Desperate Measures Read online

  She leant closer.

  ‘So what’s he like? You really fancy him, don’t you?’

  ‘“Fancy”, Rosie? Fancy? Exactly who have you been hanging around with, while I’ve been away?’ I teased.

  ‘Fancy is a perfectly acceptable word – I think you’ll find the great William Shakespeare himself uses it in —’

  ‘Come on,’ I interrupted, taking her arm. ‘Let’s go and sit on the bench. I’ll tell you all about Daniel.’

  We sat down under the big oak tree and watched the younger kids chasing around like manic puppies. On the other side of the playground I saw Re and Maxine giggling happily together in the sunshine.

  ‘I want to tell you something about my dad too,’ I said. ‘It was a big secret once, but it’s not any more.’

  Chapter 51

  Vicky says the Prison Housing Adviser has arranged for Dad and us to live in a flat on the other side of town.

  ‘But I don’t want to live in a flat on the other side of town,’ I told her. ‘I want to live near Daniel in a cottage with a big garden and have chickens and pet rabbits and grow veggies with Dad.’

  ‘We can’t Re,’ she said. ‘Dad said we’re really lucky to get this flat.’

  ‘I suppose so. Maybe one day though?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. Then she smiled. ‘It would be perfect, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Except Jamie would want a pongy goat,’ I said.

  ‘No way!’ she laughed. ‘They eat all your clothes if you stand too near them!’

  ‘What about Daniel?’

  ‘He’s invited us all up to stay in the holidays,’ she said all excited.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I asked Dad on the phone last night if we can go.’

  ‘What did he say?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes . . . if we can afford it. And I’m going to make sure we can afford it. Seeing Paul and Sarah’s baby gave me an idea. Now I’m fourteen I can earn a bit of money baby-sitting.’

  ‘So we can go back to the island!’

  ‘Yes but not in that tatty boat, thanks very much . . .’ Vicky grinned at me. ‘Hey, remember when we went on pedalos at that theme park years ago? You, me and Mum in one and Dad and Jamie in the other.’

  ‘Yeah and Dad said let’s have a race.’

  ‘But we could only make our pedalo go backwards. And Dad was calling out instructions all serious but then Mum got the giggles and the more he tried to help the more she couldn’t stop laughing, so we just went round and round in circles till the man called us in . . .’

  ‘And afterwards she said it was the best boat ride she’d ever had,’ I said.

  We both laughed. Vicky and me talk about Mum a lot now. Sometimes it makes me feel sad and I cry a bit because I know she’s not ever coming home but other times it makes me feel warm inside to think about her and remember things. I know she’s dead and her body doesn’t work any more but I still think her spirit is on our island. And so does Vicky.

  Chapter 52

  It was early Saturday morning and there was a loud ring on Sandy’s doorbell.

  ‘Vicky!’ yelled Re from downstairs.

  I glanced round our bedroom checking we’d got everything, picked up our suitcase (on loan from Sandy) and headed out to the landing. Jamie came charging past me and bounded down the stairs three at a time.

  ‘He’s here!’ he shouted to no one in particular. ‘Dad’s here!’

  He flung open the door and he and Re threw themselves into Dad’s arms.

  ‘Whoa!’ Dad said, laughing as he lifted them off the ground.

  ‘All ready, Vicky?’ he asked me.

  I nodded then ran over and hugged him too.

  Sandy came up holding a large cake tin.

  ‘Had a spare half hour,’ she said, handing Re the tin. ‘Chocolate flapjacks.’

  We all thanked her, for everything, then loaded our stuff into the boot of the taxi. We said our goodbyes and Sandy promised to come round the following week for tea. We climbed into the taxi and, as it drove away, waved to Sandy until we turned the corner at the end of her street.

  After driving for about fifteen minutes, we pulled up outside a tall block of flats surrounded by other tall blocks. We unloaded our suitcase and bags as Dad paid the driver. I looked up at the concrete tower. Dad glanced at me nervously but I grinned back at him.

  ‘Relax, Dad. We wouldn’t mind living in a cardboard box as long as we could all stay together.’

  ‘Are we going to live in a box?’ asked Re.

  ‘No, we’re going to live up there,’ Dad pointed. ‘Tenth floor.’

  Jamie and Re tried to count the levels to see which was our flat.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go up.’

  Inside there was a lift and stairs. The lift was noisy and it made an odd rattling noise, which scared Re a bit so she clung on to Dad. We got out on the tenth floor and looked round. There were four flats each facing a different direction.

  ‘That’s ours,’ said Dad, indicating a tatty front door with 42 on it.

  The front door opposite to ours opened. A lady in a sari came out holding a small child tucked on her hip and a folded pushchair in the other hand. She glanced at us warily.

