Jelly Baby
Page 5
“I wouldn’t exactly say I was forced,” said Dad. “It’s just – well!” He grinned hopefully at us. “Anything for a quiet life!”
“Are you saying Cass nagged you?” said Em.
“She wouldn’t,” I said. “Cass never nagged!”
“That’s all you know!” said Dad with a chuckle. But Em didn’t smile, and I didn’t, either. He was being really disloyal. Cass had always said that it was up to us.
“OK, OK!” Dad looked a bit ashamed of himself. “It’s true, she didn’t nag, but she was the one who took care of all that side of things so it just seemed … easier somehow.”
“Line of least resistance.” Caroline nodded. “So how about it?” She waved the fork to and fro, with the prawn wobbling about on the end. If Bella had been there she would have snatched it like a shot and made off, but Bella was shut away in the kitchen. Caroline said a cat on the table was more than she could take. “Just one tiny little bite! Who’s going to be brave?”
Em recoiled. You’d have thought there was a live worm wriggling on the end of the fork.
“Oh, come on,” said Caroline, “it won’t hurt you!”
“It’s not that.” Em said it apologetically, like she didn’t want to sound rude or ungracious. “It’s just that we don’t eat things that have faces.”
Caroline gave one of her tinkling laughs. “Prawns don’t have faces!”
Em bit her lip. I rushed to her rescue. “They do,” I said. “Honestly! If you look at them … they have little eyes. And whiskers.”
“They may have whiskers,” said Caroline, “but you can hardly claim they have feelings. All they are is lumps of muscle.”
I felt myself waver. It is certainly difficult to think of a prawn as being happy, for instance, or sad.
Em, recovering herself, sat forward again. “Maybe if superior beings came here from another planet, they’d think we were just lumps of muscle that didn’t have any feelings.”
“They’d soon discover differently,” said Caroline. “Just a few tests would show them.”
I said, “Yes, cos if they went and stuck forks in us we’d scream. Prawns don’t scream.”
Em turned on me witheringly. “How do you know? Just because you can’t hear them! They could be supersonic, like bats.”
“Got you there,” said Dad.
“I think we’d know if they were supersonic.” Caroline was still holding out her prawn, waving it in front of me. “Flora? Are you quite sure?”
I might as well admit, I was tempted. Just to see what it tasted like. Whether it would be soft and gooey, or hard and crunchy. But Em was giving me this really scorching glare, so I forced myself to shake my head and primly said no thank you.
“Oh well, suit yourself.” Caroline popped the prawn into her mouth and chewed. It seemed to me that I could hear it squeak, but I must have been imagining it. The prawn was dead. Dead prawns can’t squeak.
“You know, I can’t help thinking,” said Caroline, “that a bit of meat would do you good. I’m not asking you to gorge! Maybe just a couple of times a week. What do you reckon?”
She glanced across at Dad. Dad shrugged his shoulders. “You’re welcome to try and persuade them.”
“Emily in particular,” said Caroline. “She looks to me as if she might be almost anaemic.”
“What’s anaemic?” I said.
“Not enough red blood cells.”
We all turned to look at Em. She had her head bent over her salad, her hair falling over her face.
“She’s always been pale,” said Dad.
“Well, but if she could just bring herself to eat a bit of meat now and again, it might actually put some colour in her cheeks. It might even help her hair.”
I squirmed on Em’s behalf. Em is really sensitive about her hair. It’s pure silver and really pretty, but it’s also very fine and dead straight so that it either lies totally flat or flies about in wisps. Unlike mine, which is only boring mouse – but as thick as a door mat or one of those carpets where your feet sink in as you walk across them.
“Something else,” said Caroline. “She could do with putting on a bit of weight. Unlike little Jelly Baby here.” She leant across and playfully patted my tummy. “You’re getting to be quite a roly-poly! It’s all those chocolate bars and fattening puds.”
I felt my face grow slowly crimson. Em peered at me sympathetically through her curtain of hair. Dad, meanwhile, had burst into song.
