Книга - Jelly Baby

Jelly Baby
Jean Ure


A humorous and heart-warming story about a little sister, a big sister, a cat, a dad and… a new girlfriend!Bitsy, or ‘Jelly Baby’ as she’s sometimes called, has been doing just fine living with Dad and big sister Em since Mum died. The housework may not always get done, and dinners might not always be at the table, but none of them ever minded!Until one day Dad brings home a girlfriend – and everything changes. Now it looks like it might be down to the Jelly Baby of the family to keep it from falling apart…














For Zoe Cross, because she apologised


Table of Contents

Cover (#udee2773f-7faa-5cdb-952c-e6cbb2215d58)

Title Page (#u2cceb5f7-0a04-5c5d-baf4-4de0d6a535db)

Dedication (#u06f413e6-ff80-5750-9608-14a1b0d7ebc9)

Chapter One (#udb5ed098-6014-5b3f-ab0b-e554ba1430d7)

Chapter Two (#uc08e58e2-0687-52b0-99fe-3e55e529cd20)

Chapter Three (#u67b55b20-34b1-5852-a21e-492b0b2189d5)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Jean Ure (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)







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“Right, girls!” Cass clapped her hands. “Big clean-up! Let’s get started.”

Em and I pulled faces. We weren’t used to doing housework! Cass is our auntie, and very easy-going. All the time she’d lived with us we’d just bumbled along in one big happy muddle. Now, suddenly, we had an emergency – today was the day when Dad’s new girlfriend was coming to dinner!

“You can stop all the huffing and puffing,” said Cass. “I want this place spotless! Who wants to dust, who wants to hoover?”

“Bags hoover,” I said. I like hoovering, specially when there’s lots of empty carpet. I’m not so keen on having to move things. Chairs and stuff. Mostly I don’t bother; I just go round them.

Cass pushed the vacuum cleaner towards me. “There you go. OK, Em, seems like you’re doing the dusting.”

Em gave me a venomous glare. She’s my big sister, so she probably thought she was the one that should have been allowed to choose.

“Here you are.” Cass tossed the sleeve of an old sweater at her. Sleeves of old sweaters were what we tended to use for dusting. Also socks with holes, and worn-out shirts. “Why waste money on proper dusters?” is what Cass used to say. She’s totally into recycling.

Em flicked half-heartedly with her old sweater sleeve.

“I’ll need a bit more energy than that!” said Cass. “And you, Bitsy.” She nodded sternly at me. “No missing out on corners.”

I said, “You can’t get into corners. Anyway, we did all this when Dad had his party.” Dad had invited everybody that worked in his department at college, and we had dusted and vacuumed all over the place. Why do it again so soon after?

“For your information,” said Cass, “your dad’s party was way back last month.”

“Was it?” I said. “Blimey!”

“I know,” said Cass, “it’s appalling. Most people do it once a week.”

“No, I meant blimey, it doesn’t seem that long ago.”

“Well, it is, so just get on with it.”

“What are you going to do?” said Em.

Cass cast her eye about the room. “I am going to clear up all this stuff.” She waved a hand at the dining table, which is hardly ever used as a dining table since we usually eat in the kitchen. As a result it is permanently covered in what Cass calls clutter. A big pile of clothes, waiting to be ironed. Someone’s school bag. Someone’s homework. Someone’s trainers. Books. Newspapers. Bananas. Bananas?

“Where does it all come from?” said Cass. “More importantly,” she added, “where is it all supposed to go?”

She began picking things up and throwing them into a bin bag. Em and I let out immediate wails.

“Those are my trainers!”

“That’s my homework!”

“Just for now, just for now.” Trainers and homework were tossed into the bag. “You can take them out later.”

On top of the ironing was a big fat fur ball, happily snoozing. It was Bella, our cat. She does a lot of snoozing.

“You can’t move her,” said Em. “Not when she’s settled.”

“Pardon me,” said Cass. “Some of us have work to do.” With that she plucked poor Bella off the ironing and deposited her, rather rudely I thought, on the sofa. Bella sat up, looking shocked.

“That’s cruel,” I said. How would Cass like it if someone plucked her out of her nice cosy bed and plonked her down somewhere else?

“Can’t help it.” Cass swept up the ironing and flung it in the bag. “Got to make the place look decent. We don’t want Caroline thinking we live in a tip.”

Caroline was the name of Dad’s girlfriend. Caroline Scott-Mason. Very grand!

“Cass is right,” said Em. “We have to make a bit of an effort. It’s only fair.”

