My Super Sister

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘Besides,’ Dad added, winking at me,

  ‘Superman has better powers than you, Emma. I mean you can’t fly, can you? And you haven’t got X-ray vision.’

  ‘Jim . . . please . . .’ Granny was giving Dad a very stern look.

  ‘Of course, Superman isn’t real,’ Dad added hurriedly, ‘so he probably isn’t a very good example.’

  ‘Who is a good example, Granny?’ I asked.

  But of course Granny couldn’t name one, because she doesn’t know anyone else in the real world with a superpower.

  ‘You’d think there must be some other people like us out there . . .’ Mum mused as she stabbed her fork into a squidgy carrot.

  ‘Yes, I mean this can’t be the only family with an ancestor who was struck by lightning and mutated into a super-being,’ Dad added in his teasing voice again.

  Granny really doesn’t like it when Dad makes fun of our family’s special gift. Giving him a cool look, she turned to address Mum. ‘Marsha, I am not suggesting the girls dart about like superheroes, helping out complete strangers at huge risk to themselves, but I do think—’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, whatever’s happening now?’ Mum broke in impatiently, pointing out into the garden, where it was starting to get dark.

  Granny’s garden gnomes, who we had already carried into the back garden one by one from the van, were all bending over at the edge of the grass, their shiny bottoms wobbling from side to side as they worked. It looked like they were weeding our flower-bed.

  ‘Mother, you know we have a strict rule about no animations outside the house!’ Mum protested. ‘What if somebody sees?’

  ‘I do wish you’d stop fretting, Marsha,’ Granny retorted. ‘Your hedges are far too high for anyone to see into the garden . . . You’re lucky . . . When I tried to screen off my little garden, I got a letter from the council telling me I’d overdone it and that my neighbours had complained. You’d think they’d be grateful to have a bit of privacy themselves instead of making all that fuss about the lack of light, wouldn’t you?’

  Saffie had gone over to the patio doors to watch the gnomes at work. She was clearly fascinated by seeing so many of them all in motion at the same time. (The most I can do is two toys at once, though I know Saffie can manage three.) Granny says that multi-animating is just like being the conductor of an orchestra. First you set one instrument off and then another, keeping each one in mind while managing the orchestra as a whole.

  ‘Look!’ Saffie suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the hedge between our garden and the next. A couple of seconds later a blond head appeared over the top – then disappeared just as quickly. ‘Emma, it’s that boy!’ Saffie shrieked. ‘He must be on his trampoline.’

  ‘What boy?’ Mum asked now.

  ‘Yes, what boy?’ Dad echoed.

  I hadn’t yet told our parents about the encounter we’d had with the boy next door, so I quickly filled them in. At the same time Granny started de-animating her garden gnomes one by one at top speed. Mum was looking stunned as if she was only just realizing the full implications of our new neighbours owning a trampoline.

  ‘Listen, let’s not get too paranoid, shall we?’ Dad said. ‘This trampoline is probably just a perfectly innocent toy . . .’

  ‘A toy that doubles as a spying device, more likely!’ Mum muttered.

  ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be operational for much longer in any case,’ Granny said grimly. ‘I’ve disabled plenty of spying devices in my time and this one shouldn’t be too difficult!’

  Dad was smiling now. ‘Don’t tell me, Supergran! You and your gnomes are going over there tonight to rip it to bits with your gardening forks?’

  Granny looked across at him with an ultra-straight face. ‘Make fun of me if you like, Jim, if it helps you deal with this . . . but Marsha is right. These new neighbours of yours are a serious threat and we can’t just ignore them.’ She turned back to Mum. ‘Tomorrow I shall take Saffie under my wing. We’ll soon have her more in control of her power. Emma, you can help too. I gather you don’t use your gift very much these days, so it will do you good to have a bit of practice.’

  I flushed because it’s true that I don’t use my superpower nearly as much as I used to – at least not in front of my family. Ever since I realized that my gift isn’t as strong as Saffie’s I’ve tended to use it just when I’m on my own.

