Breakfast at Sadie's

by Lee Weatherly

  He did it, but he was not filled with joy. He was far too young to know half the words he was muttering to himself.

  The Industrial Revolution

  That night I sat at my desk staring at my homework. With the end of term looming, some of the teachers were going berserk. There was an RE essay that I couldn't copy off Hannah, and an essay for history that I had to do as well – loads of stuff. I felt nauseous just thinking about it all.

  The Industrial Revolution was a watershed time in English history. Discuss three ways in which it affected day-to-day life. For instance, how did it affect the average housewife doing the shopping?

  All at once an idea flew into my head, and I sat staring at the book without seeing it. Of course! How totally obvious!

  Taking a fresh sheet of paper, I made up a menu, listing everything we offered for breakfast – hash browns, bacon, tomatoes, the lot. I had noticed that some people told you when they didn't want something, like no mushrooms or whatever, but other people didn't, they just left what they didn't want on their plates. And that was a waste of food, wasn't it?

  Please tick the items you would like for breakfast, and put this list outside your door before 7 a.m. This will let us prepare the meal to your complete satisfaction.

  Perfect, that made it sound like I was doing them a favour. But if we knew that someone never wanted mushrooms, and they stayed for a week, then we could save almost a pound. And that was only one person. I bet we could save hundreds of pounds a year, doing this!

  My gaze fell on my history book again, and the elation drained out of me. I pushed the paper to one side.

  Yeah, great idea. Shame I was so thick when it came to school.

  Take Your Cozzies

  ‘Here you go – two Full English Breakfasts.’ I smiled at the last two guests as I put their plates in front of them. Mr and Mrs Chambers, from Cardiff. They had checked in the day before, and they looked like twins, with the same dark hair and matching sports shirts.

  ‘We were wondering if we could have a quick word with your aunt?’ said Mrs Chambers as she unfolded her swan.

  My smile hardly even wavered. Another week had passed, and I had miraculously managed not to get caught. I was a complete pro at deflecting this question now. ‘Oh, I'm afraid you've just missed her – she's gone to the shops.’

  Mr Chambers took a sip of orange juice. ‘Well, maybe you could help us. We were just wondering what there is to do in the area.’

  At first it felt like when one of the teachers called on me in class, but then I said slowly, ‘Well – there's the Coast Path; that's really good.’

  Their eyes lit up. ‘Oh, have you been on it?’ said Mrs Chambers.

  ‘Yes, loads of times. It starts practically just outside our door. Once, my dad and I even hiked all the way down to Dartmouth.’

  ‘But isn't it awfully difficult?’ asked Mr Chambers.

  ‘No, it's fine if you have the right shoes.’

  Suddenly they were throwing loads of questions at me. They even got out a guidebook, so I could show them the places where the path got really steep. (There are bits you practically fall down instead of walking down.)

  ‘There's an old quarry on a side-trail about a mile from here, just before Berry Head; we used to go poking around in there sometimes. And then there's a great beach just about here.’ I pointed at their book. ‘You should take your cozzies if you go. It's freezing, but it feels fantastic when you're all hot and sweaty.’ I grinned, remembering Dad floating on his back in the ocean, spraying water up like a whale.

  ‘Thanks, Sadie, that's great.’ Mr Chambers stood up finally, pushing his empty plate away.

  ‘Yes, that's brilliant – we'll take your advice.’ His wife smiled at me as they left the room, and I started gathering their plates up. And then I got back into the kitchen and saw the clock, and my smile faded like melting butter.

  It was after nine o’clock.

  ‘No!’ I gasped. ‘Marcus, why didn't you tell me what time it was?’

  ‘What?’ He looked up from the computer, blinking.

  Calm. This is not a big deal. All you have to do is ring the school; you've done it before. Filling my lungs with Aunt-Leona air, I picked up the phone and dialled.

  ‘Good morning, Drake Secondary.’

  ‘Yes, hello. This is Leona Harris, Sadie Pollock's aunt—’

  ‘ Oh, yes, hello. We were just about to ring.’ Mrs Clark sounded like she was chewing a lemon.

