Katy Read online

  I looked at the cream fluff’s owner now. Yes, she looked rich. She had that lovely pink-and-white skin and beautiful long fair hair in two pigtails with green-and-gold striped ribbons. They looked freshly plaited, though it was late afternoon.

  I was suddenly conscious of my own wild hair, half-scraped back with an old elastic band, my fringe falling in my eyes. I looked down at my faded school dress, now far too short on me, showing much too much long leg. I saw my own scabby knees and grubby socks and scuffed shoes.

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘We’re like a silly video or something. Of owners that look just like their dogs. Tyler and I are all noisy and scruffy and untidy, and you and your little puppy look dead posh and immaculate.’

  ‘Katy!’ Clover hissed, puffing up beside us.

  ‘Well, they do,’ I said. ‘What kind of a puppy is that?’

  ‘She’s a little bichon frise.’ She pulled a face. ‘Silly name, isn’t it?’

  ‘What’s she called?’

  ‘Coco. What about your dog?’

  ‘He’s Tyler. He’s a rescue dog. We’re not sure what breed he is – some sort of terrier anyway. Tyler! Stop being such a pest. Coco doesn’t want to play with you,’ I said.

  ‘She’s a hopeless wuss but I love her to bits,’ said the girl. ‘I’m Imogen, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Katy.’

  ‘And I’m Clover, Katy’s sister,’ said Clover.

  ‘Whereabouts do you live? We’ve just lived here a couple of months, in Jessop Avenue. Do you know it?’ said Imogen.

  We knew it all right. Jessop Avenue was one of our favourite walks. All the houses were like palaces: huge Victorian villas with turrets and towers. Some had been turned into flats and several were grand nursing homes, but many were still proper family houses. Clover and I often spent ages deciding which house we liked best so we could buy it when we were grown up and rich and famous. One of our special favourites had been up for sale recently, a beautiful pink house with white shutters, and matching pink and white hydrangeas in the garden.

  ‘You don’t live in the pink house, do you?’ I asked eagerly.

  ‘Yes! How on earth did you know?’ said Imogen.

  ‘Oh, just a guess. It’s a lovely house,’ I said.

  ‘Do you or your brothers or sisters have the round bit on top for your bedroom?’ Clover asked.

  ‘I have it. I haven’t got any brothers or sisters, worse luck,’ said Imogen.

  ‘So there’s just three of you in that huge great house?’ I asked, amazed.

  ‘Katy!’ Clover hissed again.

  ‘It’s OK. Yep, just the three of us. And Rosa, she’s the housekeeper.’

  Clover and I exchanged glances. A housekeeper!

  ‘Well, there’s eight of us, without any housekeeper,’ I said.

  ‘Eight! Goodness!’ said Imogen.

  ‘It’s a bit complicated. There’s Dad and Izzie, she’s our stepmother. Our mum died when we were little. Then there’s Elsie, our stepsister. And Dorry and Jonnie and Phil, they’re halves. And Tyler.’

  ‘And Sally, our cat,’ said Clover.

  ‘You sound like a storybook family,’ said Imogen.

  ‘No, you’re like a storybook girl,’ I said.

  ‘How old are you, Katy? Thirteen? Fourteen?’

  ‘Eleven. I just seem older because I’m so tall,’ I said, pulling a face.

  ‘I’m eleven too!’

  ‘And I’m ten,’ said Clover.

  ‘Do you have a doctor here yet?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, though I’m not ill,’ said Imogen, looking puzzled. ‘I just had to go to Dr Carr to get some Ventolin as I have asthma sometimes.’

  ‘Dr Carr!’ Clover and I chorused.

  ‘Yes. Is he your doctor too? He’s ever so nice,’ said Imogen.

  We burst out laughing.

  ‘He’s our dad!’ I said. ‘And he is ever so nice. What does your dad do, Imogen?’

  ‘Oh, he’s in the music business. It’s a bit of a laugh … Ages ago he was in this boy band – Lightning Flash?’

  Clover and I looked suitably impressed, though we didn’t know much about boy bands and didn’t know if Lightning Flash were really famous or not. It didn’t really matter. Imogen’s dad still sounded impossibly cool and glamorous.

  ‘What about your mum?’

  ‘Oh, she used to be a model. She’s an actress now.’

  ‘Oh wow! You’ve got amazing parents,’ I said.

  ‘Is your mum in a play now?’ asked Clover.

  ‘No, she doesn’t work in the theatre. She’s in television, mostly. She had a part in Shopping Mall for a while.’

  We’d never heard of that either but we raised our eyebrows and nodded.

  ‘Does your stepmum work – or is she too busy looking after all of you?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘She makes these fancy handbags out of suede and leather. They’re very pretty, with little flowers,’ said Clover.

  ‘No, they’re not,’ I said. ‘And they’re not much use anyway. You can’t fit enough stuff into them.’

  Long ago Izzie had made Clover and me special school bags. Clover still had hers, but mine tore after only a few weeks. Izzie mended it, but it ripped all over again, just because I took out six books from the library and stuffed them in my bag, along with my history project and a large biscuit tin full of pennies because I was collecting for Battersea Dogs & Cats Home.

  ‘She made Tyler a bed too,’ said Clover.

  ‘Yes, and he doesn’t think much of it. He’s already chewed half of it to bits, haven’t you, little boy?’ I said. I picked him up and held him close to Coco. ‘Now, say hello properly, gently, very gently.’

  Tyler squirmed and Coco shrank from him, but they gave each other a little sniff. When we tried putting them on the grass Tyler kept his leaping-about in check and Coco had a little delicate sniff at him.

  ‘There! They’re friends!’ I cried.

  ‘I’m so pleased. Coco’s usually hopeless with other dogs. Yes, they really are friends,’ said Imogen, as the two puppies ran round in circles together.

  ‘You must bring her round to our house so they can have a proper play date,’ I said. ‘Come round Saturday morning. We’re 38 Roxburgh Road – it’s just down the way. You will come, won’t you?’

  ‘We’d both love to,’ said Imogen.

  ‘But we always go to the secret garden with Cecy on Saturdays,’ Clover said to me on the way home.

  ‘Yes, but not till after she’s finished her boring old dancing. Imogen can come round before. And if she stays we can always swear her to secrecy and take her to the secret garden too,’ I said.

  ‘Yes …’ said Clover, but she sounded worried. ‘What will Izzie say? You know she always goes on about you asking her first before inviting anyone round.’

  That was after a huge row because I’d invited this poor homeless guy round for a cup of tea and a sandwich because he looked so cold and hungry. And it was all Izzie’s fault that she’d left her purse practically sticking out of her bag.

  ‘Izzie won’t mind if it’s just another girl I’ve asked,’ I said. ‘And anyway, it’s not Izzie’s house, it’s Dad’s, and I’m sure he won’t mind. Look, we won’t say anything, just to be on the safe side. Izzie can’t turn Imogen away once she’s there on the doorstep.’

  ‘I think we’d better ask all the same,’ said Clover.

  ‘You ask, then. You’ll do it better than me,’ I said.

  So at supper Clover smiled sweetly at Izzie, told her the shepherd’s pie was extra yummy, and then added casually, ‘Oh Izzie, Katy and I met such a lovely girl at the park when we were walking Tyler. She’s new to the neighbourhood and I don’t think she’s got many friends yet. Could she possibly come round to ours one Saturday? Well, this Saturday?’

  Strangely, Izzie wasn’t fooled. She glared at me.

  ‘Katy! I’ve told you not to go round asking complete strangers to our house! And if you do it, have the grace to admit to it