“Guess what mam I’ve sold that ornament you hate. Got fifty quid for it too!”
I was dead proud of meself. Mr Jenkins’d wanted to give me twenty but I did like they do on telly and told him I wanted eighty. I couldn’t believe it when he’d given me fifty. I felt right grown up!
A sharp crack stung me face. I’d expected me mam to be chuffed, not to crack me.
“You stupid, stupid boy!” I’d never seen her so mad.
“But mam you hated it.” I was nearly crying, but 10 year old boys don’t cry so I swallowed hard.
“I nicked it.” Her voice was odd, shaking like and she looked scared. “I nicked it. It was a one off. I couldn’t sell the bloody thing because it was so rare.” Then she swore. I’d never heard me mam swear. She looked round the room, her eyes were weird like the pictures of rabbits I’ve seen when a car’s coming towards them and they don’t know which way to turn. She’d not moved when the cops turned up, three vans and a car, all with their lights flashing.
They took pictures off the walls, checked all the furniture and emptied the drawers and cupboards. Me mam just sat with her head in her hands. Me Nan came for me. She never even looked at me mam, just grabbed me hand and brought me here. I’ve not seen me mam since. I’m not allowed to mention her.
Nobody asked me about the money I got from Mr Jenkins, so I’ve hid it and one day when I’m grown up, I’m going to use it to find her and tell her I’m sorry for selling the ornament.