My Sister Jodie (19 page)

Sakura went to her wardrobe and carefully shuffled through the little outfits. I already had a smile on my face, ready to reassure her that her dress was lovely, though I was sure it was going to be as strange and old-fashioned as her day clothes. But it wasn't really a dress, as such. It was a real Japanese gown in red silk, patterned all over with pale cherry blossom and tied with a wide gold brocade sash.

‘Oh, it's beautiful!' I said.

‘Fantastic,' said Jodie.

‘
Much
prettier than
my
party dress,' said Harley.

Sakura beamed. ‘See the cherry blossom?' she said. ‘That's what Sakura means in Japanese.'

‘You'll be the star of the party, Sakura, apart from the birthday girl herself,' said Harley.

‘No,
you
'll be the star in your party frock,' said Jodie. ‘Come on, then, let's see it. Is it hanging in your wardrobe? Show us where you guys hang out.'

The boys' house was pretty similar to the girls'. Apparently Zeph and Dan were usually in different dormitories but they'd been put next to each other for company during the holidays.

‘What about you, Harley?' said Jodie. ‘You can't tell me you fit into one of these dinky little beds.'

‘Harley sleeps upstairs with the big boys,' said Dan. ‘He's got a big big big special bed.'

‘Oh, let's see, let's see,' said Jodie.

We were both imagining a ridiculously elongated cartoon bed the length of the entire dormitory. It was a bit disappointing to see that Harley's bed was just an average full-size single bed, his navy striped duvet neatly patted into place. There was a
teddy bear
lying on his pillow, furry limbs stretched out, with a straw hat over his face as if he was having a snooze in the sun.

‘Has
he
got a party dress, Harley?' asked Sakura.

‘No, he hasn't got a party outfit, Sakura. Maybe we could make him one. He'd love a beautiful red Japanese dress just like yours.'

‘Maybe we could find a silky scarf and wrap it round him with some ribbon?' said Sakura.

‘Good idea. I'll need some help though. Are you any good at sewing?'

‘I'm not allowed needles and sharp scissors yet,' said Sakura. ‘Undie says I might hurt myself.'

‘So what about you, Pearl? You'll help me, won't you?'

I nodded at Harley uncertainly, not sure if this was all a joke or not.

Jodie was more forthright. ‘Is the teddy
really
yours? Are you totally retarded?'

‘I'm just an emotionally deprived child who's
languished unloved in too many boarding schools,' said Harley. ‘I need my little ursine companion.'

‘Even Pearl's stopped playing with her soppy little teddies,' said Jodie, shaking her head at him.

‘I still have them sitting by my bed,' I said.

‘What are their names?'

‘Edgar, Allan and Poe.'

‘Cool names! So you like reading Edgar Allan Poe?' said Harley, sounding very impressed.

‘No, I just saw his name on a book in the library,' I admitted, shame-faced.

‘Nothing wrong with appropriating a name, though it can obviously backfire on you.
My
bear is called Mr Rigby Peller, which is
actually
the name of the shop where my ma gets her underwear. I saw the name on a fancy carrier bag and thought it would be splendid for the bear I'd just been given for my fifth birthday. I christened him privately with a bottle of Evian water and we were packed off to boarding school together. I told the other boys his name very proudly, thinking it utterly distinguished, and a cut above all their Eddies and Freddies, but one unpleasant older boy bellowed with laughter and said that was the label on his mother's push-up bra. Rigby Peller and I became the school laughing stock after that.'

I was touched by his story, though I wasn't sure if he was making it all up. Jodie simply laughed at him.

‘No wonder, you pathetic little diddums,' she said. ‘Come on then, show us this party dress.' She flung open his wardrobe and started clicking his coat-hangers along the rack, rubbishing his long limp trousers and jeans and jackets.

‘Stop it, Jodie. Don't be so rude!' I said fiercely. I pushed her hard, slamming the wardrobe door shut so she nearly got her fingers trapped.

‘Oh, temper temper,' she said, laughing. ‘Come on then, let's get back or Miss Ponsy will be getting seriously narked.'

I wanted to stay longer and look at the books on Harley's shelves. I could see adult books on astronomy and psychology and art and natural history, but there were also old children's stories –
The Wind in the Willows, Treasure Island
, several
William
books,
His Dark Materials
, all the Harry Potters, all the Narnia stories, lots of E. Nesbits, even an
Alice in Wonderland
. I badly wanted to browse and see which were well-thumbed. It would be like peeping into Harley's head. But Jodie had Zeph and Dan by the hand and was already down the length of the dormitory and out of the door. Sakura was trooping after them, looking back at me anxiously.

‘Just coming, Sakura,' I said, still squatting by the bookshelf.

I looked up at Harley. He looked down at me.

‘We can always come back this afternoon so you can look at my books, Pearl.
Without
the entourage.'

‘Thanks,' I whispered.

‘Come
on
, Pearl!' Jodie called sharply.

‘Why do you let her boss you about so?' said Harley.

‘She doesn't really
boss
,' I said.

‘Yes, she does!'

‘Well, she just looks after me. Because I'm her sister.'

‘Yes, but you're not a little kid any more. You don't
have
to do what Jodie says.'

‘You don't understand. You haven't got a big sister.'

‘I'm very glad I haven't got a big sister like Jodie,' said Harley.

I HADN'T REALLY
thought what I was going to wear for my birthday. I had my pink dress. I'd had it nearly a year but it still fitted me perfectly and I'd worn it so little that it looked brand new. I'd liked it last year. I'd admired the delicate pink-and-white striped silk, the lace collar, the full skirt. I'd twirled round and round in it, feeling like a ballet dancer. Mum had called me her little fairy and had made fairy cakes for my birthday tea. I blushed at the thought now.

