The Penderwicks on Gardam Street

by Jeanne Birdsall

  Wham! Jane crossed the ball past Melissa and directly to Skye, unnoticed Skye, cunning Skye, who in a move worthy of the greatest—a Pelé or a Hamm—danced past a startled defender, raised her arms in triumph, and neatly scored. Antonio’s Pizza had won the game, and the season.

  The roar of the crowd—and particularly of the Penderwicks—penetrated then even to Rosalind. She roused herself and looked down at Ben, who looked back up at her, smiling, for he was awake now, too, and then she looked out onto the field and saw that something odd was happening. Antonio’s Pizza was on one half of the field, jumping up and down and screeching in triumph, and Cameron Hardware was on the other half, wandering around with their heads hanging in humiliation. That was all normal. But in the middle—where no one should have been—were the two team captains. They weren’t beating each other up. They didn’t even seem to be arguing. They were—talking? And if Rosalind wasn’t mistaken, now Melissa was crying. And now—this was beyond imagining—Skye was putting an arm around Melissa. It was perhaps the briefest and most reluctant hug ever known to mankind, but it was a hug, nonetheless. If that really just happened, Rosalind thought, anything in this world can happen. She picked up Ben and joined her family and Iantha.

  A moment later, Skye trotted off the field and graciously accepted everyone’s proud congratulations and handshakes. Then Aunt Claire asked, “What happened out there with Melissa?”

  “Oh, that.” Skye looked disgusted. “She had some stuff to tell me.”

  “What stuff? That is, if it’s private, you don’t have to tell us.”

  “It’s not private, it’s just stupid.” But Skye looked round at everyone, and it seemed that they’d all seen the hug and wanted an explanation, even her father, who usually didn’t notice things like that, and Iantha, who was too polite to ask. Skye heaved a great sigh, then said what she had to say in a great rush. “Melissa said that she didn’t hate me at all, but that she’s been jerky to me because she’s always been jealous of me because I’m so smart and pr—and a good soccer player. Oh, and because of stupid Pearson. She says she likes him. That’s when she started to cry. So I told her she was smart, too, though she’s not. Then I told her—and this was absolutely, totally true—that she could have Pearson, because I don’t want him, and besides, I’d already told him to go soak his head, so I was sure he didn’t like me anymore. And then she thanked me over and over, and so I hugged her to get her to shut up.”

  “That was very kind of you,” said Mr. Penderwick when it was clear that she was done. He sounded like he was choking.

  “Maybe you and Melissa could become friends now,” added Iantha.

  Skye looked as if Iantha had just suggested she take up needlepoint. “Holy bananas, I hope not,” she said, then ran off, for now her team was calling for their captain.

  Heavens, thought Rosalind, trying with great seriousness to take in this new version of Melissa. The three adults with her, though, didn’t seem to be affected the same way. That is, they weren’t serious. They were laughing. They were laughing so hard that they were all three leaning into each other to keep themselves upright. See them lean, Rosalind told herself, as time slowed down for her and the remains of her foggy trance started to lift. See Aunt Claire lean into Daddy, and see Iantha lean into him, too. And see him reach out to steady Iantha. See how gently he does it, and see how he looks down at her while he reaches out. And see—

  Rosalind’s world heaved up and shook itself like Hound after a bath. Now she was awake.

  As soon as the Penderwicks got home, Rosalind ran upstairs to her room. As revelations went, the one she’d had at the soccer game was as huge as it was scary, and she couldn’t act on it without help. She opened the bottom drawer of her bureau, and yes, there was the help she needed, the photograph she’d hidden away weeks earlier.

  “Hi, Mommy, I missed you,” she said, gazing hungrily at her mother’s eyes, crinkled in laughter, her pretty blond hair framing her face, and her hands wrapped lovingly around the solemn, brown-eyed baby that was Rosalind once upon a time. “And I’m sorry I doubted you. I think I have it right now. Do I? Was that what you meant?”

