Suzy P and the Trouble with Three

by Karen Saunders

  A Mulberry girl.

  She has that frosty, groomed, detached look about her. She’s not the geeky girl from the photo any more. Her hair falls in a lustrous curtain down her back. She’s got huge blue eyes, with amazing olive-y coloured skin. She’s wearing a dress (a dress! As casual wear!) with these gorgeous grey pumps and her luggage has got the Louis Vuitton logo all over it. That can’t be genuine… can it? No wonder she was a bit narky at having my cheap and cheerful H&M bra dangling around her chops.

  Wow. Do I ever feel inferior now. God knows what she must think of me in my hoody, baggy jeans and scragged-back hair.

  How did Mum ever think this was going to work, me and this girl sharing such close quarters? She’s coming away on holiday with us and everything.

  I suspect Isabella’s having the same thoughts.

  She’s clutching her bag to her chest, staring around warily. Mum mentioned their house being a villa on a lake or something. This place must be a bit of a let-down. It kind of needs redecorating, and some of the carpets are really threadbare, although Mum’s tried to cover them up with colourful rugs.

  “Make yourself at home, Isabella,” Mum says, going to put the kettle on. Dad disappears off into the lounge and soon the sound of the sports channel echoes through the house.

  I guess I should say something to her. Try to make friends. Make amends for the bra.

  “Did you have a good journey?” I ask.

  “I guess,” Isabella shrugs.

  “Cool. And, um, did you mind travelling by yourself? You weren’t worried you’d get lost or anything?”

  The thought of travelling all the way to Italy by myself is pretty scary.

  Isabella shoots me this look like I’m a complete imbecile. “Nope. I’ve been travelling alone since I was ten.”

  “Here’s a cuppa for you,” Mum says, pressing a mug into Isabella’s hands. “I’ll shout the other girls. Amber! Harry! Come and meet Isabella, please.”

  Harry comes clattering into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she says. “I’m Harry.”

  “Hi,” Isabella replies.

  “Want to see a magic trick?” Harry asks.

  “Er, okay,” Isabella replies.

  “This is my assistant, who’ll be helping,” says Harry, holding up Hagrid, her pet rat, in her cupped hands. Hagrid’s pink nose twitches eagerly in Isabella’s direction.

  Isabella squeals and backs away. “Keep that thing away from me. I’m allergic.”

  “You’re allergic to rats?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Isabella says. And then she sneezes.

  It sounds awfully fake to me.

  “Isabella, I had no idea, I’m sorry. Harry, put Hagrid back in his cage, please,” Mum says.

  “But I want to show Isabella my trick…” Harry says.

  “Go. Now,” Mum says.

  Harry sulks away as Amber lumbers in, clutching Crystal Fairybelle.

  “Oh, what a gorgeous dog,” Isabella says, rushing to stroke the Chihuahua.

  “So you’re allergic to rats but not dogs? How does that work?” I ask.

  “Different kind of fur,” Isabella tells me, still fussing over the dog. “She’s the cutest. Can I hold her?”

  “Sure. Although he’s actually a boy.” As Amber passes Crystal to Isabella, and they get involved in a long conversation about how he was bought by Mark as a wedding present for Amber, Mum sidles over.

  “Is your bedroom tidied?” she whispers.

  “Yes,” I whisper back.

  “And you’ve put up the bed?”

  “I was about to do it when you came back.”

  “Oh, honestly,” Mum sighs in exasperation. “Isabella, do you want to follow me and I’ll show you where you’re sleeping? We just need to get your bed sorted.”

  Mum leads us up the stairs, and Isabella stands in the doorway of my bedroom.

  “This is a very small room,” Isabella says. “There’s hardly any space. Isn’t there anywhere else I could go?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mum says.

  “Your house is tiny,” Isabella says, matter-of-factly.

  Mum’s slightly taken aback, but quickly recovers. “I suppose it’s a lot smaller than what you’re used to. But we’re going on holiday in a couple of days so don’t worry, you’ll only be staying here for a night or two.”

  Isabella brightens. “A holiday?”

  “Yes,” Mum says. “I won a caravan, so we’re going to a campsite in Wales.”

  Now Isabella looks confused. “In a caravan?”

