Just Peachy (8 page)

“It’s all right.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” There just wasn’t any point, trying to compete with Charlie.

“You were hoping you’d get to look after her?”

“Honestly, it’s not important,” I said. “I probably won’t get her anyway.”

At school we spent all morning arranging the gym. Mr Eccles, the school caretaker, climbed up his ladder and hung long strings of glittery stuff from the wall bars right across to the windows, while we decorated the tree with tinsel and glass ornaments and little paper lanterns. There was even an angel to go on the top. All round the foot of the tree were presents, pink-wrapped for the girls and blue for the boys.

“A bit sexist,” grumbled Millie, but even she had to agree that most boys probably wouldn’t thank you for a doll, or for what Coop (to annoy Charlie) calls girly stuff, meaning hair slides and bangles and ‘little itty-bitty things’.

I said, “I bet the Diddy People like itty-bitty things.”

Millie admitted that they did.

“I quite like them myself,” I said.

Millie glanced over her shoulder. “Me too, but don’t tell anyone!”

At two o’clock the children arrived from Hill House. There were twenty-eight of them, the same number as in our year, all aged between seven and nine. I saw my little girl – I’d started to think of her as mine – staring round, wide-eyed with wonderment, at all the decorations. In spite of telling myself that I wouldn’t be chosen as her carer, I couldn’t help secretly hoping. I stood, with fingers crossed, as people were paired off. At last it was my turn. There were six children left, including my little girl.

“Peaches!” Sister Agatha beckoned me over. “Peaches, this is Ben. Ben, this is Peaches. She’s going to be taking care of you this afternoon.”

My heart sank. Ben was one of the older ones. He was
big.
Big and ungainly. Slumped in his wheelchair, his head on one side.

Sister Agatha squeezed my shoulder. “I needed someone special,” she said. “Someone who understands about boys.” She smiled kindly. “I know you have two brothers!”

I gritted my teeth.
My family.
Always interfering. Always getting in the way. I’d thought by coming to Sacred Heart I might have escaped them.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sister Agatha lead Millie up to my little girl. Of course! Millie had three sisters. I tried not to be jealous, but I could feel the resentment boiling up. If I’d been a kettle, steam would have been bursting out of me.

I turned to look at this large ungainly boy that I was supposed to be taking care of. Thanks, Mum! Thanks, Dad! Just what I wanted.

And then the large ungainly boy flapped one of his hands at me and said, “Lo, Beedth.”

At least, I think that’s what he said. It was hard to be sure as his voice came out as a kind of harsh croak. But he plainly wanted me to shake his hand, so I stuck mine out and said, “Lo, Ben.” Only then, at the last minute, instead of shaking hands I did a sort of high five. It obviously amused him, cos he made a gurgling sound and said, “Lo, Beedth,” and flapped his hand again. So I said, “Lo, Ben,” and did another high five.

“Lo, Beedth!”

“Lo, Ben!”

Zoe walked past helping a small girl who had callipers on her legs. (Had
Zoe
got sisters?) Her small girl wasn’t nearly as sweet as my small girl, but anyone was better than a great lumping boy. Zoe looked from me to Ben and back to me again. Her expression was like,
Glad he’s yours and not mine
.

So then
I
looked at Ben, and he gave me this lopsided smile, at least I think it was a smile, and waved his hand.

“Lo, Beedth!”

As I said, “Lo, Ben!” I suddenly felt ashamed of myself, taking out my resentment on some poor little kid. He might be big and lumping, but he was still only little in age. He deserved a good time! Far more than I did, for all my moaning and whinging. Cos really, when it came down to it, what did I have to complain about? Nothing! Not compared to Ben.

I squatted down next to his chair. “So what shall we do?” I said. “Do you want to stay in here with the others? Or shall we go outside?”

“Uddide!”

I said, “Outside?”

