by Jean Ure
“So what are you going to wear?” I said.
“I don’t know!” Em held up the various garments she’d pulled out of her wardrobe. “What do you think? Would these do?”
She waved a pair of jeans at me. I inspected them critically. I am not an expert in fashion. Fashion is not really something that plays much of a part in our lives. As far as Dad and Cass are concerned, it doesn’t even exist. But I do have a bit more of a clue than Em. Being long and skinny, Em is very sensitive about her appearance. She doesn’t have much confidence. Even though she is two years older than I am she is always turning to me for advice.
Anxiously, she said, “So what do you think?”
“Jeans’ll be OK,” I said. “So long as you have a nice top.”
“This?”
She held up a big chunky sweater that Gran had knitted for her. Em likes big chunky sweaters – she reckons they’ll hide the fact that she doesn’t have any bosom. I told her yes, OK, cos I mean there is absolutely no sense trying to turn people into something they are not. And in any case, Cass always says it’s important to feel comfortable in your clothes. Dress Em up like a model and she would just die of embarrassment.
“Are you sure?” she said. “I wouldn’t want Dad being ashamed of me! I—”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I hustled her back into her room. “Just get dressed … quickly. That was Dad’s car. They’re here!”
We hurtled downstairs just in time to greet Dad and Caroline as they came through the door.
“Everything’s on!” I cried. I wanted to set Dad’s mind at rest – I knew how anxious he was. “It’s being cooked right now.”
“Whatever it is,” said Caroline, “it smells delicious.”
“It’s a pie,” I said. “Steak and kidney!”
“Ooh, yum! Exactly what one needs on a cold night.”
I beamed. “That’s what we thought.”
Dad said, “Jolly good! Steak and kidney, eh?”
“Well, you know … m—”
I was about to say mock steak and kidney, but I suddenly remembered that we were hoping Caroline would think it was chicken.
“Actually, I forgot,” I said. “It was going to be steak and kidney, but then at the last minute we changed it to chicken and mushroom.”
“Still sounds delicious,” said Caroline.
“It will be,” I promised. “Cass is a really good cook!”
“Yes. Well.” Dad sounded as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of everything. “Bitsy, could you take Caroline’s coat and hang it somewhere?”
I said, “Where?”
“In the – um – closet?” said Dad.
What closet? I didn’t know what a closet was! I didn’t think we had one. We usually draped coats and stuff over the banisters, but maybe Caroline wouldn’t like that.
“I’ll take it upstairs,” I said.
I cantered back up. When I came down I found Em hovering.
“We weren’t supposed to lie,” she hissed.
“’bout what?”
“The pie! Cass said … she didn’t think we ought to lie about it.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Yes, you did, you said it was chicken and mushroom.”
“That’s all right. Soon as we’ve finished I’ll tell her the truth.” I giggled. “She won’t half be surprised!”
“She might be cross,” said Em. “I would be, like, if someone gave me meat and pretended it was something else.”
“That’s cos you’ve got principles,” I said. “People don’t have principles about eating vegetables.”
“All the same,” said Em.
Oh dear! Em is such a worrier.
We went into the sitting room to find Caroline holding out my sherry glass I’d so lovingly polished so that Dad could pour sherry into it. Hah! I knew it would come in useful.
“Do you think Cass would like any help in the kitchen?” she said.
Dad very quickly said, “No, no! And if she does the girls are here to give her a hand.”
He probably didn’t want Caroline seeing the mess the kitchen was in. We always make a mess when we cook. I reckon all the best chefs do.
“I’ll go,” said Em. She pulled a face at me as she left the room. She was going to tell Cass that I’d pretended we were having real chicken in the pie. I just knew she was. Well, so what? I bet when people eat in restaurants they’re given all sorts of stuff they don’t get told about.
I went over to the sofa to sit with Caroline.
“My,” she said, “that is a real miniskirt, isn’t it. What you might call a mini miniskirt!”
