Cuckoo in the Nest. Michelle Magorian

bed draped with veils and chiffon, Hollywood style, like the American films she was forever going to see. Her hair was coiffured, her lips dark red and bow-shaped, and as the dark handsome figure of Errol Flynn gazed at her beauty, Joan would begin to snore like a pig. He pressed his hand against his mouth, to smother his laughter, shot up the stairs into his room, stripped off and dived under the covers.

      Luckily there was only one pair of feet that night, although if Joan continued her trumpeting, Elsie would soon be joining them again. There was a creak on the landing.

      ‘As I thought,’ he muttered, full of sympathy.

      The door opened slowly. Ralph peered over the covers. By the dim grey light of dawn he saw his mother. He watched her make her way to his bed. ‘Everything all right?’ she whispered.

      He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Sort of.’

      ‘Did you get work there?’

      ‘Yes and no.’

      ‘What does that mean?’

      ‘I helped out, but I didn’t get paid.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because I hadn’t asked the stage director or the master carpenter for permission to be there. In fact I would’ve been out on my ear if it hadn’t been for one of the ASMs. That’s an assistant stage manager. She made out I was a friend who had come to watch and learn and that she had forgotten to ask permission. She even got ticked off for it.’

      ‘Young, is she?’

      ‘No. She’s about twenty.’

      ‘Very old. Walk with a stick, did she?’

      ‘You know what I mean.’

      ‘Too old for you.’

      ‘Mum! It’s not like that!’ But he could see that his mother was smiling. ‘Anyway,’ he said firmly, ‘in the end the master carpenter said he’d put in a good word for me so I can do it again next week. They still won’t be paying me but I’ll learn a hell of a lot if I help.’

      ‘She must be a good looker.’

      ‘Mum!’ he said exasperated, but he found that he was blushing and he laughed.

      She touched his hair. ‘It’s good to see you happy again.’

      He sighed. ‘Not for long, I expect. Fireworks to face soon enough, I suppose. Did he say anything?’

      ‘We was all in bed before he came back.’

      ‘Was he drunk?’

      ‘’Course not.’

      ‘How do you know if you weren’t up to see it?’

      ‘Just ’cos a man smells of beer it don’t mean he can’t handle his drink, love. Now get some sleep. You must be done in.’

      So must you be, he thought.

      ‘And you’ll have to get up same as everyone.’

      ‘I know.’

      He watched her move back to the door. ‘Mum,’ he whispered.

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘You shouldn’t have waited up for me.’

      ‘Who says I did? I just happened to hear the door. Anyway Auntie Win’s like a donkey in the night. I’m black and blue. I don’t know what she dreams about but she’s kicking the hell out of somebody.’

      ‘Dad, I expect,’ said Ralph sardonically. ‘Or a bigamist.’

      ‘Oh, Ralphie, don’t start me up,’ and she smothered a laugh and fled from the room.

      It seemed as though he had only closed his eyes for a second when he felt himself being torn apart by small insistent hands. He woke to find Elsie and Harry rocking him from side to side. He yawned and promptly fell asleep again.

      ‘Push him harder!’ he heard Elsie mutter urgently. ‘I got to use me other hand to keep me specs on.’

      ‘I’m pushin’ him as hard as I can.’

      ‘Sit up, Ralph,’ he heard her say and he felt a small thin arm encircle itself round his neck and yank it forward. ‘You’ll get Dad in one of his moods if you don’t get a move on!’

      That seemed to motivate him. He hauled himself out of bed and allowed his brother and sister to shove him out of the bed and lead him to his clothes.

      ‘Do you mind!’ he said when he realised that Elsie was attempting to pull his pyjama trousers off. ‘I’ve seen it all before,’ said Elsie nonchalantly.

      ‘Well, you haven’t seen my all, Elsie,’ he said, hanging on to the trousers, ‘and I don’t intend you should.’

      Elsie gave the sort of exasperated sigh one would give to a small child and stomped to the door. ‘Mind you make him dress, Harry,’ she said waving an admonishing finger at him.

      Ralph smiled. His tiny sister’s bossiness with Harry amused him.

      ‘I can remember how to dress myself, Harry. You can go if you want.’

      ‘You’re joking. I ain’t going nowhere till you’re washed and dressed.’ He pointed to the large jug which was standing in a china bowl on the table. ‘Your water’s there.’

      ‘You mean our water.’

      ‘I don’t need to wash. I’m clean enough.’

      Ralph stood in his trousers, his braces dangling down the sides of his legs. He poured the icy water into the bowl and proceeded to wash his face and hands. ‘Sure you don’t want any of this?’ he said, flicking some at his brother.

      ‘Gerrof !’ Harry protested.

      ‘Its not acid, you know. It won’t burn you.’

      He rubbed his face vigorously and then stopped. His skin felt slightly rough. He touched it gently with his fingertips.

      ‘Harry,’ he said, ‘can you see any stubble?’

      Harry peered at him in the gloom. It was a dismal day outside and it permeated the room.

      ‘Nah.’ He grinned. ‘Spots, mebbe.’

      Ralph flicked some more water at him. He rubbed himself vigorously with a towel. He was freezing. Still the water had woken him up a bit.

      He grabbed the clean white shirt his mother had left out for him, tucked it in and hauled his braces over his shoulders.

      ‘You can go now,’ he said to Harry.

      ‘I’ll wait till you’ve done your buttons up.’

      ‘She’s really got you under her thumb, hasn’t she?’

      ‘I let her think she has,’ said Harry airily.

      Ralph grabbed his collar which was dangling over his end of the bed, held it in his hands like the murderess Ellen Creed and advanced towards him. Harry gave a shriek and crawled hastily over the bed to the door with Ralph after him.

      ‘Glad to see someone in good spirits,’ said Auntie Win in the kitchen, ‘though I don’t know why.’

      Ralph and Harry gave each other a glance. Ralph noticed that his father’s bed was made up and sounds of water were coming from the scullery. His mother was frying bread over the range. A large bowl of dripping was in the centre of the table.

      ‘So you got home,’ she added.

      ‘Win, please,’ said Ralph’s mother urgently. ‘I couldn’t take another row.’

      ‘On your own head be it,’ said Auntie Win. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

      Ralph grinned. In spite of his aunt’s gibes he