  There were no answers, of course, but asking the questions strengthened Rosalind’s resolve. She put the photograph back on the bedside table where it belonged, then went to round up her sisters. It was time for an Emergency MOPS.

  They were none too willing to come. Skye and Jane hadn’t yet changed out of their dirty uniforms, and everyone was hungry for lunch. But since no one ever ignored an Emergency MOPS, all the sisters obediently gathered in Rosalind’s room and sat in a circle on the floor. Settling down was another thing, though, because the excitement of the soccer game had not yet worn off, and Rosalind pounded on the floor over and over without getting their attention.

  At last she had to shout. “QUIET! EMERGENCY MOPS—”

  “We can hear you,” said Skye.

  “It’s about time. Emergency MOPS come to order.”

  “Second the motion,” said Skye.

  “Third it,” said Jane.

  “Fourth it,” said Batty. She knew better than to fifth it for Hound at an Emergency MOPS.

  Rosalind put out her fist. “All swear to keep secret what is said here, even from Daddy and Aunt Claire—and actually from Iantha, too—unless you think someone might do something truly bad.”

  Marveling at the addition of Iantha to the oath, the other sisters put their fists on top of Rosalind’s.

  “This I swear, by the Penderwick Family Honor!”

  It was now time for Rosalind to begin the meeting, but though she’d pounded and shouted to get to this point, she hesitated. The weight of what she was about to do almost overwhelmed her. For courage, she took the photograph of her mother down and put it in the middle of the circle.

  “Ever since Aunt Claire gave Mommy’s letter to Daddy,” she said, “I’ve been mistaken, misguided, shortsighted, and selfish.”

  “Good grief, Rosy,” said Skye.

  “It’s okay, Skye, because I finally figured it out at the end of the soccer game. What if Mommy was right about Daddy getting lonely and needing a grown-up woman to talk to besides Aunt Claire? What if it really is the right thing for him to date? What if—what if he even wants to get married again sometime? Would that truly be so terrible?”

  “You said it would be,” said Skye. “You were sure.”

  “You were positive,” said Jane.

  “I know, I know.” Rosalind waved her hand as though to erase all that. “But what if he dates and then maybe marries someone really nice and kind and smart?”

  “Rosalind, I’m too hungry for all these questions,” said Skye. “Just tell us what you’re thinking.”

  “All right, I will. I think Daddy likes Iantha.”

  Skye rolled her eyes in frustration. “Of course Daddy likes Iantha. We all do.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Rosalind. “I mean—Daddy likes her.”

  The first to understand, Jane leaned forward excitedly. “Does she like him back?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “But—” This was Skye, who didn’t know what she was trying to say.

  “I know,” said Rosalind. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  And Skye found, to her amazement, that it being perfect was just what she’d meant.

  Only one sister hadn’t reacted so far, and now the three older ones turned to Batty, who was flopped heavily over Hound, trying to untangle some of his neckties.

  “Do you understand what we’re saying, honey?” Rosalind asked her.

  “You’re saying that Daddy should date Iantha.” She got one necktie free and started on another. “I said that a long time ago.”

  “She did, you know, at the last MOPS. I remember.” Skye looked as disgusted as when she’d hugged Melissa.

  “It’s becoming clear to me,” said Jane, “that Batty and I are the sensitive Penderwicks.”

  “Not now, Jane,” said Rosalind be
fore Skye could start an argument about sensitivity. “Lunch will be any minute, and we’ve got to decide what to do. Because if we think Daddy and Iantha should date, they’re both going to the gala university event tomorrow night. They can simply go together.”

  “How thrilling!” said Jane. “How are we going to make them do it?”

  “It’s not like we can trick them into it,” added Skye. “Not after last night. Daddy told us no interference, remember?”

