‘What did you wish for?’ I asked.
‘It won’t come true if I tell you,’ she said.
‘Oh, go on, please,’ I begged her.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Jodie, licking her lips.
‘I’ll tell you what I wished,’ I said.
‘I know what that will be,’ said Jodie. ‘I won’t say it properly because then your wish won’t come true either, but I bet it involves you and me, and Melchester College, and I expect there’s a “happily ever after’’ at the end.’
She’d guessed my wish, word for word.
‘Oh, you!’ I said. ‘So is that what you wished too?’
Jodie smiled mysteriously. I could never get her to tell me anything if she didn’t want to. No one could ever guess what Jodie was thinking.
She started singing some silly love song about wishes, and then we all joined in, singing old Abba and Beatles and Queen songs, all Dad’s favourites, and Mum joined in too, jiggling up and down in the car, doing arm gestures.
‘Mum!’ I said. ‘You’re good at it!’
‘She was always a right little raver on the dance floor,’ said Dad.
‘We’ll have to go dancing again sometime, Joe,’
said Mum. ‘You’re not a bad dancer yourself.’
Jodie and I groaned. Dad was a seriously embarrassing dancer. He waved his arms like a windmill and kicked his legs out sideways.
‘Maybe Melchester College will have a ball,’ Jodie joked.
‘I think they have a leavers’ dance,’ said Mum.
‘There was a photo in the brochure.’
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‘Well, we’re not leavers,’ said Dad. ‘We’re joiners.
Now, I think we come off the motorway soon, at junction thirteen. You’ll have to have a squint at the map and help me, Sharon.’
Mum was generally good at navigating, but this time we got hopelessly lost. We drove down one country road after another, sometimes passing a village shop or a converted church or a row of cottages, but then we were into true countryside, with isolated lonely lanes, tangling branches over our heads, a thick leaf canopy casting us into an odd green bloom.
‘It’s like the picture of a fairyland in one of my books,’ I said. ‘Look, even the trees have got all knobbly bits so that they look like weird faces.’
‘Watch out for their roots, they’re reaching out to grab us,’ said Jodie, turning her own arms into tree roots and snatching at me. ‘Ooh! What was that?
Did you see that little greeny-blue thing flying past? Watch it doesn’t get in the window. Its little face was all squinty and evil. Maybe it’s going to sting you.’ She nipped at me now, making me squeal.
‘Stop it, Jodie. You’re scaring your sister,’ Mum said sharply.
‘I’m not really scared. It’s just fun, Mum,’ I said.
‘Well, give over, both of you, you’re getting on my nerves,’ said Mum. ‘Joe, it looks like we’re driving to the ends of the earth. This can’t be right. It’s not even a real road, it’s more a grass track. I think we’d better turn back.’
‘Let’s see where we get to,’ said Dad. ‘Anyway, we can’t do a U-turn, there’s not room. We’ll end up in the ditch.’
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‘And so the intrepid family drove on and on into the gloom, on through the night, on through the next day, further and further and further down the long and winding road, until it dawned on them they were never ever going to come to the end,’ said Jodie dramatically.
‘Shut up,’ I said, giving her a little shove.
I knew she was joking, of course, but she had a way of making it all seem horribly real.
‘Don’t say “Shut up’’, Pearl, it sounds so coarse.
Say “Be quiet’’. And Jodie, you be quiet. We’ve all had enough of you.’
Jodie did a silent pantomime of being quiet, pretending to tie a gag around her mouth, making her eyes pop.
We turned down yet another lane, and then another, and then a very windy one up a hill, so we were thrown this way and that, like a fairground ride.
‘We’d better have another squint at the map, Shaz. You’re right, we’ve gone wrong somewhere,’
said Dad.
‘I can’t look at the atlas, I’m feeling sick from all these twists and turns,’ said Mum.
‘You take a look then, Jodie,’ said Dad. ‘Are you a hot shot at map-reading, pet?’
‘Jodie! Jodie, your dad’s talking to you.’
