Mrs Mason finally got through lecturing Jasmine and let her go.
‘Dear God,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘So what shall I wear tomorrow that will really wind her up? Oh, I know! Jonathan was once in this hilarious schoolgirl spoof set in the nineteen twenties, and he purloined some of the costumes on the last night, just for a laugh. I think we’ve still got one of the schoolgirl outfits. Oh, what bliss to come to school in a real gym tunic with black stockings and one of those black girdle thingies.’
‘Jasmine Day, the Naughtiest Girl in the School,’ I said.
‘Come round tonight, eh? We’ll work on my costume together,’ said Jasmine.
‘I want to – but I’m not sure I can,’ I said, feeling awful. ‘I got into trouble last night from being so late back.’
‘But you weren’t late. It was only about eight o’clock.’
‘Jasmine, there’s a drama at home if I’m ten minutes late.’
‘Well, can I come round to your house then?’
Oh God. It had been bad enough with Marnie and Terry. I cared so much more what Jasmine thought. How would she react to my childish bedroom and all my fairies? I could always hide them away in a cupboard before she came, but without them my bedroom lost all its point. It would just be a shabby girly bedroom with faded flowery curtains, Blu-tack blotches on the walls and a sad teddy bear slouching on my windowsill.
‘I’d love you to come, Jasmine, but my mum’s a bit odd about me bringing friends back,’ I lied.
Jasmine nodded, but she looked a little reproachful.
‘I’ll work on it though,’ I said.
‘What about your brother? Doesn’t he have friends round?’ she asked.
‘Will’s pretty anti-social at the moment. I’m sorry, my family’s kind of weird.’
‘I like weird,’ said Jasmine. ‘I like you, Violet.’
She really did seem to like me. I could say any odd thing that came into my head and she didn’t back away, shaking her head, indicating I was nuts. She’d smile and act like she was really interested. I dared tell her some of my old childhood games – the tiny plasticine family I’d kept in a shoe box and carted around everywhere, the plastic mermaids I’d set swimming in a goldfish bowl, the ghost girl I was sure lived in the back of my wardrobe.
‘I wish we’d known each other then. I’d have given anything to play those sort of games,’ said Jasmine. ‘Did you play them by yourself?’
‘I played them with Will,’ I said.
When he was in the right mood the little plasticine people trekked the grassy jungle of the back garden, the mermaids frolicked in the ocean with great golden whales, and the ghost girl took hold of my hand with her phantom fingers and led me into her shadowland.
‘You are so lucky to have a brother,’ said Jasmine.
But when Will was in the wrong mood he pressed my plasticine people together, mashing them into one fat pink blob, he sent my mermaids swimming out of sight right down the lavatory pan and he shut me up in the dark wardrobe with the ghost girl and locked the door.
‘I don’t think you understand what brothers can be like sometimes,’ I said. ‘Especially my brother.’
‘Yeah, well, let me meet him,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go and find him at dinner time.’
‘He just slopes off by himself. I’m not allowed to talk to him, not at school,’ I said.
‘What do you mean, you’re not allowed? The teachers don’t let you?’
‘No. Will won’t let me,’ I muttered.
Jasmine laughed. ‘And you do what he says, right?’
‘Will can be a bit . . . odd sometimes. If you don’t do what he says then you always end up regretting it.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘We’ll have to see about that,’ she said.
My heart started beating fast. I knew she didn’t understand. I didn’t want her to get hurt.
‘Don’t look so worried, Vi,’ said Jasmine, giving my school plait a tiny tug. ‘Hey, will you plait my hair like that? Silly old Mrs Mason told me I have to have my hair tied back too. Will you be a darling and do it for me?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Have you got your silver hairbrush?’
‘Not on me. Haven’t you got one?’
‘Yes, but it’s a bit scrubby. Don’t you mind?’
‘Why should I? We’re best friends. Your brush, my brush – your nits, my nits.’
‘I haven’t got nits!’
‘Neither have I, silly. Come on, do my hair for me, please.’
