Invisible Girl Part 11

Mum and Dad stand in front of each other, their eyes yellow with poison, their hot tongues licking each other with fire.

"So stop me then," Dad seethes. "I'll have you over the coals with Social Services in no time." He casts his hand over the toppling piles of mess in the room. "Just look at this place," he hisses. "It's disgusting in here. Needs a public health warning!"

Dad grabs my arm and pulls me up, scattering the kids, leaving them struggling like frightened ants. Then Mum's there, grabbing the other arm, and I'm five again, in the middle of their fight, being ripped in half like a piece of Henny's bubblegum.

"I don't want either of you," I screech, crumpling on the floor with my head in my hands. "I don't want either of you. I just want Beckett!"

With all the noise no one hears the motorbike roar up or the front door squeak open.

But we all hear it slam.

And then we all hold our breath and freeze.

"h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo," says Kev, scratching his beard, looking round the room. "What the bucket of roses is going on here?"

Mum slumps down on the sofa, switches the telly up even louder and ignores him. Dad ignores him too. He picks up another biscuit and snaps it in half, spraying crumbs through the air. Connor scrabbles back on my lap, pressing his face close up to my ear. Kev grunts that he's starving hungry and shuffles into the kitchen.

"Right," hisses Dad, yanking on my arm. "Enough of this malarkey, young lady."

I've turned into a rag doll with no stuffing left inside me. Jayda clambers on to my lap. She covers my face with dribbly kisses that are so loving I'd like to scoop them up and keep them safely in a sc.r.a.pbook forever. Mum gathers the tea things and shuffles into the kitchen after Kev. Connor presses his face even closer to my ear, twiddling my hair through his sticky fingers.

"I know Beckett," he whispers and my heart stops, "He comes to my school to say h.e.l.lo. I do know him. He gave me Yellow Bunny."

My breath catches in my throat.

"Go and start the car, Dad," I say, "I'll be out in a minute."

I stare at Connor. His eyes twinkle with hope.

"Tell him I've been here," I whisper, "next time he comes to school. Tell him I've been here and that now I'm back with my dad and I'm living near the swimming pool. Please tell him, Connor, please!"

We climb into Dad's car and drive along in silence, making our way out of the city, on to the long ribbons of motorway. I can't stop worrying about Connor and Jayda, about leaving them in Manchester with Mum. I can't stop thinking about Beckett.

"What did happen to Beckett, Dad?" I ask, at last. "Why won't Mum talk about him?"

"Search me," shrugs Dad. "How in heaven's name should I know, or even care for that matter? He's nothing to do with me."

Dad's words dig into my skin. Why doesn't anyone care about Beckett but me?

"All right, Gabriella?" says Amy, when we get to her mum's.

She's stretching out on a sun lounger, soaking up the warmth of the late summer evening. "Get me a drink will you, babe," she says to Dad, wiggling her wedding ring finger in the air so the golden band glows. "Then we can light the little garden lanterns, can't we? And make everything all romantic like."

I ignore Amy and sit on her mum's white plastic back-door step, watching a little fat b.u.mblebee darting in and out of a flower. I wish I had my paper and my pens. I'd like to draw that bee heading over towards Amy to sting her.

"I've made up a camp bed for you in the little back room, princess," says Amy's mum, flitting about with a yellow duster in her hand. "Now, where are your things? You're probably tired out after that long journey of yours."

"I don't have any stuff," I say, kicking Mum's trainers off. "I lost it all."

Amy's ears p.r.i.c.k up. "Lost it all, Gabriella?" she shrieks. "What are you talking about?"

I begin to search for the minty feeling inside, but her stony glare sends it running for cover. The burning arrows firing from her eyes scorch the soft bit in the middle of my bones.

I shrug. "I just lost it," I say, swallowing hard.

"Oh, Dave!" she says, flapping her arms about. "I told you it was a big mistake getting her back. You should have kept your trap shut and left things how they were." Her eyes pin me to the spot. "Well, if you think we're going to rush out and buy you a load of new stuff, Gabriella, you've got another think coming! You should've been more careful."

"How can you have just lost it all?" sighs Dad. "What d'you mean, just lost it? It was in a blimming big bag!"

"I just did."

"You've got your uniform, though, right?" says Dad, stripping off his s.h.i.+rt and flumping down on a garden chair, his lobster-red tummy quivering like jelly. "You've got that, haven't you?"

I shake my head.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Gabriella," he says. "What did you do with it?"

