Katy Read online

  Then we were safe! The secret garden looked as beguiling as ever. We dumped the picnic basket and circled our special place, admiring every soft, fragrant rose, taking our shoes off to walk in the long grass that tickled our ankles. Dorry even lost interest in the picnic for five minutes and was happy gambolling in the grass with Jonnie, both of them talking their own secret language, while Zebby kicked up his heels and lay on his back. Phil lay nose-to-nose with Tyler conducting a licking contest. This probably wasn’t very hygienic but they both enjoyed it very much.

  Clover and Cecy dragged the picnic under the weeping willow tree and started setting it out neatly on a plastic tablecloth, dividing everything into seven with scrupulous care. I took the chance to climb my special tree. The knee of my jeans got caught on an awkward branch and there was an ugly tearing sound. They were new jeans too, so Izzie wasn’t going to be happy. Oh well, I’d simply have to remind her that ripped jeans were the latest fashion.

  I got almost to the top of the tree and clung there, peering down at the tiny world below me. It was particularly weird looking down into my own garden. Dad and Izzie were sitting on the little terrace, drinking cups of coffee. Their heads were close and they were murmuring together. I hated seeing them like that. I looked up at the sky instead. An aeroplane was flying high in the sky. Perhaps I’d be an airline pilot one day and swoop over vast continents on a daily basis. Or maybe I’d be an astronaut and hurtle upwards into space until the Earth itself looked as small as my own back garden.

  I went off into a daydream but was soon brought back to earth by the clamour beneath me. The littlies had got tired of playing and wanted their picnic ‘now, now, now!’ So we all ducked under the soft green fronds of the weeping willow and sat cross-legged round the wonderful feast. I pretended it was an exotic gargantuan banquet of champagne and caviar, suckling pig and guinea fowl, and extraordinary sweetmeats, with fine offerings from abroad of crushed cocoa bean and golden slivers of potato, when it was actually lemonade, tuna sandwiches, chipolata sausages and chicken wings, and strawberry cupcakes, with Cecy’s contribution of Kit Kats and crisps. I’m sure our real feast tasted just as good as the imaginary one would have done.

  We ate and ate, even Elsie, who’s ultra picky. Dorry looked at her share hopefully, but she ate it all up, every crumb. Then we lay back with full tummies.

  ‘Start up a game, Katy,’ said Clover.

  I thought of all my plans for the future.

  ‘OK. What do we all want to do when we grow up? You go first, Cecy,’ I said, giving her a gentle nudge.

  ‘Well … I’m going to grow my hair right down to my waist – not extensions, my real hair – and I’ll have highlights to make it look blonder, and I want to stay quite thin but much curvier, you know …’ Cecy waved her hand in the air.

  Dorry and Jonnie sniggered.

  ‘You shut up, you two! Carry on, Cecy,’ I commanded. ‘Will you be a dancer?’

  ‘Yes, and a singer, so I’ll have several really big hits and I’ll be splashed all over the celebrity magazines,’ said Cecy.

  ‘Boring!’ Elsie muttered, and I glared at her.

  ‘But then do you know what I’m going to do?’ said Cecy.

  ‘Get married and have five children?’ Clover suggested.

  ‘No, I’ll have all these film stars and boy bands mad about me and I might have a little fling here and there, but I’m going to use my money to start a special orphanage in some poor country and I’ll go there myself and tend all the little babies, just like Mother Teresa,’ Cecy said triumphantly.

  ‘You’ll be Sister Cecy,’ I said. ‘That’s wonderful! Right, Clover, your turn.’

  ‘Well, I want long hair down to my waist too, and I’ll straighten it so there isn’t a single curl left, and I’ll be very rich too. Maybe I’ll work in the City and make pots of money,’ said Clover.

  ‘But you’re rubbish at maths,’ said Elsie.

  ‘I’ll be great at finance, just you wait and see. Who’s got the most pocket money out of all of us, eh?’ said Clover.

  Elsie couldn’t dispute this, because Clover hoarded her money carefully while we generally spent ours as soon as we got it.

  ‘So, see, I’ll be mega rich and live in a huge great mansion with a swimming pool and a helicopter pad, so I’ll swim every day and go for a ride in my helicopter, and I’ll have a brand-new designer outfit every single day – and I’ll also buy lovely designer clothes for children and heaps and heaps of toys and mini iPads and small bikes and I’ll ship them all out for Cecy’s orphans,’ said Clover.

  ‘Brilliant!’ I said. ‘Go on then, Elsie, your turn.’

  ‘Well, I’ll – I’ll have long hair right down to my feet and I’ll be the greatest singer and dancer ever and I’ll feed all the orphans in an entire country and I’ll make billions and billions of pounds in the City and I’ll wear a new set of clothes every hour and I’ll be so generous to little children that the Queen will make me Princess Elsie,’ she said, waving her arms around emphatically.

  ‘That’s just copying Cecy and Clover,’ I said. ‘But OK, now it’s your turn, Dorry.’

  ‘Easy-peasy,’ said Dorry. ‘When I grow up I’m going to order king-size pizzas every day with ten different toppings on every one, and I’ll have giant cupcakes with heaps of buttercream, and ten chocolate bars, and I’ll have a huge tub of ice cream every day too and all the fizzy drinks I want, and no one will ever say, “That’s enough for a little boy,” or tell me I’ll get fat.’

  We all fell about laughing.

  ‘You little pig, Dorry!’ I said. ‘What about you, Jonnie?’

  ‘I’ll tame a real zebra as my special pet and learn how to ride my bike right up into the sky like in that old ET film and I’ll play for a Premier League football team,’ said Jonnie.

  ‘Cool!’ I said. ‘And you, Phil?’

  ‘I’ll be a big, big lion and I’ll eat you all up!’ said Phil, and he ran round roaring at us.

  Then Dorry and Jonnie started pretending to be lions too and they crawled out of the willow cave and went running round crazily with Phil, playing the Eat You All Up game.

  ‘They’re such babies,’ said Elsie scornfully.

  ‘They’re just having fun,’ I said.

  ‘What about you, Katy? You haven’t said what you’re going to do when you’re grown up,’ said Clover.

  ‘Yes, go on – tell,’ said Cecy.

  So I told them all my plans about living in a big house with everyone and being brilliantly famous and winning lots of car races and writing best-selling books. I heard my voice go all wavery while I was telling it, because it suddenly seemed a bit silly. I wanted it to be real, but maybe it was just childish pretend. That was the trouble with getting older. Sometimes I couldn’t quite believe things any more. We could be right in the middle of a brilliant new game – all of us playing we were brain surgeons or animal trainers or Russian royalty – and it could seem as real as anything, and then suddenly in a flash I’d see we were just Katy and Clover and Cecy saying silly stuff and getting pink in the face.

  But Clover and Cecy still seemed to believe in me, thank goodness.

  ‘Can I have my own room in your house, Katy – a pink room with a giant pink teddy bear and a built-in wardrobe for all my designer clothes?’ Clover asked.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said graciously.

  ‘And will you take me for rides in your cars, if you promise not to go too fast?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, me too, me too!’ said Cecy.

  ‘I’ll have a special red Ferrari just for the three of us,’ I promised.

  ‘And will you dedicate your first book to me, Katy?’ Cecy asked. ‘To Cecy, my best friend in all the world.’

  ‘Of course, and it will also be to Clover, the best sister in all the world,’ I promised. ‘Oh, I forgot! I’m not the only writer in the family! Did you know Dorry’s been keeping a diary?’

  ‘Dorry?’ said Clover.

  ‘I found it t