Jelly Baby

by Jean Ure

  “You could,” I said. “He listens to you.”

  Cass bit her lip. “I don’t know. It might not be wise. I really shouldn’t interfere; it’s none of my business any more. It’s between your dad and Caroline.”

  We’d almost reached the station.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Cass. “Just keep an eye on Em for me. Will you do that?”

  I nodded.

  “And stand by her. You know? She needs your support.”

  “I always support her,” I said. “I’m not going to eat meat any more than she is!”

  “Oh, Bitsy, that’s not what I meant. What you eat is entirely up to you!”

  “But I won’t,” I said. “I won’t!” Even if Caroline was my role model.

  “Just watch out for your sister,” begged Cass.

  I didn’t see it as odd, Cass asking me to watch out for Em. Em may be cleverer than I am, and of course she is older, but she takes things too much to heart. That is what Cass always says. Em cares too much. She is too nice. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always pay to be nice. That is the conclusion I have come to. Sometimes I think it is better to be a tough cookie and fight your corner.

  Next morning when Em got up she was all wheezing and spluttering. It’s how she gets when she is bothered or upset. She sounded like a set of bagpipes coming into the kitchen.

  “Oh, my goodness,” said Caroline. “What’s brought this on?”

  I could have told her what had brought it on. It was all the pressure she was under to give in and make people happy. It was people going on at her.

  “Do you need the doctor?” Caroline hovered, anxiously. “Shall I call him?”

  “It’s all right,” said Dad, “she’s just a bit allergic. Aren’t you, kiddo?”

  Dad ruffled Em’s hair. He has never learnt that Em hates it when people do that. She takes ages trying to arrange her hair so that it looks good. Just the least little pat, or even a puff of wind, can then go and mess it all up. But Dad has hair like straw, so what would he know?

  “Is she going to be all right for school?” said Caroline.

  “What d’you reckon?” said Dad. “Think you ought to stay home?”

  Em shook her head. She is one of those strange people who just hates being off school.

  “Well, make sure you’ve got your inhaler. Bitsy, you’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?”

  So now Dad was asking me too! Of course I promised I would, though really and truly, once we’re at school, we don’t see that much of each other.

  “I think she should stay at home,” said Caroline.

  “No!” Em shook her head again; quite violently this time. “I want to go!”

  “It’s not so much a question of what you want,” said Caroline, “as of what’s good for you.”

  If she kept on like that she would make Em even more upset. Em can be quite stubborn.

  “Bitsy’ll watch out for her,” said Dad. He made another move to ruffle Em’s hair. Em dodged, just in time. “Take it easy, OK?”

  By the time we arrived home from school Em was back to normal, but Caroline had obviously been going over things in her mind.

  “I can’t help feeling,” she said, “that it’s not very wise to have the cat sleeping with her at night.”

  Em looked stricken.

  I said, “Bella!”

  “Sorry?” said Caroline.

  “Bella.” I pointed at her, curled in a happy heap on Em’s lap. “She’s Bella!”

  “So if Emily’s allergic, she really shouldn’t have her in her room.”

  “But Bella always sleeps with Em,” I said. “Anyway, Em’s allergic to lots of things, not just Bella.”

  As soon as I’d said it, I knew I’d made a mistake. I should have said Bella was one of the things Em wasn’t allergic to. Trying my best to stand up for her, like I’d promised Cass, I’d now gone and made things worse!

  “Cats are notorious for causing allergies,” said Caroline. “Not really the best sort of pet for her to have.”

  In this very small, faltering voice Em said, “D-dad?” She had started wheezing again. Even Dad noticed. He said, “Don’t worry, sweetie, nothing’s going to happen to Bella! But I do think Caroline’s right about her sleeping in your room. It’s asking for trouble.”

  “In any case,” said Caroline, “shouldn’t cats be put outside at night?”

  “No!” Em clutched at Bella as if Caroline were going to tear her away right there and then. “It’s not safe – she’d get run over!”

  “Well, all right, if you say so, but at least close your bedroom door so she can’t get in. It’s not good for you to be so stressed.”

