Megan 3 Page 10

  I pulled a funny face, trying to make him laugh, but Jack just looked up at me, bottom lip trembling. He wasn’t himself; I could see that. Maybe he had a cold coming.

  I turned my mind to other things. What was I going to say to George about his wife coming round? Should I say anything at all? If I didn’t say anything, would he even find out she’d been? What about the messages she’d sent to Mum?

  In the end, I decided not to say a word to either of them. I got the shopping and when I got back Ellie was in from school. I told her about George’s wife of course, and she and I made a huge cauliflower cheese and giggled about what she’d said. When Mum and George came in from work we had the cauliflower with some fish fingers (George: ‘I’m not used to these bits of meals. I’m used to meat and two veg.’) and then they announced they had the keys to the new house and were going to have another look at it. Two days before, someone had put in an offer for our flat, so they were reasonably sure we would be moving.

  ‘Oh, can Megan and I come?’ Ellie asked straight away.

  ‘We are going to be living there!’ I said.

  George shook his head impatiently. ‘We can’t all go. Five of us – it’d be like a bloody circus.’ He looked at Jack, who had definitely started a cold now and was watery-eyed, with a runny nose. ‘Can’t you wipe that child’s nose? He’s putting me off my supper.’

  ‘We can come and see the house, can’t we, Mum?’ I asked.

  Mum looked at George. ‘It would be all right, wouldn’t it? The girls would love to see their rooms.’

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘If you like. I suppose so.’

  Quite excited, Ellie and I went to get ready. I changed Jack’s nappy and wiped his face. He was all bunged up and his nose looked sore already; I hoped I wasn’t going to have another bad night with him.

  The house was empty. It was on the other side of town, about twenty years old, terraced, quite tall and on three floors. Downstairs there was a big kitchen and living room, you went up one set of stairs to two of the bedrooms and then up again for the other two. One of these rooms was tiny and had been done out by the previous owner as a study.

  ‘George and I thought you and Jack could be up on this floor,’ Mum said when we reached it, ‘and our bedroom and Ellie’s will be on the next floor down.’

  ‘That way, with a bit of luck, we won’t hear any noise from that child of yours,’ George put in.

  I fumed but kept quiet, not wanting to start a row what with it being our first time in the house.

  The three of them went downstairs to look at their own rooms and I stayed in the room which was going to be Jack’s. There wasn’t enough space for a wardrobe and it was painted a horrible dark green, but it was his very own.

  ‘You in here. All on your own!’ I said to him. ‘I’m going to paint it buttercup yellow and you’re going to have a proper bed and everything and you’ll sleep all night.’ I took him over to the window and looked down to the garden, which was long and narrow, with a tall fence right round and two trees in the centre of it. ‘You can climb those trees,’ I said. ‘And you can have your duck down there with you to pull around, and ride one of those little bikes and play out there all the time.’

  Jack rubbed his eyes and pushed his head into my neck, not interested. ‘Just wait,’ I said. ‘You’re going to love it.’ I walked into what would be my room. My own room. By myself, that I wouldn’t have to share with anyone. It was square and plain but it had a built-in wardrobe and enough space for a table. I could paint it what colours I liked and hang sari fabric at the window and it would be brilliant.

  I could hear the others underneath, moving around, and then Ellie came running up the stairs, really excited. ‘Won’t it be fantastic!’ she said. ‘Have you seen the garden?’ Before I replied she went on, ‘George says you and I can share this shower up here and they can have the one on the middle floor all to themselves. Come down and see my room – I’m going to paint it green and silver and the ceiling is going to be purple.’

  ‘Yuk,’ I said.

  ‘You won’t be painting it those colours, young lady,’ George said, appearing on the landing. ‘I’m not having any house of mine rendered unsaleable.’

  I looked at Ellie and rolled my eyes.

  ‘And the ceilings will stay white, thank you very much.’

  ‘Well,’ Ellie faltered. ‘I’m going to take the carpet up and have stripped pine floors – like they did on that homes programme.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ George said.

  ‘Can’t she do that?’ we heard Mum ask.

