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“Yay!” shrieks Mum, frantically jiggling my hand up and down. “Freedom, Tiff! Freedom!”
Suddenly, some policemen step in front of the car and wave us over to one side. Mikey starts tap, tap, tapping on the steering wheel again and Mum starts fidgeting with her hair.
“Just a routine check, sir,” says one of the policemen, leaning into the front window. “May we take another look at your passports, please?”
“Is this completely necessary?” says Mikey. “We need to board the ferry as soon as,” he says, waving a hand toward me. “The kid needs the toilet; know what I mean?”
“I’m afraid it is necessary, sir, and we’ll get you on board as soon as we can.”
I feel really awake now, because something’s not right. All the other cars are driving past us and climbing the ramp to board the ferry. But we’re stuck here with policemen asking us questions. It’s late and I want to be at home, asleep next to Chelsea, dreaming of The Wizard of Oz and Shirley Temple cocktails. I wish my mum had never had this stupid idea in the first place. I don’t even want to go on holiday. I want my normal Saturday with Chels and me cosying up in bed, watching TV and eating ice cream straight from the tub. With Mum and me, together, wandering through the shops and buying cool stuff. Getting dressed up in new clothes and having lunch out, like ladies do. And we’d planned to take Chardonnay to the park. Everything is going wrong.
The policeman looks at me, scratches his head, and then turns to Mikey. “Are you the registered keeper of this vehicle, sir?”
“Yes mate,” says Mikey, tapping and tapping. “It’s all in order, officer, I just bought it from my brother-in-law, he must have forgotten to send off the papers.”
The policeman scratches his head again and I wonder if he has nits, like Chels and I had in the summer. “If you’d like to get out of the vehicle, sir, and step this way.”
Mikey groans and opens the door. Mum lets out a wounded-dog squeal and starts rocking backwards and forwards humming the white cliffs of Dover song. Then we’re surrounded by blue flashing lights, and I know that Crimewatch was true and that Chelsea was right. A large ball of worry drops into my tummy and wobbles around, and a sharp lump sticks in my throat. I start tap, tap, tapping and humming the white cliffs of Dover song too because now I really know that my mum’s in trouble. Big trouble. And what about me?
All the doors are pulled open. There are policemen everywhere and handcuffs are snapped on to Mikey and Mum.
“Mum!” I call from the back seat, “Mum, what’s happening?”
“It’s all right, babe, Mama’s here, no worries,” her voice trembles as someone guides her towards a police car. “You and me, Tiff,” she calls through the rain.
“You and me, Mum.” I call back, panicking. “You and me.”
I watch my mum pulling and struggling against the policemen. She starts screaming at them and fighting, and I wish they knew how to soothe her tantrums.
A lady police officer climbs into the car and sits next to me. “I’m Benita,” she says. “What’s your name, love?”
“Tiffany,” I sniff. “What’s happening to my mum?”
“I’m really sorry, Tiffany,” she says, handing me a tissue, “we have to take your mum and dad into custody for a bit. There’s some stuff that’s happened and we just need to check it all out.” She’s trying to sound cheerful and reassuring. “We’ll have you all back together as soon as we can.”
“He’s not my dad,” I say, “he’s my mum’s business partner.”
Then, before I know it, I’m in a police car, and my little wheelie suitcase is in the back. My mum’s in another car being driven away from me, with blue lights flashing. I don’t even know where Dover is and I need the toilet and Chardonnay is wriggling in the bag. The large ball keeps rolling around in my tummy, making me feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t stop my hand tap, tap, tapping on the car window and the white cliffs of Dover song is spinning through my mind, like it’s got stuck in my brain.
“Where are you from, Tiffany?” Benita asks.
“London,” I say.
“Is there anyone we can call for you, love? Your dad, maybe, or grandparents, aunts or uncles, friends?”
“There’s my school friend, Chelsea,” I sniff, “but her dad’s really angry with my mum.”
“Anyone else?”
I shake my head. “No one,” I say. “Just me and Mum.”
Chapter 6 (#ulink_f3446ae4-1e3f-5b8a-aeae-a9773c99b6da)
a whole lake of tears is welling…
We drive to the police station. Benita shows me to the toilets and then sits me in a room with a brown plastic table and orange chairs. Chardonnay’s still wriggling but she hasn’t made a sound yet. She’s such a good dog.
“Can I get you a cup of tea, or some water?”
“No thanks,” I say. “When can I see my mum and go home?”
“Tiffany,” she says, kneeling down beside me and taking my hand, “I’m really sorry, but we have to keep Mum here for a bit; until things are sorted out.”