I sit there in silence, staring at the shadow on the path, vivid images swirling.

My school uniform, those ridiculous big PE knickers stuffed in the train carriage bin.

My A* schoolbooks slos.h.i.+ng down the toilet. Colin's leering snow face.

The laptop lady's soft hands tapping.

The smell of the No Fear skateboarder's pasty.

The busker girl with the guitar I wanted to hide in, the coins in her hat glinting in the sunlight.

The silky black tattoo angel wings.

Henny, her stripy pink hair and dark smudgy eyes.

Kingdom, swoos.h.i.+ng up and down in his big black car.

Tia wrapping herself in her long sleeves, resting her sad, thin face on her knees.

The black gungy bin with the slimy ketchup and the stolen tiara winking at me.

The little brown dog weeing.

Tia's dad's big fat fists squis.h.i.+ng me.

And those voices flying from the Cathedral like doves.

"It's been the long day," says Amy's mum, staring at her watch. "The nights will start drawing in soon." She picks up a green plastic watering can and gives her flowers a shower. She takes a dead head from a rose, pulls a slug off a cabbage and tuts. "I s'pose it's all downhill to winter."

Amy's mum finds me a nightdress with little purple flowers on it and itchy frills round the neck. She runs me a shoulder-deep lavender bubble bath and bustles in with hot chocolate for me. I cover myself with the flannel and she smiles and fills a white plastic jug with water to wash my hair even though I can do it myself.

"Never mind, princess," she says, tucking me into the little wobbly camp bed, after she's brushed and dried my hair. "It'll all work out. It always does. I promise."

When I'm just about to fall asleep Dad pops his head round the door.

"Night then," he says, leaning on the doorframe, checking his big fat tummy in the mirror on the wall.

"Why did you bring me back, Dad?" I whisper. "Why did you bother? Why didn't you just leave me there with Mum and Connor and Jayda?"

Dad shrugs his shoulders, his tummy wobbling under their weight.

"The police, I s'pose," he says. "I don't want to get locked up, Gabriella, do I? Not for something as stupid as this! Plus, if the truth be told, I couldn't stand the guilt of it. It niggled away too much."

When Dad leaves the room I wipe away a sneaky tear. I'd have quite liked it if he'd said he missed me, or something nice like that.

I lie in the little camp bed listening. Amy's voice slides under the door like a snake. The telly sounds vibrate through the walls. An owl in a nearby tree hoots. Fighting cats yowl and screech on the fence. The late night car tyres swish by.

Amy's mum's sheets are soft on my face, the pillow like marshmallow. And for the first time in ages I'm in a clean bed with a gla.s.s of water on the table by my side. And Grace's mum is round the corner. Slowly, slowly, sleep creeps in and covers me in velvet.

Amy's mum wakes me early with a cup of tea and four bourbon biscuits. I put Tia's clothes on and we slip out of the house without waking up Dad. We drive to Sainsbury's and she picks out some new school uniform things for me, a pair of pyjamas, two T-s.h.i.+rts, some long-sleeved tops, some jeans and three dresses.

"Dad doesn't have the money for them," I say, nervously twisting a tissue in my hands. "He won't be able to pay you back."

Amy's mum smiles and throws some oranges in the trolley, a packet of Shreddies, some strawberry yogurts and fresh crusty bread. She buys a special snack-pack with ham and cheese for my lunch and some crisps and a chocolate cupcake and a carton of fresh juice with bits in, not squash.

She grabs some sparkly hair bobbles from the swing-around stand, some white socks, a pack of different coloured knickers with b.u.t.terflies on, some black pumps and a cute little necklace with a silvery heart.

"I don't have any grandchildren of my own, yet," she whispers, her eyes twinkling as she throws two chocolate eclairs into the trolley and a big bottle of lemonade for later. "So I don't see why I shouldn't spoil you instead."

Then it's like she can't stop herself. She throws a Mizz mag in the trolley and this amazing purple watch with pretend diamonds on it and some bangles. She lets me choose a new pencil case and I get a blue denim one with little red flowers embroidered all over it.

And a new pack of pencils and felt tip pens.

I wonder if Amy had this much stuff when she was small.

At McDonald's we huddle in the toilets getting me changed for school. Amy's mum brushes my hair, battling with my unruly curls. We eat Egg Mcm.u.f.fins for breakfast and we don't talk much and it's lovely, just being together, without her asking questions. I slide along the seat so our arms almost touch while we chew.