“
UDDIDE!
”

“Out there?” I pointed towards the door that led into the shrubbery. He didn’t seem able to nod, but I could tell from the way his eyes lit up that that was what he wanted.

“Come on then,” I said. “Let’s go!”

I wasn’t sure whether we were allowed to take our charges outside, but no one had specifically said that we couldn’t, so I trundled us off and out through the door.

“Uddide!” cried Ben. He seemed quite excited.

Obviously I wouldn’t have taken him if it had been freezing cold, or raining, but it was crisp and clear with only a tiny nip in the air, just enough to make you not want to stand around. By the time we’d slowly weaved in and out through the shrubbery I felt the moment had come for a bit of action.

“Want to go for a run?” I said. “Down there?”

I pointed at the long straight path which went along the side of the school. Ben gave a hoarse cry and flapped his hand. “Yedd!”

I said, “Right.” I was beginning to understand him better by now. “Hang on!”

We charged off, Ben giving his loud harsh grunts, me going “Wheee!” as I bounced us over the gravel.

“Guess what?” I said. “We could be in training for the next Paralympics!”

He liked that idea. He beat with his fist on the arm of his chair and shouted it out: “Baralim!”

I joined in. “Para
lym
pics!”

“Baralim!”

We rocketed on, down the path. As we were approaching the gym, the door opened and Sister Agatha stepped out. She was obviously looking for us. We screeched to a halt just centimetres away. Normally Sister Agatha would have been frosty, to say the least. We are not supposed to rush about like hoydens. (That is what she calls it: rushing about like hoydens.) Today all she said was, “Good gracious me, Peaches, what on earth is going on?” She didn’t sound frosty at all. Almost more amused than anything. It was Ben who answered her. Very loudly he shouted, “
BARALIM
!”

I said, “We’re in training, Sister. For the next Paralympics.”

“I see.” A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips, and then was gone. “Can I suggest you’ve probably done enough training for one day? Especially as it’s time for tea.”

“Tea!” I grabbed Ben’s hand and slapped it again in a high five. His face lit up. “Let’s go eat!” I said.

Ben was really messy when it came to eating. He spluttered and splurged and sprayed himself with crumbs. He sprayed me too, but I didn’t mind. He was enjoying himself. What did a few crumbs matter? Or a bit of dribble. He couldn’t help it.

Sitting opposite us were Millie and her little girl. The little girl was as neat as could be. She nibbled daintily and didn’t spray or splutter at all. I wondered if I still felt resentful at having been paired with Ben, and discovered that I didn’t. He beamed up at me, his face smeared with a mixture of jam and chocolate, and I wiped him clean with a paper hanky and he shouted, “Baralim!” and beat his fist on the arm of his chair.

“Can’t do Paralympics now,” I said. “You’ve got to open your present.”

“Bredden?” He thumped again with his fist. “Bredden, bredden!”

“Look,” I said, “this is your one… see? It’s got your name on it – Ben Turpin. That’s you, isn’t it?”

He nodded eagerly. “Bredden!’

“Let’s see what it is.”

We opened it together. It seemed to be some kind of soft toy. Round and red and fluffy, with a smiley face and big sticky-out ears. Ben was entranced by it, especially when we discovered that by squeezing it you could make a sound like… well! I’m not sure I should say what the sound was like. ‘Breaking wind’ is the polite expression. That’s what my gran would call it.

Everyone at the table turned to stare. You could tell that Ben liked having an audience cos he kept shooting these really cheeky glances at me and then
squeeeezing
as hard as he could and giving this loud throaty chuckle. Sister Agatha walked past and nodded benevolently.

“That’s good,” she said. “Good exercise. Keep it up!”

I must have looked a bit surprised – I mean, Sister Agatha actually
approving
? – cos she whispered, “For the hands. Good for the hands,” as she moved on. And then I got what she meant. Ben didn’t have much strength in his hands, so squeezing the fartball would help build up his muscles. (And I should like to state here and now that the expression
fartball
came from Millie. She said it without even blinking.)

