My Sister Jodie

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I’m only the best,’ said Jodie.

  ‘Don’t boast, Jodie!’ said Mum.

  ‘Well, you can throw for Shep. See if you can wear him out for me,’ said Miss French. ‘Come on.’

  She fished out a chewed-up old ball from the pocket of her quilted waistcoat and tossed it to Jodie. She caught it one-handed and threw it way into the distance. Shep reared up excitedly and hurtled after it.

  ‘You behave yourself, Jodie,’ Mum called as Jodie set off after Shep. ‘Don’t you go bothering Miss French if she’s busy.’

  Jodie waved in acknowledgement but didn’t turn round. Miss French didn’t even bother to do that.

  ‘Well,’ said Mum. She shook her head.

  ‘Our Jodie’s obviously made a big impression,’

  said Dad.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Mum. ‘She’s a strange woman, that Miss French.’

  ‘I think she’s OK,’ said Dad. ‘Seems quite friendly.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Mum. ‘She’s a bit full of herself.

  Bossing us about when she’s only the secretary, after all.’

  ‘Still, she’s that type, isn’t she?’ said Dad, getting into the car and switching the engine back on. ‘I feel a total idiot, not sussing out how to open the 55

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  gate. What will she think of me, when I’m supposed to be the general handyman?’

  ‘We weren’t to know,’ said Mum. ‘I don’t appreciate her dragging Jodie off like that. When is she going to deliver her back?’

  ‘Maybe she’s some weird alien in disguise and Shep is an alien pet robot programmed to capture Jodie, and the moment they’re out of sight they’ll transform her and she’ll be an alien too,’ I said.

  Dad chuckled as he started driving, but Mum glared at me.

  ‘Don’t you start on those silly horror stories, Pearl. We hear enough of that nonsense from Jodie.’

  ‘She’s only making up a story, Shaz – Sharon. Go on, Pearl, tell us more.’

  ‘No, don’t encourage her. You make up something nice, Pearl, if you really have to start telling stories.’

  I hunched up in the back and made up my own story inside my head about a girl called Pearl who used to get scared of stuff all the time, but then she found a special pearl ring, and the moment she slipped it on it gave her super powers and she was never scared of anything again, especially not animals. Lions fawned at her feet, tigers rubbed round her legs, elephants nuzzled her neck with their trunks – and howling werewolves whimpered plaintively for her attention.

  I got distracted as we got closer and closer to Melchester College. The gravel crunched and crackled as Dad drove the car slowly past the front while Mum and I craned out necks sideways, staring up at the great grey gothic building, 56

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  awestruck. Then we turned round the corner, and immediately the house lost some of its splendour and dignity. There was scaffolding and piles of bricks and several boarded-up windows.

  Portakabins stood in a row and there were little sheds and huts in odd corners. Several cars were parked in a little bay, and there was our furniture van, doors open, with Big Alf and Young Bernie balancing down the ramp, holding Mum’s dressing table.

  ‘Mind those gilt handles!’ said Mum, rushing out of the car.

  Dad and I followed her, staring round, bewil-dered. In such strange surroundings Big Alf and Young Bernie seemed like old friends.

  ‘You took your time, mate,’ Big Alf yelled jovially to Dad. ‘Did you go by the scenic route? Like, via Scotland?’

  ‘Ha ha, very droll,’ said Dad. ‘No, we thought we’d let you chaps have a clear run without us getting in your way.’

  Mum was getting very much in their way now.

  She followed them down the narrow steps to the basement.

  ‘You’re not putting that in the living room, are you? It goes in the bedroom, it’s part of my bedroom suite. Dear, dear, you’ve put the good living-room cabinet in the kitchenette!’

  ‘We thought it was your kitchen dresser, love,’

  said Young Bernie. ‘Looks good in there.’

