The Bed and Breakfast Star (23 page)

So she gave up and let me choose instead. I wanted black jeans (so they wouldn’t show the dirt). Mum bought me a black top too, and tied her red scarf round my neck, and then guess what we found at a car-boot sale? Red cowboy boots! They were a bit big but we stuffed the toes with paper and I looked absolutely great.

The blonde lady with the big teeth loved my outfit too. She said I looked just like a cowboy. I was a bit nervous so without thinking I got launched into a cowboy joke routine.

‘Who wears a cowboy hat and spurs and lives under the sea? Billy the Squid!’

She laughed! It wasn’t
that
funny, one of my oldest jokes actually, but she laughed and laughed and laughed. She said she loved jokes, the older and cornier the better, and she said I could maybe come on her special show one day and do my own comedy routine !!!!!

We couldn’t go back to bed in room 608 when the firemen put the fire out at last. It wasn’t all burnt to bits. It was only the kitchen that had cooked itself into little black crumbs. But the whole corridor was thick with smoke and sloshy with water and all the rooms looked as if someone had run amok with giant paint-brushes and vats of black paint. All our stuff was covered in this black treacle, and there was a sharp smell that scratched at your nostrils.

‘Sorry, folks. You’ll have to stay in temporary accommodation for a few weeks,’ said the Chief Fireman, shaking his head.

He looked surprised when all the residents of the Royal gave a hearty cheer. The Manager was prancing about in his silk boxer shorts, pointing out that only a few of the rooms were seriously fire damaged, and that the first few floors were barely affected. There was a lot of rushing around consulting, and eventually it was decided that only the people living on the top two floors need be evacuated.

Us sixth-floor and fifth-floor people hugged and danced and shouted. All the other residents booed and argued and complained. Naomi and I had a big hug because she’s on the fifth floor so she could come too. Then Funny-Face came and clapped hands with me because though he’s on the fourth floor their room is right below the burnt kitchen and water had swirled right down through the room underneath and was dripping through to them, so they couldn’t stay either.

We were all ferried off in police cars and coaches to this church hall, where several big bossy ladies with cardigans over their nighties handed out blankets and pillows and sleeping bags. They gave us paper cups of hot soup too – which we needed, because the church hall was freezing. The floor was slippery lino and fun to skid across in your socks, but not exactly cosy or comfy when we settled down to go to sleep. I didn’t exactly rate bed number eight – and it soon got crowded because Pippa unzipped my sleeping bag and stuck herself in too. She kept having nightmares and twitching and I had to keep waking her up and dragging her off to the toilet because I was all too aware of what would happen if I didn’t.

There was only one toilet and there were queues for it all night long. It was worse in the morning. There was only the one small washbasin too, and most people didn’t have their toothbrushes or flannels or towels anyway.

‘I don’t know why we were flipping cheering last night,’ said Mum, trying to wipe round Hank’s sticky face with a damp hankie. ‘Compared with this draughty old dump the Royal is practically a palace.’

‘We can’t stay here,’ said Mack, sitting up and scratching. ‘I’m going right down that Housing Department first thing.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Mum, looking at him. ‘You’re walking down the road in your underpants, right? Don’t forget you haven’t even got any trousers any more. And look at me! This is all I’ve got – the old nightie that I’m wearing. All my clothes, all my make-up, my crinoline-lady ornament . . . all gone! Even if they’re not ruined by that smoke then someone will be bound to nick them before I can get back to claim them.’ She started to cry so I went and put my arms round her.

‘Don’t cry, Mum,’ I said, hugging her tight. ‘You’ve still got us.’

Mum snuffled a bit but then hugged me back.

‘Yes, that’s right, Elsa. I’ve still got my family. My Mack. My baby. My little girl. And my special big girl.’

The special big girl went a bit snuffly herself then. I was glad that Funny-Face in the next row of sleeping bags was still fast asleep or he might have jeered. He looked oddly little, snuggled up under the blanket. And he sucked his thumb and all!

More big bossy ladies breezed into the hall and started heating up a big urn of tea. They had lots of packets of biscuits too. I helped hand them round to everyone. We could have seconds and even thirds. A Bourbon, a shortbread finger and a chocolate Hob Nob make quite a good breakfast.

Then the ladies started dragging in great black plastic sacks crammed with clothes.

‘Come and help yourselves! There should be enough for a new outfit for everyone.’

‘Oh, big deal,’ Mum grumbled. ‘It’s just tatty old junk left over from jumbles. I’m not wearing anyone’s old Crimplene cast-offs.’

She watched Funny-Face’s mum trying to squeeze herself into a tight black skirt.

‘She’s wasting her time. She’ll never get that over her big bum,’ Mum mumbled, and when Funny-Face’s mum had to give up the attempt, Mum darted out and snatched the skirt herself.

‘There! I thought so! That’s a Betty Barclay skirt. I’ve seen them on sale in Flowerfields. Hey, look, does it fit?’ Mum pulled it up over her narrow hips and stood preening. ‘I wonder if there’s a jacket to go with it, eh?’

Mum started skimming her way through the plastic sacks and came up with all sorts of goodies – even a pair of patent high heels her exact size. She had more trouble finding stuff for Mack, considering the only size he takes is
out-size.
She found a jumper that could just about go round him, but the biggest trousers could barely do up and the legs ended way above his ankles. Hank was a bit of a problem too – there were heaps of baby clothes, but he’s such a
big
baby that the average one-year-old’s sleeping suit came unpopped every time he breathed out and bent him up double into the bargain. Pippa was fine, fitting all the little frocks a treat, but I looked such a fool in the only one my size that Mum threw it back in the pile. (Naomi tried it on instead and looked gorgeous, but then she always does.) Funny-Face was delving in a sack of boys’ clothes so I had a sift through too and found some jeans and a jumper and a really great baseball bomber jacket with a picture of a lion on the back!

‘Well, we’re all kitted out like a dog’s dinner, but we’ve still got no place to go,’ said Mack.

But he was wrong.

Oh, you’ll never guess where we ended up!

Someone from the Social and the man from the Housing Office came round to the church hall to tell us. We were all going to be temporarily accommodated in another hotel. Not a special bed-and-breakfast DHS dumping ground. A
real
hotel. The Star Hotel. With stars after its name.

When we stepped through those starry glass doors it was like finding fairyland. There were soft sofas all over the reception area, and thick red carpet and flowers in great vases, and a huge chandelier sparkled from the ceiling. All us lot from the Oyal Htl crowded into the reception area, and Mum and Mack and Naomi’s mum and Funny-Face’s mum and dad and all the other grown-ups sprawled on the sofas while we all ran round and round the red carpet and up and down the wide staircase and rang all the bells on the lifts.

The Star Manager came out of his office to meet us. He didn’t look terribly thrilled to see us, but he shook us all by the hand, even the littlest stickiest kid, and welcomed us to the Star Hotel. Then there was a lot of hoo-ha and argy-bargy about rooms, with the Manager and his chief receptionist going into a huddle. This receptionist was dark instead of blonde, and fierce instead of fluffy, but she also had long pointy fingernails and she started to tap them very impatiently indeed. But at last it was all sorted out and she handed all of us little cards instead of keys.

We were in suite 13. It might be an unlucky number for some people, but it was lucky lucky lucky for us.