She went to visit them for an hour or so every evening. I sometimes went too, lurking in a corner, listening to her. I didn’t mind a bit when she talked to the boys, in fact I sometimes cuddled up with Dan and his man while Jodie told everyone stories.
Dan was always a little stand-offish in his odd little outfits, but when he was dressed in his soft striped pyjamas, he seemed to lose several years and become this cuddly little baby. Even his man stopped being so freaky because Dan wrapped a big hankie round him for a nightshirt, covering up his disconcerting innards.
It was a much weirder experience going to the girls’ house because Jodie treated them exactly the way she used to treat me. In fact ‘Little Paws’ was my story, made up to celebrate the birth of my first teddy bear. I felt so proud of Jodie when all the little girls ooohed and aaahed at every aspect of the story – and yet I also wanted to clap my hands over their ears because ‘Little Paws’ belonged to me.
I caught Jodie fishing Edgar, Allan and Poe out from underneath my duvet.
‘They’re my bears, Jodie,’ I said.
‘Of course they are, baby. I just want to show them to all the littlies. I’ve made up the coolest bear story for them called “Purplelocks’’. They’ll simply love it, especially if I act it out.’
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‘You’re not acting it out with my bears,’ I said childishly.
Jodie stared at me and then laughed. ‘Who’s gone all green-eyed then?’ she said.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I snapped.
She was right, I was jealous, especially when Sakura hung on Jodie’s every word and begged to hold her hand. I’d always felt that Sakura was my special little girl but I hardly got a look-in now.
Jodie was still ostracized by most of the others in her class but she truly didn’t seem to mind now.
Both Matron and Undie complimented her on her relationship with the little ones, though Undie seemed understandably peeved. Miss French congratulated her. Mr Wilberforce took Mum and Dad to one side and told them that Jodie was doing a sterling job with the small children and seemed to be settling down at last.
‘You’re turning into a little treasure, Jodie,’ said Dad, picking her up and whirling her round, the way he did when we were little. ‘We’re so proud of you, aren’t we, Shaz?’
Mum nodded and mumbled something vague but she didn’t really praise Jodie properly. She seemed distracted, not properly focused any more. She concentrated hard when she was cooking but the rest of the time she seemed in a daze. She watched a lot of television, but she didn’t laugh at any of the sit-com jokes or shout out the answers to the quiz shows. She didn’t nag us or question us or correct our grammar. It was much more peaceful but a little weird.
Mum still got irritated when Miss French told her what to do.
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‘Pumpkins!’ Mum exploded.
‘That stupid
woman’s ordered thirty blooming pumpkins so that the little kids can carve silly faces for Halloween –
and then she wants me to make pumpkin soup and pumpkin pie and pumpkin tart and pumpkin risotto and pumpkin kiss-my-bum. What a ridiculous waste of money – pumpkins are the most tasteless, useless veg. Then she wants umpteen kilos of apples, and these aren’t even for eating –
they’re for bobbing for apples! What a waste of bloody food, pardon my French, getting kids sticking their heads underwater to bite lumps out of apples. I ask you!’
‘You have to enter into the spirit of Halloween, Mum,’ said Jodie.
‘It’s all silly American nonsense,’ said Mum. ‘It’s all rubbish, this trick-or-treating lark, little kids dressing up as ghosts and ghoulies and skeletons and pestering for money.’
‘Yay!’ said Jodie.
She started preparing all her little children for Halloween. She sweet-talked Matron into letting her have a stack of old worn sheets so that most of the little kids could have ghost costumes. She invented specific and wonderfully scary costumes for Zeph, Sakura and Dan. She stole an old-fashioned scythe from Jed’s garden shed and made Zeph a Grim Reaper. She dressed Sakura in her black gym leotard and black tights and then painted white bones all over her, turning her into a skeleton.
‘ I want to be a skellington and look like my Man,’
said Dan.
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got a better idea for you. You’re going to be a scary monkey,’ said Jodie.
She made him a papier-mâché monkey mask and purloined Dad’s old brown wool balaclava to be the fur on his head. She dressed him in a big woolly jumper and then gave him two rotting rubber hands from the toy monkeys in the attics.
‘You hang onto them inside your sleeves and offer to shake hands with people and then let go, so that they’re left holding a severed hand,’ said Jodie, demonstrating. ‘See, Dan? You’ll give people such a fright.’
Dan whooped triumphantly, turning round and round, juggling with his horrible monkey hands.
‘You’re getting them all over-excited,’ I said sourly. ‘And you’re totally mad letting Zeph near a scythe. ‘He’ll kill everyone.’
‘It’s all blunt and rusty and I’ve wrapped sellotape round it to make it safe,’ said Jodie. ‘Now, what are you going to wear for Halloween, Pearl?’
‘I’m not wearing any stupid costume,’ I said. ‘I’m not one of the babies.’
‘You’re acting like a baby,’ said Jodie. ‘Look at that lickle sulky face, diddums!’
She ran her finger over my lips, making a silly noise. I bared my teeth suddenly and bit her.
‘Ow! That hurt!’
She shook her hand, rubbing the finger, showing me real tiny toothmarks. I started to feel terrible.