  “Yes,” Mum says. “That one out on the drive.” She points out of my window.

  “We’re staying in that? On a campsite?” Isabella asks, the colour draining from her face.

  It’s hard not to laugh at her expression of pure horror.

  She’s clearly as delighted about the prospect as me. Maybe we’ve got more in common than I thought.

  “Oh no. You’re not staying in the caravan,” Mum says and Isabella breathes with relief. “You’re going to be in the awning,” Mum continues, and Isabella freezes.

  “Mum didn’t say anything about camping,” Isabella says carefully. “I think there must be some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe I can go and stay in a hotel or something.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mum says. “You’re coming with us and that’s that. We can’t pack you off to a hotel by yourself, Caro would kill me! We’d love to have you join us.”

  Isabella glances at me, and I shake my head slightly, rolling my eyes. For a moment, I think I see the start of a smile twitching around her lips.

  “Now, let me get your bed set up,” Mum says, hauling the camp bed in. She disappears off down the corridor and appears a moment later with a brand new bedding set that she shakes out of its packaging.

  “Is that for Isabella?” I ask.

  “Yes, and I’m not supposed to be spending any money, so don’t tell your father,” Mum hisses, shooting me a look that says ‘don’t discuss this in front of the guest’.

  “How come she gets a new duvet cover and I don’t?” I ask. “I’ve been asking for one for ages. Mine has massive holes in since Hagrid ate it.”

  “You can have this one after Isabella’s gone home,” Mum says. “Now help me put it on, would you?”

  “She’s got a new duvet too?” I howl indignantly, as Mum removes another plastic wrapper.

  “Shhh!” Mum scowls and glances over at Isabella, but she’s not listening, she’s far too engrossed in checking her phone. “Hagrid ate the spare too and I couldn’t put her in half-chewed bedding, could I?”

  “You’ve put me in half-chewed bedding,” I point out.

  “You know full well that’s different,” Mum says. “Right, Isabella, here we go. You’re all set.”

  “Thanks,” Isabella says. She catches sight of my massive suitcase on the bed and raises an eyebrow. Mum sees what she’s looking at and makes a cross noise. “Suzy, that’s not the case I left for you. That’s the one for me, your father and Harry to share.”

  “I couldn’t fit everything I needed into that other one,” I protest.

  “Then you’re taking too much,” Mum says. “Isabella, can you help her? You didn’t bring much. Teach Suzy the value of a capsule wardrobe.”

  As Mum leaves, I turn to Isabella, to see what words of wisdom she’ll share about packing, but she’s lying down on the bed, iPod out and headphones in, texting.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When I wake up the next morning, my throat is dry and there’s a revolting taste in my mouth. I push myself up from the pillows onto my elbows, and stare down at the floor. Isabella’s lying there, wide awake and sending a text message. Annoyingly, she looks as perfect as she did when she arrived, hair flowing over the pillowcase like Sleeping Beauty and her face flawless.

  Whereas I’m guaranteed to have crazy bed head and mascara streaked halfway down my cheeks.

  “Morning,” I say, with a cheery smile. “Sleep okay?”

 
“Not really. You were snoring,” Isabella says.

  That explains the grim taste in my mouth, then. I probably slept with it gaping open all night.

  “Sorry. Who are you texting?” I ask.

  “Uh, just a friend,” Isabella replies.

  Oh. Clearly she’s not up for sharing much personal info just yet. Never mind. We’ll get to know each other a bit better soon enough. Today she’s off with Mum, who’s taking her round Collinsbrooke to show her the sights.

  Which will take about five minutes, because all there is to see is the local church, a clock tower and a covered market street.

  Mum wanted me to go with them, but I pointed out it was my last day with my boyfriend until we got back from holiday, so I was let off. There was a dodgy moment where it looked like Mum was going to send Isabella to join us, but the need to do something cultural and worthy with our visitor won out.

  “Do you want breakfast or something?” I ask.

  “I think I’ll go and have a shower,” Isabella says.

  “Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’m starving. I need to eat.”

  The rest of my family are already in the kitchen, Amber eating her usual mountain of food, while Crystal Fairybelle sits under the table. Every now and then, Amber slips pieces of sausage or bacon under the chair.