She meant fair to Dad. It was ages since he’d had a girlfriend. Unless you counted Polly. Polly was one of the lecturers in his department at college, and for a while we’d had what Cass called High Hopes. And then Caroline had come along. It wasn’t that we didn’t like Caroline, what little we’d seen of her. We liked her a lot! It’s just that we’d known Polly for ever. She’d been there for us all those years ago when Mum had died, before Cass had moved in to look after us. Cass said Dad had probably known her too long and as a result he took her for granted.

“It’s just one of those things. Polly’s like an old comfortable slipper; Caroline is new and exciting. You can’t blame your dad. He was devastated when he lost your mum. It’s not surprising if he’s behaving like a lovesick teenager.”

Was he? Perhaps he was. I giggled.

“Come on,” said Cass. “Give him a break!”

Cass is Dad’s sister and fiercely loyal. She said it was about time Dad found some happiness in his life. “Goodness knows, he’s waited long enough.”

“I agree,” said Em. She gave me one of her looks. What I call her big sister look. Very quickly I said that I agreed too. Cos I did! I was just as anxious as anyone else for Dad to be happy. It was the only reason we were all working so hard to make the evening a success. For Dad’s sake. Nothing else would have had me whizzing around with the vacuum cleaner at five o’clock on a Saturday afternoon without grumbling about it!

I personally consider housework to be a total waste of time, not to mention energy. To my way of thinking, a bit of mess and clutter makes a place more comfortable, but I had this feeling Caroline might be the sort of person that thinks tidiness is important.

I jumped up and flapped my hand at a cobweb hanging off the lampshade. Caroline wouldn’t approve of cobwebs! The two times we’d met her we’d been, like, gobsmacked. How did Dad get a girlfriend like that? Smart and sassy, dressed like she’d just stepped off the catwalk. Dad is the least smart person in the world. Left to himself he would shamble around in the same old baggy joggers and faded sweatshirt until they fell to pieces. And even then he probably wouldn’t notice! He is really not into fashion at all.

We were quite surprised when he poked his head round the sitting-room door to announce that he was going off to fetch Caroline and we saw that he was all dressed up.

“Dad!” I left off vacuuming and skipped sideways to get a better look. “You’re wearing proper trousers!”

Dad shuffled, obviously embarrassed.

“Don’t tease him,” said Cass. “He wants to look nice. He does look nice!”

“I didn’t even know you had that jacket,” said Em.

“Been in the cupboard for years,” muttered Dad. “Thought I’d better give it a go before the moths got at it.”

“Quite right too,” said Cass.

“So, um … how’s it going?” said Dad.

“All under control. Don’t worry! As soon as we’ve finished in here we’re going to start preparing dinner. Right, you two?”

“Right.” We nodded. A faint look of alarm had spread across Dad’s face.

“You mean, you haven’t actually cooked anything yet?”

“It’s only just gone five,” said Cass. “We’re aiming for seven o’clock. Yes? Yes! So off you go.” She gave Dad a little push. “We’ll see you back here at six thirty. Just stop panicking! We’ve got it all planned.”

“If you say so,” said Dad. He still didn’t sound too certain.

“I do say so! Will you please just go?”

“You’re making us nervous,” said Em.

“Sorry,” said Dad. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll get out of your hair.”

He disappeared and we heard the front door open and close. I giggled. “I think Dad’s the one that’s nervous!”

Cass said, “He is, bless him. Like a boy on his first date! Let’s go and make a start on the food.”

We’d already decided what we were going to do – steak and kidney pie followed by lemon possets. Mock steak and kidney, that is. Thanks to Cass, we had all become vegetarian ages ago. So instead of steak we used Quorn pieces, and instead of kidney we had brown mushrooms. Chestnut mushrooms, I think they are called. With mashed potatoes and gravy, and pastry on top, it is very yummy! Nobody would ever guess it didn’t have meat in it.

“Bags I do the potatoes!” I said.

“That’s not fair,” said Em. “You already got to do the vacuuming. It’s my turn to choose … I’ll do the potatoes, you do the onions.”

Ugh! Yuck. Onions make your eyes water.

“You do the garlic, then,” I said.

“No way! Whoever does the onions does the garlic as well. You can always roll out the pastry,” she added, “if you like.”

“Oh, all right,” I said.

She was being quite generous, cos we both enjoy rolling out pastry.

“Know what?” said Cass, setting down the frying pan. “I’m starting to have second thoughts … I’m wondering if we should have real meat, as it’s a guest.”

We both stared at her, shocked. I could hardly believe what I was hearing!

“You mean cook dead animal?” said Em.

Cass did look a bit ashamed. “Only because it’s so important to your dad,” she pleaded.

“We don’t do meat when Gran comes,” I said.

“Gran’s not his girlfriend.”

“Ladyfriend, actually,” said Em.

“Whatever.” Cass waved a hand. “It seems only polite.”

