Following Flora

by Natasha Farrant

  “I don’t care about my exams!” Flora shouted. “I want to be an actress and get as far away from my life as possible!”

  We all crept down to see what was going on. She was standing in the hall, dripping water everywhere because she doesn’t have an umbrella either, yelling at Mum on her phone because she just learned that she got the part she auditioned for weeks ago, but Mum won’t let her do it because the play opens right in the middle of Flora’s exams.

  “WELL I DON’T EXACTLY APPROVE OF YOU HAVING A BABY!” Flora was yelling, which is when Grandma took her phone.

  “I’LL TAKE CARE OF THIS END, CASSIE!” Grandma shouts even louder than normal when she’s on the phone. “THE MOST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW IS FOR YOU TO STAY CALM!”

  After she had hung up, Grandma gave us all a lecture. With Mum in the state she’s in, Grandma says, we must be model children. “That means NO SHOUTING,” she said. “No mud, no stomping, no moping over boyfriends.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I am not moping over him. If anyone ever listened to me . . .”

  “And no interrupting,” said Grandma, and told us all to go away while she gave some serious thought to what she was going to do with us because it was obvious we all needed a distraction.

  I went down to find her in her room when the others had all gone to bed, and told her about Jake and the milk shake. Her reaction was almost exactly the same as Dodi’s. She said it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard and she had never been more proud of me. Then she said that Jake was a snake, a rat, and a scoundrel, and asked me if I was very upset.

  I thought about my answer very carefully. “I am upset,” I said. “But not as much as I think I should be. Mainly I just feel really, really stupid.”

  Grandma said Jake was the one who was stupid, preferring anyone to her granddaughter, and then she started to chuckle and said, “Oh to have been a fly on the wall at the Home Sweet Home when you threw the milk shake.” I just heard her go into the bathroom, and she was still laughing.

  Going out with someone because you feel a bit sorry for them is a really bad idea. Next year is going to be different, I’ve decided. Next year I am only going to do things I actually want to do.

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31

  WHOLESOME EXERCISE is what Grandma has decided to do with us, and so today she marched us all over to Jas’s stables for a riding lesson.

  We found Gloria huddled over a gas fire in the tack room going through a wad of papers with a calculator on her knee.

  “Bills,” Flora whispered. “Red ones.”

  Gloria sighed when she saw us and explained that if we were good enough she would take us for a ride on the common, but that for our first day we had to pass a test to make sure it was safe and the first thing we should do was tack up the horses. She showed us which ponies we were riding, and then the phone rang and she marched back to the tack room and left us with water dripping down our necks, because obviously it was still raining, clutching saddles and reins and wondering which bits went where.

  “You heard her,” Grandma said. “Get on with it.”

  “I have no idea what to do,” Twig said.

  “You are here to learn,” Grandma said.

  “I know what to do,” Jas said.

  “This is a terrible place,” Flora announced.

  “It’s a community project,” Grandma corrected her. “It was set up to help children in need.”

  “Are we children in need?” asked Twig.

  “I am,” Flora grumbled under her breath. “In need of dry clothes, a boyfriend who calls me back, and a grandmother who isn’t insane.”

  As far as the riding went, we were all hopeless except Jas. The only lessons we have ever had before have been with Grandma and boil down to GO FASTER AND DON’T FALL OFF, but Gloria has a different approach. She made us practice all sorts of exercises like figure eight and changing reins and other stuff none of us understood, first walking, then trotting, until our legs ached and our brains were completely confused.

  “I thought that was quite fascinating,” Grandma said, when the lesson was over.

  “I’m afraid I can’t come back,” Flora told Gloria firmly. “I’m doing my finals in the summer and I have to study really, really hard.”

  Twig, who fell off more times than anybody else, said that now he was playing on a team he really had to focus on his football. I wanted to say I couldn’t come either, because I have decided that I really, really don’t like horses, but I didn’t want to disappoint Grandma, and also I remembered the calculator and the papers and the way Gloria sighed when we arrived. So instead I said I would love to come back next weekend with Jas and join her regular lesson.

  Flora checked her phone again on the way home, but there were still no messages from Zach.

  “Do you think he’s had an accident?” Jas asked.

  “Maybe he fell under a train.” Twig was on my laptop looking at train timetables online. I know for a fact he finds trains really, really boring, but Maisie has asked him to babysit her little brother again on Monday after school starts, and Twig is determined to impress the kid with his extensive knowledge. Dodi, who is fascinated by Twig’s love life, says surely he must realize how Maisie is using him, but Twig swears she’s not like that.

  “Maybe he was standing on a railway bridge,” Twig said now, “and it was raining, and he leaned over a bit too much and slipped under the four twenty-three from Paddington.”

  “Could that happen?” Jas looked horrified.

  “I think it’s quite unlikely,” I said. “And I’m sure Zoran would have told us.”

  “CAN YOU PLEASE ALL STOP TALKING ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND LIKE HE’S DEAD?” Flora yelled.

  “Loads of people fall under trains,” Twig said.