  Granny looked at my sister, who still had her face pressed against the window looking out at the boy. Granny cleared her throat loudly as if she was about to make an important announcement. ‘Be selective. Be accurate. Be discreet. Those are the golden rules one needs to live by if one is born with a special power, Serafina.’

  Unfortunately it seemed that Saffie truly wasn’t listening this time, because she said, ‘Mum, shall I make the trampoline come to life right now and tip him off?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Mum replied crossly, rushing to pull her away from the window.

  ‘Discreet?’ Dad responded to Granny’s words of advice with a chuckle. ‘Is that what you call a bright orange van full of garden gnomes?’

  Granny glared at him. ‘A van has no windows at the back, therefore it is very discreet, thank you, Jim. Now . . . if you don’t mind I’d like to finish my dinner . . . And, Marsha, please tell me you’re not allowing my granddaughters to leave all that food on their plates. Though I must say these greens might be a bit more appetizing if they weren’t quite so well cooked . . .’

  ‘Granny, are you going to start teaching Saffie today?’ I asked as I passed her the cornflakes at breakfast the next morning. Saffie was upstairs getting dressed. Judging by the time she was taking I was guessing she’d got sidetracked into playing with her dolls again, but as it was the summer holidays and there was no school Mum said it didn’t really matter.

  Mum was unloading the washing machine and Dad had just left for work.

  Granny nodded. ‘I certainly am, Emma – and you can help me. I think a game of frisbee with my garden gnomes will start us off nicely.’ Before Mum could protest Granny said, ‘Don’t worry, Marsha, I saw your neighbours leave in their car just now. They won’t see anything. Which reminds me . . . I must do something about that boy’s wretched trampoline today . . .’ She frowned. ‘Marsha, just look at all that washing! I really can’t understand why you don’t get the girls to help you more.’

  ‘They do help me, Mother. They often peg it out on the line.’

  ‘You know very well what I mean,’ Granny said impatiently. ‘There’s really no need to spend all the time you do on all these household chores.’

  ‘Mother, Jim would freak out if the housework started doing itself. He’s not like Dad, you know. He won’t just withdraw into his own little world and pretend it’s not happening.’

  Granny gave her a narrow-eyed look. ‘I wouldn’t say your father withdraws, Marsha. And regarding the housework, I gave him the option years ago of doing it all himself if he didn’t approve of my methods.’

  ‘I know – I remember you gave me the same generous option when I was a teenager,’ Mum said, before promptly disappearing outside with the washing basket.

  Granny was frowning after Mum as she murmured, ‘Come on, Emma . . . let’s go and find your sister . . .’

  ‘What we need to work on first, Saffie, is improving your concentration,’ Granny was saying half an hour later as she dug out our frisbee from our under-the-stairs cupboard. Mum had gone to the shops, making us promise to listen carefully for any sign of our neighbours returning. ‘That’s the first thing I worked on with you when you were little, isn’t it, Emma?’ Granny added, throwing the frisbee to me to catch, which we are absolutely not allowed to do inside the house.

  I nodded. Granny’s lessons had pretty much all been about concentration as far as I recalled. ‘We played lots of memory games,’ I said. ‘It was fun. You know, Saffie, like when we’re in the car and we play In My Picnic Basket I Packed . . . and you have to remember everything that’s in it.’

>   ‘I don’t like that game,’ Saffie said. ‘I like pretend games better – or playing outside.’

  ‘Which is why I want to make use of the garden while your neighbours are out,’ Granny said promptly. ‘You have to learn how to stay more focused when you are using your power, Saffie. If you get interrupted in the middle of an animation you have to practise keeping some of your attention on your chosen object, even if you are also forced to focus elsewhere. Otherwise incidents like the one with your shed yesterday will keep on happening. Do you understand?’

  ‘That wasn’t my fault . . .’ Saffie whined, glowering defensively at the mention of Dennis.

  Granny laughed. ‘It never is, my darling . . . Now listen to me . . . you and Emma have both been born with an incredible gift . . . but you need to learn how to use it responsibly . . .’

  ‘That means sensibly and safely, Saffie,’ I told her in my most grown-up big-sister voice.

