Sudbourne

My mum says that I should be a barrister when I’m older. It’s because I try to stick up for us when my dad says we make his blood boil. Like when he emptied the food shopping from the carrier bags onto the floor and told my mum to pick it up. ‘That’s not fair!’ I said it without even thinking. And it came out loudly by accident, like a shout. When he bent down, I thought my dad was going to clean up the mess he had made, but he picked up a tin of baked beans from the floor and threw it at my head instead. I think he would be really good at playing darts because it hit me in the middle of my head, right between my eyes. Bullseye. I can’t remember if the scream came from my mouth or my mum’s mouth, or from both of us, but it made me jump. My dad stood in the doorway and watched while me and my mum picked up the shopping. We didn’t talk; we just picked. When he left, my mum left the lettuce, cucumber and tomatoes on the floor and wrapped herself around me like a warm blanket. She touched the bump on my forehead really gently and blew soft air on it to make it stop burning. My mum said that she doesn’t want me to try to protect her; and that I will only get hurt. But that’s what barristers do, argue for people. I don’t know anyone who is a barrister, but if you are Ghanaian, your parents will be really proud if that is your job. Or you can be a doctor or an engineer; that will make them proud too.

 

My mum says that there are no good secondary schools in our area, so she is going to send me and Sol to a private school. You have to pay to go to a private school and it’s really expensive. Basically, you can only go to a private school if your mum and dad are rich and you live in a big house and have a cleaner. We live in a two-bedroom maisonette in Brixton and me and my mum do all the cleaning, so I don’t know how we are going to afford it. We are in the top flat, so we don’t have a garden but it’s okay because me and Sol can walk to Brockwell Park in ten minutes, five minutes if we run. I’ve never been swimming at the Lido because we go swimming at Brixton Rec. The Rec is warmer because it’s indoors; the Lido is an outdoor pool. When my dad is in a good mood, he takes me and Sol swimming, but he doesn’t come in the water with us. I wear a swimming cap because I don’t want my hair to get wet, but it always does. I can hold my breath for thirty-nine seconds underwater – if I count quickly. Sol can hold his for forty-eight seconds. At Water Palace in Croydon, they have a real wave machine, but we’ve only been there once. Before you can go to a private school, you have to pass an entrance exam.

 

Sharon lives in the bottom flat with her three children, DeShaun, Dion and Danisha. They are Flat A and we are Flat B. Sharon is white and fat. She wears round glasses and dark coloured clothes and she is always smoking. Even though her children are mixed race, Danisha’s hair is not really that nice. I don’t think she even uses DAX because it is greyish brown and never shiny. Danisha’s dad is called Lloyd. He doesn’t live with them any more because he is mad. Me and Sol always see Lloyd on Rattray Road and Kellett Road. He always has a can of beer in his hand and he can never walk in a straight line. Winston says Lloyd is banned from his off-licence. Sometimes me and Sol see him in the hallway banging on Sharon’s door. He bangs and swears but no one lets him in. Sometimes, the police come and take Lloyd away. When my dad is in a good mood, he takes us to Winston’s after school and we are allowed to choose a packet of sweets or crisps or a fizzy drink as a treat.

My mum doesn’t like it if me and Sol play outside with DeShaun, Dion and Danisha and we are not allowed inside their house. Once we saw inside when Sharon was standing in the hallway talking to the police. When we got upstairs, my mum said it looked filthy and she doesn’t know how anybody can live like that. It’s a pigsty. That’s probably where the mice are coming from. My mum says there is no way that me and Sol are going to the same school as Sharon’s children. She prays that God will bless her sufficiently to allow her to provide for her children, and give her the strength to find a way out of this godforsaken marriage.

 

If you want to go to a private school but you can’t afford to because your family doesn’t have any money, you can get an ‘assisted place’. That’s when the school basically feels sorry for you and says you don’t have to pay as much money as the families who are rich. That’s how Sol got into Jacobson Secondary School, an independent school for boys and girls. He’s going to play sports like rugby, hockey and tennis and maybe even go skiing in Year 8. Sol is the only boy from Sacred Heart who is going to Jacobson. He is going to make friends with boys called Melchior and Caspar and Balthazar. He isn’t even nervous that he won’t know them on his first day at school. I don’t know what it will be like when Sol is not in the playground when I start Year 5. But I am happy when my dad says that I can walk to school by myself. He is going to be dropping Sol at school in the mornings from now on. My mum speaks to Chloe’s mum on the phone and they agree that we can walk to school together. Chloe only lives two roads away from me.

