by Jean Ure
“I would,” I said. “When I get married it’s going to be to someone with a really romantic kind of name.” Valentine, for instance. That was my current favourite. Flora Valentine!
Em sniffed. “You are just so pathetic.”
“Names are important,” I said.
“Only to really shallow sorts of people. Caroline’s not shallow.”
I said, “Nor am I, but suppose I get to be famous at something? I wouldn’t want to be known as Flora Pratt!”
“Omigod,” said Em, “you’re even more shallow than I thought! Anyway, what would you ever be famous for?”
“I could be famous,” I said.
Em said, “Yes, and pigs might fly! You are so ridiculous at times.”
I sulked for a bit, but I can never keep up a sulk for very long. My mouth just seems to open of its own accord and things come blurting out.
“I always thought Dad would marry Polly!”
“Well, he’s marrying Caroline,” said Em. “And you ought to be happy for him!”
“I am,” I said.
“Then why go on about Polly?”
“I’m not going on!” I pushed my plate away. “This egg is horrible! And you burnt the toast.”
“Don’t change the subject,” said Em. “I want to know what your problem is.”
“Haven’t got a problem!”
“Then why did you mention her?”
“I don’t know!”
I would have told her if I could, but I didn’t understand it myself. I didn’t have anything against Caroline. I was proud that Dad had found such a cool girlfriend. Tonight we’d go for a pizza and I just bet heads would turn to look at us. They wouldn’t ever turn to look at Polly. Or any of the rest of us. Just Caroline. Cos she was so smart and so together. She was my role model!
“Fact is,” said Em, “you can’t dictate who people are going to fall in love with. Dad’s in love with Caroline, and that’s all that matters.”
Fiercely I said, “Yes, and I’m glad – and I’m glad they’re going to get married! I’m looking forward to it.” I was! I really was. “Next time,” I said, “I’m going to do the eggs the way I like them.”
Em hunched a shoulder. “Whatever,” she said.
Now that Caroline was living with us we had a whole new set of rules. Well, not rules, exactly. More like suggestions. Things we might want to think about. Caroline said it wasn’t her place to turn our routine upside down, but …
Maybe it would be better if we did the washing-up as we went along, rather than letting it mount up on the draining board. Maybe it would be a good idea if we put the ironing in a special ironing basket rather than dumping it in great piles on the table. And how about putting old newspapers in the paper box and not leaving dirty cups and plates all over the place to gather mould?
She wasn’t unpleasant about it.
“It’s just an idea,” she’d say, picking up Em’s hockey boots and tossing them into the cupboard under the stairs. “You know what your dad’s like – if there was an elephant in the room he’d manage to trip over it. And maybe if we rinsed out cat-food tins before recycling them? What do you think? It’s not so bad now, but come summer there’ll be flies around. We don’t want maggots.”
You couldn’t really argue with her. As Em said, it all made sense. I wouldn’t have argued anyway, cos of promising to behave myself, though I did sort of mention it to Dad, just casually, not, like, complaining or anything.
“Did you know,” I said, “Caroline wants us to put everything away so’s you don’t fall over it?”
Dad said, “A wise precaution. I am a very clumsy person.”
“But even the ironing,” I said. “Nobody could fall over the ironing!”
“I probably could,” said Dad.
“But it’s on the table!”
“Ah, well, that’s clutter,” said Dad. “You have to remember, Caroline’s not used to living with clutter.”
I didn’t bother telling him about the cat-food tins and the maggots or any of the other stuff. He’d only say that Caroline wasn’t used to living with that sort of thing. I did try mentioning it – just mentioning it – to Cass, when I spoke to her on the phone, but she wasn’t at all sympathetic. She just laughed and said, “About time too!”
I said, “About time what?”
“About time someone imposed a bit of order.”
“You never did,” I said.
“That was a fault,” said Cass, “not a virtue. Learn to live with it! You’ve had it far too easy for far too long.”