  Knowing Em, I thought that she would be far more stressed by not being allowed to have Bella sleep with her. She tried appealing again to Dad, but Dad was very firmly on Caroline’s side.

  “Bella shouldn’t have been let into your room in the first place,” he said. “It’s my fault! I should have kept an eye on things.” Dad turned to Caroline. “Might be best if we shut her in the kitchen.”

  “I always thought they went outside,” said Caroline.

  Not even Dad would agree to Bella being put outside. He still muttered about the kitchen, but Em gave him such a look, like he was sticking daggers in her heart, that he gave way and agreed she could have the run of the house.

  So then she spent half the night yowling piteously on the landing and scraping first at Em’s door and then at mine, until in the end I couldn’t stand it any longer, the thought of that poor little cat being banished from her nice cosy bed. If she couldn’t sleep with Em, she could sleep with me! I went out to get her, only to bump into Em on the same mission.

  “Shh!” Em put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone!”

  I promised that I wouldn’t say a word. Em slipped back into her room with a loudly purring Bella clasped in her arms. Em is normally such a law-abiding person. I am the one that breaks the rules and gets into trouble. But we have had Bella since she was a tiny ball of fluff and Em is fiercely protective. I just hoped she didn’t wake up in one of her states.

  Even if she did, it wouldn’t have anything to do with Bella. It would be cos she felt under attack. Too pale, too thin. Have a sausage roll! Cass was right, I had to watch out for her.

  Em was happy when she came downstairs next morning. No huffing or puffing or wheezing.

  Caroline said, “There! What did I tell you? Shut the cat out and there’s no problem.”

  Em and I exchanged glances. I nearly giggled, but just managed to stop myself. The last thing we wanted was Caroline asking me what was so funny.

  Dad said, “It should have happened a long time ago. And look at her!” He nodded at Bella, sitting on her elbows on top of the fridge. “She obviously wasn’t bothered.”

  Em caught my arm in a vice-like grip. Just as well or I might not have been able to stop myself. Giggles would have come hiccupping out of me and then even Dad would have wondered what was going on.

  Em was still happy when she came home from school that afternoon. She even told me that she had found a new friend. Someone called Jenny, whose mum helped run a local animal sanctuary. She said that although she and Jenny were in the same year they’d never really got to know each other before. Now, suddenly, it was like they were best mates. Jenny was going to come round to meet Bella, and Em was going to go round to Jenny’s to meet some of the rescued animals. She sounded really excited.

  She was still bubbling away when Dad and Caroline arrived home. And then we all sat down to tea and everything changed. Dad and Caroline were having beef lasagne; me and Em were having tomato bake. Playfully, heaping lasagne on to her fork and waving it at us, Caroline said, “Anyone tempted?”

  Em shrank back.

  “I warn you, I’m not going to give up! Flora? Are you feeling brave?”

  I said, “No, cos that’s dead cow, and cows definitely have faces.”

  “Bitsy!” Dad leant across and tapped t
he back of my hand. “Do you mind?”

  “Well, they do,” I said. I couldn’t just sit there and let poor Em be bullied. I had to stick up for her! “And anyway,” I said, “you’re supposed to be calling me Flora.”

  “Maybe –” Caroline wafted the fork in my direction – “maybe you only get to be called a grown-up name like Flora if you start eating grown-up meals like the rest of us.”

  “You could just try it,” pleaded Dad. “One little bite wouldn’t hurt you.”

  I waited for Em to say something, but she had her head bent over her plate. I noticed that she had started wheezing again.

  “Go on!” urged Dad. “I dare you! Give it a go.”

  Em made a sudden choking sound, pushed back her chair and fled from the room.

  “Now you’ve upset her,” I said.

  “Oh, come on!” said Dad. “I was only joking.”

  “She does tend to overdramatise,” said Caroline. “She’s terribly intense, isn’t she?”

  “She just cares about animals,” I said.

  “To the point of obsession. It can’t be good for her! I feel there’s a sort of imbalance, somewhere.”

