Home Girl Page 11

  Nats nodded. “Speech, sistren, speech!”

  I wondered: when I was old enough, would I be able to adopt my nan? I have her interest at heart.

  I think Colleen was relieved when Nats and Kim got up to leave. We showed them to the door.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a lift?” Colleen said.

  “No thanks, Mrs. Golding,” Nats replied. “We’re good.”

  I stepped to the end of the road with them and watched them walk around the corner. Suddenly, Nats hot-toed back to me. I thought she had forgotten something. “Thanks for inviting me too,” she said. She gave me a long hug. I couldn’t remember her doing that before. “I appreciate it.”

  “I appreciate that you could make it,” I said. “And thanks for bigging me up about my dancing. With all the drama in my life, I forgot about that.”

  “I love you, Naoms,” Nats said, then laughed. “Obviously not as much as Kim, but it’s for real.”

  “Love you too, Nats.”

  She then hot-stepped back to Kim.

  When I reached home, Colleen was still waiting for me outside the front door.

  “So, what d’you think of Kim and Nats?” I asked.

  Colleen angled her face. “Hmmm.”

  “What d’you mean, hmmm? Tell me what you think of my sistrens.”

  “They’re . . . radical. Anti-everything. They don’t trust anyone.”

  “Radical? What does that mean?”

  “I know social services aren’t perfect and that goes for everybody working in it, but Kim and Nats are so . . .”

  “So what?” I pressed.

  “There are good people working in social services that try and do a lot of good. And Kim and Nats should recognize that.”

  “And you should recognize that they talk it how they see it! It’s social services and peeps like you who should fix up. Not us!”

  I didn’t wanna go to war with Colleen, but in social worker speak she had a pop at my sistrens. I’m not having that.

  I brushed past her and stormtrooped to my room. Half an hour later, I felt bad. I went downstairs and thanked Colleen and Tony for giving my party.

  Tony chuckled. “It’s nice to know that I made a complete fool of myself and you enjoyed it.”

  “It wasn’t all for nothing,” Colleen added.

  They smell of old-school rules but I’m warming to Tony and Colleen. Wonder what these Hamiltons are like when they pick the sleep outta their eyes in the morning.

  chapter nine

  The Hamiltons

  “Have you got everything, Naomi?”

  “Yeah,” I replied from my bedroom.

  Dressed in jeans, a Zooey Deschanel T-shirt that Kim had given me, a leather jacket tucked under my arm, and my meerkat held in my other, I answered the door. My rucksack was already strapped to my back.

  “Ready?” Louise asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hold up!” said Colleen. “You’re forgetting your sandwiches.”

  “I’m sure the Hamiltons will give Naomi anything she needs,” said Louise. “You really shouldn’t have—”

  “I asked Colleen to make me something,” I cut in. “I might not like the . . . Who are they again?”

  “The Hamiltons,” reminded Louise.

  “I might not like their food. So I’ve got my corned beef–and-cucumber sandwiches.”

  “Let’s skip,” said Louise. “Susan’s expecting us at ten.”

  I waited until my butt was snugged in the passenger seat of Louise’s car before I had a go at her. “Bit harsh, weren’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Having a go at Colleen for making me sandwiches.”

  “I wasn’t having a go at her.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “It’s not like you’re off camping, Naomi,” Louise said. “You’re overreacting a bit. Do you think the Hamiltons will starve you?”

  “As I said, I might not love their food.”

  “Then they’ll get what you ask for.”

  “They might not. They might serve me turd waffles or farts on toast.”

  Shaking her head, Louise made the twenty-minute journey from the Goldings’ home to the Hamiltons’ place. It was somewhere high up near Spenge with a neat view. When Louise pulled up I didn’t wanna step out of the car.

  “Come on, Naomi, time to go.”

  I stared through the windshield, held on tight to my meerkat, and released the rebel in me.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” said Louise after a while. “I was a bit impolite to Colleen.”

  I grinned at my victory. I climbed out of the car and looked up at the three-story town house. “What floor do they live on?”

  “It’s all theirs,” Louise replied. “They have a lovely big garden too.”

