Katy

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘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
id.

  I set to, stirring the icing again, getting it to exactly the right consistency, and then I let them all take a turn pouring and spreading the tops of the cakes, studding each with a walnut.

  ‘And now can we eat them?’ asked Dorry, holding a cake a centimetre from his mouth.

  ‘We’ll keep four,’ I said, separating them. ‘One for Phil, one for Mrs Hall, one for Dad and I suppose one for Izzie. But we can eat the rest.’

  So we started munching. The real cakes weren’t as elaborate as my imaginary ones, but they certainly tasted absolutely delicious.

  ‘Right – now bedtime!’ I said.

  ‘That’s not fair. I don’t have to go to bed at the same time as the littlies,’ Elsie protested.

  ‘We’re all going to bed,’ I said. I planned that Clover and Cecy and I would all tell more stories in bed in our room.

  I tried to encourage Dorry and Jonnie to get into their pyjamas and wash their sticky hands and faces and clean their teeth, I really did, but they were both overexcited, running round in their underwear and refusing point blank to clean their teeth because they wanted to keep the cake taste in their mouths.

  ‘They’re being very silly,’ said Elsie. ‘I shall tell Mum when she gets back.’

  ‘No, you won’t, you little tell-tale,’ I said. ‘Who cares if they sleep in their pants and don’t clean their teeth just this once?’

  I had to bribe them into bed though, by giving them half a cake each. Izzie wouldn’t mind too much if we didn’t save one for her. She was always on a stupid diet anyway.

  Clover lent Cecy her best pink pyjamas with little bluebirds flying up and down them. I’d have lent her mine, but they’d have been way too big for her. Then all three of us crammed into my bed and we started telling more stories, but Elsie kept trailing into our room, wanting to join in too.

  ‘Let me get in the bed as well!’ she said, pushing at us.

  ‘Elsie, don’t be mad. There’s no room!’ I said, but she wouldn’t listen.

  She shoved and pushed and wriggled and got into the bed somehow.

  ‘There!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Plenty of room!’

  We were all completely squashed, poor Cecy literally clinging to the edge of the bed to stay in it. Then Dorry came trailing in.

  ‘Katy, Katy! Jonnie’s crying again and she won’t stop,’ he said. ‘I think she’d feel better if you let her have another cake.’

  ‘Do you think I’m daft, Dorry?’ I asked, but I could hear sad little sniffles from the twins’ room and knew that she really was crying.

  ‘Come in here, Jonnie! I can’t come to you – I’m stuck in my bed with a hundred and one girls squashing me!’ I called.

  Jonnie came stumbling in, dragging Zebby with her.

  ‘Oh, darling, don’t cry! Look, Phil will be all right, I promise you. He’s just getting his finger made better,’ I said, praying this was true.

  ‘But now we’re all alone with no one to look after us!’ Jonnie wailed.

  ‘I’m looking after us,’ I said. ‘Look, you get out for a minute, Elsie, and let Jonnie come in my bed for a cuddle.’

  ‘And Zebby!’ said Jonnie.

  ‘I want a cuddle too!’ said Dorry.

  ‘Well, there’s not room for all of us, you sillies,’ I said. And then I had a marvellous idea. ‘Tell you what! Let’s all get into Dad and Izzie’s bed, then we’ll have heaps of room.’

  ‘Really? Are you allowed, Katy?’ asked Cecy.

  ‘No, she’s not!’ said Elsie. ‘Katy, you know you’re not! Mum wouldn’t like it one bit.’

  ‘I am too allowed! It’s not your mum’s bed, Elsie. It used to be my mum’s, and when Clover and I were little we were always climbing in for cuddles. Dad won’t mind in the slightest, I’m sure.’

  I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure at all, but it seemed a totally practical idea. If we were all in the big bed I could cuddle everyone and keep them all happy and be the most brilliant big sister. Then, when everyone got sleepy, I could carry each child back to their own bed and they’d be settled and fast asleep when Mrs Hall and Dad and Izzie got back. I’d smile at them wearily and they’d clap me on the back and say, ‘Well done, Katy. You’ve really saved the day. What would we have done without you!’

  So we all went into Dad and Izzie’s room. I put the light on so we could see what we were doing. Cecy had never been in their room before.

  ‘Oh goodness, it’s so pretty!’ she marvelled, going to the glass dressing table and gently fingering all the rose glass ornaments and Izzie’s silver hairbrush and her spray bottle of perfume.

  ‘It was much, much better when this was Mum’s room,’ I said. ‘Izzie’s spoilt it all. She’s made it too fancy and girly.’

  ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ said Elsie. ‘Mum lets me come in here sometimes when you lot aren’t around. She lets me try on her jewellery and she gives me a little squirt of her perfume and says I’m her special girl.’

  ‘Oh yuck,’ I said.