“Emily Pratt would eat no fat,
Her sister ate no lean.
One was thin as a piece of string,
And one was a plump little bean!”
“Beans aren’t plump,” I said.
“Jelly beans are,” said Dad.
“Donald.” Caroline smacked at him reprovingly. “I didn’t say Flora was plump. Just in danger of becoming a little podgy. Emily, on the other hand, is definitely too thin. If she put on a bit of weight she could wear more attractive clothes, instead of covering herself up all the time in those frumpy sweaters.”
Em by now was positively cringing. I cringed with her. Em is not only sensitive about her hair, but sensitive generally about the way she looks. She is a very long person. Long and skinny. She takes after Dad, whereas I take after our mum. In all Mum’s photos she is shown as being quite short and chubby. She is also very pretty, which I would like to think I am too, but as nobody has ever mentioned it, I have to accept that I probably am not. The best thing people ever say about me is that I have a cheeky face. I suppose that is meant as a compliment.
“What we have to watch out for,” said Caroline, “is that she doesn’t become anorexic.”
“Anorexic?” Dad was starting to sound alarmed. “You’re not getting anorexic, are you, Em? I mean, Emily?”
Em didn’t say anything, just bent her head back over her plate. I leapt to her defence.
“She’s just a naturally thin kind of person! She’s always been a thin kind of person.”
“Like you’ve always been a plumpkin,” said Dad fondly. “It’s just the way they’re made,” he told Caroline. “I don’t think there’s any problem.”
Caroline shook her head. “I’m not saying there is. I’m just saying, Emily could do with filling out a bit. And little Jelly Baby could do with fewer chocolate bars! That’s all.”
I tried talking about it to Em later. I just wanted to show that I felt for her. I said, “It’s not fair Caroline telling you you’re too thin. She’s every bit as skinny as you are. And you eat lemon possets, which is more than she does. She doesn’t eat anything at all, hardly.”
“She eats meat,” said Em. “She thinks it’s good for you. Lots of people do.”
I said, “Cass didn’t.”
“Cass was different,” said Em. “You can’t keep going on about Cass all the time. You’ve got to learn to accept things the way they are. Caroline’s trying really hard.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
“She didn’t have to take us up to town.”
“I know,” I said. “I know!”
“And she bought the best seats.”
“I know.”
“And she had to take time off work.”
“I know, I know!”
“So why are you having a go at her?”
“Cos she was having a go at you! Saying about your hair and everything.”
Two spots of colour appeared in Em’s cheeks. “She was just trying to show that she cares.”
Like saying I was a jelly baby. And Dad agreeing!
I was still brooding about it at bedtime when Em came into my room and rather shyly said, “Look what Caroline’s given me.”
“What?”
“It’s this special treatment that makes your hair thick. She says she’s tried it on hers and it really works. I looked it up on the internet,” said Em. “It’s ever so expensive! So don’t you think that’s nice of her?”
I did, cos it was. She was a really nice person! And we’d had such a good day. I
was just so pleased it had ended happily.
When we got back to school after half term I told Lottie about Caroline taking us up to town to see The Lion King.
“I’m going to see that,” said Lottie. “On my birthday! Mum’s promised.”
“I hope she’s already got tickets,” I said, “cos they’re really hard to get. Caroline booked ours weeks ago.” She had obviously done it right back when she first moved in. All that time she’d been planning it as a special treat! “We were ever so close to the stage,” I said. “I’ve never sat that close before. It must have cost stacks of money.”
I wasn’t boasting! I just wanted Lottie to know how lovely Caroline would be.
“And then she gave Em some special stuff for her hair,” I said, “to stop it being all limp and floppy. That cost stacks of money too! Em looked it up on the internet.”
“Does it work?” said Lottie.
