My Super Sister

by Gwyneth Rees

  Mum started to laugh, but Dad didn’t. His face went pink and he looked very sternly at my sister. ‘Saffie, stop that nonsense at once!’

  But Saffie never listens to Dad if she thinks Mum is on her side. And now the veggies on our dad’s plate were also rising to the occasion. ‘Please, Jim, don’t stick that nasty fork into us!’ they shouted as they leaped off his plate on to the table.

  It was too much for Dad. Like I said before, our special powers totally freak him out, and he especially hates it when my sister starts messing with his food. He jumped up from the table and shrieked as a piece of dancing broccoli brushed against his finger.

  ‘That’s enough, Saffie,’ Mum said, struggling to look more serious.

  ‘Yes, Saffie, don’t be gross!’ I said, because, funny or not, we really aren’t supposed to bring food to life, especially not when people are about to eat it. (Though it could have been worse – at least Saffie’s dancing veggies didn’t have faces.)

  Saffie and I were sitting facing the sliding doors that open on to our garden and we both froze as a man suddenly appeared, peering in at us through the glass. I instantly recognized him as our new neighbour – but what was he doing in our back garden?

  My sister’s broccoli immediately dropped back on to its plate with a splat and our dad’s vegetables scattered in every direction all over the tablecloth. And all the time the man from outside was staring in at us.

  Our parents turned in their seats to look just as the man waved at us through the window. He was a very large man with dark curly hair and glasses.

  ‘Sorry, chaps! Bell not working!’ he mouthed through the glass. He must have come in through the side gate, which Mum is always nagging Dad to keep locked.

  As Mum stood up in alarm the man disappeared from view, presumably on his way back round to the front door.

  Mum was wearing her most worried frown. ‘Do you think he saw anything?’

  ‘Hard to tell,’ Dad mumbled. ‘He didn’t faint or have a heart attack, so that’s a good sign, I guess.’

  ‘I’d better go and see what he wants,’ Mum said quickly.

  Saffie and I both sat very quietly after that, straining to hear what was happening at the front door. We heard Mum open it and say hello and we heard the front doorbell being rung very loudly twice as Mum clearly took pains to demonstrate that our doorbell was in fact working.

  I looked across at my sister, who was scowling as she stared very hard out of the window. The hedge between our garden and next door’s is very high, but the roof of their shed is just visible over the top. Saffie was staring intensely at that roof.

  ‘Saffie, are you all right?’ I asked her softly. She was holding her middle as if she had a tummy ache – which she always does when she’s about to use her power to do something difficult.

  ‘I don’t like that man,’ she declared. ‘Rosie’s shed doesn’t want to live in his garden . . .’

  ‘Saffie – NO!’ Dad and I burst out at once, but as usual when she has her mind set on something she ignored us.

  Outside we could see more of our neighbours’ shed appearing as it slowly rose above the hedge. As the bottom of the shed cleared the top of the hedge we saw that Saffie had made it rise up by making it grow two very long spindly legs. But the legs were very wobbly and the shed didn’t look as if it was going to be able to stay upright on them for long. Meanwhile the shed’s two little square windows had become two round eyes, the roof was sprouting red curly hair and the door had rotated round to become an oblong mouth. Saffie always likes to give things faces when she brings them to life.

  ‘Saffie, stop it!’ I hissed at her, trembling a little.

  I’d never attempted to move anything that big myself, chiefly because I was certain I wouldn’t be able to. And though I’d known for a while that Saffie’s power was stronger than mine, this stunt exceeded even my estimation of what she could do.

  ‘Serafina, turn that shed back to normal at once,’ Dad ordered her, but he looked terrified and it was plain that he didn’t feel the least bit in control of the situation.

  ‘No, Daddy. He’ll be much happier in our garden,’ Saffie said bossily. ‘I shall call him Dennis – that’s long for Den!’ And she giggled as if she thought she was being extremely clever.

  ‘Saffie, you have to do what Dad says,’ I told her sharply. I really hate it when it’s obvious that she’s the one in charge instead of Dad.

