Katy Read online

  ‘You haven’t even met her, you idiot,’ I said. ‘She’s not your friend. She’s mine and Clover’s.’

  ‘Now, now, Katy. Stop harassing your little sister,’ said Dad. ‘I can’t wait to meet this Imogen. She’s certainly had a weird effect on all of you. I’m imagining a bizarre amalgamation of Kate Middleton and Beyoncé at the moment.’

  ‘Oh Dad!’ said Clover and I in unison.

  ‘I don’t think we like this Imogen, do we, Dorry?’ said Jonnie. ‘We don’t have to play with her, do we?’

  ‘I want to show her my bandage,’ said Phil. His cut was totally healed now, but he insisted on Izzie giving him a fresh bandage every day.

  ‘Look, she’s our friend. She’ll just be with us,’ I said. ‘Well, until Cecy comes.’

  ‘And then will we go you-know-where and have a picnic?’ said Dorry.

  ‘Yes, I expect so. If you’re all good as gold,’ I said airily, and sauntered out of the kitchen to take off my dress and give my hair yet another wash.

  Imogen didn’t come till gone eleven. I’d begun to think she’d changed her mind. I wished I hadn’t made such a big deal of things.

  ‘Never mind. Let’s just start one of our usual games, like Celebrity,’ Clover suggested, sensibly enough, but I couldn’t really concentrate.

  Then there was a big shriek from downstairs where the littlies and Elsie were kneeling up on the window seat in the living room.

  ‘Oh wow! There’s a great big Range Rover pulled up outside and a big girl’s getting out!’ Jonnie yelled. ‘I think we might like her after all if she lets us have a ride in her big posh car!’

  ‘She looks very grand!’ called Dorry.

  ‘That’s not a girl, she’s a lady, silly,’ said Elsie.

  Clover and I looked at each other. Our bedroom was at the back of the house so we couldn’t have a good peer ourselves. We ran out of our room, across the landing, and hurtled down the stairs. I actually slid down the banisters, which is strictly forbidden in case the children copy me and fall on their heads, but this was an emergency. We had to get to the front door first before the littlies did, or Imogen might back away nervously and run right back to her Range Rover. Our siblings en masse can be very unnerving.

  I pushed them all out the way and got to the front door just as Imogen knocked. I flung open the door – and then stared open-mouthed in astonishment. At first I thought a complete stranger was standing at the front door, though she was certainly holding Coco. Then I realized it was Imogen – but she looked so different!

  9

  Imogen’s hair was piled up elaborately on top of her head, with long tendrils hanging down in a complicated kind of way. She had make-up on too – her eyebrows looked much darker and she had a ring of black round her blue eyes that made her look incredibly knowing and sophisticated. She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts – but they weren’t remotely like my T-shirt and shorts. My T-shirt was a man’s one, big and baggy on me, with a panda on the front, and my shorts were the long loose kind, down to my knees. Imogen’s bright white T-shirt was tiny, so that it barely covered her weeny waist, and her shorts were even smaller, alarmingly so. She had jewelled flip-flop sandals and an elaborate bead bracelet round her ankle.

  I could see why Elsie thought she was a lady. She looked incredibly glamorous, years and years older than eleven.

  ‘Wow,’ I said uncertainly. ‘You look ever so grown up.’

  ‘You’ve got make-up on!’ said Clover. ‘Are you really allowed to wear make-up?’

  ‘If I want to,’ said Imogen, shrugging.

  We stood staring shyly at her, not knowing what to say or do next. Luckily Tyler wasn’t anywhere near as bashful. He jumped round our ankles, barking cheerfully at Coco, desperate to be friends.

  ‘Down, Tyler! Stop it! Gently!’ I said.

  The man in the Range Rover wound down the window, laughing. If Imogen looked amazingly old, then he seemed startlingly young. He had longish hair and wore a black vest that showed an elaborate tattoo all down one arm.

  ‘Your dog’s a happy little chap,’ he said. ‘Right, I’m off then. Bye, Imo. Phone when you need a lift.’

