Shine (10 page)

i’ve never seen anything so amazing…

“
I
don’t believe it,” groans Isla, climbing up the tree-house ladder with a large letter in her hand. “I got in. I passed the stupid school entrance exam. I tried really hard to mess it up, but I still got in. Now what am I going to do?”

“Just tell them, Isla,” says Max, filling jars with fresh leaves for his insects to eat. “Just tell them the truth and be done with it.”

“Go on,” I say. “You can do it Isla; there’s no point in keeping on pretending. You’ll just get in deeper and deeper until one day you’ll find yourself being shipped off to a school you don’t want to go to.”

Isla buries her head in her hands and starts crying. “It’s just the worst news ever. My mum’s ecstatic, she’s practically ordering my uniform already and I’m not even due to start until September. I think today is the worst day of my whole life.”

“Maxie baby,” calls a voice from the bottom of the ladder, “come here a minute.”

Isla and I snigger. “Maxie baby” groans and pokes his head through the trap door.

“Hi, Mum,” says Max.

“I think Midnight’s about to foal, and I thought you and the girls might like to come down to the field and watch? You’ll have to be ultra quiet and still,” she says, “but I thought you might enjoy the experience.”

Max looks at us and shrugs, “D’you fancy it?”

“Do we? Of course we do, Max!” I squeal.

Max gathers up some pencils and a sketchbook and we head off towards the field. It’s Valentine’s Day and me and Isla are busy mulling over possible foal names. I like Romeo and Cupid best, and Isla likes Valentine and Sweetheart. Max sticks his fingers down his throat and pretends to make himself sick.

“Girls are so dumb,” he laughs.

When we get to the field we all huddle in a heap, close to the hedge. Midnight is walking round and round in circles, panting and swishing and looking all agitated. Her ears are twitching back and she keeps twisting around, staring at her tummy. Max’s Mum offers some sweets around, and I don’t even bother to look at what I’m eating, I can’t take my eyes off Midnight.

Suddenly a big white bag thing pops out of Midnight and water gushes everywhere. She lies down and her panting gets louder. I’m holding my breath, waiting and waiting to see what happens next. Isla is smiling so much I think her face might split in two, and as usual, Max is busy drawing the whole event. He’s done little sketches of Midnight and of his mum and loads of Isla and me. And all around the edge of the page he’s drawn these amazing rosebuds and cartoon hearts. Suddenly, a little hoof appears and then another and then I see a soft, wet foal nose and a face with big eyes. Max’s mum is whispering to us all the time, telling us what’s happening.

“The white stuff is the placental sac,” she says. “The foal’s been growing inside it, swimming in the fluid, for almost a whole year now.”

I’ve never seen anything so amazing in my whole, entire life. Ever. Midnight is panting and pushing and the rest of the little foal’s body shoots out fast and flops on the floor. The placental sac is still covering its body and sits like a wet hoodie over its sweet black head. As it falls away the foal peers around, breathing in its first gasp of air, seeing the world for the very first time. Midnight lies back, puffing and snorting. She rolls over and pulls herself up. Then she’s nuzzling her baby and licking its face. Max’s mum hops up and pulls the sac away from the foal and checks that everything’s OK.

“It’s a filly,” she says, “a sweet little girl.” She gives Midnight a big hug and whispers into her ear. “Well done, girl, well done.”

After a while, the filly tries to stand up. At first she’s funny, all legs and knees, and wobbly, then she finds strength in her back legs and pushes herself up. Her front legs follow, trying to steady her, stopping her from toppling over. Suddenly, she sort of reminds me of myself, finding my way into my own new life.

Later, when we’re back in the tree house, Max shows us his sketches.

“You were, like, non-stop drawing, Max,” I say. “Did you actually see the birth?”

“Course I did, dummy,” he laughs. “It’s just that I see the world through pictures, you know, things make more sense to me when I draw them.”

“Chelsea was amazing at drawing as well. You really should get yourself tested for dyslexia, Max,” I tease. “You might even find that you do have a brain after all! A bit like the Tin Man in
The Wizard of Oz
.”

“What is it with that film, Tiff? You’re totally obsessed.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, “I guess I like the idea that everything we need is usually right under our noses. You know, Dorothy travelled all the way along the yellow brick road to ask the Wizard how to find her way home, only to be told that she just had to click her ruby slippers and believe she was there already. I think we should all start believing in ourselves more often.”

“A bit like me,” sighs Isla, “finding the courage to talk to my parents.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Please, don’t go all philosophical on me.”

Just then Max’s mum pops her head through the trap door. “Wasn’t it amazing? The foal’s doing well but it looks like Midnight’s in a spot of trouble. The vet’s on her way, so can you get yourself some supper Max? I’ll be busy for a while.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” sighs Max. And I know he’s wishing he were the foal or Midnight so his mum would spare some time for him. “What are we gonna call her, Mum?” he says.