At half past three the special bus arrived and the party was over. I wheeled Ben to the gates and kissed him goodbye. He insisted on kissing me back, a big wet slobbery kiss, and we gave each other a last high five. I thought that I was really going to miss him.

Sister Agatha was waiting as we went back into school. She said, “Well done, Peaches! You made one little boy very happy.”

I danced on air the whole way home.

I couldn’t wait to tell Mum about the party! About how I’d looked after Ben and how Sister Agatha had said well done. I suppose it was partly that I wanted to do a bit of boasting, cos it wasn’t very often I had anything to boast about, but mainly it was because I was excited. I’d made one little boy very happy – Sister Agatha had said so – and that had made
me
happy. I had really loved taking care of Ben, seeing his face light up, hearing his loud, happy laugh. I wanted to go on doing it! Could that mean I had at long last found something I was good at?

The minute I arrived home, the words came tumbling out of me.

“Mum, guess what? Sister A—”

“Oh, sweetheart, not right now!” Mum was flying out of the back door even as I burst in. “I have to go and pick Charlie up. I’m so glad you’re home – can you hold the fort till I get back? Just keep an eye on the twins for me. I won’t be long!”

With that, she was gone. I stood for a minute, all my excitement evaporating, then trailed into the house to find the twins watching television.

“Why does Mum have to go and pick Charlie up?” I said.

“Dunno,” said Flora.

“Dunno,” said Fergus.

“I thought she had an away match? I thought she wasn’t going to be home till late?”

“Dunno,” said Flora.

I stared at them, exasperated. “Didn’t Mum
say
?”

“Said she’s broken something.” Fergus spoke without even bothering to take his eyes off the television screen.

“Broken what?” I said.

“Dunno,” said Fergus.

“Neck?” said Flora.

“Broken her
neck
?” I almost screeched it.

“Ankle,” said Fergus.

“Oh, yes. That was it.” Flora nodded. “Broken her ankle.”

“Or something.”

“So where’s Coop?”

“Dunno,” said Flora.

“Dun—”

“Oh, forget it!” I said. Those twins really know how to annoy a person. They’re spoilt rotten, that’s the problem. Just because they’re twins.

“We haven’t had any tea yet,” said Flora.

I said, “So what?”

“Aren’t you going to get some for us?”

They both turned accusingly.

“You’re supposed to be looking after us,” said Flora.

“Oh, look after yourselves!” I snapped. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what?”

Flora’s indignant wail followed me into the hall.

“None of your business,” I said.

I was going to ring Gran. I had to tell
someone
my news, and Gran is always interested. What’s more, she always has time to listen, unlike Mum.

“Hello, my darling!” Gran sounded surprised, but pleased. It is usually her ringing Mum, and Mum calling me to “have a word with your gran”. She does occasionally call one of the others, but mostly it is me, cos me and Gran are special friends. “What’s new?” she said. “What’s going on in your life?”

“I think I may have discovered what I want to do!” The words leapt out of my mouth, taking me unawares. “We’ve just had this Christmas party?” I gabbled. “Like at school, like every year? Like they invite these little special-needs kids and we’re all given one to look after? So I had to look after this little boy – well, actually he wasn’t that little, he was quite big, but he wasn’t very old – and he was in a wheelchair, and he couldn’t speak properly and just at first I found it really difficult to understand him, but then I got used to it, and Gran, we had such fun! Sister Agatha – she’s this nun that’s really strict – she told me I’d made him very happy, and I really,
really
enjoyed it, and I think that’s what I’d like to do… work with special-needs children! Do you think I could?”

Gran said she was sure I could. She said, “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad. Have you told your mum?”

“Mum’s not here,” I said. “She’s had to go and pick Charlie up cos she’s broken her ankle or something. In any case,” I added, “Mum never really has time to listen.”