  Saffie was still frowning, but I could tell we had her attention.

  ‘We will now have a game of frisbee in the garden,’ Granny continued. ‘It will be a perfectly normal game but with one exception. Saffie, you must choose one of my gnomes to bring to life so that he can join in the game. Then I want you to play frisbee with us while also keeping the gnome animated. It will be excellent practice in how to split your attention effectively!’

  So we went out into the back garden and Saffie immediately concentrated on making Granny’s second-oldest gnome, Cedric, spring into action. Cedric is a very friendly-looking garden gnome with bright blue eyes, white hair and a long white beard. He wears green dungarees over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of black boots and an orange pointy hat. He also carries a fishing rod with a grey plastic fish dangling from the end.

  As soon as Cedric came to life he tightened his grip on his rod and started to panic about where to put his fish – which had also come to life and was flapping about furiously on the end of his fishing line.

  Granny was flapping too. When she’s in her own garden she always drops Cedric’s fish straight into the garden pond – but unfortunately we don’t have one. She turned to me. ‘Emma, would you go and fill the washing-up bowl with cold water, please, and bring it out here as quickly as you can.’

  By the time I got back outside, everyone was looking super-stressed.

  ‘Over here, quickly!’ yelled Cedric. He plopped the now weakly flapping fish into the bowl and let out a relieved sigh as it revived and began to swim around. (Only when he became an ordinary garden gnome again would his fish turn back to plastic.)

  ‘Cedric, do you know how to play frisbee?’ Saffie asked him after we had spent a few minutes watching the fish.

  ‘Of course I know how to play frisbee! Frisbee, rounders, piggy in the middle, hide-and-seek, ring-a-ring o’ roses . . . you name it, I can play it!’ Cedric boasted.

  ‘OK then! Let’s start!’ Saffie sang out, running into the middle of the grass with the frisbee and shouting, ‘Here, Emma!’ as she hurled it at me.

  ‘Great throw, Saffie!’ Cedric praised her, and when I caught it he jumped up and down and clapped.

  Cedric proved to be a fantastic player himself, leaping into the air to catch the plastic disc without fail each time as Saffie giggled in delight.

  Granny was clearly as impressed by Cedric’s – and Saffie’s – performance as I was. She surveyed my sister who, as well as keeping Cedric on top form, was also managing to throw and catch the frisbee herself when required. ‘Saffie, you are much more talented than I realized,’ she told her.

  ‘That must be why I’m so talented,’ Cedric declared. ‘After all, talent begets talent, does it not?’

  ‘Cedric, stop boasting and CATCH!’ I yelled.

  And that was when it all went wrong.

  Just as Cedric leaped up to catch the frisbee I had hurled, my little sister noticed her Supergirl costume hanging out on the washing-line to dry. Mum must have decided to put it in the wash after all without telling her.

  ‘Hey! I wanted to wear that today! I was looking for it everywhere!’ Saffie exclaimed, forgetting Cedric in an instant. As she stomped over to the washing-line, the gnome fell with a thud to the ground, no longer animated, and the frisbee sailed on over the hedge into our neighbours’ garden.

  ‘Serafina!’ Granny shouted crossly as she rushed over to check on Cedric. ‘This is just what you are not to do! Poor Cedric is going to have a very sore head when he next comes to life – I just hope he doesn’t have concussion.’

  ‘I don’t think you can get concussion when you don’t have a brain,’ I said, thinking back to Dad’s reaction the last time Mum had been in a panic after her precious Elvira had fallen off Saffie’s window ledge and banged her head.

  But Saffie hadn’t finished venting her anger yet. She was standing staring up at her bedroom window with a flushed face and a certain glint in her eyes that spelled trouble.

  ‘How do you know a garden gnome doesn’t have a brain?’ shouted a familiar voice from above our heads, and Granny and I looked up to see Dorothy the rag doll standing on Saffie’s window ledge, pressing her nose against the glass to look down at us. Elvira was standing beside her. The small window above them was open so we could hear them easily.

  ‘If he does have a brain then it’s probably in his bottom,’ Elvira joked, ‘just like yours, Dorothy!’