When we get to my old school, Dad's pacing up and down outside the gates like a tiger in a cage. My heart dips. My mouth goes dry.

"Where you been?" he says, grabbing my arm. "I've been doing my pieces here, waiting."

Amy's mum takes charge.

"We went to buy uniform, didn't we Gaby?" she says, looking Dad up and down with disappointment flickering in her eyes. "Someone had to, Dave!"

Dad wipes the sweat from his face.

"Right. Well. Thanks, then," he says, s.h.i.+fting from one foot to another. "Come on, Gabriella, let's get this over and done with, shall we? Let's face the music with that headmaster of yours."

We walk to the school office in silence, our hearts hammering. Then Dad goes inside with the headmaster and the school secretary sends me off to cla.s.s.

"Gabriella!" calls Grace, bounding across the playground like a puppy in the park. "You're back!"

"Where did you go?" whispers Grace, during Science while we're testing the temperature of the water in our polystyrene cup.

I don't know how to answer. There's so much to tell, but nothing she'd understand. And if she tells her mum then my dad might get in trouble with the police.

"I told you. I went to my mum's."

"Then why are you back?" she says, writing the temperature on our results table.

I wish I could spill everything out. I wish I could tell her about Henny and Tia, sleeping on the warehouse roof with the sounds of the city blaring below and the huge blue moon s.h.i.+ning on my drawings. I wish I could tell her about the fire in the shop and the diamonds of gla.s.s shattering all over the ground. I wish I could tell her how much the blood raced round my body when I broke into the apartment so Henny could steal things. And that a big black car chases me through the night in my dreams; hiding in the shadows, waiting to catch me.

"Dad changed his mind," I say. "He came back for me."

I pour boiling water into a gla.s.s beaker and watch the wispy steam rise. Grace's curtain of hair falls in front of her face and she tucks it behind her ear so she can write numbers on our chart neatly.

"Zoe's mum says the police are involved," she says. "That they're after your dad for taking you out of school for so long."

I shake my head and use my new pencils to colour in our graph. Grace tells me about a sleepover she had with Zoe and Elsie at the weekend. She tells me all about the film they watched and the milkshakes they made that spilt everywhere. And that they couldn't stop laughing. She talks non-stop and I like hearing the sound of her voice again. And I don't know why, but I feel like crying.

After school Zoe comes racing over and threads her arm through Grace's. They kind of pull in, close together, in a way that makes me ache.

"I'm so excited!" Zoe says, her eyes glittering in the sunlight. Zoe's all glittery and s.h.i.+mmery everything.

I feel in my hair and touch the glittery bobbles Amy's mum bought me from Sainsbury's. And then Grace's mum pulls up in her red car. She winds down the window and turns her soft face right towards us, so we can see the whole of it, her red lips and everything, smiling. And my heart pounds so I put my hand on my chest in case she hears.

"We're going swimming," says Grace, touching my wrist. "We planned it yesterday. I didn't know... I didn't know you'd be back otherwise I'd have invited you. But we'll go soon, yeah?"

They climb into the car, all girl legs and arms, and clunk the door shut. I hear their seatbelts click in place. Grace's mum looks at me. She smiles and blows me a kiss and I hold my breath while it travels on the breeze to my cheek.

And then she says, "Ready, girls?" And they drive away.

Mrs Evans rushes over to me.

"I'm glad I caught up with you," she says, looping a long, rainbow-coloured silk scarf around her neck. "Is everything OK, Gabriella? We were so worried about you when you disappeared."

A lump grows in my throat. All the words I can't say, pressing hard to get out.

I nod, keeping my eyes on a little train of ants creeping along the pavement. I don't trust myself to look at her in case her kind eyes make me cry or blurt stuff out.

"I went to my mum's," I say. "Dad forgot to let the school office know."

"You would say though," she says, fixing the big bra.s.s buckle on her bag. "You know, you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

"Nothing's wrong," I say, feeling suddenly annoyed by Mrs Evans. "I'm OK."

I walk back to Amy's mum's house slowly, wis.h.i.+ng I could've gone swimming with Grace and then back to her house for tea. If I could've chosen, I'd have had her mum's creamy fish pie and peas. I'd have borrowed Grace's flowery bikini, the one she got at the airport when she was on her way to Greece.

I'm scared of seeing Dad, or scared that the police have taken him away. I sit on a bench in the park and listen to the traffic climbing the hill. I wish Tia were around, or even Henny. I feel too sad just sitting here alone.