- Home
- Candy Harper
The Strawberry Sisters Page 4
The Strawberry Sisters Read online
Page 4
Mr O’Brien is one of those surprised-by-the-bell ones. When the bell went, his head snapped up and he said, ‘Remember to listen out for examples of the twelve-bar blues!’ and started hurling tambourines back on their hooks in the cupboard. Half the class were on their feet before he turned round and saw that the tables were covered in singing books.
‘Who’s going to be really kind and put away the books?’ he asked.
If you’re not being nice, you can pretend you haven’t heard a teacher saying something like that because putting away your pencil case is making too much noise. But I was being nice so I raised my hand.
‘Thank you, Ella.’ With that, Mr O’Brien scooted out of the door and almost everyone else followed him.
‘I’ll help you,’ Kayleigh said.
‘No, I’ll help you,’ Ashandra said and she gave Kayleigh a glare like we’d never laughed about her choir leader getting a jingly bit up his nose at all.
I didn’t want them to glare at each other.
‘Why don’t you two just go to lunch?’ I said quickly.
‘Are you sure?’ Kay asked.
I nodded.
I thought they’d go off to queue up together and save me a seat, but when they went out of the door I could see through the window that Ashandra ran to catch up with a girl called Erica and Kayleigh didn’t bother to follow.
Then I realised that not only were there books all over the tables, they were all over the floor too.
The bright side about getting to the cafeteria when all the ham sandwiches have already gone is that soggy salad ones are 10p cheaper.
After lunch, Ashandra walked to geography with Erica and when they sat down together I didn’t even try to get a table for me and Kayleigh behind them. But, as we walked in, Kayleigh noticed me watching Ashandra laughing with Erica.
‘I don’t know why you like her so much,’ Kayleigh said, dropping her geography book on the table. ‘She’s so lah-di-dah.’
I stared at Kayleigh. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘You know, she’s got a lah-di-dah voice and I bet she lives in a big house.’
‘Why does it matter how big her house is?’
‘It doesn’t. But she’s always using long words and she said, “I can’t believe you’ve got your ears pierced!”’
‘Maybe it was in a wow-you’re-so-lucky-I-can’t-believe-it way,’ I said, trying to squish the funny feeling in my tummy.
‘It wasn’t. She told me her mum says she doesn’t understand why girls mutilate themselves like that.’
‘Ash’s mum says millions of things. She just wants girls to be equal to boys.’
‘I can wear earrings and be equal to boys,’ Kayleigh said and rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, half of them have got earrings too.’
‘I suppose so. Listen, if you get to know Ash, I think you’ll really like her. She’s dead funny. She was funny in music this morning, wasn’t she?’
Kayleigh shrugged.
‘Hey, sometimes me and Ashandra make funny videos on her phone. Shall we ask her if she wants to do one after school?’ I had been looking forward to seeing my dad, but I really wanted Ash and Kay to spend time together.
Kayleigh shook her head. ‘I said I’d help my mum at the stables.’
I was trying so hard to be nice and make sacrifices to bring them together, but it didn’t seem to be working. I was starting to think that maybe Mrs Bottomley was right and ‘nice’ didn’t really mean anything much at all.
When the bell went at the end of the day, I walked back to my dad’s house with Ashandra.
‘What do you think of school so far?’ I asked.
‘It’s pretty good. I like moving round to different lessons; it’s better than being with one teacher all day.’
‘I like Miss Espinoza too,’ I said.
‘She’s nice. And I like Mr Garibaldi and Mrs Holt is a really good teacher. The lessons are more interesting than primary school, aren’t they?’ She smiled.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ I didn’t smile.
‘Ella! Stop pretending you’re not super smart. You don’t need to worry about schoolwork.’
‘I’m not worrying,’ I said. ‘I mean, I think maybe Mrs Holt thought that thing I said about book blurbs was silly.’