“But it’s a principle,” said Em. “You don’t break a principle just to be polite!”

“In any case,” I said, “we haven’t got any meat.” I giggled. “Unless we give her cat food!”

“I could always pop up the road and buy a tin of stewing steak.”

“I’m not going to eat stewing steak,” said Em.

“Nor ’m I,” I said, though I really only said it to support Em. I would never have admitted it to her, but every now and again, at school, I was almost tempted to let my friend Lottie feed me a bite of something meaty as a sort of dare, just to see what it tasted like. I mean, I wasn’t scared of it or anything. But it’s really important to Em. She is into animals in a big way.

“Maybe I should do two pies,” said Cass. “One for Caroline and one for the rest of us.”

“If you do that,” said Em, chucking her potato peeler across the draining board, “I refuse to help.”

Cass sighed. It’s rare for Em to throw a tantrum. She is not at all a rebellious sort of person. It’s just that she has these really strong feelings.

“Honestly,” I said, “nobody’s ever going to know it’s not real meat. We could pretend it’s chicken … chicken and mushroom!”

“I don’t think we can actually lie about it,” said Cass. “On the other hand we don’t actually have to say that it’s not meat.” She suddenly cheered up. “We’ll make the gravy nice and strong! That’ll help.”

“Yes, and we’ve got my lemon possets for after,” I said. “Everybody loves those!”

I’d made the possets myself. It is my special pudding that I do. Cream, sugar and lemon juice, all whisked up and poured into little separate dishes. I am quite proud of my lemon possets! They are what Cass calls gourmet, meaning, like, very refined. Not just some old rubbish out of a tin.

I reckoned the whole meal was going to be gourmet, what with the dining table being cleared of clutter and laid out all posh and proper with place mats and sparkly glasses, and the cutlery checked to make sure there weren’t any bits of old food mouldering on it, which is what sometimes happens when me and Cass do the washing-up.

Em says we are slapdash. When shewashes up she is very slow and careful. I get quite impatient! I keep trying to snatch things from her so I can get on with wiping them. This leads to breakages. We break a lot of things in our house. It is one of the reasons we tend not to have any matching plates or glasses.

Dad isn’t so much slapdash as clumsy. He managed to shatter a glass the other day just breathing on it. Well, that is what he claimed.

“I didn’t go anywhere near it!” he had said.

Dad is pretty useless, really, at everything except teaching people history. He can’t even change a plug without nearly electrocuting himself. But he is a very intelligent person. Perhaps that was why Caroline had fallen for him. She must have realised from the word go that he was not very clever at the ordinary, everyday things of life, since the way they met was when Dad reversed into her twice in the underground car park! He is not the world’s best driver. According to Cass, he could even be the world’s worst.

Poor Dad! He really did need looking after. It was why we were all working so hard to make the evening a success. Just because Dad was hopeless it didn’t mean the rest of us were.

Now that we’d finally settled on what to cook, Cass started to fret about not having a proper wine glass for Caroline to drink out of.

“I thought that was a wine glass,” I said. I pointed to one that I’d spent ages polishing with a bit of old sheet that we used for wiping up. “It looks like one.”

“Actually,” said Cass, “it’s a sherry glass.”

“Sherry is wine,” said Em.

“Not table wine. Oh, God, why didn’t I think of it before? I could have picked some up on my way home!”

“We’d only go and break them,” I said.

Cass ran her fingers through her hair, bunching it up on top of her head.

“This is serious! Caroline’s not the sort of person to drink wine out of an ordinary tumbler.”

“So why can’t she drink it out of the sherry glass? It’s ever such a nice shape!”

Cass said, “But it’s not a wine glass! It wouldn’t hold more than a thimbleful.”

I honestly couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. A glass is a glass, seems to me.

“They’re very pretty tumblers,” I said. Gran had given them to us last Christmas. “And look, there’s loads of them!”

“They’re still tumblers.” Cass took her fingers out of her hair, leaving it sticking up like a haystack. “Sophisticated people don’t drink wine out of tumblers.”

I said, “Oh.” Caroline was definitely a sophisticated person.

“I don’t want her thinking your dad’s some kind of oik. And omigod! What about plates? Do we have five plates?”

Em rushed to have a look. “There are five with roses,” she said, “but two of them are chipped.”

Cass let out a little scream. Me and Em exchanged glances. Em shook her head. Cass is usually such a calm sort of person. Very laid-back, like Dad. I was really surprised it bothered her so much. I mean … once the food was on them, what did it matter?

“You can always give the bad ones to me and Em,” I said, trying to be helpful. “We won’t mind.”

“She’ll still notice,” moaned Cass. “I’m sorry, girls, I know you think I’m making a fuss over nothing, but I feel so bad for your dad. I feel like I’m letting him down.”