  Jas said Twig’s new hobby was horrible and that Maisie Carter wasn’t even pretty. Twig said she was. Jas said she wasn’t. Twig said anyway, it was none of her business. Jas said he was making it her business by being so annoying. Flora said that if they didn’t shut up she’d push them both under the nearest train.

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1: NEW YEAR’S DAY

  It’s half past midnight, and it’s a brand-new year.

  Flora did go out with Tamsin in the end. They went into town to see the fireworks. Dodi’s staying over. She said Colin had invited her to his parents’ annual New Year’s Eve party, but she didn’t go because she knew Jake was going to be there. Grandma ordered Chinese takeout and baked a three-layer red velvet cake with cream cheese vanilla and ginger icing, and we ate the whole thing in front of the TV watching the countdown, while Jas tried to teach the kittens to ride my old skateboard. The list of things Jas is trying to teach the kittens is growing longer by the day. So far, they have failed to learn to come when they are called, to only do their business in the litter box, not to climb up curtains, and to sit on command.

  “They’re a lot less trainable than the rats,” Jas complained. “I could get them to do almost anything.”

  Personally, I thought skateboarding was overly ambitious, but Twig found a sort of solution by putting Hermione on the board when she was asleep and launching her across the room before she could wake up. It didn’t last very long, because she was awake within about half a second and flew from skateboard to beneath the sofa so fast she was almost just a blur, but it was funny. Jas said that it wasn’t proper training at all, but even she laughed.

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 3

  Mum and Dad came home last night. Dad took Grandma to the station early this morning, but her leaving has been completely overshadowed by what has happened to Flora.

  Mum and Flora both went back to bed after Grandma left, so only Twig, Jas, and I were up when the post arrived with a letter for Flora.

  It came in a bright green envelope which was posted in Glasgow, and we all had a good look at it because it’s quite rare for any o
f us to get actual mail. Then when Flora finally got up, we crowded onto the landing to watch as she picked it up from the table in the hall.

  “Perhaps it’s from Zach,” whispered Jas.

  “It’s from Scotland,” said Twig.

  “Shh!” I said. Down beneath us, Flora had opened the envelope and was standing stock-still, reading. When she finished, she leaned against the wall, staring into nothing. Then she read it again.

  “Do you think it is from Zach?” Jas insisted.

  “Do you really think Zach would send a letter in a bright green envelope?” I asked.

  “Perhaps it’s all he could find,” she said. “Perhaps it’s his favorite color.”

  “Mum! Mum! MUM!” Flora yelled.

  “She’s still sleeping,” I called down as softly as I could.

  Flora tore past me into Mum’s room.

  “Read this!” Flora shouted, and shoved the letter under Mum’s nose.

  Mum moaned, “Flora, I am asleep.”

  “Then listen!”

  Flora brandished the letter, which was also bright green, waving it about until she had our full attention, and then she began to read.

  “‘Dear Miss Gadsby,

  We were most impressed by your recent audition. It was a very ambitious role, and we felt that you would have tackled it well. What a shame the production coincides with your A-Level timetable, though of course it goes without saying that your exams must come first . . .’”

  “I did tell you,” Mum murmured, but Flora ignored her.

  “‘You may know that three years ago I set up a new training facility for young actors such as yourself. Foundation courses run September to June, and I am writing now to offer you a place for next year. These places are very limited, so please let me know as soon as possible if you are interested. You will find all the relevant information concerning dates, accommodations, and fees in the accompanying information leaflet. Yours sincerely, Thomasina Foulkes-Watson.’”

  Flora was shouting louder than Grandma by the end of the letter.

  “Who,” Mum croaked, “is Thomasina Foulkes-Watson?”

  “Thomasina Foulkes-Watson,” Flora announced, “is probably the most influential talent scout, casting consultant, and producer of new plays in Britain. Her school is amazing. You have to be invited to go, and all the best actors teach there. It’s like being given a place at . . . Oxford or Cambridge or Harvard or something.”

  “But you’re going to King’s.” Mum was completely awake now. “They offered you a place and you’re starting in October and you’re going to read English and drama.”

  Flora stared back down at her letter before replying. She folded it very carefully and put it back in its envelope, and then she said, very softly, “No, I’m not.”

  She and Mum looked at each other for ages.

  “No,” Mum said at last. She put both her hands on her tummy, like she was asking the baby what it thought of all this, then she held one out to Flora. “No,” she repeated. “I can see you’re not.”

  I crept down to the kitchen with Twig and Jas. Twig hasn’t baked anything for a while, but I found a packet of chocolate biscuits in the cupboard. We squeezed up on the sofa to eat them.

  “It’s all very exciting,” I said.

  “She’s going to live in Scotland?” asked Jas.

  “I can’t imagine this house without Flora,” said Twig, and we were all silent for a while, trying to picture it and failing.

  I just went out because as I was writing I thought I heard crying from Flora’s room, and I was right. She was lying in bed, fully dressed, with the duvet over her head and her face pressed into the pillow. I thought about stroking her hair, but you can never be too sure how Flora is going to react to things like that, so I just sat down next to her instead.

