Secrets and Dreams

by Jean Ure

  “I’m only telling you,” said Rachel, “cos you’re my friend.”

  I nodded. “Right.” I couldn’t help wondering where her dad was, but I didn’t quite like to ask. I wouldn’t have wanted to upset her. Mum is always telling me not to be pushy.

  “Hey!” Rachel suddenly leaned forward and plunged a hand under the bed. “Look what I’ve got us for later!”

  “Oh, yuck,” I said. “You can’t be serious?”

  She’d pulled out a can of sardines and a tin of condensed milk. Plus a tin opener. She was serious. She actually expected me to eat sardines dunked in condensed milk!

  “It’ll be our own private midnight feast.” She beamed at me. “Even Auntie Helen doesn’t know about it! I’ve got something else as well.” She slid her hand back under the bed and scrabbled round for a bit. “See?”

  She was waving something at me. I said, “Playing cards?”

  She nodded, blissfully. “I found them. I thought you could teach me that game you were telling me about.”

  I said, “What game?” I was at a loss. I couldn’t remember telling her about any game.

  “When we first met, and I said I’d had chicken pox and you said ‘snap’.”

  “Oh. Yes!” It all came back to me. “It’s not really a grown-up game,” I said. “It’s for little kids.” And then, hurriedly, in case she thought I was putting her down: “We could play it, if you really want.”

  “I want to learn,” insisted Rachel.

  “There isn’t much to it,” I said. “All you do, you just share out the cards so we each have a pile, then we turn them over one at a time, and if two cards are the same, like two sixes or two jacks or something, the first to shout ‘Snap!’ picks up all the cards in the pile and the winner is the person that ends up with the whole lot. Dead easy! I’ll show you.” I dealt out the cards. “D’you want to go first?”

  Rachel said, “OK.” She seemed doubtful. Why was she crinkling her forehead like that? What didn’t she understand?

  “What’s a jack?” she said.

  Omigod! Didn’t she know anything? Patiently I gathered all the cards up again and showed her the jacks, and the kings and the queens. “And these are aces,” I said. Rachel shook her head, wonderingly. I could see that it was all just completely new to her. Like computers. Whoever heard of anybody not even knowing how to switch a computer on? It was like she’d been brought up in a different century. Still, she was really eager to learn. She laughed when she finally got the idea of how to play Snap.

  “This is fun!” she said. “I’ve got another game here!” She dived back under the bed. “Snakes and Ladders! D’you know that one?”

  I didn’t tell her that Snakes and Ladders was also a game for little kids. She was so happy that she’d learnt to play Snap!

  “I put stuff under here,” she said, “so Gran can’t find it. Her knees are bad. She can’t get down here.”

  Wonderingly I said, “What would she do if she could?”

  “If she found them?” Rachel’s eyes went big. “She’d be shocked!”

  I wanted to ask why. Why would she be shocked? What was shocking about Snakes and Ladders? But I was scared that Rachel would suddenly clam up, like she so often did when I got too curious. At least she had started to talk, even if I couldn’t make much sense of it. It would probably be best if I didn’t push her. Mum would be proud of me! She is always saying that I am like a bull in a china shop, just trampling all over everything without bothering to think.

  “What’s this?” I said, tugging at a cardboard box that was sticking out from under the bed.

  “Oh!” Rachel immediately snatched it. “Those are my photographs. I found them in one of those bin things. Things people throw stuff away in.”

  “A skip,” I said.

  “Yes. Someone was clearing out an office. It wasn’t stealing! They were just being chucked out. I find lots of things that way. You’d be amazed what people get rid of! Like all my ornaments.”

  I turned to look at them. I could see, now, that most were damaged in some way. The donkey with the straw hat had an ear missing and the bear standing on its hind legs had a chip in its side.

  Defensively, Rachel said, “There isn’t any reason to throw things away just cos they’re not new any more.”

  “I suppose not,” I said.

  “Gran doesn’t believe in spending money on fribbles. That’s what she calls them. She doesn’t really approve of ornaments at all, but this is my room and Auntie Helen says I can have fribbles if I want. Shall we play Snakes and Ladders?”

