Lily Alone (22 page)

It took Bliss
ages
, she was so scared that some badger or stoat or rat would come scrabbling up her legs. Baxter was much easier – but he ordered me to stay close to him, disconcerted by the blackness of the night.

‘I'm not one bit afraid of the dark though,' he said.

‘Of course you're not,' I said. ‘You're as brave as brave can be. You were all set to protect us from the deer, weren't you?'

‘Yes, I'd have gone
whack whack whack
. Will you tell Mum, Lily?'

‘Yes, I'll tell her.'

‘And tell my dad too?'

‘Well, if we see him.'

‘This Gordon isn't going to be our new dad, is he?'

‘No fear.'

He didn't seem real, perhaps because we'd never met him. But for that matter
Mum
didn't seem very real now. When we were at home in our flat there was a huge empty space where she had been, but here in the park we'd made a new home just for us four.

When we were all back in the tree we did our jigsaw-puzzle act, slotting arms and legs round each other, and went back to sleep. Bliss whimpered and twitched, probably dreaming of ogres, and Baxter kicked a lot, probably fighting them. Pixie slept soundly, lying heavily on top of me, making little snoring sounds. I hovered on the edge of sleep, listening out for deer. Every so often I heard rustling around me, and the birds started singing while it was still very dark.

I started worrying about what we were going to eat for breakfast. There was very little food left. This wasn't like real camping, where you cooked sausages and bacon in a pan over a little fire. I'd heard Rosa at school talking about her camping holidays in the Lake District. She hadn't been talking to
me
. No one spoke to me very much, though I didn't get bullied any more. I'd fought one of the big boys because he used a very bad word to describe my mum. They left me alone after that, which was just fine with me. Well, I pretended it was.

I'd have liked to be friendly with some of the girls, especially Rosa, who had dark curly hair and very big brown eyes with long lashes. I'd tried to make friends with her, commenting on the fact that we both had flowery names, but she looked alarmed and then rolled her beautiful eyes at the other girls nearby. They all rolled their eyes back and several of them held their noses. They all said I smelled. I didn't
think
I did, but it made me nervous. I didn't try to make friends any more after that, but I eavesdropped on their chatter about their fancy bedrooms and their parties and their holidays. I especially hankered after Rose's camping holidays and asked Mum if
we
could go to the Lake District. I didn't think it would cost too much if we all crowded into one tent – but it was Mum's turn to roll her eyes.

‘How are we going to get there, stupid, on the eighty-five bus? The Lake District's hundreds of miles away. There's nothing there anyway, just a lot of hills and water, and it always pours with rain.'

At least it wasn't raining here in the park. I wriggled up until I could peek out of the tablecloth and saw the sky fiery red again above me. I wondered if I could ever draw a sunrise with my felt tips but I knew I'd never get the colours right.

I thought about Spain. I wasn't sure if the time there was the same as our time, but they'd obviously have the same sun. I wondered if Mum was watching it too, looking forward to sunbathing on the beach all day. Or was she thinking about us four, wondering if she ought to come back home? I remembered a little rhyme we used to chant in the Infants:
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children are gone
.

I thought of mum coming back tomorrow. It seemed such a long time away. I wasn't sure how we were going to get through all of Friday. I served up the last of our food for breakfast, portioning everything out on leaf plates and making little trails of flowers beside each serving. Bliss and Pixie were enchanted when I called it a fairy breakfast, but Baxter moaned and said fairies were stupid and he wanted a
proper
breakfast.

‘Well, the poor fairies have clearly wasted their time trying to please
you
,' I said huffily – though
I
wished the fairies could have magicked up a more substantial meal.

We'd just have to walk all the way to the Lodge and graze on leftover food like yesterday. This plan appealed to everyone, so we set off mid-morning, but it was a wasted effort. When we got to the Lodge at last and sat at the furthermost rickety white table, a guy in white overalls came and shooed us away immediately.

‘These tables are for our café customers. You children will have to go some place else,' he said in a surly voice.

