‘Are you good at dancing, Selma?’ asked Miss Lovejoy.
‘No, she’s rubbish at it,’ Sarah whispered to the others, and they all giggled. It was true. We’d had a country dancing lesson that morning. We had to have partners. Phil and Maddie both ran over to me and said that we three would dance together, but Miss Lovejoy said we were being silly. We had to be in partners of two, one girl and one boy.
Phil danced with a boy on her table called Mark.
Maddie danced with Harry, lucky thing.
I ended up dancing with Alistair. I discovered that dancing was the only thing Alistair wasn’t good at. He kept treading on my toes and starting with the left foot instead of the right. He went very red in the face.
‘I hate this silly dancing,’ he muttered.
Selma was even worse. She was dancing with Mick. He was all bouncy-bouncy to the music, but she was stiff and kept stepping the wrong way. She got angry and tried to make out it was all Mick’s fault, but he just laughed at her.
Selma must have known she was bad at dancing, but she didn’t like the others saying so. She glared and glared.
‘I don’t think you’re especially fond of dancing, Selma,’ said Miss Lovejoy, ‘so you wait in the classroom, please. Now, I have a feeling that some of you are in special clubs – is that right?’
Phil and her friends giggled and nudged each other.
‘I like it that you’ve had the initiative to start up a club. I’m sure you have special club business to attend to, so off you go,’ said Miss Lovejoy.
Phil hung back. ‘I think I’ll stay with Tina,’ she said.
‘Oh, Phil, you’re the one who makes up all the rules!’ Neera told her. ‘You have to come too.’
Phil peered at me. I mouthed Stay! at her, because there were only two other girls left in the classroom. One of them was me, and the other was Selma!
‘Run along, Philippa,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’ll be staying with Tina.’
She still looked very anxious.
‘Off you go!’
Phil went. Selma and I were left together.
‘Now then . . .’ Miss Lovejoy went to her store cupboard.
Selma pulled a hideous face at me. ‘Poor licklewickle cry-baby buggy-wuggy,’ she muttered. ‘You wait!’
I had to wait. I wasn’t at all happy.
Miss Lovejoy emerged from the store cupboard with two painting overalls. ‘Put these on, girls,’ she said.
‘Oh! Are we going to do painting?’ I said, perking up a little. ‘Can I do some sunflowers?’
‘No, we’re not doing painting, Tina. We’re going to do a spot of manual labour and I don’t want you to get your school clothes grubby.’
Manual labour? What did she mean?
She was delving around in a carrier bag now. She took out three things wrapped in newspaper: three spades – one big and two smaller ones.
‘What are them spades for?’ asked Selma.
‘What are those spades for, Miss Lovejoy,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘What do you think spades are for, Selma? Digging!’
‘Where are we going to dig, Miss Lovejoy?’ I couldn’t think of anywhere to dig at school. Unless . . . ‘Are we going to dig in the sandpit?’
‘I’m not playing with all them babies,’ said Selma.
‘Those babies, Selma. And rest assured, I don’t want you to regress back to infancy,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘You’re going to do some proper digging. Come with me, girls.’
She gave us each a spade and we followed along after her, down the corridor and out into the playground. We walked over the asphalt to the grassy patch at the end. It wasn’t very grassy any more. There was lots of bare, greyish earth, a few weeds, and a lot of empty crisp packets and chocolate wrappers, even though it was strictly forbidden to chuck your litter away.
‘Dear me!’ exclaimed Miss Lovejoy. ‘Here, Tina, you’d better be litter monitor. Gather every scrap and put it in the bag. Selma, you and I will make a start on the digging.’
‘Why are we digging in this dirt?’ asked Selma. ‘Is it a punishment?’
‘We’re going to make a garden,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘A butterfly garden!’
‘Oh!’ I clapped my hands, dropping the chocolate wrappers I’d just picked up.
‘I gather that’s a clap of approval,’ said Miss Lovejoy.
‘Oh yes yes yes! Thank you so much, Miss Lovejoy! Oh, you’re so kind! I’d love a butterfly garden more than anything!’
‘I wouldn’t!’ said Selma. ‘I don’t even like stupid butterflies. Why should I get roped in? Let Tina do the digging if she wants a garden.’