  None of our furniture looked good anywhere, even in the right rooms. Our flat wasn’t a proper flat at all. It was a series of small rooms down a long dark corridor. There were windows in the 57

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  rooms, but they didn’t let in much light. When Big Alf and Young Bernie struggled past, we could only see their shoes. There was old grey-green mottled lino on the floor, and the walls were painted cream, just like a hospital. The biggest room was still on the small side. Our sofa and chairs were squashed in around the television. The table was piled high with boxes containing our books and DVDs and pictures and ornaments. There was an alcove at the back with a cooker and a little sink.

  ‘How can Mum cook for everyone here?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Pearl. I’ll have a proper big profes-sional kitchen. This is just for us,’ said Mum.

  It looked too poky, even for the four of us.

  ‘It’ll look much bigger without the cabinet crammed in like that,’ said Mum. ‘Alf, Bernie, can you possibly move the cabinet over to the other side of the living room?’

  ‘We could – possibly,’ said Young Bernie.

  ‘It’s a bit of a liberty,’ said Alf. ‘You didn’t let us know that your gaff was down all them stairs in the basement. It’s a bit much expecting us to play musical chairs with your furniture. It’s our job to deliver it all in one piece. We’ve just about done that. It’s your job to rearrange it if you don’t like the way we’ve set it out.’

  ‘Now be a sport, lads. I’ve got a bad back,’ Dad wheedled. ‘Just the cabinet? You can see it’s fretting her. You know what women are like – she’ll try to move it herself and do herself a mischief.’

  Mum glared at him furiously, even though Alf and Bernie started moving the cabinet for her, sighing heavily. She didn’t thank them, she simply stuck her head in the air and dragged me off by the 58

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  scruff of my T-shirt to investigate the bedrooms with her. They were very close together. Jodie and I would have to whisper right in each other’s ears if we wanted to share secrets.

  Both bedrooms had yellowy-cream wallpaper and ugly green and yellow curtains. They reminded me of a silly song they sang at school: Green and yellow, Green and yellow, Oh Mum be quick, I’m going to be sick. The carpet was green too, but a different dark olive shade. Mum rubbed at it with her foot as if she could change its colour with a little determination.

  ‘We’ll get new curtains and stuff,’ she said, fingering them. ‘They’ll be easy enough to run up on a sewing machine. I’m sure the school will have one.’

  I stared around the little room. It didn’t look as if it could ever be even half as nice as our bedroom at home. I was so disappointed. I’d been crazy enough to imagine us living in splendour, in great airy rooms with flock wallpaper and big casement windows with velvet curtains. I’d even wondered if we might have chandeliers.

  ‘We’ll brighten it all up for you,’ said Mum. She tried to keep her voice bright too, but she was looking around as if it was all too much for her. She rubbed her lower lip anxiously, suddenly looking like a little girl.

  ‘Yes, it’ll be fine, Mum,’ I said quickly. ‘Shall I start unpacking our stuff then?’

  ‘That’s my good girl,’ said Mum. She turned round again, doing her best to smile – but her nose was twitching. ‘Does it smell a bit funny in here?’

  ‘What sort of funny?’

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  ‘Dusty? Damp? I think we’ll give everywhere a good scrubbing first.’ Mum went to the window.

  ‘Look, all smeary!’ She put her head to the curtains and sniffed. ‘These are going straig
ht in the washing machine! Dear goodness, the couple before us have really let the side down. We’ll spring clean from top to bottom, get everything fresh and ship-shape. Good job we’ve got the whole summer to get organized.’ Mum gave me a sudden fierce hug.

  ‘We’ll be happy here, Pearl, you and me and Dad and Jodie. I hope she comes back soon, we need every pair of hands we can get.’

  Jodie didn’t come back for ages.

  Big Alf and Young Bernie finished heaving the last of the furniture around. Dad gave them what he thought was a big tip. Big Alf looked at the money in his palm disdainfully.

  ‘Gosh, thanks, gov. Sure you can spare it?’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘What have you done with that sister of yours?’

  Young Bernie said to me.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘I bet she’s run away already,’ said Young Bernie.

  ‘She’s a bit of a live wire, your Jodie. God knows what she’ll do in a dump like this. You folks must be mental.’

