| |
| "Tiffany's Talent" Copyright Francis Blow, 1991. |
| CHAPTER 1 |
| "Tiffany! Get here, now!" Ms. Brindle's shrill voice carried to where twelve year old Tiffany was hanging clothes on the line. Tiffany dashed through the kitchen door and into the house. |
| "Here I am, Ms. Brindle." Tiffany replied, when she saw the woman near the refrigerator. |
| "It's about time. Now look at the state of this fridge! It's filthy!" |
| "I did clean it this morning, before I started the washing..." Tiffany began, violet eyes taking in the smudged door. |
| "How dare you interrupt me while I'm talking!" The woman screamed. |
| Tiffany's narrow shoulders slumped. She knew there was no point in arguing with the woman, once Ms. Brindle got herself worked up. |
| Why do I put up with this? Tiffany thought to herself, I could be home, or playing with other kids. |
| She knew the answer, though. There was not enough money to buy food for her mother and sisters. Tiffany's mother had jobs, but there was never enough money, especially for all the medicine. Tiffany was the only one out of the four of her family who rarely got sick. |
| "Well? What are you going to do about it?" Ms. Brindle demanded. |
| "I could clean it up now, or after I hang the clothes up." The child said resignedly. |
| "I want it done now!" |
| "Yes, ma'am." Tiffany fetched her cleaning things, and took care of the mess she knew Ms. Brindle's son made. It would not have surprised Tiffany to know that the boy did it on purpose, to get Tiffany into trouble. |
| That chore done, the girl went back to the clothes line, and finished hanging the clothes. She was glad Ms. Brindle had not made her carry the washing home to do in her mum's washing machine. As she worked, Tiffany dreamed of what it would be like if she had a normal life, like lots of her schoolmates. She could play whenever she wanted to; even catch buses or ride a bike, instead of walking everywhere; go to parties at friends places... |
| "Stop that daydreaming, and hurry up! You've got all the vacuuming to do yet." |
| "Yes, Ms. Brindle." |
| |
| An hour later, Tiffany walked home for lunch. She promised Ms. Brindle she would return to take in the washing and do the ironing by three o'clock. |
| |
| "How's my big girl?" Tiffany's mum asked, when Tiffany walked into her own house. |
| "Tired. What's for lunch, Mum?" |
| "Oh, dear. I forgot about lunch. Can you get it yourself?" |
| "I suppose. How was work?" Tiffany asked, while searching for something to make herself lunch. |
| "My back was playing up again, so I didn't go." |
| "Oh, Mum! How are we going to pay the bills, if you won't go to work?" |
| "Now, Tiffy, you know I can't do too much, what with my condition." |
| "That's not true, and you know it! You make me do all the work at home, then I work on the weekends, and afternoons, too, and you get fired from every job you get, because you're lazy!" |
| "Don't you talk to me like that, Miss! I'm your mother!" |
| "Then why don't you act like a mother, instead of giving up all the time?" Tiffany burst into tears. She did not mean to say those things to her mother. She loved her mother. |
| "Well, Tiffany, if that's your attitude, why don't you leave home, and make your own way in the world?" Her mother yelled. |
| "What?" Tiffany could not believe her ears. |
| "I said, if you don't like it here, then leave." |
| "I didn't say that, Mum. It's just that I work so hard! All I get is people yelling at me. There's not even enough food in the house to make a sandwich! Where's the groceries you were going to buy?" |
| "I was busy." Came the vague reply. |
| "Yes?" Tiffany waited to be told what had made her busy, but her mother walked away. |
| "I don't have to answer to a twelve year old busy-body." |
| Tiffany's tears started rolling down her cheeks once more. All she had for her lunch was two slices of dry bread, a limp carrot and a glass of water. She went to the room which she shared with her younger sisters, and lay on her bed. Tiffany closed her violet eyes, and forced herself to calm down. |
| Why was life so cruel? Didn't she do everything expected of her, and more? What did she get in return? A mother, who never lasted more than a couple of months in any job. Two sisters: ten year old Denise, and Arlene, who was seven; neither girl ever seemed to do any of the house work, because they were always "too sick", just like Mum. Their father had run off, years before, when Tiffany was eight. That was when Tiffany had to start helping out. |
| At first, there had only been a few chores around the house, then more and more, until Tiffany did almost all the house work. By the time she was eleven, Tiffany was doing extra laundry work, when her mother brought other people's clothes. |