We didn't dare sit back down at the table. We hovered on the steps, pretending to be playing. We waited while old couples sipped their coffee, but after a while people walked out with trays of cakes and cookies. We watched hungrily. Baxter got ready to pounce when the first couple stood up, half a rock-cake left on each of their plates – but the overall guy was still watching us. He caught Baxter by the wrist.

‘Oh no you don't!' he said. ‘You kids! You're worse than the sparrows. Go on, clear off, or I'll report you.'

Baxter looked as if he might argue, but I grabbed him quickly.

‘I'm sorry. He's my brother. He's a bit soft in the head. He doesn't understand,' I said quickly.

‘What do you mean, I'm soft in the head?' Baxter said indignantly as I hurried him away. ‘I'm
hard
, like my dad.'

‘Yes, you're hard as nails, but I didn't want you to get into trouble, OK?' I said. ‘Come on, all of you.'

‘I want my breakfast!' said Pixie. ‘I'm hungry! Let's have ice cream!'

‘We
can't
go begging off that nice man again,' I said, but the other three over-ruled me. I started fantasizing about a big soft whippy cone too, so I let them drag me right round the Lodge to the front, where the ice-cream kiosk was. But it was a different man today. He didn't smile, even when Pixie started jumping up and down, going, ‘Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!'

‘Come on then, make up your minds,' he said. ‘Is it four small cones?'

‘Well, that would be lovely,' I said, smiling at him nervously. ‘The only trouble is, we haven't actually got any money.'

‘So what are you doing wasting my time?' said the man. ‘Come on, you're holding up the queue.'

‘You couldn't give my baby sister a really tiny cone? She so wants an ice cream,' I begged.

‘I'm running a business here, not a charity soup kitchen. No money, no ice cream, OK? Off you go.'

So we had to trail away, hungry and humiliated.

‘I didn't like that man,' said Bliss.

‘No, he was horrid. Never mind. Let's forget him. Let's – let's go and find the magic garden again, it's lovely there, with all the roses.'

‘You can't eat roses,' said Baxter.

‘No, but we can nibble at people's picnics, remember?' I said. ‘Come on, let's set off. Find yourself another big stick, Baxter, so you can whack any nasty men who come near us. Bliss, hold Pixie's hand too and we'll jump her along for a while to cheer her up.'

I thought I knew where the magic garden was, but there was no sign of it, even when we'd been walking for half an hour. Bliss was limping again, though she didn't complain.

‘I was
sure
it was over here somewhere,' I said, squinting into the sunlight. I saw a silvery gleam in the distance. I rubbed my eyes and took a few steps nearer.

‘What? Can you see it, Lily?' Bliss asked hopefully.

‘I think I can see . . . water.'

‘Like a pond?'

‘Well, a really
big
pond. Come on, perhaps we can all go paddling!'

It wasn't just
one
enormous pond, it was two, with a sandy path between them. There was a little sand at the edge of the water too, almost like the seaside. Ducks bobbed cheerily across the rippling water, looking at us expectantly, but we didn't have any bread for ourselves, let alone them.

There was a sign that forbade swimming, but I didn't think paddling counted. We kicked off our shoes and ran into the water. Baxter went right on kicking, soaking himself and us, but it was a sunny day so I decided it didn't matter. We
all
kicked and splashed and the ducks bobbed off huffily because we'd turned their smooth pool into rapids. Pixie tried to drink the water, scooping it up in her cupped hands, until I stopped her.

‘No, Pixie, it's dirty water. It'll make you sick,' I said.

‘But I'm
thirsty
,' Pixie wailed.

‘I know. We all are. I'll find you a proper drink as soon as I can,' I said.

I hoped the toilets would have a drinking fountain. After we'd walked for ages in our soggy trainers and damp clothes we found a toilet, but without any drinking fountain whatsoever. I let the kids drink from the cold tap instead, though none of us liked the taste, and we were still horribly hungry.

I didn't know what to do. There were lots of people out walking their dogs or jogging along. I wondered about straightforward begging, concocting a story inside my head about some rough boys who had stolen our picnic – but I knew they'd want to know why we were in the park on our own. I went round and round things in my head, wishing I knew what to do for the best.

