The Butterfly Club Read online

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THAT EVENING I spent ages making a plan for the butterfly garden. I remembered each and every plant so I could sketch out the way they’d look prettiest. I decided to have a buddleia at either end, and then masses of flowers in-between.

  The next day Selma brought in two big carrier bags full of nettles and dandelions, each with their own clod of earth to protect their roots.

  ‘I wore gloves so them nettles didn’t sting me,’ she said proudly.

  Miss Lovejoy parked the minibus by the garden strip and started unloading all our flowers and shrubs.

  We were so busy planting at lunch time! We needed to get all the plants settled really quickly, so Miss Lovejoy suggested we ask for help. Phil and Neera and Maddie and Harry came to ease the plants out of their containers, while Miss Lovejoy and Selma and I dug holes and put each one in place. Then we moved on to the next and the next while the others watered them in, using a great big watering can. Harry was the chief waterer and managed to water himself as much as the plants.

  It was a bit annoying, because Selma and I would have loved to do some watering too.

  ‘But you two are the expert gardeners now,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘You need to make sure the plants are at the right depth, with their roots able to spread out comfortably. And don’t worry, you’ll need to do lots more work watering to help them grow.’

  The three of us had to work together to cope with the big buddleia bushes. One simply wouldn’t come out of its container and we had to tug and heave. But eventually it shifted.

  We weren’t anywhere near finished when the bell rang for afternoon school, but Miss Lovejoy gave Selma and me special permission to miss drama and games so we could carry on with the planting and sow the cabbages and beans.

  We worked and worked and worked, and got everything finished five minutes before the bell went for home time. We gave everything another watering – Selma had to help me when it was my turn because the can was so heavy. Then we just stood hand in hand and looked at the garden.

  It didn’t look quite as pretty as my picture. Miss Lovejoy said we had to space things out a bit to give the plants room to grow and spread, so there were gaps of brown earth everywhere. But even so it still looked a splendid garden.

  I threw back my head. ‘Come on, butterflies! Come to our garden!’ I called enticingly.

  But they didn’t come.

  Oh dear, they didn’t come.

  They didn’t come.

  Selma and I went to the butterfly garden every day and waited. We looked until our eyes watered, but we didn’t see a single butterfly.

  ‘It’s because it’s not warm enough yet,’ said Selma. ‘It’s only March, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘My butterfly book says the big nymph butterflies – the painted lady and the peacock and the red admiral, all the best butterflies – start flying around in March,’ I said mournfully. ‘They must be flying around right this minute. But in other people’s gardens. Not ours.’

  ‘You’ve got to give them a chance, Little Bug. They’ll come soon,’ said Selma.

  ‘I’m giving them lots of chances, Big Bug. But nothing’s happening,’ I said.

  ‘Didn’t you say some of them like rotting fruit? Pretty weird of them, I must say, but still, let’s try it. Your mum’s always giving you lots of fruit for your lunch. Let’s scatter it about the garden and see if it will make the butterflies come,’ Selma suggested.

  So I didn’t eat my apples or clementines for a whole week. We cut them into quarters and left them in the garden.

  But the butterflies still didn’t come.

  ‘All that work! All that money!’ I said, nearly in tears.

  ‘But we’ve still got a lovely garden,’ said Selma.

  ‘I don’t like it now,’ I said. ‘It’s pointless if it doesn’t work. I’m not going to go there any more.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. You don’t really mean that.’

  ‘Yes I do,’ I said.

  I wouldn’t go to the butterfly garden that playtime. I didn’t go at lunch time either.

  ‘I’ll still go,’ said Selma. ‘Just to have a look.’

  She dashed off every time the bell went. She shook her head whenever she came back. ‘Sorry. Didn’t see any. But they will come, I just know they will.’

  She went to accost Miss Lovejoy. ‘We will get some butterflies coming to our garden, won’t we, miss?’

  ‘Miss Lovejoy. Yes, I’m sure you will. It will just take a little time, that’s all. The butterflies have to find the garden. Once they start coming, then they’ll mate and lay eggs, and the caterpillars will feed there and pupate and then hatch out into more butterflies, and in a year or so I’m sure you’ll see butterflies there every day,’ she said.

  ‘A year?’ I said. ‘I want to see butterflies there now!’

  ‘One of the most important lessons to learn in life is patience,’ said Miss Lovejoy.

  I might have learned how to spell patience now, but I didn’t have any. And Miss Lovejoy was starting to get on my nerves.

  Selma seemed surprisingly pally with her nowadays. She went up to her at the end of school and went whisper whisper whisper. Miss Lovejoy beckoned her to the store cupboard and gave her a whole lot of different-coloured sugar paper, which Selma folded carefully and then crammed into her school bag.

  ‘What have you got all that paper for?’ I asked.

  Selma gently tweaked my nose. ‘Nosy! You wait and see,’ she said.

  At playtime the next day Selma ran off and didn’t come back. I was stuck all by myself, sitting on the steps by the library. I looked for Phil, but she was playing some sort of silly game with Neera. I looked for Maddie, but she was playing football with Harry. It was very lonely without Selma. I wondered about going to the butterfly garden after all, but I couldn’t bear to now.

  Then, just as the bell went, Selma came running. ‘Quick! Quick, Tina! Come to the garden!’ she yelled.

  ‘Have you seen a butterfly?’ I gasped.

  ‘Heaps!’ said Selma, tugging at my hands. ‘Quick! Come and see them.’

  I ran like the wind, all the way over to the butterfly garden. Then I stood still, transfixed. There were at least twenty butterflies all over the flowers and shrubs. Not real ones. These were paper butterflies – blue and brown and pink and green and white, all carefully cut out and sellotaped to the leaves.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ I said.

  ‘I did it just so you can see what it will look like,’ said Selma. ‘Do you like them?’

  ‘Oh, Selma, they look lovely, truly lovely,’ I said. ‘Tell you what – let’s form a club, you and me. The Butterfly Club.’

  ‘With just two members?’ said Selma. ‘That would be cool. And I’ve found someone to cheer you up. Look carefully!’

  I looked and looked. And then I saw a tiny little person carefully taped to a lavender bush. A small china person.

  ‘Baby!’ I breathed.

  Selma carefully detached her and put her in my hand.

  ‘Oh, Baby, I’ve got you back at last!’ I said, clutching her tight and starting to cry.

  ‘She got lost for a while,’ Selma said, not quite looking at me, ‘and then I found her. I wanted to keep her, but I knew she was really yours. You’ve been so miserable and you needed her.’

  ‘Oh, Selma, thank you so much!’ I said.

  ‘Well, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘You’re the best friend in all the world!’

  ‘Really? We’re best friends now? You really mean it?’

  ‘Yes, I really mean it. And tell you what – you can have New Baby. She’s bigger than this baby and she’s got proper clothes. You’ll like her, I promise.’

  ‘So are you a bit happier now? You’re still crying!’

  ‘Only a bit.’

  ‘You don’t mind so much that there aren’t any butterflies yet?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got paper butterflies, have