‘Mrs Holt can see that you’re clever and nice. All the teachers think that, except maybe the scary ones, because when you try to answer their questions you go really quiet and they can’t actually hear that you’re giving them the right answer. You just look like this to them.’ She opened and shut her mouth like a bashful goldfish.
‘Hey!’
‘It’s all right. You look very intelligent while you’re doing it so they probably give you the benefit of the doubt.’
I couldn’t help laughing.
Ash grinned. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get used to all the new teachers and we’ve got loads of cool stuff coming up. That author project is going to be fun.’
I’m not crazy about doing projects, but I was pleased that Mrs Holt said we could choose our own groups. Most teachers like to tell you who to be with in a group. I think they think you can’t be happy and do work at the same time so they put you in a horrible group so you just work and work because you don’t want to speak to people who don’t like you.
‘I guess so,’ I said. ‘Which author shall we do for our project?’
Ash looked away. ‘Um . . . I haven’t really decided yet.’
‘We should probably wait till tomorrow to talk about it anyway so we can ask Kayleigh who she wants to do.’
‘Maybe.’
It was the kind of ‘maybe’ that Mum says when Lucy asks if she can have a power drill for her birthday.
‘Don’t you want to work with us?’ I asked.
Ashandra twisted the strap of her bag. ‘I don’t know. I think people are more efficient when they work in pairs. And you know how much I love being efficient – nearly as much I love telling people the best way to be efficient.’
‘Oh.’ I tried not to look upset. It was time to try being nice again. ‘Well, it’s OK if you and Kayleigh work together.’
‘Actually, I’ve sort of already asked Erica to work with me.’
I couldn’t see how we were all going to be best friends if Ashandra and Kayleigh didn’t even spend any time together, but I didn’t say anything.
When Amelia let me into Dad’s house, she looked unusually cheerful. ‘Lucy’s arguing with the Ice Queen,’ she grinned.
My stomach clenched. I’m not keen on arguments and I would never dare argue with Suvi; she’s got quite a stern face.
Amelia disappeared upstairs, probably to text Mum about the fight, and I hovered in the doorway to the kitchen. Lucy was staring at Suvi with her hands on her hips. ‘But why don’t you have a TV?’ she asked.
Lucy starts this argument almost every time we go to Dad’s. I don’t know why she won’t let it go.
Suvi was very calmly slicing leeks. I think it’s her calmness that scares me a bit. Everybody in our family gets very worked up about arguments. But Suvi just stays the same. Amelia says it’s because she has no real emotions.
Baby Kirsti was in a basket on legs looking at the ceiling. Chloe was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a packet of crisps and watching the argument instead of the television. I don’t know where she got the crisps. The only snack that Suvi has ever given me is rice cakes. It’s like eating polystyrene.
Suvi dropped the chopped leeks in a saucepan. ‘Television is not good for your imagination,’ she said.
Lucy widened her eyes. ‘Haven’t you ever watched any TV? It’s full of imagination.’
‘I think that it is better for you to use your own imagination.’
Lucy flopped her head about. ‘I already had to use my imagination all day at school because there’s no TV there either.’
‘I’m surprised that your mother approves. She’s an educator, yes? There is research that shows television has a negative influence on ch
ildren’s mood and concentration.’
TV isn’t the only difference between our house and Dad’s. At home it’s not just the Pit that is crammed full of things. Everywhere you look there’s stuff; plates in the sink, dirty clothes spilling out of the laundry bin, Lucy’s toys on the floor. We haven’t even got enough shelves for all our books so there’s a giant wobbly structure in the corner of the sitting room called Book Mountain.
Dad’s house is more . . . empty. There are big bits of white space everywhere. Some of their shelves have only got one vase on. The walls are white and the chairs and sofas and other furniture are white too, or grey or beige. Dad says it’s calming. Chloe says it’s boring. Amelia says it’s pretentious, which is when you have silly stuff because you think it makes you look good. But actually I think Suvi really likes it. She prefers things to be simple. I’ve never seen her wear anything spotty or flowery.