  I said, “Oh! Yes. OK.” I was still wondering what sort of person didn’t approve of ornaments.

  “I’ve been reading what it says on the box,” said Rachel. “I think I understand the rules … You go down the snakes and up the ladders. Is that right?”

  I agreed that it was. “But we need dice. Are there some dice in there?”

  “You mean these little things?”

  I said, “Ye-e-e-s.”

  This really was the oddest sleepover I’d ever been to! I mean, who plays Snap and Snakes and Ladders when they’re thirteen years old? Actually, to my surprise – though I would never have admitted it to someone like Fawn, who can be so superior – I found that I was quite enjoying it. Rachel grew all fizzy with excitement, whizzing down snakes at breakneck speed and shouting “Yay!” every time she shot up a ladder. Her enthusiasm was catching. Before I knew it, I was also whizzing down snakes and crying “Yay!” as I shot up ladders. I didn’t dare to think what Nat would have to say about it. She was someone else I wouldn’t tell!

  At eleven o’clock, Rachel declared, very solemnly, that now we had to drink cocoa.

  “Why’s that?” I said.

  “Cos it’s what you do. It’s all part of it.”

  Together we crept along the dark passage to the kitchen. Rachel put her finger to her lips and said, “Sh! Careful not to wake Gran.”

  “Which is her room?” I whispered.

  “That one.” Rachel pointed. “But it’s all right, she’s a bit deaf.”

  The kitchen was really horrible. Even dingier than the one we’d had in our old flat, before Mum and Dad won the lottery. Mum had always complained that the kitchen was like a cupboard. This one was more like a coffin. It was creepy! I was glad when we’d made the cocoa and could go back to Rachel’s room.

  As we sat sipping our cocoa, Rachel suddenly said, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  I swallowed a mouthful of cocoa far too hot, and spluttered, “Boyfriend?” It was just so unexpected, coming from Rachel.

  “I know they don’t in Enid Blyton,” said Rachel, “but Auntie Helen says things have changed since then. Like, these days most people our age would have boyfriends, right?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “I mean, some people do. Not everyone.”

  “Have you?” said Rachel.

  I said, “Me?” I only repeated it to give myself a bit of time, deciding how to answer. “There was this boy at my old school I quite fancied. John Arthur. We went out for a bit.”

  “What happened? Did you break up?”

  I said, “No, we moved and things just sort of fizzled out. And then I came to St With’s.”

  Rachel nodded, understandingly. “No boys. Would you rather be at a school with boys?”

  “Dunno.” I frowned, as I thought about it. “Sometimes I think I would. But then it kind of puts pressure on you.”

  “Mm.” Rachel considered it a moment. “I bet Fawn’s got a boyfriend,” she said.

  I said, “Oh, well, Fawn.” She was the sort of girl who always would have.

  There was a bit of a pause, like Rachel was gearing herself up to say something, then suddenly she burst out with, “Actually, I think I might have!”

  I looked at her in surprise. “A boyfriend?”

  She nodded, ecstatically. She had both hands clasped round her cocoa mug like it was some kind of sacred vessel.

  “I t
hink so,” she said. Her face had turned bright pink. She was obviously dying to tell me about it. “It’s this boy I met in a shop. I went and knocked over a bunch of stuff and he helped me pick it up and we sort of got talking and –” her face was all scrunched up and had turned from pink to a deep rose – “he asked me if I’d like to go out with him.”

  I said, “Blimey! That was quick work.”

  “We talked for absolutely ages,” Rachel assured me.

  “About what?” I couldn’t imagine Rachel talking to a boy.

  “Oh,” she said, “I don’t know. Everything.”

  “So are you going to go?”

  “D’you think I ought?”

  “It’s up to you,” I said. “Depends whether you fancy him or not.”

  A giggle forced its way out of her.

  “You do!” I crowed, triumphantly. “You fancy him!”

  Shaking with giggles, Rachel buried her nose in her cocoa mug.

  “Admit it,” I said.

