‘Mmm. Yes. Yes, you’ll look great,’ I said.
‘And what will you wear, Katy?’
‘I don’t know. My blue dress, I suppose. That’s certainly getting very short now!’
‘But you’ve had your blue dress ages. Don’t you want something new?’
‘I suppose,’ I said, though I actually hated going to buy anything new. I could never find anything I liked and it was so embarrassing going in the changing rooms because I was sure everyone was staring at me. And I had to go with Izzie and she always fussed so.
‘I don’t expect I can have a new dress because Dad says we’re a bit strapped for cash,’ I said, improvising. ‘Especially as I’ll have to have all the new uniform when we go to Springfield.’
Thank goodness Cecy and I were going to Springfield secondary school together. For a while Eva Jenkins boasted that she was going to Kingtown High, a private school for girls, but then she changed her mind. Maybe she didn’t pass the exam. But now she was coming to Springfield with all of us, worst luck. Ryan was coming too. I rather hoped we’d be in the same class. And it was a matter of desperate importance for Cecy and me to be in the same class of course.
I didn’t even mention the disco to the family, but Izzie brought it up one day at supper time (bubble and squeak and fried egg).
‘Only one more week of school,’ she said.
‘Hurray, hurray!’ said Jonnie and Dorry together. They were going through an infuriating phase when they tried to say exactly the same thing at the same time. It was very irritating and also a little unnerving, because we couldn’t work out exactly how they did it.
‘I’m going to school, I’m going to school, I’m going to school in September!’ said Philly. ‘I’m a big boy.’
‘Yes, you’re going to nursery and you’ll be a very big boy,’ said Izzie fondly.
‘Big boy, pig boy, oink, oink, oink,’ said Dorry and Jonnie.
‘That’s quite enough of that. One more word out of either of you and you’ll get down from the table and go without the rest of your supper,’ said Izzie.
That shut them up. Going without supper was Dorry’s worst punishment ever.
‘How do you feel about leaving school, Katy?’ Izzie asked.
‘She’s so lucky!’ said Elsie. ‘Mum, why can’t I be home-schooled?’
‘Oh, don’t start, darling, please,’ said Izzie. ‘You’re doing well at Newbury Road, I know you are. Your teacher says you’re one of the brightest girls.’
Clover and I kept quiet. We knew why Elsie didn’t like school. When Izzie married Dad and came to live with us Elsie had to swap schools. She came in the middle of a term, when all the other kids in her class had made friends. Elsie was the odd one out and she’d stayed that way. She didn’t seem to know how to make the other kids like her. We sometimes saw her trailing round the playground by herself.
I felt my tummy clench at the thought, feeling sorry for my little sister even though I mostly couldn’t stand her. I resolved once again to try to be kinder to Elsie. Perhaps Cecy and Clover and I might let her join in our playground games after all. I could even make up a game specially for Elsie. It would be easy enough to think of something silly and little-girly …
‘Katy! I asked you a question,’ said Izzie. ‘How do you feel about leaving Newbury Road?’
I shrugged. I didn’t really like discussing my feelings with Izzie. I didn’t know how I really felt anyway. I was looking forward to being at Springfield (though a teeny bit apprehensive too). I didn’t exactly love Newbury Road Primary School. I’d been in quite a lot of trouble there over the years, and been sent to Mrs Henry the head in disgrace more than once. But I’d got so used to it too. I was even a little sad at the thought of saying goodbye to Mr Robinson, though he could be dead sarcastic at times and often told me off.
‘Are all you Year Six pupils having some sort of leaving party or prom?’ Izzie persisted.
‘She’s going to a prom over my dead body,’ Dad said.
‘Relax, Dad. You and Mr Robinson could be soulmates,’ I said. ‘He hates the whole prom idea too. It’s a disco on the Friday night. No fuss.’
‘I wish I could go too,’ said Clover. ‘Can’t you take me as your partner, Katy?’
‘Mr Robinson says we’re not going with partners; we’re just all going to mix together and have fun. Well, that’s his plan. Everyone’s pairing up anyway,’ I said.
‘And are you in a pair?’ Izzie asked.
‘No! I don’t want to go with any of those manky boys,’ I said quickly. I had rather hoped Ryan might ask me, even though we’d look ridiculous dancing together, with me so much taller than him. But Eva Jenkins had nabbed him for herself already. I certainly wasn’t going to act like I cared.
