Mum and Dad let me stay up for half an hour past my bedtime to get it finished.
‘Well done, darling! I’m sure Miss Lovejoy will be thrilled,’ said Mum.
I was thrilled too. It was so lovely being able to draw. I don’t want to sound like I’m boasting, but I can draw better than either Phil or Maddie. I’ve never been better than them at anything before.
I did wonder about drawing a picture for Selma too, but I decided she probably wouldn’t want one. I didn’t know what to give her for Christmas. This time last year I would never have dreamed of giving Selma Johnson anything at all, but now we were friends. Not best friends, but friends all the same.
In the end I begged some beads off Phil – blue and green and purple, and five alphabet beads – and made Selma a bracelet.
On the last day of term I took Miss Lovejoy’s picture and Selma’s bracelet in to school. Miss Lovejoy had lots and lots of presents. Her desk was completely covered. She looked very happy – but she looked happiest of all when she took my picture out of its envelope.
‘Oh, Tina!’ she said. ‘Oh my goodness, the work you’ve put into this! You must know more about Japan than I do! It’s beautiful.’
‘Do you really, really like it? Might you hang it on the wall beside my butterfly?’
‘I’m not going to hang it in the classroom.’ Miss Lovejoy smiled at me. ‘I shall hang it on my bedroom wall at home, and then every day when I wake up I shall see it and get excited about going to Japan. Now I have a little something for you.’
She handed me an envelope. ‘Don’t get excited. It’s not a present. It’s not a donation for your butterfly garden – it’s more the promise of one. Do you remember I suggested sponsoring you in a spelling test?’
‘Oh, Miss Lovejoy! I hoped you were joking!’
‘Inside the envelope you will find fifty words I know you can’t spell. Learn them over Christmas. Then, the first day of term, I’ll give you a test. I’ll sponsor you fifty p a word. If you got them all right, then you’d get . . . how much for your butterfly garden?’
I fidgeted, trying to work it out.
‘Oh dear, maths isn’t your strong point either, Tina. Perhaps I’ll set you an arithmetic test too!’
‘Oh please, no! It’s . . . it’s . . .’
‘Twenty-five pounds!’ said Alistair.
‘Alistair! I wanted Tina to work it out!’ said Miss Lovejoy.
‘Yes, I know, I couldn’t help it. When I know the answer for something, I have to say it or burst!’ he said.
‘Twenty-five pounds!’ I echoed, marvelling.
‘But you have to get every single word right. Fifty p a word. It will mean a lot of hard work.’
‘I’m used to hard work now,’ I said. ‘Right, Miss Lovejoy. You’re on!’
Selma liked her Christmas present too. Very, very much. She put her bracelet on straight away and then kept lifting up her arm, showing it off to everyone. We weren’t supposed to wear jewellery to school, but nobody minded on the last day of term.
‘See my bracelet,’ she kept saying to everyone.
‘Of course I can see your bracelet. You’re dangling it right under my nose!’ Alistair told her.
‘My friend Tina gave me it.’
‘It’s just a baby one she made from beads. It’s not a proper bracelet from a shop,’ said Kayleigh.
‘It’s better than a shop bracelet. Tina made it specially,’ said Selma. ‘You’re just jealous.’
She turned to me. ‘I need to tell you something when we’re private.’
She waited until we were digging the very last piece of garden at playtime. Well, there was still quite a hard patch with a lot of bricks in the earth, but Miss Lovejoy said she might be able to come into school during the holidays and break it up a bit now that her back was better.
‘Tina, I haven’t got you a Christmas present,’ said Selma.
‘Never mind.’
‘I feel bad about it. And the thing is, you’re kind of my Christmas present,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was having this conversation about Christmas with my mum, and she was asking me and my brother Sam what we want. Baby Joel’s too little to ask because he can’t talk yet. Sam was saying he wants all this stupid stuff, and I said all I really wanted was to have you come to tea one day.’ Selma went red as she said it and wouldn’t look at me.
