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Authors: Suzi Moore

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BOOK: Tiger Moth
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‘Yes, but she’s their real baby and I’m just . . .’ My voice trailed away and I rubbed the tears from my eyes.

‘She’s a real baby and you’re just? Just what? Just stopped talking until now,’ he said, laughing. ‘Come on, let’s walk quicker. I’m getting
cold.’

And that’s when I started to feel a bit scared again. How was I going to be able to sneak back in without being seen? I’d only ever snuck back into the garden through the door, and I
felt my stomach twist up, and my wet clothes felt cold and uncomfortable. My legs felt heavy and tired as though they were full of seawater, but Zack was walking almost two paces faster than
me.

‘Come on then, chatterbox, we can go back to mine so you can dry off or something.’

I followed him along the top of the stony beach until we reached the harbour wall then I remembered that I’d left my bag at Culver Cove.

‘My bag!’ I shouted. ‘We have to get it!’

‘Well, not sure that’s a great idea. One almost-drowned Alice is kind of enough for me for one day,’ he said, laughing. But when he saw my sad face he stopped smiling and said
in a kind voice, ‘Don’t worry, Alice. We can go back for it tomorrow. It’s just a bag.’

But it wasn’t just a bag. It had my notebook with the photograph of my other mother tucked inside it. I started to cry.

‘But it’ll get ruined!’ I said, sobbing.

‘It’s just a bag, Alice. Don’t worry.’

‘It’s not just a bag,’ I cried. ‘It’s not just a bag! My notebook! My photograph!’

I looked up at Zack as the tears rolled down my cheeks. At first he sort of chewed his lip and seemed worried, but then he put an arm round my shoulder and said, ‘Don’t worry. We can
get it back tomorrow, I promise.’

He helped me climb over the wall and as Zack lifted me down on to the path I decided that he was probably the bestest and most brilliant boy in the whole wide world.

Zack’s cottage was really pretty. It was just how I imagined it would be, and as I walked up the stairs to the bathroom I hoped that I’d get to come again when I was less wet, soggy
and scared.

‘Here,’ he said, handing me an old-looking T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

The bathroom was tiny, but I loved the little round window above the sink that looked out to sea. I pulled on the dry clothes and looked down at the T-shirt he’d given me. It had a picture
of a little yellow plane flying over an island and I remembered what Zack had said about his dad.

As soon as I was changed, I felt better, but as I left the bathroom I noticed a large frame on the wall. It was a picture that was made up of lots and lots of photographs. There was Zack with
his dad standing by the little yellow plane. There he was jumping off the back of a big sailing ship with his dad. So many photos of them together: skateboarding, fishing, slurping a milkshake,
pulling silly faces, playing football. Who would Zack do all of that with now? There was Zack in a funny-looking school uniform, blowing the candles out on his birthday cake, being held as a tiny
baby. His dad was in every single picture. Then I noticed one of the dog that Zack had told me all about. Where was it now? I couldn’t remember what Zack had said. I stood closer to get a
better look and then Zack popped his head round the door.

‘What’s taking you so long?’ he said, but when he saw me looking at the photographs he stopped looking so impatient and sighed. ‘That’s Otter. He was my dog.
Remember I told you about him?’ he said, looking sad again.

‘Did he die too?’

Zack suddenly looked at me as though I was stupid. ‘No, yer div. He’s not dead. It’s just that Mum reckoned that he should live with some of our friends for a bit. You
can’t leave Otter on his own for five minutes, and me and Mum are gonna be out loads, so he has to stay with some friends till whenever.’

I must have looked a bit shocked so he carried on. ‘We just, like, can’t look after him right now. Mum says that when I’m at school and she’s at work he’d be alone,
and it’s not fair to have him shut inside all day all by himself. Actually, I heard her on the telephone one night. She said she thinks it would be better if he always stays at our
friend’s house though, like a dog adoption thingy.’

He looked really sad when he said that bit and I felt strange too. I wasn’t really listening when he showed me his room. I didn’t hear what he said when we walked back downstairs,
but when he handed me a glass of water I looked up at him and said, ‘Do you miss him? Do you want to go back and get him?’