| And then, on her twelfth birthday...On her own birthday! Tiffany was told she was old enough to start working as a housekeeper in stranger's homes, homes that her Mum picked. |
| What did she have to show for all her hard work? Well, there was Missy, her doll that she had since she was a baby. Two yellow blouses, and one blue skirt that, with black shoes, was her school uniform, and all of it heaps too small. Two old dresses, also too small; a short, brown skirt, four shirts and two sloppy joes. Oh, and five pairs of knickers and singlets. |
| Half the time, Denise was wearing Tiffany's clothes, anyway. But at least, her sandals were her own. |
| "Oh, no!" Her dress! There was a tear in the sleeve, and two buttons were missing. |
| Even though the dress was too short and tight on her, it was the only one Tiffany could wear that had looked decent. Now she had nothing. |
| "Mum, look at what Denise did to my dress!" Tiffany ran to her mother's bedroom, ruined dress held out. Tiffany stopped in the doorway to the bedroom. Her eyes and mouth opened in disbelief at what she saw her mother doing. |
| "What's that needle for?" She asked. |
| "Huh? Tiffy, um, it's my medicine." Her mother suddenly went pale. |
| "I don't believe you. You're doing drugs, aren't you? Are you crazy? Why are you..." |
| "Get out!" The woman screamed, eyes flashing hatred. "Get out of my house, and don't come back! You're the one who's probably keeping all the money. I'll bet that's what you're doing, aren't you?" |
| "Mum! Mummy, don't!" |
| A small lamp flew towards Tiffany, who turned aside, so the lamp hit her shoulder and not her chest. Tiffany dropped the dress, and ran out of her home. She did not stop running, until she was more than a kilometre away. Tiffany was numb with shock. Was her mum really a drug addict? |
| It was all a bad dream, of course. |
| There was no way Tiffany could have seen her mother shooting up with a needle. What a nightmare. |
| Tiffany rolled over. She was cold, and her blanket was gone. Her mattress was harder than usual, and lumpy. She opened her eyes and sat up. |
| "Denise? Arlene?" Tiffany was groggy with lack of sleep, as she looked for her sisters. |
| Where was she? This wasn't her bedroom! |
| Instead of in her bed, Tiffany had spent the night sleeping on a pile of sacks. The room she was in was dark, though she did recognise it a few seconds later. It was the loading dock at the back of Headly's Hardware. Tiffany had helped out there, once, when the store's regular cleaner had been sick for a month; when she had swept out the loading dock, Tiffany discovered a loose window. That must have been how she got in, last night. |
| Memories returned. |
| After her escape from the horror of home, Tiffany had gone back to Ms. Brindle's place, to finish her work. She had been paid. Where was the money? |
| In her pocket. Sixteen dollars, for eight hours work. |
| Tiffany left the building, using the window. There was no one about, and she recalled that it was Sunday. Most of the shops were closed. |
| Maybe it WAS all a mistake? Of course it was. She had misunderstood the whole thing. She had to. It couldn't be true! |
| |
| Home was four kilometres away, and Tiffany walked. There was a lot of time to think about what happened, and to convince herself that she made a stupid mistake about her mother. After all, her mum was thirty two. An adult. And adults did not take drugs, did they? |
| |
| Less than an hour after she left the hardware store, Tiffany was home. The doors were locked, and no one answered Tiffany's knocking. Fortunately, Tiffany knew where a spare key was, in a crack under a window. |
| It was gone. There was no key. |
| Why would Mum take the spare? Maybe she lost her own key, but that left Tiffany with no way in, and Tiffany needed to get in. She wanted to use the bathroom, and get into clean clothes. Then, if there was no food in the house, she would go to the shops and find a place to have breakfast. But first she had to get in. |
| How? Try the windows |
| Tiffany did not bother with the ones she knew to be nailed shut, and the rest were all locked tight. She could not get in through the doors or windows; what was left? The walls were weatherboard, and had no gaps. The floor was concrete. |
| The roof? |
| Tiffany put the ladder up against the eaves at the back, and climbed onto the roof. Some of the tiles could move! Tiffany opened up several tiles, so sunlight shone inside. She knew there was a trapdoor there, somewhere, that led into the house. After moving more tiles, picked at random, Tiffany finally saw the trapdoor beneath her. The next problem was making a gap wide enough to let her through the roof. |
