The Illustrated Child by Polly Crosby

Author:Polly Crosby [Crosby, Polly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

She was very good at advice, and I tried to take Dad’s strange behaviour with a pinch of salt. After all, I must be hard to live with, too.

I finished my letter to her and licked the envelope closed. Stacey was still lying on the bed, her eyes closed, humming quietly to herself. I went over and sat next to her, holding my hand above her head, palm side down.

‘What are you doing?’ she said, opening her eyes and batting my hand away from where it hovered.

‘You’ve had twenty-three boyfriends,’ I said. I’d seen it on Grange Hill the other day. The bullies were doing it to a new girl. They’d counted to fifty-five before she noticed. Half the class had been sniggering behind her back. I’m like that girl, I thought. Thank God I don’t have to go to school.

‘What’s the point of that?’ Stacey said. ‘Who cares how many boyfriends anyone has?’

I shrugged. ‘Do you know who Terry Waite is?’ I asked.

She shook her head.

‘He’s this man who was held hostage for four years, three years in solitary confinement. Can you imagine being on your own with no one to talk to for three years? And he didn’t even have a window to look out of.’

‘A bit like being stuck in your dad’s shed,’ said Stacey.

‘But at least Dad has his paper and his paintbrushes,’ I said, then I remembered the forlorn broken brush, and I thought that Stacey might be right.

‘What’s with your dad at the moment anyway?’ she said, as if she could read my mind.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s gone a bit weird, hasn’t he?’

I thought of the Grange Hill bullies, how mean they could be. I thought of having to wear that stupid dress again. I was sick of being nice.

‘He’s probably got a brain tumour,’ I said, wincing inwardly, but Stacey laughed heartily. Guilty adrenaline surged through me, leaving my body limp and spent, and suddenly I had an acute and inexplicable urge for my mother

‘I wish Mum was here,’ I said, looking over at the portrait of Mary Mother-of-God, my mind mixing the two until the memories of my real mum all had a golden halo round her head.

‘I thought you didn’t get on?’

‘I just wish I had someone here who cared about me. Someone to talk to. Dad and I never talk any more, not about important stuff.’ I sighed.

‘You’ve got me.’ She sounded hurt.

I reached over and wrapped my arms around her. ‘I know. And I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Romilly!’ Dad’s panicked voice shot up the stairs.

I sighed and got up off my bed. ‘Here we go again,’ I said quietly.

Stacey giggled.

‘What is it?’ I said as I met him on the landing.

‘My mobiles!’ he said, bending over and gasping for breath. ‘They’re gone!’

Panic shot through me. ‘How can they be gone?’ I said, running to the landing window.

The mobiles were in the meadow, moving gently in the wind.

‘They’re there, Dad,’ I said, nodding towards them.

‘They’re… oh. Oh goodness.

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