“Mmmmm, not sure, does anyone have any ideas?”

“Well,” I say, “as it’s Valentine’s Day, I was thinking of Cupid or Romeo, but neither would really work for a girl.”

“I like Sweetheart or Valentina” says Isla.

“What about you, Max, any ideas?”

Max smiles and taps his sketchbook with his pencil.

“You see, if you thought in pictures like me, you’d have seen that her name was right under your nose all along. Look at the white blaze on her forehead, it’s exactly the same shape as a rosebud.”

Then he tears two pages of sketches out of his book and gives one to Isla and one to me. Mine has loads of tiny sketches of Midnight and the foal to add to my
wall, and Isla’s has loads of drawings of her surrounded by rosebuds and the cartoon hearts.

“Her name’s Rosebud,” he says. And we all agree.

i eat my cake in little nibbles…

I
ndigo and I always race home from school, and guess what? She always wins. Except today is different. We’ve had these freak snowstorms and the whole island is kneedeep in snow. It’s all right for tractors because they can plough through it without any trouble, but for us it means we have to slip and slide and crunch our way home. Max is busy making massive snowballs and keeps trying to drop them down the back of my coat. I get my own back by sending a big one flying through the air that lands on his head. His red cheeks are dripping with tiny bits of ice, and snowflakes flutter and dance on his eyelashes and hair.

“Got you,” I squeal.

He slides towards me with a handful of frosty flakes that’s heading for my face.

“And I got you back,” he cheers, covering me in snow.

“Glet’s make snow gangels,” says Indigo. And we all collapse on the floor laughing and giggling and making angel wings in the snow with our arms.

When Indigo and I get home, Uncle Dan is waiting for us with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, thick slices of honey cake, a roaring fire and a white envelope for me.

My heart leaps about in my chest. I know it’s from my mum because of the stamp on the front that says HMP Henmoore. And I know that the rest of my life will be changed by the words she’s written inside. If she says we have to go back to London it means that I’ll have to leave my new family and my friends and, worst of all, Stardust behind, and that doesn’t even feel possible right now. I suppose at least I’d have Chelsea and my old school back, but London life actually seems boring compared to here. But if my mum says we can stay here
on Sark, forever…Well, I’ll burst with excitement and squeal for joy.

I eat my cake in little nibbles to make it last longer and sip my drink in long, slow sips. The letter keeps winking at me, waiting to be opened, waiting for me to discover what my future will be.

“Go on,” encourages Uncle Dan. “You won’t know until you open it,” he says.

“I’m scared,” I say. “What will I do if she says we can’t stay?”

“Well, you won’t know until you open it, will you? You might not even have to worry about it. Go on.”

So I pick up the envelope and slowly open it.

Hi, babe,

I hope you and Indigo are enjoying all the snow. I’ve seen it on telly and it looks amazing. Remember to wrap up warm so you don’t catch any nasty chills.

I’m having second thoughts about London, Tiff. I know you say you’re missing it and I’m sure you must be missing Chelsea loads, but I’m not so sure that moving back is such a good idea. I hope you won’t be too disappointed.

I have had this brilliant idea, though, I hope you like it. Anyway, here goes. I get released from here on March 6th, only twelve days to go. Yay! And I was thinking that I could come straight over and start working in the hotel kitchen. You know, we could try it out, no promises to stay forever, but it would be a good place to start. I’ve told my cookery teacher my brilliant plan and she’s got me going on all the special sauces and types of hotel food, so I’ll be well prepared when I arrive. Show this letter to Auntie Cass and Uncle Dan and write back soon to let me know what you all think. I’m so excited; I hope you all say yes! And tell them to say no to Mandy, she’s not a good idea.

And you’re right, Tiff, I did hurt a lot of people, but they loved me once and I hope they’ll be prepared to give me a second chance. I’ll have to work hard to earn their respect, but this prison experience has changed me, Tiff, for the better. You’ll see when I get home. I’m so nervous and excited all at once, I can’t stop dancing about. The girls all think I’ve gone crazy – nothing new there then!

I love you millions and millions and more and more.

You and me, babe. You and me.

Love Mama xxx

P.S. There’s nothing much to know about your dad, Tiff, except that he was the love of my life. He did a runner before you were born, and I haven’t heard from him since.

P.P.S. His name’s Billy.

The smile that’s spreading its way across my face and lighting me up like a lighthouse tells Uncle Dan everything he needs to know.

“Brilliant news, Tiff?” he asks.

“Brilliant news!” I smile.

Auntie Cass comes in from the snow, throws off her boots at the door and tumbles into the sitting room.

“So?” she asks. “What did she say? Please tell me she said yes.”

“She said yes,” I smile. “She said yes and she’ll actually be home in twelve days.”

Auntie Cass is almost more excited than me. She dances Indigo around the room, gives Uncle Dan a big wet kiss on the lips and hugs me tight.

