by Jean Ure
I was just drifting off to sleep when there was a tap at the door and Em crept in. She hovered uncertainly.
“Bitsy?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Mm,” I grunted into my pillow. “Wosser madder?”
“I just wanted to ask you something. If anything ever happened to me, you would look after Bella, wouldn’t you?”
I half sat up, propping myself on an elbow. “What are you talking about?”
“If I wasn’t here … I need to make sure she’d be all right.”
I said, “Of course she’d be all right! But why wouldn’t you be here?”
“Well, like, suppose I got run over or something? These things happen,” said Em.
“Not if you remember to look both ways,” I said.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it, but it doesn’t do to encourage Em too much when she gets one of her gloomy fits.
“Anyway, thank you for disturbing me,” I said. “I’ll probably be awake half the night now.”
“Sorry,” said Em, sounding very crestfallen.
I saw her flit across the room, but even before she was halfway through the door I’d gone back to sleep.
Next day was Saturday and Caroline said that she and Dad were going shopping.
“What about you two? What are you two up to?”
I pulled a face and said, “Homework.”
“Can’t argue with that,” said Caroline. “How about you, Emily?”
Em muttered that she hadn’t decided.
“You can always come with us, if you like. You’re quite welcome.”
There was a bit of an awkward pause. I could see that Em didn’t want to. She was just trying to find a polite way of saying so.
“It’s all right,” said Caroline, “you don’t have to! I won’t feel slighted. You probably wouldn’t enjoy it, anyway. We’re going to prowl round the antique shops. Aren’t we.” She turned fondly to Dad.
“This is what I’ve been told,” said Dad. “And as you know, I always do what I’m told!”
Caroline laughed. “You see?” she said. “I’ve got your dad well trained!”
Dad and Caroline went off, leaving me and Em on our own.
“Are you really going to do homework?” said Em. “On a Saturday?”
I said, “Yes. Why?”
“Wouldn’t you rather go round and see Lottie?”
“Well, I would,” I said, cos who wants to do homework? “But she’s not here – they’ve gone away for the weekend. Plus I’ve got mountains of stuff to get through.”
“In that case,” said Em, “you’d better go and shut yourself in your room and not come out till you’ve finished.”
“There’s no need to get all bossy about it,” I said.
“I know what you’re like,” said Em. “Attention span of a flea.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Just things,” said Em.
“What sort of things?”
“Things.”
“Well, pardon me for asking,” I said.
Always so secretive.
I went up to my room, emptied my school bag on the bed and put my headphones on. Then I turned up the volume really LOUD. I find I can work far better if I have a bit of noise going on. It helps me concentrate.
I was concentrating so hard I didn’t even notice when Dad and Caroline came back from their shopping trip. Caroline had to come upstairs and find me. She said, “Honestly, Flora, how can you possibly work with that racket going on? I swear I can hear it halfway along the landing! You’ll blow your eardrums out.”
Proudly I said, “I’ve done all my homework.”
“Well, good, I’m glad. But you won’t be so happy when you get to be my age and your hearing’s gone! Go and tell Emily that lunch is ready, will you?”
“Okey dokey!”
I waltzed along to Em’s room and banged on the door.
“Em! Caroline says lunch is ready.”
“So where is she?” said Caroline, as I went downstairs.
“Dunno,” I said.
Caroline tutted impatiently. She had a real thing about us all sitting down at the same time. And about people doing what she told them.
“You’d better go and give her another call,” she said.
I walked to the foot of the stairs and bellowed, “EM! LUNCH IS READY!” I waited. Anyone bawled as loud as that and something would have filtered through, even with headphones on. And Em didn’t even have any headphones.
“Where is she?” Caroline had appeared at my side. “What is she doing? Emily! Time for lunch.”
Still nothing.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Caroline set off up the stairs. “Let me go and see what she’s up to.”
Seconds later, Caroline came back down. “Well, that explains it. She’s not there!”
“Not there?” Dad had come into the hall to see what all the fuss was about.
“No,” said Caroline. “Emily’s not there and that cat is on her bed.”
“So where’s Emily?”
They both turned to look at me.
“Where’s she gone?” said Dad.
“Didn’t know she’d gone anywhere,” I said. “I thought she was in her room.”
Caroline’s forehead knitted itself into an irritated frown. “You mean she’s gone waltzing off somewhere and didn’t bother telling you?”
“That’s not at all like Emily,” said Dad.
“Oh, come on! She’s a teenager. Totally thoughtless.”
“Bitsy might be,” said Dad. “Not Em.”
I resented that. I said, “Excuse me, but I think all the time!”
“I’m sure you do,” said Caroline. “Let’s sit down and eat. Emily will just have to fend for herself.”
By the time we’d finished lunch it was two o’clock and still no sign of Em.
“Bitsy, didn’t you even hear her go out?” said Dad.
“Flora wouldn’t have heard if a bomb had gone off.” Caroline clattered plates and dishes on to a tray. “She has that music up so loud it’s a wonder she hasn’t deafened herself.”
“I was doing my homework,” I said. “I was concentrating.”
“I take it you’ve tried her mobile?”
“Can’t,” I said.
