Ali and Nina and Amaleena all tittered uncomfortably.
I barked a triumphant hyena laugh. ‘There! Who’s a baby now?’ I said, twirling Baba around.
Then Baba suddenly became a whole lot lighter. Most of her dropped onto the carpet and sprawled there. I was left holding one of her old withered legs.
‘Oh!’ I said, stricken. ‘Oh, Melissa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break her.’
We all stared at Melissa. For a moment it looked as if she was going to cry. I could see her chin wobbling. But then she laughed shakily. She nudged the remains of Baba with her toe.
‘As if I care about that old thing,’ she said, and she kicked her under the bunk amongst my dirty socks.
‘Hey, have you seen my Justin Bieber photo?’ she went on, grabbing it and thrusting it at them.
Ali and Nina and Amaleena all squealed excitedly, distracted. I gave them the forgotten tray of smoothies and biscuits and crept away.
Mum found me hunched up on the stairs. ‘Oh dear. You look a poor lost soul. Well, you can’t play with Dad because he’s still seeing his client. I think she’s a total time-waster. I bet she just takes an armful of brochures away and never comes back. How about you coming and fixing the supper with me, Martina? I’m making a trifle. You can lick out the bowl.’
Mum was trying to be so nice to me, and somehow it made me feel much worse. After Dad’s client had gone at last, he read me a story. Doing different funny voices. I huddled up beside him and tried to laugh in all the right places. Dad was being even nicer than Mum, and that made me feel worse of all. The moment Ali and Nina and Amaleena went home I was sure Melissa would tell on me – and then I’d be for it.
I was right.
When they were all gone, Mum turned to Melissa and gave her a big hug. ‘Did you have a lovely time with your friends, darling? I bet they loved your new bedroom!’ she said.
Melissa glared at me.
‘Don’t tell, don’t tell, don’t tell!’ I mouthed at her.
But Melissa always told.
‘No, I didn’t have a lovely time! Marty totally humiliated me. She deliberately made a huge mess and threw all her stupid animals about, and wrote that I had a big bottom in lipstick! I just about died,’ she said.
‘What?’
I tried to make Mum understand, but I couldn’t get the words out properly. I appealed to Dad, but he seemed horrified too.
‘I just can’t believe you could be so mean and spiteful, Martina,’ he said. ‘Especially when Melissa tried so hard to make your friend Jaydene welcome. I’m thoroughly ashamed of you.’
I was sent up to bed early in disgrace. Mum and Dad barely said goodnight to me when Melissa came up to bed. Melissa wasn’t speaking to me either.
‘I’m sorry I amputated Baba,’ I whispered into the darkness.
Melissa didn’t answer. She waited for a few minutes after Mum and Dad had switched off the light and gone downstairs. Then she got out of her bunk bed and crept over to the bedroom door.
‘Where are you going, Melissa?’ I whispered.
She took no notice. She stole out. I lay there miserably, wrapped tight in Wilma, wondering if she was going downstairs to tell about Baba too – but after a minute she came tiptoeing back. She’d been in the sewing room. I heard her get back into bed and saw the glow of her torch. I hung down over the edge of my top bunk, bumping my head on the ladder, and saw that Melissa was sitting up in bed, sewing Baba’s leg back on.
‘Oh, Melissa, is she OK again now? I said I’m really sorry,’ I said.
‘You will be sorry. Very, very, very sorry,’ Melissa said ominously.
She didn’t say anything else at all, even though I begged her to talk to me. When Baba had two legs again, she snapped off her torch and lay down. After a few minutes I heard her breathing heavily, fast asleep.
I couldn’t get to sleep for ages.
The next morning I was so tired I couldn’t wake up properly. I was dimly aware of Melissa rustling around the room very early, long before Mum and Dad were up, and I wondered what she was doing – but then I fell asleep again. Later on I heard Mum calling me to get up, but I turned over and buried my head under my pillow. I lay there, hearing the clank and clatter of the recycling lorry as it chugged its way slowly along the road, and as the great roar faded away, I dozed again.
‘Marty! Mum says you’ve got to come down for breakfast now,’ said Melissa, putting her head round our bedroom door. There was something odd about her voice.