  “That dog will get fat,” Dad warns.

  “Don’t say that,” Amber screeches, scooping the dog onto her lap and covering his ears. “You’ll give him a complex.”

  “We don’t talk about weight issues in front of the dog,” Mark says solemnly.

  “Morning,” Mum says, spotting me in the doorway as the phone starts ringing.

  “Want me to get that?” I say.

  “No, I’ll go. It might be the campsite.”

  At the mention of the word campsite, Mark’s face crumples. “I can’t believe you’re going away,” he says.

  “And I can’t believe you’re not coming,” Amber wails, also starting to cry.

  After days and days of painful deliberation, Mark’s decided he’s not coming with us, as he needs to save his holiday time for after the babies arrive. But Amber needs a break, and Mum wants to keep an eye on her, so they’ve agreed to be separated.

  From the fuss the pair of them are making you think they’re about to be parted for all eternity. They haven’t stopped crying for days.

  As I ponder whether to brave the value cornflakes (which taste of sawdust) or value branflakes (which taste of cardboard), I can hear Mum on the phone.

  “Oh hello, Sarah. Everything okay? Aunt Lou well?”

  It’s not the campsite, then. It’s the carer from Aunt Lou’s nursing home.

  “We did?” Mum says on the phone. “I don’t think so. We’ve got someone staying at the moment. I don’t remember saying anything about that. Is Aunt Lou sure? She is. Right. And she’s very upset. Well, that puts me in quite a difficult position… No, I understand it puts you in a difficult position too, I know what she’s like. Okay then, we’ll be over after lunch. She’s expecting us sooner? Right. In that case, we’ll see you at about ten. See you then. Bye, Sarah.”

  She replaces the handset with a sigh so heavy it practically echoes around the hall. As she walks back into the kitchen, Dad puts down his mug with an ominous thud and glowers.

  “Don’t say it…”

  “Aunt Lou’s expecting us at the nursing home this morning,” Mum says.

  Dad groans. “I’m supposed to be helping Ian mend his fence today. We were only there a couple of days ago. You didn’t really tell her we’d go, did you?”

  Mum shakes her head. “Of course I didn’t. I’m supposed to be showing Isabella around this morning. But you know what Aunt Lou’s like. She’s apparently moaning on to Sarah that her family have abandoned her, nobody comes to see her, and is very distressed. I can’t leave her like that.”

  “She’s so manipulative, that woman,” Dad says, as he loads his crockery into the dishwasher. “I wish we could abandon her, nasty old trout.”

  “Don’t say things like that,” Mum protests, but she’s laughing. “Yes, she’s impossible, but what can we do? Suzy, could you take Isabella out with your friends today and show her around?”

  “Do I have to?”

  It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just it’s the last time Millie and I are going to get to be with our boyfriends until we get back from holiday.

  Which means it’s our last time as a foursome for ten whole days.

  Anyone else with us would be weird. It wouldn’t be the same.

  “Can’t you take her out with you?” I ask. “I’m sure they’d love her at the nursing home.”

  “No, we can’t,” Mum says. “She’s a teenage girl. She doesn’t want to be hanging around with old people. She’ll have a much better time with you and your friends.”

  “That’s so unfair,” I mutter, crossly sloshing milk onto my cereal.

  “Do you need anything, Isabella?” Mum asks.

  I turn to see Isabella standing in the doorway, wrapped in an expensive-looking satin dressing gown with a towel on her head and a fierce scowl on her face.

  “Do you have an adaptor for my hairdryer?” she asks.

  “No, but you can borrow mine. I’ll go and get it for you,” Mum says, steering Isabella from the room. “There’s been a bit of a change of plan for today. You’re going to be spending the day with Suzy and her friends.”

  I don’t hear Isabella’s reply.

  Darn you, Aunt Loon, I think. This is all your fault, you evil old bat.

  As soon as Isabella’s finished getting ready and had breakfast, we head off out. While we walk, I’ve got that horrible prickly feeling of awkwardness and an uncomfortable silence hangs over us. I’m getting the impression that Isabella would rather be anywhere else in the world than hanging out with me and my mates.