Dad looked at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen it.
“It is a bit on the short side,” he said. “Did Cass buy it for you?”
I said, “No, I bought it for myself. Lottie’s got one as well. I’ve had it for ages.”
“You presumably don’t go out in it?” said Caroline.
“I should hope not!” said Dad.
“I …” I hesitated, not quite sure what to say. Was there something wrong with going out in it? I was saved by Cass coming through from the kitchen.
She said, “Oh really, Donald! Don’t be such a prude. She always wears leggings with it, or thick tights.Absolutely nothing to get fussed about! Hello, Caroline. Good to see you again. Dinner won’t be long; just finishing it off.”
Dad, sounding puzzled, said, “If she’s had it all this time, why haven’t I seen it before?”
“Because you go round with your eyes closed,” said Cass. “I’m afraid, Caroline, this brother of mine is so wrapped up in the eighteenth century he really has no idea what’s going on in the real world.”
Caroline laughed. She said, “Tell me about it! Anyone who can reverse into somebody twice in just two minutes …”
I liked that she could laugh about Dad reversing into her. Not everybody would. She was obviously a very tolerant, good-natured sort of person. Not someone who would lose patience with Dad when he couldn’t find his front-door key or forgot to put petrol in the car, both of which had happened in the past week. I decided that Caroline was exactly what he needed!
I was glad, though, that Cass had spoken up in defence of my skirt. Just for a minute I had started to feel a bit self-conscious, thinking that maybe it was indecent or something. I knew it couldn’t be, or Lottie’s mum would never have let Lottie buy one. As mums go, she is quite strict. But I didn’t want Caroline to think badly of me. At school recently we’d been discussing role models and I’d decided that that’s what Caroline was – my role model. She was so smart, and so cool, and so … sophisticated! I really wanted to make a good impression on her.
Em stuck her head round the door and said, “Shall I start bringing things in?”
“I’ll help!” I went racing after her into the kitchen. “I suppose you went and told her?” I hissed.
“Told her what?”
“About me saying it was chicken and mushroom!”
“All I said,” said Em, “was are we supposed to be telling her the truth or not? OK? Here! Take the sprouts. And don’t go dropping them.”
“Oh, this looks very tasty,” said Caroline, as we all took our places. The pie sat steaming in its dish, the top all beautifully brown and crusty, with little pastry roses decorating it. Cass had gone to such a lot of trouble.
“I hope it meets with your approval,” she said, passing Caroline a plate. “I don’t want to mislead you … it’s not actually real chicken.”
“It’s not?” said Dad. He sounded a bit put out. “Bitsy? I thought you said it was!”
Em looked at me, rather hard.
“Just for once,” said Dad, “it might have been nice.” He turned apologetically to Caroline. “I’m afraid I live in a house full of mad veggies,” he said.
“You’re one too!” cried Em.
“Not through choice,” said Dad. “They bully me, you know. I have no say in the matter, I just have to eat what I’m giv
en.”
“I’m sure it will still be delicious,” said Caroline.
I kept shooting little glances at her as she ate. I think she enjoyed it. At any rate, she cleared her plate. She didn’t come back for seconds, though. I did! But I am quite a greedy sort of person. You don’t get to be as slim as Caroline by gorging yourself.
Triumphantly, as Cass began to clear away the dishes, I said, “If you hadn’t been told it wasn’t chicken I bet you wouldn’t have known, would you?”
“Well … I think I probably would have done,” said Caroline, “but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t very lovely.”
“But how could you tell?” I said. “It looks like chicken.”
“I suppose it doesn’t quite … taste like it.”
“Chicken tastes of blood,” said Em.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Dad threw up his hands. “Do we have to?”
“I’m just saying,” said Em. “It’s full of stale blood.”
“Em!” Cass jerked her head. “Help me take the dishes out.”
I jumped up. “I’ll go and get the pudding!”
I was so proud of my possets. I carried them through triumphantly on a tray.