‘Very well,’ said Miss Lovejoy.
We both stared at her.
‘Leave the litter clearance for now. Get started on the digging, Tina.’
So I picked up my spade and started digging. Well, I tried. The spade wouldn’t go into the ground properly. I tried again and again.
‘Like this, Tina,’ said Miss Lovejoy. She put her spade on the earth, and pressed down hard on the top of the blade with her stout shoe. ‘You have to put a bit of effort in. Try to use your whole body strength.’
I tried – I really did. I put my foot on my spade and shoved, then slipped sideways so that I fell over. It hurt a lot and normally I’d have cried, but this wasn’t an option in front of Selma and Miss Lovejoy. I gritted my teeth and tried again, but I couldn’t get the spade to go down far enough, no matter how I tried.
‘She’s useless,’ Selma jeered.
‘Yes, she is,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘But look how hard she’s trying, Selma. She’s gone bright red in the face. Have a little rest, Tina.’
I leaned against a tree thankfully.
‘Why do you think Tina finds it so hard to dig, Selma?’ asked Miss Lovejoy.
‘Because she’s useless,’ said Selma.
‘You’ve already said that. But why is she?’
‘Because she’s just a little squirt.’
‘Yes, Tina’s very little and very thin,’ agreed Miss Lovejoy. ‘And she’s been very ill. She badly wants to make a butterfly garden but she needs some help. I think you’re the strongest of all the girls, Selma. I’m sure you’re good at digging.’
‘Why can’t you get some of the boys to do the digging?’
‘Think about it, Selma. I doubt Alistair would be very good at it, but at least he’d be sensible. I wouldn’t trust Michael and Peter with spades. They’d start a spade fight in two seconds. Let’s see what you’re like. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you won’t be able to dig properly.’
‘I will.’ Selma took her spade. She put her foot on it. She moved a whole chunk of earth. ‘See!’
‘Yes, I see. Well done! How long can you keep going? There’s only five more minutes of playtime, but perhaps we can put in half an hour after lunch . . . Or would that tire you out?’
‘I can keep going for ages,’ said Selma. ‘But am I going to do all the hard work while she just flops about?’ She nodded at me and sniffed.
‘I’ll be doing the hard work too. Tina can carry on collecting up the rubbish, and then tomorrow I’ll bring a little trowel so that she can dig up the weeds. I think I might find another big spade just for you, Selma. I’m sure you’ll manage it.’
Selma nodded at me triumphantly.
It was very annoying. I wanted to be the big strong girl. And I didn’t want Selma to have anything at all to do with my butterfly garden. But I knew I couldn’t dig it all. And Miss Lovejoy was an old lady, so I couldn’t expect her to dig much either. I had no choice.
Selma went on digging. So did Miss Lovejoy. And I collected litter. Lots and lots of litter.
‘I’m going to garden again after lunch,’ I told Phil and Maddie while we were eating our sandwiches. (Ham and tomato today. And two cold chipolata sausages, a baby orange called a clementine, two jammy dodgers, and a little bottle of pink lemonade.) I ate everything up. Phil and Maddie looked a bit disappointed.
‘Fancy you eating ever
ything,’ said Phil.
‘Not a crumb left!’ said Maddie, peering into my lunch box.
‘It’s all my hard work gardening.’ I yawned and stretched like Dad does when he comes home from work.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Phil asked anxiously. ‘You’re not meant to do hard work.’
‘Mum will be cross. We shouldn’t let you do gardening,’ said Maddie.
‘I like it,’ I told them.
‘You like being with Selma?’ said Phil.
‘Is she being mean to you?’ asked Maddie. ‘Shall we come and help too? I don’t have to play footie.’
I rather wanted them to come. I always felt odd without them, as if two big chunks of me were missing. And we’d get the garden dug much more quickly with two more pairs of hands.
‘Yes, come too!’ I said eagerly.
But when we went over to the garden patch together, Selma glared at us. Miss Lovejoy didn’t look too pleased either.
‘What are all you lot doing here?’ asked Selma.
‘We’ve come to help with the garden,’ said Phil.