  “Erm, it’s not far to the coffee shop,” I say, desperate to make conversation.

  Silence.

  “Bojangles is great. I think you’ll like it,” I continue, starting to babble nervously. “It’s probably not as nice as the cafés you have in Italy. I expect they have great places there, don’t they, with really fancy coffee and stuff, but Bojangles is still pretty cool…” My voice fades away.

  This is so totally awkward.

  Isabella’s only response is to pull her phone out of her bag and scan it. She’s permanently attached to the thing. All the way here she’s been sending texts and laughing at secret messages she doesn’t want to share.

  “There are my friends.” I point to where Danny, Millie and Jamie are messing around on the street corner, waiting for us. Jamie’s throwing a football at Danny’s head. Danny’s trying to head it back, but keeps missing.

  “Hi, Suze.” I see the boys checking Isabella out and trying not to stare. Danny blushes a bit and chews at the corner of his thumb, something he always does when he’s nervous.

  Yup, Isabella is seriously pretty. Even my utterly unobservant boyfriend’s noticed.

  “This is Isabella,” I say, gesturing to her. “Isabella, this is my boyfriend, Danny, my best friend, Millie, and Jamie, who’s Millie’s boyfriend.”

  “Hey! And your friend too,” Jamie says.

  Isabella forces a smile and we all stand around, nobody quite knowing what to say. “Shall we go?” I ask. “That’s Bojangles up there, Isabella.”

  “It’s amazing,” Millie enthuses. “They do the best cake in the world.”

  “We hang out there a lot,” I explain.

  “Are you sure it’s open?” Jamie asks. “It’s kind of dark.”

  “Course it is,” Millie says confidently, reaching out her hand to push the door. “Bojangles is always open… Oh. It’s locked.”

  “Look, how unobservant are you?” Danny says. “There’s a sign up. What does it say?”

  “Oh no!” Millie says, reading the notice. “It’s from Hannah. She says a pipe burst yesterday, it flooded the café, and now it’s closed for
renovations. It’s going to be shut indefinitely until they get it all sorted. This is the worst news ever!”

  “How can it be closed indefinitely?” I say. “It’s the holidays. Where are we supposed to hang out now?”

  We peer through the window. Through the gloom we can just about see inside and it does look a real mess. Half the ceiling has fallen in, and there are water marks up the walls.

  “Tastee Burga?” Jamie says hopefully.

  “No,” I say. “Enough with the Tastee Burga already. How many burgers can one boy eat, anyway?”

  “My capacity for meat is all-encompassing,” Jamie says proudly.

  “You’re not kidding,” I say.

  “There’s another coffee place just there,” Isabella says, pointing to the sign of a well-known coffee chain.

  “We don’t go in there,” Jamie says. “Millie started boycotting them a couple of months ago.”

  “What about the park?” I offer.

  “The park?” Isabella says, looking up at the ominous grey clouds above our heads. “Isn’t that for kids?”

  “Anyone got any better ideas?” I ask.

  Nobody has.

  So we head to the park, where Millie and I huddle down onto a bench (Isabella refuses to sit on the soggy wood in case she gets her very expensive-looking coat dirty), and Jamie and Danny start messing around with the football again.

  “So, are you liking being back in England?” Millie asks Isabella.

  Isabella shrugs. “I only just got here. But I have to say, this place is dead.”

  Millie laughs. “Tell me about it. You’re going to London in a couple of weeks, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. But I’d much rather be going back to Italy. It’s cold here,” Isabella says. “Isn’t it supposed to be summer?”

  We stare at the grey sky. You’d hardly know it was July.

  Millie sighs. “Rubbish, isn’t it? I’ve got a ton of new summer clothes I want to wear, but it’s too cold.”

  “I love what you’re wearing now,” Isabella says.

  Is the ice queen thawing? That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard her say since she arrived. Although, to be fair, Millie does look great. She’s wearing a gorgeous red pinafore dress with purple pockets over a long-sleeved turquoise T-shirt and zebra print tights. On top she’s got her vintage cream mac. I don’t know how she does it. Anyone else would look like they randomly grabbed some clothes and threw them on, but Millie’s got the confidence to rock any outfit. It’s hard not to feel invisible next to her sometimes.