‘What are you planning to wear, Katy?’ Izzie persisted.
‘I don’t know. My blue dress. Whatever,’ I said. ‘Can we change the subject, please? I don’t know why everyone seems so fascinated by this whole lame disco idea. I don’t care a jot about it.’
‘I bet Cecy does. Isn’t she going to have a new dress?’ said Izzie.
‘Yes, but she knows I’m not. I said we couldn’t afford it because there are so many of us,’ I said.
‘Katy!’ Izzie sounded outraged.
Dad choked on a forkful of bubble and squeak because he was laughing so much.
‘How could you!’ said Izzie.
‘But it’s true. Whenever I ask for an Xbox or a new bike or anything you always say we can’t afford it, and that six children can’t expect to have the same as a child in a small family. You say that!’ I said.
‘You do sometimes say that,’ Clover agreed.
‘We used to be a very small family, just Mum and me, and sometimes – lots of times – I wish we still were,’ Elsie said.
‘We’re a small family of two: Jonnie and Dorry, Donnie and Jorry!’ Jonnie and Dorry said, spluttering.
‘I’m the youngest so I’m the best!’ said Phil, banging his knife and fork on his plate.
‘Stop it, Phil! You’re all the best!’ said Dad. ‘And money is tight, I agree, but I still think we’ve got enough in the coffers to buy Katy a dress for this silly old disco. You look beautiful in your blue dress, Katy, a positive rhapsody, but perhaps it’s time to branch out in another colour. You’ve got a rainbow choice – red, orange, yellow, green …’
‘Red! I want red! Oh please! Can I have a red dress?’ I said.
‘I don’t think red’s a very suitable colour for a young girl,’ said Izzie, but she didn’t argue any further.
We went looking for the dress after school on Thursday late-night shopping, just Izzie and me. It was strange being alone with her. It must have been so odd being Elsie, without anyone to play with for so long. I wished Clover had come along for the shopping expedition too.
Izzie led us to the Flowerfields shopping centre. She tried a fancy girls’ shop first, just in case they had anything in a very large size. They had all kinds of sugary party dresses with great frothing skirts, but none remotely long enough. So then we went into a boutique for adults because they had all sorts of sparkly meringue dresses in the window bedecked in pink streamers, with a notice in gold wavery writing saying GIRLS! FIND YOUR PERFECT PROM DRESS HERE!
We went inside and Izzie asked if they had anything less ornate, and they brought out several slinky, silky numbers. They weren’t red, but I rather liked them because they might just make me look grown up rather than simply overgrown.
‘No, no, they’re far too sophisticated!’ said Izzie, horrified. ‘She’s only eleven years old!’
Then all the dinky little shop assistants tutted and twittered while I went bright red and felt like a freak. Izzie had a peer at the price tag on the least slinky dress and looked appalled.
She pulled us out of the shop and we went round and round the entire centre looking for a suitable dress. We couldn’t find one anywhere.
‘What are we going to do?’ Izzie asked wretched
ly, taking off one shoe and rubbing her sore toes on the back of her calf. She’d worn her highest heels and was bitterly regretting it. ‘We’ve got nowhere! And you’re going to need new shoes too. You can’t wear your filthy shabby trainers or your school shoes with a dressy dress.’
‘I won’t have to, because I haven’t got a dressy dress, have I?’ I said. ‘I’ll wear my blue dress and I’ll whiten my trainers specially, OK?’
‘Oh Katy, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you! I’ve tried so hard to be a good mother figure to you –’
‘Well, don’t try. Because you’re not my mother and you never will be!’ I said, and I stormed off. I ran right down the escalators, desperate to get out of the wretched place. I felt as if I were choking. If only I had my own mum back. She wouldn’t drag me round stupid shops and make me feel dreadful. She wouldn’t care what I wore. We’d have such fun together …
I leaned against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears spilling.
‘Katy?’ Izzie said, sounding out of breath. She must have run hard in her high heels to catch up with me.
I thought she might be cross, but she just squeezed my hand and said, ‘Come on, let’s go and have a drink.’
She had a latte and I had a mango and strawberry ice-cream soda, my absolute favourite. It was very soothing.