Em agreed. She said I wasn’t being fair on Caroline.
“She’s only trying to keep the place looking nice. When we’re left to ourselves it’s just a mess. I mean, look at this!”
We were dusting and vacuuming again. We had to do it once a week now. Once a week! Caroline said, “It’s no use huffing and puffing, Flora! Houses don’t clean themselves.”
She didn’t say it crossly; she never got cross. She just had this huge obsession with things being scrubbed and polished and all put away in their right places.
“Look!” Em had pushed back a chair and was pointing rather hysterically, I thought, at something she had discovered underneath it.
I said, “What?”
“Look!” shrieked Em.
I looked. “Ugh, yuck!” I said. “Is that cat poo?”
“It’s a fur ball,” said Em. “I thought you were supposed to have vacuumed in here?”
I said, “I have! I did! She must have crept in and done it while my back was turned.”
“Excuse me,” said Em, “but Bella has been asleep on my bed all morning. She obviously did this days ago! It’s all dried up.”
“So what’s the big fuss?” I said. “If it’s just a fur ball?”
“The fuss is that you were supposed to have vacuumed!”
“Yes, but I don’t move the furniture,” I said.
“You mean you just go round it? Well!” Em sat back on her heels. “That’s the last time you get to do the vacuuming. You can stick to dusting in future!”
Triumphantly I said, “I don’t move things when I’m dusting, either, so ha!”
“You’re disgusting!” Em was clutching the fur ball in a paper hanky. She thrust it at me. “Go and put it in the bin.”
“Why me?” I said.
“Cos you’re the one that should have found it!”
Angrily, I snatched it from her. “Anyway,” I said, “I’d rather dust than vacuum now we’ve got proper dusters!”
I only said it to annoy her. We weren’t using old bits of rag any more – Caroline said we had to use real dusters. She said rags just moved the dust about from one place to another. The new dusters were bright yellow and soft. Em didn’t say anything, but I knew she didn’t really approve. She was as bad as Cass. If she had her way we would recycle everything from bits of string to old pairs of knickers. She is fearsomely committed. She says it’s all about saving the planet.
“Pish to the planet!” I stalked grandly from the room. I hoped it was grandly. It is not easy to be grand when you are round and short and called Pratt.
Em came storming after me. “What do you mean, Pish to the planet? And what kind of stupid word is that, anyway?”
I said, “Pish.” It was something I’d read in a book about olden times. It had somehow appealed to me. I liked the sound of it. Plus we are always being told at school to broaden our vocabulary.
Em looked at me darkly. “You’ll be sorry when we’ve got global warming going on all over the place.”
“What’s global warming got to do with dusters?”
“We don’t need dusters!”
“Caroline says we do. So there!” I yanked open the door of the cupboard under the sink and tossed Bella’s fur ball into the bin. I was about to slam the door shut when I saw a familiar-looking garment trailing out of the bag we put the rags in. Bright canary yellow with purple hoops. Dad’s football jersey! I dragged it out ind
ignantly. “What’s this doing in here?”
Dad doesn’t actually play football any more. He had to give it up when he slipped on an ice cube and broke his ankle. It wasn’t his fault! Anyone could slip on an ice cube if they didn’t realise it was there. You don’t expect ice cubes to be lying around in the middle of the kitchen floor. Poor Dad! He was so sad when he had to stop playing. His football jersey was one of his most treasured possessions. He wore it all the time.
“Why’s it in with the rags?” I said.
Em giggled. “Cos that’s what it is! It’s a rag.”
“But it’s Dad’s favourite,” I said. You don’t throw away your favourite clothes just cos they’re a bit old and faded. You wait till you grow out of them or till they fall to pieces. “It’s got to be a mistake,” I said.
I folded it lovingly, ready to give to Dad when he got home. He and Caroline had gone into town to do some shopping. Dad had never gone shopping when Cass was with us, but he seemed to like it with Caroline.
“Dad!” I rushed into the hall as soon as I heard the front door open. “Look what I found!”