  Monkey playing hide-and-seek with the queen’s hounds. Louise has found me first-class peeps to live with. Nan would be proper impressed. I’m gonna hustle some good pocket money while I’m here. No more Austria territory for me.

  We walked up a flight of concrete steps that led to a wide front door. I looked around. There were gaps between the houses. I spotted a supermarket van delivering food to one of the neighbors. I could almost sniff the salmon and Belgian chocolates. There were no long council slabs in sight.

  “Here we are,” said Louise.

  “What’s she like?” I asked.

  “Susan’s lovely. She’s great with your age group. Very sporty. She has been volunteering at the youth club on South Smeckenham Road for years and she goes away on residentials with them. She’s very well liked and respected.”

  “What’s residentials?”

  “It’s where the youth workers take young people to a youth hostel for a weekend. They learn things like canoeing and rock climbing. Perhaps you might be interested in that?”

  I offered Louise my top-ranking really look. I didn’t think she’d go to canoeing and rock climbing ever again. Doesn’t she know me? Adults are so dumb sometimes.

  The door opened to reveal a curly-headed, forty-

  something woman. Her freckles could’ve satisfied some young dot-to-dotter and her suntan had gone a bit wrong. She was wearing a white T-shirt, black jeans, and flip-flops. Doesn’t she know it’s cold?

  Susan greeted me with a game-show smile. “So nice to meet you, Naomi. Everything’s ready for you. I’m making brunch if you want it.”

  “Making what?” I said. My feet didn’t move.

  “A late breakfast or early lunch,” Louise explained.

  I wasn’t sure if I could connect with somebody who spilled the word brunch in a convo. I don’t think this is gonna end like a Walt Disney film.

  “Come on in,” said Susan, grinning like a clown who wasn’t getting any love from her audience.

  I followed her through a tall hallway. Framed film posters hung from the walls. I stopped to take a closer look. Bugsy Malone, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. The only one I had heard of was Willy Wonka, but that wasn’t Johnny Depp in the poster. They must’ve made an ancient Willy Wonka movie that didn’t do too well.

  “Come on, Naomi,” said Louise.

  Stepping down a few steps, I found myself in a kitchen big enough to cook for all the Oompa Loompas, the seven dwarves, and Bugsy Malone’s crew. There was a mad variety of blenders, mixers, steamers, and grilling machines. The fridge was so wide you could’ve deep-froze a dinosaur in it. A wooden table stood in the middle and the glass fruit bowl that sat on top of it was full of grapes, apples, oranges, and blueberries. Jamie Oliver would’ve nodded.

  I took a seat at the table and started on my sandwiches.

  “If you want I can make you something hot,” offered Susan. “Eggs and bacon? I bought some organic mushrooms yesterday so I’ll throw those in if you like?”

  I shook my head and bit a sandwich in half. The cucumber was nice and cool. I wondered what Pablo, Sharyna, Tony, and Colleen were up to.
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  “I’ve got all kinds of juices,” said Susan. “Apple, orange, pineapple, cranberry. If you like I can use the fruit blender to make a cocktail of your choice. It’s very easy. I just place them in the blender, switch a button, and—”

  “You got Coke?” I chopped her flow.

  “Er . . . no.”

  “I’ll have orange juice then,” I said. “But I want Coke for later on.”

  “Doesn’t do the teeth any favors,” said Susan. “They say there’s four teaspoons of sugar in every can of Coke. Maybe more.”

  “I don’t care,” I replied.

  “You’ll suffer for it when you get older.”

  “Then I’ll worry about it then.”

  She’s a bit naggy. Worse than Tony. I side-eyed Susan. She grinned away the awkwardness and went to pour the orange juice. I sniffed her fear. Good, I can use that. The rebel in me’s gonna have nuff playtime here.

  Louise sat beside me and patted me on the back. “Susan loves cooking, Naomi. I’m sure you’re going to have lots of fun baking on Sunday.”

  “Yes,” nodded Susan.

  Monkey on a bike. This is gonna be like the Holmans’ situation. She’s so eager to please I might ask her to wipe my butt.

  “Naomi can flick through my big cake book, decide what she likes, and we can buy the ingredients tomorrow morning,” said Susan. “Wouldn’t you like that, Naomi?”