I brushed her beautiful long golden waves. It felt so warm, so silky, so fine, compared with my thick coarse hair. My fingers were clumsy as I fiddled with each strand of plait. I was desperate to style it properly and please her.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to fob her off about visiting me at home. Though perhaps I didn’t need to worry. Will would lock himself up in his bedroom all the time she was there. Of course he would.
Dear C.D.,
I wonder how many times I’ve looked at your books? And yet each time I pore over a picture I see something different.
Mum doesn’t like them. She’d never look at them with me even when I was a little girl. She said the colours were too pale, too grey, too bleak. She doesn’t like the trees with their gnarled faces and long twisted roots. She thinks the warty old witches and the pop-eyed ogres and the fire-breathing dragons and slithering serpents are too frightening for a child’s book.
‘Don’t blame me if they give you nightmares,’ she said.
They did give me nightmares, but I didn’t care.
One time I went barging into my bedroom and Mum was sitting on my bed, your book open on her lap. She looked startled, jumped up, and started dusting, her back to me. But I’d already seen the tears running down her cheeks.
I couldn’t work out why.
With love from
Violet
XXX
From Fairies of the House and Hearthside by Casper Dream
The Hearth Fairy
A timid sprite who tries to bring goodwill to the household.
Eight
WE WERE GOING to spend all of Saturday together, Jasmine and I. I loved saying those three words. Jasmine-and-I. It was as if we were permanently hyphenated together, Siamese soul-sisters.
Jasmine told me to come over to her flat as early as possible on Saturday morning.
‘Can you be there by ten? And stay for lunch and supper too, please please please. We’ll do whatever you like, Violet. We don’t have to stay in. You can show me all the good shops in town or we can even have a day up in London, wherever. I’ll pay, I’ve got loads of cash. It’s guilt money – Miranda’s started sending me wads of cash and Jonathan’s been pretty generous recently too. Still, he’s doing well with San Francisco, they’re extending the run for a whole season – isn’t that fabulous! It means I can stay for three months, maybe even more.’
‘Maybe it’ll be like that Agatha Christie play that ran for fifty years?’
‘Yeah, right, so we’ll be best friends all our teenage years and go to college together and get a flat and compare notes on our boyfriends—’
‘But we won’t ever live with any of them, and we absolutely definitely won’t get married.’
‘Absolutely definitely. Marriage sucks,’ said Jasmine. ‘You’re so lucky, your mum and dad staying together.’
‘Yes, but they don’t get on. It only works because Mum gives in to Dad all the time. Jasmine . . . can’t we stay friends after you move away? We could text each other and e-mail and maybe see each other some weekends?’ My voice went a bit wobbly. I didn’t want to sound too keen, too needy. But Jasmine smiled radiantly, her eyes bright blue.
‘Will you really keep in touch? All the girls I’ve gone round with promise they’ll stay friends. They write back to me once or twice but then they just fade out of the picture.’
‘I won’t fade. I shall stay shining in the corner.’
‘There’s this hymn my granny u
sed to sing, about a little candle burning bright, and it ends, “You in your small corner, and I in mine.” I loved my gran so much. She looked after me when I was a baby, and then I stayed with her for a bit when Jonathan and Miranda first split up. She sat me on her lap and cuddled me and called me her little bunny. She was so lovely lovely lovely. I’d give anything to have her back. She died a year ago and I wept for a whole week.’ There were tears in her eyes now, and one spilled down her cheek. I gently wiped it away with the cuff of my cardigan.
‘Thanks, Violet. Is your gran still alive?’
‘Yes. But I wish she was dead,’ I said.
Jasmine blinked at me. More tears spilled but she wiped them away herself. ‘What?’
‘I know it’s wicked but I can’t help it. Don’t be shocked.’
‘Why do you hate her?’
‘She was the one who told Will he was adopted. I told you.’
‘I wonder why they adopted him?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, they can obviously have their own children because they had me.’
‘Maybe they thought they couldn’t. You came along like a little surprise later on.’
‘Maybe.’ I gave a little shiver.
