B is for Bella (Sixpenny Cross Book 2) Read online

  “Mum! Wake up, I’m hungry! Can I go and buy some bread?”

  Her mother slowly opened her eyes and groped for the cigarettes next to the overflowing ashtray. Coughing, she pulled one out of the pack and stuck it between her lips, reaching for the matchbox with a shaking hand.

  “I need money to buy some food,” said Christine.

  “Do you think I’m made of money? For gawd’s sake, we ain’t got any, and that’s that. You can blame your stinking father for leaving us.”

  She blew a smoke ring into the air and closed her eyes. As Christine left the room, she heard the glug of liquid being poured into a glass. Her mother was on the sherry again, and there was no point talking to her when she was drunk.

  Christine’s stomach growled again.

  I’ll just have to do what I usually do. Steal some food.

  It was easy really. Nobody in the village of Sixpenny Cross locked their back doors. All Christine had to do was watch and wait until a kitchen was empty, then she’d sneak in and help herself to whatever was on the table or in the fridge.

  She almost drooled at the memory of the pie she had stolen from the pub pantry, and the freshly baked scones she’d snatched from the policeman’s house. Haha! Very satisfying stealing from the police. And it was very funny when the policeman’s wife blamed first her husband, and then blamed Stan, their grown up son.

  Christine knew where she was guaranteed to find food.

  Bella Tait’s house! Mrs Tait is always cooking that Italian stuff for Fat Belly Bella and ’er dad. No wonder Bella’s so fat! Why, I’d be doing her a favour if I stole some of Bella’s food!

  The row of terraced cottages that Bella lived in backed onto fields. Hugging the hedges, Christine made her way towards Bella’s cottage, then hopped over the low fence. Success. She entered the backyard, crept past Donald’s shed and up to the kitchen window. Even before she peeped inside, the delicious cooking smells made her stomach flip.

  The kitchen was brightly lit, and June Tait hummed to herself as she drained spaghetti. She gave the sauce a final stir with a wooden spoon. Steam and the scent of herbs and tomatoes filled the little kitchen.

  “Don, Bella, tea’s ready! Sit up, I’m bringing it in.”

  She heaped steaming spaghetti onto three plates, then spooned the sauce over.

  “Tut, tut, I’ve made too much again,” she muttered and carried the laden tray out of the kitchen to her waiting family.

  Christine quietly opened the back door and let herself in. There was plenty of spaghetti and sauce left. All she had to do was help herself. Quickly. She grabbed a bowl from the side and began ladling spaghetti.

  “Christine?”

  Christine spun round, hunger gnawing at her insides, furious at being caught.

  Bella’s eyes flicked from Christine to the food.

  “Here,” she whispered, “use this plastic bowl, it won’t be missed. Take as much as you like, but hurry up!”

  “Bella, did you find the parmesan?” June’s voice sailed in from the next room. “It’s just on the side.”

  “Got it!”

  Bella and Christine evacuated the kitchen at the same time, Bella with the parmesan, Christine with her spoils. She closed the back door quietly behind her.

  As she sat in the bus shelter, using her fingers to devour the delicious food, she seethed with embarrassment. She was mortified that Bella, of all people, had not only caught her stealing, but had given her food.

  Who did that fat Bella think she was? Miss ’igh and Mighty would probably snitch on her, tell her parents, which meant another visit from that stupid policeman.

  But Bella didn’t breathe a word about Christine’s clandestine visit to her parents, or anybody else.

  Was Christine grateful?

  She was not.

  Instead, the humiliation of being discovered by Bella festered in her soul. If she disliked Bella before, she hated her now.

  Why should Bella have everything? It’s so unfair!

  “I’m going to teach that fat lump a lesson,” she vowed.

  bbbbb

  “Miss, my mum put a piece of chocolate cake in my satchel, and now it’s gone. I saw Bella eating chocolate cake at break time, I bet she was eating mine.”

  The teacher looked at Christine in surprise.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yes, Miss, quite sure.”