“Why not?”
“She put it in the washing machine.”
“She did what?”
“It was a mistake,” I said.
“So I would imagine!”
“It was in the back pocket of her jeans; she forgot it was there. It got all waterlogged. She kept hoping if she dried it out it’d start working again. Which it sort of did,” I added, “but then it went funny. I’ve got one,” I added, trying to be helpful. “She sometimes uses mine.”
“So would she have taken it with her, do you think?”
I said no, mine was upstairs in my bedroom.
Caroline made an impatient clicking noise with her tongue. “This really is very naughty of her.”
“Are you quite sure,” said Dad, “she didn’t mention anything about going off to … I don’t know! See a friend? Who was that friend she used to have? Jane, or Janet, or someone?”
I said, “Janis. She went to Australia. Ages ago.”
“Oh. Well! Who is she friends with now? There must be someone!”
“Jenny,” I said. “She’s friends with Jenny.”
“So do we have Jenny’s number anywhere?”
“Dunno.”
“Oh, Flora, for heaven’s sake!” Caroline was starting to sound like she’d had enough of me and Em. “Try to make a bit of an effort, can’t you?”
Aggrieved, I said, “Well, but I don’t know! They only got to be friends quite recently. I don’t know anything about her.” And then I suddenly remembered. “Oh, yes, I do! Her mum runs an animal sanctuary or something.”
“Well, that’s a start,” said Dad. “Let’s see what happens if we put it into Google.”
I said, “P
ut what in?”
“Animal sanctuaries, Brighton … There we are! Loads of them. Pigeons? Horses?”
“Dogs,” I said. “I think.”
“OK … still quite a few. What’s Jenny’s surname?”
“Dun—” I stopped. “I don’t know.”
“What about this one?” Dad pointed at the screen. “Paws Animal Sanctuary. Small-animal rescue. They’re local. Let’s give them a go.”
“You do that,” said Caroline. “We’ll get on with the washing-up.”
I’d rather have stayed and listened to Dad on the telephone, but I’d already learnt that when Caroline wanted something done, it was best to do it straight away.
“Has Emily always been a problem?” she said. “She seems very troubled.”
“She’s sensitive,” I said.
“Well, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. Spoilt might be another way.”
“Em’s not spoilt!” I said.
“You think? I’d say that’s exactly what she was! All I ever hear is ‘Poor Emily, we have to make allowances for her, we—’ Ah, Donald!” She broke off as Dad appeared. “Any luck?”
“Not really,” said Dad. “It was the right place, but her mum said Jenny was out riding and as far as she was aware she hadn’t seen Emily since they left school yesterday.”
“So that was a dead end.” Caroline thrust a tea towel at me. “Don’t just stand around, Flora. Things can’t come to a full stop simply because your sister chooses to go flouncing off without telling anyone.”
Slowly and resentfully I picked up a bunch of cutlery. Seemed to me that finding Em was a whole lot more important than wiping up a load of wet knives and forks.
“You don’t think she could have gone to see Cass and Becky?” I said.
“Without telling anyone?” Caroline’s eyebrows flew back into her hairline. “Without asking permission?”
“She might have done.”
Dad brightened. “I’ll give them a call! I guess they’ll be at the shop.”
“Not on a Saturday,” I said.
“What?” Dad’s thumb was already hovering over the keypad.
“She and Becky don’t work Saturdays any more.”
“Don’t work Saturdays?” Caroline’s eyebrows, which had just come down, promptly shot back up again. Up down, up down, like yo-yos. “What kind of shop doesn’t open on a Saturday?”
“They’re open,” I said. “They just don’t go in. They have special Saturday people.”
“Since when?” said Dad.
“Since Cass went to live with Becky.”
“Well, I never.” Dad scratched his head. “Why doesn’t anyone ever tell me anything?”
“They probably did,” said Caroline. She said it quite tartly, like Dad being so absent-minded didn’t amuse her any more. “Try them at home.”
Obediently, Dad did so. He shook his head. “It’s on answerphone.”
“So try her mobile!”
But Cass’s mobile was on answerphone too.
“Now what?” said Dad.
He was starting to look quite worried. Even I was a bit concerned. It was so not like Em to just go off without telling anyone.
I had a sudden idea. “How about Polly? Maybe she’s gone to see Polly!”
“Who’s Polly?” said Caroline.
“She works with Dad. She’s in his department.”
“Oh, I remember! Looks like she lives on muesli.”
What did that mean? What was wrong with muesli? Cass had sometimes given it to us for breakfast.
“Polly,” said Dad, “happens to have an extremely fine brain.” He said it, for Dad, quite sharply. Caroline pulled a face. “I don’t quite get, though, why Em should suddenly want to go and see her?”
“We like Polly,” I said. “She’s our friend.”
“True,” said Dad. To Caroline he explained, “They’ve always been very close to Polly. They’ve known her a long time. Let me go and get her number.”
“Is it too much to ask,” wondered Caroline, as Dad left the room, “why he doesn’t have it on his mobile phone?”
Apologetically I said, “I don’t think he knows how to do it.”
“No? Well, that figures. I guess they didn’t have mobiles in the eighteenth century.”