‘Of course. Every day. But sometimes I think Mum might be right because who would keep Otter happy when I’m at school? He’d have to be stuck in this tiny place all day and that
would suck.’

I couldn’t make out most of what Zack said after that because he was eating a banana at the time and he kept spreading peanut butter on it which I thought was gross.

‘You want some?’ he said when he saw me looking, but I just pulled a face. ‘It’s good. My dad’s favourite thing. It gives you loads of energy too. Here,’ he
said, holding out a piece of peanutty banana. I slowly put it in my mouth and chewed, but I quickly spat it out.

‘Ha!’ laughed Zack. ‘You either love it or you hate it.’ And when he spied the chewed-up food that had landed on his foot he laughed again. ‘Er, Alice, I do like
you and everything, but do you think you could stop spitting up on me?’

We both laughed. ‘Actually, that was the other really great thing about Otter. If he was here now, he’d have woofed that chewed-up bit of banana down. Four-legged dustbin,
that’s what my mum calls him.’

I smiled up at him and I felt even better when Zack said he’d help me sneak back home without being caught.

‘Can you draw me a map of your place?’ he asked, handing me a clean white sheet of paper. I carefully drew the house, the garden and the lane to the village. He took it from my hands
and examined it closely.

‘And your dad will still be at work?’

I looked up at the kitchen clock, four twenty exactly, and I nodded quickly.

‘Right,’ he said, licking the last of the peanut butter off his fingers. ‘This is gonna be easy, but you’re gonna have to be quick. Go round this side of the house, but
duck down behind the wall. That way you won’t be seen and you can sneak back in through the side door.’ He pointed at the door near our laundry room. ‘Well, that’s what
I’d do anyway. And when you get inside you can get back to your room up the spiral staircase, can’t you?’

I smiled. Zack was clever.

As the two of us left the cottage, I spied his skateboard.

‘Will you teach me how to do that one time?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said and we ran over the little stone bridge, past the post office and up the hill. Pippa from the post office shouted after us, but Zack just grabbed my hand and we
ran even faster past the churchyard, turning left at the top of the hill on to the little lane to Culver.

‘How much further?’ Zack said, sounding worried when the lane got narrower and narrower.

‘There,’ I said, pointing to the top of the hill and the shiny black and gold gates that were just ahead of us.

‘This is where you live?’ he sort of whispered, looking up at the gates and tracing his finger over the large letters C and M.

‘Yes, I’ve only ever lived here,’ I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

‘My old school had gates a bit like this,’ he said, gripping the bars with his hands and resting his cheek on the cold metal. He didn’t say else anything for a while and I
watched him just stare down the tree-lined driveway where you can see the side of the house and the top of the rose garden wall.

I guess I’d never really stood looking at my home from the gate before. I’d only ever looked from inside out, and it felt kind of strange to be on the outside looking in. It felt
sort of horrid and it was a feeling I’d had before. I thought about my sister in the house with my mum, snuggled on the big magical bed, and suddenly it felt peculiar to be outside the gates.
The two of us stared like that for a bit when suddenly I heard a car noise. My dad! We ran in through the gates, hid behind the first large oak tree and watched in horror as the car disappeared
down the driveway towards the house.

‘What do I do now, Zack?’ I said, feeling the panic in my new speaking voice.

‘You’re just gonna have to be mega-quick now. Leg it!’

I watched as the car came to a halt by the garages, but before I turned to run I whispered, ‘You mustn’t ever tell, Zack, promise?’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ he said, grinning, and with that I turned and ran.

22
Alice

I ran faster than my little legs have ever run, and when I got to the side of the house I turned back and saw Zack duck out from behind the tree and race back through the
gates, so I followed the plan. Crouching down under the windows, I crawled round the house until I reached the stone terrace at the back; now all I had to do was get across it to the side door by
the laundry room. Then I heard the sound of Dad’s voice. Was he in the garden? If he was, he’d find me before I got inside, before I had a chance to change out of the very big and baggy
boy clothes.

‘Alice! Alice!’

I heard Dad’s voice getting closer and closer and the sound of his shoes crunching on the gravel. I just had to get across the terrace before he saw me.
Crunch, crunch, crunch
. I
peeped out to look and saw him walking up the lawn towards me. He was going to see me, and I felt my heart beat faster and faster, so I did what Zack had told me to do and slid down the wall behind
the hedge slowly, slowly, until my whole body was hidden.