  “If we have to trick him, we will. We can always confess again,” said Rosalind. “Now we need a plan, the new and improved Save-Daddy Plan. Everybody think until their brains fall out. We have less than twenty-four hours.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Very Long Night

  IT WAS JANE who thought of taking the battery out of the car—she’d read about it once while researching a Sabrina Starr book. Skye found out how to do it by going across the street and asking Nick to demonstrate on his parents’ car. Rosalind wanted to be the one to do the actual taking out, since, as oldest sister, she should be responsible for the part that was sort of illegal. But when the whole schedule was written out, she realized that the battery removal and the fetching of Ben had to be done at the same time. And nobody thought that Skye should be sent for Ben.

  “So Skye works on the car, Rosalind and Batty go next door to get Ben, and I make sure Daddy doesn’t come downstairs before Skye’s ready,” said Jane. The plan was to be set in motion any minute—as soon as their father emerged from his study and went upstairs to get dressed for the gala event—and the sisters were going over the details one last time. There hadn’t been much time for practice, as they’d had to lay low and look innocent until Aunt Claire went home, and Rosalind was afraid people would forget their parts.

  “Skye, how will you let Jane know you’re ready?” she asked.

  “I’ll go upstairs and tell her she’d better clean her half of the room or I’ll kill her.” Skye anxiously tugged at her sweatshirt. She had several essential tools tucked into the waist of her jeans, and she was worried that her father would notice the odd lumps.

  Rosalind turned to Batty. There had been some discussion about Batty being the weak link, but she was needed. Besides, her future, too, was in the balance. “Now, Batty, remember that as soon as we get to Iantha’s, you go to the window and watch for Daddy to come out of our house and get into the car. What’s your spy code?”

  “Bug Man.”

  “And you absolutely will not say ‘Bug Man’ until Daddy’s really and truly in the car?”

  “Even if I see Bug Man, I won’t say so.”

  “There’s-no-Bug-Man,” Skye rattled off automatically.

  Rosalind shushed her. “Bug Man” as the spy code didn’t please her, either, but it was one they could be sure Batty would remember.

  “Anything else?” she asked. “Ready for Phase One to initiate? The oath, everyone.”

  The sisters formed a circle and joined hands.

  “For the Penderwick Family Honor,” they said in unison, just as their father came out of his study.

  “Macbeth’s witches, right here in my own living room,” he said.

  “There were only three of them,” said Rosalind, wishing that she didn’t look as guilty as she knew she did.

  “Time to go get ready for the gala, Daddy,” said Jane brightly. “I think I’ll come up and talk to you through your door while you dress.”

  “Why?” He settled his glasses firmly on his nose and looked through them at her.

  “To keep you company, of course,” she said with a look of shock and sadness that almost fooled her sisters, even though they knew exactly what she was doing.

  She did fool their father, who kindly put his arm around her and led her toward the steps. She’d be fine up there, Rosalind knew—they’d put together a list of topics for her to introduce as stalling techniques, including her new Sabrina Starr book. Jane could go on forever about Sabrina Starr without any effort at all.

  Now it was up to the rest of them. They shoved Hound into the kitchen with a bone to keep him quiet, then ran outside. The daylight had almost faded, which they hoped would give them enough cover—heaven forbid Iantha looked out a window and saw them stealing their own battery. When they reached the car, Skye popped open the hood.

  “It doesn’t look like the Geigers’ car,” said Skye, shocked. “Everything’s in a different place!”

  “Can you still do it?” Rosalind bit at her fingernails, which she never did, while Skye poked around, muttering strange words like “alternator” and “fuel injector” and “electronic ignition.”

  “Yes, here’s the battery,” she said finally, then extracted an adjustable wrench from under her sweatshirt. She looked less anxious now, and already had an impressive smear of grease across her forehead. “They really should teach us this stuff in school. Much better than the stupid Aztecs.”

  Rosalind wasn’t going to get into any more discussions about the Aztecs for now and, she hoped, forever. She took Batty’s hand and headed next door, abruptly realizing that she’d been so busy organizing everyone else, she hadn’t planned how to keep Iantha from leaving her house too early.