| She put back all the tiles that were not near the trapdoor, then fiddled with a few, until she could squeeze past, and down, to stand on a roof beam. Crouching, Tiffany lifted the trapdoor up. Below was the laundry. Tiffany could see the washing machine and the tub. |
| How to get down? Hang by her hands, then drop? |
| The door was close enough to step onto the top edge, then she could slide down. It was worth a try. |
| Tiffany placed her left foot onto the top of the door, then her right, gradually putting more weight on the door, until it was supporting her. |
| Getting down was a little trickier. Tiffany lowered herself, by hanging from the top with her hands. Her foot found the door knob, and all she had to do was jump. She was inside at last. |
| There was one more problem. Closing the tiles on the roof. The only way to get out was through a window. The doors were dead-bolted. |
| Less than ten minutes later, everything was in place, except for the trapdoor, and Tiffany was searching the refrigerator and larder for breakfast. |
| There was absolutely nothing to eat. Not a crumb. So much for that idea. At least there was the shower. After a quick scrub, Tiffany dried off and went to her room for clothes. |
| Denise had been at her clothes again. All Tiffany could find in her drawer was an old pair of sports briefs. They were faded and had a worn waistband. |
| She slid Denise's drawer open. Empty. What was going on here? |
| Arlene's drawer had been cleared out, too. Tiffany ran to her mother's bedroom. Naturally, everything was gone. She searched the house for a note, or anything to tell her what happened. There was nothing. |
| |
| Tiffany's panic lasted half an hour, after which, she looked for a dress to wear. All there was was her dirty dress, a dirty school uniform and the torn, red-striped dress. The only thing left to do was to wash the dirty clothes. Tiffany wore the torn dress when she went out to hang her washing. The neighbours would get suspicious if they saw her in the back yard wearing only knickers. |
| The sewing kit! Was it still there? Tiffany went through the linen cupboard. Old sheets, pillowcases, a torn blanket. The sewing kit! |
| Instead of waiting for her dress to dry, she sat in the kitchen, and carefully mended the torn dress. None of the spare buttons matched the dress, though no one might notice. Besides, it was all she had. |
| |
| Dressed decently, at last, Tiffany took her money and went to the shops. As she walked, Tiffany thought about what to buy. She only had sixteen dollars. Bread and milk, to start, and margarine. Cheese, vegemite. That would take care of today and school lunches, and with what she had left, Tiffany would get something for dinner. |
| Tiffany did get her staples. That left her with sixty cents. Not enough for dinner. She would be hungry, though she would not starve. At least, not right away. |
| Breakfast was a cheese and vegemite sandwich, washed down with a glass of milk. If she only ate breakfast and lunch, she had enough for the week. That wiped out all her earnings from Ms. Brindle, but Tiffany took in washing for two other women, which earned her another twenty dollars. Should she put her prices up? |
| No. Her customers might go to someone else. Could she live on thirty six dollars a week? If all she had to buy was food, then it would not be a hassle. Unfortunately, there was the rent and other bills. That meant Tiffany would soon be thrown out. If she lost the house and washing machine, how could she earn money? |
| Suddenly, she thought of something else. Soap powder! How much was left? |
| Tiffany looked in the laundry. Enough for five or six loads. She would have to buy more, next week. |
| As a guess, Tiffany thought she might have two or three weeks left in the house, then...what? Sleep in the streets? |
| God, don't let this happen to me, please! Tiffany realised just how bad her position was. |
| "Mummy, come back!" She sobbed inside the empty house. |
| |
| Tiffany passed most of Sunday by feeling sorry for herself, and crying. That did not help, so she worked out what she had left to call her own. Two dresses, two pairs of knickers, one school uniform, shoes, sandals and a doll; toothbrush, hair brush and other toiletries, towels and linen, kitchen utensils, a schoolbag, sewing kit, an iron and an old, wind-up alarm clock. She did not include furniture, or other things she could not lift. |
| There was not even a suitcase to put things in. |
| It was ten o'clock before Tiffany went to bed, her uniform ironed and ready for school. |
| What would school bring? she wondered, More disasters? |