‘That’s . . . lovely,’ I said uncertainly. I liked Selma and I’d enjoyed having her to tea with me. I wasn’t anywhere near as keen on the idea of going to tea with her. I didn’t like the look of Selma’s little brothers. Her mum seemed very fierce. And Selma herself said her stepdad could be really mean and scary. The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that I didn’t want to go to tea with Selma at all – but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
‘You’ll come then!’ she said, suddenly looking radiant. ‘How about this Saturday. Please say yes!’
‘Well, I’ll have to ask my mum . . .’ I hesitated. ‘She might not let me because – because I might have to help with all the Christmas shopping and that.’
‘I’ll ask her for you!’ said Selma.
When all the mums came to collect us at the end of school, Selma charged across the playground, veered right round her own mum and threw herself at mine.
‘Can Tina come to tea with me this Saturday?’ she gabbled.
Mum looked taken aback. So did Phil and Maddie. Selma’s mum looked surprised too.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you to ask her, dear, but . . .’ Mum began, obviously searching for an excuse.
‘I know you’ll be busy doing Christmas stuff, but you’ve got Phil and Maddie to help. Oh, please let Tina come. She really wants to, don’t you, Tina?’ Selma nudged me, so I had to nod.
‘But perhaps your mum will be busy too?’ said mine, looking at Mrs Johnson.
‘Yes, but I did promise our Selma,’ she said. She had to speak loudly because Sam had snatched baby Joel’s bottle and he was protesting bitterly. ‘Shut up, you two pests! So, Saturday afternoon, at ours. We live at 93 Turner block, on the Painters Estate. Do you know where that is?’
Mum nodded. The Painters Estate was only two roads away from us but we’d never ever been there. The Painters Estate was famous for being ultra-scary.
‘Perhaps we’d better see how Tina is on Saturday morning. I think she might be going down with another cold . . .’ Mum started saying, but Mrs Johnson had already pushed off with Joel in the buggy, Sam yelling and Selma waving happily to me.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mum.
‘You can’t let our Tina go to tea with Selma!’ said Phil.
‘You’d be much too scared, wouldn’t you, Tina?’ said Maddie.
They both put their arms round me. I suddenly wriggled free. I was scared, but I didn’t want to admit it. And Selma was my friend. She wanted me to go to tea with her so much, even more than a proper Christmas present.
‘I want to go,’ I said determinedly.
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Tina,’ said Mum. ‘It might be different if Phil and Maddie were invited too, but I don’t like the thought of you going there on your own.’
‘But you let Phil go to tea with Neera on her own. And Maddie went to the football match with Harry and his dad on her own,’ I said.
‘I know, but . . .’ Mum didn’t quite like to say that she thought Selma and her family and her flat were scary. ‘Let’s see what Dad thinks,’ she said.
She thought Dad would give a firm no and that would be that. But Dad was surprising.
‘I think Tina should definitely go to tea with Selma,’ he said.
‘But I’m not sure she’ll be all right. Selma’s the girl who bullied her mercilessly at the start of term,’ said Mum.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t any more, does she? She seemed a nice little kiddie when she came to tea with us. My dad took a real shine to her. I bet our Tina will have a whale of a time if we let her g
o. You’re getting really fond of Selma, aren’t you, lovey?’ Dad put his arm round me and I nodded – though there was still a little part of me that wanted him to stop me going.
But it was all decided. I was going to tea with Selma on Saturday.
Phil and Maddie and I always wore our play clothes on Saturday. We had sweatshirts in different colours (Phil had blue, Maddie had red and I had green) and dungarees with little pockets. I liked my dungarees, but I always felt a bit sad when I put them on now, because I used to carry Baby around in the pocket.
I thought about Baby all morning. I didn’t want to eat much lunch. And at half past two, when Mum said we’d better be going, I suddenly blurted out, ‘I don’t think I want to go to tea with Selma after all!’
‘Oh, Tina, now you tell me!’ said Mum. ‘Well, it’s too late to change your mind. I expect you’ll have a lovely time when you get there.’
‘I don’t think I will!’ I said in a tiny voice.
‘Poor Tina,’ said Phil, putting her arm round me. ‘Don’t make her go, Mum.’
‘Poor Tina,’ said Maddie, putting her arm round me. ‘Even I would be a bit worried about going to tea with Selma.’