Gran and I talked for simply ages. I’d only just put the phone down when Mum arrived home with Charlie, with her ankle all strapped up.

“Not broken,” said Mum. “Just sprained.”

“It’s still
agony
,” said Charlie. “Some idiot whacked me with her hockey stick!”

I didn’t remind her that when she’d whacked me with
her
hockey stick she’d told me not to be such a wimp.

“The twins want some food,” I said.

“Oh! You haven’t fed them?” Mum made it sound like I ought to have done.

I said, “No, I was talking to Gran.”

“Gran? Is she all right? She only rang yesterday.”

“I rang her,” I said. “I thought she’d like to hear about the party.”

“Oh, your Christmas one! Of course, it was today, wasn’t it? How did it go?”

“OK,” I said.

“Good! That’s good. Charlie, why don’t you sit down and rest that ankle? It won’t get better if you keep hobbling round on it. Peachy, do you want to help me get some tea? We’re not going to be eating till late tonight, so—”

“I don’t need any,” I said. “We had tea at school.”

“Oh. All right! You could still help me get some for the others.”

“I’ll tell the twins,” I said. “
They
can come and help.”

“Get her!” jeered Charlie, as I left the kitchen.

If I had been Millie I would have made a rude gesture. As I’m not, I just went “Hmph!” and tossed my hair back over my shoulder. Even worms can turn.

On Monday at school we eagerly discussed the party, swapping stories about how it had gone and what we’d done.

“But poor old you,” said Zoe.

I said, “Me?”

“Getting one like that.”

“Like what?” I said.

Zoe flopped her head to one side, letting her eyes go crossed and her tongue loll out. I felt a sort of blind rage boil up inside me. I don’t think I have ever come so close to hitting someone. It was Millie, in this icy voice, who said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well – you know! Not quite all there.”

I said, “For your information, Ben is
absolutely
all there. Just cos a person has difficulty speaking doesn’t mean they’re an idiot.”

“Even if it did,” said Millie, “that’s no reason they shouldn’t be given a good time.”

“Didn’t say it was,” said Zoe. “I was just feeling sorry for Peachy.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” I snapped, “cos I enjoyed myself. So there!”

“You really did, didn’t you?” said Millie, as we pointedly moved away from Zoe. “I could see that you were. I t—”

“Hey, Peaches!” We stopped and turned. A small figure was scurrying towards us. Janine Corrie, otherwise known as the Mouse. “I just wanted to say, I thought you did brilliantly with Ben!”

“Do you know him?” I said.

“He lives right next door. I’ve known him for ever. I was sure I’d be asked to look after him! I was just
so
relieved when Sister Agatha picked you.” The Mouse pulled a face, like she felt guilty admitting it. “Not that I wouldn’t have done my best, but he can be really difficult when he wants.”

“Like how?” said Millie.

“Like throwing tantrums, kind of thing?”

“He didn’t throw any with me,” I said.

“That’s cos he liked you! You obviously knew how to get on with him.”

Millie nodded triumphantly. “I told you Sister Agatha wouldn’t put you with someone unless she felt you were up to it!”

It was a few days later when Mum said that Gran had called and had told her my news.

“She says you’ve decided you’d like to work with children with special needs. Is that right?”

I nodded, a bit shyly.

“Well, that’s nice,” said Mum. “It’s good to have something to aim for. But how come your gran got to hear of it before me? Honestly, darling, you are so secretive! You never tell me anything!”

“I do try,” I mumbled.

“I can’t believe it’s
that
hard,” said Mum. “After all, I’m always here!”

I was about to point out that she was always
busy
, but before I’d even opened my mouth there was an anguished yell from Charlie, somewhere up on the landing, and Mum had gone whizzing off to see what the problem was.

“Speak later!” she cried. But of course we never did.

Two weeks before the end of term I had a really BIG surprise. Janine Corrie, that everyone called Mouse, gave me an invitation to her birthday party! She gave one to Millie as well.