  But she ignored me, her face pink with renewed effort as Dennis the shed lifted up one of his long, skinny legs and placed a great wooden clog of a foot down on our side of the hedge.

  ‘Well done, Dennis!’ Saffie exclaimed as he lifted his other leg and began to veer over to our side. ‘You’ve almost done it!’

  Dad lost it then. He started threatening Saffie with every completely unrealistic punishment that he could think of, including sitting on the naughty step for the rest of her life and never being allowed out of her bedroom ever again.

  Unfortunately that broke her concentration – and this task required all of that.

  ‘Stay focused, Saffie!’ I yelled, but it was too late.

  The shed instantly lost the life – and the legs – she had just given it.

  ‘Dennis!’ Saffie screamed, and all we could hear was a massive crashing and splintering of wood as the shed landed in a heap on our side of the hedge.

  When Mum finally finished her conversation with Mr Seaton she came back to join us, by which time there was nothing to see except a pile of wooden debris in our garden. Mum listened with a frown as Dad told her what had happened.

  ‘We did hear a crash but it wasn’t obvious where it was coming from,’ she said. ‘Do you think anyone saw anything?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Straight away Mum led us outside to inspect the remains of the shed.

  Dad shook his head at the mess. ‘I suppose I’ll have to take all this lot to the dump.’

  ‘Aren’t the people next door going to wonder where their shed has gone?’ I whispered.

  ‘Of course they’ll wonder,’ Mum replied, lowering her voice too as she added, ‘but I shouldn’t think they’ll guess the truth, do you?’

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, look!’ Saffie was shouting, rushing over to pull something out from under the debris. ‘It’s Rosie’s Supergirl cape!’

  She had tugged out the dusty red cape, which was attached to a bright yellow leotard with a silver star on the front. Before anyone could stop her she had rushed off into the house to try them on.

  ‘Rosie always kept her Supergirl costume hanging up on the back of the den door,’ I told my parents. ‘It was getting too small for her so she said Saffie could have it when she moved. She must have forgotten to give it to her.’

  ‘Oh, well . . . we’d better check . . . but if that’s the case then I’ll give it a wash and Saffie can keep it,’ Mum said.

  Dad looked amused. ‘You think it’s an appropriate costume for Saffie then?’

  ‘It is just a costume, Jim.’ Mum lowered her voice to a whisper again. ‘It’s not going to give her any extra powers, is it? Listen, come inside . . . there’s something I need to tell you . . .’ She started to walk back across our garden to the house, signalling for us to follow her. Once we were safely in the kitchen with the back door shut she turned to my dad. ‘Godfrey just told me that his wife is a scientist . . . a professor in fact . . . in the field of human genetics.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’ Dad looked aghast.

  ‘I know.’ Mum had a very sober look on her face.

  I waited for one of them to explain what the fuss was about, but they just kept staring silently at one other.

  ‘So what does that mean?’ I asked when it didn’t look as though either of them was going to tell me.

  Mum turned to look at me then. ‘Sorry, Emma. Human genetics is the study of how we inherit things from our parents.’

  ‘What things?’

  Mum sighed. ‘Pretty much everything, dar
ling, though the most obvious traits that get studied are things like eye colour, hair colour, height, intelligence and . . . well . . .’ She trailed off.

  And suddenly I saw why they were upset.

  ‘Special powers?’ I added in a small voice.

  Mum nodded and answered hoarsely, ‘I’m afraid so. In fact I expect a professor of human genetics would be especially interested in special powers.’

  Dad looked like he felt a bit sick. ‘And what about Godfrey? Don’t tell me he’s a scientist too.’

  ‘He works in television.’

  ‘Well,’ Dad said, ‘at least that’s not a problem.’

  But Mum’s face remained grim. ‘He was telling me the two of them met while he was working on a documentary series about scientific aberrations, human anomalies, freaks of nature and the like. Apparently they both share the same passion for “uncovering the abnormal”, as he put it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dad looked sombre.