Jodie traded on this, holding her hand in her armpit and looking anguished.
‘It was only a little bite,’ I said.
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when that dog bit me? I had to go to the doctor’s and get an injection. You could have given me any old infection. Tetanus. Maybe even rabies.’
‘I haven’t got tetanus or rabies so how could I possibly give them to you?’
‘You could easily be a carrier. It might not affect you but you could pass it on to me and I could get desperately ill, even die.’
‘You’re just being silly,’ I said, but my stomach clenched and goose pimples crawled up and down my arms.
‘Oh, well, if I die, I’ll turn into a ghost and then I won’t need a Halloween costume, I’ll be one!’
‘I’m sick to death of Halloween and I’m sick to death of you!’ I shouted.
I didn’t speak to Jodie any more that evening, not even when we went to bed – but in the middle of the night I climbed under her duvet and hugged her tightly, crying.
‘You’re making my pyjamas all wet,’ she complained sleepily.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I bit your finger. It is all right, isn’t it?’
‘Well, I think so,’ said Jodie. ‘It’s just – oh God!’
‘ What? ’
‘Feel!’
I scrabbled for her hand in the dark. I felt her thumb – and one, two, three fingers.
‘It must have fallen off in the night!’ said Jodie.
‘It can’t have!’ I gasped, feeling again frantically.
She was hiding one finger in her palm. I shook her furiously while she howled with laughter.
‘You are so bad,’ I said.
‘And you are so stupid,’ Jodie chortled.
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I found Harley at breakfast on Halloween morning and asked if he wa
s going to wear any special costume.
‘I look enough of a freak in my natural state,’ he said. ‘Miss French said I had to email my ma for yet more trousers. I’ve grown another two centimetres since the start of the summer. It’s so unfair. You’d think I’d start contracting after all that time spent crouching, badger-watching.’
‘We could maybe watch again tonight?’ I said.
‘While the party’s going on? You know I hate parties.’
‘You liked your birthday party, didn’t you?’ said Harley.
‘Well, yes, but that was different. I still hate parties where you have to dress up and do silly things.’
‘I’m afraid it’s a Melchester College speciality.
There’ll be a Bonfire Night party soon and a Christmas party at the end of term. Attendance is absolutely compulsory.
Mr Wilberforce and
Frenchie examine our faces every five minutes, and woe betide us if we’re not grinning widely enough.’
Harriet and Freya and Sheba and Clarissa weren’t looking forward to Halloween either.
‘It’s, like, so childish,’ said Clarissa, pretend-yawning.
‘You don’t even get any proper prizes for winning the games,’ said Sheba.
‘And there are still forty-five whole days until the end of term,’ said Freya. She had a special chart on the two middle pages of her school jotter and crossed each day off with her best pink gel pen.
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get to eat any apple you catch with your mouth.’
‘My mum’s going to make toffee apples,’ I said.
Mum hated the whole Halloween hullabaloo, but she was determined to show off to Miss French. She snapped out of her strange new apathy and scurried around the kitchen all day making ghost gingerbread biscuits with spooky white-icing faces, five huge square sponge cakes, each decorated with orange marzipan pumpkins, and tray after tray of red toffee apples oozing stickily onto greaseproof paper.
Dad tried hard too, scrubbing out a big trough for apple bobbing and fashioning makeshift wooden stocks, boring holes for arms and legs.
‘Are you going to shut a child up in that?’ I asked anxiously.
‘No, no, you mustn’t tell, it’s a secret, but Mr Wilberforce and Miss French are going to dress up as witches and take turns in the stocks and all you kids can throw wet sponges at them,’ said Dad.
‘I’ll be first in line when it’s Miss French’s turn,’
said Mum.
My whole family were absorbed in preparations for Halloween. I felt unsettled, left out. Mum sat me down carving pumpkins. It was fun fashioning the eyes and mouths but it was awkward and uncomfortable scooping out all the flesh and it made my hand ache. I did five pumpkins and then tried lighting candles inside them. I hated the way they sprang to life, five leery grinning heads. I blew out the candles quickly and went to my room.
Jodie was there, painting her face white. It contrasted eerily with her purple hair. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and leggings with a black 349
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net skirt. She had skull stickers up and down her arms and legs, and chains clanking round her neck.
‘Where did you get the chains from?’ I asked.
‘Well, let’s hope no one needs to go to the loo for a bit,’ said Jodie.
‘You’re mad,’ I said.
She grinned at me. She’d blackened her teeth revoltingly.
‘You’ll scare all the littlies to death,’ I said.
‘That’s the point of Halloween,’ she said. ‘They like being scared, it’s fun. Come on, let me make you up too, Pearl. Then you can put on your black skirt and I’ll give you a chain or two and you can be my little Goth ghost sister.’
‘No, I don’t want to. I hate Halloween,’ I said.
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. Please. Join in with me,’ said Jodie.
I gave in and let her paint and decorate me ghoulishly because I didn’t want her to be the only older girl dressed up. I let her whiten my face and blacken my teeth.
‘You could dye your hair too to match mine,’ said Jodie.
