Lemonade Sky

Tizz bit her lip. She knew what I was thinking. Her Upstairs was a busybody at the best of times. She’d immediately want to know what was going on and why it was we were looking for Mum.

Tizz turned, reluctantly, and came back into the room. “She could just have gone up the shops.”

“She wouldn’t go without telling us.”

“She might. Let’s get dressed and go up there!”

Mum wasn’t up the shops. Well, shop, actually. There’s only the one she’d go to and that was the newsagent on the corner, where sometimes she’d send us for the odd carton of milk or loaf of bread if we ran out. But she wasn’t in there and after what had happened last time we knew better than to ask if anyone had seen her. If Mum had gone missing, we mustn’t let on. We left the shop, quickly, before we could draw attention to ourselves.

“She might have wanted something they didn’t have and gone on to Tesco” said Tizz.

“It’s Sunday,” I said. “Tesco wouldn’t have been open yet.”

Tizz said, “No, but you know what Mum’s like. She doesn’t always remember which day it is.”

I didn’t say anything to that. Tizz was just clutching at straws. She knew Mum hadn’t gone to Tesco.

Sammy was growing more and more agitated. She kept tugging at my sleeve and going, “Ruby, ask! Ask, Ruby!”

I hesitated. Mr and Mrs Petrides, who own the shop, aren’t as nosy as Her Upstairs. Maybe we could try asking if Mum had been in.

Tizz said, “No!” She obviously knew what I was thinking. “We don’t tell anybody.”

“Why not?” wailed Sammy. “Why can’t we?”

“Because we can’t,” I said. “Let’s just go home.”

We trailed back up the road, and down the basement steps. I think both me and Tizz were hoping that Mum might have come back while we were out, but there still wasn’t any sign of her. Sammy was starting to grizzle and complain that she was hungry. I tried to be patient with her cos I realised she was probably getting a bit frightened. Mum hadn’t just gone out, she simply wasn’t there.

It was Tizz, with her sharp eyes, who noticed the red light blinking on the telephone.

“There’s a message!”

She swooped on it. Immediately, Mum’s voice came swirling into the room.

“Darlings, darlings! Love you, darlings! Thinking of you! Always thinking of you! Don’t worry, my darlings! We’ll have lemonade sky! Lemonade sky! I promise you, poppets! That’s what we’ll have! Lemonade sky! Oh, darlings, such fun! Such fun it will be! Kissy kissy, mwah, mwah! Love you, darlings! Love you to bits! Always, always! Take care, my precious angels! Mummy loves you! Lemonade sky, don’t forget!”

My heart sank as I listened. This was how it had been before. Mum talking at a hundred miles an hour, not making any sense. I could remember her taking us to school, pushing Sammy in her buggy, calling after us as we went through the gates, “Love you, darlings! Love you, love you!” All the other kids had turned to look, and me and Tizz had been embarrassed. Then when school let out that afternoon Mum hadn’t been there, and we’d had to make our own way home. We’d found her whirling round the room, with Sammy in her arms, both of them made up with bright red lipstick and green eye shadow. She was whirling so fast that Sammy was growing scared and was starting to cry. We were quite scared, too. We’d begged and begged Mum to stop, but it seemed like she couldn’t. In the end she’d let us take Sammy and we’d shut ourselves in our bedroom, not knowing what to do. Hours later, when we’d crept back out, Mum had disappeared. Now it was happening all over again.

Me and Tizz stood, helplessly, looking at each other.

“Was that Mum talking?” said Sammy.

I said, “Yes, that was Mum.”

“Why’s she sound all funny?”

“She’s just being happy,” said Tizz.

“’bout what?”

“I don’t know! Cos she’s enjoying herself.”

“Sounds like she was in a club,” I said. “All that noise in the background.”

“So when did she ring?”

“Dunno.” I pressed the red button on the phone. We listened again to Mum’s voice, spilling excitedly into the room.

“Take care, my precious angels! Mummy loves you! Lemonade sky, don’t forget!”

“What’s lemonade pie?” said Sammy.

“Sky,” said Tizz. “Just be quiet!”

The mechanical answerphone voice took over to tell us that that was the final message: “Sunday, 2.15 am.”

“Oh,” I said. “I thought I heard the phone ring!”

“So why didn’t you answer it?” screamed Tizz.

“Cos I fell asleep again. Anyway, I thought Mum was here. I thought she’d answer it.”

“Is it something to eat?” said Sammy.

We both turned on her. “Is what something to eat?”

“Lemonade pie.”

“Sky,” said Tizz. “Sky, sky, sky!”

“What’s lemonade sky?”

“How should I know?” Tizz sounded exasperated. “Let’s ring her back!”

We tried, but all we got was voice-mail. Either Mum had switched her phone off, or, most likely, she had run out of credit. She was always forgetting to top up.

“Maybe it’s a treat,” said Sammy. She looked at us, hopefully. “Mum’s gone out to buy us a treat! For my birthday,” she added. “It could be my birthday present!”

I said, “Maybe. Who knows?”

“Cos next week,” said Sammy, “I’m going to be six.”

“You are,” I said. “It’s a big age.”

“When will she come back with it?”

“Soon,” I said. It had been ten days, last time. Mum had been away for ten whole days! But she had come back. That was what we had to hold on to. Plus she had rung and left a message. She hadn’t done that last time.