The Honeymoon Sisters

by Gwyneth Rees

  I didn’t respond. I knew she was trying to wind me up and I was determined not to let her.

  Her phone beeped and she paused to check who it was. I couldn’t help seeing her screensaver – a photo of her with her arm around another girl, both of them pulling silly faces at the camera. Sadie was smiling as she read her text. ‘It’s Alison. Telling me to keep my chin up!’

  My curiosity got the better of me. ‘Is that her?’ I pointed to the picture on her phone.

  ‘Yeah,’ she grunted.

  She swiftly sent a text back before following me the rest of the way upstairs.

  ‘Nice room,’ she commented when I opened the door to Amy’s bedroom … the spare bedroom now. She took in the pictures on the walls and the toys and books on the shelves and said, ‘You usually take in much younger kids, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said coolly.

  ‘Oh well, no matter. Your mum’ll just have to change the decor.’ She flung down her bag and sat on the bed, bouncing on it like she was testing out the mattress. ‘Not bad,’ she declared with a grin. ‘I’ll give it an eight out of ten. Have to take off a couple marks if lots of little kids have been sleeping here. It’s bound to have been peed on loads of times, right?’

  I felt my face going warm. ‘We always have a waterproof cover on the mattress. It’s probably still there.’

  ‘That’ll have to come off. They make you sweaty, plus I don’t wee in the bed.’

  ‘That’s good to know,’ I snapped.

  ‘Oooh!’ She let out a little laugh. ‘Sarcastic, eh? You know what, Poppy? I’ve got a feeling you’re not nearly as angelic as you make out.’

  I shook my head at her. ‘I just can’t believe you’re my cousin.’

  ‘Ditto. My mates are going to have a hard time believing I’m related to such a dork.’

  ‘You mean those kids you were with after school yesterday?’ I had to admit I was curious about them. ‘Hey, this “incident” last night that got you kicked out of your last place? Were they the ones involved?’

  She touched the side of her nose to warn me to mind my own business. ‘Maybe I’ll introduce you sometime, now that we’re going to be sisters.’

  ‘We are not!’ I protested. ‘You’re only here on a short-term basis.’

  ‘Is that what your mum told you?’ Her eyes were sparkling wickedly. ‘Funny …’

  And she stood up and backed me out of her room, shutting the door firmly in my face before I could ask her what she meant.

  Chapter Nine

  After Sadie had been with us for a few days I started to get a really bad feeling about this whole arrangement. We’d done some emergency foster care before and it had usually been a matter of days before a new placement was being discussed. Even if one hadn’t been available immediately, the social worker had been in touch a lot and there had been a very temporary feeling about the whole thing.

  But it didn’t feel like that with Sadie. Yes, a social worker had phoned, and Lenny had been round to talk to Mum, but nobody seemed in any great hurry to find Sadie somewhere else to go. The suitability of our home as an emergency placement had already been established as far as I could work out. So why was Mum planning dates for future social work visits and talking with Lenny about giving Sadie time to settle in?

  We didn’t tell anyone at school that she was staying with me, or that we were related. In fact, if anything we were interacting even less at school than we had previously. Some of the teachers knew of course, but they were keeping it to themselves. I certainly wasn’t going to tell Anne-Marie since I knew she’d never be able to keep it a secret. I did eventually tell Josh, who promised not to tell anyone until I said he could, and I knew I could trust him to keep his word. I’d been worried that he’d be cross because I hadn’t told him before about Sadie being my cousin, but he was cool about it.

  ‘It’s OK. You didn’t want to talk about it. I get it. Though it’s not as cool as the hitman story, is it?’

  ‘Hey, I’d much rather have an uncle who’s a crooked accountant than a hitman!’ I joked. But I was relieved he wasn’t angry with me. Maybe boys are different that way, or maybe it’s just Josh. But if the situation was reversed I know I’d be pretty miffed!

  I came home from school ahead of Sadie on Wednesday and took the opportunity to talk to Mum.