“I never want to lose you, Tiff, I’m the happiest woman alive.”

And I’m the happiest girl alive. Except for one thing: Holly. She’s still hassling me now that we’re back at school, making comments and blackmailing me to do her homework. But I don’t even care about her right now. I run out to Stardust to tell her my good news and run up to my bedroom to write a speedy reply to Mum. This letter is easy. I draw a big pink heart on the page and in the middle write “YES” using my special silver pen. I stuff the letter in an envelope, quickly finish off Holly’s homework, then swish my icy way to the post box. I still feel weird addressing a letter to my mum in prison, but hopefully this will be the last time. Sometimes, in the pit of my stomach, I still feel like it’s me that’s done something wrong, like it’s me who should be feeling guilty.

I slide over to Max’s tree house wishing I could spill my news, wishing I could tell him that my brilliant plan to get my mum to live here has worked. But I can’t because nobody knows about what’s happening with my mum, except Holly of course. I squish my happy, excited sparkles into my heart and I wonder if you can see them glowing from the outside.

“Hi Max,” I say, peeping my head through the trap door. “Anyone at home?”

“I’m here,” he says, “and so’s Isla.”

I climb up into the tree house. Isla’s face turns bright red and Max jumps up and starts busying himself with his insect collection. I suddenly feel a bit awkward but I don’t know why.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I say.

“Er, no,” says Isla, looking more like a tomato every minute. “I just popped over ’cause I left my jumper here at the weekend.”

Everyone goes quiet. Max starts cleaning out his stick insects and Isla starts gazing at him, like she’s suddenly superly interested in what he’s doing. Her eyes go all misty and dreamy and take on that faraway look that my mum gets when she’s watching a romantic film. My mind suddenly makes the connection. Max and Isla! Never! This is too weird for words.

“I had a letter from my mum today,” I say to break the spell. “She’s finishing her job and coming over to Sark in twelve days time. She says we can stay here, on the island. I won’t have to go back to London, ever. I’m so excited.”

And the three of us jump up and down and dance around like crazy people until Max’s mum comes to tell us to be quiet, because she can hear us from the field.

D.O.N.T…

M
y mum arrives on Sark in three days’ time and I’m actually really starting to panic. I’ve kind of got used to not having her around and used to asking Auntie Cass and Uncle Dan if I need help with anything, or if I can go out with my friends and stuff like that. And I’m worried that when my mum gets back everything’s just going to feel all confusing again. When my mum knows that I have a routine and I go up to bed at nine and read for half an hour, she’s just going to burst out laughing at me. She’ll think it’s a ridiculous thing to do because she’ll want me to stay up late and keep her company and have fun watching movies and eating
snacks. Then I’m going to be stuck not knowing what to do, or who to please. And I really hope that she’s not going to be embarrassing all the time and all loud and attention-seeking, like she was in London. I feel really guilty feeling like this, but I like my new life and although I miss her and want her to come home, in some ways it would be much easier if she could just stay where she is and not interfere.

For some reason we all decide it’s a good idea to have a grand clean up before Mum comes home. Everyone’s a bit nervous and edgy and we find that keeping busy helps to calm us all down. We start on the downstairs and move our way up like a big cleaning machine, dusting, Hoovering, washing and straightening. Uncle Dan finds a spare mattress in the hotel storeroom and we put it in my room for Mum. The barn’s not quite finished, so she’ll have to share with me for a few weeks, until it’s ready for us to move in.

Me and Indigo head out into the field and we give Stardust and Cupcake their very own pony makeovers. We brush them until they’re gleaming and smooth, make loads of little plaits all along their manes, and brush their forelocks straight and long. We pick up all the
poo in sight and make sure there’s no rubbish in the field.

When we’re finished I go inside, run up to the bathroom and lock myself in. I stare in the mirror and a worried-looking girl stares right back at me. It’s easy to make the house and the ponies and the field look smart and clean, but what about me? What will my mum think of me being all covered in mud all the time, with grubby nails and scruffy hair?
Look at you
, says my reflection in the mirror,
you’re a state. Your hair’s grown all wonky and your face always seems to have either mud or cake crumbs all over it. And your clothes, just look at them; you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. What will your mum say? You’re a mess Tiffany Morris and there’s no getting away from it.

“Shut up,” I shout at my reflection, “shut up, shut up, shut up, it doesn’t matter, none of that stuff matters any more. I’m tired of keeping her happy all the time. I need to keep myself happy too and say what I want for my life sometimes, like Isla needs to. And anyway, I like being like this. I like being muddy and cakey and tangly. And I don’t even care what you say.”

Do.

“Don’t.”

Do, do, do.

“I don’t,” I shout. “Do you get it? D. O. N. T. spells DON’T! And if she gets in a mood then it’s her problem, not mine.”