  Maybe he wouldn’t have been so rude if Dad had given them a larger tip. Dad looked as if he’d like to snatch it straight back. Mum was outraged.

  ‘I’ll thank you not to make personal comments about my daughter,’ she said. ‘And you’re simply showing your ignorance if you refer to Melchester College as a dump.’ She said it as if it was her own property and she was the lady of the house.

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  Young Bernie made a silly ‘Ooooh!’ noise, wiggling his eyebrows, but he looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Come on, mate,’ he said to Big Alf, and they went without saying goodbye.

  ‘What a pair of ill-mannered louts,’ said Mum.

  ‘I told you we’d be better off hiring a van and doing the job ourselves,’ said Dad.

  ‘You’d do your back in,’ said Mum.

  ‘Even so. The way he looked down his nose at my tenner! Who does he think he is, eh? And how dare he talk about Jodie like that?’

  ‘Where’s she got to, then? You’ll have to go and start looking for her soon, Joe. That Miss French is probably dying to get rid of her. She must have finished walking the dog by now.’

  ‘That dog wouldn’t tire if you took it on a fifty-mile hike,’ said Dad. ‘Old Shep! That’s an Elvis song. Do you think Miss French is an Elvis fan?’

  We all sniggered at this. Miss French looked very much a lady for classical music, with her sensible grey bob and her navy waistcoat and pleated skirt and silk scarf – but when Jodie came back, we found it wasn’t a joke.

  ‘She’s got this amazing Elvis card on her mantel-piece, and when you press his lips, his voice sings,

  ‘Can’t help falling in love with you,’ and his heart lights up inside his white sparkly suit – it’s so cool!’

  said Jodie, jumping around and demonstrating.

  ‘Don’t start one of your silly stories, Jodie,’ said Mum.

  ‘It’s true, totally one hundred per cent true,’ said Jodie, peering around our flat, running in and out of rooms. ‘It pongs a bit, doesn’t it?’ she said, holding her nose.

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  ‘Don’t use that word! We’ll give everywhere a good spring clean tomorrow – and you can help, madam,’ said Mum.

  ‘Where are Big Alf and Young Bernie? Have they gone already? Oh, I wanted to say goodbye!’

  ‘It sounds as if you’ve said quite enough to them already,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not to chat up workmen like that, do you hear me?’

  ‘Dad’s a workman. Can’t I chat to him?’ said Jodie, reaching up to put her arms round Dad.

  ‘You chat all you like, sweetheart,’ said Dad, giving her a cuddle. ‘Where did you get to, then?

  How could you walk far in those crazy shoes?’

  ‘We weren’t just walking. We went back to her house and she gave me a cup of tea. That’s how I saw her Elvis card. And her aquarium with bright blue fish – they were so pretty. And her rude painting of a great pink naked woman.’

  ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense!’ said Mum.

  ‘You wait and see. We’re all going to have supper together so maybe she’ll ask you back to her house after for coffee.’

  ‘What do you mean, supper?’

  ‘With Mr and Mrs Wilberforce, the headteacher and his wife. Us and Miss French.’

  ‘Us?’ I said.

  ‘Are you sure, Jodie?’ said Dad. ‘They wouldn’t ask us for supper, would they?’

  ‘They haven’t asked! We haven’t had an invita-tion or anything,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m telling you, Miss French said. Tonight, half past seven, at the Wilberforces’ house. They live down the drive at the back. Miss French does too.’

  ‘They’ve got their own houses?’ said Dad, 62

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  glancing around our room. ‘What, modern ones?’ He sounded envious.

  ‘It’s much better living in a real Victorian mansion,’ I said quickly, though it was hard to remember we were in Melchester College in these dark basement rooms.

  Mum seized hold of Jodie. ‘Are you still just kidding us?’ she said.

  ‘Mum, what’s your problem? Why would I make it up?’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Mum. ‘Well, we’ll all have to have a bath; we’re filthy. I wonder what the hot-water situation is like? Then we’ll have to get the cases unpacked, find some decent clothes – and where on earth are the iron and ironing board?’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Shaz. No one’s going to expect us to look spick and span when we’ve only just got here,’

  said Dad, but he was anxiously trying to clean his nails as he talked.