  ‘Elvira, you may be the longest serving doll in this family, but you’ve gone too far this time,’ Dorothy snapped, and she gave the other doll a very angry shove.

  Elvira screamed as she toppled backwards off the window ledge and disappeared from view.

  Granny was gazing at my sister thoughtfully. ‘That child is all over the place! I can see why your mother needs me to take her in hand.’ She put on her sternest voice as she called out, ‘Serafina, please come here right now.’

  Saffie ignored her. Like I said before, Saffie hates being bossed around.

  ‘Young lady, this is no way to behave!’ Granny called across sternly to my sister. ‘Your mother thinks it’s just your attention span that’s the problem, but I’m not so sure! If you can’t control those dolls of yours then perhaps we should take them away.’

  Saffie immediately stopped laughing and looked angry again. ‘NO!’ she shouted stubbornly, stamping her foot and running headlong into the house before Granny could stop her.

  ‘Serafina, come back here!’ Granny shouted, but she got no response.

  ‘I think she’s cross all the time because she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her,’ I murmured. I was remembering what it was like to be my sister’s age and having to deal with a so-called ‘gift’ that would freak out most grown-ups.

  ‘Neither did I understand it when I was her age, but I still behaved myself,’ Granny snapped.

  I felt myself becoming more and more protective of my little sister as Granny ranted on about how Saffie wasn’t so much confused as just plain naughty. ‘That child’s a time bomb waiting to go off!’ Granny finally concluded. ‘I can see now why your poor mother is so worried! I had no idea Serafina had turned into such a handful!’

  For the first time ever I actually shouted at Granny. ‘Stop saying horrible things about Saffie! It’s not her fault that one of your stupid ancestors was struck by lightning and got genetically mutated into a super-being, is it?’

  Granny let out a gasp, then a snort of laughter, before rounding on me. ‘Young lady, in case you’ve forgotten how these things work – that stupid person was your ancestor too!’

  Just then we heard a creaking sound coming from the other side of the hedge. Someone was jumping up and down on the trampoline next door.

  Granny and I stood still, staring at each other. Whoever it was would have heard everything. ‘Let’s go inside now,’ Granny said, looking pale.

  But Saffie must have gone straight upstairs to her bedroom, because the main window was now wide open and she was leaning out of it holding Elvira, who she must have rescu
ed from the bedroom floor.

  ‘Cedric wants to play frisbee again!’ a very wild and worked-up Saffie shouted down at us.

  Cedric sprang back to life and let out a groan as he felt the pain in his head. Then he started to fuss about the whereabouts of his fishing rod (which was on the grass beside him) and his fish (which had remained in the washing-up bowl). At the same time Dorothy, who was still on Saffie’s window ledge, screamed as Elvira’s foot dealt her a well-aimed kick that sent her flying right out of the open window.

  At that exact moment a head appeared for a few seconds on the other side of our neighbours’ hedge. I’d expected to see the boy from next door, but instead it was his dad – Godfrey Seaton – who was on the trampoline. As he jumped higher and higher, getting a better view of our garden with each bounce, his breathless voice called out to us, ‘Don’t mind me! Just taking a spot of exercise!’ And all the time his inquisitive eyes were taking in everything.

  It was then that Cedric picked up his fishing rod and announced that he was going to catch his fish, even if he did have to make do with a washing-up bowl instead of a proper garden pond.

  And Godfrey Seaton let out a shriek like the kind you might make on a very fast and scary fairground ride. It was half terrified and half excited.

  When Mum got back from the shops a little later and heard what we had to say she just stared at the three of us in horror.

  ‘So you’re saying he saw Cedric coming to life and he saw Dorothy already animated as she fell out of the window and he overheard Emma yelling out that we were a family of mutant super-beings,’ Mum summarized, glaring at all three of us but particularly at Granny.

  I gulped. ‘Sorry, Mum.’ It sounded even worse, put like that.

  ‘I did check that their car was still gone before we went outside,’ Granny defended herself, looking flushed. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t hear them coming back. Normally my hearing is very good.’