“Ah,” said Caroline, “the famous football jersey.”
“It was in the rag bag!”
“Er … yes. Well.” Dad shot a sideways glance at Caroline, who laughed as she went through to the kitchen.
“It’s all right, you can tell them!”
“Tell us what?” said Em.
Dad cleared his throat. “Caroline thought it had probably reached the end of its natural life.”
I said, “Da-a-ad! Your football jersey!”
“I know, I know! It’s very sad. But I fear its time has come. Caroline says she can no longer bear to be seen with me when I’m wearing it. As from today,” said Dad, “I am a changed man!”
I said, “Changed how?”
“See for yourself.” Dad gestured to the bags that he and Caroline had brought in with them.
“Ooh, clothes!” said Em.
“It seems I’m to have a new look.” Dad said it sort of half proudly and half bashfully. “You need no longer be ashamed to be seen with me!”
“Dad, we never were,” I said.
“Blame it on me,” said Caroline, coming back into the room. “I am nothing but a nag and a bully!”
“She is.” Dad said it fondly, like he enjoyed being nagged and bullied. “She complained I looked like a carthorse shambling down the road.”
“It wasn’t just the clothes,” said Caroline. “It was the hair, sticking out all over the place.”
“You’ve had it cut!” said Em.
“Styled.” Caroline reached up and patted Dad’s head. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s lovely,” said Em.
“Flora?”
“I knew there was something different,” I said.
“Yes, but what do you think?”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” I said.
It just didn’t look like Dad.
At half term, as a special treat, Caroline took us up to town one afternoon to see The Lion King. Dad couldn’t come cos he was working, so it was just me and Em.
We’d never been on our own with Caroline before. It was very different from being with Cass. With Cass you could play around and have a giggle, and she would join in. Caroline was way more serious. And a whole lot stricter! Not that she told us off or anything, but on the train, when she thought I was making too much noise, she put a finger to her lips and went, “Flora! Shhh!” And when we reached London and I went racing ahead to the Underground she called to me quite sharply to come back.
“I don’t want to get home with only one of you! Your dad would never forgive me.”
Em said, “Dad got home with only one of us, once. He came to pick me up from school and left Bitsy behind in the playground.”
“Yes, well,” said Caroline, “that’s your dad for you, absent-minded professor! I’m a business-woman, I’m supposed to have more sense. So let’s all keep together. Please! London’s a big place, it’s very easy to get lost.”
I felt like boasting that I’d been to London loads of times with Cass and that she’d never minded if I skipped ahead or went racing off by myself. But I didn’t cos it wouldn’t have been polite. Dad had made a big deal about Caroline taking a day off work specially to be with us. He didn’t actually say that I should make an effort to behave myself, but I knew that was what he meant. People are always telling me to behave myself. I can’t understand why. They never tell Em to behave herself. Probably because she tends to keep her feelings all bottled up and everyone thinks she is so good and patient. My feelings just whoosh about all over the place, and so I get this totally undeserved reputation. Even Cass had accused me of being a little monster. But I’m not! I’m really not! I can be just as good and patient as Em if I set my mind to it.
I didn’t say a word when Caroline made us stand still on the escalator instead of galloping down, which is what I like to do. I didn’t even complain when she insisted I took her hand as we crossed the road, even though it made me feel like I was five years old. She was only trying to be a good stepmum.
“It’s such a pity your dad isn’t here,” she said, as we reached the theatre. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing!”
I opened my mouth to say that Dad didn’t really go for musicals, but immediately shut it again before any words could come blurting out. I absolutely can control myself.
As it happened, Caroline was right. Dad really didn’t know what he was missing! The Lion King was without doubt the most brilliant and amazing show I had ever seen. Excitedly, as we left the theatre, I told Caroline that it had to be my A1 favourite musical.
“Of all time. Ever!”