  “When we were little,” I said, “we found a dead mouse and Em made a tiny coffin for it and buried it in the flower bed. She even made a little headstone. Everybody said how sweet it was.”

  Dad looked uncomfortable, like, perhaps he should have told her not to be silly.

  “And if ever we go out and it’s been raining and there’s worms all lying about on the pavement, she’ll pick them up and put them back on the grass so they can burrow down again.”

  Caroline shuddered.

  “And spiders,” I said. “She’s always rescuing spiders. Even wasps. If there’s a wasp can’t find its way out sh—”

  “Enough!” Caroline held up her hands. “I’m sure she’s very soft-hearted, but this food thing is making her neurotic.”

  It wouldn’t, I thought, if she were just left to herself.

  “The thing is,” said Dad, “no one is asking her to become a fully fledged carnivore. We don’t expect her to eat raw steaks, or even roast beef, if it comes to that. Just a bit of chicken now and again …”

  “Or fish,” said Caroline. “Surely she could eat fish?”

  I gave her this reproachful look. “Fish have faces,” I said.

  “Oh!” cried Caroline. “Not that again! Honestly, I give up.”

  “Don’t do that,” begged Dad. “She needs someone like you to take her in hand.”

  I said, “Why?”

  There was a silence. I think perhaps I might have sounded a bit aggressive. Caroline raised both her eyebrows, one after the other. Dad looked at me and frowned.

  “I don’t think that was really necessary,” he said, “was it?”

  I mumbled that I was sorry. “I just wondered why Em needed to be taken in hand.”

  “Possibly because neither of you,” said Dad, “has had enough discipline in your lives – which is my fault! My fault entirely – and Em is paying the price. I know she loves animals, I know she cares deeply about them, but she’s making herself ill over it. Caroline has her welfare at heart and I think we should back her up.”

  “We don’t want her fading away,” said Caroline.

  Em has been fading away ever since I can remember. She’s always been pale and thin. But here’s the thing! Apart from her allergies she’s fit as can be. She loves swimming and netball and rounders. She even loves hockey – yuck yuck yuck! So I didn’t think, really, she was in much danger. If people would just leave her alone!

  “Hey!” It was Monday morning. Lottie bounced herself down in the desk next to mine. “I just saw Em. She was wheezing!”

  Glumly I said, “I know. It’s cos of people having a go at her.”

  “’bout what?”

  “’bout not eating properly.”

  “Is it Caroline?” Lottie leant eagerly across the gangway. “Is she nagging at her?”

  “She doesn’t nag, but she’s got Dad agreeing with her and it gets Em all upset. I don’t think it’s right,” I said, “people trying to make people eat stuff they don’t want to eat.”

  “They do it all the time,” said Lottie. “Like my mum. She’s got this thing about sprouts? I mean sprouts. Yeeurgh!”

  “Sprouts are all right,” I said.

  “You reckon?” Lottie pulled a face. “Told you your dad would side with Caroline, didn’t I? It’s what my dad does. Like when I said sprouts made me feel sick he just said, ‘Listen to your mum.’ Is that what your dad says? ‘Listen to Caroline.’?”

  “He says we haven’t had enough discipline, like Cass didn’t look after us properly.”

  “I’m sure she did her best,” said Lottie.

  I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. It sounded as if it might be some sort of criticism. It was what our PE teacher said, with a big sigh, when I fell off the parallel bars in gym class – “Never mind, Flora. I’m sure you did your best.”

  “Sounds to me,” said Lottie, “like my mum was right. She said Caroline would come as a bit of a rude shock. But then she reckons you must have come as a bit of a rude shock to her as well.” Lottie giggled. “I bet she wonders what she’s got herself into!”

  “Actually, for your information,” I said, “she’s taking us out for a meal on Friday. It’s a celebration, cos it’s ten years since she started her employment agency. We’re going to this really expensive restaurant. Chateau Bonaparte or something? Really posh! Dad thought it was just going to be him and her, but Caroline –” I announced it, triumphantly – “Caroline said she wanted us all to go so we could be a proper family. So we can’t be that much of a rude shock or she wouldn’t want to be seen with us!”