  ‘Listen, you do realise Sadie’s only showing you her best behaviour at the moment, don’t you? What you’re seeing is so not the real her! And you did tell her this is only temporary, didn’t you?’

  Mum stood up after putting a vegetable casserole in the oven and gave me her full attention. ‘Stop worrying so much. I think everything is going very well under the circumstances.’

  ‘But you’ve got to see that all this being super nice to you and complimenting you on your cooking and saying she likes that stupid loo roll cover … it’s all fake!’

  ‘Poppy, there’s always a honeymoon period at the start of every new placement, and I’m not expecting this to be any different.’

  I sighed. ‘Mum, this isn’t the same thing.’

  ‘Of course it is!’

  I shook my head and sighed again. Most of our foster-kids are perfectly behaved little angels when they first arrive because they’re desperate for us to like them. With Amy that lasted about three weeks. This is what Mum means when she talks about the ‘honeymoon period’. Sooner or later though, that always changes. In fact, quite often they go to the other extreme. The best way I can explain it is to repeat what Mum and Lenny told me after Amy crayoned all over my bedroom walls one day while I was at school. They said that most children who get taken into care have already lost at least one home and family, so as soon as they start to feel safe in a new one, they worry about losing that as well. So without really being conscious of why they’re doing it, they begin to test just how ‘safe’ their new home is by misbehaving to see if they get kicked out. And often they’ll keep testing us in different ways for quite a while.

  ‘I really don’t think this is the same,’ I insisted with a frown.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It’s just more … I don’t know … more manipulative than that, like she really knows what she’s doing.’

  Before Mum could respond we heard the front door opening, and moments later Sadie was calling out a hello from the hall.

  ‘I’m just going up to my room to start my homework,’ she told Mum as she briefly stuck her head into the kitchen. ‘By the way, Poppy says you’re going to buy me new curtains but I think the curtains in my room are super cute. Did you really make them yourself?’

  I rolled my eyes at her blatant sucking-up. The curtains in that room have got teddies on them so Amy had really liked them, but the seams are coming unstitched and they don’t quite hang right because they were the first thing Mum made at a sewing class she went to a long time ago.

  Mum just smiled and thanked Sadie for her compliment.

  ‘Do you want me to set the table or something before I go?’ Sadie asked sweetly.

  I pulled a face, not that I let Mum see it. Honestly, the more helpful Sadie got, the more I wanted to hit her.

  ‘So, Sadie, how do you like your new school?’ Mum asked as the three of us sat down at the table an hour or so later. ‘Are you settling in OK?’

  ‘I guess so. The kids there aren’t as streetwise as I’m used to. Still, I guess that’ll help keep me out of trouble!’

  She laughed and Mum joined in. I scowled and stabbed my fork extra hard into my dinner. ‘I’m getting a bit sick of vegetables,’ I said, but neither of them responded.

  ‘The art facilities are fantastic!’ Sadie went on, and I saw her smirking as she glanced around at the various childish paintings and pictures I’d done over the years, which Mum still insists on keeping up in the kitchen.

  For the first time I noticed the gaps on the fridge door where Mum had taken down Amy’s pictures so she could take them away with her. Mum had kept only two – a funny self-portrait
and a scribbly one Amy had drawn of me. Beside them Mum had stuck our copy of Amy’s most recent nursery school photograph, where she was smiling happily, her black curly hair tied in pigtails with two yellow ribbons.

  Sadie had a funny look on her face as she gazed at a childish painting of daffodils I’d done for Mother’s Day when I was six, that Mum had actually framed. For a moment I thought she looked jealous, but I told myself that was ridiculous. After all, why would Sadie be jealous of anything I had done, when she was easily the best artist in our year? In fact, she was probably one of the best artists in our school.

  ‘Poppy tells me you’re a very talented artist, Sadie,’ Mum said as if she could read my mind.

  ‘Oh yeah, well … it kind of runs in the family,’ Sadie mumbled.

  ‘Oh yes. I remember your dad used to be a very good painter.’

  ‘He still is.’ She sighed. ‘I guess he’s the one I get it from.’ She looked at Mum a little shyly. ‘Unless my mum … ?’