Me and Em stayed silent.

“Thing is,” said Em at last, “it’s Dad she’s supposed to be in love with. Not plates and glasses and stuff.”

“This is it,” I said. “If I was in love with somebody I wouldn’t care what they ate off. They could eat off newspaper. They could eat off the floor! Wouldn’t make any difference to me.”

“I would think it’s a bit pathetic,” said Em. “Getting all worked up about that sort of thing.”

Sadly, Cass said, “That just shows what sort of upbringing you’ve had. I’ve been a poor substitute for a mother!”

We both immediately rushed to reassure her.

“You’ve taught us to care about the things that really matter,” said Em. “Like not eating animals, and—”

She stopped and rather frantically rolled an eye in my direction. I dived in to her rescue.

“And not wasting your life doing boring things like housework!”

Cass smiled and shook her head. “Oh dear,” she said. “What a legacy! Never mind.” She picked up the mock steak and kidney and popped it into the oven. “It’s a bit too late to do anything about it now. I suggest you two go and get changed. Your dad will be bringing Caroline back at any moment.”

“Why have we got to change?” said Em. “What’s wrong with the way we are?”

“Well, for one thing,” said Cass, “you’re covered in flour. Just go and find something clean! You want your dad to be proud of you, don’t you?”

“Got to be smart for Caroline,” I cried, as we hurtled upstairs.

I knew exactly what I was going to wear. I had this favourite skirt, bright red with pleats, like a mini kilt. Really short. I mean, like, really short. My friend Lottie had one too; we’d bought them at the same time. Lottie’s mum had taken one look and gone, “Oh, to be eleven years old again! What I wouldn’t give to be able to wear something like that.”

Lottie, being kind, said, “Mum, you still could!” but her mum said no.

“They’re for little young people, not middle-aged mums.”

As I stood in front of my wardrobe mirror, admiring myself, there came an anguished wail from Em’s room.

“Hey, Bitsy!”

“What?”

I went on to the landing. Em appeared, trailing garments.

“Oh,” she said, “you’ve got your skirt on. I adore that skirt!”

“You ought to get one,” I said.

Not that we could have worn them at the same time. Well, if they were different colours I suppose we could. Me and Lottie did. But Em rather sadly said, “It would just look stupid on me. I’m the wrong sort of shape.”

It’s true that Em is a bit tall and gangly, and somewhat on the skinny side, whereas I am short and – not dumpy. But kind of … well! Roundish.

“So what are you going to wear?” I said.

“I don’t know!” Em held up the various garments she’d pulled out of her wardrobe. “What do you think? Would these do?”

She waved a pair of jeans at me. I inspected them critically. I am not an expert in fashion. Fashion is not really something that plays much of a part in our lives. As far as Dad and Cass are concerned, it doesn’t even exist. But I do have a bit more of a clue than Em. Being long and skinny, Em is very sensitive about her appearance. She doesn’t have much confidence. Even though she is two years older than I am she is always turning to me for advice.

Anxiously, she said, “So what do you think?”

“Jeans’ll be OK,” I said. “So long as you have a nice top.”

“This?”

She held up a big chunky sweater that Gran had knitted for her. Em likes big chunky sweaters – she reckons they’ll hide the fact that she doesn’t have any bosom. I told her yes, OK, cos I mean there is absolutely no sense trying to turn people into something they are not. And in any case, Cass always says it’s important to feel comfortable in your clothes. Dress Em up like a model and she would just die of embarrassment.

“Are you sure?” she said. “I wouldn’t want Dad being ashamed of me! I—”

“Yes, yes, yes!” I hustled her back into her room. “Just get dressed … quickly. That was Dad’s car. They’re here!”







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We hurtled downstairs just in time to greet Dad and Caroline as they came through the door.

“Everything’s on!” I cried. I wanted to set Dad’s mind at rest – I knew how anxious he was. “It’s being cooked right now.”

“Whatever it is,” said Caroline, “it smells delicious.”

“It’s a pie,” I said. “Steak and kidney!”

“Ooh, yum! Exactly what one needs on a cold night.”

I beamed. “That’s what we thought.”

Dad said, “Jolly good! Steak and kidney, eh?”

“Well, you know … m—”

I was about to say mock steak and kidney, but I suddenly remembered that we were hoping Caroline would think it was chicken.

“Actually, I forgot,” I said. “It was going to be steak and kidney, but then at the last minute we changed it to chicken and mushroom.”

“Still sounds delicious,” said Caroline.

“It will be,” I promised. “Cass is a really good cook!”

“Yes. Well.” Dad sounded as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of everything. “Bitsy, could you take Caroline’s coat and hang it somewhere?”

I said, “Where?”

