repeated the ‘d’ again, as if I had a stammer. Where could I be going? The dancing school? The draper’s? The doll shop? Then it came to me.
‘The dentist’s,’ I said, tapping my teeth.
‘Oh dear! Well, I hope it doesn’t hurt too much. Off you go then – and tell your mother to bring you along to my surgery tomorrow.’
‘OH, FOR PITY’S sake, Elsie,’ Mum exploded. ‘Why did you have to go hanging round the blooming
doctor’s?
What were you doing there anyway?’
‘I – I got a bit lost on the way to school,’ I stammered.
‘What are you – a halfwit? You were in a daydream, weren’t you, playing some baby game and muttering away to yourself like a loony!’ said Mum.
I nodded meekly, glad that she was giving me such a good alibi. She’d get even crosser if she knew I’d bunked off school all day. It hadn’t been worth it. I’d been so worried about Dr Malory and the authorities that I hadn’t enjoyed a single moment. In the end, I didn’t dare go round the shops because my wretched school uniform was so noticeable. I’d lurked in the park all day instead.
I was very bad at mental arithmetic, but even I knew there were only seven hours between nine and four. There had seemed to be seventy-seven hours in this day. I nearly wore out the soles of my boy’s shoes trailing miserably round and round the park. I went on the swings until I saw the attendant hobbling towards me. He was famous for having been wounded in the war – he had lost a leg. He seemed to have permanently lost his temper too, and was forever yelling at children.
I ran away quick and hid in the bushes. I watched him stumping along, worrying that my own limp might get as bad. I crouched in the bushes until I got cramp, and then I trudged right to the other side of the park and hung about by the duck pond. I was so hungry by now I helped myself to a couple of crusts the ducks had ignored. I was thirsty too, but I drew the line at duck-pond water. I did paddle for a little while because my feet were rubbed sore inside my shoes, but the pond was as cold as ice and I stepped on a tin can and cut my foot. It was only a little cut, but it bled and I worried about that too.
I sat on a park bench waggling my foot in the air, and an old man in a greasy raincoat came and sat beside me. He offered me his hankie for a bandage, but there was something furtive about him and he was sitting much too close to me, so I grabbed my shoes, stuffed my feet inside, and ran for it.
By the time I eventually dared go home I was exhausted. Mum was out after all that. I ate five slices of bread and jam, one after the other, drank two glasses of orange squash, and then curled up on Nan’s chair and went to sleep.
Mum came home at six, equally dispirited. She kicked off her high heels and smoked two cigarettes in succession, tapping the ash impatiently. There was no point asking her if she’d got the job. It was obvious she hadn’t.
We had Spam and chips for tea, which I usually enjoyed, but I already had my five slices of bread churning around in my stomach. I knew I had to tell Mum about Dr Malory.
I only screwed up the courage to do it at bedtime. Mum was furious, as I’d expected.
‘It’s not
my
fault, Mum,’ I whined. ‘I’m just passing on the message.’
‘Well, you’ve passed it on. Now button your lip about it,’ she snapped. ‘Off to bed.’
I hovered. Whenever Mum told me off like that I imagined the big maroon buttons on Nan’s winter coat. I saw them sewn along my top lip and firmly attached to little slits in my bottom lip. I knew how important it was to keep them in place. But somehow tonight I couldn’t stop them unbuttoning of their own accord.
‘So can I stay off school tomorrow or will we go after?’ I said.
‘What? Go where?’
‘To the
doctor’s
,’ I said, wondering if Mum had been listening after all. Sometimes I’d talk to her for half an hour and she’d say yes and no in the right places, but
‘The dentist’s,’ I said, tapping my teeth.
‘Oh dear! Well, I hope it doesn’t hurt too much. Off you go then – and tell your mother to bring you along to my surgery tomorrow.’
‘OH, FOR PITY’S sake, Elsie,’ Mum exploded. ‘Why did you have to go hanging round the blooming
doctor’s?
What were you doing there anyway?’
‘I – I got a bit lost on the way to school,’ I stammered.
‘What are you – a halfwit? You were in a daydream, weren’t you, playing some baby game and muttering away to yourself like a loony!’ said Mum.
I nodded meekly, glad that she was giving me such a good alibi. She’d get even crosser if she knew I’d bunked off school all day. It hadn’t been worth it. I’d been so worried about Dr Malory and the authorities that I hadn’t enjoyed a single moment. In the end, I didn’t dare go round the shops because my wretched school uniform was so noticeable. I’d lurked in the park all day instead.
I was very bad at mental arithmetic, but even I knew there were only seven hours between nine and four. There had seemed to be seventy-seven hours in this day. I nearly wore out the soles of my boy’s shoes trailing miserably round and round the park. I went on the swings until I saw the attendant hobbling towards me. He was famous for having been wounded in the war – he had lost a leg. He seemed to have permanently lost his temper too, and was forever yelling at children.
I ran away quick and hid in the bushes. I watched him stumping along, worrying that my own limp might get as bad. I crouched in the bushes until I got cramp, and then I trudged right to the other side of the park and hung about by the duck pond. I was so hungry by now I helped myself to a couple of crusts the ducks had ignored. I was thirsty too, but I drew the line at duck-pond water. I did paddle for a little while because my feet were rubbed sore inside my shoes, but the pond was as cold as ice and I stepped on a tin can and cut my foot. It was only a little cut, but it bled and I worried about that too.
I sat on a park bench waggling my foot in the air, and an old man in a greasy raincoat came and sat beside me. He offered me his hankie for a bandage, but there was something furtive about him and he was sitting much too close to me, so I grabbed my shoes, stuffed my feet inside, and ran for it.
By the time I eventually dared go home I was exhausted. Mum was out after all that. I ate five slices of bread and jam, one after the other, drank two glasses of orange squash, and then curled up on Nan’s chair and went to sleep.
Mum came home at six, equally dispirited. She kicked off her high heels and smoked two cigarettes in succession, tapping the ash impatiently. There was no point asking her if she’d got the job. It was obvious she hadn’t.
We had Spam and chips for tea, which I usually enjoyed, but I already had my five slices of bread churning around in my stomach. I knew I had to tell Mum about Dr Malory.
I only screwed up the courage to do it at bedtime. Mum was furious, as I’d expected.
‘It’s not
my
fault, Mum,’ I whined. ‘I’m just passing on the message.’
‘Well, you’ve passed it on. Now button your lip about it,’ she snapped. ‘Off to bed.’
I hovered. Whenever Mum told me off like that I imagined the big maroon buttons on Nan’s winter coat. I saw them sewn along my top lip and firmly attached to little slits in my bottom lip. I knew how important it was to keep them in place. But somehow tonight I couldn’t stop them unbuttoning of their own accord.
‘So can I stay off school tomorrow or will we go after?’ I said.
‘What? Go where?’
‘To the
doctor’s
,’ I said, wondering if Mum had been listening after all. Sometimes I’d talk to her for half an hour and she’d say yes and no in the right places, but
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