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  Sadie’s mum just wasn’t talked about in such a casual way in our house.

  Mum seemed to let out a breath she’d been holding. ‘Oh no … Kim was never the arty type,’ she said. ‘None of our family was very good at that sort of thing.’

  There was another awkward silence as Sadie seemed to digest this information. It must be strange not to know such an ordinary thing about your own mother, I thought.

  ‘Would you like to be an artist when you grow up, Sadie?’ Mum asked, clearly trying to break the tension.

  Sadie shrugged. ‘Maybe … If I’m good enough.’

  ‘Oh, you’re definitely good enough!’ I put in before I could stop myself.

  Mum looked pleased by my comment and I saw her glance at Sadie for some kind of response. But this time – maybe because I’d said something so unexpectedly nice – Sadie was struggling to find one.

  Chapter Ten

  The next few days passed and suddenly it was Saturday again. I couldn’t believe Sadie had been staying with us for a whole week. I had avoided being alone with her as much as I could, and Sadie had continued to act like the perfect guest. Sadie’s social worker had been and gone, seemingly perfectly happy with her temporary placement, and there was still no news about when she’d be moving on to a longer-term foster-family.

  ‘How about we go out to the park for a bit, Poppy?’ Sadie suggested as I came downstairs on Saturday morning. I’d already stayed in my room for longer than I normally would on a weekend morning because I was in no rush to join Sadie and Mum in the kitchen.

  They’d actually been baking! The scones they’d made were already in the oven and now Sadie was busy loading the dishwasher. She was still wearing the pink flowery apron Mum had lent her.

  I gaped at her in disbelief. ‘What – you and me? Together?’

  Sadie laughed. ‘Yeah. The fresh air will be good for us, right?’ She shot Mum her most open, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile as she undid her apron.

  Of course Mum fell for it. Mum is always saying I should get more fresh air. Fresh air is very good for your complexion apparently. So before I knew what was happening I was being sent out to the park with Sadie – the last person on earth I wanted to hang out with.

  ‘You know what,’ Sadie told me as soon as we left the house, ‘I really like your mum. I think I’ll start calling her “Auntie Kathy”. And I don’t think she’s nearly as stuck-up as my dad made out.’

  ‘She’s not stuck-up at all,’ I said crossly.

  ‘Yeah, well, Dad says she used to be. He says she used to speak to him like he was the lowest of the low, and that she tried to interfere all the time in how he was looking after me after my mum left.’

  ‘She was probably just trying to help, that’s all.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘Like she is now.’ I only just stopped myself from saying something cutting about Sadie’s dad. Instead I asked, ‘So when did you last see him?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Fine,’ I replied.

  We walked on in silence.

  ‘The park’s this way,’ I reminded her as she turned right instead of left at the bottom of our road.

  ‘Look, we can split up now! You go to the park. I’ll go where I’m going. I only suggested we go together so your mum wouldn’t suspect anything. Linda always got uptight if I tried to go anywhere on my own.’

  ‘Suspect what?’ I demanded. ‘Where are you going in any case?’

  ‘Oh, you know …’ she answered in a sarcastic tone, ‘it’s Saturday, so that’s the day I usually go and nick stuff from Sainsbury’s.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  I’ll meet you at the swings in two hours and then we can go back together. How’s that?’

  ‘I’m not hanging around in the park for two hours! Anyway, if you go off for that long I’ll have to tell Mum.’

  ‘Listen, Poppy, you know those mates you saw me with the other day? I’m going to meet up with them. OK? And to be honest –’ she looked me up and down witheringly – ‘they’re really not your kind of people. So the best thing you can do is cover for me with your mum – then my friends won’t get mad at you and pay you a visit like they did Linda.’

  ‘SADIE!’ I yelled after her as she walked away, but she just ignored me.