  Imogen gave him a wave and he drove off.

  ‘Is that your dad?’ Clover asked.

  ‘Yep, that’s Sammy,’ said Imogen.

  Clover and I looked at each other. I tried to think of calling our dad ‘Alistair’ so casually. I imagined Dad with long hair and a tattoo and giggled a little hysterically.

  Elsie and Dorry and Jonnie and Phil were scrabbling around behind us, desperate to see Imogen too.

  ‘Move out the way, Katy!’ Elsie wailed. She squeezed past me and then stared openly at Imogen.

  ‘These are my sisters and brothers – the littlies,’ I said to Imogen, sighing.

  ‘I’m not one of the littlies! I’m nearly as big as Clover,’ Elsie said indignantly.

  ‘Shut up and say hello nicely,’ I said. ‘And stop whispering, you two!’ I added sharply to Dorry and Jonnie.

  They all three mumbled hello, though Dorry and Jonnie spluttered, very red in the face. Phil was less bashful.

  ‘Oh, you’re so pretty!’ he said, clasping Imogen’s free hand. ‘You look just like the princess in the fairy-tale book.’

  ‘Oh, sweet!’ said Imogen.

  ‘Katy, Katy! Whatever are you doing?’ Izzie fussed in the background. ‘Invite your friend inside, for goodness’ sake!’

  ‘My stepmother!’ I mouthed at Imogen, pulling a silly face. ‘Come in,’ I said out loud.

  Izzie looked startled when she had a proper look at Imogen.

  ‘So you’re … Imogen?’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘How do you do, Mrs Carr?’ said Imogen smoothly, holding out her hand.

  ‘How do you do?’ said Izzie. A smile flickered across her face at Imogen’s perfect, old-fashioned manners – but her brow wrinkled when she looked her up and down. ‘I – I thought you were Katy’s age,’ she said.

  ‘I am. Eleven. But Sammy says I’m eleven-going-on-twenty-one,’ said Imogen, laughing.

  ‘Sammy’s your brother?’ asked Izzie.

  ‘No, my dad!’ said Imogen.

  ‘Oh!’ said Izzie. ‘Well, come and meet Katy and Clover’s dad. He’s in the living room.’

  Dad was sprawled on the sofa, shoes kicked off, surrounded by the Saturday newspapers. He was equally startled by Imogen’s appearance. He sat up straight and peered at her above his reading glasses. He can’t help looking a bit fierce and intimidating when he does that, but Imogen didn’t seem at all bothered. She sat down opposite him on the best velvet chaise longue, smiling.

  ‘Hello, Dr Carr. Remember me? And this is little Coco.’ Imogen patted the velvet beside her and Coco leaped nimbly into place.

  ‘Hmm!’ said Elsie.

  We’re not allowed on the velvet chaise longue, let alone Tyler, but neither Dad nor Izzie liked to tell her this. I took a deep breath and sat one side of Imogen, and Clover sat the other. Elsie and Dorry and Jonnie and Phil all squashed up on the opposite sofa, staring at us as if we were on television. Tyler barked enviously at Coco, clearly wanting to jump up on the chaise longue too. I reached over to haul him up but Izzie glared at me.

  ‘No, not Tyler!’ she snapped. ‘You know he’s not allowed.’

  ‘Oh goodness, Mrs Carr! Aren’t dogs allowed on the furniture?’ said Imogen, gathering Coco up in her arms.

  ‘I’m sure your dog hasn’t got muddy paws like Tyler,’ said Izzie. ‘What a sweet little darling!’

  I reached out and patted poor Tyler, aggrieved on his behalf.

  ‘Now, let me make everyone a drink,’ said Izzie. ‘What would you like, Imogen – fruit juice or milk? And a chocolate cookie?’

  ‘Oh, just mineral water, please,’ said Imogen. ‘Don’t tempt me with a cookie. I’m on a carb-free diet.’

  Our jaws dropped. Mineral water? Why on earth would anyone in their right mind choose water? And what on earth was Imogen doing on a diet?