“Hi, Tiffany,” he says. He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Sorry I took so long to get to you.” He pulls up an orange chair and sits really close to me. “I know this must all be very difficult for you, Tiffany, and there’s a lot for you to take in,” he says. “My name’s Amida and I’m your social worker. It’s my job to make sure that you’re safe tonight, until we’ve sorted somewhere else for you. I’m going to take you to a lovely family, where you can get some sleep and something to eat. Your mum knows that we’re taking good care of you, so I need you to trust me. Do you have any questions, Tiffany?”
I shake my head. I have at least seven million questions whizzing through my brain about what’s happening in my life and why my mum’s in a police station crying. And about what has actually happened and what Mikey did. And if someone from Sark will come and find me and if they do what will they be like. But all my questions are squashed together in the little worry bag that’s stuck in my throat.
“Great then,” he says, standing up, yawning. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Benita hands him my wheelie suitcase and takes Chardonnay from my lap. Chardonnay wriggles and yelps, trying to get back to me. She looks really worried about what’s happening, so I stroke her head to calm her down. I want to give her a kiss goodbye, but I can’t trust that my feelings won’t spill out all over the place. I give her one last pat, take a very deep breath to keep everything under control and stand up on my jelly legs.
“I promise she’ll be well looked after,” calls Benita as we leave the room.
Amida’s car smells of leather and peppermints. He offers me one but I shake my head, I don’t want it. He tucks a cosy blanket around me to warm me up and calm my chattering teeth, and does up my seatbelt to save me the trouble.
“The people you’re going to be staying with are called Darren and Claudia – you’ll like them; they’ll be up waiting for us. I’ve already told them all about you.” He yawns. “It’s been a long old night for you, eh?”
I don’t have any voice left tonight, not for anyone. And even if I did, why would I want to talk to some nosy old social worker about how I’m feeling and how long my night has been? It’s not like he’s really interested, is it? He’s just doing his job and trying to be kind. But I don’t need kind, I need my life back. What does he even expect me to say? Some sad old story about how my whole entire life has been ruined in one night, just so he can feel sorry for me? Or about how I’m starting to feel really angry with my mum? Well, whatever it is he wants from me he’s not getting it. No one is. My mouth is staying firmly zipped.
“Here we are,” says Amida, parking the car in front of a big house, “I’ll come back to see you in the morning, Tiffany. I hope you sleep well.”
A man wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old woolly jumper comes out of the house, followed by a lady in a pink-and-white spotted dressing gown. Amida pulls my wheelie suitcase from the boot of his car.
“Thanks for this,” he says to them. “Sorry it’s such short notice.”
The car door is opened for me and the lady, Claudia, helps me out. My legs feel heavy and I want to lie down.
“Welcome, Tiffany,” she gushes, taking hold of me and guiding me along the dark path. “Let’s get you tucked up in bed shall we?”
I hear Amida drive away and am left alone with two more new people to get used to. I follow them into the house and have some milk and biscuits without a fuss. Claudia takes me into a green bedroom that has a blue rug on the floor and a yellow teddy on the bed. She helps me into my pyjamas and carries on chatting away, not minding that I’m not joining in. I clean my teeth with weird-tasting toothpaste.
“Night then, Tiffany,” says Darren, popping his head round the door. “We’re just in the room next to you, so if you need anything in the night, or if you’re worried and need to talk, just come and wake us up, OK?”
Claudia’s soft hands tuck me in. She leaves my door open a bit so a sliver of landing light can peep its way in. Shadows hang on my walls and strange sounds creak and creep around me. New fabric-softener smells sit in my nose and tickle my face. And when it’s safe and quiet and there’s no one around, the tears sneak out of my eyes. They trickle at first and then a dark monster in my stomach lurches up and pushes hard. My face crumples like a stupid piece of rubbish paper and my voice wants to call out for my mum and Chardonnay. But I won’t let it call, and I won’t let it call for stupid Darren or stupid Claudia either. Instead, I bite hard on the yellow teddy and try to sleep.
today is not happening…
I keep waking up in the night and have to keep reminding myself where I am. When I open my eyes in the morning Claudia is standing there.
“Good morning, Tiffany,” she says, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Did you sleep well?” I shrug, ignore her questions, and try to find the safe place in my head where my life hasn’t been ruined. She doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not answering her and just carries on jabbering away. “Amida is popping back this morning, Tiffany, to have a chat and let you know what’s happening. Why don’t you have a shower and some breakfast and get yourself ready for the day?”
She takes me out into the hallway and introduces me to the girl in the next room. “This is Matilda,” says Claudia, “she’s the same age as you. She’ll show you the ropes, OK?”
“I only need to know where the shower is,” I say to Matilda when Claudia has gone. “I don’t need to see anything else. I’m being picked up soon.”
Matilda steps forward and grabs my arm, hard. “Wake up, new girl,” she sneers. “We’re all here for ever. No one’s coming back for you, no one wants you around any more; this is the rubbish dump and you’ve been dumped here, just like the rest of us. So get used to it.”
“You’re wrong,” I say, trying to stare her out, “someone is coming for me, soon.” But she’s good at staring, very good. She’s better than Chelsea, better than me. My stupid tummy turns to jelly again. Matilda pushes me into the bathroom, slams the door behind us and shows me her fist.
“See this?” she says. “You just make sure you don’t get in my way, otherwise my fist might find itself bumping into your teeth.”
“You won’t need to worry about me for long,” I brave, staring at her with hard eyes, to hide my fear. “I told you, I’m getting out of here soon. Very soon.”
But she just makes a rude sign at me and walks out.
I run the shower – hot. Is Matilda right? Am I on the rubbish dump for good? I wet a pink flannel in the hot water and bite the fluff hard while my body trembles and more tears sneak from my eyes. I panic that I might never be able to stop because my tears just keep coming and coming. I’m worried that Matilda is outside the door, listening with her big ugly ears. So I make the shower go freezing cold to wake me up and try to think about more happy stuff, like the old film, Singing in the Rain. I pretend I’m holding a big black umbrella and I tipadee-tap-dance around the shower and try to make myself smile.
While I’m getting dressed I decide that today is actually not happening. I start rubbing all the horribleness out and try filling my mind with pictures of wonderful days and beautiful things. Like my mum on a good day when she’s all happy and we’re having a lovely time together at the funfair or the ice-skating rink. Like how happy she looks when she’s bought herself a new ring or when she’s spinning around on a