Mum caught me dressed up in the pink dress early in the morning, staring in the mirror in horror.

‘I'd have given anything to have a party frock like that. You look as pretty as a princess,' she said.

‘No I don't, Mum. I look
awful
,' I said. ‘It's so babyish.'

‘Don't be silly,' said Mum. She gave me a hug. ‘You're still my baby, anyway.'

‘No I'm not. Eleven's nearly a teenager.' I struck a pose, hands on hips.

‘Don't
you
start getting above yourself, missy. I've had enough cheek from your sister to last me a lifetime,' said Mum, looking over at Jodie and sighing.

We'd thought Jodie was still asleep, but a hand came out from under her duvet and waggled its fingers.

‘My dress is too small for me now,' I said.

‘No it's not. The hem's still just on your knee, though I could let it down if you really want.'

‘It's too
tight
,' I said, sticking my chest out as far as possible. ‘Here,' I said, pointing.

‘Rubbish, you're flat as a pancake,' said Mum.

‘It hurts under my arms,' I lied, wriggling.

‘Where?' said Mum. ‘There's plenty of room!'

‘Can't she have a new outfit for her own birthday?' Jodie mumbled. ‘Especially as you talked her into having this party.'

‘It's not exactly a proper party, it's just a little get-together, a birthday tea,' said Mum. ‘But all right, I suppose I could always get Dad to drive me into town this Saturday. I think there's a market where we might be able to buy a length of silk.'

‘Can't I have something ready-made, Mum? Not a dress.'

‘Well, what?' said Mum.

‘I don't know. Something more casual.'

‘You're not wearing jeans to a party!'

‘Not jeans, then, but something . . .' I looked around wildly for inspiration and saw the curtains. ‘Something
black
.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Pearl. You can't wear black at your age!' said Mum.

‘Is there any black velvet left over from the curtains?' said Jodie.

‘Well, a bit. Not enough for a dress though – and it's summer. You can't wear black velvet in August!'

‘A skirt, a little black velvet skirt,' said Jodie. She sat up, waving her hands, describing the shape in the air. ‘And then you could wear one of my black T-shirts, Pearl, that would look cool. What do you think?'

‘Oh
yes
!' I said.

‘Oh
no
,' said Mum, folding her arms.

Jodie knelt up in bed, looking earnest. ‘
Please
make her the skirt, Mum.
I
'd make it but you know I'm rubbish at sewing. Make Pearl the skirt so she can look the way she wants on her birthday. Go on, Mum, please please please,' she said, nudging forward on her knees, turning her hands into paws and begging like a puppy.

‘I'm not your dad. You can't get round me by acting daft,' said Mum, swatting at her with her teatowel.

But that evening after we were in bed we heard her scissors snipping away and then the whirr of her sewing machine.

‘There!' said Jodie happily.

‘Are you giving me a present, Jodie?' I asked.

‘How can I give you a present? I can't just dash out to the shopping centre, can I?'

‘Aren't you even giving me a card?' I said.

‘Oh sure, like there's a Clinton's round the corner,' said Jodie.

But when I woke up very early on my birthday
morning, I felt paper crackling on my pillow. I rolled onto my tummy and found a beautiful home-made collage card picturing both of us having a big hug. Jodie's hair was tufty orange wool and my hair was a whole skein of pale yellow embroidery thread, obviously nicked from Mum's sewing basket. We were both dressed in scraps of black velvet. Jodie had cut out paper shoes for us from a magazine. She had red high heels, of course, but I had them too, with spiky stilettos almost the length of my paper leg. She'd printed at the top:
To the best sister in the world on her eleventh birthday – Lots of love, Jodie.
She'd given me eleven kisses and an extra big one for luck.

I kissed the little paper image of Jodie and then reached for the little parcel. It was a bead bracelet laid out in an arc on a piece of cardboard. She'd taken a handful of my little glass beads and threaded them into rainbow formation: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. At one end of the rainbow bracelet she'd sellotaped a yellow pound coin with an arrow saying
Crock of Gold!

I jumped out of my bed and dived under the duvet beside Jodie.

‘Hey! Stop rocking the bed! Mind those sharp little elbows,' she grumbled, but she cuddled me close. ‘Happy birthday, little Pearly Girly.'

‘I'm not little any more. I'm eleven. I'm big big big,' I said, stretching right out. ‘See, feel, I'm nearly as tall as you are now.'

‘Oh, so you are. At least as tall as me. Taller. In fact I should say you're very nearly Harley size now. My goodness, you'll make a terrifying pair. You'll be bossing me about left, right and centre.'

‘I wish,' I said.

‘What will you wish when you cut your birthday cake?' Jodie asked.

‘I don't know,' I fibbed. ‘Do you think Mum's making me a proper birthday cake then?'

‘Oh, come on. How could she resist? It'll be the full works with a piped icing message and candles. Pink and white, most likely, to match your dress –
not
.'

‘I wish it was just going to be
us
at this party,' I said.

‘And Harley.'

‘Not even Harley.' It was easier confiding in the dark under the duvet. ‘I like him and I sort of like being with him but I always feel so
shy
.'

‘Shy of
Harley
?' said Jodie.

‘Don't you ever feel shy of anyone, Jodie?'

She was quiet. So quiet I thought she'd gone back to sleep. I gave her a little nudge.

‘I'm thinking,' she said. ‘I'm mostly not a bit shy. Not of
boys
. But guys like Jed and that Bernie – I feel a bit weird and wobbly when they look at me. Is that feeling shy?'

‘I
hate
that way of looking.'

‘I like it.'

‘Don't you find it scary?'