My Sister Jodie Read online

  ‘Don’t be such a silly baby,’ said Mum.

  ‘Harley saw my knickers,’ I wailed.

  ‘Well. They’re clean, and they’re perfectly decent.

  It doesn’t really matter, you’re only a little girl. It’s much worse for Jodie but she doesn’t seem to care.

  Typical!’ said Mum. ‘Now come on, Pearl, stop making such a silly fuss.’

  I had to do as she told me. I pulled on my clothes, tugging hard at my horrible knickers, shoved my feet into my sandals and then stomped after Mum into the kitchen. Harley and Jodie were sitting swinging their legs on the edge of the big table, eating their cookies. Jodie was wearing her high heels with her jeans. Harley’s legs were so long they hovered an inch above the ground. He looked 160

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  at me. I felt as if Mum’s oven was switched on inside me.

  ‘Hey, Pearl, you’re as red as my shoes!’ Jodie laughed.

  I could have hit her.

  Harley nodded at me. ‘Hi, Pearl,’ he mumbled. He was a little red too. ‘Sorry to burst in on you like that. I was just offering to help with your decorating. Not that I’ve ever done any so I’m maybe not much cop at it.’

  ‘You’ll be great, Harley,’ Jodie interrupted. ‘You can do the ceiling. We won’t need to bother with a stepladder!’

  I wished Jodie wouldn’t always tease him about his height. He made sarcastic ho ho ho noises but it was an obvious effort. I suddenly stopped fussing so about making such a fool of myself and thought about Harley instead.

  ‘We’d love you to help, Harley,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, we don’t really know what we’re doing either.’

  ‘Well, don’t make too much of a mess,’ said Mum.

  ‘And for pity’s sake watch what you’re doing. I don’t want purple smears all over everywhere. Why ever did you have to pick purple? It’s such a harsh colour.’

  ‘You’ve got harsh girls, Mrs Wells,’ said Harley.

  ‘They certainly keep me in line. Especially Pearl –

  she’s so fierce.’

  Mum blinked at him, taking him seriously.

  ‘Yeah, too right,’ said Jodie. ‘She’s been bullying me for years. Burly Pearly! Watch out, one kick from her little black patent shoe can send you flying.’

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  I stuck my tongue out at Jodie.

  ‘Hey, watch out! See the deadly venom sac in her pretty little neck! One strike of that pink tongue and you’ve had it, dead within five seconds,’ said Jodie.

  ‘Stop being silly, girls,’ said Mum. ‘Would you like milk or juice with your cookies? Or maybe a cup of tea?’ She looked at Harley. ‘I’ve got Earl Grey tea,’

  she said proudly.

  ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Wells,’ he said. ‘That would be lovely.’

  Jodie rolled her eyes. ‘Coo, what’s this Earl Grey, Mum?’ she said, putting on a funny mock-Cockney accent. ‘What d’you mean, it’s tea? What’s up with good old PG Tips, eh?’

  Mum glared at her, sighing heavily. We drank our posh tea and ate our cookies and then set off to do more painting.

  ‘Are they your really old clothes, Harley?’ Mum said doubtfully.

  They were too small for him, the jeans ankle high, but they were still bright blue, and his skimpy sweatshirt looked pristine.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum, Harley can strip down to his underpants like us,’ said Jodie.

  Mum’s head jerked in horror.

  ‘Joke!’ said Jodie.

  ‘One day you’ll go too far, young lady,’ said Mum.

  ‘Not far enough,’ Jodie muttered.

  We spent hours and hours peacefully painting.

  Jodie played her favourite CDs very loudly, singing along, painting in time to the music. She waggled her bum too and did a little tap dance in her red shoes. Harley painted with great sure wide strokes, 162

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  up and down, up and down, but when he came to the pencilled drawings of Kezia and Pansy, he made a little purple arch round them. He bent right down and pencilled in a gangling boy in livery saying, ‘I am Frederick the footman. I am friends with Kezia.’

  ‘And Pansy!’ said Jodie.

  ‘Yeah, OK.’

  ‘Well, write it in!’

  Harley started writing. ‘ And bossy-boots shouty-pouty Pansy is my worst enemy,’ he said slowly, as if he was printing it.

  Jodie charged over indignantly but saw he’d simply added ‘ and Pansy’.

  Harley winked at me.

  I painted with careful, finicky little strokes. My hand was steadiest so I painted right along the skirting board. Then I got my own box of paints and coloured Kezia and Pansy and Frederick in very carefully.

  We were nearly finished by the time Mum sounded the gong for tea. The smell of paint had made me feel a bit sick, but as soon as I sat down at the table between Harley and Jodie I was suddenly ravenous. I wolfed down my tuna and sweetcorn sandwich and my egg and tomato roll, I crunched all my carrot sticks, I slurped up my yoghurt, I golloped down my grapes, and I ate three of Mum’s home-made cookies, oatmeal, chocolate and almond.

  ‘Well done, dear!’ said Mum, patting my shoulder as she passed. ‘It’s lovely to see you with such a healthy appetite.’

  Dan looked at me mournfully. ‘You could share your cookies with me,’ he said. He made his man 163

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  stomp over to my empty plate. ‘Dan and me are still hungry. Feed us!’ Dan made him say in a funny fierce voice.

  I fed them both pretend mouthfuls.

  ‘No, no, we want real food!’ they insisted.

  ‘You’ll have to ask my mum. I’m sure she’ll give you more,’ I said.

  Dan blinked over at Mum in her white overall and checked trousers. ‘That’s not your mum!’ he said, giggling. ‘That’s Mrs Wells, the new cook lady.’

  ‘I know, but she’s my mum as well,’ I said.

  ‘She’s my mum too,’ said Jodie, giving the last cookie to Dan.

  Dan munched, considering. ‘She’s my mum too then,’ he said happily.

  Jodie laughed at him but it made me want to cry.

  ‘Imagine, poor little Dan thinking our mum is his mum,’ I said when we were back in the bedroom, finishing off our beautiful purple room. Harley was still with us, doing the finicky overhead corners.

  ‘Perhaps she can be a communal mum,’ he said.

  ‘I’d like to appropriate her myself. She’s very kind, very patient, and she makes excellent cookies.’

  ‘You’re nuts!’ said Jodie. ‘Our mum’s a good cook, I grant you that, but she’s ever so un kind and im patient.’

  ‘Oh, Jodie, she’s not,’ I said.

  ‘She might seem like that to you because you drive her mad,’ said Harley. ‘I’m sure she’s sweet to Pearl.’

  ‘ Everyone’s sweet to Pearl,’ said Jodie. ‘Even me!

  So what’s your mum like, Harley?’

  ‘Don’t be so nosy, Jodie,’ I said, though I badly wanted to know too.

  ‘She’s a cow,’ said Harley matter-of-factly.

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  ‘What?’

  ‘You mean she’s horrid to you?’

  ‘She’s always perfectly civil. In fact she goes out of her way to take me out for posh lunches and gives me elaborate presents, but her heart isn’t in it. I don’t think she even has a heart. If she was transparent like Dan’s man, you’d see a big empty space between her lungs and her liver. She doesn’t love me, though she smarms all over me. I embarrass and irritate her. I don’t think she’s even loved any of her boyfriends. She’s stuck with this last one the longest, but then he’s the richest. A shipping magnate, no less.’

  ‘Are you making this up, Harley?’ I asked uncertainly.