  “Bella, come here a minute,” called the teacher, beckoning to Bella who was busily working at her desk. “Did you take some cake out of Christine’s satchel?”

  Bella’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. She stared at Christine, who refused to make eye contact. There was a long pause before she spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Miss. I’m sorry, Christine. I shouldn’t have taken it, and I won’t do it again.”

  If Bella thought she was doing Christine a favour, she was mistaken. Christine ground her teeth and redoubled her efforts to make Bella’s life difficult.

  If Bella’s homework was lost, or her pencils broken, or her work messy, Christine was usually responsible. But Bella never retaliated or complained.

  bbbbb

  England went crazy when their team won the football World Cup in 1966. That year the Beatles released their album, Revolver, and both Bella and Christine celebrated their eleventh birthdays. It was time to move on from the homely environment of Sixpenny Cross village school.

  Bella had done well. The teachers were kind, and the classes small, so Bella felt secure. She didn’t make friends easily, but that didn’t concern her. She was content with just her father, mother and her pets.

  Next term she’d catch the bus to Yewbridge High School, with the other Sixpenny Cross kids. But today had been the last day at the village school and she bid her sad farewells.

  “Goodbye, Bella,” said her teacher, handing over her end of term report. “Good luck at Yewbridge High.”

  “I’m so proud of you, la mia bella Bella,” said her father when he read the report. “With results like these, you’ll be accepted into a university to train as a vet one day.”

  Bella radiated happiness.

  That evening, June served one of Bella’s favourite dishes, homemade ravioli, as a treat to celebrate her school report. Bella had three helpings.

  In the council house on Springfield Road, Christine tore open the brown envelope containing her school report. She scowled as she read it.

  Huh! It was her worst report yet, but it didn’t matter. Her mother would never think to ask for it, so she’d never see it. Christine was accustomed to forging her mother’s signature. No problem.

  bbbbb

  That September, when school began again, everything changed.

  From inside the Post Office, Jayne Fairweather watched with interest as the kids began to gather at the school bus stop outside. She knew them all.

  She saw skinny, defiant little Christine Dayton who lived with her mum and sister in Springfield Road. Christine’s mum was a regular visitor to the shop. She cashed in her weekly welfare cheque at the Post Office counter and then spent a good proportion of her money on beer or cheap sherry. Her husband had vanished a long time ago. It was little wonder that young Christine was allowed to run wild. And, if the rumours were to be believed, Christine’s big sister, Mary, was pregnant, and had moved back to Yewbridge.

  Jayne’s favourite was Bella Tait. A sweet child, well-mannered and earnest. A real animal lover, too. Shame that June was such a good cook really, because Bella would be stunning if she wasn’t so plump. With that dark Italian skin, brown eyes and glossy black hair, she would be a beauty if she shed a few pounds.

  Bella stood a little apart from the other children. She wasn’t being unfriendly. If approached, she would have chatted with anyone, but she was shy and unable to join in the easy-going banter of the other children.

  The bus appeared and young faces lined the windows, staring down at the waiting children. Bella was nervous. The bus doors swept open and Christine Dayton elb
owed her way on first. Then the other children climbed aboard with Bella bringing up the rear.

  Jayne waved cheerily but Bella didn’t see her. She was on the bus and searching for an empty seat. She found one, sat down, and stared out of the window as the bus drew away.

  “Hope Fatty isn’t in our class,” she heard Christine hiss from the seat behind her.

  When they arrived, waiting teachers consulted lists and each student was sent to his or her classroom. Bella and Christine found themselves in the same one.

  High School was very different from the village school where she’d been surrounded by children she’d known for years. Here, nearly every face was strange, and where there were never more than sixteen children in a class at Sixpenny Cross, now there were thirty-two. Each time the bell rang, Bella had to change classrooms and found herself amongst more new hostile faces in the corridors.

  Unlike Bella, Christine Dayton was quite enjoying High School. It didn’t take her long to form a gang, and appoint herself as the leader. Now, when she hurled spite at Bella, her gang was there to applaud her.