Suvi started telling Lucy about the percentage of children who do horrible things after they’ve been watching TV. I sat down at the table next to Chloe.
‘How was your day?’ I asked.
‘Stupid. Some of the girls in my class have started wearing that black stuff on their eyes like Amelia.’
‘Oh.’
‘I mean, if I wanted to dress up like a vampire, I might draw black circles round my eyes, but I don’t know why they think it makes them look cool.’
‘Me neither.’
‘They reckon it will make the boys want to kiss them.’
‘Does it?’
Chloe screwed up her face. ‘Dunno. Why would you want a gross boy to kiss you anyway? They’re all stupid.’
I nodded. ‘Where’s Dad?’
Our dad is supposed to finish early on Wednesdays so that he can get home to spend time with us, but often he gets tied up with writing reports and other important things.
‘He rang,’ Chloe said. ‘He said he’s r—’
‘Running late,’ I finished.
‘Yep. But he’ll be back by five and he said he’ll take us to the cinema to see that film we’ve been pestering him about.’
I love the cinema. Sitting in the dark with lots of people and the bigness of the screen and the loudness of the loud bits makes the whole film more intense.
Chloe and me watched Lucy and Suvi saying the same things that they always say when they argue about TV, then I did my history homework. When it was ten to five, I looked at Suvi. Even though I’d known her for over a year, I still hadn’t quite got used to her. I expected her to tell us it was time to get ready, but Suvi doesn’t really do that sort of thing.
‘Lucy,’ I said, trying to take charge. ‘You need to put your shoes on.’
‘I don’t like those shoes.’
‘But you’ve got to wear shoes so we can go to the cinema.’
Lucy squeezed her eyes half shut and glowered at me. I hate it when she does that.
‘Ah,’ said Chloe. ‘Lucy’s giving you the evil eye!’
‘I’m just trying to help you get ready,’ I said to Lucy. ‘And you’d better go to the loo before we leave.’
Lucy’s eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Oh, she’s good!’ Chloe said. ‘I’ve taught her well.’
Obviously, Chloe wasn’t going to be any help. ‘Suvi, Lucy won’t go to the loo,’ I said.
‘So?’
‘Can you make her?’
‘I cannot make her.’
Lucy stopped evil-eyeing me and smiled.
I turned back to Suvi. ‘But what if she needs to go in the middle of the film?’
‘Then she will miss some.’
Lucy doesn’t like missing things. ‘What if she just wets herself in the cinema?’
‘Then I think people will say, “Look at that little girl. She has peed.”’
Lucy’s scowl came back, but I noticed that, when Suvi went to check on her saucepan, Lucy crept upstairs to the bathroom.
At twenty past five, we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.
A few moments later, he opened the front door and called, ‘I’m here! Don’t panic. Everybody ready?’
Chloe gave him a bear hug and started telling him about how many goals she’d scored in netball.
‘Lucy still hasn’t put on her shoes,’ I told him.
‘Lucy, put your shoes on. We’re going to miss the beginning if we don’t leave now.’
‘I can’t. I haven’t got any socks on.’
‘Where are your socks?’
‘Chloe’s wearing them.’
‘Is that right, Clo?’
‘They were clean. Well, cleanish. My ones were all muddy.’
‘What’s Lucy supposed to wear?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not Lucy.’
‘Showing your usual consideration for others,’ Amelia said to Chloe, pushing past her to grab her own shoes.
‘Take these.’ Suvi handed Lucy a balled-up pair of socks.
‘Are those baby socks? Because I’m not a baby. I’m seven. I can swim twenty-five metres.’
‘They’re your socks; you left them last time you were here.’
Lucy put on the socks and shoes and we scrambled out of the door.
‘What time does it start?’ Dad asked.
‘Three and a half minutes ago,’ Amelia said. She sounded a little bit pleased.
‘Can we get there in time?’ Lucy asked.
‘Not without a time machine,’ Dad said.