“What about me?” I croak.
“Well,” she says, in a trying-to-be-kind voice, “as it’s so late and there’s no one for us to call at this stage, we’ve had to ask social services to send a social worker who will find somewhere for you to stay tonight. Then tomorrow we’ll be able to take a fresh look at things. Mum knows what’s happening to you and she knows that you’ll be safe.”
A whole lake of tears wells and quivers up through my body and tries to escape from my eyes. But I won’t let it. I blink a lot and sniff into the tissue. Then I hear my mum’s voice screaming away in another room, saying lots of swear words, calling out for me. Chardonnay hears her too because she starts scrabbling about in the bag. I pat her down to try and keep her quiet.
“What have you got in there, love?” asks Benita.
“Nothing.”
“Sure?” she asks, not believing me. And then Chardonnay takes a leap and starts yelping and my bag tumbles to the ground.
Benita picks up the bag and takes a peep inside.
“Look what we’ve got in here,” she says, holding Chardonnay in the air. Then Chardonnay decides that she can’t hold on to her wee any more and it trickles on to the floor.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No problem, Tiffany, I’ll buzz for someone to come and mop it up.”
Benita presses a red button on the wall.
“As for you,” she says, ruffling Chardonnay’s fluff, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to put you in kennels for the night.”
My lake of tears starts pushing up again. I blink hard because I won’t let myself cry.
“Can’t she come with me?” I ask, “Please? We only just got her and she hasn’t even had one whole night with us yet.”
“I’m sorry, but no one will take on you and a puppy as an emergency at this time of night. But don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of her – promise.”
The lump in my throat rises up again and I can’t swallow it down. Now I know how Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz feels when the nasty neighbour tries to take her dog, Toto, away. I can’t lose my puppy, not now that I’ve finally got her. Why can’t my mum sort this mess out and take us home? Surely there’s something she can do? Chardonnay’ll be scared. And lonely.
I can hear my mum’s voice travelling down the corridor. She’s screaming and shouting and having one of her full-blown temper tantrums.
“If I could just see my mum before I go, I’d be able to calm her down for you,” I say quietly.
“I’m not sure it’s allowed,” Benita says.
“Please?”
A teeny river pushes its way out and stings my cheek. I rub my eye pretending I have an eyelash in it.
Benita pats my shoulder. “You stay here and I’ll see what I can do, I’ll just be a sec.”
She leaves the room and my ears fill with the sound of keys clattering and doors clunking and Mum shouting. I look at my watch. It’s one o’clock in the morning.
“You can have five minutes,” says Benita, coming back into the room, “I’ve spoken to the sergeant and he says you can pop in to say a quick goodnight to your mum.”
I feel all jelly again, and I’m shaking all over. My heart’s pounding. We walk down the grey corridor towards my mum’s shouting. Benita thumps the door, I hear some keys jangling and we’re in. I fly into Mum’s arms and we squeeze each other tight, holding on, not wanting to let go.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she sobs into my hair, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
I cling on, breathe in her smell, and snuggle into her warmth.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave me, Mum.”
She sobs and sobs and I worry that she’ll never be able to stop. She clings on so tight that her nails dig in. The big policeman standing near the door coughs and I remember that I don’t have long to make her feel better.
“Remember your mascara, Mum,” I say. I lick my tissue and mop up her face. “You don’t want to go around looking like a mess, do you? What would Bianca say, eh, Mum?”
She pulls herself together. I untangle her hair, take her face in my hands and kiss her on the nose.
“Now come on, Mum, all this screaming and shouting isn’t going to get us anywhere, is it?” I soothe.
“Sorry, Tiff,” she sniffs, “I’ll be good. I promise.
It was all Mikey’s fault. You do believe me, Tiff, don’t you? Just give me a bit of time to sort this mess out and we’ll be back home together before you can say ‘wizard’.”
I don’t know what to believe any more. But I know it’s not normal to be in a police station with my mum in the middle of the night. And I know I’m the only one in the world who can calm her down. And I’m boiling mad inside because our life is always about her.
“What about me?” I whisper. “What happens to me and Chardonnay while you’re sorting it all out?”
“I promise you, Tiff, it won’t be for long and I’ll come and pick you both up as soon as I can.”
“But, Mum, please!”
“There’s nothing I can do, babe. Nothing.”
Suddenly a brilliant idea pops into my mind. “Except…except maybe you could telephone someone…on Sark?”
“Don’t even go there, Tiff, I’ve told you before.”
“But it has to be worth a try, Mum, please?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Tiff, it’s been too long. They may have moved away years ago. I can’t just call out of the blue when I’m in trouble and ask for help, can I?”