Caroline seemed pleased. She said, “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
I was glad too. Not just that I’d enjoyed it, but that Caroline was pleased. It’s nice when you’ve made someone happy. She’d made me happy and I’d made her happy!
Dad was waiting to meet us at the station.
“How did it go?” he said. “Did you have a good time?”
I knew he was bracing himself, expecting me to have some kind of grumble, like We couldn’t hear properly, We couldn’t see properly, I was bored.
“Well?” said Dad. “What’s the verdict?”
“Brilliant!” I said. “My favourite musical ever!”
A big beam spread itself across Dad’s face. “That is good news,” he said.
So now I’d made Dad happy, everyone was happy!
“Let’s go and rustle up something for dinner,” said Caroline, as we arrived home. “What do you two girls fancy?”
Eagerly I cried, “Egg and chips!”
“Oh, Flora.” Caroline looked at me reproachfully. “You’ve already had a KitKat.”
“Only a small one,” I pleaded. I’d got hungry on the way home. I had to eat something.
“Is egg and chips what you used to have with Cass?”
“Just once a week,” said Em.
We hadn’t even had them once since Caroline came. Caroline shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe anyone would eat egg and chips ever.
“I suppose she let you have those dreadful fattening lemon things for pudding as well?”
Oh! I knew she hadn’t liked them.
“We wouldn’t have had egg and chips and lemon possets,” said Em. “Not both at the same time.”
“I’m relieved to hear it! I’m just surprised Cass let you have them at all, seeing as she’s such a food freak.”
Earnestly, Em said, “She’s not a freak. Truly! She just doesn’t believe in eating animals.”
“Yet she didn’t mind you stuffing yourselves with chips and cream and sugar. Honestly, Emily, it’s so bad for you!”
Em bit her lip. She’d already told me that she didn’t like being called Emily; she didn’t think it sounded friendly. I was getting quite used to Flora. I liked it! I’d even suggested it to Lottie, only she seemed quite incapable of rememb
ering.
“Let’s have something easy,” said Caroline. “How about salad?”
Em said, “Yesss!”
Em likes salad. Especially lettuce. How can anybody like lettuce? It doesn’t taste of anything. You might just as well chew grass. Em’s eating habits are very peculiar. More like those of a rabbit than a human being. She has even been known to eat lettuce sandwiches.
Glumly I watched as she and Caroline started laying out tomatoes and radishes and other hugely exciting bits of vegetable matter. Cucumbers, for example. Yuck! I loathe cucumbers.
“What about afters?” I said.
“Got any suggestions?”
She obviously wouldn’t let me make lemon possets. And it wasn’t any use looking in the fridge. When Cass had been in charge you could always rely on finding something exciting in there. Little pots of cheesecake, or trifle, or Black Forest gateau. Caroline never bought anything yummy. All I could find was yoghurt. Plain yoghurt. Low fat.
“No ideas?” said Caroline, chopping away at a pepper. Peppers are something else I loathe. Peppers and cucumbers and onions. Yuck yuck yuck! “How about we make a fresh fruit salad? You can have your silly pretend cream on it, if you want.”
She meant soya cream. I knew she didn’t really like soya cream; she thought it was just another of Em’s food fads. But it made Em ever so happy!
Dad and Caroline had prawns with their salad. Dad ate meat all the time now. He said that we didn’t have to eat it if we didn’t want to.
“It’s entirely up to you. Nobody’s going to force you.”
Em said, “But, Dad, you’re a vegetarian!”
“Not really,” said Dad. “I only did it to keep Cass happy.”
“But how can you bear it? It would make me feel sick!”
Poor Em was quite distressed. Even I was a bit shocked.
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you?” Caroline speared a prawn on the end of her fork and waggled it in front of us. “Your dad’s enjoying them.”
Em and I both swivelled our eyes reproachfully in Dad’s direction.
“Oh, now don’t look at him like that! You’ll make him feel guilty,” said Caroline, “and that’s not fair. After all these years being forced to eat nothing but vegetables!”