  “It’s Fat Belly Bella!” Christine would crow. “What did you have for breakfast today, an elephant?”

  She snorted with laughter and her friends followed suit.

  Bella pretended not to hear, and chose a desk as far away from her taunters as possible. She laid out her books and began to study, switching off the conversation around her.

  “Fat Belly Bella, will you be goalkeeper when we play hockey this afternoon? No balls would get past you!”

  “Hey, Fat Belly, wouldn’t like to be near you if you ever explode…”

  The bullying was relentless. Every day there were new insults. A few class-mates tried to put a stop to it, but they were only half-hearted attempts. The truth was that while Bella was the target, the focus was off them. Nobody told the teachers, and they were too busy and overworked to notice.

  Physical Education lessons were the worst. Bella had to wear terrible grey shorts and short-sleeved white blouses that accentuated her dimpled flesh, providing additional opportunities for Christine and her gang to torment her. And if ever Bella was in trouble, you could be sure Christine was behind it.

  Bella never breathed a word of her troubles to her parents.

  “The thing is,” she confided to Hattie, her cat, “that if I tell Mum and Dad, it’ll really upset them. And if I tell the teachers, I think Christine and her gang will get worse. So I’ve decided to put up with the bullying and just ignore it if I can.”

  Hattie purred and rolled onto her back to have her tummy rubbed, all four paws blissfully paddling the air.

  Meanwhile, Christine had one aim in her rotten life, and that was to make Bella’s life as miserable as possible.

  Chapter Seven

  “How was school today?” asked June, ladling out a generous helping of pasta onto Bella’s plate.

  “Good,” Bella replied. “We’re doing equations in maths, and learning about onomatopoeia in English.”

  “Oh my!” said June, profoundly impressed and immensely proud of her daughter.

  “We’re so pleased that you like your new school,” said her father, his mouth full of pasta. “But don’t you work too hard, la mia bella Bella.”

  Bella smiled at him.

  But Bella wasn’t the only one keeping a secret. After dinner, when she went up to her bedroom to study, Donald closed the kitchen door and quietened his voice.

  “I don’t want Bella to hear this. I don’t want to worry her.”

  June sighed. She knew what was coming.

  “I’m so sorry, June, but I think we’ll need to raid the Italy fund again.”

  June nodded, resigned.

  “For the tax, you mean?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

  Donald worked as a mechanic but because he was self-employed, he had to file his own tax returns. He’d got himself into a mess this year, and ended up owing the Inland Revenue a large sum of money.

  “Of course,” said June. “Don’t worry, I know we’ll get there someday. Italy and my grandmother’s village will always be there, waiting for us. When the time is right, we’ll go.”

  bbbbb

  When Bella walked into the classroom, she was always prepared to close her ears, duck her head, and quietly make her way to her desk. But today was different. Today she didn’t need to. Today Christine Dayton and her gang had found another victim to torment.

  “Who set your head on fire?”

  Bella quietly sat down, then dared to look up through long lashes.

  An unfamiliar boy was standing at the front of the class. His skin was extremely fair, with a generous sprinkling of freckles scattered across his nose. He was very thin, and his shock of red hair stood on end. Bella couldn’t help smiling to herself, thinking that he resembled a lit match.

  The object of Christine’s bullying had flushed a vivid scarlet. Later, Bella would learn that it wasn’t fear or embarrassment that caused him to change colour, it was anger.

  Their teacher marched in and put her heavy bag down on the desk. The class fell silent.

  “Good morning, class. Today we welcome a new boy into our midst. This is Ryan Jenkins. Now, do we have a spare desk anywhere for Ryan?”

  “Next to Bella Tait!” Christine shouted, and sniggered.

  From anyone else, this may have sounded like a helpful suggestion, but Christine made it sound hostile and unwelcoming.

  The teacher ignored Christine and smiled at Bella.

  “Is it okay if Ryan sits next to you, Bella?”