‘You’ve got froth all round your lips,’ said Izzie. ‘OK, let’s stop looking for party dresses. Let’s go for something more casual. We’ll try a couple more shops and then if we don’t find anything we’ll give up and go home. Deal?’
‘Deal,’ I said.
We went to TK Maxx and spotted a bright red flared skirt that I loved on sight. It came right up above my knees but still looked OK. I twirled round in it happily.
‘We’d better buy you a pair of red pants too, just so you match,’ said Izzie.
Then we went to Primark. I wanted a new T-shirt to go with the scarlet skirt, though Izzie suggested a blouse would look much better. We compromised on a T-shirt shaped blouse, black and sparkly.
‘It’s maybe a bit too sophisticated for you, Katy,’ Izzie said doubtfully.
‘But it will look good under the disco lights,’ I said, remembering Cecy.
‘Yes, it will,’ said Izzie, surprisingly. ‘All right. You can have your sparkly T-shirt. And I’ve had an idea about shoes. Come and look.’
She found a pair of basic black tennis-type shoes sewn with black sequins.
‘There! Now you’ll sparkle all over!’ she said.
‘Do you really think I’ll look OK?’ I asked.
‘You’ll look fantastic,’ said Izzie.
She probably didn’t mean it. But it made me feel good all the same. And when I dressed up in my new clothes on Friday evening I felt I truly didn’t look too bad.
Of course I wasn’t a patch on Cecy. She was wearing her own new outfit, a short shift dress with pink sequin flowers. She had white tights and new white shoes with kitten heels. They made her walk a little stiffly, like a clockwork soldier, but she still looked beautiful. She seemed especially pink and pretty – and then when I looked closer I saw why.
‘You’re wearing make-up!’ I said.
‘Only a little. A bit of foundation so I don’t look too shiny, and pink lipstick. I’ve got it in my bag. Do you want to put some on?’
‘Better not. I’ll probably smear it all over my face.’
‘Oh Katy, I’m ever so nervous, aren’t you?’ said Cecy.
‘No, of course not!’ I lied. ‘It’s only a stupid school disco with all our friends. And our deadly enemies! OK, what do you think Eva Jenkins is going to wear? A bikini top and the weeniest shorts and enormous high heels? All designer, naturally.’
We blinked hard when we saw Eva. She was wearing a hyacinth-blue dress, very showy with lace and frills. She wore silver strappy shoes with proper heels and she had silvery glitter on her eyelids. Her hair was the most extraordinary part – she’d obviously been to the hairdresser’s because it was sculpted into a huge mound on top of her head, with little ringlet twirls hanging down in front of her ears.
‘OMG,’ said Cecy.
‘She looks like one of those American beauty pageant kids,’ I said. I affected a totter and an American accent: ‘Hi, you folks! I’m little Eva, and I’m soooo cute.’
It wasn’t really funny but Cecy and I fell about laughing, which made us feel a lot better. It was strange going into the school hall and seeing it lit up with fairy lights, streamers dangling everywhere, and a big scarlet sash suspended above the stage saying GOODBYE AND GOOD LUCK, YEAR SIX! There was a proper DJ deck on the stage, and there was Mr Robinson, hilariously dressed up as a 1980s DJ himself, in a mad blond wig almost as bouffant as Eva’s hair and a royal-blue sparkly suit with huge shoulders and rolled-up cuffs.
‘You look amazing, Mr Robinson!’ I said.
‘So do you, girls,’ he said, waving at us. ‘Help yourself to cocktails and then when you’ve fortified yourselves I hope you’ll grace the dance floor.’
Mrs Henry was serving the cocktails.
‘Would you like a lemon sling or a yum punch?’ she said, wielding a ladle in both enormous bowls.
One was lemonade with slices of baby oranges and glacé cherries, and the other was cola with cherries – both delicious.
‘I’m going to make these cocktails for when we go to the secret garden tomorrow,’ I said.
‘You’ll wait for me this time?’ said Cecy.
‘I will glue my bottom to the garage roof until you’re done dancing,’ I promised.
Cecy’s dancing skills were wonderfully apparent at the disco. She was better than anyone else – way better than Eva. Even though lots of the girls and boys had come in pairs, everyone mostly danced in a great gang, which was much more fun. I felt a bit silly at first, wondering if I was shaking my arms and legs about in a mad way, but soon I got so caught up in the music I jumped about wildly and didn’t care what I looked like.