I wasn’t going to go that far, but I let her braid it into lots of plaits and tie them with black ribbons.
‘There! You look so cool, Pearl!’ Jodie said at last, spinning me round so I could stare in the mirror.
When I was little, I’d have been thrilled at the sight of myself, but now I was acutely aware that I looked ridiculous. I wanted to scrub myself back to my old self but I couldn’t hurt Jodie’s feelings.
‘Yeah, ultra cool,’ I said lamely.
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‘ You've really entered into the spirit of things,
my dear, ’ said Mr Wilberforce.
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I didn’t feel cool. I felt burning with embarrassment when the party started in the dining hall at half past six. The little ones were all capering about in their costumes but very few Juniors were dressed up, and none of the Seniors. They all smirked at Jodie and me. They smirked at the teachers too.
Mr Wilberforce came as a witch, though he wore rolled-up trousers under his skirts to show he wasn’t seriously trying to be a drag queen. He had a silly floormop wig but he didn’t wear make-up.
Miss French had gone to town on hers, adding warts and wrinkles and an entire false nose that looked alarmingly authentic. (Mum chortled at the sight of her.) Matron looked the closest to a real witch naturally, so perhaps that was why she didn’t dress up at all.
Undie tried too hard, hidden under a ghost sheet while she clutched a severed papier-mâché head in her hand. She’d modelled a startling likeness but it 353
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didn’t upset any of the littlies. Halfway through the evening, bored of endless apple-bobbing, Zeph bounced the head out of her arms and used it as a football all around the room.
Lovely Mrs Lewin had turned herself into Good Witch Glinda, wearing a pretty pink dress with sequins and carrying a wand. Mild Mr Michaels came as the devil in a black jumper and trousers with a long black forked tail sticking out the back and two little twists of horn stuck to his forehead.
They were all varying figures of fun, but this was intentional, a deliberate reversal of power to give the Halloween party some point. Jodie and I just looked like losers, babyish for wanting to dress up and tackily tasteless in our mad make-up and net and lavatory chains.
Mum looked shocked when she saw us, and Dad raised an eyebrow, but they couldn’t really tell us off, not when all the teachers had dressed up too.
Miss French clapped us both on the back, cackling in character, and Mr Wilberforce nodded and winked at Jodie.
‘You’ve really entered into the spirit of things, my dear,’ he said. ‘And you’ve been utterly inspirational to all the younger ones. I’ve never seen such a splendid turn-out of wee ghoulies and ghosties.
Well done!’
Jodie grinned at him and started organizing all her little gang into a game of Tag the Ghost.
‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. They’re all a bit excited already,’ said Miss Ponsonby.
‘Nonsense! It will do them good to let off steam and run about a bit,’ said Mr Wilberforce. ‘You show them, Jodie.’
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Jodie showed them with a vengeance, charging around on her high heels, her purple hair flying, getting so hot that her eye make-up started running. Her net skirts kept flying up, showing the skulls on her thighs and her skimpy knickers, red to match her shoes. All the girls in Year Eight rolled their eyes at her and some of the boys started muttering horrible things.
Mum would have said
something now, regardless, but she was in the kitchen making mulled wine for the adults. Dad tried hissing at her, ‘Watch your skirts, our Jodie,’ but she took no notice.
Harley came over to me. ‘Can’t you stop her making such a fool of herself, Pearl?’ he whispered.
I glared at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I lied. ‘She’s just helping the little ones have fun.
They’re loving it.’
This bit was true. All the children scampered after Jodie, calling to her, desperate for her approval. I knew how they felt. I’d been led by Jodie all my life.
I walked away from Harley, even though I knew he was only trying to help. I went to watch Harry apple-bobbing. She made me have a go but I was hopeless at it. I kept getting mouthfuls of water instead of apple and smeared my purple lipstick all over my chin. Harry pursued her apples relent-lessly, like a seal snapping up fish. Her dress got soaked but she didn’t seem to care.
Mr Wilberforce and Miss French were soaked through too as they took turns in the stocks. Harry queued to throw squeezy sponges at them, so I did too. I threw my first sponge aimlessly and it landed thump on the floor a metre away from the stocks.
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Then I overheard Clarissa whispering that Jodie looked a total tart. I flexed my arm and aimed my sponge at her, catching her fair and square in the face. She shrieked at me furiously.
‘Sorry, Clarissa, I’ve got lousy aim,’ I said, shrugging.
‘Good for you, Pearl,’ Harry whispered, and we squeezed hands.
We all ate Mum’s special Halloween cake. Mum wrapped a special slice in tinfoil for Mrs Wilberforce.
‘Doesn’t the poor soul want to come to the party too?’ she said pointedly. ‘My husband would be happy to wheel her over from the bungalow.’
‘That’s very kind of you, my dear, but she doesn’t really care for this sort of fun and games nowadays,’ said Mr Wilberforce.
Mum tutted. She cast a glance at Miss French, who was shrieking in the stocks. ‘Miss French certainly seems to be enjoying herself,’ she said.
‘Oh, dear old Frenchie’s a jolly good sport,’ said Mr Wilberforce.
My Sister Jodie Page 27