Jasmine laughed. ‘You’re thinking about them doing it, aren’t you?’
‘Jasmine! Yes, I was. How do you know everything about me? I mean, I’ve been friends with Marnie and Terry for ages but they don’t have a clue.’
‘Yeah, well. They’re not your best friend. I am. And it’s all fixed for us to spend the whole of Saturday together, yes?’
‘Yes,’ I said, though I thought I’d have great trouble sorting it out. I usually did a big shop with Mum on Saturday morning. She liked to finish off with a slice of cake and a cup of tea in Marks and Spencer’s café and she’d smile at me eagerly and say, ‘Isn’t this fun?’ It wasn’t my idea of fun but I acted like I was really enjoying myself because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
I had to act on Saturday afternoons too if Dad was around. He liked me to clean the car with him. I’d been doing this ever since I was a little kid, when I really did find it fun messing around with a hosepipe and a lot of foam.
Will had once been part of the Saturday stint, though he was frequently in trouble. He’d juggle with oranges or balance loo-rolls on his head or run amok with the shopping trolley, and whine for more cake and spill his drink down himself. Mum would tell him off constantly and try to bribe him to behave. Dad just got furious with him. Once Will deliberately turned the hosepipe on him and Dad lost his temper altogether and walloped him.
It was a relief all round when Will got to eleven or twelve and flatly refused to join in Saturday jaunts, holing up in his room with his homework. I was still expected to play happy families even now I was thirteen.
I couldn’t psych myself up to saying anything about Jasmine’s invitation until breakfast. Then I announced it, just like that.
‘I’m going over to Jasmine’s,’ I said, and I took a quick sip of tea. I was so tense that I choked, and Mum had to pat me on the back.
‘You’ve got ever so pally with her in a very short space of time,’ she said. ‘I don’t really know why she wants to see so much of you, Violet. I mean, we’re just ordinary folk and they’re celebrities.’
‘Why shouldn’t this Jasmine want our Violet for her friend?’ said Dad. ‘She’s obviously got good taste. You go and have a good time, Violet. I’ll come and pick you up at lunch time.’
‘I’m staying there for lunch, Dad.’
‘Well, tea time then. I’d like to meet her.’
I couldn’t stand the thought of Dad barging into their flat and acting all heavy-handed with Jasmine. He’d given Marnie and Terry a ludicrous warning about never taking E tablets at dances, but they are so hopelessly uncool Terry thought he meant vitamin E tablets. I had always felt I was equally sad and out of it, but now Jasmine had picked me out to be her best friend it was as if a little of her dazzle had sparked off something in me.
‘Oh Dad,’ I said, and I raised my eyebrows. ‘It’s OK, Jasmine says her dad will give me a lift back sometime this evening.’
‘Jonathan Day’s giving you a lift! And I expect he’s got a really posh car too,’ said Mum.
‘Well, make sure he hasn’t been drinking. I know what some of these actors are like. We had one of the San Francisco cast let himself down the other night – absolutely paralytic, he was. One of our lads caught him taking a leak in someone’s front garden. That’s not very nice, is it?’
‘It keeps foxes away,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t stare at me like that. It stops them digging up your garden.’
‘What does?’ said Dad.
‘Men’s urine,’ said Mum, pronouncing it delicately and then blushing.
‘Well, you’re a mine of information, Iris,’ said Dad. He caught my eye and grinned, wanting to make a joke of it, us against Mum. I grinned back guiltily because I needed Dad on my side.
I thought Will was still asleep. He often slept late at weekends, not coming to forage for his breakfast until midday. But when I went upstairs to get my jacket he came out onto the landing in his old towelling dressing gown, hair tousled, feet bare.
‘Where are you off to, so bright and early?’ he said, nodding at my jacket.
‘I’m going to Jasmine’s,’ I said proudly.
‘Ooh, how jolly jolly jolly,’ he said in a silly girly gush.
I looked at his pale face, at the dark circles under his eyes. He was obviously mocking me, but I wondered if he wished he was going out to see a friend? Did he really want to be such a loner?