‘We don’t need your help. This is our garden.’ Selma looked at Miss Lovejoy.
‘It’s very kind of you to offer your help, Philippa and Madeleine, but I’m afraid I don’t have any more spades,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘You go off and play. Tina will be fine. She’s chief rubbish collector at the moment.’
‘And I’m chief digger. Look!’ said Selma, demonstrating.
She dug so fiercely she showered earth all over my socks and shoes. ‘Whoops!’ she said. Then, ‘Sorry, Tina.’
Phil and Maddie looked astonished. Selma Johnson had just apologized to me!!!
‘That’s OK, Selma,’ I said, shaking my feet.
I carried on collecting litter. Selma went on digging. So did Miss Lovejoy. Phil and Maddie wandered off, still looking stunned.
I wished they’d stayed. And yet I felt quite proud too. Miss Lovejoy gave me a big smile.
‘You’ll never guess what!’ said Phil to Mum when she came to collect us after school.
‘Our Tina’s kind of friends with Selma!’ said Maddie.
‘We’re not friends!’ I said. ‘But she isn’t quite as mean to me now. We played together at playtime and lunch time.’
‘Well, that’s lovely,’ said Mum.
‘We do gardening,’ I told her proudly.
‘Gardening?’
‘We’re going to make a butterfly garden, Miss Lovejoy says. But it’s very hard work, digging and digging.’
‘You’re digging?’ said Mum. ‘You can’t dig, Tina! Especially when you’ve just had pneumonia. Whatever’s Miss Lovejoy thinking of!’
‘I knew Mum would be cross,’ said Maddie.
‘I was watching. I don’t think Tina did a lot of digging,’ said Phil.
‘She’s not to do any digging at all! Do you hear me, Tina? You can’t do any gardening,’ said Mum.
‘But I want to! I have to. It’s my garden!’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but you know you can’t do anything that’s a strain on your heart.’
‘It’s not fair!’ I said. ‘You don’t let me do anything! You’re so mean, Mum.’
‘Tina! Don’t talk to me like that! I know it’s not fair, darling, but I can’t help it.’
‘I want to garden! I want to garden more than anything!’ I wailed.
‘But you did get ever so out of puff, Tina. I saw you having to lean against the tree,’ said Phil.
‘We’ll do the garden and you can watch,’ said Maddie.
‘I don’t want to watch! I’m sick of watching! I want to garden!’ I yelled.
‘Calm down, young lady. I’m not having you throwing a tantrum in the street. Look, we’ll go and see Dr Jessop. Maybe she’ll be able to talk some sense into you. And I’ll get her to write a note to explain the situation to Miss Lovejoy,’ said Mum. ‘Let’s go to her surgery right now.’
Dr Jessop was holding a mother-and-baby clinic.
‘This is Dr Jessop’s ante-natal afternoon,’ said the receptionist. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to make an appointment for Tina for tomorrow.’
‘Could we wait until Dr Jessop’s finished?’ asked Mum. ‘I just want a very quick word. It is quite urgent.’
‘Very well,’ said the receptionist. She’s used to Mum and me.
So we sat with all the mothers and babies. There were toddlers who kept running about and grabbing things and shouting. There were crawling babies and crying babies. There were silent babies sucking dummies and squealy babies bouncing on their mother’s knee. There were fat babies and thin babies and big babies and very tiny babies. There were babies with curls and babies with wisps and babies with no hair at all.
‘Oh, you’ve got twins!’ said one of the mothers. ‘So have I – look!’
‘Actually, my girls are triplets,’ said Mum.
All the mothers looked at Phil and Maddie and me. We hate it when this happens. People always look a bit dismayed when they see me.
Phil didn’t mind waiting too much because she actually likes babies.
Maddie thinks babies are boring, but she found a football magazine and so she didn’t mind waiting too much either.
I looked for a butterfly magazine, but there weren’t any. I didn’t bother with the babies. I think they’re boring too.
I took my sketchbook out of my satchel and looked at all my beautiful butterflies. I read about the flowers they liked to feed on. I ached to make a butterfly garden so that I could watch them fluttering about my very own flowers. I wanted to make it myself.