  ‘I don’t want to be an old misery,’ George said, as if he wasn’t, ‘but bare floorboards are blasted noisy. Get two people walking on them and it sounds like a herd of elephants.’

  ‘Never mind,’ I said in a low voice to Ellie. ‘At least we can be away from them. We can get our own telly, stay in our rooms and let them get on with it.’

  *

  Jack was really grotty by the time we got home. I’d run out of clean tissues by then and his nose was running horribly, so that George shuddered as he held the car door open for us.

  ‘Clean him up a bit, can’t you?’ he said, making a big thing about looking the other way.

  ‘I will soon as we get in,’ I said. ‘Anyway, he can’t help it.’ Didn’t your kids ever have colds? I wanted to ask.

  When we went in there was a note on the mat from Mark. It said, ‘What’s wrong with your phone? Where are you all?’

  ‘Oooh!’ Ellie wailed. ‘We missed him.’

  ‘He’ll be back,’ I said.

  I went into the bathroom to run a bath, telling Mum I was going to bath Jack at the same time.

  George, settling himself in front of the TV, said, ‘Keep it to a few centimetres, will you? There’s a water shortage.’

  ‘What water shortage?’ I said. ‘I haven’t seen anything in the papers.’

  ‘Hot water costs money,’ he said, ‘and a bath takes a whole tank of hot water.’

  I looked at Mum and raised my eyebrows. He was too much – and it was the second time that day he’d had a go at me about money. I’d phoned Claire earlier to give her our new number and tell her about the house and George had been standing by the phone tapping his fingers impatiently the whole time I was on. As it happened, I was glad to get off because all Claire had wanted to talk about was the holiday next April that three of them, Josie, Tina and her, were going on together, what a laugh they were going to have, what boys they were going to meet and how fantastic it was all going to be. I certainly hadn’t wanted to hear that.

  ‘At least Megan’s bathing two for the price of one,’ Mum said now.

  George didn’t answer. Mum went into the kitchen saying she was going to put the kettle on and I put Jack on the sitting-room floor with his duck.

  Jack stopped grizzling for a moment and began to push the duck along, quack-quack-quack.

  ‘D’you have to give him that duck?’ George said. ‘I can’t hear myself think once that bloody thing starts.’

  ‘It’s only for a minute,’ I said. ‘It’s just to keep him quiet while I get the bath ready.’

  ‘And wipe his nose!’

  ‘I just did.’ I stared at George: it hadn’t taken him long to show what he was really like. It was no wonder that his wife had been glad to get rid of him, I thought, remembering that I’d never told him she’d been round. I went out of the room and started collecting stuff for our baths: towels and clean flannel, vest and sleeping suit for Jack, dressing gown for me, bubble bath and baby lotion for both of us. I turned off the bath water about an inch under my usual full-to-the-brim and went back into the sitting room to collect Jack. We’d both have a nice bath and play in the bubbles, and perhaps it would tire Jack out so that he would sleep soundly.

  As I crossed the hall to get him, though, I heard him start screaming. I ran in – and Mum ran in from the kitchen, too – to see him lying on his back on the floor, yelling the place
down.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, snatching up Jack.

  George shrugged. ‘Nothing. He fell over, that’s all. Lost his balance.’

  I pressed Jack against me and rocked him.

  ‘He’s not hurt, is he,’ George said. ‘Only winded a bit.’

  Jack screamed on while Mum examined his face. ‘There are no cuts and bruises, Megan. He seems all right.’

  I was too scared to look myself. ‘Is he? Are you sure?’

  ‘Not even a graze. You’re all right, poppet, aren’t you? Take him off, Megan. Give him his bath.’

  I looked at George sitting there, one leg casually crossed over the other, reading the paper. His foot, balanced in the air, was just inches from where Jack had been sitting. It would only have taken him a moment to have kicked out and pushed Jack over. Maybe, if Jack had been grizzling continually, or making the duck quack too much … Maybe, if Jack had got on his nerves…

  But maybe I was just being silly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ Mark said. ‘That’s what you really need – some space and a room of your own.’