“In the – um – closet?” said Dad.

What closet? I didn’t know what a closet was! I didn’t think we had one. We usually draped coats and stuff over the banisters, but maybe Caroline wouldn’t like that.

“I’ll take it upstairs,” I said.

I cantered back up. When I came down I found Em hovering.

“We weren’t supposed to lie,” she hissed.

“’bout what?”

“The pie! Cass said … she didn’t think we ought to lie about it.”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Yes, you did, you said it was chicken and mushroom.”

“That’s all right. Soon as we’ve finished I’ll tell her the truth.” I giggled. “She won’t half be surprised!”

“She might be cross,” said Em. “I would be, like, if someone gave me meat and pretended it was something else.”

“That’s cos you’ve got principles,” I said. “People don’t have principles about eating vegetables.”

“All the same,” said Em.

Oh dear! Em is such a worrier.

We went into the sitting room to find Caroline holding out my sherry glass I’d so lovingly polished so that Dad could pour sherry into it. Hah! I knew it would come in useful.

“Do you think Cass would like any help in the kitchen?” she said.

Dad very quickly said, “No, no! And if she does the girls are here to give her a hand.”

He probably didn’t want Caroline seeing the mess the kitchen was in. We always make a mess when we cook. I reckon all the best chefs do.

“I’ll go,” said Em. She pulled a face at me as she left the room. She was going to tell Cass that I’d pretended we were having real chicken in the pie. I just knew she was. Well, so what? I bet when people eat in restaurants they’re given all sorts of stuff they don’t get told about.

I went over to the sofa to sit with Caroline.

“My,” she said, “that is a real miniskirt, isn’t it. What you might call a mini miniskirt!”

Dad looked at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen it.

“It is a bit on the short side,” he said. “Did Cass buy it for you?”

I said, “No, I bought it for myself. Lottie’s got one as well. I’ve had it for ages.”

“You presumably don’t go out in it?” said Caroline.

“I should hope not!” said Dad.

“I …” I hesitated, not quite sure what to say. Was there something wrong with going out in it? I was saved by Cass coming through from the kitchen.

She said, “Oh really, Donald! Don’t be such a prude. She always wears leggings with it, or thick tights.Absolutely nothing to get fussed about! Hello, Caroline. Good to see you again. Dinner won’t be long; just finishing it off.”

Dad, sounding puzzled, said, “If she’s had it all this time, why haven’t I seen it before?”

“Because you go round with your eyes closed,” said Cass. “I’m afraid, Caroline, this brother of mine is so wrapped up in the eighteenth century he really has no idea what’s going on in the real world.”

Caroline laughed. She said, “Tell me about it! Anyone who can reverse into somebody twice in just two minutes …”

I liked that she could laugh about Dad reversing into her. Not everybody would. She was obviously a very tolerant, good-natured sort of person. Not someone who would lose patience with Dad when he couldn’t find his front-door key or forgot to put petrol in the car, both of which had happened in the past week. I decided that Caroline was exactly what he needed!

I was glad, though, that Cass had spoken up in defence of my skirt. Just for a minute I had started to feel a bit self-conscious, thinking that maybe it was indecent or something. I knew it couldn’t be, or Lottie’s mum would never have let Lottie buy one. As mums go, she is quite strict. But I didn’t want Caroline to think badly of me. At school recently we’d been discussing role models and I’d decided that that’s what Caroline was – my role model. She was so smart, and so cool, and so … sophisticated! I really wanted to make a good impression on her.

Em stuck her head round the door and said, “Shall I start bringing things in?”

“I’ll help!” I went racing after her into the kitchen. “I suppose you went and told her?” I hissed.

“Told her what?”

“About me saying it was chicken and mushroom!”

“All I said,” said Em, “was are we supposed to be telling her the truth or not? OK? Here! Take the sprouts. And don’t go dropping them.”

“Oh, this looks very tasty,” said Caroline, as we all took our places. The pie sat steaming in its dish, the top all beautifully brown and crusty, with little pastry roses decorating it. Cass had gone to such a lot of trouble.

“I hope it meets with your approval,” she said, passing Caroline a plate. “I don’t want to mislead you … it’s not actually real chicken.”

“It’s not?” said Dad. He sounded a bit put out. “Bitsy? I thought you said it was!”

Em looked at me, rather hard.

“Just for once,” said Dad, “it might have been nice.” He turned apologetically to Caroline. “I’m afraid I live in a house full of mad veggies,” he said.

“You’re one too!” cried Em.

“Not through choice,” said Dad. “They bully me, you know. I have no say in the matter, I just have to eat what I’m given.”

“I’m sure it will still be delicious,” said Caroline.