‘How long does it take to drive there?’ Chloe asked.
‘Ten minutes.’
‘If you drive really fast, you can get there three and a half minutes ago, can’t you, Dad?’
‘I’ll see what I can do, Lucy.’ He pulled open the back door of the car. ‘Oh . . .’
‘Poo,’ Chloe said.
‘Don’t say poo,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re not supposed to say poo. Why is poo a bad word, Daddy? Is it because poo stinks? Is it? And poo is disgusting?’
‘Stop saying poo, Lucy,’ I said.
Dad was staring at Kirsti’s car seat which was taking up a whole person-sized space in the back seat.
‘Doesn’t that come out?’ Amelia asked.
‘The base is screwed in. It’ll take a while for me to get it undone.’ There was only room for four people in the car and there were five of us including Dad.
‘Could Lucy sit in it?’ Chloe asked.
Lucy’s eyes blazed. ‘I—’
Dad put his hand over her mouth before she could start lecturing us about how seven-year-olds are practically grown up and don’t sit in baby car seats.
‘She needs to sit on her own booster seat anyway,’ Dad said.
‘We’re missing all the trailers,’ Chloe whined.
‘I could stay here,’ I said quietly. But it doesn’t count as being nice if no one can hear you so I said it a bit louder.
‘Really, Ella?’ Dad asked.
Amelia was already getting into the car.
‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ Chloe asked.
‘That’s OK,’ I said. I did want her to stay, but we’d seen the trailer for the film and there were lots of people walking into things and one bit where someone jumped out of a car as it fell off a bridge. Those are things that Chloe really likes in a film.
They all got into the car and I watched them drive away. It seemed pretty unfair that Kirsti was taking my place, even though she wasn’t actually in the car. But it’s not very bright side-ish to think mean things about a baby so I stopped staring at where the car had been and went back into the house.
Suvi was breastfeeding Kirsti. When I told her what had happened, she said, ‘Do you want me to drive you? Kirsti has just started, but when she is finished I can take you.’
Suvi had already explained to us that Kirsti’s feeds weren’t in a pattern yet and sometimes she feeds for ages.
‘No. It’s OK,’ I said.
‘It was kind of you to let your sisters go,’ she said.
Which was nice because none of the people
I was being kind to seemed to have noticed.
‘I’ve just made a pot of peppermint tea; do you want to get yourself some?’ she asked.
I didn’t, but I went to the kitchen and poured a cup anyway.
I’d never really spent any time alone with Suvi. I wished it was Dad I was with because I didn’t often get to talk to him alone. I slurped my tea for something to do. It wasn’t very tea-ish. Or even very pepperminty. We used to make potions out of leaves in the back garden and once Chloe persuaded me to drink a mouthful, even though I was afraid we’d poison ourselves. The peppermint tea tasted a bit like the leaf potion.
I wondered if they’d missed much of the film.
‘At least Lucy won’t need to pee,’ I said.
Suvi nodded. ‘Lucy does not like to be told what to do, yes?’
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucy follow an instruction, but it didn’t seem right to be talking about her like that with Suvi so I just said, ‘I think she finds it difficult, you know, being at home and then being here.’
‘Of course. Change is unsettling.’
I nodded. ‘I guess she thought . . . we thought that we knew about our family and then it’s a bit of a surprise when you suddenly get an extra person.’ Kirsti flailed a tiny arm. ‘Two extra people.’
There was a pause.
‘Yes, I can see that having extra people is hard,’ Suvi said.
I was watching her face carefully because when someone is feeding a baby it seems rude to look at their boob. I had always thought that Suvi had a face with no feelings in it and a voice that was serious all the time. But, when I looked at her, there was a bit of a joke in her eyes. I wasn’t sure what the joke was to start with, but then I realised that she had suddenly got four more people in her family. And one of them was Lucy. And another was Amelia. I felt bad for Suvi because I’d never even wondered what it felt like to suddenly have four stepchildren.