Dr Jessop had to see an awful lot of babies. We all started to get fed up and hungry, so Mum popped out to the newsagent’s down the road and came back with a bar of chocolate, which she divided into three.
Phil nibbled her piece daintily. Maddie ate hers in four quick bites. I licked mine like a lolly.
‘Oh dear, chocolate!’ said the twins’ mother. ‘I’m never going to give my two chocolates or sweeties. I’ll give them raisins or carrot sticks or apple slices if they want a little treat.’
Mum went pink. We’re hardly ever allowed chocolate. She scrubbed round my mouth with a tissue, tutting at me.
At long, long last Dr Jessop finished her clinic. She came into the waiting room looking weary.
‘Could we just have a very quick word, Dr Jessop?’ asked Mum.
Dr Jessop looked even wearier.
‘It’s Tina,’ said Mum.
‘Yes, I thought it would be,’ said Dr Jessop.
‘There’s a teacher at her school encouraging her to do gardening – digging! Would you please tell Tina that she absolutely mustn’t?’
Dr Jessop sat down on one of the waiting-room chairs. ‘Why mustn’t she?’
Mum looked astonished. ‘Well, because of her weak heart – and she’s still recovering from that pneumonia. She’s as weak as a kitten.’
‘Then maybe a bit of fresh air and digging will build her up a bit. We don’t want her to play any contact sports because people might barge into her – but gardening sounds like just the ticket.’ Dr Jessop looked at me. ‘Are you going to grow flowers, Tina, or fruit and vegetables?’
‘I’m going to grow everything that butterflies like. It’s going to be a butterfly garden,’ I said.
‘Well, I think that’s an excellent idea! I would garden as often as you like – not that there’s much you can do over the winter. You can’t plant much then.’
‘No, but we have to make the garden first. It’s going to take a long time to do all the digging. Actually, I can’t do much of the digging myself, but this girl Selma helps.’
‘That’s good.’ Dr Jessop looked at Phil and Maddie. ‘Are you gardening girls too?’
‘Well, we wanted to help,’ said Phil.
‘And I know I’d be good at digging. I bet I’m better than Selma,’ said Maddie.
‘But it’s going to be my garden as I’m the one who knows all about butterflies no
w,’ I said proudly.
‘Good for you,’ said Dr Jessop. ‘Well, I’d better be off home to get my family their tea. And I expect you need to do the same, Mrs Maynard . . .’
‘Yes. Well. Are you sure Tina won’t come to any harm doing this gardening? Maddie did say that she was very out of breath and had to lie down . . .’
‘No – she just leaned against a tree,’ said Maddie.
‘It was only a very little lean,’ I said.
‘I think Tina knows best,’ said Dr Jessop. ‘If she gets out of puff or tired, then she’ll rest. But we need to build up her strength. So you carry on gardening, Tina. If you get a taste for it, you can pop round to my place and earn a bit of pocket money pulling up all my weeds.’
So it was decided! Dr Jessop said! I could carry on gardening!
Chapter Fourteen
SELMA AND I gardened every playtime and every lunch time. Miss Lovejoy gardened with us at first. She was different to the way she was in the classroom. She chatted about all sorts of stuff. She told us about her holidays.
‘It’s the best part about being a teacher,’ she said. ‘You get time to go on lovely holidays. I don’t spend much during term-time – I don’t go out of an evening and I don’t bother with fancy new clothes. I save every penny for my holidays.’
She didn’t need to tell us that she didn’t bother with fancy new clothes. She had two identical outfits, but in different sludgy colours: a sludgy blue blouse and cardigan and skirt, and a pale sludgy brown blouse and cardigan and skirt.
She always wore the same shoes. I can’t wait to wear proper grown-up shoes with high heels. Selma says she’s got a pair already, but I think she tells fibs. Miss Lovejoy could wear any style she wanted. Goodness knows why she chose hers!
‘Where do you like to go on holiday, Miss Lovejoy?’ I asked. ‘We went to a caravan in Norfolk. It’s lovely there.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Do you go there too?’
‘I did when I was a little girl.’
It was very hard to imagine Miss Lovejoy as a little girl.
‘Where do you go now?’
The Butterfly Club Page 9