‘Oh, you girls, stop ganging up on me,’ said Mum. ‘Now come on. We’ll walk Tina to the Painters Estate and see how she feels about it when we get there. If you’re still absolutely certain you don’t want to go, then we’ll knock on Selma’s door and politely explain that you don’t feel very well. You do look a bit peaky, sweetheart.’
I felt even less well when we got to the Painters Estate. Phil and Maddie and I held hands tightly. There were gangs of boys on skateboards whizzing past so near that we all jumped. There were gangs of big girls who all mocked us and called rude names. Mum told them off and they all shrieked with laughter and called her even ruder names.
‘Right, that’s it!’ she said. ‘Come on, girls, we’re going home.’
But just then we heard someone calling up above us.
‘Tina! Tina! Hey, Tina!!!’ It was Selma, hanging over a high-up walkway, waving and yelling excitedly. ‘Wait there – I’ll come and get you!’
So we had to wait. Selma came charging out of the lift and threw her arms round me. ‘You came! I was so worried you wouldn’t really come! And we’re going to have a really special tea. Come on up!’ she said.
‘Oh dear, Selma,’ said Mum. ‘I’m so sorry, but I think Tina’s feeling a bit poorly. I would have phoned your mother, but I don’t have her phone number. I’m not sure Tina’s well enough to come to tea.’
Selma’s face crumpled.
I couldn’t bear it. ‘Yes I am, Mum,’ I said. ‘You come and get me later, OK? Come on, Selma.’
And we ran off together, hand in hand.
Chapter Nineteen
SELMA’S FLAT WAS amazing. I’d thought it would be sad and threadbare because Selma didn’t have nice clothes and never had any money to spare. I was so wrong!
She had a television that was very nearly as big as the living-room wall. It was just like going to the cinema! There was also a television in the kitchen, and another one in Selma and Sam’s bedroom. We only had one television in our house and it was quite small.
She had two great big leather sofas, practically brand-new, and as soft as butter so you could sink down into them. There was a matching big black leather chair with its own soft black leather footstool. We only had one sofa, and it was a terrible squash if Mum and Dad and Phil and Maddie and I all tried to sit on it together. Our chairs didn’t match and we didn’t even have a footstool.
Everything matched in Selma’s flat. The towels in the bathroom were the same design, just different sizes, and they matched the fluffy bath mat. All our towels at home were different colours and our bath mat wasn’t fluffy any more. I had a peep in Selma’s mum’s room, and she had amazing matching leopard-print bedcovers. Baby Joel’s cot was there too. He had a jungle print on his little baby duvet, and a big toy leopard crouched on his pillow.
I thought Selma’s bedroom would be magic too, but she had to share with her brother Sam, and it was a bit messy and crowded with all his toys. They didn’t have matching duvets. Sam had Postman Pat. Maddie used to have that exact duvet cover. Selma had a pink fairy one. She blushed when she saw me staring.
‘I’ve had that stupid duvet cover since I was little. It’s sooooo babyish,’ she said quickly.
‘I think it’s lovely. I wish I had a fairy duvet,’ I said.
Selma had a fairy musical box too, but it wouldn’t play when I tried turning the handle.
‘Sam broke it,’ she told me.
She had a fairy doll too, but its hair had been chopped off and its face scribbled on.
‘Did Sam do that too?’ I asked.
‘I can’t stick Sam. Or Joel. Or their stupid dad,’ said Selma.
We couldn’t play in Selma’s bedroom because Sam came in too, and he mucked about and spoiled all our games.
‘You shove off, squirt,’ said Selma.
‘Won’t! It’s my bedroom too, wobble-bum!’ he said.
Selma tried to push him out. He kicked and spat at her. She pushed a bit harder and he fell over. He didn’t really hurt himself but he started yelling.
‘I’ll tell my dad on you,’ he said, sticking out his chin.
‘See if I care, telltale,’ said Selma.
He wouldn’t leave us in peace, so we left the bedroom and locked ourselves in the bathroom. It was much more peaceful. Selma’s mum kept her make-up in the bathroom cabinet, so Selma and I had a grand time putting on eyeliner and shadow and lipstick. We looked almost like grown-up ladies.