I kept shooting little glances at her as she ate. I think she enjoyed it. At any rate, she cleared her plate. She didn’t come back for seconds, though. I did! But I am quite a greedy sort of person. You don’t get to be as slim as Caroline by gorging yourself.

Triumphantly, as Cass began to clear away the dishes, I said, “If you hadn’t been told it wasn’t chicken I bet you wouldn’t have known, would you?”

“Well … I think I probably would have done,” said Caroline, “but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t very lovely.”

“But how could you tell?” I said. “It looks like chicken.”

“I suppose it doesn’t quite … taste like it.”

“Chicken tastes of blood,” said Em.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Dad threw up his hands. “Do we have to?”

“I’m just saying,” said Em. “It’s full of stale blood.”

“Em!” Cass jerked her head. “Help me take the dishes out.”

I jumped up. “I’ll go and get the pudding!”

I was so proud of my possets. I carried them through triumphantly on a tray.

“Bitsy made these herself,” said Cass.

“Ah, the famous possets!” Dad rubbed his hands. “They always go down well.”

I said, “Yes, cos it’s real lemon and real sugar and real cream.”

“What else could it be?” said Em.

“Could be soya cream.”

“Oh! I never thought of that. Maybe next time—”

“No.” Dad snatched a couple of pots and handed one to Caroline. “Don’t go and ruin a good thing.”

“I just thought—”

“Not now,” said Cass. “Let Caroline enjoy her pudding.”

As soon as I started on my posset, Bella appeared. With one bound she was up beside me, nearly pulling the tablecloth off in the process.

“Good gracious,” said Caroline. “A cat on the table?”

Dad frowned. “Bitsy, put her down.”

“Dad!” Em looked at him reproachfully. “You know we don’t say that. She’ll think we’re taking her to the vet to be …”

“Murdered,” I said.

“Euthanised,” said Dad.

“It means the same thing!” Em was getting quite worked up. “Just don’t say it.”

Em is very protective where Bella is concerned. Well, with all animals, really. She is going to be a vet when she grows up.

Dad shook his head, like, What can you do? “Just put her on the floor,” he said. “We don’t have cats up here while we’re eating.”

I opened my mouth to object cos, I mean, Bella is used to joining us on the table no matter what Dad said, but Cass, sitting next to me, gave me a warning jab.

“Just do what your dad says.”

I set Bella on the ground. She immediately jumped back up again.

Dad said, “Bitsy …”

I said, “Yes, all right! She just wants a bit of posset.” I dug out a blob with my finger and gave it to her to lick. She purred appreciatively. “Lemon possets are one of her favourites,” I said. “She’d live on them if she could!”

Caroline said, “Really? It surely can’t be good for her.”

“It’s the cream,” I said. “Cats love cream.”

“But it’s so fattening! No wonder she has a bit of a tum.”

It was true, I suppose. Bella’s tummy does sometimes wobble slightly as she walks.

“She’s not fat,” I said earnestly. “It’s mostly fur. Feel!” I held Bellaout to her, but Dad intervened.

“I did tell you, Bitsy, to put her on the floor.”

“I’ll put her on the sofa,” I said. “She’ll be happy there. When we first had her,” I told Caroline, “we called her Belle o’ the Ball. Now Dad says she’s Bella the Ball! But she does have very thick fur.” I added this quickly before Em could give me another of her looks. Bella is mainly her cat and she won’t let anyone say anything bad about her.

“Well, now,” said Cass, “if everyone’s eaten enough I’ll go and put the coffee on. Bits, do you want to give me a hand?”

“Caroline hasn’t finished!” I said. She’d only eaten half her posset.

“No, no, I’m through.” Caroline pushed her plate away from her. “It was lovely, but I’m just too full up after all that pie.”

“I don’t think she liked it,” I whispered to Cass as we went through to the kitchen.

“Oh, she’s just worried about putting on a few extra kilos,” said Cass. “She’d probably have been far happier with a glass of water and a couple of grapes. Peeled.”

I gazed at Cass doubtfully, not sure whether she was being serious or just joking.

“Stop looking so woebegone!” Cass gave me a hug. “She’s a very figure-conscious lady … I bet she won’t take either milk or sugar in her coffee! Go and check with her.”

I skipped back into the sitting room to see Caroline lowering herself into one of the armchairs. As she did so, she gave a little squeak.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

Gingerly she slid her hand down the side and held something up.

“Oh!” I said. “My dividers! From my geometry set. I wondered where they’d gone.”

Dad, rather crossly, said, “For goodness’ sake, Bitsy! You really must be more careful. That could have caused a nasty accident.”

Embarrassed, I muttered that I was very sorry.

“Not to worry,” said Caroline. “No harm done. Tell me, as a matter of interest, why does everyone call you Bitsy when your name is Flora?”