My mum says she can’t afford to pay Sol’s school fees and my school fees by herself, so she will pay Sol’s fees and my dad will pay mine. My mum takes us to John Lewis in the West End to buy Sol’s new school uniform. He has to wear a blazer in a colour called ‘forest green’ with a white shirt, black trousers and a green, black and white striped tie. Sol has to try everything on in the changing room so my mum can make sure it is big enough to last for at least two years. She is not going to be able to buy another uniform anytime soon. My mum has to buy Sol a PE kit and a hockey stick too. When she pays for his uniform at the till, my mum says it costs more than her ticket to Ghana. I feel really bad because I wish she could spend that money to go and see Mama and Auntie Maame again.

 

Before I take the entrance exam to Sudbourne, I touch wood every time I hear someone say my name. I keep one of my mum’s rosaries in my pocket because it’s made from wood. That means I don’t have to worry about being next to a wooden table or thing all the time; I just have to wear clothes with pockets to keep the rosary safe and close. If my dad calls me, I touch wood before and after I make the sign of the cross. And at night time, I keep the rosary under my pillow. It’s the last thing I touch before I go to sleep and the first thing I touch when I wake up. There is no way I’m going to fail that exam because I am not going to the same secondary school as Danisha.

The entrance exam is in the assembly hall at Sudbourne and there are about two hundred and fifty girls taking the same exam at the same time as me. We have to do exam papers called verbal reasoning and non-verbal reasoning. I’ve been practising for months and months at home. My mum bought me practice test papers to help me prepare. Even though I’ve done so many practice questions before I get there, my hands are sweaty and shaky on my pen when the teacher says, ‘You may begin.’ Even though every girl is going to try her best, not every girl is going to get into Sudbourne. There are only seventy-five places and two hundred and fifty girls.

The letter came on a Saturday morning in a white envelope that said ‘Sudbourne’ with the school crest in a red stamp. My hands were trembling as I opened it, but I knew as soon as I saw the words ‘We are delighted . . .’ that I was going to make my mum so proud.

 

I really like my new school uniform. It is navy blue like my Sacred Heart uniform, but the jumper has black and white lines along the ‘V’, and a crest that lets people know I go to a private school. My skirt is ‘A line’ and not pleated like my old one, so it is easier to iron. My shirt is white and I don’t have to wear a tie. My mum buys me a blazer, a new winter coat and a purse belt for my lunch money. I like the way it makes a sound when I clip it at the front of my skirt, and how smart it makes me look. If they haven’t been to my house, people will probably think I have a cleaner and a driveway.

When I start Sudbourne, I get the bus from outside Boots in Brixton to the hill a short walk away from my school. It takes about an hour and fifteen minutes in total, depending on the traffic. Walking down the hill in the morning is always easier than walking up the hill at the end of the day. If you can afford it, you can get the school coach, which picks you up from near your house and drops you off at the school gate. Sometimes, I go to the Body Shop after school. I love to smell the bath bombs and body butters before I go home. You can put the ‘tester’ cream on your hands to take the smell home with you. I like going to Morleys to look at the shimmery eyeshadows at the MAC make-up counter and all the different colours of lipstick. I rub the eyeshadows on the back of my hand so I can imagine what it would look like if it was actually on my eyes.

I have to pass the men outside the betting shop on my way home. There are usually about five or six of them and they always shout comments at me as I walk past.

‘Pssssst! Oi, you!’

‘Wagwan, princess? Look at dat walk!’

 

It happens almost every day. I cross the road so I don’t have to walk right in front of them because it makes me feel so uncomfortable. I don’t know if they are going to get angry at me for not answering back. Or if they will follow me home. In winter, I run home because it’s dark and I’m by myself. Sol has after school sports and activities, so he usually gets back after me. My dad picks him up from school and they get KFC on the way home, or Subway.

 

The worst thing about going to Sudbourne is that every time I ask my mum for something, like new shoes or clothes, she always says the same four words: ‘I can’t afford it’. I don’t ask my dad for anything. Sometimes he doesn’t pay my school fees on time and we get a letter in the post with red writing that says if he doesn’t pay within fourteen days, I won’t be allowed to go back to school. When my mum shows me those letters, my chest goes tight and my hands get sweaty. I don’t know what will happen to me if I can’t go back to school. It’s the one place I love to be more than anywhere else in the world. My mum would pay my school fees as well as Sol’s if she could because she hates asking my dad for anything. But she shows me her bank statement and all the minus numbers in it so I know she has no spare money and that she even has to borrow some. I wonder if God would mind if my mum stopped putting £5 in the collection at church, so we can use it for food instead.

 

The best thing about Sudbourne is my friends.