‘But we’d better wash it all off or my mum will do her nut,’ said Selma.
We washed it off as best we could. Some of the eye stuff ended up on the towel, but Selma shoved it into the dirty clothes basket. Then we played making soap bubbles in the basin with the bar of Lux. We pretended we were ladies in a telly advert. Selma actually lay in the empty bath, pretending she was soaping herself all over. We didn’t half get the giggles.
Sam started whining outside, saying he was desperate for a wee.
Eventually Mrs Johnson came knocking at the door. ‘Come on, you two! Out you come. Let the kid in or he’ll wet all over my shag carpet.’
We got the giggles even more, spluttering as we came out.
‘You two – cackle cackle cackle!’ said Mrs Johnson, but she wasn’t really cross.
We all went into the living room and watched a DVD together. Mum only lets Phil and Maddie and me watch children’s films, but this was a totally grown-up drama, and it was really scary. Mrs Johnson didn’t seem to mind us watching. Sam whooped with excitement whenever any men did something really bad. Baby Joel crawled around happily, not seeming to mind all the shouting and thumping on the screen.
I tried not to watch properly, screwing up my eyes whenever it got really violent.
‘You OK, Tina?’ Selma asked. ‘Great film, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, great,’ I said weakly.
It was a relief when Selma’s stepdad came in and we stopped watching the film. I thought he might be very mean and scary – I knew Selma didn’t like him at all – but he seemed really jolly and friendly at first.
‘So you’re little Teeny Tiny Tears!’ he said to me. ‘My goodness, you’re small enough to fit into my pocket. Fancy a little tiddler like you being friends with our great girl Selma!’
‘Hello, Mr Johnson,’ I said shyly.
‘I’m not Mr Johnson, sweetheart. I’m Mr Barlow, but you can call me Jason. Lovely manners, you’ve got. You could teach our Selma a lesson.’
Selma glared at him.
‘See what I mean!’ said Jason. ‘Face like thunder whenever I come in! Still, you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you, boys?’
He picked up little Joel and tickled him until he squealed, and then mock-wrestled with Sam.
‘Watch the furniture, you lot!’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better get tea
organized.’
She didn’t do any cooking. She just phoned up the pizza parlour and ordered five barbecue chicken melt pizzas, with six twisted dough balls, two big tubs of cookie-dough ice cream and three big bottles of Coke. I listened with my mouth open. Mum only lets Phil and Maddie and me have cheese and tomato pizzas, and we have to share one between the three of us. I’d never had dough balls or cookie-dough ice cream, and I was only allowed Coke as a special party treat. Oh, I was soooo glad I’d decided to go to tea with Selma.
I liked her so much now. Maybe I hoped she’d become my best friend after all. Her mum was very nice to me too. Sam was a bit of a pain, but Joel was all right, though you got dribbled on if he came too near you. I thought Selma’s stepdad was sort of OK, though I didn’t like the way he talked to her.
He was all right when he talked to me. In fact, he made a special effort to chat to me, asking me all about my sisters.
‘It must be fun to be a triplet,’ he said. ‘Especially if your sisters are both as sweet as you. Not too sure how we’d cope if Selma was one of three though!’
‘Not sure how I’d cope if you were triplets,’ said Selma, sticking out her chin.
‘Here! Watch that lip!’ said Jason. ‘Or else!’
Perhaps I didn’t like him after all. But I tried hard to be polite, hoping he wouldn’t get really mad with Selma. I nattered on about the butterfly garden, telling him how wonderful Selma had been, digging the whole garden almost by herself.
‘Our Selma? Well, that’s a surprise! She certainly doesn’t make herself useful at home,’ said Jason.
‘You wouldn’t know,’ said Selma. ‘You’re hardly ever at home, thank goodness. You’re always down the pub or the betting shop.’
My tummy went tight.
Jason glared at her. ‘I’m telling you, madam – you talk to me like that one more time and it’s bed for you, whether you’ve got your sweet little friend to tea or not,’ he said.
The Butterfly Club Page 13