‘In the magic garden?’
‘We are going to have picnics all over the park. Because do you know what? We’re going to camp there, just till Saturday, when Mum will come back.’
‘Camp!’ said Baxter, clapping his hands. ‘Where’s our tent?’
‘We haven’t got a tent, you know that. But we’ll take a blanket and pillows and the plastic tablecloth to go over the top of us in case it rains,’ I said, proud that I’d thought it all out.
‘Will there be horrible creepy-crawlies if we camp?’ said Bliss. She’d watched I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!
‘Absolutely not. If even the tiniest little ant dares to come anywhere near I’ll swat it flat, I promise,’ I said.
‘What about the deer?’
‘Oh, Bliss! You’re the only person in the entire world who could possibly be afraid of deer. They’re so sweet and shy and soft and gentle.’
‘They’ve got those big horn things,’ Bliss persisted.
‘Antlers!’ Baxter shouted. ‘I’m a huge great daddy deer and these are my antlers.’ He held his arms in an arc over his head, and started making snorty noises. ‘Now I’m going to charge.’ He lunged at Bliss, who started squealing.
‘Stop it, Baxter,’ I said, grabbing him.
Baxter subsided, screwing up his face.
‘What? You’re not crying, are you?’
‘No!’ Baxter shouted, though his eyes were watering.
‘I didn’t hurt you. I barely touched you,’ I said, astonished as his tears spilled over. ‘What is it?’
‘I want my daddy,’ Baxter sniffed.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ I said. I tried to put my arms round him but he pushed me away.
‘I don’t want you, I want Dad.’
I sat on the bench, running my finger round my ice-cream bowl and licking it. I didn’t know what to do. I knew Mikey’s mobile-phone number. All right, he was in Scotland, but if I told him Mum had gone off and left us I thought he’d come, job or not. He loved Baxter, I knew that. He loved Bliss too, though she irritated him. He was fond of Pixie. They’d be safe with him. But I wouldn’t. I hated the way he looked at me, some of the things he said. It was just about all right when Mum was around. It would be much too scary without her.
No, we’d be fine. We just had to hide in the park for two days and then it would be Saturday and Mum would be back.
I started packing Mum’s big shopping bag with cornflakes and biscuits and chocolate and apples and Dairylea and crisps. I put cans of Coke and Lilt in another bag, and filled two empty squash bottles with tap water. There! We had just about enough to keep us going for a couple of days. The bags were very heavy though. I’d have to hang them on Pixie’s buggy. I could stuff the buggy with our blankets and pillows too, plus the plastic tablecloth. So what else did we need? A change of clothes each, in case the kids got muddy again. It would be best to pack several pairs of knickers for Pixie, just in case.
I gathered up clothes and inspected our coats. I’d forgotten to hang them up so they were still in a dank sodden heap. Well, it wasn’t cold any more. I had to hope it wouldn’t rain again. I found sweatshirts for each of us, because I knew it would be cooler at night. I didn’t think we need bother with pyjamas. We could just sleep in our clothes.
The last bag was for our favourite things. I packed my angel postcards, my drawing pad and crayons, the fairy-tale book, Headless, the fork-lift truck and Pixie’s pink plastic handbag.
‘There!’ I said at last. ‘Come on, get dressed. And put your sweatshirts on.’
‘It’s too hot!’ said Baxter.
‘Yes, but we can’t carry them, not when we’ve got all these bags. I want you to carry the biggest bag, Baxter. I hope it’s not too heavy for you.’
‘Heavy! It’s ever so light. I can carry it easy-peasy,’ said Baxter proudly.
‘And you must carry the favourite things, Bliss. Do you think you can manage it?’
‘I think so,’ said Bliss. She was scrambling into her clothes, but she looked at her trainers doubtfully. They were thick with mud. ‘Look!’ she said, holding them at arm’s length.
‘It’s OK, we’ll just brush it off. It’s easy now it’s gone hard. Look, we’ll put a newspaper on the floor and then you can bang them together.’
Baxter started banging his together without benefit of the newspaper, sending flakes of mud everywhere. Pixie sat on the floor wiggling her pink toes.
‘No welly boots!’ she said.