The boys were mostly pretty useless dancers, but Ryan proved spectacular, ultra athletic and rhythmic. Several times everyone else stopped dancing to watch him, and then clapped spontaneously at the end of the song. Eva Jenkins smirked and sulked alternately, pleased that everyone was admiring her partner and irritated that he was grabbing all the attention.
Every now and then there was a slower, quieter dance and a few boy–girl couples ambled round the floor together self-consciously. Eva insisted on dancing with Ryan then, even once daringly putting her head on Ryan’s shoulder.
‘No smooching!’ Mr Robinson called. ‘Only Mrs Henry and I are allowed to dance cheek to cheek!’
They did actually have one very staid dance together, while we all wolf-whistled. Two boys in our class, called Keith and Alexander, came up to Cecy and me while we were dancing and started cavorting alongside us, so that we were sort of dancing together. I didn’t mind too much because Keith’s very tall, so we didn’t look too ridiculous. It was fine while we were dancing, but in between dances Keith just muttered boring stuff about the bands he liked and where exactly each song had come in the singles chart. I nodded and smiled every now and then without bothering to listen.
The music got a bit wilder as the evening wore on. Mr Robinson played ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ very loud, and everyone did the headbanging bit in the middle, which was fun, though we ended up feeling pretty spaced out and dizzy.
‘I’m drunk,’ said Ryan, staggering about.
‘Stop acting stupid,’ Eva said snippily. She was irritated because her elaborate hair had started to unravel after she’d tossed her head around to the music. She had to go to the cloakroom with a little gang of girls to try to pin it back into place.
‘You come and have a dance with me, Katy,’ said Ryan, taking hold of my hand.
‘No, we’d look daft together,’ I said.
‘Who cares? Go on, I dare you,’ said Ryan.
‘You’re Eva’s partner, aren’t you?’ I said.
‘Yeah, but she doesn’t own me,’ said Ryan. ‘Come on.’
Mr Robinson started playing some old rock and roll number, the music making you want to jump around.
So I got up and started doing a mad jive with Ryan. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but he was very good at swinging me round and pushing me into the right place. I felt dreadful for the first minute, scared everyone would stare at us and laugh, and I stumbled a bit and dithered on the wrong foot – but then the music got to me and my feet took over. I stopped caring about everything else and waved an arm and kicked a leg and whirled about, my new red skirt flaring out and my black sequins dazzling. Ryan grinned at me and I grinned back and wanted the music to go on forever and ever.
‘That was great! I like the way you dance,’ Ryan said, when the song stopped at last.
‘I’m rubbish really. But you’re good – very good,’ I said.
‘I’m really thirsty now. Let’s go and get a drink,’ said Ryan.
I peered round. No sign of Eva yet, thank goodness. And Cecy looked happy with Keith and Alexander. So I shrugged and nodded.
‘You two are very good dancers,’ said Mrs Henry, as she gave us our cocktails.
‘Thanks, Mrs Henry. We are,’ said Ryan. ‘Come on, Katy.’
We went and leaned against the wall, sucking noisily with our straws. We both kept glancing at the door, watching for Eva coming back.
‘I wish I was here with you,’ Ryan muttered, not quite looking at me. ‘You’re much more fun, Katy.’
I think that’s what he said. I couldn’t hear exactly because the music was still so loud. It seemed impossible to ask him to repeat it. We stood there, nodding at each other every now and then.
‘It’s weird leaving school, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Springfield, here we come. Still, we’ve got the whole summer first. You going away anywhere, Katy?’
‘Not till the end of August. We’re going to this cottage in Wales, as usual. It’s OK. Well, a bit boring. Nothing much to do.’ I said this because I felt shy of telling him how much I loved waking up to the sound of the sea through my open window. I’d often get up before all the others, shove on a T-shirt and shorts, and then run barefoot along the beach, the very first person to put footprints on the sand that day. I loved swimming in the sea later, though it was always so freezing cold; I loved making sandcastles for the littlies; I loved ice cream every day and sometimes fish and chips out of the packet for supper; I loved looking up at the stars at night and imagining tiny, alien Katys looking back and waving.
Katy Page 12