Em said, “Hah!”

“You can tell her,” I said, “if you want.” She was obviously bursting to.

“OK! It’s cos once when she was little,” explained Em, “Dad asked Cass if we had any bitter chocolate. He said he really fancied some bitter chocolate. So Cass said we didn’t have any cos, like, nobody had ever asked for it before, so Flora goes toddling off and comes back all triumphant with two squares of Cadbury’s milk saying, ‘Look, Dad, bit o’ chocolate!’”

“And she’s been Bitsy ever since,” said Dad fondly.

“Well, it’s a sweet story,” said Caroline, “but I’m going to call her Flora. I think it’s a pity to have such a pretty name and not use it! Like Emily. That’s another pretty name.” She smiled at us. “Emily and Flora! How about it?”

“You can always try,” said Cass.

“I intend to!”

I wondered how I would feel about being called Flora after being Bitsy for so long. Everyone called me Bitsy! Well, not teachers, of course, but everyone in my class. Maybe if I was Flora I would have a bit more dignity, instead of just being a small round person that no one took any notice of.

After Dad had left to take Caroline home, we all sat round discussing how the evening had gone. Had it been a success? Sadly, we came to the conclusion that it hadn’t.

“I know she didn’t like her pudding,” I said. “Anyone that really enjoyed it would have gobbled up the whole pot. They wouldn’t be able to help it!”

Cass sighed and said she probably hadn’t enjoyed her mock pie, either. “It was a big mistake. I should have given her real meat.”

“But this is a meat-free zone,” said Em.

“But she was our guest!”

“I just don’t see how anyone could tell that it wasn’t real meat,” I said. “Not if they hadn’t been told.”

“Course, you know what really didn’t help?” said Em. “Someone going and leaving half their geometry set down the side of the chair. Imagine if she’d got stabbed in an artery!”

“Well, but she didn’t,” I said.

“She could have done.”

“Well, but she didn’t.”

“To think we spent all that time tidying up,” sighed Cass. “How did we manage to miss it? And then letting that cat jump on the table!”

Em immediately sprang to Bella’s defence. “You can’t blame Bella! She always jumps on the table.”

“You didn’t have to go and feed her.”

“I didn’t feed her!” Em sent me a venomous stare. “She did.”

“Well, she shouldn’t,” said Cass. “It’s not good for her. You heard what Caroline said … she’s getting fat.”

“She is not!” Em snatched Bella off the sofa and cradled her lovingly in her arms. “She’s just right!”

“I don’t care, she still shouldn’t be on the table. And we shouldn’t have to spend hours tidying up. The place should never be allowed to get in that state to begin with. What on earth must she think of us?”

We were all very crestfallen. Normally we’d have left the washing-up till morning, but for once, without even having to be asked, me and Em got started on it straight away, while Cass cleaned up the kitchen. After that, still rather subdued, we went to bed. Em was clutching Bella; I for some reason was clutching my geometry set. I was going to have nightmares now, thinking of Caroline being stabbed in an artery.

In fact I must have fallen asleep the minute my head touched the pillow and gone on sleeping all night, cos the next thing I knew, it was morning and Em was telling me to get up.

“Dad has something he wants to discuss with us … something important. About Caroline!”







(#ulink_859b606d-1c44-577a-95e6-7fe32957c6f9)


“I’ve had a word with Cass,” said Dad. “Now I need to have a word with you two.”

We both turned wonderingly to Cass in search of clues.

“It’s all right,” said Cass. “You don’t have to look so apprehensive! It’s actually something quite exciting. OK, I’m off to work; Becky’s expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you all later.”

Dad waited until Cass had gone, then very solemnly told us to sit down.

“This is important. I need your full attention.”

Something exciting, Cass had said. For one mad moment I had this fantasy that we had won the lottery and that Dad was going to ask us how we thought we should spend the money.

“OK! Right. Now! How would you feel,” said Dad, “about Caroline moving in?”

We gaped. I could feel my mouth dropping open.

“You mean, like … to live with us?”

“To live with us. Yes!”

“She wants to live here?” said Em.

“As part of the family.”

“You mean … she’s not cross with us?”

“Cross?” Dad seemed puzzled. “Why should she be cross?”

“About Bella jumping on the table?” I said.

“And nearly getting stabbed in an artery,” added Em.

“And not liking her dinner.”

“Oh, now, it wasn’t as bad as that,” said Dad. “It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, just that she’s not used to vegetarian food. We should have discussed it! I don’t think it would have hurt to bend the rules just this one time.”

Em opened her mouth to protest, but Dad rushed on. “As for the other things – well! They were just unfortunate. But no harm done, and of course she wasn’t cross! She’s not the sort of person who gets cross. If she were, she’d have been pretty cross with me reversing into her, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” said Em.