‘Well, go and get your shoes, silly. You can put them on yourself because they’ve got sticky straps.’
Pixie put her shoes on and stomped about uncertainly.
‘They feel funny.’
I looked. ‘You’ve got them on the wrong feet, silly. Swap them over. Honestly!’
It seemed hours before I got them all ready. When we were going out of the door at last I had another thought. What if Mum came back early, on Friday? She’d go spare if we were missing. I used up another precious page of my drawing book scribbling her a note:
Dear Mum,
Don’t worry, we are safe and we’ll be back Saturday, I promise. Hope you had a lovely holiday.
I paused, looking around the flat.
Sorry we’ve made a bit of a mess, don’t be cross. Lots and lots and lots of love,
Lily
Baxter and Bliss wanted to print their names at the bottom too, and Pixie did a scribble and a kiss. Then I folded the letter up and put it on Mum’s pillow.
‘There!’ I said. ‘Now, let’s go.’
I left Mr Abbott’s letter sticking out of the letter box. Then I stood for a good two minutes in front of the door not knowing what to do. If I closed it we couldn’t get back in. And yet if I left it on the latch, Mr Abbott might notice and think it odd.
‘What do you think we should do about the front door?’ I asked Bliss.
She blinked at me anxiously.
‘Shut it?’ she said. ‘Or leave it open?’
‘Yes, but which?’
‘Shut it!’ said Baxter, and pulled it. I think he only meant to demonstrate but he pulled too hard. The door shut with a bang.
‘Now you’ve done it!’ I said unfairly.
‘Want to do a wee-wee,’ said Pixie, fidgeting in her buggy.
‘Well, you can’t. You’ll have to wait till we get to the park. OK, come along, all of you.’
I started wheeling the buggy along the balcony as quickly as I could, shushing the twins – but Old Kath already had her door open.
‘Do you kids have to bang the door?’ she said, glaring. She had a cigarette in her mouth and she kept it there when she talked so it moved weirdly up and down.
‘Sorry, Kath,’ I said, wheeling Pixie quickly past.
‘Where are you lot going with all them bags?’ Kath asked.
‘We’re . . . we’re just going down the launderette,’ I said.
‘Looks like you’re washing clothes for an army,’ said Kath, looking at the two bulging bags in the buggy. ‘That mum of yours! Even got the little ones lugging stuff.’
She poked at Bliss’s bag and felt the hard edges of my drawing pad.
‘What’s this then? You lot started to wear cardboard knickers?’ She cackled at her own stupid joke, the cigarette end wobbling, but staying put. Did she stick it to her lower lip with Sello-tape?
I forced myself to smile at her.
‘These are our favourite things, to keep the kids quiet in the launderette.’
‘Keep you lot quiet! That’ll be the day. Your mum couldn’t keep a goldfish quiet, I’m telling you. Where is she then? I want a word with her.’
‘She’s downstairs with another two bags of washing,’ I said.
‘She’s getting like the blooming Scarlet Pimpernel, your mum. You seek her here, you seek her there, and she’s always nipped off somewhere else, leaving you in charge. She’s got a right cheek, turning you into a nanny all the time.’
‘I like looking aft
er the kids,’ I said.
‘Yeah, well, you’re just a kid too, or had you forgotten?’
‘I need a wee-wee,’ Pixie said, still fidgeting.
‘No, you don’t, darling, you’ve only just gone,’ I lied. ‘Well, we’ll have to get going.’ I craned my neck to one side, ear up. ‘I think that was Mum calling for us.’
Old Kath narrowed her eyes.
‘I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Well, you don’t hear so well when you get older, do you?’ I said.
‘You cheeky little madam!’
‘Come on, kids,’ I said, wheeling Pixie past her door, making for the lift.
It didn’t come straight away so we were stuck there, Old Kath calling along to us.
‘You watch out. Next time I’m down the Social I’ll be telling them a few tales on you lot. Your mum’s a shocker, letting you kids run wild and cheek your elders and betters.’
Why couldn’t the old bag mind her own business? When the lift came at last Baxter stuck his finger up at her – and I’m afraid I did too. We shot down in the lift, spluttering and giggling.
‘You’ll make her more cross now,’ said Bliss.
