Passion Flower - Jean Ure

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food) my mobile rang. It was Mum, checking that we were still on the train and hadn’t got off at the wrong station or fallen out of the window, though as a matter of fact the windows were sealed, so that even the Afterthought couldn’t have fallen out.

      “Stephie?” said Mum. “Everything OK?” I said, “Yes, fine, Mum. The Afterthought’s eaten all her food.”

      “Well, that’s all right,” said Mum. “I’m sure your dad will get her some more. Don’t forget to give him the cheque. Tell him it’s got to last you.”

      I said, “Yes, Mum.”

      “Tell him it’s for you and Sam. For your personal spending.”

      “Yes, Mum.”

      “I don’t want him using it for himself.”

      ‘No, Mum.” We had already been through all this! Plus I had heard Mum telling Dad on the phone.

      “Oh, and Stephanie,” she said.

      “Yes, Mum?”

      “I want you to ring me when you’ve arrived.”

      “What, in London?” I said.

      “No! In Brighton. When you get to your dad’s place. All right?”

      I said, “Yes, Mum.” I thought, “Mum’s getting cold feet!” She’d gone and packed us off and now she was starting to do her mumsy thing, worrying in case something happened. I said, “We’re only going to Brighton, Mum! Not Siberia.”

      “Yes, well, just look after your sister,” said Mum.

      “I’ve got to look after you” I said to the Afterthought.

      “I don’t want to be looked after,” said the Afterthought.

      We reached London nearly ten minutes late, so I expected Dad to already be there, waiting for us. But he wasn’t! We stood at the barrier, looking all around, and he just wasn’t there.

      “Maybe he’s gone to the loo,” said the Afterthought, doing her best to sound brave.

      “Mm,” I said. “Maybe.”

      Or maybe we were looking in the wrong place. Maybe when Dad had said he’d meet us at St Pancras, he’d meant… outside. So we went and looked outside, but he wasn’t there, either, so then we went back to where the train had come in. Still no sign of Dad.

      “He must have been held up,” I said. “We’d better just wait.”

      “Ring him!” said the Afterthought. “Ring him, Stephie, now!”

      “Oh! Yes, I could, couldn’t I?” I said. I called up Dad’s number, but nothing happened. “He must have switched his phone off,” I said.

      “Why would he do that?” said the Afterthought, fretfully.

      “I don’t know! Maybe he’s… in a tunnel, or something, and it’s not working.”

      The Afterthought was already sucking her thumb and looking tearful. I thought that if Dad hadn’t arrived by four o’clock I would have to ring Mum. Ringing Mum was the last thing I wanted to do! She would instantly start fretting and fuming and saying how Dad couldn’t be trusted and she should never have let us go. She might even tell us to jump on the first train home. How could I face Vix if I ended up back in Nottingham without having gone anywhere?

      I was still dithering when my own phone rang, and there was Dad on the other end. Relief! I squealed, “Dad!” and the Afterthought immediately attempted to snatch the phone away from me. I kept her off with my elbow.

      “Stephie?” said Dad. “That you?”

      I said, “Yes, we’re at St Pancras. I tried to call you but I couldn’t get through!”

      “No, I know,” said Dad. “The thing’s stopped working, I think it needs a new battery. Now listen, honeysuckle, you’re going to have to make your own way down to Brighton. I’ve been a bit tied up, business-wise, and I couldn’t get away. I’ll meet you at Brighton, instead. OK?”

      I gulped and said, “Y-yes, I s-suppose. But I don’t know how to get there!”

      “Not to worry,” said Dad. “I’ll give you directions.”

      Dad told me that we had to turn left out of St Pancras and follow the signs to the Thameslink. Then all we had to do was get on a train that said Brighton.

      “Nothing to it! Think you can manage?”

      What I actually thought was no! But I said yes because it didn’t seem like I had any alternative. I mean, if I had said no, what was Dad supposed to do about it?

      “He could have come and fetched us,” whimpered the Afterthought.

      “That would take for ever,” I said. “Just stop being such a baby! There’s nothing to it.”

      It was, however, quite scary. There were so many people about! All going places. All in such a rush. Also, just at first I couldn’t see any signs that said Thameslink, and then when I did I couldn’t make out which road we had to go down and had to ask someone. That was quite scary in itself because St Pancras station is right next door to King’s Cross, and I had heard bad things about King’s Cross. I had heard it was where all the prostitutes were, and the drug dealers, and the child molesters. I mean, they probably didn’t come out until late at night, under cover of darkness, but you just never know. I didn’t want us being abducted! Fortunately the person I spoke to (while I held tightly on to the Afterthought’s hand in case they tried to snatch her) didn’t seem to be any of those things, but just told us which road to take and went on her way.

      I said, “Phew!” and tried to unhook myself from the Afterthought’s hand, which had become rather hot and clammy, but the Afterthought went on clutching like mad.

      “I don’t like this place!” she said.

      I said, “Neither do I, that’s why we’re getting out of it. Just come on!” And I dragged her all the way down the road until we came to the Thameslink station where an Underground man (he was wearing uniform, so I knew he was all right) told us which platform to go to. I felt quite pleased with myself. I felt quite proud! Dad had trusted me to get us on the right train, and I had. Mum wouldn’t have trusted me. She still treated me as if I were about ten years old. (Not letting me read my magazine!) Dad was prepared to treat me like I was almost grown up. He knew I could handle it. I liked that!

      Now that I had got us safely under way and hadn’t let her be abducted, the Afterthought had gone all bumptious and full of herself again. She went off to the buffet car and came back with a fizzy drink which she slurped noisily and disgustingly through a straw. It really got on my nerves. I was trying to behave like a civilised human being, for heaven’s sake! I was trying to have a bit of style. I didn’t need this underage mutant showing me up. I tried telling her to suck quietly, but she immediately started slurping worse than ever. I mean, she did it quite deliberately. Defying me.

      “Did you know,” I said, “that your teeth have gone all purple?”

      “So what?” said the Afterthought.

      “So they’ll probably stay like it… you’ll probably be stained for life!”

      I thought it might at least shut her up, but she just pulled her lips into this hideous grimace and started chittering like a monkey. Well over the top. In the end I moved to the other side of the carriage and let her get on with it. At least I didn’t have to hold her horrible sticky hand any more.

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