I sat up in bed. ‘What is it? What’s up?’ My heart started thudding. ‘What have you done?’
‘You’ll find out,’ said Melissa ominously, and sauntered off to the bathroom.
I clambered down my bunk-bed ladder and looked around the room. My shelf was empty. No Jumper or Basil or Polly or Half-Percy. Even Patches and Gee-Up and Sugarlump and Merrylegs and Dandelion and Starlight were missing. I ran to my cupboard and pulled it open. It was empty! I tried Melissa’s cupboard but that was just neatly stacked with her own stuff. I looked in the wardrobe, in Melissa’s dressing-table drawers – I even looked in her jewellery box. I looked everywhere.
My animals were missing.
You’ll be very, very, very sorry!
Melissa had stolen my poor dear pets! What had she done with them? Had she dumped them in the rubbish bin as she’d often threatened?
I ran downstairs in my pyjamas, hurtled across the hall and out of the front door. I charged over to the wheelie bin in my bare feet, pulled up the lid – and saw it was empty. The recycling lorry had already been. I thought of my poor animals caught up in the gigantic steel maw of that great recycling monster. I knew what would happen next. I’d seen the end of Toy Story 3.
I started running down our garden path, yelling, though the recycling lorry wasn’t even in sight now.
‘Martina! What on earth are you playing at? You are so going to drive me crazy! Get back into the house this instant!’ Mum shouted, running after me and grabbing me.
‘But, Mum, you don’t understand! My animals!’ I screamed.
The nosy old lady next door opened her window and leaned out. ‘My goodness, what’s all that noise? What’s the matter with Martina?’
‘Nothing! She’s perfectly fine!’ Mum called, in a high strangled voice. She pulled me closer and hissed in my face, ‘Get back in the house right this second and stop shaming me!’ She dragged me back indoors, struggling and kicking.
‘What are you playing at now, Marty?’ Dad called from the kitchen. ‘Are you crying?’
‘I’ll give her something to cry about in a minute!’ said Mum. ‘Now go upstairs and get washed and dressed immediately. And what’s that smell? Oh no, it’s the toast burning.’
Mum and Dad went into the kitchen, bickering about the burned toast. I looked up the stairs – and there was Melissa hanging over the banisters, grinning down at me.
‘Oh dear, have the dustbin men come already?’ she said.
I shot up the stairs like a rocket, my fists clenched. Melissa flew into our bedroom and tried to slam the door shut on me, but I hurled myself against it and forced it open.
‘You pig, you hateful wicked pig, you’ve stolen all my animals!’ I yelled, pummelling her.
She ducked away from me, laughing. ‘I told you you’d be very, very, sorry,’ she said, insufferably smug. ‘You brought it all on yourself, making all that mess and then pulling Baba to bits.’
Baba! I ran to Melissa’s bunk, felt under her pillow and pulled Baba out. Right! If I’d lost all my dear precious animals, then Melissa was going to lose her stupid baby.
‘Give me Baba!’ she said, suddenly worried.
I was much too quick for her. I ran up my bunk-bed ladder like a monkey and flopped down on my top bunk, tearing at Baba with my bare hands. Her newly sewn leg came off at once, and the other one, and – grisly triumph – her whole head came off with one gigantic tug.
‘Baba!’ Melissa screamed, and started climbing the
ladder to rescue her.
‘Get away! Get off!’ I said, kicking out with my feet, determined to tear Baba to bits first. I kicked again as hard as I could – and the whole ladder jerked sideways, the little hooks on the end becoming detached. Melissa screamed again and lost her grip on the rungs. She seemed suspended in the air in the weirdest slow motion, her mouth gaping – and then she fell to the floor with a terrible thump.
I sat still on the top bunk, staring down at her, pieces of Baba in my hands. Melissa lay very still too, on her back, her head tilted sideways.
‘Melissa?’ I said croakily.
Melissa didn’t reply.
I swallowed. ‘Please, Melissa. You are all right, aren’t you?’ I whispered.
I dropped Baba and then swung myself carefully over the side of the bunk beds, ignoring the shaky ladder. I knelt beside Melissa. Her eyes were shut, her mouth still a little open. I couldn’t see any blood anywhere. She just looked as if she were asleep.
