Marilyn and the blimps

Marilyn and the blimps by Cara Wides



Carol put the poster of Marilyn Monroe up inside the door of the big kitchen cupboard. The one where all the crisps, chocolate biscuits and other danger foods were.

                She looked around the kitchen. It was so shabby. The sink was rusty at the top, round the edges. The walls were a dismal grey, even though they had been repainted recently. Carol had done the job herself to save money.

                The ceiling light looked tragic and needed replacing. But she couldn't afford it at the moment. New clothes would be nice too, if she had the money.

                In the poster, Marilyn was wearing a rich pink dress, which ended above her bust, leaving her shoulders bare. If only Carol could wear a dress like that. The tops of Carol's arms resembled bags of flour.

                The poster showed Marilyn surrounded by men holding out strings of diamonds. No man had ever given Carol a diamond.  Men never gave her anything, except a headache, or in the case of an old boyfriend Neil, chlamydia. She had no valuable jewellery. There was once a ring that her mother had given her, but she'd had to sell it. She would've liked to have kept it as a memory of her.

         'I hope you'll be comfortable there Marilyn,' she said.  'You're surrounded by all that tempting food, try not to binge.' She assumed the film star had more will power than she had. She started making herself a cup of tea. Jamie, her nine-year-old son, had hidden the sugar again. Her sister Gillian would be dropping him back soon.

         The cupboard was still open and Marilyn's dreamy eyes gazed over the room.

         'I have to tidy up before Gillian gets here,' Carol said to Marilyn. 'My sister's....hard work.' There were so many adjectives you could use to describe Gillian. 'You won't like her,' Carol said.

         Then, 'I'm talking to a poster.' Carol sat at the table with her  tea. 

         She wanted to tell Marilyn about the big problem that was on her mind. But she didn't know the film star well enough yet.

         The door bell rang. Gillian and Jamie had arrived. Gillian wore a white vest top and white jeans. It was early April, too cold for a vest top. Gillian smiled confidently and ran her hand up one of the straps on her top.          She's always trying to remind me that she's so much better looking than me, Carol thought.

         'I've got a picture for you Mum,' Jamie said, waving a piece of paper with brightly-coloured paint on it. 'It's of my dream home, a massive castle in the countryside.'

         Gillian gave Carol a sneer because obviously Carol would never be able to provide that. Jamie ran inside.

         'Can I come round later? I've got something for you. I think you'll like it,' Gillian said.  Carol knew she wasn't allowed to say no. She often wished Gillian lived further away.

         'Jamie's already had his supper,' Gillian said. 'We had home-made lasagne. It took hours to make, but it was worth it because the kids loved it. Jamie kept saying he wished he had food like that at home.'

         When Gillian left Carol went to find Jamie. He stood in the kitchen waiting for her, holding the letter that had been on the table.

         'You've got another one,' he said.

         She had meant to put it in the drawer with the others. She snatched it away from him. 

         'Why do you keep all those letters in there?' He pointed at the drawer. 'Don't you want to open them? Who are they from?'

         He must think they're something to do with his dad, she thought.

         'They're just letters from somebody I don't like,' she said.

         'Why don't you throw them away?'

         'Do you like my new poster?' To distract him she opened the cupboard.

          'Who is that, Mum?'

         'A friend of mine.'

         He giggled. 'Don't be silly,' he said.

         She loved the way he smiled with such energy. His positivity made the room seem less dingy for a moment.

         'She's not as pretty as you,' he said.

          A tear rolled down her face because compared to Marilyn, she looked like a puddle of vomit. It was crucial that he didn't see she was crying. 'Why don't you go and watch Harry Potter for a bit?' she said.

         Gillian was coming at eight. At a quarter to eight Carol took all the crisps and Penguins out of the cupboard and put them in a carrier bag. The bag went in the usual hiding place under her pillow.

         Her sister arrived at eight on the dot carrying a big pink file. You could set your watch by Gillian. 'I'm punctual because I've got a tidy mind. You need one if you want to get things done,' Gillian always said. But it was more like tiny than tiny.

         Gillian came into the kitchen and pulled a face. She scanned the room like a police officer looking for a hidden stash of drugs. 'Why don't you let me pay for you to get a cleaner?' she said. 'Den got the contract for the bingo hall, so I feel like spending money. The cost of a cleaner will be a drop in the ocean for us, anyway.'

         Carol couldn't remember a single time she had seen her sister, when Gillian hadn't referred to how much money Den was making. 'What's in the file?' Carol said, to avoid discussing cleaners.