I couldn’t understand why all of a sudden Caroline was being so mean. Acting like she thought Dad was an idiot. I bet he knows more about the eighteenth century than almost anyone else alive!
“Flora, are you absolutely certain,” said Caroline, “you really have no idea where your sister’s gone?”
She was giving me this suspicious glare, like Mr Hendricks at school when he thinks you’re not telling the truth about why you haven’t done your maths homework. Usually, with maths homework, he’s right. But I really didn’t know where Em had gone.
“Well.” Dad was back. Just in time to save me from the third degree. “She’s not with Polly, though apparently she did speak to her on the phone the other day. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“Neither did I,” said Dad. “It seems she asked Polly not to say anything.”
“Why would she do that?” said Caroline.
“According to Polly, she didn’t want me to be worried.”
“About what?”
“Oh …” Dad waved a hand. “Bits and pieces that have been troubling her. I don’t know!”
“If you ask me,” said Caroline, “that girl is far too intense. I sometimes seriously wonder whether she should see a therapist.”
For the first time ever – well, the first time since Caroline had come to live with us – I saw a faint shadow of annoyance cross Dad’s face.
“There’s nothing wrong with Em,” he said. “She just feels things a bit more deeply than the rest of us. Bitsy, can I have a word with you? In the other room?”
“Just let me know when you’re through,” said Caroline. She reached across and whisked the tea towel away from me. “I wouldn’t want to intrude!”
“Right. Now!” Dad sat down beside me on the sofa. “What’s going on with your sister? Why did she feel the need to ring Polly?”
“We like Polly,” I said. “We like her a lot.”
“Yes, I hear you! But why did Em ring her?”
“I don’t know! She didn’t tell me.”
“You don’t think she’s still upset over last night? About those wretched potatoes? Because if she is, she’s not being fair! Caroline honestly didn’t mean to trick her.”
“It’s not just that,” I muttered.
“So what is it? Say something!”
I picked up Bella, who had come wobbling in, and buried my face in her neck.
“Look,” said Dad, “we’re by ourselves. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I stayed silent, rubbing my cheek against Bella’s fur.
“Bitsy, this is serious,” said Dad. “Speak to me! Em wasn’t hurt, was she, because of Caroline asking her to change her clothes? I mean, even I could see that shorts weren’t the right thing to wear.”
“She chose that outfit specially,” I said, “cos she wanted to look nice.”
“And she did look nice! Very nice. It just wasn’t … appropriate.”
“She didn’t know! How was she to know? She’s not into fashion.”
“She could have asked Caroline.”
“Caroline said she looked frumpy.”
“When?” Dad sounded like he found that difficult to believe. “When did Caroline say she looked frumpy?”
“Ages ago. When she started on about her eating meat.”
“Oh,” said Dad. “So that’s what it’s about. Caroline’s genuinely concerned for her, you know.”
“Like telling her she can’t sleep with Bella!” I squeezed Bella as I said it. She gave a little protesting squeak.
Gravely Dad said, “I tend to be with her on that one.”
“But she’s always slept with Bella! It’s only since Caroline came sh
e’s started getting stressed.”
“Stressed?” Dad looked stricken. “Em? What are you saying? I thought you were all getting on so well!”
“We were,” I said. “But then you keep taking Caroline’s side all the time and it’s always Em that makes excuses and—”
“Whoa! Slow down,” said Dad. “What do you mean, Em makes excuses? Excuses for what? For me?”
“For Caroline! Like when Caroline says things that upset her, Em says it’s not her fault, she’s just trying to help.”
“Well, but she is,” said Dad. “She’s trying her best to be a good stepmum!”
I didn’t say anything to that, just kept my head in Bella’s fur.
“You don’t think she is?” said Dad.
I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.”
“All right,” Dad sighed. “What sort of thing does she say that upsets Em so much?”
“Well, like Em ought to eat meat cos it might help her hair, or—”
“Help her hair? What’s wrong with her hair?”
“You wouldn’t know,” I said, “cos you’re a man and you don’t ever notice, but Em’s really sensitive about it. She reckons it’s too thin.”
“So obviously Caroline was concerned for her.”
I said, “Yes, but she picks on her. She makes her feel bad about herself. And Em tried so hard,” I said. “She so wants you to be happy!”
There was a bit of a pause after I said this. I glanced up at Dad. He was looking quite shaken.
“Em wants me to be happy?” he said.
“Yes! We both do. We promised Cass. Cos we think you deserve it!”
“Now you’re starting to make me feel guilty.” Dad ran his fingers through his hair, sticking it all up on end like a porcupine. “I had no idea! I should have spoken to her. Last night. I should have had a word with her. If anything’s—” He broke off. “Bitsy? What are you thinking?”
“I’ve just remembered …” My voice came out in a whisper. “Last night … she made me promise to … to look after Bella if …”
“If what?”
“If anything happened to her!”
“Oh, my God.” I could see the colour draining out of Dad’s face. “What time was this?”
“Just after we’d gone to bed.”
“Did she seem … distressed?”
I crinkled my nose. “She was upset cos she thought she’d gone and ruined the evening for you.”