  Icy needles scattered over my arms. ‘Yes, um, Sadie's going to be late this morning. She had to – help me out with something, but she'll be in soon.’

  I hung up before Mrs Clark could say anything else, and then stared at the phone. I had a very, very bad feeling about this. Why hadn't I just said I was ill, and taken the day off?

  Withered Old Crone

  I walked the long way to school, going around the building so that I could avoid the front doors completely. The door beside the library was silent, abandoned. I eased it open and hurried through the corridors, my footsteps raining around me. Oh God, please don't let me run into Vampira again.

  I was in luck; there was no sign of her. But then when I got to my class, the Battleship stopped talking and stared at me. ‘Yes, Sadie?’

  ‘Um – sorry I'm late, miss.’

  She looked at me for a long moment, her arms crossed over her chest. I stood tightly in the doorway, waiting for the nuclear warhead to explode.

  ‘Do you have your homework?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Hannah had done her maths the day before, when we had a library period, and Tara and I had copied it then.

  ‘Give it here, please.’ She held out a wrinkled hand.

  I could feel everyone watching me as I fumbled with the zip on my rucksack. Finally I managed to pull the paper out of my folder, and handed it to her. She took it and went over to her desk, leaning over a pile of papers.

  What was going on? I glanced over at Hannah and Tara. Both of their faces were on fire, and Tara looked like she was about to cry. Behind me, I could feel Milly trying to catch my eye. I didn't look at her.

  The Battleship straightened up. ‘Thank you, Sadie,’ she said coldly. ‘Please sit down now.’

  I swallowed and sat down, not looking at anyone. Had she sussed that I was cheating? But why hadn't she said anything if she had? My lungs clenched. Oh God, what if Mum found out I had been cheating?

  The lesson droned on like nothing had happened. Except that it was obvious something had. Hannah, Tara and I sat silently at our table, not even looking at each other. The Battleship totally ignored all three of us.

  When the bell rang, I grabbed my things together and walked quickly out of the room, expecting the Battleship to call me back with every step. But she didn't say a word.

  Which was almost scarier.

  Out in the corridor, I clutched Hannah's arm. ‘What happened?’

  Her cheeks were pink. We started walking to history, pushing through the crowded hallways. ‘Not much. She just made a big deal of comparing Tara's paper to mine, and said wasn't it interesting that we both missed the same problems. I told her that we always study together, that's all. She can't prove anything.’

  My heart fell onto the floor. ‘But you told her that I study with you too, right?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, of course,’ said Hannah quickly. Tara glanced at her, and didn't say anything.

  ‘Listen, don't worry, she can't prove anything.’ Hannah shook her hair back from her face. ‘She's just a withered-up old crone; who would believe her?’

  That Awful Industrial Powder

  At lunch time I galloped home as usual, bursting through the door and racing up the stairs with hardly even a pause. Marcus barely looked up from the computer as I raced past.

  Make up the beds, change the towels, clean the bathrooms. Marcus had really got his bit down pat, I had to give him that – the carpets were all clean, and the tea and coffee caddies had all been refilled. He probably had a
scientific formula for doing them, so that he could get back to his beloved computer as fast as possible.

  I leaned over the bathtub in Room Five, wiping it down. The cloth left a shiny trail in its wake.

  ‘Could we have some clean towels, please?’

  My skeleton almost leaped out of my skin as I whirled round. Mrs Dumont stood in the doorway behind me. Blimey, I hadn't even heard her come in! Her room had been the first one I'd done, and she hadn't been there then.

  The bathtub's rim chilled my arm as I twisted to look at her. ‘I've – I've already done your room.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘So – well, I mean, you already have clean towels.’

  Her lips minced together as she shook her head. ‘No, dear, the towels in our room are not what I would call clean.’

  My cheeks blazed as I saw her take in my school uniform and raise her eyebrows. What was she even doing here? Guests always went out during the day! It was gorgeous outside!

  ‘I'm sorry, I'll replace them,’ I managed. But when I went to her room a few minutes later, she peered at the fresh towels in my arms and sighed.

  ‘My dear, is this the best that we can do? Hmm?’

