Read Online The Facts of Life and Death by Belinda Bauer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Belinda Bauer
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watches a man with a tin opener. She knew from school that it was always the daddies that left, and her tummy squeezed like a fist every time he reached for his keys.
Sometimes he took his fishing rod, but he didn’t bring home any fish, and when they drove up the hill in the morning, empty cider cans rolled backwards from under the driver’s seat.
At school Ruby huddled on the dry strip under the overhanging roof and watched the other children mob Shawn Loosemore, who had stroked a seal on Westward Ho! beach, and Paul Powers, whose father had bought him a brand-new motocross bike. Ruby knew Paul from the bus. He often smelled mouldy and Ruby noticed that his school shoes were still as scuffed and peeling as ever. His dad must have spent all the money they had on that bike.
If
she
had exciting things to write about, the other kids would be nice to her the way they were to Paul. Nobody had liked him either before he got his motorbike. Now he had lots of best friends hanging off his shoulders, giving him things and begging for a playdate.
She didn’t have a motocross bike or a pony, only a cross Mummy and a silent Daddy, and who wanted to come all the way to Limeburn to see that?
The wind changed direction and the other children under the overhang shuffled off to find somewhere drier to stand until the bell rang. Ruby was too miserable to notice.
‘Why are you crying?’ demanded Essie Littlejohn.
‘Shut up,’ said Ruby. ‘I’m not.’
But Essie only tilted her head so she could look at Ruby better, and said, ‘Is it because nobody likes you?’
‘Shut up,
whore.’
Ruby didn’t know what the word meant.
But it shut Essie up.
After school Ruby cleaned the mud off Daddy’s walking boots, gouging it from the treads with a pointed stick and scraping it off the leather with a teaspoon.
On Tuesday she spent hours sorting his fish hooks into the right little plastic boxes, even though she jabbed her thumb twice – sending tingles right up to her ears, and drawing a deep-red bubble of blood that made her shiver.
On Wednesday it stopped raining long enough for her to clean the car. First she took out all the rubbish and put it in the kitchen bin. There were receipts and sweet wrappers and one of Mummy’s old earrings in the passenger-door pocket, but mostly it was empty Strongbow cans.
She had to make two trips.
Washing the car took buckets and buckets, and twice she slipped on the cobbles while trying to reach the roof and spilled freezing water all over her shoes.
Adam came out of his house and asked what she was doing.
‘Washing the car for my Daddy,’ she said, and then she bit her lip and turned away and went on washing, because she didn’t want Adam to see her crying. But he didn’t say anything else after that – just did the roof for her and helped to squeeze out the sponges.
‘Thanks,’ she sniffed, and squelched home.
Later, Ruby stuck the little hoop earring into her diary with clear tape. Underneath it she wrote carefully,
I found this treshure in my
Daddy’s car when I cleaned it for him. I also washed the outside and it took three buckets.
On Thursday she recorded
True Grit
for him off the telly. The old film, not the new one, because Daddy didn’t trust any cowboy with long hair, or who wasn’t John Wayne.
Mummy and Daddy didn’t speak except to say
Pass the butter
, and when Ruby came home, Daddy was often not there. Sometimes the car was gone, sometimes just he was. Sometimes he went out at night, even when Mummy was working. He told Ruby not to tell Mummy and she didn’t – partly because she was on his side and partly because she was ashamed to admit to anyone that Daddy would go out and leave her alone. What if she burned the house down? Ruby didn’t like the feeling it gave her – that something bad could happen and she was too small and weak to do anything to stop it.
Mummy did a lot of extra shifts, and often had to walk up the hill to catch the bus, but Ruby
Sometimes he took his fishing rod, but he didn’t bring home any fish, and when they drove up the hill in the morning, empty cider cans rolled backwards from under the driver’s seat.
At school Ruby huddled on the dry strip under the overhanging roof and watched the other children mob Shawn Loosemore, who had stroked a seal on Westward Ho! beach, and Paul Powers, whose father had bought him a brand-new motocross bike. Ruby knew Paul from the bus. He often smelled mouldy and Ruby noticed that his school shoes were still as scuffed and peeling as ever. His dad must have spent all the money they had on that bike.
If
she
had exciting things to write about, the other kids would be nice to her the way they were to Paul. Nobody had liked him either before he got his motorbike. Now he had lots of best friends hanging off his shoulders, giving him things and begging for a playdate.
She didn’t have a motocross bike or a pony, only a cross Mummy and a silent Daddy, and who wanted to come all the way to Limeburn to see that?
The wind changed direction and the other children under the overhang shuffled off to find somewhere drier to stand until the bell rang. Ruby was too miserable to notice.
‘Why are you crying?’ demanded Essie Littlejohn.
‘Shut up,’ said Ruby. ‘I’m not.’
But Essie only tilted her head so she could look at Ruby better, and said, ‘Is it because nobody likes you?’
‘Shut up,
whore.’
Ruby didn’t know what the word meant.
But it shut Essie up.
After school Ruby cleaned the mud off Daddy’s walking boots, gouging it from the treads with a pointed stick and scraping it off the leather with a teaspoon.
On Tuesday she spent hours sorting his fish hooks into the right little plastic boxes, even though she jabbed her thumb twice – sending tingles right up to her ears, and drawing a deep-red bubble of blood that made her shiver.
On Wednesday it stopped raining long enough for her to clean the car. First she took out all the rubbish and put it in the kitchen bin. There were receipts and sweet wrappers and one of Mummy’s old earrings in the passenger-door pocket, but mostly it was empty Strongbow cans.
She had to make two trips.
Washing the car took buckets and buckets, and twice she slipped on the cobbles while trying to reach the roof and spilled freezing water all over her shoes.
Adam came out of his house and asked what she was doing.
‘Washing the car for my Daddy,’ she said, and then she bit her lip and turned away and went on washing, because she didn’t want Adam to see her crying. But he didn’t say anything else after that – just did the roof for her and helped to squeeze out the sponges.
‘Thanks,’ she sniffed, and squelched home.
Later, Ruby stuck the little hoop earring into her diary with clear tape. Underneath it she wrote carefully,
I found this treshure in my
Daddy’s car when I cleaned it for him. I also washed the outside and it took three buckets.
On Thursday she recorded
True Grit
for him off the telly. The old film, not the new one, because Daddy didn’t trust any cowboy with long hair, or who wasn’t John Wayne.
Mummy and Daddy didn’t speak except to say
Pass the butter
, and when Ruby came home, Daddy was often not there. Sometimes the car was gone, sometimes just he was. Sometimes he went out at night, even when Mummy was working. He told Ruby not to tell Mummy and she didn’t – partly because she was on his side and partly because she was ashamed to admit to anyone that Daddy would go out and leave her alone. What if she burned the house down? Ruby didn’t like the feeling it gave her – that something bad could happen and she was too small and weak to do anything to stop it.
Mummy did a lot of extra shifts, and often had to walk up the hill to catch the bus, but Ruby
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