‘Mmm,’ said Jodie, pointing to her lips.
Mum had forgotten all about telling her to be quiet. She reached round and flapped the atlas at Jodie, tapping her about the shoulders.
‘Don’t be so cheeky, miss! Oh God, I feel so sick.
Joe, you’re going to have to stop the car.’
Then Jodie yelled and pointed.
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‘For pity’s sake, what now?’ said Mum. ‘Joe, stop.
I’m going to throw up any minute.’
Dad stopped the car at the top of the hill. He pointed too. ‘Oh, my!’ he said.
I craned forwards in the gap between Mum and Dad and saw for myself. There, below us, was Melchester College.
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She kept giving us odd waves, turning her hands.
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4
It shone in the sunlight like a true fairytale palace.
There were houses to the right and left of the vast green grounds, but the college itself towered above them all, its domes and pinnacles and turrets and tower etching a complicated pattern in the air.
‘Oh, glory!’ said Mum. She took deep breaths, her hand over her mouth.
‘You’re not really going to be sick, are you?’ said Dad.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Mum. She gave a little belch, though she tried hard to smother it.
‘Pardon me! This is the start of our whole new life.’
‘It’s better than Mansion Towers,’ I said to Jodie.
‘Oh, it’s so lovely!’
Jodie reached out and held my hand tight. ‘I’m glad you like it, Pearl,’ she said.
‘You like it too? You must do.’
‘Yeah, it’s great. If you like that sort of thing.’
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‘Do you think we really might have a bedroom in the tower?’
‘Let’s hope,’ said Jodie.
‘Don’t be silly, girls. We have our own quarters in the basement,’ Mum said briskly.
‘The servants’ quarters?’ said Jodie.
‘No, it’s a properly converted flat. And we’re not servants, we’re management,’ said Mum.
‘You what?’ said Jodie. ‘Come off it, Mum!’
‘Joe, what is your official title?’ said Mum.
‘I’m the Site Manager,’ said Dad. He nodded at Jodie, sticking his tongue out. ‘There, miss! I’m one of the posh nobs now.’
‘And I’m the Food and Beverage Manager,’ said Mum. She enunciated the word Manager with particular emphasis. ‘So we’re management, Jodie, do you understand? I shall even have staff under me – two girls to help with the cooking and cleaning.’
‘You’re got them already – us!’
‘No, your job is to pull yourself together, make the most of this golden opportunity, adjust your attitude, mind your manners and work hard,’ said Mum.
‘Aye, aye, F and B Manager,’ said Jodie, saluting.
She spluttered with laughter.
Dad gave her a look. ‘You’re overstepping the mark, my girl,’ he said. ‘Still, we’re all in a bit of a tizz. OK then, my three girls – wagons roll!’
He started up the
car and we drove down the steep hill towards the college. I held onto Jodie’s hand as we got nearer and nearer. There was just one road lined with trees – no sign of any other houses.
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‘I wonder where the nearest village is,’ said Dad.
‘Not much chance of me nipping down the pub. And what about all your food supplies, Shaz?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that. It’s an awful nickname. Call me by my proper name now, Sharon. And there’s no worries about food, they’ll deliver, silly,’ said Mum.
‘But where will we go?’ said Jodie.
‘What do you mean?’ said Mum, gazing ahead.
She was staring at Melchester College as if it was a heavenly vision. She was still very pale from feeling carsick. She mopped her forehead with a tissue.
‘What about going to films? Going to McDonald’s? Going shopping?’ said Jodie, her voice high and piercing.
‘I expect I can run you into the nearest town on Saturdays,’ Dad said quickly.
‘But how will I meet up with friends?’ said Jodie.
‘Your friends will be here,’ said Mum serenely.
‘You’ll make lovely new friends in Melchester College.’
‘No I won’t,’ Jodie muttered. ‘I don’t want to be friends with all the baby posh nobs.’
‘ Jodie!’ said Mum.