  ‘She does too. I’m allowed, but you lot aren’t.’ Elsie picked up the perfume bottle and sprayed herself liberally.

  ‘Mmm, that’s lovely. I want some too,’ said Clover.

  ‘No, you can’t. You’re not allowed,’ said Elsie.

  ‘Of course she’s allowed,’ I said. ‘Go on, Clover, spray away!’

  So Clover sprayed and then of course everyone else wanted to have a go, even Dorry.

  Elsie glared. ‘Well, I’m allowed to wear Mum’s lipstick and try on all her jewellery. You’re not!’ she said.

  So of course they all took Izzie’s make-up bag and experimented eagerly and raided her jewellery box and decked themselves with necklaces and bangles and rings. I didn’t want to put on any make-up because I hate that sort of stuff, but Cecy persuaded me and made me up very carefully.

  ‘Oh Katy, you look so grown up and glamorous!’ she said.

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish, Cecy,’ I said, but when I peered in Izzie’s mirror I couldn’t help being thrilled. The other kids had daubed lipstick here and eyeliner there and looked clownish, but Cecy had applied everything very delicately and I looked almost … pretty.

  ‘You look lovely, Katy!’ said Clover admiringly. ‘Practically grown up! Hey, why don’t you try on one of Izzie’s dresses and her high heels?’

  ‘No fear!’ I said, but all the others urged me to do just that. Except Elsie.

  ‘You mustn’t touch my mum’s clothes. If you do that, I’m telling!’ she threatened.

  So of course I had to do it then, just to show I didn’t give a fig about her threats. Cecy selected the mint green suit that Izzie wore when she went to posh shops to try and get them to stock her silly handbags, and Clover found Izzie’s highest heels, black and shiny and spiky. They were actually much too small for me, but I crammed my feet in anyway. I pulled the green suit on over my pyjamas, which made it look a bit lumpy, and the skirt didn’t look right with wrinkled pyjama legs sticking out underneath, but even so I looked dazzlingly different.

  ‘My goodness, Katy, you look at least sixteen!’ said Cecy.

  ‘No, eighteen!’ said Clover.

  I minced round the room pretending to be Izzie and everyone laughed and whistled at me. Except Elsie.

  ‘You take them off, you mean, nasty girl!’ she said, rushing at me.

  I dodged her easily, but twisted my ankle rather – and then there was a sudden snap. I looked down, my heart thudding. The black heel had broken right off.

  ‘There! Look what you’ve done! Oh, you wicked, wicked thing!’ Elsie cried.

  ‘I didn’t mean to. You shouldn’t have hurled yourself at me like that. It was just as much your fault,’ I said, taking the shoes off hastily and thrusting them right to the back of Izzie’s wardrobe. I hoped she wouldn’t find them for days and days. I took the green suit off too and tried to hang it up carefully. I saw a little of my lipstick had smeared the collar and I felt bad again. I squashed the suit right to the back of the wardro
be too, hoping Izzie might somehow forget about it.

  ‘Come on, you lot. Put all the jewellery back quick and let’s jump into bed,’ I said.

  Dad and Izzie didn’t have a sensible duvet like anyone else. Izzie had pale peach Egyptian cotton sheets, and a deeper peach satin counterpane she’d found in a vintage shop. Clover and Cecy exclaimed at it in wonder, but I rather hated its slippery feel. I jumped into bed and everyone tumbled in with me. Except Elsie.

  ‘Um, you’re going to be in so much trouble,’ she said. ‘Just wait till Mum gets back.’

  ‘We’ll make sure we’re back in our own beds by then,’ I said. ‘And Cecy’s mum will be ages at the hospital because you always have to wait hours in A & E. So shut up, Elsie. Push off, if you’re not coming into bed with us. And switch the light off.’

  Elsie did switch the light off and wandered away down the dark landing. But then she came scurrying back.

  ‘I heard a noise! I heard a noise downstairs! I think it’s burglars!’ she screamed.

  ‘Burglars!’ Dorry gasped. ‘They’ll steal the cakes!’

  ‘Shall we fight them?’ asked Jonnie.

  ‘No, hide under the covers!’ said Clover.

  ‘I want Mum to come back!’ said Cecy.

  ‘Shh, now! I don’t think it is burglars. Tyler would start barking if it was,’ I said.

  We all looked at Tyler. He wagged his tail, happy to have our undivided attention. For once I wished he was a much fiercer dog.

  ‘Here, Tyler,’ I said firmly. ‘Come with me. We’re going to look for burglars.’

  ‘Oh Katy, don’t!’ said Clover. Then she got out of bed herself. ‘All right, I’ll come too.’

  ‘And I will,’ said Cecy.

  ‘We’ll all come and we’ll all fight them and we’ll win,’ said Jonnie.

  So we crept slowly downstairs in a little gang, most of us holding hands. Tyler skittered along at our feet, still wagging his tail – but then he suddenly started barking at the kitchen door.