I suddenly felt so sorry for him I wanted to give him a big hug.
Will wrinkled his nose and backed away from me. ‘Get away from me, Violet. You stink!’
I was wearing jasmine scent. I’d bought my own little bottle.
‘I don’t stink!’ I said, hurt.
He was the one who stank, smelling of unwashed boy and rumpled bedclothes. He yawned and stretched, scratching his tousled hair.
‘I was thinking. We haven’t had a hike through Brompton Woods for ages. Fancy a tramp?’
I stared at Will. Once, long ago, he had taken me on a magical day out to Brompton Woods. We’d caught the bus to Brompton village and then walked for miles under a vast canopy of old oaks. It rained on and off but the branches above our heads were so thick with leaves they acted as umbrellas.
I had the Dragonfly Fairy in my pocket, her turquoise gossamer wings carefully folded. I reached into my pocket every now and then to stroke her. Will led us along tiny winding paths in the woods. I followed obediently because I was little enough then to think he always knew where he was going. He took us to a secret green pool in the heart of the woods, with real dragonflies skimming the emerald water. Will felt for the Dragonfly Fairy in my pocket. He made her shake her wings out and then he ran with her round and round the pond.
I know he must have held onto her all the time, but somehow I remember her swooping independently, soaring along on her iridescent wings, her green legs running through thin air.
I’d begged and begged Will to take me back to that pond in Brompton Woods. Sometimes he said he was too busy. Sometimes he said I was mad wanting to go all that way just to see some old stagnant pond. The last time I’d asked him he’d looked at me vaguely and said, ‘Brompton Woods? Have we ever been there? I haven’t got a clue where they are.’
He was waiting now, his eyes gleaming, almost as green as the pond.
‘Let’s go tomorrow,’ I said.
‘I can’t tomorrow. I’ve got plans,’ said Will. ‘Today.’
‘But I’ve got plans, Will. You know I’m going to Jasmine’s.’
‘Go there tomorrow,’ said Will.
I thought it out in my head. I could phone Jasmine, make up a headache, a tummy upset, some family crisis. She’d understand. I saw Will and me walking through the woods, finding the green pond. I was too old for Dragonfly Fairy games but I could still take
her in my pocket like a lucky mascot.
Will had a little smile on his face, reading my thoughts. He knew me so well.
But I knew him too. I knew why he was doing this to me. I also knew that as soon as I’d cancelled everything with Jasmine he’d start wavering. He’d come up with some excuse why we couldn’t go to Brompton Woods after all. He might not even bother to make it plausible.
I was sick of Will’s power games.
Maybe I’d sooner see Jasmine than Will.
I would much sooner see Jasmine.
‘I’m seeing Jasmine today, Will,’ I said.
I walked past him, along the landing. He didn’t call after me. I didn’t look back.
I wanted to go to Jasmine’s straight away. It was only nine but I didn’t think she’d mind. She’d begged me to come as early as I could.
‘At least let me give you a lift there,’ said Dad.
There was no way I could get out of this one. I didn’t want to be alone with Dad, especially as he was still going on about Mum, ridiculing her.
‘She’s ludicrously impressed by this new friend of yours and her fancy actor parents,’ said Dad. He exaggerated the word – act-or – in fruity tones, as if he felt this was the way actors themselves would say it. ‘What sort of car does this Jonathan whatsit drive, then?’
‘I don’t know, Dad.’
‘I thought you said he gave you a lift home the other evening?’
‘Yeah, he did, but you know I don’t know one kind of car from another.’
‘Well, was it big and flash?’
‘It was just . . . ordinary,’ I said vaguely.
‘Honestly, Violet. You’ve got the powers of observation of a gnat.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve not been professionally trained like some people,’ I said.
‘So what are you going to do when you grow up, darling? Still into this sewing lark, eh? Sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers. Well, I suppose you can always sew your dad a few shirts.’
‘I don’t want to sew shirts, Dad. I want to design stuff. You know. Like my fairies.’