Me by Marianne Holmes

Author:Marianne Holmes [Holmes, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Agora Books
Published: 2018-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

Debbie is lying on her back with one leg in the air, the St Christopher hangs down from her big toe. Little shafts of light that break through the weeping branches of the willow bounce off it, and the chain twists and shines like a tiny column of water.

‘Is it real silver?’ she asks. ‘Maybe if you sold it you could buy your own horse and a velvet hat and everything.’

‘Shhh,’ I say and sit up to unhook it. ‘Mum doesn’t know about it.’ We’re silent for a moment and I can hear Kit giving Mum exact instructions on how to tie up the piece of net she is holding. Kit found an old string shopping bag and has cut down the sides to make it as big as possible and they are trying to fix it to the dam. He thinks the net will catch bits of debris that get swept along the stream, but it has been so long since it rained that the flow of water is sluggish. I reckon by the time it’s finished, there’ll be no water to dam at all, and it’ll just look like a big pile of rubbish.

‘I hope she doesn’t ask me!’ says Debbie. ‘I can’t lie, honest.’

‘How can she if she doesn’t know about it?’ I poke her. ‘Debbie, he says there are horses where he lives! Imagine!’

‘But who is he?’

‘He didn’t tell me his name, but he must be a friend of my dad’s, mustn’t he?’ I don’t know my real dad’s name either because Mum always turns it into a joke.

‘What if he is your actual dad?’ I look at the St Christopher in my hand and think about Kit’s leg shaking and Mum cleaning the oven.

‘But then he would just come to the house to see us.’ I try and imagine the Cowboy in our house. ‘And why would Mum be so angry with him?’

‘I told my Mum about him and she reckons he’s just some ex-boyfriend messing with her. She says women like your mum have lots of skellingtons in their closets. Bet she’s just too ashamed to tell anyone about him.’ Debbie is still lying on her back, so, when I hit her in the stomach really hard with my sketch pad, she folds up heads to knees like a woodlouse.

‘Your mum doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ I shout. ‘She’s so fat she probably couldn’t even get any boyfriends apart from your dad!’

‘Ow,’ she says and grabs the St Christopher from my lap then runs out through the weeping branches into the sunshine. I chase her until finally she turns back towards the stream further along and stands holding the St Christopher over it in one hand, her other hand firmly on her hip.

‘Take it back about my Mum,’ she says, ‘she’s not fat! Anyway, she says your mum probably don’t even know who your dad is.’

‘Give it back!’ I shout and then I can hear Mum calling to us. ‘Quick, don’t let her see it.

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