Dancing the Charleston Read online

  ‘Well, it’s morbid, for a start, making out the dead have feelings.’ Aunty shivered.

  I wondered what she would say if she knew I had long conversations with Mother. Then I paused, suddenly anxious. How was I going to visit her regularly when I no longer went to the village school? And how could I lie full length to talk to her properly when I was wearing that expensive blue uniform? Aunty would kill me if I got it dirty.

  I sighed, and Aunty shook her head at me.

  ‘There now, you’ve gone and upset yourself, silly. Don’t sit there with a long face. Why don’t you go for a little walk in the grounds and see if the Somerset children are there?’ she suggested.

  I was suddenly overcome with shyness. What if they groaned when they saw me coming? What if they thought I was odd or pert? So I stayed in the cottage, wandering around restlessly, unable to settle.

  Then I heard a bark – the high-pitched bark of a bouncy puppy.

  ‘Nigel!’ I said. I scooped Sixpence up and shut her in my bedroom for safety. (Hours later I found her curled up cosily against my pillow, as if it was her mother.) Then I ran to the door.

  Nigel leaped up to greet me, tossing his head until his ears flapped – but Mr Benjamin wasn’t holding his lead. It was a girl with tousled hair wearing a strange blue embroidered smock, bright red socks and brown sandals.

  ‘Hello, do you remember me? I’m Marcella. We met when my grandmother died. And this is Nigel, though I think he knows you already,’ she said. ‘I’m taking him for a walk and I wondered if you’d like to come too …’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘Aunty? Aunty!’

  She came out of her workroom tutting, and then stood still, staring at Marcella, clearly taken aback by her odd outfit. But she composed herself quickly and said, ‘How do you do, Miss Marcella.’

  I didn’t like Aunty calling her Miss – after all, Marcella was only a little girl, a year or so younger than me. Goodness, was I supposed to call her Miss too? Well, I wasn’t going to!

  ‘Can I take Nigel for a walk with Marcella, please, Aunty?’ I gabbled.

  ‘I suppose so, dear. Don’t get in the way now,’ said Aunty anxiously. She came nearer. ‘And mind your manners!’ she whispered.

  I went out quickly, before she could embarrass me any more.

  ‘Your aunty’s very strict, isn’t she?’ said Marcella. ‘A bit like my grandmother. She was always telling us to mind our manners. I don’t miss her a bit. Do you think that’s awful of me?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, looking around hopefully for Esmeralda and Roland.

  ‘The others aren’t here,’ said Marcella. ‘Roland and Bruno are helping the workmen with Uncle Benjamin’s swimming pool. Esmeralda is messing around with Desiree. She’s showing her how to dance the Black Bottom.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I tried, but I kept tripping and they laughed at me.’

  ‘I think it’s a silly name for a dance. I prefer the Charleston,’ I said, showing off. I was pleased when Marcella looked impressed.

  ‘I don’t expect that’s any easier,’ she said. ‘Anyway, Uncle Benjamin suggested I take Nigel for a walk. He said I should come and find you because you’re an excellent dog handler.’

  ‘I’m not really. He’s just being kind,’ I said.

  ‘He is kind, isn’t he? I think I love him almost as much as my mother. Certainly much, much more than my stepfather, Stanley. Where shall we walk to then?’

  ‘I could take you down to the village,’ I said.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Marcella, clapping her hands as if this was a great treat. She dropped Nigel’s lead as she did so, which was a mistake.

  It was ten minutes before we managed to catch him, but this meant he’d worn himself out so much that he walked down the street in a reasonably docile fashion, not pulling on his lead.

  ‘You really are good with dogs,’ said Marcella.

  ‘Do you have a dog of your own?’

  ‘No, worst luck. Stanley doesn’t like dogs because he once got bitten. He’s pathetic. I can’t understand what Barbara sees in him. She acts as if he’s the greatest artist ever. I like her paintings better than his, and yet ghastly Stanley says they’re only decorative, and don’t count. Isn’t that ridiculous?’

  ‘I think he sounds very rude,’ I said. ‘Your mother looks very artistic. Do you always call her by her first name? Doesn’t she mind?’

  ‘No, she likes it,’ said Marcella.

  ‘I wonder if I should call my mother Sylvia?’ I’d spoken out loud without really meaning to.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a mother,’ said Marcella. ‘I thought you lived with your aunt.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So where’s your mother then?’

  ‘In the graveyard.’

  Marcella blinked. Then she realized. ‘You mean she’s dead. Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right. I still talk to her,’ I said.

  ‘Do you?’ She sounded very interested.

  ‘Almost every day.’

  ‘Goodness. But isn’t that a bit lonely when she can’t talk back?’

  ‘She does talk back when I want her to.’ Marcella stared at me. ‘Do you think I’m weird?’

  ‘Oh, people always think I’m weird. And stupid,’ said Marcella cheerfully. ‘Esmeralda got fed up with me following her around – she said I was like an eager puppy dog. I felt a bit hurt, but I pretended I was pleased and went woof-woof. So then she said I was actually turning into a puppy, and she slid her hand down my back and touched this little bony bit right at the bottom and said it was my tail starting to grow.

  ‘Well, I knew she was just teasing me, but I started to worry all the same. I kept feeling the bone, and it did seem to be getting bigger, almost as if it was going to burst right through my skin and start wagging, and that night I had a bad dream that I’d really turned into a dog all over, with fur and paws and everything, and I started crying. Barbara came and I sobbed it all out – though I didn’t say it was Es who had shown me the tail bit on my spine because I’m not a sneak. But she told the boys and they thought it ever so funny, and they kept calling me The Dog and throwing sticks for me to fetch.’

  ‘That’s really mean,’ I said indignantly. I knew I didn’t like Bruno, but I was surprised to hear that Esmeralda could be so horrid.

  ‘Oh, it’s just teasing,’ said Marcella. ‘You know what sisters and brothers are like.’

  I didn’t know. I’d always longed to be part of a big family, but now I was almost glad that I was an only child. Perhaps it was better to be an older sister rather than a younger one. I didn’t think I’d ever want to tease Marcella though. I was starting to like her very much.

  We were approaching the church now. Marcella peered at it with interest. ‘This is the church where my grandmother’s buried. Is it where your mother is too? Will you show me?’

  ‘If you like,’ I said. ‘Only you won’t laugh or anything, will you?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’

  We went in through the lychgate. I steered Marcella past her grandmother’s tomb, not wanting her to be upset, but she noticed anyway and didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘It’s very grand, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘But I don’t like it much. I do hope they won’t put me in there.’

  ‘There wouldn’t be room, not if your uncles are in there too,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t think my grandmother would like it in there either. She’d hate being shut away, not able to boss anyone around. She was always nagging me. Oh, Marcella, what a shame you’re not going to be a beauty like your sister. Can’t you do something with that wild hair? And do stop biting your nails or I’ll paint them with bitter aloes. She did too, on all of us, because we all bite our nails, even Esmeralda. That was our nickname for Grandmother – Bitter Aloes!’ Marcella giggled. ‘Go on, then. Show me your mother’s grave.’

  I took her round the back of the church, leading her along the row