‘Hey, hey, she’s just a bit anxious, that’s all. It’s going to be a big change for all of us,’ said Dad. he sounded a bit anxious himself. ‘I didn’t realize it was going to be quite as isolated.’
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ said Mum.
‘Well, yes, it is,’ said Dad.
We got to the great gates at the head of a long gravel driveway; elaborate wrought-iron gates just like the ones in my fantasies of Mansion Towers.
‘Open sesame!’ said Dad.
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The gates stayed closed. Dad tried giving a tentative peep on his car horn, as if he thought some magic gatekeeper would appear out of thin air and open them. We all peered up at the gates. They were attached to very high railings with sharp spikes at the top.
‘Maybe it’s a sign, a dire warning. We’re not supposed to come here. Let’s go back home,’ said Jodie.
‘Don’t be so silly, Jodie. This is home now,’ said Mum.
‘Well, we’re clearly locked out. Unless we climb the railings. Which would be very painful. Why have they got those vicious spikes?’
‘It’s a school,’ Mum said impatiently. ‘It’s for secu-rity. They don’t want anyone dodgy getting in.’
‘Or maybe they don’t want any pupils escaping,’
said Jodie. ‘It’s like a prison.’
‘Well, whatever, how are we going to get in?’ said Dad. He tooted the horn again, sighed and got out.
He walked over to the gates and tried pushing them. They rattled but didn’t budge. The big padlock jangled.
‘They’re locked,’ said Dad.
‘We’ll phone the school and then someone will come,’ said Mum, reaching for her mobile.
‘But they’re shut for the holidays. It doesn’t look as if anyone’s here,’ said Jodie.
The grounds stretched out as far as we could see, completely empty.
‘There are lots of people still here. I spoke to the secretary only yesterday,’ said Mum. ‘She said she’d be here to welcome us. She knows we’re coming –
and our removal van, for heaven’s sake.’ She 50
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fumbled in her handbag and found a letter with the school heading.
‘Maybe Big Alf and Young Bernie got here ages ago, when the gates were open. We thought they were simple removal men, when in reality they were crazed homicidal maniacs. They parked their van and ran amok with our kitchen utensils, striking deadly blows with frying pans and carving knives. There may be little boys bleeding to death in the bushes, secretaries strangled with their own scarves, the headteacher beaten to a bloody pulp with his own cane,’ Jodie gabbled.
Mum sat with her phone pressed to her ear, flapping at her to make her shut up. Then she switched it off, sighing. ‘There’s no answer!’
‘See!’ said Jodie.
‘Will you button that lip of yours!’ said Mum.
‘And stop that swearing – I heard you say the b-word.’
‘ What word? I said bloody, but that wasn’t swearing, it was an accurate description,’ said Jodie. ‘He heard your phone call, he struggled manfully to answer it, crawling stickily through a pool of his own blood, OK? He reached up desperately, seized the phone cord, tugged with the last of his strength and then collapsed, blood spouting from his mouth like a scarlet fountain.’
‘Jodie!’
‘It gushed all the way down the stairs and it flooded the corridors until it lapped at the stout portals of the front door and then seeped out over the white marble steps.’
I shivered, squinting into the distance, trying to make out the steps. I knew Jodie was talking total 51
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nonsense but I looked for the blood even so. Then the door opened – but there was no dying headteacher, no blood, just a stout woman with a very large dog.
Dad saw her too and pressed his car horn hard.
‘Don’t, Joe! For pity’s sake,’ said Mum, her hands over her ears.
‘It’s that secretary! Miss French, the one who interviewed us! I’ve got to make her hear,’ said Dad, tooting again.
‘She’ll think you’re being so rude, tooting at her like that. I’ll call her,’ said Mum, scrambling out of the car. ‘Miss French! Miss French! So sorry to trouble you, but we need you to unlock the gates!’
Mum was shouting at the top of her voice, but trying to talk in her poshest accent, so that it sounded as if she was being strangled.