‘Alice! Where are you?’ I could hear his shoes on the stone steps to the terrace:
tip tap toe
; he was getting nearer and nearer, and the sound of my heartbeat throbbed in my
ears. I heard him get closer and closer until I saw his feet were about a metre from my face. He tapped his right foot, turned left and headed off back in the opposite direction, away from me, up
the garden path. I let out the breath I’d been holding in.

As soon as he was out of sight, I scampered along the terrace to the side door and I think I must have thrown myself at the door because it flung open and I went flying across the red tiled
floor of the laundry room. I lay still for a second to be sure I couldn’t hear the sound of my mum or my sister with no name. The tiles were cool on my face and my heartbeat slowed, and then
I felt myself smiling again. I had made it! I just had time to grab some of my clothes from the pile of washing and get changed, hiding Zack’s clothes in the plastic shopping bag and stuffing
the bag in the bottom cupboard with all the washing powders.

I slowly walked back into the kitchen and waited. Nothing. Not a single sound, so I grabbed a red apple from the fruit bowl and headed upstairs, feeling very pleased with myself indeed.

With each step, I wondered what I would say to them, now that I could talk again. What should I say first? But when I got to the top of the stairs Mum was sitting at the middle window with the
baby and it was, like, stuck to her. She was still wearing her long white nightdress and her hair was piled on top of her head in a large golden bun. I stood watching for a moment; her eyes were
closed and the baby, the thing, was sort of sucking on her. As I crept past her, she opened her eyes and smiled at me, but I didn’t and I didn’t say anything either.

‘Alice?’ I heard her say as I neared my bedroom. ‘Alice? Come here. Would you like to try and hold your little sister? She really wants you to.’

I turned back and for a second I was going to say yes. I opened my mouth to speak, but then Mum rubbed the baby’s back like she used to do when I was poorly.

‘I’m just trying to get her wind up, Alice. Little babies need you to help them. Would you like to try?’

But I didn’t want to. I went into my bedroom and I thought about how happy my mum had looked holding my little sister. I wondered if I ever lay on my other mother’s chest like that.
Did she hold me at all before I was taken away? As I sat down on the bed, a feeling came over me, around me, above me, until it was as though I was slipping under the water again. I thought about
the photograph that I’d left on the beach in my notebook, and for some reason I decided I didn’t want it back. For some reason I just wanted to lie down on the bed and close my eyes
until the horrid feeling went away.

Mum didn’t come down for supper that night because she was too tired. I sat at the kitchen table silently as Dad cooked me some dinner and he told me that my little
sister has a thing called colic. He told me colic was when babies get air stuck in their tummies and it can really hurt. He said it made it hard for them to fall asleep and for a moment I felt
sorry for the little baby with no name. I felt bad that I hadn’t tried to help Mum when she’d asked me. I thought of how Zack had scratched his arms on the harbour wall as he helped me
on to the path, and how he hadn’t grumbled about it at all. Something felt really wrong. It was as though I knew I needed to do something important, but I couldn’t remember what it
was.

‘You were quite the opposite, Alice,’ Dad said suddenly, snapping me out of my miserable thoughts. ‘You’d sleep anywhere we took you. Sometimes you were so quiet that Mum
and I had to keep checking on you to make sure you were still breathing. The first time we went to Pengarden you slept nearly all the way there and it was Florence, not you, that woke everyone in
the castle up every night.’

I loved stories about me as a baby. I sat silently smiling up at him when he told me how they used to call me the Sleeping Beauty Baby. Not like my little sister at all. Who started screaming
and crying again at that exact moment and she didn’t stop for AGES. Dad told me all about his day at the hospital and the little boy who had stuck playdough up his nose so that he had two
enormous green and red nostrils. That almost made me laugh. As he put the plates of food on the table, Dad looked over at my miserable face, reached out his hand and stroked my cheek.

‘I hate to see you looking so sad,’ he said and I stared down at my plate. ‘Alice, I think that you’re going to be a brilliant big sister. I think that it would be
amazing if you helped Mum and me choose a name for her. What do you think?’

BOOK: Tiger Moth
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