  ‘Hello,’ said Re. ‘We’re coming to live at number forty-two.’

  ‘Welcome,’ she said with a shy smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ I called as she disappeared into the lift.

  Dad turned the key in our new front door and pushed it open.

  ‘It’s in a bit of a state,’ he said, picking up a brown envelope from the doormat. ‘But I can do it up, bit by bit. And there’s some furniture arriving soon.’

  I looked round. Apart from a couple of suitcases and seven large cardboard boxes overflowing with saucepans, crockery, bedding and other stuff, the flat was empty. There was a little hallway, a sitting room, a kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms – a small one and an even smaller one. The people who lived here before us had liked bright orange, lurid purple and chocolate brown. A lot. Every room was decorated in a sickly mixture of those colours except for the bathroom, which was totally green – the walls, the floor, the ceiling – even the bath, toilet and sink.

  ‘If you and Re share the bigger bedroom, Jamie can have the box room and I’ll kip on the sofa, when it comes,’ said Dad.

  He explained that the prison had fixed up some training for him, restoring furniture at a local project that helped ex-offenders back into work and they were going to deliver some bits and pieces so we’d have something to sit on and sleep in. It sounded like the same project Rosie said her dad worked for when I told her all about my dad being in prison.

  ‘But I thought your dad ran some really posh antiques business,’ I’d told her. She looked at me and grinned.

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ she said.

  Jamie flung open a door in the sitting room.

  ‘Here’s the balcony!’ he called.

  We followed him out. There was only just room out there for us all. Standing forlornly in the corner were a couple of flowerpots and there was a washing line strung across the width of the opening.

  ‘No garden, I’m afraid,’ mumbled Dad.

  ‘I can see a park!’ said Jamie, looking out at the fantastic view.

  It looked like a much nicer and better kept park than the one where we used to live. There were two tennis courts, a play area, football pitches and a boating pond with a little island in the middle.

  ‘We won’t need a garden, Dad, we can go there,’ said Re.

  I looked down to the street and saw a big van pull up. Two men got out with a girl. To my surprise, she looked up and waved. I did a double take. It was Rosie!

  The men started unloading the furniture.

  ‘Let’s hope this lift doesn’t break down,’ murmured Dad as we all hurried down to help.

  ‘Rosie!’ I exclaimed when we got outside.

  ‘Thought I’d come and help out.’ She turned to the tall man. ‘Dad, this is
my friend Vicky.’

  I looked at him and pasted on a smile. I could feel my face burning bright red.

  ‘Nice to meet you. Come round sometime and pull Rosie’s nose out of those books for a bit, will you?’

  ‘Dad! Pl-ease!’ hissed Rosie, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re soooo embarrassing!’

  ‘That’s what dads are for, isn’t it?’ joked Dad.

  Rosie’s dad and the other man, Dave, laughed.

  ‘Ha ha. Very funny,’ I said, grinning at Rosie.

  Two hours later and our new flat had a sofa and two armchairs, bunk beds in Re’s and my room and a small single bed crammed into Jamie’s. We also had a fold-up table and four chairs, a wardrobe and two chests of drawers.

  After mugs of tea and lots of flapjacks, Rosie, her dad and Dave left us to it and we set about unpacking the boxes, making up the beds and sorting out our stuff.

  Mrs Frankish swooped in for her first visit later that afternoon. I felt really nervous and even Jamie was on his best behaviour. Actually, I’ve got a feeling she’s secretly rooting for us. She gave Dad a cookbook and, despite munching her way through three chocolate flapjacks, she insisted on marking all the ‘nutritionally correct’ recipes with her green fluorescent pen. Re was definitely not impressed.

  ‘I’m not eating that!’ she said, pointing to a photo labelled ‘Liver and Onion Surprise’.

  I thought Mrs Frankish would get all huffy but she just glanced at the photo, gave a small laugh and told Re she didn’t blame her.

  It was only after Mrs Frankish had left that I noticed the envelope Dad had picked up from the doormat when we first came in. It was propped on a shelf in Re’s and my bedroom, tucked behind her little china penguin – Dad must have put it there for safe keeping. It was addressed to me . . . and it was from Daniel.

  Inside was the photo Great Auntie Irene had taken of Dad, Mum, Rhianna, Jamie and me by the lake. So this was what Daniel had found at the cave. I grinned. He’d managed to rescue the one thing that was most precious to us all, and apart from a small tear along one edge it was undamaged. I gently traced my finger over Mum’s smiling face. ‘It’s never going to be the same without you,’ I thought.

  But deep inside I had the amazing feeling that a whole new chapter in my life was just beginning. And no matter what happened, as long as Re, Dad, Jamie and I were together, everything was going to be all right.