  She made a little squeaking sound, which I took to be an admission.

  “Hm.” I sat cross-legged, nursing my cocoa. I wondered what Fawn would say if I told her that Rachel had a boyfriend. She’d never believe it!

  But there wasn’t any reason Rachel shouldn’t have. With her new short haircut she was really quite pretty. It was strange, all the same, to think of Rachel with a boy. This was the girl who got all excited playing Snakes and Ladders!

  “What’s his name?”

  “Danny.” She gave this beautiful smile as she said it. She now had a brown moustache on her top lip.

  “Where’s he going to take you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe we might go and have a coffee?”

  I said, “Coffee?” Having coffee is what my mum does when she meets her friends. I couldn’t imagine Fawn ever going to have a coffee. Me and John Arthur never had. It wasn’t exactly my idea of a date.

  “He’s Italian,” said Rachel. “Italians like coffee.”

  “Do you like it?” I said.

  Rachel crinkled her nose. “Not really. But it doesn’t have to be coffee! It could be, like … Coca Cola, or something.”

  I said, “OK.”

  “So do you think I should go?”

  “Don’t see why not. But what about your gran? What would she say?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t tell Gran!”

  “Probably best not,” I agreed. “Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing your gran would approve of.”

  “Gran doesn’t approve of anything,” said Rachel. “Look, it’s nearly midnight! You know what that means?”

  I said, “The witching hour!”

  “It’s when we tell ghost stories and eat the last bit of our feast.”

  “Oh, please!” I said. “Not the sardines?”

  “You have to,” said Rachel.

  “I don’t remember them doing it in Enid Blyton,” I said.

  “No, it’s in this other book I found … Girls of the Ivy Green. See?” She crawled forward and pulled a book from a pile on the floor. It was a hardback and looked like it had been written long before even my gran was born. The girls on the cover were wearing these old-fashioned tunics tied round the middle, looking like sacks of potatoes. Inside, in spidery old handwriting, it said, To Cynthia on her 10th birthday, Love from Granny, June 1919.

  “It’s nearly a hundred years old!” I said.

  “Yes,” said Rachel, “but a midnight feast is a midnight feast. It’s tradition. You sit round telling ghost stories and eating sardines and condensed milk.”

  “And then getting sick.”

  “No! You won’t get sick. You’ve got to try it. Here!”

  She was busy opening the tin of condensed milk and peeling back the top of the sardines. She held them out to me. I recoiled.

  “You first,” I said.

  “You are such a coward,” cried Rachel. “There’s nothing to it! Watch.”

  I watched as she dunked a sardine in the condensed milk and dropped it into her mouth. She chewed, contentedly.

  “Mm, ah … lovely! Now you.”

  Well, I didn’t get sick, but sardines and condensed milk is not a combination I would recommend. It is, in fact, utterly repulsive. Even Rachel gave up after her second sardine.

  “Well, I think that’s enough,” she said. “Now we’ll go to bed and tell ghost stories!”

  We both had to sleep in Rachel’s bed, all bunched up together. My last thought as I closed my eyes was, I hope I don’t have to get up in the night. I really didn’t fancy the idea of creeping down that dark passage knowing that Rachel’s horrible old gran was sleeping just the other side of the wall. It was scarier by far than any ghost story.

  When we got up next morning the old witch woman was in the kitchen drinking what looked like a cup of hot water.

  Rachel said, “Morning, Gran!” But she just got the usual grunt in reply.

  I didn’t say anything. I know Mum would have had a go at me about manners, but I didn’t see why I should be expected to make an effort when this horrible old woman couldn’t even be bothered to open her mouth. She hadn’t had a stroke and she didn’t care about her husband dying, cos nobody had liked him, anyway, so it wasn’t like she was in mourning. She was just rude!

  I was relieved when she went off and left me and Rachel to get our breakfast.

  “Is cereal OK?” said Rachel. “We could always have condensed milk with it.”

  I couldn’t tell whether she was being funny or if it was a serious suggestion.

  I said, “No, thank you!” and she giggled.

