Mummy Knew by Lisa James Read Free Book Online Page B

contrast to the slimy ripped lino at home. Soft clean towels hung on the rail. The spare toilet roll was covered by a dolly with a long skirt, whose name was Amanda. Jenny offered to let me take her home once but I refused because I couldn’t bear to think of her sitting in our grimy toilet with the spiders. Besides, we never ever had a spare toilet roll; most of the time we had to use old pages from The Sun .
    I wouldn’t get out of the sweet-smelling bath until my fingers and toes were wrinkled like pink little prunes. At bedtime I’d squeeze in next to Jenny because I was bigger now and might hurt Nanny’s legs in my sleep. I liked sleeping with Jenny. She was soft and fat, perfect for cuddling, and her made-up stories were just as magical as the ones Nanny used to tell me when I was younger.
    On Saturday mornings Jenny would take me for a walk up to the High Street where we’d do some shopping. The Generation Game with Bruce Forsyth was on the television at the time and I’d make her laugh by doing an impression of Brucie’s pose and saying ‘Nice to see you, to see you nice.’
    Nanny would be sitting out on the balcony when we got back. She was virtually housebound now, and the only freshair she got was when she sat out on the balcony tending her geraniums and watching the world pass by. I’d go out and sit beside her. Sometimes we’d see Mummy and Dad walking in or out of our block but they didn’t wave, and nor did we.
    Sunday would start off nicely enough. Jenny was always trying to lose weight and had bought a yoga book so we’d clear a space in the front room and practise the Plough and the Cobra, the Bridge and the Bow. Usually we’d be in fits of giggles because neither of us could balance and we’d end up in all sorts of tangles, as if we were playing a game of Twister.
    Sunday lunch would be delicious. Sometimes Davie and Cheryl would turn up to pile their plates with Nanny’s special roast potatoes. But as the day wore on, my stomach would start to do little flips as I realised it would soon be time to go home. Home to the dirt, the disorganisation, the empty food cupboards, but worst of all, home to Mummy and Dad. Mummy who seemed to look straight through me most of the time when she wasn’t complaining that I was in her way and driving her crazy, and Dad, who alternated between his special brand of hot and cold treatment–friendly one minute, hostile and violent the next.
    At about seven o’clock the tears would start as I kissed Nanny goodbye. I’d lay my head against her chest and remember the times I used to fall asleep listening to her heart in the rocking chair when I was small. I revelled in her familiar warmth. I clung to her, not wanting to say goodbye because I never knew when I would see her again. It might be tomorrow or the day after, but Dad kept changing the rules and sometimes I wouldn’t be allowed to visit for weeks.
    ‘Now, now, pet,’ she said. ‘Don’t you cry. We’ll see you again soon and you can help me make a cake.’
    With a last kiss, Jenny led me back over the road. She would wait outside our block until I ran upstairs and waved to her out of Davie’s bedroom window to let her know I was safe. Except I never was, really. Not with Dad around.

Chapter Five
    A fter a few weeks without Mummy bringing in a salary, the tension in the flat rose to pressure-cooker levels. At first Dad had relished having her at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day, but soon the reality of life without a steady income began to bite. He seemed stuck in permanent Mr Hyde mode because he could no longer indulge quite so freely in his three main hobbies of smoking, drinking and gambling.
    Dad was obsessed with horseracing. He studied the form in The Sun and The Sporting Life and made sure to watch every televised race meeting. The only problem was that he wasn’t very good at picking winners.
    At the start of every race he’d perch on the edge of the sofa, restlessly shifting