Katy Read online

  ‘It looks as if we’re all going,’ I said.

  ‘Except Cecy,’ said Clover quietly.

  I chose to ignore her.

  I led the way to the gap in the hedge. Imogen looked aghast.

  ‘Oh, come on! Isn’t there a gate?’

  ‘This is a secret garden. Of course there isn’t a gate,’ said Elsie impatiently.

  ‘There must be a gate at the front.’

  ‘Yes, but it belongs to old Mrs Burton, and she doesn’t have a clue we creep into her back garden. Look, we’ll put the picnic blanket down on the earth, so you won’t get a bit mucky, I promise,’ I said. ‘You just have to do one quick wriggle and you’re through.’

  Imogen gave a great sigh.

  ‘All right – but it had better be a good secret garden.’

  ‘It is, it is! It’s the most beautiful place in the whole world!’ Clover promised, wriggling through the hedge herself.

  The others all followed. Tyler went through, and Coco, encouraged, darted through too.

  ‘There! Now you, Imogen,’ I said.

  So she wriggled through daintily enough on top of the specially laid-down picnic blanket, but when I squirrelled through afterwards Imogen was still ostentatiously brushing herself down and peering round blankly.

  ‘Is this it?’ she said. ‘It’s just some old back garden!’

  ‘No, it’s a secret, see, and here’s our dear old willow – look, it’s just like a green cave inside. That’s where we’ll have our picnic. And this over here is our grand tree. I can climb nearly to the very top. I’m building a tree house on that big branch. I’ve nearly got enough wood collected. And the trunk’s quite hollow, so I’ve plans to make a slippery-slip slide, like in The Magic Faraway Tree –’ I hesitated. ‘Of course, I only read that when I was a little kid, but the others still like it.’

  Imogen still looked blank.

  ‘But it’s just an ordinary tree now,’ she said. She consulted her phone again.

  ‘Let’s have the picnic,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Yes, let’s!’ said Dorry at once.

  ‘But we’ll have to save some for Cecy,’ said Clover.

  ‘Of course we will!’ I said, spreading the picnic blanket under the willow and opening the basket. ‘There! Let us commence our grand repast!’

  Izzie had truly done us proud. There were the chicken breasts and a large mixed salad beautifully laid out in a pattern on the big plate, and the green avocado dip with the neatest little carrot sticks set all around it. There was an open mixed berry pie, the fruit all glistening, and a tub of Greek yoghurt, and little orange clementines, and a box of rose-pink Turkish delight.

  ‘Oh look! The kitchen maid has been truly diligent!’ I said, starting up the game.

  ‘Oh frabjous day!’ said Clover, doing the correct response.

  ‘Oh, the feast of kings and queens!’ said Dorry and Jonnie together, as they tucked in greedily.

  ‘Wait, wait! We must serve our honoured guest first!’ I said.

  But the honoured guest wasn’t looking impressed.

  ‘That’s not quail, that’s chicken!’ she said.

  ‘Well, of course it’s not real quail. That’s just in old-fashioned storybooks. We’re playing, see,’ I said, putting my arm round her.

  Imogen shrugged my arm off. ‘We have quail sometimes. And I love it. I thought I was going to have it now. And sweetmeats … That’s just Turkish delight.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but we pretend, you see, to make it more exciting,’ I said desperately.

  ‘I don’t see the point,’ said Imogen.

  ‘That’s because you’re stupid,’ said Jonnie, very rudely indeed. ‘But never mind. Dorry will eat your share if you don’t want it.’

  ‘Jonnie!’ I said furiously, but there was a little bit of me that couldn’t help agreeing.

  I thought Imogen would flounce out of the feasting cave then and there, but she stayed, and she even ate a morsel of chicken and a sliver of salad. We all tucked in properly, but it felt awkward, and even Dorry didn’t eat with his usual gusto.

  The three littlies crawled out of the cave as soon as they were finished and started up a complicated animal game.

  ‘Oh God, do we all have to bark and moo and hiss?’ said Imogen.

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said.

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We tell stories,’ said Clover. ‘We make up what we’re going to be, like when we grow up.’

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said Imogen. ‘Shall I go first?’

  She had it all mapped out, in immense detail. She was going to continue modelling all the way through school, and reckoned that by the time she was fourteen she’d be modelling proper adult clothes.

  ‘That’s where the money is,’ said Imogen in a worldly wise fashion. ‘I’ll develop a new look, maybe do something a little weird with my hair, whatever, and I reckon I’ll have my face on Vogue by the time I’m fifteen.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ I said. ‘But don’t you want to do something else too? Maybe travel to all sorts of exotic places?’

  ‘If you’re a top model they fly you all over the world,’ said Imogen. ‘I shall earn a fortune too, but I won’t stay a model. I’ll go to university, maybe somewhere in America – that might be less stuffy. I’ll maybe do some acting. Then again, I am quite musical, though practising gets so boring, but Sammy says I’ve got a great voice, so maybe I’ll be a singer with some totally cool indie band.’

  Elsie was getting restless through this long recitation.

  ‘I’m going to do all that, modelling and acting and singing, and I’m going to have a husband and lots of babies,’ she announced.

  ‘I’m not sure about a husband – and I don’t think I want babies either,’ said Imogen, picking up Coco and cradling her. ‘I’ll have lots of cute little dogs like Coco instead.’

  ‘Won’t you be a bit lonely if you live all on your own?’ Clover asked.

  ‘Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t be on my own!’ said Imogen. ‘I shall have lots of lovers!’

  Clover and I gasped.

  ‘Shh!’ I said, nodding at Elsie.

  ‘Well, I shall. I’ve had heaps of boyfriends already. Haven’t you, Katy?’ she said. She was asking in an irritating way, clearly expecting me to shake my head sheepishly.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a boyfriend,’ I said.

  Clover and Elsie stared at me.

  ‘Really? What’s his name? What’s he like?’ Imogen demanded.

  ‘His name’s Ryan and – and he’s great fun,’ I said airily.

  ‘You haven’t got a boyfriend called Ryan, you fibber!’ said Elsie.

  ‘Yes, she has!’ said Clover. ‘She told me all about him. She just didn’t tell you because you’d blab to everyone.’

  I felt like throwing my arms round Clover and hugging her. Besides, I wasn’t really fibbing. Ryan had asked me if I would be his girlfriend. All right, I’d said no – but he’d asked. And all that mattered now was that Imogen was at last looking reasonably impressed. But still suspicious.

  ‘A proper boyfriend? Have you kissed?’ she demanded.

  ‘Of course,’ I said breezily. I was really fibbing now. I could feel myself blushing, but that made Imogen actually believe me. She started asking me heaps of questions and I had to elaborate as smoothly as possible, though I was getting really scarlet by then. I tried hard to make Imogen think Ryan was a hot-looking teenager, rather than a boy a head smaller than me with freckles and very untidy hair.

  ‘What about your boyfriend, Imogen?’ I asked as soon as I could.

  ‘Oh, we broke up,’ she said. She gave a great sigh. ‘I was simply devastated. I don’t want to talk about him now, I’ll just get all upset.’

  I peered at her. I wondered if perhaps she was good at making things up too. She started humming some pop tune about a broken heart, clearly expecting Clover and me to recognize it.

  ‘Oh, I love that song,’ I fibbed.