‘Melissa, wake up!’ I said. I reached out and gave her a little shake. ‘Stop it, you’re frightening me. I know you’re only playing. Open your eyes!’
She took no notice. I tickled her under her chin. Melissa is terribly ticklish and always hunches her shoulders and squeals if you tickle her neck. She didn’t even twitch.
‘Oh, Melissa!’ I said. And then I shouted at the top of my voice: ‘Mum! Dad! Come quick!’
‘What is it now? And what was that terrible thump? I’m warning you, Martina, I’ve had just about enough of your silly tricks,’ Mum called as she ran up the stairs – but then she gasped as she came into our room. She threw herself down on the carpet beside Melissa, and bent over her head.
‘Oh my God!’ she whispered.
Dad came running too. He took one look at Melissa, and then ran back down to the phone in the hall.
‘Yes, Ambulance, please. It’s an emergency. My daughter’s had a serious fall. Can you get an ambulance to 99 Milner Drive as soon as possible?’
I crouched in a corner, trembling. This was it. I’d done some terrible things in my time, but this was the worst one ever. I’d killed my sister.
Mum and Dad knelt on either side of Melissa, holding her hands and whispering to her. I kept waiting for them to look over at me and ask me about the accident. And then what would they do? They would probably hate me for ever, and I wouldn’t blame them. I hated me too. Would they tell the police on me? Would I get tried for murder and sent to prison? But I hadn’t meant to murder her, had I? I looked down at my hands. They were still clutching Baba’s face and one leg. I dropped them, shuddering.
Then the ambulance people came. They listened to Melissa’s chest and felt her very gently, and then put her in a neck brace and slipped her onto a stretcher.
‘Is she really dead?’ I whispered, but they didn’t even hear me.
They said Mum could go with Melissa in the ambulance and Dad would have to follow in his car.
‘Right, Marty. Come on,’ he said. He saw my bare feet. ‘Put your boots on. Quick.’
I shoved my feet into my Converse boots and followed him. ‘I’m frightened of hospitals,’ I mumbled.
‘So am I,’ said Dad. ‘But we’ve got to get there to be with Melissa.’
‘Dad – Dad, Melissa looked dead,’ I said.
‘Stop it,’ he said. ‘She’ll – she’ll be all right. I’m sure she will be. She’s unconscious because she’s had a bump on her head. Did she fall off the ladder? I can’t believe I didn’t fix it more securely.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Dad,’ I said. I wasn’t quite brave enough to say it was all my fault. I kept trying to make my mouth say it. I opened my lips but no sound came out.
When we got to the hospital, we had to drive round and round the car park to find a space. Then we ran round and round all the red-brick buildings, trying to find out where they’d taken Melissa. At last we found the right reception area at A & E. Melissa was supposed to be in a cubicle at the end, but when we pulled the curtain back there was no sign of her. Dad and I clutched each other’s hands, staring at the empty bed.
‘Oh, Dad, they’ve taken her away! She must be dead,’ I said, starting to sob.
‘No, no, they’ll be testing her or X-raying her – something like that,’ said Dad, but the palm of his hand was clammy with sweat.
He went to ask where she was now, while I sat on the end of the bed with my eyes tight shut, making all sorts of vows inside my head. I promised I’d never ever fight with Melissa again, just so long as she got better. I still felt a terrible pang at the thought of my poor animals. I couldn’t quite forgive Melissa for doing such a dreadful thing – but I didn’t want her dead.
‘It’s OK, Curlynob,’ said Dad, coming back into the cubicle. ‘I was right – they’ve taken her off for some sort of scan. We’ll go and try and find her. OK?’
We walked down miles of corridors, following red routes and green routes and going upstairs and round corners. At long long last we found Mum, leaning against the wall, her face greenish-white, tears running down her cheeks.
‘Oh, Mum, is she dead?’ I cried.
‘No, no, darling. Come here.’ Mum held out her arms and gave me a big hug.
I clung to her. Mum rocked me as if I were a little baby. It made me cry harder because I was sure she’d thrust me away from her if she knew what I’d done.
