Queenie by Jacqueline Wilson

worried, Elsie. I have a feeling they
will
have a great big Smartie jar for good girls in the hospital.’ He made little waving movements with his hands, clearly ushering us out.
    ‘Well!’ said Mum, out in the street. She peered warily at my wrist again, as if it were a time bomb. ‘It looks like you’ve really got it then. Gawd, what a turn-up. We’d better hurry and get you kitted out with new pyjamas and a decent toothbrush.’
    I didn’t usually wear any pyjamas or nighties in bed – I stayed in my vest and frilly knickers. I couldn’t help feeling excited when Mum took me into Woolworths, especially when I saw a pair of pink winceyette pyjamas patterned all over with
kittens
.
    ‘Oh Mum, please may I have those ones? Oh Mum, please, please, please,’ I begged, hanging on her arm.
    ‘They’re seven shillings and sixpence! It’s daylight robbery,’ said Mum – but she bought them,
and
a pink toothbrush,
and
a Muffin the Mule flannel.
    ‘Are we using up all our money, Mum? Will we have to go to the National Assistance?’ I asked.
    ‘Ssh! No, we will not! That doctor had a cheek suggesting it. We’re not riff-raff,’ said Mum.
    She bought me a new
Girl
too, and a pastel sweetie necklace. ‘You can eat it when you get sick of wearing it,’ she said.
    ‘Oh Mum, I do love you,’ I said, and reached up to kiss her.
    She pulled away from me. ‘Watch out! I don’t want your germs!’ she said sharply.
    I backed away in dismay, my hands over my mouth.
    ‘Now don’t look at me like that with those big Bambi eyes! There’s no point me catching it too, is there? I’m the one who has to work to pay all the bills,’ said Mum. ‘Now come on – let’s go and get those stupid X-rays done.’
    We went back to the hospital. I had to lie down on a strange table this time and keep very still while they twisted my legs into odd positions. We’d been kept waiting a long time so it was nearly lunch time now.
    ‘Tell you what, we’ll go to Lyons for a treat,’ said Mum.
    Nan and I rarely went to Lyons, and never for lunch. If we went out, we went to the ABC and shared a currant bun and a milk-and-a-dash, and I had an extra sugar cube to suck.
    ‘Are we having a bun, Mum?’ I asked.
    ‘No, we’ll have a proper lunch,’ she said.
    I couldn’t make up my mind in the queue so Mum chose for me: tomato soup with a roll and butter, fish and chips – under a plastic dome to keep them warm – and then strawberry mousse.
    It was the most glorious meal I’d ever had, and yet somehow I didn’t feel like eating it. I kept thinking of the germs wriggling around inside me. I could almost feel them tickling under the skin. I kept my sore wrist covered up with my cardigan sleeve and hid it under the table to make sure no one could even get a glimpse of it. I ate one-handed, trying hard not to spill the bright red soup.
    Mum kept staring at me, shaking her head. ‘I can’t quite take it in,’ she said. ‘Eat up nicely now, Elsie.’
    I tried hard but my throat seemed to have closed up. I couldn’t even swallow the soft white roll, though I chewed and chewed. I ended up just sucking a few chips and eating a spoonful of mousse.
    ‘What a waste,’ said Mum, but she’d barely touched her own meal. She looked at her watch. ‘Look, my interview’s at two. Maybe we could trek all the way to this hospital afterwards. How do you feel about that?’
    I wasn’t really used to being asked how I felt. I shrugged my shoulders.
    ‘That’s it. That’s what we’ll do,’ said Mum. ‘After all, someone’s got to pay the rent, eh? And it’s going to cost me a fortune, going backwards and forwards to Miltree.’
    ‘How long will I be there?’ I asked. The roll still seemed to be in my throat, stopping me from swallowing properly.
    ‘How should I know?’ said Mum. ‘Then I suppose I’ll have to visit your nanny too, though she really doesn’t deserve it, passing all her TB on to you.’
    ‘Nan didn’t mean to,