“Dunno yet. She hasn’t used it.” Caroline had said that it worked, but Caroline’s hair wasn’t as thin as Em’s, plus she wore it all piled up in a kind of parcel thing on top of her head, which made it difficult to tell. “Anyway,” I said, “it’s the thought that counts.”
“Sounds as though you’re getting on really well,” said Lottie. “In spite of all the cleaning and stuff. My mum says having to do housework must have come as a rude shock.”
Oh? What did Lottie’s mum know about it?
“She always says your house looks like a hurricane has gone through it.”
What cheek! “For your information,” I said, “Cass reckons housework is a boring waste of time. And so do I, if you want to know! I only do it to make Caroline happy.”
“What would she do if you said you weren’t going to?” said Lottie. And then, answering her own question, “She’d probably complain to your dad. What would your dad do? Would he take her side or yours?” Before I could say anything, she’d gone and answered herself yet again. “I bet he’d take hers! They always do.”
What was she on about?
I said, “Who?”
“Dads.” Lottie said it bitterly. “They always side with mums.”
Ah ha! I could guess what had happened here. Lottie had obviously done something to upset her mum, and her mum had gone to her dad, and her dad had taken her mum’s side and Lottie was feeling aggrieved. But, as I pointed out, Caroline wasn’t our mum.
“She will be,” said Lottie. “Soon as they get married.”
“Not our real mum,” I said. “Only our stepmum.”
“Comes to the same thing.”
It did not! How could anyone say that a stepmum was the same as a real mum?
“What I mean,” said Lottie, “is she’ll still be the one your dad sides with. I bet he sides with her right now! I bet if you said you weren’t going to do any vacuuming or dusting or washing-up cos you reckoned it was a waste of time, I bet he’d say you’d got to.”
Rather coldly I said, “So what?”
“Nothing! I’m just saying.”
“So what is your point?”
“There isn’t any point. It’s just a conversation.”
“About what? Exactly?”
“About Caroline!” Lottie plunged her arm through mine. “When am I going to see her? I’m dying to see her!”
“She’ll be coming next week,” I said. “You can see her then.”
Next week we had Parents’ Evening for Year Seven. Caroline had asked me whether I’d mind if she came with Dad.
“I’d love to see your school and meet some of your teachers. But if you’d rather I didn’t, I’ll understand.”
Dad had said, “Of course you must come! You’re part of the family.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that Caroline would be interested. Truth to tell, I felt quite flattered.
“Bits?” Dad had looked at me rather anxiously. “You don’t mind if Caroline comes, do you?”
I said, “No! I’d like her to.”
I could see immediately that Dad was pleased. He was really eager for me and Em to get on with Caroline. Specially me. He didn’t worry so much about Em. She wasn’t likely to play up or go into a sulk or get all stroppy and resentful. Well, and neither was I! Dad didn’t realise that Caroline was my role model. Apart from anything else, I wanted to show her off to Lottie! And to the rest of my year.
Back in juniors they’d only ever seen Cass, and however much I loved Cass I had to admit she wasn’t the coolest person on earth. At home she mostly wore jeans and sweat shirts, which was what suited her best. But when she went out, like to parents’ evenings, she would feel she had to make an effort and look smart. Unfortunately, like Dad, Cass didn’t have much dress sense. Her idea of looking smart was long shapeless skirts and woolly tops, usually hand-knitted.
Em would say it was pathetic and small-minded to care about such things, and I never really did until Caroline came into our lives. Caroline just had this most amazing effect on people. It was like she was some kind of mini celeb. As soon as we walked into the assembly hall on Parents’ Evening I could feel people swivelling round to look at us. I saw Peony James’s eyes nearly fall out of her head, like, Who is THAT? I saw her turn and nudge Zena Walker, and Zena’s head snap round and her jaw fall open. It made me feel so good! I didn’t care if it was small-minded.
