Free The Illustrated Mum by Jacqueline Wilson

found us a big book from the nonfiction section and put it in front of us. Big pictures of different dolphins alternated with chunks of text. I looked carefully at the pictures, Oliver read the words. It was quite companionable.
    We found the bottlenose dolphin.
    “
My
one hasn't got lips like that, though. Mine is much prettier.”
    “Your one?” said Oliver.
    “Oh. Well. There's this picture of one,” I said quickly.
    “On your mother?”
    I hesitated and then nodded.
    “I think your mum is
so
beautiful,” said Oliver.
    I stared at him hard to make sure he wasn't having me on. But Oliver looked totally earnest, blinking rapidly, his long tufty bangs way past the rim of his glasses.
    “I think she's beautiful too,” I said.
    “I especially love her tattoos. They look so special. They're not a bit like the usual ordinary red and blue sort.”
    “Those are just flash tattoos. You get the designs on the walls of tattoo parlors and they're copied onto your arm. Boring. But my mum has custom tattoos, ones she's designed herself. They're all to commemorate something special in her life.”
    “And she's got a dolphin to commemorate you?”
    “Yep. It's a sort of magic mythical dolphin, not a common old bottlenose.”
    “Could I … could I see it properly?” Oliver asked, breathing hard.
    “What? On my mum?” I hesitated. I was used to thinking that Oliver was just awful old Owly. It seemed ultraweird that he was an interesting person inside.
    He wasn't a wise choice for a friend. All the other kids teased him, so they'd tease me too. But then they did already.
    “Do you want to come round to my house sometime, Oliver?”
    “Yes, please!”
    “What about your mum? Will she let you?”
    “She'll be thrilled that I've got a friend,” said Oliver. “Well … not exactly,” I said, thinking he was being a bit presumptuous.
    “Can I come after school today?” said Oliver.
    I thought quickly. I wasn't sure if Marigold would be better yet.
    “Maybe not today. My mum gets these moods,” I said.
    “So does mine,” said Oliver. “Headaches and crying and stuff. I have to be extra quiet and make her a cup of tea and give her some aspirin.”
    “Really?” I said, my heart beating. I hadn't realized other mums could act like that too.
    “It's since she and my dad split up. He's got a girlfriend.” Oliver whispered the word “girlfriend” as if it were shocking. “I don't like her.”
    “So? My mum's had lots of boyfriends. Star and me have hated nearly all of them.”
    “What about your dad? Do you see him on Saturdays?”
    “No. I don't ever see him.” “I don't always want to see my dad either,” said Oliver. “Dolphin, do you promise I can come to tea at your house?”
    “Well. Yes. Sometime. But we don't always have
ordinary
tea. Like it might just be cakes.”
    “Cool! I love cakes.”
    “Or fish and chips from the chippy or pizza or something. We don't really have proper cooked teas like other people.”
    “You are
lucky
,” said Oliver.
    He really wasn't taking the mickey.
    “Maybe we
are
friends,” I said.
    I showed off about my new friend Oliver to Star after school. She didn't seem particularly impressed. We were both tense as we opened the front door and went up the stairs. Marigold had spells when she went on drinking every day. But this time she wasn't slumped on the sofa or throwing up in the bathroom. She was singing in the kitchen, her red hair newly washed, her eyes carefullyoutlined so they looked even bigger, green as green. She was wearing her best black jeans and a tight black top that showed off her figure. Oliver was right. Marigold looked the most beautiful mother in the world.
    “Hi, darlings,” she said cheerily. “Are you hungry? I've got some juice and chocolate cookies‘
shop
ones, Star.”
    “Great!” I said, starting to gobble straightaway.
    Star nibbled her cookie tentatively.
    “Good?” said Marigold. “And there's cold chicken and heaps of salad stuff