‘I know. But it was worth it, seeing her face,’ I said.
‘Can I do wee-wees in the corner of the lift?’ asked Pixie.
‘No! look, wait till we get to the park. There are toilets at the entrance. You can wait till we get there.’
Pixie couldn’t wait. I had to take her knickers off and hold her out over a drain on the way.
‘I want to go too,’ said Bliss.
‘Well, you’re too big to do it in the gutter,’ I said.
‘I can,’ said Baxter – and demonstrated.
A woman stomped past in high heels, glaring.
‘Dirty boy!’ she said.
I saw the look on Baxter’s face. I knew he was going to aim at her any second.
‘Don’t you dare,’ I hissed. ‘Hurry and finish.’
Baxter took no notice, but luckily the woman had stomped on out of firing range.
‘Put it away – you are a dirty boy!’ I said. ‘Now look, Bliss is right, we’ll make everyone cross with us and then they really will report us. We don’t want anyone noticing us going into the park. They’ll know where to look if they start searching for us.’
‘They’re going to start searching for us?’ said Bliss.
‘If! Now come on, let’s get in the park. You can hold on till then, can’t you, Bliss?’
‘I hope so,’ she said anxiously.
It seemed a longer trek than usual to the park because I was pushing the heavy buggy and we were all loaded up with bags. When we got to the park gates at last, I was busting to go to the toilet, let alone Bliss. I started dragging Baxter in with us, but he struggled violently, pulling a face.
‘I’m not going in the ladies’ toilets!’ he said. ‘I won’t, I won’t, you can’t make me.’
‘All right. But wait right outside, do you hear me? Promise you won’t budge.’
‘I promise.’
‘Promise on Mum’s life.’
‘Yes!’
So we left him outside. I wheeled Pixie into the toilets with us because I didn’t want Baxter messing about with the buggy. It was so loaded up with bags that it tipped over at a touch, especially if Pixie stood up or wriggled around. I let Bliss go to the loo first while I minded Pixie, and then I had my turn.
‘I want to go too!’ Pixie said.
‘No, you don’t. You’ve only just been. Right in the street where everyone could see you.’
‘I want to go again,’ Pixie insisted.
‘Nonsense.’
‘I’m nearly wetting!’
I sighed and got Bliss to hang onto the buggy handle while I hauled Pixie out into a toilet. She sat there, waving her legs and laughing.
‘Come on, Pixie.’
‘It won’t come.’
‘Well, you didn’t need to go, then. Come here.’ I lifted her off and pulled her knickers up – but the second she was back in her buggy she started all over again.
‘Want to do a wee-wee!’
‘You’re just playing silly games with us. You’re so naughty, Pixie. It isn’t funny,’ I said sternly.
Bliss was covering her mouth, making little snorty noises.
‘It is a little bit funny,’ she spluttered.
We both laughed then and Pixie cackled too, proud that she was such a brilliant entertainer.
‘Come on, you giggly sillies,’ I said, wheeling Pixie’s buggy out of the toilets.
‘Sorry we’ve been so long, Baxter,’ I started saying – but Baxter wasn’t there.
‘Baxter? Baxter! I told you to stay here. You promised,’ I said, raising my voice.
I thought he was hiding behind the hedge, but there was no sign of him. I wondered if he’d gone to the gents’ toilets and called outside. I even ran in quickly to check, but he wasn’t there either.
‘Oh no, where’s he gone?’ I said.
‘He’s so bad,’ said Bliss.
‘Bad bad bad,’ said Pixie in a silly voice, wanting to make us laugh again, but it wasn’t funny any more.
I screwed up my eyes and squinted as far as I could see – up the big hill, along the path in front, around near the road. I couldn’t see Baxter anywhere.
‘He’s run away,’ said Bliss, starting to cry.
‘Of course he hasn’t. He’s just being naughty, hiding.’ I looked over to the car park. ‘I bet he’s over there, hiding behind one of those cars. Come on, we’ll go and look for him.’
We crossed the road carefully and went into the car park. It was hard work pushing the buggy on the gravel. I zig-zagged round the rows of cars as best I could, while Bliss ran ahead, calling for Baxter. I kept expecting him to leap out at us, shouting, Boo! but nothing happened. There was still no sign of him.