  “Why aren’t you happy?” I asked.

  “I am!” she sniffed.

  “You sound it,” I said. She poked her head out from under the covers. Her face was all puffy, with little salt tracks from her tears and mascara halfway down her cheeks.

  “You look it too,” I said. Flora sniffed even louder.

  “Of course I’m happy,” she said, and then her lip started to wobble again and these big fat tears began to splash down her face. I had to lean really close to work out what she was saying.

  “It’s Zach,” she wailed finally between sobs. “If I go away to Scotland, it means we’re definitely over.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. I didn’t think it was the right time to talk to her about the fickleness of men, especially given Zach’s current uncommunicative behavior. “There are loads of very successful long-distance relationships,” I told her.

  “Name one,” Flora wailed. I said well, look at all those men who went off to the First World War and spent four years in trenches with their wives waiting faithfully for them at home. Flora said that didn’t exactly make her feel better since most of them died, and what was she going to do if he did fall under a train and did I think that was possible?

  “It’s possible,” I said. “But like I said the other day, I think it’s very unlikely.”

  “Don’t go,” she sniffed. She wriggled to the edge of her bed and I lay down next to her.

  “Boys are rubbish,” I whispered.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “But I do love him so much. Is it true you threw a milk shake over Jake?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Tamsin’s mum told us. She heard it from a friend of Jake’s mum. I should have said something sooner, but you know . . .” She gave me a watery smile. “Way to go, little sister,” she said. And then she started crying again.

  I stayed there for ages, long after Flora stopped crying and went to sleep. I thought Dodi would probably have told everyone, but I can’t believe it’s got as far as Tamsin’s mum. There are just two days left till school starts again. Basically, someone has to do something massively dramatic, or the whole world is going to be talking about me.

  Flora flipped over in her sleep and nearly hit me in the face. I slipped out from under her duvet and pulled it up around her shoulders. I wish there was something I could do for her, but I don’t think an accidental meeting in the park would work a second time.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 4

  I have found out why Zach means so much to Jas. She told me everything when we went back to the stables this afternoon and were brushing our horses down afterward. Their stalls are side by side, with wooden bars you can talk through, and Jas said could she ask me a question. Then she asked did I think Zach and Flora had split up, and if so, did that mean we would never see Zach again?

  I said I didn’t know.

  “Do you think they will?”

  I said maybe, when she goes to Scotland. I’d like to think mere distance wouldn’t come between them, but look at me and Jake. I mean I know Australia is a lot farther than Scotland, but he was gone less than a month and he fell in love with Talullah on the second day. And then I heard Jas sniff and I asked, “Are you crying?” and she said no, she was perfectly fine, just a bit allergic to horses.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said, and then she started to cry properly.

  “I tried to call him!” she sniffed. “I got his number from Flora’s phone, but he didn’t answer, and I left a message but he hasn’t called back, and I need him!”

  I really thought I knew what was wrong with her then. I wanted to say to her, “It’s perfectly natural to have a crush on your older sister’s boyfriend, trust me it happens all the time,” except I wasn’t sure if she knew about me liking Flora’s old boyfriend Joss last year, and if she didn’t I would rather it stayed that way.

  “He’s the only one who ever LISTENS to me,” Jas cried through her tears. And that is when she told me everything, and it is nothing I would have guessed in a mill
ion years.

  Jas is a poet.

  And Zach is the only person who has ever read her poems.

  “He really liked them,” she said. “He said I had ‘definite talent.’ He was going to . . .”

  “Going to what?” I asked.

  “There’s this competition,” Jas said. “I read about it in the newspaper. He was helping me with it, and now I’ve got to the actual final, and I have to perform it, stand up and recite it and everything, and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

  I stared at her in astonishment.

  “That’s wonderful, Jas,” I told her.

  “But what am I going to do?” she cried

  “About what?”

  “I asked you for help before but you weren’t interested,” Jas said. “Nobody is ever interested. It’s all oh my boyfriend my acting career my hair gel my documentary my baby. It’s never, EVER about me. Zach is the only one who cared and even he must have been pretending because now he’s GONE!”

  “Do you mind about the baby?” I asked.

  “Of course not!” she said. “Do you?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “I’m just sick of being the youngest,” said Jas. “It used to be fun, but then you get left behind. At least once the baby’s born people might stop treating me like a little kid and leave me alone.”

  Jas is clearly as confused about the baby as I am.

  “When we get home,” I said, “let’s tell the parents about the competition. Dad’s a writer. Maybe he can help.”

  “If you tell Mum and Dad I write poetry,” Jas said, “I swear I will never, ever speak to you again.”

  My pony was growing restless. I’d stopped brushing her to talk to Jas, and I think she was wondering what I was still doing in her box. She nudged me with her head like she was pushing me toward the door.

  “I don’t understand why you need Zach,” I said. “I mean, I can understand you’re sad he’s not around to hear about it and everything, but you’re in the final now. I bet you’ll even win.”