Peony James and Zena Walker are these two really obnoxious people in my class. Think they’re the cat’s whiskers and the rest of us are just, like, piles of vomit under their feet. They were used to me turning up with Dad looking all shaggy, like a walking haystack, and Cass in her shapeless skirts. Thanks to Caroline, Dad now looked almost smart. Not totally smart cos he is quite a shambling sort of person, but at least he’d stopped being a haystack. I had to admit, it was an improvement!
As for Caroline, she was by far the smartest person in the whole room. I couldn’t help a little surge of satisfaction. My dad’s girlfriend! Soon to be my stepmum! And everyone’s eyes were just riveted.
She was wearing this beautiful suit, deep dark pink, with a white shirt and a pair of her very expensive designer shoes, the sort with spiky heels and pointy toes. She had her hair, which was very black and glossy, piled on top of her head and held in place with a sparkly comb. I honestly couldn’t see why she would have needed the special hair-thickening stuff she’d given Em. Her hair looked perfectly thick enough to me. Perhaps she hadn’t really used it at all. Perhaps that was just what she’d told Em, to help Em feel better about herself. A way of making up for saying she looked as if she didn’t have enough red blood cells.
While Dad and Caroline were talking to one of the teachers, Lottie came whizzing across the hall. She hissed in my ear.
“Is that her?”
I told her that it was. Lottie said, “Wow.” A great warm gush of pride came flooding over me.
Lottie went scudding back across the hall to her mum and dad. Her mum looked up and saw me and waved. I waved back. I was almost, like, bursting.
“Hey!” Someone was poking me in the ribs. Peony James. “Who’s that?” she said. “With your dad?”
Trying to sound offhand I said, “That’s Caroline. My dad’s girlfriend.”
“Is she a model?”
I was tempted to say yes, but you never know when a lie is going to come back and bite you, so I said no, she ran an employment agency.
“Cool!” said Peony.
In the car on the way home Caroline said, “Who was the girl who came over and spoke to you?”
“That was Lottie,” I said. “She’s my best friend.”
“Extraordinarily pretty,” said Caroline.
I blinked. Excuse me? She was talking about Lottie? Lots is my best friend ever and I would dive into an icy pond to rescue her from drowning without so much as a second thought, but I honestly wouldn’t have said she was pretty. Not even just a little bit. Certainly not extraordinarily so.
“Give it a couple of years,” said Caroline, “the boys won’t be able to keep away from her!”
“How about the other one?” said Caroline. “The one that rushed over and squeaked at you and went rushing off again. Little gnome-like one?”
Oh. Dad chuckled, and even I had to stop myself giggling. Lottie does look a bit like a gnome. She is very short and stubby, even shorter and stubbier than I am, with a little round face and big pouchy cheeks.
“Is she another of your friends?” said Caroline.
I said, “That was Lottie. She’s the one I thought you meant.”
“Oh!” Caroline sounded amused. “So who was the pretty one?”
In tones of deep loathing I said, “That was Peony James.”
“I take it she’s not a friend?”
I said, “No way!”
“Lottie and B— I mean Flora! Flora!” Dad tapped himself sharply on the side of the head. Just as well he wasn’t driving; though mostly, these days, Caroline didn’t let him. “Lottie and Flora go way back. They’ve known each other since Reception.”
“In that case, why don’t you ask her over?” said Caroline. “How about this Friday? She could spend the night, if you like. Have a sleepover. Isn’t that what you call them? Sleepovers?”
“They don’t sleep,” said Dad. “They stay awake all night yattering.”
“That’s all right,” said Caroline. “They can yatter. How about Emily? Does she have anyone she’d like to invite?”
“Does she?” As usual, Dad had to turn to me for an answer. He really doesn’t know what is going on around him.
I said, “Don’t you remember? Her friend Janis isn’t there any more. She left last term.” Cass would have known.
“So who is she friends with now?”
“Not sure,” I said.
Dad sighed. “It’s so hard to keep up with them.”
“What about boys?” said Caroline. “Does she not have a boyfriend?”
She made it sound like there was something wrong if you didn’t have a boyfriend by the time you were Em’s age.