Jodie giggled. ‘Miss French and her hound from hell! We’ll hear it howling as it’s chained up at night. It will smell our fresh girly smell and break free of its chains. We’ll hear its clawed feet padding along the corridors.’
‘It’ll have to swim along the corridors through the river of blood,’ I said, trying to shut her up.
I thought I loved dogs but this one looked enormous, even from a distance. Miss French must have heard Mum and Dad because she started striding towards them, her dog bounding along ahead of her.
She had a long, long way to walk. She kept giving us odd waves, turning her hands.
‘It’s like she’s going, Dodgy,’ said Jodie.
When she got a little nearer, we heard what she was shouting.
‘Just turn!’ she bellowed.
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‘Turn?’ said Mum, and she turned uncertainly, spinning right round, looking foolish.
‘ Turn? ’ said Dad. ‘Oh, Lord!’
He pulled the padlock and chain. They swung down, only attached to one of the struts. Dad reached up to the ornate metal handle on the gates.
He turned it and pushed hard. The gates opened!
Dad went bright red and hit his head with the palm of his hand.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Joe!’ said Mum. ‘What will she think of us!’
‘How could I have been such a noodle?’ said Dad.
Miss French carried on striding, shaking her head now.
‘Oh, Miss French, we’re so sorry! You must think us idiots!’ Mum burbled.
‘Not at all,’ she said, though she didn’t sound convincing. ‘Down, Shep, down!’
Shep the dog was leaping up, barking at Dad for all he was worth. His lips were bared, showing his sharp teeth.
‘Hello, boy. Good dog!’ Dad said nervously.
I cowered in the car. Shep seemed as big as me and fifty times as fierce, more wild wolf than pet.
&nbs
p; But Jodie shot out of the car and bent down, holding out her arms. Shep veered crazily round and round Dad and then ran headlong at Jodie. He hurled himself into her arms, slobbering all over her as if she was a plate of pork chops.
‘ Down, Shep,’ said Miss French. ‘Are you deaf, mad dog?’
‘Watch he doesn’t bite, Jodie!’ said Dad.
‘He’s not going to bite, are you, pal?’ said Jodie, happily wrestling with him.
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‘Don’t let him lick your face, dear,’ Mum said tensely.
‘He’s just giving me a good wash,’ said Jodie.
‘Shep’s clearly fallen for you, young lady,’ said Miss French. ‘He can be a bit overwhelming if you’re nervous of dogs.’ She looked at me. I was still in the car. She could only see my face and my velvet Alice band. I think she misjudged my age.
‘Come and say hello to Old Shep, poppet. He’s a friendly old doggie,’ she said in that loud bright tone people use to toddlers.
‘Out you get and say good morning to Miss French, Pearl,’ said Mum.
I got out, feeling shy and silly – and still scared of Shep. He started barking at me, straining to jump out of Jodie’s arms. I felt my heart going thump thump thump underneath my T-shirt.
‘It’s OK, Pearl, he’s not going to hurt you,’ said Jodie. ‘Well, he might lick you to death.’
Miss French laughed. Mum and Dad laughed too, a little uncertainly. It felt as if they were all laughing at me. I tried to pull myself together. I reached out a trembling hand to pat Shep. He bared his big teeth again and growled. I squeaked and jumped backwards.
‘He’s only teasing you,’ said Miss French.
He looked deadly serious to me.
‘Your sister’s not a bit scared of him,’ said Miss French.
‘Better both hop back in the car, girls,’ said Dad.
‘We’ve got a lot of sorting out to do, and the removal van will be here soon.’
‘Oh, it got here over an hour ago,’ said Miss French breezily. ‘They’ve nearly finished. If you 54
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drive down round the big house, you’ll find the van at the back, just by the door to your flat.’ She looked at Jodie. She was trying to peel Shep off her but he nuzzled up close, butting her affectionately with his head. ‘How about you taking Shep for a walk with me while your mum and dad get settled in? Are you any good at throwing balls?’
My Sister Jodie Page 4