“Bitsy made these herself,” said Cass.
“Ah, the famous possets!” Dad rubbed his hands. “They always go down well.”
I said, “Yes, cos it’s real lemon and real sugar and real cream.”
“What else could it be?” said Em.
“Could be soya cream.”
“Oh! I never thought of that. Maybe next time—”
“No.” Dad snatched a couple of pots and handed one to Caroline. “Don’t go and ruin a good thing.”
“I just thought—”
“Not now,” said Cass. “Let Caroline enjoy her pudding.”
As soon as I started on my posset, Bella appeared. With one bound she was up beside me, nearly pulling the tablecloth off in the process.
“Good gracious,” said Caroline. “A cat on the table?”
Dad frowned. “Bitsy, put her down.”
“Dad!” Em looked at him reproachfully. “You know we don’t say that. She’ll think we’re taking her to the vet to be …”
“Murdered,” I said.
“Euthanised,” said Dad.
“It means the same thing!” Em was getting quite worked up. “Just don’t say it.”
Em is very protective where Bella is concerned. Well, with all animals, really. She is going to be a vet when she grows up.
Dad shook his head, like, What can you do? “Just put her on the floor,” he said. “We don’t have cats up here while we’re eating.”
I opened my mouth to object cos, I mean, Bella is used to joining us on the table no matter what Dad said, but Cass, sitting next to me, gave me a warning jab.
“Just do what your dad says.”
I set Bella on the ground. She immediately jumped back up again.
Dad said, “Bitsy …”
I said, “Yes, all right! She just wants a bit of posset.” I dug out a blob with my finger and gave it to her to lick. She purred appreciatively. “Lemon possets are one of her favourites,” I said. “She’d live on them if she could!”
Caroline said, “Really? It surely can’t be good for her.”
“It’s the cream,” I said. “Cats love cream.”
“But it’s so fattening! No wonder she has a bit of a tum.”
It was true, I suppose. Bella’s tummy does sometimes wobble slightly as she walks.
“She’s not fat,” I said earnestly. “It’s mostly fur. Feel!” I held Bella out to her, but Dad intervened.
“I did tell you, Bitsy, to put her on the floor.”
“I’ll put her on the sofa,” I said. “She’ll be happy there. When we first had her,” I told Caroline, “we called her Belle o’ the Ball. Now Dad says she’s Bella the Ball! But she does have very thick fur.” I added this quickly before Em could give me another of her looks. Bella is mainly her cat and she won’t let anyone say anything bad about her.
“Well, now,” said Cass, “if everyone’s eaten enough I’ll go and put the coffee on. Bits, do you want to give me a hand?”
“Caroline hasn’t finished!” I said. She’d only eaten half her posset.
“No, no, I’m through.” Caroline pushed her plate away from her. “It was lovely, but I’m just too full up after all that pie.”
“I don’t think she liked it,” I whispered to Cass as we went through to the kitchen.
“Oh, she’s just worried about putting on a few extra kilos,” said Cass. “She’d probably have been far happier with a glass of water and a couple of grapes. Peeled.”
I gazed at Cass doubtfully, not sure whether she was being serious or just joking.
“Stop looking so woebegone!” Cass gave me a hug. “She’s a very figure-conscious lady … I bet she won’t take either milk or sugar in her coffee! Go and check with her.”
I skipped back into the sitting room to see Caroline lowering herself into one of the armchairs. As she did so, she gave a little squeak.
“Ooh, what’s this?”
Gingerly she slid her hand down the side and held something up.
“Oh!” I said. “My dividers! From my geometry set. I wondered where they’d gone.”
Dad, rather crossly, said, “For goodness’ sake, Bitsy! You really must be more careful. That could have caused a nasty accident.”
Embarrassed, I muttered that I was very sorry.
“Not to worry,” said Caroline. “No harm done. Tell me, as a matter of interest, why does everyone call you Bitsy when your name is Flora?”