  ‘Exactly.’ She looked at my puzzled face and explained that ‘aberration’ meant the same as ‘anomaly’, which basically just meant a difference from the normal.

  ‘Are Saffie and me anomalies?’ I asked her slowly. ‘I mean, we’re not normal, are we?’

  Mum frowned. ‘I suppose you could describe yourselves as that, although I think it would be more accurate to say that you and Saffie are exceptional human beings.’

  Dad was nodding his agreement.

  ‘So . . .’ Mum continued. ‘I think I’d better phone my mother now and ask her to come and help with Saffie as soon as possible. Unless you have any objections, Jim?’

  And this time Dad swiftly shook his head.

  Despite the unease we were all feeling I couldn’t help smiling as my little sister came downstairs while Mum was on the phone to Granny. She was dressed in Rosie’s Supergirl costume along with some accessories she’d put together herself.

  The actual costume consisted of a bright yellow long-sleeved leotard with a silver star on the front and a shiny red cape that buttoned on to the shoulders of the leotard. Saffie had added a pair of stripy tights and her shiny silver wellington boots.

  ‘Hey, Supergirl!’ Dad teased, clearly feeling cheerier himself as Saffie twirled around the living room, showing off the big letter ‘S’ on her cape. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  ‘What?’ Saffie demanded, stopping in mid-twirl to look down at her costume.

  ‘Superheroes always wear underpants on the outside of their clothes. I think red ones would look good. Emma’s sure to have a pair of nice ones you can borrow!’

  ‘Shut up, Dad!’ I shrieked, giving him a shove. ‘She is not having my pants, OK?’

  ‘Would you three please keep the noise down . . .’ Mum hissed at us, breaking off her conversation with Granny. ‘Saffie, that costume looks lovely on you but it’s still very dusty. Before you wear it again it needs to go in the wash!’

  ‘No it doesn’t!’ Saffie gave Mum a defiant glare before stomping back up the stairs. Sometimes when Saffie finds an outfit that she particularly likes, she insists on wearing it all the time and she’ll even go to bed in it rather than let Mum put it in the wash. Mum says it’s just a phase she’s going through and that she’ll grow out of it.

  I looked at Dad, who gave me a wink, because we both knew that Mum was going to have a battle on her hands at bedtime that night.

  I quickly followed my sister upstairs and knocked on her door before going in. I had decided that I wanted Howard back. I hadn’t really wanted to give him to Saffie in the first place, but Mum had persuaded me. She’d said she hoped Howard would have a steadying influence on Saffie and her dolls. But since I couldn’t see any sign of that, and Saffie hardly ever bothered to play with him, I’d decided enough was enough.

  Saffie was busy raking through her underwear drawer, throwing out knickers. She had obviously taken Dad’s comment seriously.

  ‘All my red pants have got flowers or fairies on them,’ she complained.

  ‘What about these?’ I said, picking up a pair from the floor. But it turned out they had ‘Tuesday’ on the front because they came from her Days of the Week set and, as she was quick to tell me indignantly, she didn’t just want to be a superhero on Tuesdays!

  So for the sec that day I f my conce on H an

  ‘I’ll see if I’ve got a plain red pair you can borrow,’ I said. ‘But, Saffie, please can I have Howard back since you never play with him?’

  She nodded, so I went to pick him up from her window ledge before she could change her mind.

  I took him straight back to my bedroom, where I sat him down on the bed and decided I really wanted to bring him to life. So for the second time that day I focused all my concentration on Howard, and was rewarded by having him blink at me before twisting his neck to look around my room.

  ‘Welcome back, Howie. You’re going to stay here with me from now on,’ I told him fondly as I watched him take in his surroundings.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ he said in his deep growly voice, giving me a grateful glance. ‘Those dolls were making my head ache with their constant bickering.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I gave you away, Howie,’ I added. ‘Mum was begging me to do it and eventually I gave in. She knows you’re a really sensible bear, you see, and she was hoping you might have a good influence on Saffie.’

