Katy Read online

  I spent a long time deliberating on how to sign off. I was too shy to put Love, Katy. It seemed too silly and formal to put With best wishes, let alone Yours sincerely. In the end I just typed my name. I added one x, then removed it, then at the last second put it in again as I sent it.

  I got a reply in a matter of minutes.

  Definitely Poor Crip Girl is second-worst person in world. You’re still a total amateur in meanness next to the warped and evilly twisted Mad Crip Guy. I just reduced Jasmine to tears – lovely Jasmine, the sweetest of them all. If I’d bad-mouthed old Jeannie Big Bum it wouldn’t be so bad.

  Don’t beat yourself up about it. How are you doing anyway? They’re talking about me going home soon too. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, with parents fussing and fretting. But it’s totally crap here too, especially since you went home. No one fun to talk to!

  Dexter x

  He’d sent me a kiss too! And he’d made it plain he was missing me! I felt so cheered that I yelled out to Izzie and Elsie that I was sorry, and acted like St Katherine for the rest of the evening – but the next morning I felt as mean and mad as ever.

  When she came back from ferrying the children to school Izzie tried to get me interested in her stupid handbags. They were made of very soft suede or leather, with appliquéd flowers added on top. They were much too posh and girly for my taste, but Izzie sold quite a few at craft fairs.

  ‘I want to do a special wintry design with sprigs of holly and mistletoe instead of flowers. I think they’ll sell really well at the big Christmas craft fair at the garden centre,’ said Izzie. ‘Do you think you could help me with them, Katy?’

  ‘What, you want me to come along and act like a Victorian waif? I’ll be the pathetic little crip girl in her wheelchair: “Oh please buy my stepmummy’s handbags so I don’t have to sell matches on the street.” ’

  ‘Katy, don’t! I didn’t mean that at all, though if you wanted to come I think you’d quite enjoy yourself. No, I meant perhaps you could help me make my bags.’

  ‘What, use your machine?’ I did get vaguely interested then. Izzie wouldn’t ever let any of us go near her special sewing machine.

  ‘No, not my machine – well, not unless I give you lessons with lots of supervised practice first. Would you like to learn to use it?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, just to stop her getting all eager.

  ‘Anyway, what I’d really like is for you to cut out some of the leaves and berries for me. I’ll make a template and then all you have to do is cut round it. It’s quite hard cutting leather, but I’ve got very good scissors.’

  ‘Oooh, cutting out! And I’m to be trusted with real scissors! Are you sure you can trust me with them? Perhaps I’d better use Phil’s plastic ones with the rounded ends? We don’t want the little crip girl to cut her fingers off too, do we?’

  ‘For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you, Katy?’ Izzie said, her face flushing.

  ‘What’s the matter with me? Oh, let me see … Could it possibly be because I’m stuck here in a wheelchair being nannied by my stupid stepmother and my whole bloody life is ruined?’ I said.

  ‘What about my life?’ Izzie shouted. ‘I don’t want to fuss round you all day long. You act like a spoilt little cow the entire time. You’re hateful to me; you’re hateful to your brothers and sisters; you’re hateful to everyone. I know you’re desperately unhappy, of course you are; I’d give anything to make you better. But I can’t. I know you don’t like me, Katy. We’ve never got on – though I’ve tried and tried. You think I’m trying to take your mother’s place, but I don’t want to do that. I just hoped we could be friends, get close somehow. Fat chance of that! Don’t help me with my bags then. Don’t do anything. Just sit there and be spiteful.’

  She ran out of the room. I sat there, shaking. I’d never seen Izzie lose her temper before. When she was cross she generally became even more controlled. It was shocking to see her shouting, with spittle on her lips, tears in her eyes. I could see just how much I’d really hurt her.

  I told myself I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt her. She was right: I didn’t like her. Why should I have to try to love her just because she’d married my dad?

  But I still felt dreadful. She was right. I was spiteful. I could feel the spite in me, bubbling away. I wanted to hurt everyone because I was hurting so.

  I thought Izzie might leave me alone all day. I wouldn’t have blamed her. I heard her in the living room, talking to someone on the phone. I went cold all over. She was telling Dad how mean I’d been. Dad was still the only member of the family I tried hard with, apart from Tyler.

  Oh Tyler! He had been so excited to see me come home, had licked me all over for a full five minutes, and I had cried with joy to be with him again. I’d had visions of him becoming a special assistance dog who would sit on my lap all day and run and fetch me things when I commanded him. Tyler ran – but he didn’t come back. He jumped up on me frequently when I was in bed or stuck in my chair, but then he bounced off again and stood staring at me with his head on one side, clearly wondering why I wasn’t jumping up to play with him. He was fine when he was sleepy and would come for a cuddle, using me like a favourite old pillow – but when he was wide awake he made it plain I was no fun any more.

  I still tried hard, inventing new games and treats, but he hung out with the other children when they were home, treating me very much as sixth-best.

  Izzie’s voice was still murmuring away. I strained to hear what she was saying. I knew she was talking about me; I heard her say ‘Katy’ several times. Then she said something like, ‘Thank God you’re coming to see her.’ She was talking to Dad! She’d summoned him home from the surgery, something that only happened in dire emergencies. What if she’d said she couldn’t look after me any more? I didn’t want her to care for me – but who else would do it if she wouldn’t?

  I sat despairing, hearing her go into the kitchen. Then she came into my room with two cups of tea.

  ‘I think we both need to calm down a bit,’ she said, giving me one.

  ‘Were you phoning Dad?’ I asked.

  ‘No!’ she said.

  ‘Really? I know you were going on about me. I could hear a bit.’

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t talking to your father. He’s worried enough about you already. Now drink your tea,’ said Izzie.

  She’d brought me a couple of Party Rings biscuits too, my favourites. I nibbled and sipped. I started to try to think of a way of saying sorry that didn’t sound too sickening. I went hot with embarrassment but I knew I had to give it a go.

  ‘I – I didn’t really mean what I said,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ said Izzie. ‘And I meant what I said too. We’re both worn out with trying to cope. I suppose it’s only natural we get fed up with each other.’

  ‘I do like you. Sort of. It’s just …’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you don’t actually like me. You can’t do. Because I’m so difficult.’

  ‘Yes, you are difficult. Bloody difficult,’ said Izzie. It was the first time I’d ever heard her swear. ‘But I do like you, Katy, a lot of the time.’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘Well, I’m not a saint,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘If you must know, it was Helen.’

  ‘Oh goodness!’

  ‘I was a bit worried about phoning her in case she was in the middle of a tutorial or something, but luckily term hasn’t started yet so she had time to talk. I thought she might have some advice. Maybe she could think of some way of helping you learn to cope.’

  ‘She didn’t ask to speak to me?’ I said, feeling disappointed.

  ‘She’s coming to speak to you in person,’ said Izzie. ‘She said she’ll cancel a couple of things and come tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh goodness. To stay?’

  ‘No, she’s making a day trip. Driving all the way from Cambridge to see you and then going b