The Illustrated Mum (25 page)

“She started it,” I said. “She woke me up by hitting me.”

“Now now, don't tell tales,” said Aunty Jane.

I burst into tears, not able to stand it that she was telling me off.

“Hey, poor little snugglepuss,” said Aunty Jane, cuddling me close. “No need for tears, poppet.”

“God, do you have to act like a baby?” Star said. She checked her nose gingerly and tidied her plaits.

“I'm used to babies,” said Aunty Jane, rocking me.

“She's just doing it to be obliging, Star. You sure you don't want to make this old lady's day by joining in the cuddle?”

“No, thanks. I don't want to play silly games,” said Star.

“That's rich coming from you, when you kept putting
on that dopey little girl act for Micky. Only now he's dumped you on the social services, hasn't he?” I said.

“I told you, quit it!” Star threatened.

“Why don't we all quit it,” said Aunty Jane.

One of the babies started crying.

“Oh dear. It sounds like waking up for breakfast time. I'd better go and see to him. Will you two girls promise not to murder each other during the next half hour?”

We glared at each other and then burst out laughing. Aunty Jane shook her head at us and went off, baby-bound. We giggled hysterically though it really wasn't funny.

“We're mad,” said Star.

“Are we going to end up like Marigold? Star, I
had
to get her into hospital.”

“I would have done the same. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I just so badly had to be with Micky.”

“I know.”

“He hasn't dumped me, though. I mean, we had to get in touch with the social services, but it was because we were looking for
you
. But then they sort of took over. Micky will be back for me, you'll see. I mean, there are problems. Like Sîan. But Micky told me privately that I'm far more important to him than she is. He says he's going to get rid of her soon anyway.”

I kept nodding until she'd finished.

“I like your hair,” I said.

“Someone in the street did hair wrapping and they plaited all of mine.”

“Let's see how it's done.” I examined a plait carefully. “Aha.
I
see. Yeah,” I said, working it out.

“Could you do them like this for me again sometime?”

“I think so.”

“Do you really think my diamond looks stupid?”

“No. It looks great.”

“It's a
real
diamond. Micky did it for me. It hurt but I didn't cry. You really think it looks cool?”

“Yes, I love it. Tell you one thing, though. Marigold will go crazy when she sees it.”

“Marigold
is
crazy,” said Star.

We started giggling again, guiltily.

“Is she really bad?” Star asked.

“She's the worst ever.”

But when Uncle Eddie drove us both to the hospital that evening Marigold was different. She wasn't in bed. She was sitting up in a chair doing some sort of sewing, wearing a hospital stripy toweling dressing gown. The orange and green and black made her tattoos look especially garish. She was slumped, her hair badly needing a wash, but when she saw us coming she sat up straight.

Uncle Eddie went to have a cup of coffee while we walked up the squeaky polished floor to our mother.

“Thank God! Where have you been, you two?” Then she remembered. “Is Micky with you, Star?” Her voice was strange, slurred. I wondered if she'd managed to stow some vodka away.

Star shook her head. “He's gone back to Brighton.”

“Oh.” She slumped again, throwing down the sewing. “So what was that other Micky doing here? How many other boyfriends are going to come crawling out of the woodwork? And I look such a mess too.” She picked up her toweling belt and chucked it back in her lap in disgust. “This is so hideous. I want my own stuff.”

“OK. I'll bring it for you tomorrow,” said Star.

“Can't you get me out of here? It's sheer bloody torture,” said Marigold. “They're trying to poison me.”

“What's that you're saying, darling?” said a cheery nurse tending an old lady in the next bed.

“You're
poisoning
me,” said Marigold. “Look, girls, look.” She held out her hands. They were shaking quite badly. “I've got the shakes and my voice sounds weird, all thick and old and horrible, and I keep throwing up. I tell you, they're poisoning me.”

“It's your reaction to lithium, sweetheart,” said the nurse.

“Yes, you're giving me poisonous drugs.”

“It's a natural salt, and it'll work wonders if you let it. Take your lithium like a lamb every day and you'll
soon be back home with your girls,” said the nurse. “That's what you want, isn't it?”

Marigold opened her eyes wide as if she was seeing properly for the first time.

“That's what I want,” she said. Her eyes filled with huge tears. “That's what I want. My girls,” she said, and she held out her arms.

We went to her and she held us close, one either side, her hands hanging on to the folds of our clothes.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“I'm sorry I went away and left you,” Star said.

“I'm sorry I called the ambulance,” I said.

“No,
I'm
sorry. I'm the useless hateful bad mother,” Marigold wept. “I had to do this stupid talking thing today. It's supposed to make me feel better and stop me drinking. It didn't make me feel better, I felt much
worse
. I was sick, but they still wouldn't let me go back to bed. They went on and on asking me stuff about when I was little, so in the end I blurted out all sorts of ugly things about my mother and all she'd done to me and how I hated her. Then I realized, I'm the same. I've done some of the same stuff to you two. You must both hate me.”

“We don't hate you, we love you, you silly woman,” said Star, hugging her.

“We love you to bits,” I said, and then I pricked myself on her sewing. “Ouch. What's this?”

There were odd little squares and rounds and diamonds of all different-colored material.

“It's occupational bloody boring therapy,” said Marigold. “This awful woman has started me off making a quilt, just because I said I liked sewing. It's not my scene at all, quilts!”

“But the pieces don't fit together properly,” I said.

“Aha,” said Marigold. “Guess what kind of quilt this is going to be. Would you believe it's called a crazy quilt?”

Star snorted with laughter and had to blow her nose. Marigold looked at her and then looked again.

She screamed.

“Dear God, what is it now?” said the nurse, running over.

“Look! She's had her beautiful little nose pierced! Star, how
could
you? What does it look like!”

She carried on as if she were the most uncool conventional mum in the world, with virgin skin. I looked at her, my illustrated mum. I knew she really did love me and Star. We had a father each and maybe they'd be around for us and maybe they wouldn't‘but we'd always have our mum, Marigold. It didn't matter if she was mad or bad. She belonged to us and we belonged to her. The three of us. Marigold and Star and Dolphin.