  God. Does she think I’m six? Hold it down, Naoms, you’ve just met her. Don’t launch any cuss missiles at her just yet. Try and be polite. Otherwise, Louise will jump on your tits.

  I nodded. “I s’pose so.”

  I closed my eyes. In my head I could see my dad in our cramped kitchen. He had a white cabbage in one hand and a bread knife in the other. His breath was polluted with Appleton Special Rum—a bandy-legged Jamaican with a ruby tooth came home with Dad and the rum one long night. For Dad it was love at first sample.

  An unsteady pot half-filled with water was waiting on the stove.

  “Where’s the chopping board?” Dad asked.

  “It’s beside the sink,” I replied. “Dad, you don’t have to cook. I don’t mind.”

  “Don’t have to frucking do it?” Dad snapped. “I’m your dad, for God’s sake! Can’t I cook for my own nine-year-old daughter? What kinda dad d’you think I am? Now where’s the frucking board?”

  “In the cupboard beside the sink,” I pointed.

  “I’ll show ya and the social people,” Dad said. “I’ll show ’em all! I can cook for my daughter. Frucking social services! Coming here with their judgements.”

  * * *

  “Naomi,” Louise called. “Naomi!”

  “Oh, sorry, Louise.”

  “Daydreaming again?” Louise said. “Susan has just asked you if you want a tour of the house.”

  “Yeah, okay. Just a bit tired.”

  “Would you like the tour?” Susan asked. “Or do you want a rest?”

  “You haven’t got a museum upstairs, have ya, and a liccle shop where I can buy souvenirs?” I joked.

  Susan busted out a chuckle.

  Starting off the tour in the basement, I spotted a set of golf clubs among three mountain bikes, a small canoe, and more helmets than you would find on a big building site. I couldn’t give Susan top ratings for first impressions but I thought I’d better try and still be sociable so Louise couldn’t nag the lip balm off me.

  “Your man plays golf, does he?” I asked.

  “No,” said Susan, “I do. He plays badminton.”

  “Do you paddle in that?” I asked, pointing at the canoe.

  “Yes, I do,” Susan replied proudly. A big grin stretched her lips.

  “You’re not getting me in there. Bomb that.”

  After showing me the shed in the garden, which had a long table, a shelf of DIY books, a desktop computer, a small TV, and garden stuff inside it, Susan led me to the first floor. In one room was an office where Susan’s man worked when he was at home. Another room had a lot of books inside of it and a desk. “This is where our daughter Emily likes to study,” Susan said. “She’ll be home later on.”

  The bedrooms were on the second floor. “Feel at home, won’t you, Naomi,” said Susan as she showed me to my room. “If you get peckish then just wander down to the kitchen and get yourself something. Perhaps cheese on buttered crackers? I love that in the morning with my juice.”

  “Thanks, but I prefer something hot like bacon and eggs.”

  “If you like, we can visit the leisure center this afternoon, perhaps go for a swim?”

  “Nah, don’t feel like it.”

  “Or if you fancy, I can load the mountain bikes in the four-by-four and we can drive to the Smeckenham Hills for an afternoon cycle?”

  I hadn’t ridden a bike for the longest time. I thought about it. “Too cold.”

  “Is there anything you want to do this morning?” Susan asked. She looked a bit desperate. Maybe she needs to have a sit-down and sink her buttered crackers with a juice of her fancy.

  “I wanna sit down in my room, watch a film, and be left on my lonesome,” I responded. “Is that too much to ask? You got a TV in there, right? And a DVD player?”

  “Er, yes, I have. Louise told me what you like.”

  I parked myself on the double bed and took in my surroundings. There was a fat wardrobe big enough to give a boatful of refugees shelter. The dressing table was long enough for a b-ball player to stretch out and have a yawn. Small-framed cartoon peeps watched me from the walls: Daffy Duck, Barney Rubble, Inspector Gadget, and Scooby-Doo. I began to think that Susan was curb-butting cadazy and had more issues than I did. Maybe she needs fostering and looking after.

  “If you want anything just give me a toot,” she said. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  “All right,” I said.