  ‘They've just been washed—’

  ‘With that awful industrial powder, no doubt. May I speak to your aunt, please?’

  ‘My—’

  ‘She is the one running things, isn't she?’ Mrs Dumont squinted at me. Behind her, I could see her husband, lying on the bed reading a paper.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I gasped. ‘Only – she's doing the shopping now, so she's not here. And she's been a bit poorly, that's why I'm helping out. I'm sixteen,’ I added, flinging it at her.

  ‘I see,’ was all she said. She gave me a smile that was more like a grimace, and took the towels from me. ‘Well, tell her that I expect proper towels in future.’

  The Rain in Spain

  I was late back from lunch again that afternoon, but only by a minute or so, and I wasn't even the only one, for a change – Brian Vickery huffed into history a few seconds after I did.

  I sat in the back with Hannah and Tara. Without even asking me, Hannah pulled her science homework out of her bag and edged it towards me, half-hiding it under my exercise book.

  I looked down at it. It felt like my ribs were two sizes too small. Without meaning to, I glanced over at Milly, and flushed when I saw she was watching me. Her eyes flicked down to the paper on my desk, and she shrugged and turned away.

  ‘Right, everyone!’ At the front of the room, Mrs Hough clapped her hands. ‘Let's have a geography quiz question to warm you up.’

  ‘Are you sure I should?’ I whispered to Hannah. ‘I mean—’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘Well, not if you don't want to. Why, have you already done it?’

  Oh, forget Milly! And forget the Battleship; she would have said something in class if she was going to turn us in. I pulled the paper towards me and started to copy.

  ‘Ready?’ said Mrs Hough. ‘What's the principal mountain range of Spain, bordering with France?’

  My head came up as I looked at her, remembering the two oldies and their cycling trip in Spain.

  ‘Come on, people. Mountain range in Spain . . .’ Her eyes twinkled.

  Hardly believing I was doing it, I raised my hand. Mrs Hough pointed at me. ‘Sadie! Yes, what do you think?’

  ‘It's the Pyrenees, miss.’

  ‘Exactly right; good girl. Write that down, everyone – you never know; it just might be a bonus question on your next exam. Now, let's go over the reading from last night . . .’

  Milly twisted round to look at me again, and gave me a smile with her eyebrows up, like – Hey, not bad!

  Making up my mind suddenly, I pushed Hannah's paper back towards her. She and Tara were both staring at me. ‘Um, here. I'll just – do it myself, and see how I get on.’

  I'd Be Very Low-Key

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ I sat on the edge of her hospital bed, kissing her cheek. The sun was streaming in, angling across the bed. There was a vase of fresh daffodils from Tricia's florist shop on Mum's bedside table, and a couple of get-well cards.

  She widened her eyes at me, smiling.

  I rubbed her hand, feeling strangely happy all of the sudden. ‘You know what I was remembering today? I was thinking about Dad's Hollywood Extravaganza nights.’ That's what Dad used to call it when he'd rent old movies for us to watch. ‘We used to make popcorn, remember?’

  Mum blinked yes, keeping her eyes on mine.

  ‘And remember when we watched Gone with the Wind, and at first you said it was too long to bother with? But then by the end we were both crying. And Dad pretended to be that actor, Clark something, and made us laugh.’ I lowered my voice. ‘ Frankly, my dear . . . remember?’

  Mum's eyes shone softly, and I smiled, remembering. It was funny – we hardly ever talked about Dad at home, because Mum's face always went so stiff and sad when I tried to. But somehow everything had changed since she went into Intensive Care. I don't know how, but I knew that she wanted to hear about Dad as much as I wanted to talk about him.

  ‘And do you remember when—’

  ‘Sadie! Oh, good, you're here.’ I turned around as Tricia came into the room, pulling up a chair and sitting beside me.

  ‘How are you, Celia, all right?’ Tricia leaned forward and squeezed Mum's arm with a smile before turning back to me. ‘Sadie, I was with Celia for some time yesterday, and she spelled out a message for you – at least, I assume it's for you. She wants to know where Leona is.’

