Page 68 of The Dead Ex
It was Dee who had comforted her when the social worker brought her home. Dee who sat her on her knee even though she’d been a big girl of nine then. Dee who told her that her own parents had done drugs too and how they could really mess up yourbrain. ‘Your mum loves you,’ she’d sighed. ‘She just needs time to get cleaned up.’
Her foster mother had been right. In the last couple of years, Mum had got her privileges back. This meant that Scarlet was allowed to visit more often. Mum stopped pestering her for drugs but she was still thin, and her lovely blonde hair was lank and greasy. She didn’t smell the same either. It was hard to saywhat she did smell of. But it wasn’t patchouli. Mum had laughed when she’d asked her why she didn’t wear it any more. ‘It’s not on the canteen list, love.’
When Scarlet had asked what that meant, Mum had explained that you could only buy things like shampoo or toothpaste that were on this special list that had nothing to do with a real canteen or café. But you had to havemoney to get what youwanted. Mum’s padmate had loads of money which her family sent in. But Mum only got a few quid from doing jobs in the prison like cleaning or ironing.
That’s when Scarlet started entering photos for competitions through Robert’s photographic magazines that came in the post every month. She’d won £50 for the first one. ‘Are you sure you want to give it to your mum?’ asked Dee.
Of course she was!
‘I don’t know if it’s allowed, love.’
So she’d asked the social worker, who ‘made enquiries’ and found out that they could pay it into a special account which the prison would then give to Mum to spend on canteen items. When Scarlet visited next, Mum immediately asked if she’d won any more competitions. ‘Not yet, but Robert says I show promise …’
Mum’s eyes had narrowed. ‘I can’t buy my fagson promise. You’d better get snapping, my girl. Don’t you want to help me?’
It was almost, Scarlet told herself, as if prison was making her mother into a different person. Someone who was harder and even selfish at times. Then Mum would go the other way, especially at Christmas and birthdays, when she’d cry down the phone and say she wished she could afford to send her nice things instead ofthe crappy purple felt handbag she’d made in the prison craft class.
‘I don’t want any presents,’ Scarlet would say. ‘I just want you.’
That made them both cry even more.
At school, Scarlet put on a brave front, just like Mum told her. When the other kids had boasted about whatthey’d done in the Christmas holidays and how they’d been to visit grandparents, she just kept quiet. When she gothome, she’d go straight up to her room and talk to Mum’s picture: the same one that Robert had mended, which she now kept next to her bed because it was safer. ‘It won’t be for ever,’ she would say. And the little girl in the red spotty dress seemed to understand.
But gradually Mum had started to be more cheerful. ‘Not long now, if my parole goes well.’ Then she’d rub her eyes with her hands.‘I could have been out of this sodding place if I hadn’t started using again.’
‘Using what?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry, love. I really am.’
Scarlet wondered if it had something to do with the big woman with the red heart tattoos on her neck who always sat near them in the visiting hall, waiting for family who never turned up. On one terrible day, the woman had thrown a cup of coffeeat them. It had only just missed.
‘Bastard!’ Mum had screamed. ‘Try hurting my little girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.’ Two officers came racing up, taking her and the coffee woman by the arms. ‘Let me stay with my daughter,’ Mum had yelled, kicking and fighting as they tried to take her out of the room. Furiously, she spat at one of the guards. ‘It’s bad enough that the bitch cut back ourvisits. You lot are supposed to help families stay together – not divide a mother and her child. How are we meant to have a proper relationship?’
The social worker – a new one – who had brought Scarlet back from the prison that day and had stayed for a cuppa, shook her head. ‘Shocking. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Scarlet was so upset that she began to get her old nightmares all over again.‘Shhh,’ soothed Dee, who would come into her room when this happened and hold her against her shoulder, patting her back. It was so comforting. ‘I’ve always wanted a daughter like you,’ she murmured. If Scarlet closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was a child again and that it was Mum who was soothing her instead. Yet in the morning, Scarlet would always feel guilty. It was Mum whowas her real mum. Then she’d go really quiet and not want to talk to Dee.
‘Would you like me to go with you to the prison next time?’ offered Dee during one of their better days. ‘It might help her to know you’re safe with us. I could tell her how well you’re doing.’
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But as soon as they got to the room called ‘Domestic Visits’, her mother’s jaw setas she took in Dee. It probably didn’t help that Dee had had her hand on her shoulder, the way she sometimes did to give her courage. Scarlet moved away but it was too late. Mum had seen.
‘Hello.’ Dee had what Robert called ‘my wife’s sweet angel face’ on. ‘How very nice to meet you. I thought it would be reassuring for you if I came along so you can see who your daughter is living with. She’svery happy with us. Aren’t you, love?’
Scarlet cringed. This was awful. Dee might be trying to be nice but she was making it worse. ‘It’s all right, Mum,’ she wanted to say. ‘I’d rather live with you. You do know that, don’t you?’
But that would seem rude in front of Dee!
‘I know it can’t be easy for you being in prison,’ she continued.
Stop! Mum was looking really upset. Dee was soundingall school-teachery now.
‘I can promise you that as your daughter’s foster mother, I …’
‘Shut up!’ Mum’s face had gone all blotchy red and her eyes were glittering with fury. ‘Don’t you dare use the word “mother”.I’mher mother. Do you hear me? No one else, especially not some bleeding-heart do-gooder like you.’
‘It’s all right.’ Dee’s voice was low. Gentle. The way it was when she was explainingmaths homework to Scarlet. ‘I get how you feel. It’s normal for you to feel angry. But … Ouch!’
Scarlet gasped out loud. Her mother had scratched Dee down the right side of her face. ‘Are you all right?’