  Howard bunched together his black stitched eyebrows. ‘It will take more than a sensible toy to tame that young lady.’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘That’s why Mum’s asking Granny to come and stay with us.’

  Howard frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea either. Still . . . I suppose your mother knows what she’s doing. Now . . . there’s one thing I really must ask of you, Emma . . .’ His voice became as gentle as a bear’s voice could reasonably be expected to be as he continued, ‘My dearest girl, will you please stop calling me Howie. I know it’s your pet name for me, but I really prefer Howard. Howard is a much more sensible and grown-up name and I am after all an extremely sensible and grown-up bear.’ And he puffed out his chest rather proudly.

  I felt my face go a little bit pink as I apologized and assured him that I would try to remember to call him by his proper name from now on.

  ‘Granny! Granny!’ Saffie and I exclaimed, rushing down our front path ahead of Mum the following afternoon.

  ‘Come here, my darlings,’ Granny cooed, holding out her arms for us to run into them. ‘Good grief, Serafina! Whatever are you wearing?’

  Saffie was still wearing her new Supergirl outfit, which Mum still hadn’t managed to get in the wash, complete with blue underpants over the top because neither of us had been able to find any red ones. She looked just like a character from a comic strip.

  Granny was looking exactly the same as usual. She’s quite tall and quite plump in the middle, and she has thick dark hair and almond-shaped green eyes, which Dad says are just like a cat’s. She also likes to sit in the sun a lot like a cat, which Dad says is the reason her face is quite wrinkly. She doesn’t wear a special cape, or a wacky hat, or carry a super-strong handbag to whack villains with as you might expect a supergranny to do. But she did seem to be in possession of a strange new mode of transport.

  ‘Mother, is that vehicle actually yours?’ Mum asked in amazement as she stared at the small orange van parked in front of our house.

  ‘Do you like it? Much more suitable than my old Mini, don’t you think? This way I can take the whole family along when I go anywhere!’

  ‘You don’t mean . . .’ Mum looked at her quizzically.

  ‘My boys, of course! After all, judging by what you said in your phone call I may be here for some time. I couldn’t bear to leave them behind. Besides, one never knows when they might come in useful.’ She opened the back of her van for us to look inside.

  ‘Wow!’ Saffie exclaimed in delight as we saw that it contained Granny’s collection of garden gnomes. There were eleven little statues in total. ‘Where’s Walter?’ Saff
ie asked when she saw that her favourite gnome was missing.

  ‘Oh, I decided to leave him at home with your grandpa. Every time I bring that gnome to life he starts bossing all the other gnomes about. He has a very strong will of his own, I’m afraid!’

  ‘Is that because you’ve brought him to life too many times, Granny?’ I asked, remembering what she’d taught me about how our powers worked.

  Granny nodded. ‘I fear that is probably the case, Emma. He was my very first gnome, as you know, and I did rather spoil him.’

  Mum was standing listening to all this with her mouth hanging open. ‘Mother, I don’t think Jim—’ she began.

  ‘Leave Jim to me, my dear,’ Granny interrupted her swiftly. ‘We’ll leave the boys here for now and move them later. They’re going to have a splendid time in your lovely secluded garden! Now where is my favourite son-in-law?’

  But Dad had spotted her new van from the window and was already on his way outside to have a closer look. The second he reached Granny he joked, ‘I see you’ve got yourself a new Batmobile! Interesting colour choice!’

  And judging by the look Granny gave him I guessed he was probably only her favourite son-in-law because she didn’t have any others.

  As you’ve probably realized, unlike Dad my sister and I couldn’t be happier when Granny comes to stay. For one thing it’s great to have a grown-up around who has the same superpower we do – and who actually encourages us to use it.

  As Granny was quick to point out that evening at dinner, she believes Saffie and I should learn how to put our special powers to good use in order to help people.

  ‘Like Superman does, you mean?’ I asked at once.

  ‘No,’ Mum replied firmly before Granny had time to speak. ‘Not like Superman does. Superman has lots of enemies and he’s always getting himself into very dangerous situations.’