Em said, “Hah!”
“You can tell her,” I said, “if you want.” She was obviously bursting to.
“OK! It’s cos once when she was little,” explained Em, “Dad asked Cass if we had any bitter chocolate. He said he really fancied some bitter chocolate. So Cass said we didn’t have any cos, like, nobody had ever asked for it before, so Flora goes toddling off and comes back all triumphant with two squares of Cadbury’s milk saying, ‘Look, Dad, bit o’ chocolate!’”
“And she’s been Bitsy ever since,” said Dad fondly.
“Well, it’s a sweet story,” said Caroline, “but I’m going to call her Flora. I think it’s a pity to have such a pretty name and not use it! Like Emily. That’s another pretty name.” She smiled at us. “Emily and Flora! How about it?”
“You can always try,” said Cass.
“I intend to!”
I wondered how I would feel about being called Flora after being Bitsy for so long. Everyone called me Bitsy! Well, not teachers, of course, but everyone in my class. Maybe if I was Flora I would have a bit more dignity, instead of just being a small round person that no one took any notice of.
After Dad had left to take Caroline home, we all sat round discussing how the evening had gone. Had it been a success? Sadly, we came to the conclusion that it hadn’t.
“I know she didn’t like her pudding,” I said. “Anyone that really enjoyed it would have gobbled up the whole pot. They wouldn’t be able to help it!”
Cass sighed and said she probably hadn’t enjoyed her mock pie, either. “It was a big mistake. I should have given her real meat.”
“But this is a meat-free zone,” said Em.
“But she was our guest!”
“I just don’t see how anyone could tell that it wasn’t real meat,” I said. “Not if they hadn’t been told.”
“Course, you know what really didn’t help?” said Em. “Someone going and leaving half their geometry set down the side of the chair. Imagine if she’d got stabbed in an artery!”
“Well, but she didn’t,” I said.
“She could have done.”
“Well, but she didn’t.”
“To think we spent all that time tidying up,” sighed Cass. “How did we manage to miss it? And then letting that cat jump on the table!”
Em immediately sprang to Bella’s defenc
e. “You can’t blame Bella! She always jumps on the table.”
“You didn’t have to go and feed her.”
“I didn’t feed her!” Em sent me a venomous stare. “She did.”
“Well, she shouldn’t,” said Cass. “It’s not good for her. You heard what Caroline said … she’s getting fat.”
“She is not!” Em snatched Bella off the sofa and cradled her lovingly in her arms. “She’s just right!”
“I don’t care, she still shouldn’t be on the table. And we shouldn’t have to spend hours tidying up. The place should never be allowed to get in that state to begin with. What on earth must she think of us?”
We were all very crestfallen. Normally we’d have left the washing-up till morning, but for once, without even having to be asked, me and Em got started on it straight away, while Cass cleaned up the kitchen. After that, still rather subdued, we went to bed. Em was clutching Bella; I for some reason was clutching my geometry set. I was going to have nightmares now, thinking of Caroline being stabbed in an artery.
In fact I must have fallen asleep the minute my head touched the pillow and gone on sleeping all night, cos the next thing I knew, it was morning and Em was telling me to get up.
“Dad has something he wants to discuss with us … something important. About Caroline!”
“I’ve had a word with Cass,” said Dad. “Now I need to have a word with you two.”
We both turned wonderingly to Cass in search of clues.
“It’s all right,” said Cass. “You don’t have to look so apprehensive! It’s actually something quite exciting. OK, I’m off to work; Becky’s expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you all later.”
Dad waited until Cass had gone, then very solemnly told us to sit down.
“This is important. I need your full attention.”
Something exciting, Cass had said. For one mad moment I had this fantasy that we had won the lottery and that Dad was going to ask us how we thought we should spend the money.
“OK! Right. Now! How would you feel,” said Dad, “about Caroline moving in?”
We gaped. I could feel my mouth dropping open.
“You mean, like … to live with us?”