“But, Mum, this is about me as well. It’s not just about you. I’m going to be sent off to a foster home, alone. They’re my family too, they’re not just yours.”
My mum drags her hand through her hair.
“OK,” she sniffs, “I’ll do my best, Tiff, I promise.”
The policeman tells us our time is up. I put the plug in my feelings and pull away. “Now be good and do what they tell you,” I say. “No more tantrums.”
“No more tantrums,” Mum echoes.
Benita takes hold of my hand and heads for the door; Mum holds the other one, not wanting to let me go. They’re both hanging on, tugging gently. Mum’s hand and mine slide apart until we’re just touching fingertips, until there’s just space between us, and then she crumples in a heap on her orange chair.
“I love you, babe,” she whispers.
“I love you, Mum.”
Chapter 7 (#ulink_02df6694-1094-5c5a-a144-f50cc9462d24)
so I need you to trust me…
A man in a funny hat comes into the room where me and Benita are still waiting. Chardonnay is on my lap. Her little body keeps trembling and she’s looking all lost and worried. In one day she’s gone from being cosy at home with her mum and puppy brothers and sisters to being in a police room, on her way to the kennels. I hold her close wishing she were small enough to climb inside my pocket and come with me, wherever I’m going. Benita yawns, sips her hot tea and shakes hands with the man.
“Hi, Tiffany,” he says. He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Sorry I took so long to get to you.” He pulls up an orange chair and sits really close to me. “I know this must all be very difficult for you, Tiffany, and there’s a lot for you to take in,” he says. “My name’s Amida and I’m your social worker. It’s my job to make sure that you’re safe tonight, until we’ve sorted somewhere else for you. I’m going to take you to a lovely family, where you can get some sleep and something to eat. Your mum knows that we’re taking good care of you, so I need you to trust me. Do you have any questions, Tiffany?”
I shake my head. I have at least seven million questions whizzing through my brain about what’s happening in my life and why my mum’s in a police station crying. And about what has actually happened and what Mikey did. And if someone from Sark will come and find me and if they do what will they be like. But all my questions are squashed together in the little worry bag that’s stuck in my throat.
“Great then,” he says, standing up, yawning. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Benita hands him my wheelie suitcase and takes Chardonnay from my lap. Chardonnay wriggles and yelps, trying to get back to me. She looks really worried about what’s happening, so I stroke her head to calm her down. I want to give her a kiss goodbye, but I can’t trust that my feelings won’t spill out all over the place. I give her one last pat, take a very deep breath to keep everything under control and stand up on my jelly legs.
“I promise she’ll be well looked after,” calls Benita as we leave the room.
Amida’s car smells of leather and peppermints. He offers me one but I shake my head, I don’t want it. He tucks a cosy blanket around me to warm me up and calm my chattering teeth, and does up my seatbelt to save me the trouble.
“The people you’re going to be staying with are called Darren and Claudia – you’ll like them; they’ll be up waiting for us. I’ve already told them all about you.” He yawns. “It’s been a long old night for you, eh?”
I don’t have any voice left tonight, not for anyone. And even if I did, why would I want to talk to some nosy old social worker about how I’m feeling and how long my night has been? It’s not like he’s really interested, is it? He’s just doing his job and trying to be kind. But I don’t need kind, I need my life back. What does he even expect me to say? Some sad old story about how my whole entire life has been ruined in one night, just so he can feel sorry for me? Or about how I’m starting to feel really angry with my mum? Well, whatever it is he wants from me he’s not getting it. No one is. My mouth is staying firmly zipped.
“Here we are,” says Amida, parking the car in front of a big house, “I’ll come back to see you in the morning, Tiffany. I hope you sleep well.”
A man wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old woolly jumper comes out of the house, followed by a lady in a pink-and-white spotted dressing gown. Amida pulls my wheelie suitcase from the boot of his car.
“Thanks for this,” he says to them. “Sorry it’s such short notice.”
The car door is opened for me and the lady, Claudia, helps me out. My legs feel heavy and I want to lie down.
“Welcome, Tiffany,” she gushes, taking hold of me and guiding me along the dark path. “Let’s get you tucked up in bed shall we?”
I hear Amida drive away and am left alone with two more new people to get used to. I follow them into the house and have some milk and biscuits without a fuss. Claudia takes me into a green bedroom that has a blue rug on the floor and a yellow teddy on the bed. She helps me into my pyjamas and carries on chatting away, not minding that I’m not joining in. I clean my teeth with weird-tasting toothpaste.
