Although, oh dear, yes, it is a bit red. Andrea, how could you?’

  ‘I didn’t touch her silly old eye,’ I protested truthfully. But then I looked at my fist. Radish’s ears were sticking out of it. It looked as if Radish had done the poking for me.

  I tried to explain but Mum wouldn’t listen. She was very very cross. Then the baboon came home and I eavesdropped anxiously and she told him. And Katie started crying all over again just so that he would make a fuss of her. Then he came into the bedroom to see me and I got really scared.

  I decided to poke his eye too if he shouted or smacked me. He had no right to tell me off. He wasn’t my dad. I suddenly badly wanted my own dad and burst into tears.

  ‘Yes, well, I’m glad t
o see you’re feeling sorry, Andrea,’ he said. ‘Dear oh dear, you little girls! And I thought it would be smashing for you both, being the same age and that. But listen to me, Andrea. I know you’ve had a hard time and you’re not very well just now but that still isn’t really any excuse. You must stop hitting Katie or you’ll really hurt her. She’s only small and she’s not used to such rough and tumble. Her poor old eye is very sore. It could have been really nasty, you know. I don’t want my baby to end up getting badly hurt. She’s been a good little girl sharing her bedroom and all her precious bits and bobs with you. So I’d like you to try to be a bit grateful, Andrea. I know you’re a nice little girl underneath even though you’ve got a bit of a quick temper. You’ve inherited that from your dad, obviously. But you’ve got to learn to control yourself, dear.’

  I had the greatest difficulty controlling myself right that minute. I wanted to scream and kick and hit and rage because it wasn’t fair. Katie always hurts me far more than I can hurt her. And I don’t want to share her horrid bedroom. I want my own bedroom, back in Mulberry Cottage. My own place with my own things where I can be with my own rabbit.

  THE GARDEN IN Larkspur Lane has got a lake! Well, not a proper lake. It’s really a round brick goldfish pond – but it’s a magnificent lake for Radish.

  We go there nearly every day after school, even though the mulberries are finished now. We’ve started to explore the garden properly. Once we thought we saw a face at the window and we had to run like mad. We didn’t go back for several days, walking quickly past the gate without even looking in, but we missed the garden badly.

  Radish jumped over the gate by herself so I had to go after her. I wanted to stay close to the mulberry tree, but Radish found a crazy-paving path and followed it round a corner behind a hedge and there were three mossy steps down into another garden. The lawn was long and lush there too, right up past Radish’s ears, and if I crouched down at her level I couldn’t see the lake until we were right on top of it.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Radish so excited. She loves her dips and diving sessions in the bathroom at Mum’s place (there’s no proper lock on the door at Dad’s and there’s a gap under the bath where the spiders live so Radish doesn’t like playing there) but the lake was pure paradise by comparison.

  She wanted to wade right in straight away, but I kept her paddling cautiously at the edge in case it got too deep. We both got a shock when an orange whale suddenly rose up out of the water and nibbled Radish’s paws. I snatched Radish out of the way. We’ve done the story of Jonah and the Whale at school and I didn’t fancy the idea of gutting a goldfish to retrieve my Radish. But she didn’t seem too bothered by the fish. I looked very carefully at their mouths. They just opened and shut as if they were blowing harmless kisses. They didn’t seem to have teeth. Still, maybe they could suck at Radish and then swallow her down whole.

  I decided Radish had better go boating. I found various big leaves but as soon as I stood her on board the leaves started sinking. I tried collecting twigs but I needed something to stick them all together. I snaffled some Sellotape from the kitchen drawer at Mum’s place and stuck the twigs together the next day and made quite a good little raft but Radish didn’t seem too happy on it. It tipped about too much. I was scared she’d sail right into the middle of the lake and then slide in under the water, out of her depth.

  She needed a proper boat, not a raft.

  I sidled up to Graham after tea the next day.

  ‘Hey Graham,’ I said, smiling at him.

  He blinked a bit behind his glasses. We’ve barely spoken to each other ever since my mum’s lived at his place. He generally makes himself scarce in his room with his computer. He’s clever and gets a lot of extra homework. The baboon calls him the Boy Wonder. I don’t like the way he says it. He doesn’t seem to think that much of Graham. He’s dotty about Katie and he cares a lot about Paula too though he’s always nagging at her for wearing too much make-up and staying out late. But he often makes these snide remarks about Graham. Graham doesn’t say anything back. Graham hardly ever says anything very much.

  ‘Graham, you haven’t got a toy boat, have you? I mean, I know you’re too old for toys now, but did you use to have one?’

  Graham shook his head. ‘I made myself one with a second-hand Meccano set once.’

  ‘Did you? Did it float OK?’

  ‘No, it’s metal, so it wouldn’t float.’

  ‘Well then it was a pretty stupid boat, wasn’t it?’ I said, disappointed. ‘What does float, Graham? I’ve tried wood, but it’s not right.’

