The Alibi Girl. C.J. Skuse

the phone place?’

      ‘No, I didn’t like that one.’

      ‘With the man on the market stall?’

      ‘No, I didn’t like that one either.’

      ‘With those men who came to the house last night?’

      ‘What men?’ He frowns. Oops. I was supposed to be in bed. ‘Oh those weren’t men – that was the Three Little Pigs.’ I chuckle. ‘They’re my mates. They keep asking me to build them some proper houses cos the wolf keeps blowing theirs down.’

      ‘Liar, liar, pants in the drier.’

      ‘It’s true, Squish. They’re going to pay me lots of money so we can have a brilliant Christmas this year.’

      ‘I thought you liked working at the phone place.’

      ‘Nah. The boss was a bit of an ogre.’

      ‘What, a real ogre?’

      ‘Yeah, a proper ogre. She’d eat whole humans for her lunch.’

      ‘Urgh.’

      ‘And she lived under a bridge and everything.’ He checks his phone screen.

      ‘Trolls live under bridges, Dad.’ The train goes under a bridge and all goes to black, briefly. ‘Like that one.’ ‘How come we came by train this time?’

      ‘The car’s being serviced.’

      ‘Can I have something to eat? The lady’s coming with the trolley.’

      ‘Wait ’til we get to the station. Auntie Chelle will get you something in town.’

      The train cannot roll into Taunton Station quickly enough and I’m already in the aisle with my case when it comes to a stop. My knees almost buckling with excitement, I look through every window, whizzing through the faces on the platform for signs of Auntie Chelle. And then I see her. She’s in a red wrap-around dress and a blue cardigan and petrol blue boots with buckles. I can’t see Foy. The disappointment comes upon me like a sicky belch. Foy said she was coming. Where is she?

      And then I see her. In her blue ballet tutu and blue tights and gelled back bun. She’s swinging on the bike racks behind Chelle. That’s when my holiday begins properly – the moment I start running along the platform towards Auntie Chelle and she sees me coming and shrieks with delight and I crash safely in her embrace and she lifts me up and we hug so tightly and I breathe the familiar jasmine scent of her curls. The nearest thing I have to a mum is a perfumy waft that comes from Dad’s second wardrobe. Chelle is a living breathing mum and it’s all I can do to stop touching her.

      ‘How’s my precious girl?’ she cries, stroking my cheeks with her thumbs and gazing down at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh we’ve missed you, Ellis. We’ve all missed you so much.’ She cuddles me against her.

      ‘I’ve missed you too.’

      And she sets me down and Foy skips over and hugs me as well.

      ‘Look, I got you a surprise,’ she says and then holds out her hands and I have to pick one. I pick the one that has a little cat pencil topper inside it. Then she opens her other hand to reveal a tiny fold of paper. She’s drawn me a picture of us standing on top of our castle with our swords pointed up to the sky. Standing around us are some of our army – The Knights. Monday Knight, Tuesday Knight, Thursday Knight and our Chief Knight, Saturday. Our own personal bodyguard service.

      ‘That’s us,’ she giggles.

      ‘I love it!’ I say. ‘Did the storm blow the castle down? I was worried.’

      ‘No, it only took the roof off so Isaac and Dad patched it up. It’s really strong now. Dad found us a sheet of wavy plastic for the top. Come on, let’s do this,’ she says and leads me over to the bike racks while Chelle talks to Dad. I don’t catch their conversation – it’s usually boring brother-sister stuff. They don’t hug like we do.

      Me and Foy sit in the back of Chelle’s car and pretend we’re being chauffeur-driven by our servants. Foy is the Duchess of Fowey because that’s the place she’s named after, and I am Lady Kemp of Ashton Gate because I live near Ashton Gate. We are so stinking rich that we have our own castle and every animal you can think of. We are off into town to buy new saddles for the unicorns and bamboo for our pandas.

      ‘Yes, turn here, Jeeves,’ says Foy with a dismissive wave of her hand as Chelle’s car turns at the traffic lights into the road at the back of the church where we usually park. Dad’s come along to have a quick bite in town before his train back to Bristol.

      ‘Dad, can you come and stay at the pub as well?’ I say.

      ‘I can’t love,’ he says. ‘I told you, I’ve got work.’

      ‘What work is that?’ asks Chelle.

      ‘Got a job with a mate doing a bit of cash in hand.’

      ‘Sounds lucrative,’ she says. And they don’t talk about it anymore.

      ‘It’s for the Three Little Pigs,’ I say, ‘building houses for them.’ Nobody laughs.

      We park up in the pay and display behind the big church.

      ‘Mum, can we go to Wimpy?’ asks Foy.

      ‘Yes, you two go on ahead and order. I’ll have a Coke.’

      ‘I’ll have some chips and a Coke,’ says Dad. ‘I’ve got a quick errand to run actually so I’ll meet you all in there.’

      ‘What errand?’ says Chelle.

      He checks his phone, then puts it back in his pocket. ‘Well there’s this princess, you see, and she’s been asleep for a thousand years and if I don’t climb up this big tall tower and give her a kiss, she won’t ever wake up. So I’ll dash off and do that and I’ll be back, alright Squish?’

      He yanks my plait and wiggles Foy’s bun and we both laugh and then he rides off like he’s on his horsey, which makes us laugh even more. ‘I won’t be long.’

      Chelle’s not laughing.

      Me and Foy have cheese burgers and chips and strawberry milkshakes and scoff them greedily as Chelle sits taking the ice out of her Coke and placing it in the ashtray.

      ‘How many Easter eggs have you got?’ Foy asks between red-saucy mouthfuls.

      ‘I don’t know. Dad packed them in my case to give to Chelle.’

      ‘We’ve got to buy some, Ellis,’ says Chelle. ‘He didn’t get round to it. As usual.’

      ‘Oh right.’

      ‘We’ll nip to Woolworths on our way to the car. And I must do the bank.’

      ‘Maybe that’s what his errand was?’ I suggest.

      ‘I doubt it,’ Chelle smiles, stealing a couple of Dad’s untouched chips. ‘Woolworths is nowhere near the betting shop, is it?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Anyway, never mind him. What would you like to do this holiday, Miss?’

      This is my favourite bit of any holiday – the bit before it all begins. She leans forwards, like she’s telling us both a great big secret. ‘Everything,’ I say, licking at the dried line of tangy ketchup around my mouth. ‘I want to do everything!’

      ‘Right, well, we’re doing our Easter egg hunt on Sunday and then we’ll all go for a ride out in the country to that nice tea place and have poached eggs and soldiers—’

      ‘Yeah!’ says Foy. ‘They have a wicked climbing frame there, bigger than the castle. And they’ve got the dogs we played with last time, remember?’

      I do remember, every second of it. One