My Sister Jodie Read online

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  back with a bedraggled ribbon. I was sure Harley wouldn’t care what I looked like tonight. It only mattered that I turn up.

  I plodded as quietly as I could to my dressing table and pulled the top drawer open. It creaked a little so I had to ease it centimetre by centimetre, but soon it was open enough for me to get my fingers in and find my torch. I gripped it tightly and moved slowly towards the door. Jodie sighed. I stood still, holding my breath, but then she started snoring again.

  I got to the door, turned the handle very slowly, and then I was out in the passageway. I saw the light under the living-room door and the murmur of Mum’s voice above the television. I made my way swiftly down the passage to the back door. I couldn’t really go on tiptoe in my Wellington boots.

  They made an odd little sucking sound at each step, but the television was on loudly.

  I made my way right along the passage to the back door. This was the difficult part. Dad locked and bolted it after we’d settled down for the evening. I prayed he wouldn’t go back to check on it when he went to bed. I managed the key in the lock but I was too small to reach the bolt on the door. I wasn’t going to give up now. I fetched the stool from the bathroom, clambered onto it and stretched right up. I could just about reach the bolt. I had to push and tug for a minute or more, hurting my fingers, nearly losing my balance and falling off the stool – but at last it gave.

  I got down, moved the stool back, and then opened the back door. The fresh night air was a shock on my hot face. It was so dark. The 239

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  passageway had been dark but I could still see what I was doing. The back yard of Melchester College seemed scarily black in spite of the splash of silver stars in the sky above. I stood with my back against the closed door, longing to rush back inside. But I took a very deep breath, switched on my torch, and went on my way.

  The torch was a good one, sending out a strong yellow light so that I could easily see where I was going, but it made the darkness all around seem even denser. It wasn’t so bad behind the house, but once I set out along the woodland path I felt terrified. The trees seemed to tower so much taller, a blackly enchanted wood. I heard odd rustlings and tiny cries. They seemed as alarming as jungle roars.

  I tried turning the torch in an arc but the swerving light made me dizzy and I kept getting half-glimpses of phantoms: a huge, hideous man who was really the misshapen trunk of a tree; the writhing python that was only a creeper swaying over a branch.

  The torch slipped in my hands. I clutched it desperately and forced myself forward, step after step. My Wellington boots were too small for me and were starting to stub my toes. The tops rubbed against my bunched pyjamas. I lost my ribbon in the dark and my hair fell over my face in tangles. I had to press my lips together hard to stop myself bursting into tears. I told myself I was being a ridiculous baby. I wasn’t a silly little kid any more.

  I was eleven years old. I wasn’t lost or in dire danger. I was simply out after dark, going to meet my friend.

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  What if I couldn’t find Harley and the badger set? I’d always found him easily enough before, but that was in full daylight. It would be so easy to miss the little windy path that led to the set. There were little paths everywhere. If I took the wrong one, I could get really lost and end up wandering the woods all night long.

  I stood at the edge of a path, agonizing over whether it was the right one or not. I thought of calling out to see if Harley was there, but that would frighten any badgers away. I made myself creep forward slowly, looking back over my shoulder every second step so that I could still find my way back – which made me blunder into an overhead branch. It scratched my forehead and pulled my hair horribly as if it had real twiggy fingers. I struggled free, my lips still clamped.

  I got to the clearing and shone my torch. There was Harley, crouching beside a tree bole. He waved slightly. I waved back and went to sit close beside him, dousing the light. The sudden dark was immense. He reached out and held my hand. I squeezed his gratefully. We sat there together in the dark. After a minute or so I started to see a little. I focused on the biggest entrance to the set.

  We waited. I might have dozed a little every now and then, my head nodding and jerking. Then Harley clenched my hand hard. I saw a snout emerge, then a whole striped head. The badger looked to the left, to the right, seemingly sniffing the air.

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  realized. He started scratching himself with his long claws. It looked so comical I had to bite my cheeks to stop myself bursting out laughing. Then he stopped, sniffed again, and took several steps forward. He snuffled in the grass, now sticky with honey. Then he started lick-lick-licking.

  After a few minutes another snout appeared at the entrance. It was a smaller badger, much more timid. I felt it must be a female. She peered out, retreated, peered again. Then she disappeared and returned a minute later with two little badgers, still cubs. I breathed in joyously, blinking rapidly, as if my eyes were a camera taking photographs. I didn’t need real photos. I had the images inside my head for ever.

  I’d have sat there all night long, even after all four badgers returned to their set, but around midnight Harley whispered that we should go back.

  ‘You must be tired out, Pearl,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve never felt so wide awake in my life,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s stay longer, Harley. They might come back.’

  ‘We can come tomorrow, and the next night and the next. You’re OK, aren’t you, finding your way with your torch? It’s not too scary, is it?’

  ‘It’s not the slightest bit scary,’ I lied.

  Perhaps my voice wavered, because Harley insisted on walking me all the way to the back door of Melchester College. The handle turned easily and I slipped inside, waving my fingers at him. It was a struggle relocking the door on the inside but I got the bathroom stool again and managed it. I was on such a high I felt I could rise upwards in the air of my own volition.

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  I tiptoed along the passageway, Wellington boots in my hand in case they left muddy footprints.

  There was no light under the living-room door now. Mum and Dad were obviously in bed, fast asleep.

  Jodie seemed fast asleep too when I crept into our room. She was lying on her side, breathing deeply, not moving. There was just a moment as I got into bed when I thought her eyes were wide open, but it was too dark to be sure. I lay down, hugging myself under the warm duvet, realizing my hands and feet were icy cold. I’d remember socks next time and maybe even gloves . . .

  I slept very late the next morning. For the first time ever Jodie was awake before me. She was fully dressed, sorting through the cardboard box of old toys we’d shoved in the wardrobe. The box where I kept my journal.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ I said, sitting bolt upright in bed.

  ‘My old rocket,’ said Jodie.

  She found it wedged at the bottom, under my bears. She waved it around, miming flight.

  ‘I was wondering about giving it to Dan,’ she said. ‘And you could give these old teddies to Sakura. She’d love them.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I said uncertainly. ‘But I love them.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re too old for toys now,’ said Jodie.

  There was a little edge to her voice. She kept her head bent over the box.

  ‘Ooh, what’s this doing here?’ she said, pulling out my journal.

  ‘Give it here!’ I said, leaping up and snatching it from her.

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