  Mark and I were sitting on the sofa with Jack between us. Jack was ‘reading’ a board book, trying to find the duck he knew was on one of the pages. It was a week or so later – a Friday afternoon – and everything seemed to be going well with buying the new house.

  ‘I bet Jack will sleep better on his own, too. Stands to reason – while you’re all sleeping in the same room you must disturb each other.’ Mark looked at me. ‘What’s this George like, then? I mean, not being funny but I can’t imagine what sort of man your mum would go for.’

  ‘I dunno,’ I said, screwing up my face. ‘I don’t know what he’s like really. He’s one of those people you can’t put your finger on.’

  ‘An estate agent type, all mouth and trousers?’ Mark asked.

  I grinned. ‘Yeah, a bit like that. Fine upstanding citizen sort of thing, always in a suit.’

  ‘Good bloke? Funny?’

  ‘Well, at first he was. Not funny, exactly, but jolly with us and talking about us being a proper family. Then as soon as he had his feet under the table he started changing, making comments about Jack being naughty and getting in digs about him never sleeping. And a couple of times he’s really lost his temper.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘With Jack.’

  ‘With Jack?’ Mark repeated, frowning.

  ‘Ellie and I think he resents us. He’d rather have Mum all to himself.’

  Mark shrugged. ‘Par for the course, that is – but I don’t like people who lose their tempers with babies. That’s not good.’

  I sighed. ‘I know. I feel all mixed-up about it, really. I mean, things are much easier – shopping, for instance, and George can do stuff round the house, but I just don’t like him. The thought of living with him in his own house! I mean, this place is Mum’s and it’s difficult, but the new place will be his and Mum’s.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Mark said. ‘You’ll just have to take it slowly, I guess. Living with someone for the first time is always difficult. So they say.’

  ‘And he’s got kids already. A boy and a girl. I’ve never heard that he’s been to see them, though. I wonder how they feel about that.’

  ‘Abandoned, I should think,’ Mark said in a level voice. ‘That’s the word.’ He went all quiet.

  I gave him a push. ‘It’s not like you. You weren’t abandoned.’

  ‘Wasn’t I?’

  ‘Lorna didn’t just go off and leave you without a thought. She spent ages worrying about what would be best for you, and crying about it and thinking about it.’

  ‘Right,’ he said.

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Mark, honestly. She couldn’t be more sorry. She feels terribly guilty about it. She told me she’d do anything to turn the clock back.’ This drew no response so I added, ‘She really, really loves you.’

  ‘Yes, well …’ Mark said. He rested his chin on Jack’s head.

  ‘And she did do the best for you, didn’t she? You had a good childhood and you get on great with your mum and dad, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s not the point. Would you part with Jack? Ever?’

  I shook my head. ‘It was different in those days, though.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘She’d love to see more of you,’ I persisted. ‘Hasn’t she asked you to go up there?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It would make her week… make her century if you did. I wish you would.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘I’d better go. I’m covering an author visit to the library this evening.’

  ‘What have you got to do?’

  He stood up. ‘Well, it’s not exactly hold the front page stuff – just take a photo of some famous old trout opening the new crime bookshelves.’

  I stood up to go to the door with him. ‘Ellie will kill me when she finds out she’s missed you again.’

  ‘Tell her I’ll come over next week specially to see her. And I might see you one morning before that – OK?’

  ‘OK.’ I grinned. I’d told Mark about Mr Creep and he said he’d come along on one of our journeys, just to show him that I wasn’t all alone in the world.

  ‘How’s the bloke who was chatting you up, by the way?’

  ‘Jon?’ I shook my head. ‘Nothing to report. He was supposed to come and take me out but he didn’t.’

  Mark gave me a smacker of a kiss on the cheek. ‘Never mind. Jack still loves you,’ he said.

  As I opened the front door, Ellie practically fell into our hall. It was only the fact that she was hanging on to Jamie which prevented her.

  ‘Ah, now you can see Ellie and her boyfriend,’ I said to Mark, grinning.