  Lottie said, “Hmmm,” obviously trying to think of some smart remark and not being able to.

  “We’re going by cab,” I said, “so’s Dad and Caroline can drink champagne. I expect me and Em will drink some too. Cos of it being a celebration.”

  “We had champagne at my cousin’s wedding,” said Lottie. “I didn’t like it.”

  “You probably had cheap stuff,” I said.

  “It was pink,” said Lottie.

  I didn’t know whether pink was cheap or not.

  “Pink is the best,” said Lottie. “But I still didn’t like it.”

  “Well, anyway,” I said, “we’re all going to get dressed up cos it’s really classy.”

  “So what are you going to wear?” said Lottie.

  “Haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to go through my wardrobe.”

  “What about Em?”

  I squiggled my nose. What was Em going to wear? That was a good question. She is seriously useless when it comes to clothes. But as Dad kept anxiously reminding us, “We must make an effort, for Caroline’s sake. She wants to feel proud of us!”

  He’d even suggested that maybe Em should ask Caroline for advice, which I personally felt was an excellent idea, but when I’d put it to Em a few days ago, she’d giggled in a most un-Em-like way and said it was going to be a surprise.

  I reported this to Lottie.

  “Uh-oh,” said Lottie, rolling her eyes.

  I agreed that it was a bit of a worry. I knew for a fact Em hadn’t got anything in her wardrobe that could even remotely be called smart.

  “Maybe,” said Lottie, “we could take her into town after school one day? Help her find something. What d’you think?”

  I thought it was a brilliant suggestion. I told Lottie so, and she looked pleased.

  “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “That,” I said, “is what I call a plan!”

  But Em was having none of it.

  “Honestly,” she said, “I’ve got it all worked out … Jenny’s going to help me.”

  Her new friend Jenny. I just hoped Jenny could be relied on!

  Friday evening, soon as I’d finished getting ready, I went to check on Em and see how she was managing.

  “Em?
” I stuck my head round her door. “Are you— Oh!” I blinked. “Is that what you’re going in?”

  Em, looking bashful, said, “Do you think it’s all right?” .

  I said, “Wow!” She was wearing a black sleeveless jacket over a white shirt, with black shorts and long boots that I’d never seen before. Actually, I couldn’t remember seeing any of it before. It certainly hadn’t come out of her wardrobe.

  Anxiously she said, “Is it OK?”

  “It’s cool,” I said. It was! I wouldn’t have minded it for myself. “Where d’you get it?”

  Two happy spots of colour appeared in Em’s cheeks. Now that she had my approval she didn’t mind me seeing how excited she was.

  “I went shopping with Jenny! I told her I didn’t know what I was going to wear cos I hadn’t really got anything, and Dad wanted us to look smart, so we went into town together and Jen helped me choose.” Em laughed a bit breathlessly. “I didn’t have enough money for a whole new outfit so she’s lent me her boots, which is really nice of her cos they’re like brand new – she hasn’t even worn them, hardly!”

  I thought that Jenny must be a really good friend. I was pleased that Em had found someone. She is basically quite a shy sort of person and it isn’t always easy for her.

  “So what do you think?” She was looking at me eagerly. “Do you really think it’s OK?”

  I said again that it was cool. “Super cool!”

  “But do you really think it suits me?”

  I hesitated. And then, seeing Em’s face fall and all her new-found confidence suddenly begin to drain away, I said, “I do! I think it’s brilliant! Let’s go and show Caroline. She won’t half be surprised!”

  Dad was downstairs, all posh in a suit. He seemed a bit taken aback at the sight of Em in her new trendy gear.

  “Have I ever seen that get-up?” he said.

  Em giggled. Partly, I think, out of nervousness.

  “Don’t you think it’s cool?” I said.

  “It’s certainly … unusual,” said Dad. He sounded almost as nervous as Em. “Are those –” he waved a hand – “shorts, or what?”