The Dead Ex(26)

‘Dawnie, Dawnie!’

Scarlet stepped back – only just in time to avoid her friend’s fist, which cut the air in front of her.

‘Ow! She’s broken my nose.’

‘What’s going on?’ A teacher was there.

‘It was her fault.’ Dawn was pointing to the girl on the ground, who was yelling, her face covered in blood. ‘Go on, Scarlet. Tell her.’

If anyone asks you what happened in the game, Mum used to say, always blame someone else.

‘This girl,’ said Scarlet pointing to bloody face, ‘upset me because she said I was black. My friend was just sticking up for me.’

‘You made a racist remark?’

‘So? My dad says they should all be chucked out and sent back to where they come from.’

‘Get up. You’re coming inside with me.’ The teacher nodded at Dawn. ‘You take care of the new girl while I sort this out.’

‘Well done,’ said Dawn, slapping Scarlet’s back. ‘That teacher’s new so she still reckons she can change stuff.’

The others in the playground were keeping their distance, as if they were scared.

‘Why did you get so upset when she called you “Dawnie”?’

‘None of your fucking business.’

Scarlet didn’t feel so safe any more. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’d better be. Now you’ll have to make it up.’

‘How?’

‘We’re going to bunk off again on Friday.’

‘To play the game?’

Dawn gave a sound that was a sort of a laugh. ‘If that’s what you want to call it.’

Scarlet felt a bit scared and a bit excited at the same time.

‘Here.’ Dawn gave her a nudge. ‘Go into the office and tell them that you need a pair of emergency pants. You can’t go back on the bus like that.’

‘But won’t they tell me off?’

‘They’ll want to suck up to you now in case you put in a racist complaint.’ She grinned. ‘Nice work.’

That afternoon, when they got back to the house, Mrs Walters was waiting.

‘Upstairs,’ she said grimly to Scarlet. ‘What the hell do you call this?’

She was pointing at the damp patch on the sheet.

‘I don’t like bedwetters. I told you that before.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Scarlet heard her voice in her head but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth properly.

‘What did you say?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Louder.’

Scarlet tried again. ‘Sorry.’

‘I do the sheets once a month. I’m not wasting money on you just because your waste-of-space mother never bothered potty training you. You can sleep on them until the next wash day. Now come downstairs for tea. You lot are going to bed early tonight.’

They had one and a half fish fingers each for supper. Dawn was sitting next to her. Scarlet already knew what to do. When Mrs W’s back was turned, she quickly handed over the whole one to thank Dawn for being her friend. The peas were only half-cooked, so Dawn didn’t want those. Scarlet devoured them ravenously.

‘What’s for afters?’ asked Darren.

‘There ain’t none.’

‘You’re meant to give it to us.’

‘And you lot aren’t meant to nick stuff from our fridge.’

They all froze. The voice came from a small, fat man standing at the doorway. Scarlet hadn’t seen him before but guessed who he was from what Dawn had already told her. Mr W was a lorry driver. He was away a lot. Sometimes he took his son with him. That must be the teenage boy next to him that the social worker had mentioned. They both had huge ears, like cauliflowers, that looked too big for their heads.

Mr W’s black beady eyes searched the table.

‘Come on. Own up. I’ll find out sooner or later.’

Silence thudded in Scarlet’s ears.

‘I’ll be watching you lot. Every one.’

To her horror, his eye fell on her. ‘So this is the new girl. The bedwetter.’

The other kids sniggered. Including Dawn. Scarlet felt hurt. She was meant to be her friend.

‘Well, Miss Pee-In-Your-Bed, I’ve got some news for you.’ He waggled a finger, and she noticed that, like his ears, his hands seemed too large for the rest of him. ‘The social worker’s taking you to visit your jailbird mother on Friday.’

‘Thank you, thank you!’

She wanted to jump up and down.

‘But if you wet your bed again, miss, you won’t be going. Got it?’

Scarlet’s heart sang all the way upstairs. It didn’t stop singing even when Darren and Dawn made lots of noise again. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and prayed to the universe that Mum would somehow escape from prison and get her out of here. Then everything would be all right again.





11



Vicki


It’s not like the films. It doesn’t happen immediately. The noose feels quite loose at first when the police start to question you. But then it begins to tighten.

At least, that’s how one of the girls on my wing described it. At the time, I’d put it down to fanciful prose on her part. She was prone to making things up. My own experience of going inside was quite different. But now I’m beginning to see what she meant.