  ‘He’s not a boyfriend!’ Ellie said. She dropped her arms from around Jamie’s neck. ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ she said, flustered.

  ‘See, you’d have seen Mark if you’d come straight home from school like a good girl,’ I said, ‘with no snogging on the way,’ I added in an undertone.

  ‘Shut up!’ she hissed at me.

  ‘So this is your not-boyfriend, is it?’ Mark said. ‘And there’s me thinking you were saving yourself for me.’

  Jamie disappeared with a ‘See you,’ and Ellie never even glanced after him. ‘Oh, don’t go. Stay and talk to me,’ she said to Mark. ‘I’ll play you my new CD.’

  ‘Can’t do it, love,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an important press call.’ He winked at me. ‘I’ll see you both next week. Right?’

  He went off and Ellie gazed down the corridor after him. ‘Gorgeous or what,’ she breathed.

  That evening, after Jack had gone to bed, Mum got out some paint charts and George said we could choose what colours we wanted for our rooms, because apparently the firm of decorators that the estate agents used were going to paint them before we moved in. Ellie and I looked at each other, pleased. Maybe he’d relented and we could have buttercup yellow and green and silver after all.

  And then we looked at the paint charts. ‘Out of these?’ I said, looking at the colours on the card. ‘They’re white, white and off-white. I can hardly see any difference between them.’

  ‘They’re all neutrals,’ George said. ‘Pale, restful colours.’

  Ellie nudged me to say something.

  ‘Why can’t we have our rooms proper colours? Bright colours?’ I asked.

  George shook his head. ‘Because, with your neutrals, it’s easier if you want to change your décor and the colour of your duvet and so on. Also it’s better when it comes to selling again.’

  ‘But I wanted a nice bright yellow for Jack’s room,’ I said.

  ‘This one here’s called daffodil white,’ Mum said. ‘It’s quite yellow.’

  ‘Hardly,’ I said witheringly. I was tired and fed up and now I couldn’t even have Jack’s bedroom the colour I wanted it. ‘I’m not asking for it to be bright red or anything – just yellow!
That’s not exactly outlandish, is it?’

  Mum shot a look at George. It was funny, I’d always thought of her as a bold, outspoken sort of woman, but since George had come on the scene she’d gone a bit fluffy. She didn’t seem to have opinions of her own any more.

  ‘We’ll see later, perhaps – after we’ve moved in,’ she said to me.

  ‘No, we won’t!’ George said. ‘I don’t want either of the girls decorating their own rooms and making a mess of them. We’re moving to a nice house in a nice area and I want to make sure it stays that way.’

  Mum looked at Ellie and me and said, kind-of like an apology, ‘George and I are sinking all our money into this house.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It’s not fair!’ Ellie said. ‘We ought to be allowed to have what colours we want for our own bedrooms!’

  ‘Well, you’re not,’ George said. ‘And just count yourself lucky you’re coming to this house at all.’

  Ellie gave a little gasp at this and I bit my lip and looked over to Mum, wanting her to say something. She didn’t though, so I just gave George a hate-filled glare and got up and went into the bedroom, creeping in quietly so as not to wake Jack.

  ‘Pig!’ I muttered to myself. ‘Fat pig.’

  I laid down on my bed. I hated him – but what did that matter? Mum liked him, Mum wanted him and in time, I expected that Mum would marry him. And if I fell out with him I would find myself living in a horrible B and B somewhere.

  I hadn’t said anything to anyone about Jack falling over the other evening. I just wasn’t sure enough. Jack might have been on the floor by accident: he did fall and roll over a lot, and somehow it was easier to think that this was what had happened. If I started to question this, came to believe George had kicked him, then I’d have to do something about it.

  What, I didn’t know. Mum more than likely wouldn’t believe me, would think I was only saying it because I didn’t get on with George. If I told someone else – who? Vicky? – she might get the Social Services down to ask me a whole lot of questions, and they might say that Jack and I had to be separated from George, and put me somewhere grotty. Worse – horrendous – they might think that Jack wasn’t safe and take him away from me.