  The world stopped. I could feel Mum's eyes on me.

  ‘She – she's at home,’ I stammered. I didn't dare look at Mum.

  Tricia took a piece of paper from her handbag. ‘Here, I wrote it down. The full message is, Where's Leona, it's been ages. Not this busy. Which sounds like you don't think Leona is really too busy to see you, is that right, Celia?’

  Yes, from Mum.

  Heat prickled across my face. Hadn't Aunt Leona rung, then? She had promised! ‘Um – well, the thing is, I guess she's still sort of upset about having to run Grace's. I mean, she's got loads better at it, and everything's going really well, but – but I don't think she wants to come see you yet.’

  I risked a glance at Mum. Her mouth was turned down slightly, her eyes thoughtful.

  No, she blinked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ My heart pounded in my chest like a caged tiger trying to escape.

  No.

  ‘Mum, it's true!’ I whirled in my seat to look at Tricia. ‘Tricia, honestly, that's all there is to it. There's nothing – nothing bad going on; everything's fine.’

  Tricia stroked Mum's hand. ‘Celia, would you like me to go and check, and meet this sister of yours?’

  Yes.

  ‘You can't!’ I blurted out. ‘I mean – I mean, Mum, you know what Aunt Leona's like – she'll get in a huge strop if you send someone to check up on her!’

  ‘Oh, I'd be very low-key,’ put in Tricia.

  I kept my eyes on Mum's face. ‘Mum, please! I'll try to get her to come and see you, but you know what she's like – just let her get on with things in her own way, you know that's the best thing.’

  We stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Mum blinked yes again.

  Tricia leaned forward. ‘Celia, is that yes, you agree with Sadie? Or yes, you'd like me to go and check? Blink if it's the first one.’

  Yes, blinked Mum.

  I let out a breath, and fell back into my seat.

  ‘Well, we'll leave it for now.’ Tricia put the piece of paper back in her handbag. ‘But Celia, let me know if you change your mind.’

  Message from the Beach

  Please pick up! Please, please! I sat on my bed gripping the cordless extension as Aunt Leona's mobile buzzed in my ear. At least it was ringing this time. And ringing. It felt like each ring was etching itself on my skull.

  I held the phone to my ear and stared down at my duvet cover. It was cream-coloured, wit
h bright red swirls on it.

  ‘Hello?’ Aunt Leona's voice was faint and crackly.

  I sat bolt upright. ‘It's me, Sadie!’

  ‘Sadie! Hi, how are you? Ron and I just got back from snorkelling. It's so amazing here; there's this crystal-clear water, and—’

  I clutched the phone. ‘Aunt Leona, I've been trying to ring you! Did you ring Mum?’

  Her voice faded in and out of static. ‘Oh, Sadie, I tried – I rang the hospital like I said, but they said that she couldn't talk on the phone easily, and would I leave a message for her, so then I thought I'd better have a think about exactly what to say, so I told them I'd ring back, and—’

  ‘Yes, but did you?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Because she's asking where you are! She's going to send someone round to check!’

  Aunt Leona's voice faded for a moment, and then came back. ‘. . . someone to check? Who, for God's sake?’

  ‘This woman, this GBS volunteer – Aunt Leona, you have to come home!’

  ‘I can't, I've told you! My flight's not for another week and a bit. But Sadie, you have to keep holding the fort, OK?’

  I wrenched the duvet cover between my fingers as wetness stung at my eyes. ‘I have been! But I'm about to be found out, I know it, and I don't know what that will do to Mum—’

  ‘ Do to her? What do you mean?’

  ‘You can die from GBS, if there're complications! And if I'm caught here, you could be arrested, and I'd be put in care, and—’

  Aunt Leona's voice grew high-pitched, competing with the static. ‘Sadie, you can't let anyone know! Because I could get in loads of trouble, and it wasn't my fault, really—’

  ‘Oh, wasn't it!’

  ‘No! I mean, I shouldn't have come here, but I realized that, only it was too late!’

  Too late. Everything crashed together in my mind. The Battleship, Mum. How totally empty the flat was. I hugged myself, words choking to dust in my throat.