‘Melissa’s having her head scanned at the moment, just to make sure she’s all right, but she’s already woken up, and that’s obviously a very good sign,’ said Mum.
‘She’s really conscious?’ said Dad, joining in the hug.
‘Well, she’s still a bit woozy, and they want to keep her as quiet as possible at the moment – but her eyes are open and she’s taking everything in.’
Then Melissa herself was wheeled back on a trolley. She was still lying down and she looked very pale and floppy, but her eyes really were open.
‘Oh, Melissa!’ said Dad, and for the second time in my life I saw him cry. ‘Is she really all right?’ he asked the nurse.
‘As far as we can tell, she’s fine,’ said the nurse. ‘But just to be on the safe side we’ll put her in the children’s ward overnight so we can keep an eye on her.’
‘Can I stay with her?’ Mum asked.
‘Yes, of course you can,’ said the nurse.
She nodded at me. ‘You can come back and see your sister again at visiting time, Pyjama Queen.’
‘What?’
Mum suddenly gasped. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Martina, you’re still in your pyjamas! What are you two like?’
She told Dad and me off, but fondly. Melissa said nothing, but she smiled at me. I wanted to give her a great big hug, but she still looked too scary lying there, as limp as poor Baba.
Dad took me back to the car park, anxiously trying to shield me in case people stared at me in my pyjamas.
When we got back home, he clapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. ‘Oh no, I’ve just remembered – I’ve got a client coming to discuss cruise options. I suppose I’d better still see her. You go and get washed and dressed, Marty, and then play quietly in your room,’ he said.
I made myself scarce upstairs. I couldn’t bear to see the ladder lying drunkenly sideways, so I hauled it up and managed to hook it back in place.
I felt so bad in the overwhelmingly empty room that I grabbed Wilma and dived under the bunk beds in the dark, right up against the wall. Something slithered against me, something pecked my toe, something nuzzled into me. I gasped, feeling around frantically. All my animals were hiding underneath! Even Jumper was there, though he’d been squashed up uncomfortably with his head under his paws. Melissa hadn’t put them out in the rubbish bin! She’d just hidden them away to teach me a lesson, and here they were, safe and sound … while poor Baba was in bits and Melissa was lying in hospital.
I rescued all my animals and laid them out neatly on my top bunk with Wilma to recover. Then I searched around, gathering up the bits of Ba
ba. I went into Mum’s sewing room, shuddering at all the fancy dresses and costumes hanging from the rail in plastic bags, and helped myself to a needle and cotton. Then I sat down in my bedroom and started the long, slow, laborious process of putting Baba together again.
I wasn’t good at sewing like Melissa. I’d only ever sewn the edge of the black bear cushion. I sat down on him and he growled encouragement. My stitches were terribly big at first, and Baba’s head wobbled horribly even when it was sewn back in place. I had to pull all the stitches out and start all over again. This time I managed tiny little mouse stitches, and at last Baba’s head sat firmly on her neck.
Dad’s client took ages and then walked off saying she would think everything over. Dad came up to see what I was doing, sighing – and was taken aback to see me sewing Baba.
‘Oh, Marty, you’re a little treasure!’ he said. ‘You’re sewing old Baba up to take to Melissa in hospital! I wish your mum could see you now. You’re such a good girl!’
‘I’m not, Dad. I’m bad. I’m very, very bad,’ I said miserably. I tried to tell him, but I still couldn’t get the words past my lips. I went a little weepy again, worrying about Melissa. ‘Dad, do you think Melissa really is going to get completely better, right as rain?’
‘Yes, I’m sure she will. Look, you’re not meant to phone people in hospital, but I’ll text Mum just to check.’
How’s M? he texted.
Mum texted back, Looking much better!
I started sewing Baba’s leg back, and Dad went to answer the door again. It was Jaydene’s mum! She was very concerned when Dad told her that Melissa was in hospital, but then asked if she could have a word with him ‘in a professional capacity’.
I thought she was wanting him to book a holiday for her. She certainly stayed huddled in his office for ages. I sewed Baba until she was as good as new (well, almost), and then I held her tight, cradling her, telling her I’d take her to see Melissa this very afternoon.
The Worst Thing About My Sister Page 10