We were trailing along beside the high wall at the edge of the park now. If we stepped right back we could see the rooftops and windows of the big houses on the hill. I thought of the posh families inside, sitting at long tables and munching away happily. I thought of their big fridges stuffed full of food, enough to keep the four of us going for days.

I eyed the brick wall. It was much higher than my head, but if I got Baxter to give me a bunk up I might be able to scramble up and over. I loitered by each back garden, assessing them seriously. I saw one house with the French windows wide open. It was almost as if they were inviting me in.

‘OK,' I said, spitting on my hands. ‘Baxter, you're going to help me get over the wall, right? Bliss, you hang onto Pixie and keep her quiet.'

‘Are you going to be a
burglar
?' Bliss whispered, her eyes huge.

‘No! I'm not going to take any
things
. I'm just going to see if they've got any spare food. That's not really stealing,' I said. I knew it
was
– but I decided I had to do it, to feed the kids. I was the oldest and the biggest, so it was down to me.

I got Baxter to bend over, then I climbed on his back and leaped upwards. I missed the first time and scraped my hands and knees on the brick wall. I swore viciously and had another go. This time I managed to grab the top of the wall and cling on, and then dug my sore knees and feet into cracks in the crumbling mortar and hauled myself up. I wedged myself on top of the wall, holding my breath.

The garden was empty. I squinted through the French windows. I couldn't see anyone. I'd risk it. I let my legs dangle on the other side of the wall and then dropped to the ground. I landed neatly on a clump of poppies, stirring a flurry of red petals around me. I wondered how I was going to get back over the wall without Baxter to help me, but there wasn't any point wasting time worrying about it. I ran across the green lawn, past a big plastic playhouse, an elaborate garden swing and a trampoline. Imagine being a child in this house and having this huge garden to play in!

I crept right up to the French windows, holding my breath. I could see right into the room now. It was like a playroom, crammed with brightly coloured toys. I crouched beside a big plush pull-along dog, listening. I could hear a murmur of voices: an adult voice with a funny foreign accent and some little kid burbling away. They were upstairs, maybe the bathroom, because I could hear running water.

I crept through the playroom into a huge living room with a real white carpet, just like the one in my dreams. I went on tiptoe, worried about making muddy footprints. I went out into the hall. I could hear the people more clearly now. It seemed to be just one little kid. Maybe the foreign woman was its nanny? They were definitely in the bathroom because now I could hear splashing. Brilliant! They wouldn't be able to hear me.

I darted down the hall and into an enormous kitchen. Thank goodness, it was empty. I circled the oven in the middle of the room, marvelling at all the gleaming surfaces. There was a long scrubbed table with a blue and white bowl full of apples and pears and bananas. I grabbed a big sacking shopping bag and emptied all the fruit into it, and then eased open the door of the vast fridge. It looked as if a whole supermarket had been crammed inside. I poked punnets of enormous strawberries, stroked soft downy peaches and smooth purple plums, and then snapped into action. I filled my bag with fruit, along with a big wedge of cheese, a pack of cooked chicken breasts, some sliced ham, yoghurts, a pot of cream, four chocolate eclairs, and a carton of orange juice. The bag was so full I could barely lift it, so I started decanting half into a plastic carrier. Then I realized the water noise had stopped.

‘Hello?' the foreign voice called from upstairs.

Oh no, had she heard me? I grabbed both bags and ran out of the kitchen into the hall, over the snowy living-room carpet, kicked my way through the toys in the playroom and out into the garden. I stared at the trampoline, madly wondering if I could bounce up and over the wall, but I wasn't a cartoon girl. I knew it wasn't possible. I peered wildly around the garden, wondering how on earth I could leap over the wall with two bulging bags.

I heard the voice calling again. I didn't have any time to waste. I seized the playhouse, dragging it over to the wall, the bags banging on either arm. I hauled myself up onto the pink plastic roof. I slung one bag up and over, flung my leg up after it, rolled right over the top of the wall, and fell flat on the other side, the bags on top of me, knocking the breath out of my body.