  At ten o’clock Auntie Helen arrived.

  “It’s a pity you have to go,” said Rachel. “I could have taken you into town and we could have looked for some more games. I saw one the other day called Monopoly. Do you know that one?”

  I said, “Yes, I like Monopoly.”

  “I’ll buy it!” said Rachel. “I’ll keep it here for next time.”

  “Next time,” I said, “you should come to mine.”

  The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was like an automatic reaction: I’d been to hers, so now I had to invite her back to mine. It’s what you do. It’s being polite. Except that I wasn’t sure I really wanted Rachel coming for a sleepover. Not with Nat around. I wasn’t exactly ashamed of Rachel, but there was no denying she was a bit different.

  And then I saw that her face had flushed crimson with pleasure and I immediately felt bad. She had gone to such trouble, choosing all the food and searching for games that we could play. She had done her very best to give me a good time and I had enjoyed myself in spite of the games being for little kids. We had had fun! It was only right I should ask her back. Rachel couldn’t be blamed for having a horrible old witch woman for a gran, any more than I could be blamed for having a stupid little sister. I could always have a word with Mum and get her to talk sternly to Nat beforehand. If Mum told her to behave herself, she would. Nat isn’t a bad person, just a bit thoughtless.

  Auntie Helen said that if I was ready we might as well be off. I wouldn’t actually have minded going into town with Rachel but it was a bit too late to change my mind at this stage so I said “Thank you very much for having me” to the old witch woman and picked up my bag. The old witch woman, as usual, didn’t say anything, though I think I might have heard her grunt again.

  “Don’t mind Auntie,” said Auntie Helen, as we left the flat. “She’s a woman of few words.”

  At the last minute Rachel came cantering down the hall saying that she would come with us.

  “We’re only going to the station,” said Auntie Helen.

  “Yes, but you could drop me off in town afterwards.”

  “I’ll come back for you. You stay here and keep your gran company. She hardly sees anything of you these days.”

  Rachel’s face fell, but she didn’t argue. I wondered why she couldn’t come with us. I couldn’t imagine her gran being all that bothered whether she
was there or not.

  When we reached the station Auntie Helen said that my train wasn’t due for another half-hour so she would park the car then come and wait with me in the station café. I tried saying that that was OK, I didn’t mind waiting by myself – to be honest I would have preferred it cos sometimes I find it quite difficult to know what to talk about with grown-ups – but Auntie Helen insisted.

  “The fact is, I wanted to have a word with you. About Rachel.” She led the way into the café. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that she has you for a friend! It was so lovely of you to invite her back. She’s been looking forward to your sleepover for weeks. I do hope you enjoyed it.”

  I assured her that I did.

  “I’ve been so worried about her, I can’t tell you.”

  My heart sank. I thought, Oh, please. I didn’t want to know! But Auntie Helen carried on.

  “You’re obviously close to her. You would know, if anyone would. Tell me, honestly … How is she doing?”

  I mumbled that she was doing all right.

  “Really?” Auntie Helen obviously wasn’t quite sure whether to believe me or not. “Has she made any other friends besides you? You’re the only one she ever talks about.”

  Triumphantly, cos that was something I could answer, I said, “Yes, that’s cos we both had the chicken pox and started a week late!”

  “So how does she get on with everyone else?”

  “She gets on OK,” I said. It was true, she had got on OK. Fawn and the others had been really patient with her. Until now.

  “They don’t find her … odd, in any way?”

  I squirmed. I so didn’t want to be disloyal to Rachel!

  “You see, the reason I’m asking …” said Auntie Helen, “Rachel has had a very … well, I suppose you could say a very sheltered upbringing. Not exactly what you would call normal.”

  I suppose I’d already guessed that from seeing her horrible old gran.

  “My uncle Stefan – that’s Rachel’s granddad – was a very controlling sort of person. Not to mince words, he was a bully. He bullied Rachel’s gran, which is why she’s like she is. Decades of being ground down. He bullied my dad. He bullied everyone he came into contact with.”

  I thought, Why is she telling me all this? What did she want from me?