A man unwound his car window.
‘What’s up, girlies? Has your dog run away? Tell you what, why don’t you get in my car and I’ll drive you around to see if you can spot him?’
He looked kind and concerned but there was something odd about his smile.
‘We’re not allowed to talk to strangers,’ I gabbled, and I ran with the buggy, tugging Bliss along with me.
‘Was that a bad man?’ she panted.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Lily, do you think a bad man’s grabbed Baxter?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, but the idea panicked me. Baxter thought he was so streetwise but he was just a very little kid. If some Mikey-type guy in a flash car had driven up outside the toilets and offered Baxter a lift he’d have been off like a shot. Oh God, why didn’t I make him come into the toilets with us?
The man who had spoken to us was getting out of his car now, still looking over at us.
‘Quick, we’ve got to get out of here,’ I said. ‘Let’s go in that little playground.’
We ran hard, Pixie jolted up and down in the buggy. She laughed at first, thinking it a game, but then she started to get frightened.
‘Slow down, slow down!’ she demanded.
‘We can’t, Pixie. We’re looking for Baxter.’
‘Baxter’s there,’ she said.
‘What? Where?’ I whirled round. ‘No, he’s not. Pixie, this isn’t a silly game! Baxter’s gone missing.’
‘Baxter, Baxter, Baxter!’ said Pixie, pointing up in the air, as if her brother were floating above her head.
I crouched down at her level and looked upwards too. I saw the top of Baxter’s head bobbing up and down inside the little playground. I ran – and there he was, jumping about on top of the slide, yelling, ‘I’m the boss of this den!’
I parked Pixie with Bliss and scrambled up after him.
‘Get down!’
He thought I was playing and aimed a twig at me like a gun, pretending to fire. I slapped it out of his hand and then I slapped him.
‘Ouch! Stop it! Don’t hit me! I’ll hit you back, h
arder,’ he yelled.
‘I told you to stay outside the toilets and you promised you would, you promised on Mum’s life!’
‘I didn’t want to stay outside any smelly ladies’ toilets,’ he wailed, knuckling his eyes.
‘We thought you were lost, you stupid little idiot,’ I said, giving him a shake for emphasis.
‘I’m not stupid! You are! You’re a mean fat farty pig and I hate you!’ Baxter said, the tears rolling down his cheeks.
‘I hate you too,’ I said, but already I felt the anger seeping out of me. I searched my pocket and found a little screwed-up tissue. I dabbed at Baxter’s face with it.
‘Get off!’ he said.
I didn’t get off, I pulled him closer, and when I hugged him he leaned against me, allowing himself to sob because his face was hidden.
Bliss was crying too, standing forlornly beside Pixie and the buggy.
‘Come on, Baxter, let’s get down,’ I said gently. ‘We’ve got to give Bliss a hug too.’
I slid down and Baxter slid after me on his tummy.
‘It’s OK, Bliss. Baxter’s safe and sound. I’m not cross any more. It’s all right now,’ I said.
Bliss went on howling.
‘It’s – not – all – right,’ she gasped between sobs. ‘It’s Mum!’
‘Mum? What do you mean?’
‘Baxter swore on Mum’s life! So now she’ll be dead!’
‘Oh no she won’t. Don’t say that. Especially not in front of Pixie. No, Mum’s fine. She’ll be having a lovely time with this new boyfriend of hers,’ I said bitterly. ‘She’ll be lying on the beach in a new bikini right this minute, snogging away.’
‘Yuck,’ said Baxter.
‘Yes, double yuck,’ I said. ‘We won’t worry about Mum, Bliss, because she’s not the slightest bit worried about us. We can manage just fine without her, if we’re all careful. We’ve got to stick together. Do you hear that, Baxter? This isn’t a game where we can all muck about. This is deadly serious. We’ve got to hide here till Saturday, which means we’ve got to stay out of everyone’s way, not draw attention to ourselves. From now on we have to act like we’re invisible. We absolutely mustn’t shout back at people or be rude or cheeky or do anything at all that makes them remember us. We must just look like four children out for the day with their mum or their dad – and our grown-up just happens to have run ahead or lagged behind, whatever—’