  “Please don’t let her be ready,” she said, ringing the doorbell.

  But Iantha was ready, and—

  “You look lovely,” said Rosalind with a little gasp.

  She was telling the truth. Iantha was magnificent—goddess-like, Rosalind told Anna later—in a flowing silk dress of a mysterious blue-green, the color of the sea just before sunset. Her hair, too, was stunning, swept up in an elegant twist, and she was wearing a heavy gold necklace with dark red stones.

  “Thank you.” Iantha’s old shyness seemed to be back. “That is, are you sure?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “It’s not too much for giving a speech? I loathe giving speeches. Thank goodness the speeches come first and I can get it over with. Oh, dear.” She looked around her. “Have I lost Ben?”

  “He’s with Batty, looking out the window.”

  “Of course he is. Then I guess I’m ready to leave.”

  But since Batty had not yet said the spy code, Iantha had to be kept inside. So Rosalind made her go over everything that Ben would need that evening, even though they’d already discussed it that afternoon. What he could eat for supper, what time he should be put to bed, and what he should wear when put there. And how Iantha had packed his things in a little overnight bag, and that she would leave her front door unlocked in case she’d forgotten anything, but that Rosalind should be very careful not to let Asimov out if she did have to go into the house.

  After they’d gone through all that, because Batty had still not said the spy code, Rosalind opened the overnight bag and slowly and carefully inspected every item it held: two jars of baby food, two pairs of pajamas, three diapers, a red duck, a yellow duck, an extra pair of socks—

  “TOMMY!” shrieked Batty.

  Rosalind rushed over to the window. Had Batty gotten the spy code wrong, after all? But no, it really was Tommy she’d seen, going into his house.

  “Batty, you don’t have to let us know every time Tommy comes home.” Rosalind smiled sheepishly at Iantha, hoping it hadn’t looked as though she were desperate for a glimpse of that most annoying boy.

  “How is he?” asked Iantha.

  “I don’t know. He’s not talking to me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s hard when you stop being friends with someone after such a long time. You must miss him.”

  Rosalind tried to summon an ironic laugh, as a polite way to tell Iantha that missing Tommy was a ridiculous concept. But somehow the laugh stuck in her throat, and before she had to wonder why, Batty screeched out “BUG MAN!” setting off a storm of cheers from Ben. Thank goodness. Phase One of the plan was complete.

  “I’m all set, Iantha.” Rosalind zipped up Ben’s bag. “We can go.”

  Now for Phase Two, which would make removing a battery and stalling Iantha
look easy. Bracing herself, Rosalind opened the front door, letting out Batty and Ben first, who hopped down the steps quite pleased with themselves, then Iantha, who drifted gracefully behind them, looking even more lovely in the soft twilight of the evening.

  One glance over to the Penderwicks’ driveway, and Rosalind could see that everyone was exactly on schedule. Her father was in his car, the car’s engine was not on, and Skye and Jane were lurking close by, pretending to look concerned. Good. Rosalind executed the prearranged signal—that is, she scratched the top of her head.

  On cue, Jane waved and shouted, “YOO-HOO! DADDY’S CAR WON’T START!”

  The sisters had discussed at great length how to get Iantha across her driveway and over to their own. Would Rosalind have to insist? But no, Iantha, without hesitation, glided in exactly the direction she was supposed to go. Rosalind followed with Batty and Ben, watching and holding her breath.

  Now her father was getting out of the car. This was a crucial moment. If he looked under the hood, he’d see that the battery was missing, and he’d want to call the police to report a robbery, and all would be lost. Come on, Skye, thought Rosalind, still following Iantha, it’s time for your next line.

  Skye came through perfectly. She blocked her father’s way to the front of the car. “Don’t open the hood, Daddy. You’ll get your suit dirty. Right, Jane?”