  Bella nodded, and Ryan picked his way between the desks and sat down.

  The teacher began to call out the names in the register and Ryan and Bella stole shy glances at each other. Pale blue eyes fringed by almost white eyelashes looked into deep brown ones, the lashes thick and dark. Each picked up friendly signals. They smiled at each other and knew that they would be friends.

  “Hello Ryan, I’m Bella,” she whispered.

  “I know, the teacher said. Nobody calls me Ryan, I’m Red.”

  “Hi, Red.”

  “Hi, Bella. Are you Italian?”

  Bella glowed.

  “No, but my great-grandmother was Italian. How did you know?”

  “Your name, and your looks.”

  Bella smiled, and Red smiled right back.

  “We’re doing percentages today, have you done them before?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Good. You can help me.”

  “Nessun problema. No problem.”

  “Can you speak Italian?”

  “No, I just like to pick up odd phrases from different languages, you never know when they may come in useful. You see? That one already did!”

  Neither of them noticed Christine watching them, her eyes narrowed, her lips set in a thin line.

  bbbbb

  Bella and Red sat together whenever they could, happy and relaxed in each other’s company. No longer did Bella dread school.

  They were a strange couple. Bella’s plumpness, olive skin and brown eyes contrasted sharply with Red’s bony frame, white skin and pale eyes, all topped with flame-red hair. The pair were teased relentlessly, but they didn’t care. Their friendship made them strong and the taunts bounced off.

  “Here come Laurel and Hardy,” Christine would scoff.

  Disappointingly, her jibes had little effect. Anger caused her hands to clench into such tight fists that her fingernails pressed crescent shapes into her palms.

  Red was an exceptionally bright student. His photographic memory allowed his brain to take a snapshot of whatever he read, permanently capturing information to regurgitate later. Bella didn’t find her studies so easy, but she worked hard, and when she struggled, Red helped.

  “You’ve put the decimal point in the wrong place, that’s all,” he would say when she’d nearly chewed off the end of her pencil trying to solve a problem.

  “Ah, now it works, thanks!”

/>   “Nessun problema.”

  Red was a natural achiever, but his heart wasn’t in it. His school results were good but he didn’t enjoy lessons. What Red liked more than anything was working with his hands. It didn’t matter what: woodwork, metalwork or later on, helping Bella’s father install central heating into their cottage.

  Bella and Red became inseparable. At weekends, Red sometimes caught the bus from Yewbridge and came to Sixpenny Cross so that he and Bella could study together. They sat at the dining room table, while June brought them drinks and snacks, and Hattie purred on Bella’s lap.

  “What does your father do?” Donald asked him one day.

  “He’s a scientist,” Red replied. “He lectures at the university.”

  “And what do you want to do when you leave school?”

  Red sighed.

  “That’s the trouble,” he said. “I’m not like Bella who knows she wants to be a vet. My dad wants me to be a scientist, like him, and work in research or become a lecturer. I don’t really want to do either of those things, but I don’t know what I do want.”

  “Never mind, you’ve got plenty of time,” said June, bringing in a plate of cake.

  Nobody saw Christine Dayton watching through the window. And nobody saw her angrily plucking off the heads of the marigolds in June’s flower beds.

  Chapter Eight

  It was a beautiful day in March. Christine woke late and, bleary-eyed, she stumbled downstairs. She suddenly remembered it was her birthday.

  I’m thirteen today!

  She hoped that her dad would visit, but that was hardly likely. He hadn’t bothered to turn up for any other birthdays, and if he did, her mum wouldn’t let him into the house anyway. Chances were he was in prison.

  Her sister, Mary, hadn’t remembered either, probably too busy with her baby. In fact Christine wasn’t even sure her mother had remembered. She found her, as usual, sprawled on the couch, a bottle of sherry close by.

  “Mum, it’s my birthday, did you get me a present?”

  “What do you think I am, made of money? I paid for you to get your ears pierced last month, didn’t I? Gawd knows you been nagging me about it enough.”