Katy Read online

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said out loud. ‘And you’ll be very good and do what I say, won’t you?’ I looked imploringly at all the children, and to my relief they nodded solemnly.

  ‘Well, if you’re really sure … ? And you won’t forget to take the cakes out of the oven?’ said Mrs Hall, still looking desperately uncertain.

  ‘My cake! I want my cake!’ Phil said, forgetting all about his finger.

  ‘We’ll save it for you and you can have it tomorrow morning for breakfast,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Cake for breakfast,’ Philly murmured, enchanted with the idea. ‘And cake for Bunnyhop too?’

  ‘Yes, cake for both of you, as long as you’re a good boy for Mrs Hall,’ I said.

  She smiled at me gratefully.

  ‘We’ll be off then,’ she said. ‘Go to bed as soon as you’ve eaten your cake. Caroline, you’d better snuggle up with Katy and have a sleepover here as Dad’s out tonight. Is that all right, darling?’ She gave Cecy that special Mum look that always made my heart thump.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Mum, honestly,’ said Cecy.

  Phil looked suddenly uncertain as Mrs Hall carried him towards the door.

  ‘Katy?’ he said, holding out his arms to me.

  ‘You be a good boy now,’ I said, seizing hold of his little foot and giving it a gentle tug. ‘My goodness, you’re going to have such a splendid bandage!’

  Mrs Hall smiled at me. ‘You’ve certainly got the knack of handling the children, Katy. You’re going to be a brilliant mother when you grow up.’

  7

  I went back into the kitchen feeling flushed with pride. I’d never really imagined myself as a mother. I wanted all my sisters and brothers to come and live with me in my big house when I was grown up – but now I suddenly imagined a baby cooing in my arms, a little toddler clutching my leg, a four-year-old begging me to read her a story. It was a wonderful feeling. There had been such an aching gap in my life since Mum died. Now I saw there would be a way to feel complete again.

  I smiled at the children with a new maternal radiance.

  ‘Why are you grinning at us in that creepy way?’ said Elsie.

  I could have slapped her for spoiling things, but I made a heroic effort.

  ‘Come now, let’s get some of the washing-up done before the cakes come out the oven. Dorry and Jonnie, you can both squeeze up on the steps and do the washing together, and us girls will dry things, OK?’ I said, trying to sound calm and grown up.

  ‘Aren’t the cakes ready to come out now?’ asked Dorry, going to the oven hopefully. ‘I can smell them. I’m sure they’re all golden now.’

  ‘No, they won’t be ready for a while. You don’t want to eat cake that’s all raw in the middle, do you?’ I said.

  ‘I like any kind of cake. And actually, raw cake, like the stuff left in the mixing bowl, is utterly delicious. In fact, cooked cake round the edges and soft, gloopy raw cake inside would be my absolutely favourite cake of all time. Go on, Katy, let’s take the cakes out now. Jonnie wants raw cake too, don’t you, Jon?’ Dorry said.

  For once Jonnie didn’t back him up. She just stood there with her fingers in her mouth, looking agonized.

  ‘Jonnie, what is it?’ I said, going to her.

  ‘Phil!’ she said, gulping hard. ‘Will he bleed too much? Will he bleed to death?’

  ‘No, he’ll be fine, I promise,’ I said, hoping I was right. I had a sudden vision of my little brother chalk white, with the last drops of blood pumping out of his finger, and I had a little gulp myself. I pulled Jonnie’s fingers out of her mouth, wiped them on my T-shirt and then gave her a kiss on her rosy cheek. ‘There now, Jonnie. Come on, you two are my chief washers. Up the steps! Dorry, I dare say when all the dishes are done the cakes will be ready.’

  ‘You don’t know nothing about cakes,’ said Elsie. ‘You can’t even make pancakes.’

  ‘I know a great deal about whiny little children, and if you don’t button your lip and get on with helping I’ll pick you up and turn you upside down and shake some sense into you,’ I said.

  Elsie’s face puckered ominously.

  ‘I’m joking, silly,’ I said quickly. ‘Here, you can pour the washing-up liquid into the bowl. The littlies squirt too much in, but I know you’ll be careful.’

  ‘Clever Katy,’ Clover breathed as Elsie grabbed the bottle.

  ‘Poor Mum,’ said Cecy. ‘She said at home that she was a bit nervous of looking after all you lot because you get into so many scrapes. She was trying so hard to let us all have fun – and now she’ll be beating herself up about Phil, blaming herself.’

  ‘Well, she mustn’t. Of course it wasn’t her fault! I suppose it was mine, because I let him up the steps, and that’s how he grabbed the knife,’ I said. ‘And then I screamed and made him start and that’s why he cut himself. See, it’s all down to me!’

  ‘Of course it wasn’t your fault, Katy,’ said Clover, taking a tea towel. ‘Come on, you lot, get on with the washing. I’ll help with the big bowl if you like.’

  They got the washing-up done quickly while I carefully wiped down all the surfaces. Then I had a little peek at the cakes.

  ‘Mmm, don’t they smell lovely now! I think they are done! OK, everyone, stand back. No touching of the tin! We don’t want any burns or else we’ll all end up in hospital with poor Philly,’ I said, grabbing the oven glove.

  ‘Will he have to stay in hospital long?’ Jonnie asked, still very worried about him.

  ‘No, he’ll probably just have to have a stitch or two in his finger, that’s all. Stitches aren’t too bad. I’ve had heaps,’ I said, truthfully enough. When I was little I was forever tripping down steps or crashing my first bike or failing to balance on the top of walls. I have interesting little scars all over me.

  I got the cakes out of the oven without burning my own fingers and set them down to cool.

  ‘Can’t we eat them now when they’re lovely and hot?’ asked Dorry.

  ‘No! We want to put the icing on, don’t we? They have to be cool or the icing will melt.’

  ‘I like melted things best,’ said Dorry. ‘Especially ice cream when it goes all slurpy.’

  ‘You’re the slurpy one,’ I said. ‘Now, patience!’

  Mind you, it was hard for me to be patient. I was so wound up about poor little Phil that I was desperate to cram something sweet into my mouth for comfort. Still, I diverted everyone by telling them a story about a little girl called Katerina who made phenomenally good cakes when little more than an infant and who grew up to become the greatest pastry chef in the entire world. I made up cake after cake: a wedding cake as tall as a tower with sugar roses twining round and round; a huge christening cake with a life-size stork made out of icing feathers with sticks of pink liquorice for legs; a cake for a chess champion with twenty-four chocolate chess pieces, half white and half dark.

  Dorry stayed impatient, declaring he wanted real cake, not pretend, but Clover and Cecy and Jonnie marvelled enthusiastically. I made them up a cake each as a reward. Clover’s was pink and very creamy, with her name spelled out in tiny green sugar four-leaf clovers. Cecy’s was like a bed with a patterned quilt, with lots of little orphan babies tucked up inside. Jonnie’s was a round skateboarding area with all kinds of precarious chocolate quarter-pipes and a little marzipan Jonnie skimming the top of the tallest on her slick toffee skateboard.

  ‘What about my cake?’ said Elsie sulkily.

  It was terribly tempting to invent a disastrous cake for her because she hadn’t asked nicely at all, but I relented and made up a doll’s house cake for her, with little marzipan dolls peering out of the iced windows.

  ‘Oh, my cake’s the best of all!’ Elsie crowed, as if she’d made it up herself.

  ‘You girls are all so boring! I want real cake you can eat!’ said Dorry. ‘Those cakes must be cool by now.’ He poked at one with his finger. ‘It is, it is! See, Katy?’

  ‘Then we’ll ice them right this minute,’ I sa