“At any rate,” said Dad, “it hasn’t put her off. It’s something we’ve been talking about for a while now. The people she’s renting her flat from want it back, so …” Dad giggled. He did! He giggled. I’d never seen him so happy and excited. “It seems like the ideal opportunity. What do you reckon?”

Em and I sat there at either end of the sofa, not sure what to say.

Em found her voice. “What does Cass think?”

“She’s fine with it,” said Dad. “But I’m more anxious to know how you feel.”

Earnestly Em said, “We just want you to be happy.”

“Yes, but I want you to be happy,” said Dad. “After all, we’re a family.”

“Will it mean you’re going to get married?” I said.

“That’s the plan! If all goes well. And I can’t see any reason …” Dad came over to sit between us on the sofa. He put an arm round each of us, pulling us close. “I can’t see any reason why it shouldn’t. We all seem to get along all right. Don’t we?”

We assured him that we did.

“Well, then!” Dad sat back, beaming. “Let’s give it a go, shall we, and see what happens?”

On Monday, at school, I told Lottie about Caroline coming to live with us. Lottie was all ears! She knew about Caroline. Me and Lottie always tell each other everything.

“So that’s it,” I said. “She’s moving in.”

Lottie’s eyes went big as dinner plates. “Living with you?”

“Cos the people that own her flat want it back. Well, and cos she and Dad think it’s a good idea.”

“Does that mean they’ll get married?”

“Prob’ly.”

Lottie said, “Cool! Then you can be a bridesmaid.”

“If all goes well,” I said.

Lottie gazed at me, head to one side, her nose sort of scrunched. It’s what she does when she’s trying to figure things out, like, Why shouldn’t things go well? She has this really tiny little blob of a nose like a lump of Play-Doh. It makes her look seriously silly!

“D’you want them to?”

“To get married?” I thought about it. Did I want them to? I did for Dad’s sake. It was just that it was a bit strange, after all this time, the thought of having a stepmum. Cos that’s what she would be! And then what about Cass? If Caroline was our stepmum, where would that leave Cass?

“Don’t you like her?” said Lottie.

“I do like her! She’s really nice. Like, she didn’t get mad when Dad reversed into her?” Or when she’d sat on my dividers. “Most people would have been absolutely furious.”

“My mum would have been,” said Lottie. “She nearly got road rage the other day just cos someone cut her up.”

“Well, this is it,” I said. “Dad needs someone that’ll put up with him. You know how hopeless he is.”

Lottie giggled. “Like that time he was going round with his glasses on top of his head, complaining he didn’t know where he’d put them? And that other time he took us to the shopping centre and forgot where he’d parked the car and we all had to walk round for ages looking for it?”

Lottie and I have been friends ever since Year Three. We were in Year Seven now. She knew Dad pretty well.

“So will you be happy,” said Lottie, “if they get married?”

I said, “Yes, cos Dad will be.”

“What about that other person?” said Lottie. “The one you used to think he’d marry.”

I said, “Polly.”

Polly was lovely! And she knew all about history, same as Dad. She was actually a bit likeDad, in some ways. Hugely clever, but not very practical. We’d had loads of fun with Polly! She’d even come with us on holiday once or twice. Cass always used to say that she and Dad were made for each other.

“What happened?” said Lottie. “Has he gone off her?”

“No! It’s just that he’s known her so long. She’s like an old slipper. Sort of … comfortable.” That was what Cass had said. She said the moment had come and gone. “And now he’s met Caroline and she’s just, like, really cool! Like a model or something? She even has these shoes that are by that designer man!”

“What designer man?”

“One that makes these really expensive shoes?” Not being into fashion I couldn’t immediately think what his name was, but Cass had been well impressed. “Must have cost a fortune,” she’d said.

“Sounds a bit posh for your dad,” said Lottie.

“She’s not posh,” I said. “Just super-cool!”

“H’m.” Lottie hooked her arm through mine as we wandered back into school at the end of break. “You know what’d be really neat? If your dad could marry my auntie!”

She’d said that before. I never quite liked to tell her that it wouldn’t work.

“My auntie’s cool,” urged Lottie.

“Yes,” I said, “I know.”

Lottie’s auntie is very small and fluffy and dresses like a teenager. She looks like a teenager. She is into dancing and karaoke, and going down the pub, which wouldn’t suit Dad at all. He is very much a stay-at-home-with-his-books sort of person. I don’t think Lottie’s aunties ever read books. Polly read loads! She and Dad were always lending books to each other and having these long discussions. Now he would be doing it with Caroline. At least, I supposed he would. I didn’t know what Dad and Caroline talked about when they were alone together.





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