  As I watched her walk briskly towards the main road I wondered if I should tell Mum anyway. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she really was going shoplifting. But I was a bit afraid Sadie might carry out her threat. I still didn’t know what had happened at Linda’s, but so far I’d been imagining all sorts of horrible stuff which I’d hate to have happen at ours: bricks through the windows, dog poo through the letter box, fire-setting, poisoning the cat. (OK, so we don’t actually have a cat, but Tiger from next door is always lazing in the sun on our front doorstep.)

  In the end I decided it was probably safer to let it go. Besides, what did I care if she went ahead and got into trouble? At least then Mum might see that I was right about her.

  I took out my phone and called Josh, hoping he’d want to meet up for a bit. Thankfully he was also at a loose end and he agreed to meet me at the shops near the park.

  ‘I’ll meet you inside the gift shop,’ I told him. ‘You can help me choose a birthday present for my dad.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Josh complained. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘See you in fifteen minutes,’ I said with a grin, ending the call before he thought up a good enough excuse to back out.

  Anne-Marie is always teasing me about Josh, referring to him as my boyfriend and asking me when the wedding’s going to be. I keep telling her that we’re just good friends, but she doesn’t listen.

  Recently I tried to shut her up by stating that I would never risk ruining my friendship with Josh by going out with him. But she even had an answer for that: ‘That’s silly,’ she’d said. ‘Because when you do get a boyfriend you won’t be able to stay best friends anyway – your boyfriend will get jealous. Same thing will happen if Josh gets a girlfriend. So you might as well give the romance thing a go, because basically your friendship is doomed anyway.’

  ‘Don’t be too optimistic will you?’ I’d said sarcastically. ‘Anyway, I don’t even want a boyfriend. Not yet, at any rate!’

  ‘What about what Josh wants?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ve never discussed it.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should.’

  *

  I arrived at the shops before Josh did. There’s a little cafe there as well as the gift shop, a newsagent, an estate agent’s and a second-hand bookshop.

  I was inside the gift shop when Josh joined me. ‘So let me guess … as per usual, you don’t know what to get him?’ he said when he found me standing in front of the men’s toiletries with a big frown on my face. Like I said before, Josh has known me for a long time and he’s well aware of how I’m always trying my hardest to impress my dad.

  ‘Got it in one,’ I murmured gloomily. �
��It’s this Friday.’

  The trouble is I always get stressed about buying Dad’s present, which Mum says is my own fault because I try too hard to get it perfect. She says not to worry because Dad will like anything I give him just because it’s from me, but I’m not so sure that’s true. I mean, he never wears the tie I gave him last Christmas, and the toiletries I bought him for his last birthday are still sitting on his bathroom shelf in their original packaging.

  ‘I wish that just one time, I could get him something he really loves,’ I confided in Josh. ‘But it’s hard because he has such expensive tastes in … well … in just about everything.’

  Josh nodded sympathetically and started to follow me around the shop.

  Once we were outside again (without buying anything) Josh said, ‘What about the bookshop?’

  I shook my head. ‘He won’t want anything from there.’

  ‘I thought you said he doesn’t do charity shops but he does do second-hand books?’

  ‘Well, yes, but not the way Mum and I do them. Put it this way,’ I said with a sigh. ‘He won’t want anything from in there that I can afford to buy him.’

  Mum and I always spend ages in second-hand bookshops browsing the shelves to see what we can find and pausing frequently to show each other stuff or to read amusing blurbs out loud. Currently Mum is on a mission to replace all the children’s books she remembers having as a girl.

  Dad, on the other hand, makes straight for the locked glass cabinet behind the till where all the more valuable items are displayed. And if there’s nothing there that interests him he just walks straight out again.

  ‘What about going for nostalgic value instead?’ Josh suggested, pointing at an old Beano annual in the window.

  I shook my head at the Beano but I followed him inside anyway, not really expecting to find a present for Dad, but knowing I’d have fun browsing for books Mum or I might like.

  After a little while I spotted an old Just William hardback and I suddenly remembered Dad talking about how he used to like Just William as a boy. I picked up the book and showed it to Josh. ‘But it’s not signed and it’s not a first edition or anything,’ I said uncertainly.