‘Punk tool,’ she said out loud.
The squeals and shouts of laughter around her were deafening. ‘I’ve only got to C at home,’ she tried to say. It was no good. Her voice was drowned out – not just by the taunts but also by the loud bell. Immediately, there was a flurry of books being put away, feet scuffling on the ground, and the teacher saying something about a new rule during lunchtime play.
Lunch? Then it must be ten past twelve instead of twelve past ten! Carla breathed in the peace. The classroom was empty.
The boy with the carrot hair had left his green caterpillar on his desk.
It winked at her. Charlie, it said. I’m called Charlie.
Scarcely daring to breathe, she tiptoed over and stroked its fur. Then, slowly (scared-slowly), Carla placed Charlie inside her blouse. She was ‘nearly ready’ for her first bra, Mamma had said. Meanwhile, she had to make do with a vest. But things could still be hidden inside, just as Mamma often hid paper money ‘in case of emergency’.
‘You’re mine now,’ she whispered as she pulled her cardigan down over the top. ‘He doesn’t deserve to have you.’
‘What are you doing?’ A teacher poked her head round the door. ‘You should be in the canteen. Go down immediately.’
Carla chose to sit away from the rest of the children, conscious of Charlie nestling against her breast. Ignoring the usual spiteful remarks (‘Didn’t you bring your own spaghetti, Carla?’) she worked her way through a bowl of chewy meat. Finally, when it was time to go into the playground, she walked to the far end where she sat down on the tarmac and tried to make herself invisible.
Usually she’d feel upset. Left out. But not now. Not now she had her very own green caterpillar who felt so warm and comforting against her skin. ‘We’ll look after each other,’ Carla whispered.
But what will happen when they find you’ve taken me? Charlie whispered back.
‘I will think of something.’
Ouch!
The blow to her head happened so fast that Carla hardly saw the football hurtling through the air. Her head spun and her right eye didn’t feel like it belonged to her at all.
‘Are you all right? Carla, are you all right?’ The teacher’s voice was coming at her from a long way off. In the blurry distance, she could see another teacher telling off the carrot-haired boy. The one who really owned Caterpillar Charlie.
‘Kevin! You were told quite clearly about the new rule, this morning. No ball games in this part of the playground. Now look what you’ve done.’
This is our chance, hissed Charlie. Tell her you need to go home and then we can make our escape before they realize I’m missing.
Carla staggered to her feet, careful not to make a sudden movement that might dislodge her new friend. Folding her arms to hide Charlie’s shape, she managed a smile. One of her brave smiles that she practised in front of the mirror. This was a trick she had learned from Mamma. Every evening, her mother ran through a series of different looks in front of her dressing-table mirror before the man with the shiny car arrived. There was the happy smile when he was on time. There was the slightly sad smile when he arrived late. There was the smile with the nose slightly tilted when she asked if he would like another glass. And there was the smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes when she told Carla to go to bed so she and Larry could listen to some music on their own.
Right now, Carla assumed the slightly sad smile. ‘My eye hurts. I would like to go home.’
The teacher frowned as she took her to the school office. ‘We will have to ring your mother to make sure she’s in.’
Aiuto! Help! She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Our telephone, she is not working because we have not paid the bill. But Mamma, she is there.’
‘Are you sure?’
The first part was the truth. Mamma was going to tell Larry about the phone when he came round next. Then he would pay for it to work again. But the second part – about her mother being in – wasn’t true. Mamma would be at work.
But somehow, she had to get home before Charlie was discovered inside her school blouse.
‘There’s a work number here,’ announced the teacher, opening a file. ‘Let’s try, just in case.’
She’d had it now. Trembling, she listened to the conversation.
‘I see.’ The teacher put down the phone. Then she turned back to Carla, sighing. ‘It appears your mother has taken the day off. Do you know where she is?’
‘I told you. She is at home!’ The lie slid so easily into her mouth that it was as if someone had put it there. ‘I can walk back on my own,’ she added. Her good eye fixed itself on the teacher. ‘It is not far.’
‘We can’t allow that, I’m afraid. Is there anyone else we can ring? A neighbour, perhaps, who can go and fetch your mother?’
Briefly she thought of the golden lady and her husband. But she and Mamma had never even spoken to them. ‘We must keep ourselves to ourselves.’ That’s what Mamma always said. Larry wanted it that way. He wanted them for himself.
‘Yes,’ Carla said desperately. ‘My mother’s friend. Larry.’
‘You have his number?’
She shook her head.
‘Miss. Miss!’ One of the other children in her class was knocking on the door. ‘Kevin’s hit someone else now!’
There was a groan. ‘I’m coming.’ On the way, they passed the woman who helped out in her class. She was new and always wore sandals, even when it was raining. ‘Sandra, take this child home for me, will you? She’s only a couple of stops away. Her mother will be there, apparently. Kevin? Stop that right now!’
By the time she turned into her road with the sandal woman, Carla was really beginning to feel wobbly. Her eye was throbbing so badly that it was difficult to see out. There was a pain above the eyebrow which was pulsing through her head. But none of this was as bad as the certain knowledge that Mamma would not be in and that she’d then have to go back to that horrid school.
Do not worry, whispered Charlie. I will think of something.
He had better hurry up!
‘Do you know the code?’ asked sandal woman as they stopped at the main entrance to the flat. Of course. The doors swung open. But just as she’d expected, there was no answer when they knocked on number 7.
‘Maybe my mother has gone out for some milk,’ she said desperately. ‘We can let ourselves in until she comes back.’
Carla always did this, before Mamma returned from work. She’d get changed, do a bit of tidying up (because it was always a rush for Mamma in the mornings) and start to make risotto or pasta for supper. Once, when she had been really bored, she’d looked under Mamma’s bed, where she kept her ‘special things’. There she had found an envelope containing photographs. Each one showed the same young man with a hat at a funny angle and a confident smile. Something told her to put him back and not say anything. Yet every now and then when Mamma was out, she went back to take another look.
Right now, however, she could see (after fetching the chair that sat at the end of the corridor) that the key wasn’t in its usual place on the ledge above their door. Number 7. It was a lucky number, Mamma had said when they moved in. All they had to do was wait for the luck to arrive.
If only she had a key for the back door, by the rubbish behind the flats. But that spare key was for Larry so he could come in whenever he wanted and have a little rest with Mamma. Her mother joked it was like his private ground-floor entrance!
‘I can’t leave you.’ The sandal woman’s voice was all whiny, as though this was Carla’s fault. ‘We’ll have to go back.’
No. Please no. Kevin scared her. So did the other children. Charlie, do something!
And then she heard the distinct padding of heavy footsteps coming towards them.
5
Lily
APPEAL.
A PEAL.
A PEEL.