  ‘ Don’t call me Shaz, you know I hate it. Sharon.

  Jodie, Pearl, don’t stand there like lemons. Go and get your clothes unpacked. Pearl, you wear your pretty embroidered skirt, and Jodie, you’d better wear your trousers – your skirts are way too short and tight.

  And you’re not wearing those shoes, do you hear?’

  ‘Miss French likes them. She says they’re saucy,’

  said Jodie.

  ‘She’s the secretary,’ said Mum, as if it meant lavatory cleaner. ‘She’s not the head of the school.

  Mr Wilberforce will not be impressed by ridiculous tacky high heels on a young girl. Now find your good trousers and your black shoes and put them on, and no arguing.’

  None of us dared argue with Mum when she used 63

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  that tone of voice. We scrabbled around looking for our clothes while Mum had the first bath. Dad rolled his eyes at us.

  ‘I wish she didn’t get in such a huff,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the Wilberforces are simply trying to save us trouble our first night.’

  ‘What’s he like, Dad? You met him at that interview. Is he dead posh?’ I asked.

  ‘Ever so, but he seems a very nice bloke,’ said Dad. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. ‘It’s peculiar, all this. It all seems to have happened so quick, like. We’re bound to feel a bit fish-out-of-water at first. But it will be worth it. We just want to do our best for you girls.’ Dad put his arms round us.

  ‘Joe!’ Mum called urgently from the bathroom.

  ‘Joe, come here!’

  ‘Oh Gawd, what now?’ said Dad.

  ‘I’ve just thought,’ said Mum. ‘I’m the cook. What if they’re expecting me to do the supper?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You’re here to cook for the children, not the Wilberforces,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t look so worried, Shaz – Sharon, sorry sorry! You’re my girl too, you know. Come here, give us a cuddle.’

  Mum protested, but we heard splashing and then a kiss. Jodie pulled a face at me and I giggled.

  ‘This isn’t such a bad place, you know,’ Jodie said softly.

  I glanced at the bleak wallpaper and the bile-green and vomit-y
ellow curtains.

  ‘Not here. Though we’ll make it look better, you’ll see. No, I meant outside, all the grounds. Miss French showed me around the garden bit. There are kitchen gardens with heaps of fruit, and this 64

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  funny old gardener let me pick a whole handful of raspberries. There are huge great woods too. It’s like we’re in one of those old-fashioned storybooks, Two Have Fun at Melchester College.’

  ‘So you don’t mind us being here?’

  ‘Well, I hate being stuck in the middle of nowhere. I’m going to go mad not being able to go out anywhere. But it might be all right while it’s just us. We’ll make the most of the summer, OK?’

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  ‘A very good choice’, said Mrs Wilberforce.

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  5

  We stood outside the Wilberforces’ house. It was technically a bungalow rather than a house, but very grand and spacious, with white walls and scented jasmine in terracotta pots on either side of the green front door. We stood outside the wrought-iron gate, Mum and Dad and Jodie and me. We were still pink from our baths and in our best clothes. Jodie had even been persuaded out of her red shoes.

  Mum inspected all three of us anxiously and had a little peep at herself in her powder compact. Then she checked her watch.

  ‘It’s only twenty-six minutes past,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps we’d better wait till half past.’

  ‘Why, are you worried we’ll catch Mrs Wilberforce in her knickers?’ said Dad.

  Jodie and I snorted with laughter.

  ‘Ssh!’ Mum hissed. ‘For pity’s sake, they’ll hear you. Don’t you start larking around, Joe, it won’t go 67

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  down well at all. You too, Jodie. None of your nonsense.’

  We stood there, waiting, watching Mum’s wrist-watch.

  ‘Oh dear, are you locked out again?’ said Miss French, walking up behind us in her soft rubber-soled shoes, making us all jump.