  ‘Cork.’

  ‘Cork. What’s that? Oh, I know, like in the top of a bottle. But it wouldn’t be big enough. What else floats?’

  ‘Rubber.’

  I shook my head, thinking about the eraser in my pencil case.

  ‘Still too small. Come on, Graham, what else?’

  ‘Plastic.’

  I thought hard. I went back to the living-room. I borrowed one of the baboon’s tapes, making sure no-one was looking. I tried floating the plastic case in the bath. It did OK, but as soon as I tried to launch Radish on it they both sunk. It needed to be bigger. A video case. Aha.

  The next day after school Radish sailed the good ship Video from one side of the lake to the other. She had the sail up and stood on the sun deck, her black eyes bright with bliss.

  MUM STILL SAID I couldn’t go back to Dad’s Dad got on to his solicitor. We had to have another family counselling session. It was the same lady, the one with the mummy doll and the daddy doll and the bricks to make House A and House B.

  ‘Hello Andrea. How’s Radish?’ she said.

  I just shrugged, but I was impressed that she’d actually remembered Radish’s name.

  Mum and Dad ranted on and on. I didn’t say much at all. Neither did Radish. The lady kept looking in my direction and asking me what we thought. We shrugged so often our shoulders ached.

  It was quite good fun hearing Mum slagging off Carrie and Zen and Crystal and it was quite good fun hearing Dad slagging off the baboon and Paula and Graham and Katie but it was no fun at all hearing them slagging off each other. I started to get my sore throat back, and I felt sick and I had a pain in my tummy. I went off to the toilet down the corridor to see if that might help the pain. I crept back and listened for a bit outside the door.

  ‘How do you think Andrea’s coping with all this?’ said the lady.

  ‘It’s awful for the poor little lamb,’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes, it’s really unsettling her,’ said Dad. ‘Though when she’s been with me a few days she calms down – and by the end of the week she’s almost her old happy self.’

  ‘That’s because she knows she can come back to me soon.’

  ‘That’s absolute rubbish! The poor kid’s been missing me dreadfully, she says so herself.’

  ‘Have there been any behaviour problems at all?’ asked the lady.

  I tensed a little.

  ‘She’s always fine with me.’

  ‘We get on like a house on fire, always have done.’

  ‘It’s just that the school says she’s rather withdrawn and isn’t doing very well at her lessons.’

  ‘What do you mean, withdrawn? She’s always been very outgoing and she’s got heaps of friends.’

  ‘And she’s extremely bright, nearly always top of the class.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but she has had quite a lot to cope with recently.’

  I nodded bitterly behind the door.

  ‘Children in these circumstances often develop worrying little habits which show they’re under stress. They get whiny and demanding. They bite their nails. They often wet the bed.’

  ‘Cheek!’ I whispered. ‘I do not wet my rotten old beds.’

  ‘Sometimes they start stealing, but it’s not as serious as it sounds. It’s simply a way of looking for affection, taking a few treats because they feel very hard done by.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mum, her voice
catching. ‘You see the thing is, Andrea has started taking a few things recently.’

  ‘What????’ I whispered. ‘I haven’t! I’m not a thief! What are you on about, Mum?’

  ‘Well, Andrea’s never stolen anything when she’s with me. So it just shows she wants her dad.’

  ‘It’s not really stealing. And she takes such silly things. Things she can’t possibly want. It’s not as if she helps herself to money or chocolates or anything like that,’ said Mum, sounding nearly in tears. ‘I haven’t said anything to her, but I’ve been getting really worried. It started off with her taking my Sellotape. And then she took one of Bill’s cassettes. I knew she doesn’t like his music so I thought she was just trying to be annoying. But then she took Katie’s video case. That’s what’s really puzzled us. She doesn’t like that video, the Watch with Mother one, the Andy Pandy puppet gets on her nerves. But she didn’t take the video, just the case. What in the world would she want the case for? It doesn’t make sense.’

  I stuck my tongue out at the door. It made perfect sense.

  ‘Perhaps she just wanted to annoy Katie?’ said the lady.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Mum. ‘She certainly doesn’t get on with her. They’re always fighting.’

  ‘She fights a lot with Zen and Crystal too,’ said Dad, ‘but if only Andrea could be with us for longer then I’m sure she’d put down roots and we’d be like one big happy family, especially when the new baby’s here.’

  ‘She needs to be with me,’ said Mum. ‘She can’t cope with the idea of a new stepsister, she’s talked about it to me.’

  ‘Yet she’s already having to cope with five ready-made siblings,’ said the lady. ‘You can’t expect Andrea to get on with them. She doesn’t want to be with them, she doesn’t want to be with your new partners – she simply wants to be with you two.’

  I nod, clutching Radish.

  ‘And of course that’s not possible.’

  It is.

  ‘I wonder where Andrea’s got to? I’d better go and look for her.’