  I dropped my bag on the floor and hugged my meerkat. I still haven’t found a name for you. One day I will. I stared again at the pictures on the wall. Messed up.

  When I heard Susan’s footsteps fading down the stairs, I opened a zip pocket of my rucksack and took out matches and a pack of cigarettes that I had jacked from the glove compartment of Louise’s car. I closed the door and opened the window. Shutting my eyes, I thought of Dad.

  He was asleep on my bed. My meerkat was beside him. It was covered in green-yellowy sick. I washed it, rinsed it, and dried it. The next morning, Dad spotted the meerkat in my arms. He was sober. He winked me a grin. He didn’t remember that he had vomited all over my fave toy. I didn’t speak to him for days.

  Striking a match, I watched it burn and wither. I blew the flame out and flung it out the window. I struck another match and fired up my fagarette. Dad’s image was still in my head as I took my first inhale. I hope he’s put a big full stop to his drinking. I hope he’s okay . . . wherever he is.

  Smoking the cancer stick down to the butt, I took out one of my horror film DVDs, slapped it into the DVD player, and pressed play.

  Half an hour later, I puffed on my second cigarette. I watched a scene from my film where a clown-masked bruv chopped off this young chick’s toes with a tomahawk. Why do so many blondes in the films I watch suffer from so much brain cell shortage? You were warned twice about stepping into the woods.

  I stayed in my bedroom for the rest of the day. I only came out once to make myself a tuna-on-toast late lunch. Susan had asked how I was a few times but I was missing Sharyna and Pablo. I’m not gonna lie, I missed Tony and Colleen too. Who’s gonna do my hair? And I didn’t think Susan’s school days would be as dramatic as Colleen’s so I wouldn’t bother asking.

  Someone knocked on my door. I paused the movie, climbed off the bed, and opened it.

  Standing under the doorframe was a smiling Susan and this pretty young chick. She was pretty enough to be hunted in the woods by an axe murderer. “Can I introduce my daughter to you, Naomi?”

  “I s’pose so,” I shrugged.

  “This is Emily! I’m so proud of her.”

&nb
sp; Then give her a fricking sticky star!

  “Hi, Naomi,” Emily smiled. “I see you’re just chillaxing.”

  Chillaxing? What cool peeps use that word nowadays?

  I thought of tomahawk man catching up with her in some remote cabin. “Yeah, just watching a film that a friend gave me,” I said. “Your pops here as well?”

  “Not yet,” Susan answered for Emily. “He’s in Brussels, meeting businessmen from Qatar. He’s going to design a building for them.”

  “From where?” I asked.

  “Qatar,” Susan repeated. “In the Middle East.”

  “The middle east,” I repeated. “Don’t make sense. How can it be middle if it’s in the east?”

  Susan busted out a giggle. “I’ll leave you two to get to know each other.”

  Susan posh-toed downstairs as I pressed play on the DVD remote control. The movie wasn’t smacking my like spots but it beat trying to make a sistren outta Emily. I hoped she’d disappear but she parked on my bed wondering what to say.

  “Fancy going out for a drive and getting something to eat?” she said after a while.

  The ending of the film was rubbish. The dumb chick with missing toes got rescued. It was proper disappointing. I pressed the stop button and ejected the DVD. “Yeah,” I said. “Bomb this film. Don’t know why my sistren says I have to watch it.”

  Bouncing downstairs, Emily and I stepped into the kitchen where Susan was seasoning a fat fish. Baby potatoes were waiting on a counter beside a bowlful of greens next to a plate of green herbs. Susan wore an apron with a giant cauliflower printed on it—at least it wasn’t a cartoon character.

  Louise had always told me that she wanted me to sample a dose of normalness. This isn’t normal.

  I thought of Mum.

  “I’m taking Naomi out to get something to eat,” said Emily.

  “But I’m just about to put the fish into the oven,” said Susan. I had to give her ratings for hiding her disappointment.

  “She’s been cooped up for most of the day inside her room,” said Emily. “She needs some fresh air.”

  “I do happen to be here,” I put in. “I can talk for myself. But yeah, you’re not wrong, I do need to flush out my lungs.”