“Wonders will never cease,” said Millie.

She was making like she wasn’t impressed, but I knew that she was. She had to be! The Mouse was one of the most popular girls in our class. Zoe might be the loudest and the most full of herself, and she did have one or two faithful followers such as Rhiannon and Lola, who attached themselves like they were stuck with superglue, but me and Millie weren’t the only people who thought she was opinionated and snobby. Lots of the others didn’t really like her. The Mouse was tiny and cheerful. Everybody loved the Mouse.

“She’s probably gone and invited the whole class,” said Millie.

But she hadn’t. I’d seen her dishing out the invitations. I’d wondered what they were. I couldn’t believe it when one had landed on my desk. The Mouse was inviting
me
?

I told Millie that we were the only two invited that the Mouse hadn’t been at Juniors with, to which Millie went, “Hmm!” Like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.

“I suppose she’s asked old Big Mouth?”

She meant Zoe.

“She’d have to,” I said. “She went to hers.”

“What, to old Big Mouth’s?” Millie pulled a face.

“Don’t you want to go?” I said.

“Oh, I’ll
go
,” said Millie. And then she grinned and said, “Never turn down an invitation to a party!”

“Especially this one,” I said. “I heard there are going to be
boys.
”

“Oh, wow!” Millie went into a pretend swoon. “
Boys!
”

“Yes, well,” I said. “You were the one complaining we never meet any.”

Earlier in the term we’d earnestly assured each other we didn’t think boys were all that important. We could live without them! I’d told Millie how Mum had been worried that going to an all girls school might not be such a good idea.

“Doesn’t bother
me
,” I’d said.

Millie had agreed. “Me neither!”

Boys! Who needed them?

Nothing had specially happened to change our minds. It was just this strange feeling that had begun to creep over us. Not that we actually
needed
boys. But maybe, every now and again, it might be interesting to meet one.

“At least you have brothers,” grumbled Millie.

I said that they didn’t count. “They’re not normal. None of my family’s normal.”

“They’re still boys,” said Millie.

“Sort of,” I said.

Millie giggled at that. “How can they be
sort of
?”

I told her that Coop was too busy being a genius and that Fergus was too busy being a twin. “What we need are some
real
boys.”

“You mean, not just sort-of boys.”

“I mean ordinary, everyday ones.”

“Dunno where you find any of them,” said Millie.

I was about to say, “At the Mouse’s party?” But my eyes had flickered down to the invitation and suddenly I’d seen something. “Oh!”

“What?” said Millie. “What’s the problem?”

She had obviously caught the note of anguish in my voice.

“I’m not going to be able to go!”

“What do you mean, you won’t be able to go? Why not?”

“It’s on the nineteenth. That’s Dad’s birthday!”

Millie looked at me doubtfully. “You mean, like, he has a party or something?”

“No – well, he does have a party, but that’s later.” That was at New Year’s. Dad’s big birthday bash, when loads of his and Mum’s friends came and partied through the night.

“So…?” Millie said it carefully. I could tell that she was trying hard to understand. My family is very different from hers, and I know it is not always easy.

“We all go out to dinner,” I said. “Mum likes everyone to be there.”

Millie crinkled her nose. “You’re always going out to dinner!”

“Yes, I know,” I said. I felt a bit ashamed, having to admit it. We sometimes went out as many as two or three times a week. It suddenly didn’t seem quite right. Not when there were people starving and living on the street. “It is Dad’s birthday,” I pleaded.

“All the same,” said Millie. “How’s it any different from all the other times you go?”

She wasn’t getting at me. At least, I didn’t think she was. She was just curious to know. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I didn’t have an answer. How
was
it any different? It wasn’t! It was true that we went to this really posh, expensive restaurant called La Cigale, which was Mum and Dad’s favourite place in the whole wide world and charged like a small fortune just for a roll and butter, but then we went there on Mum’s birthday as well, and we went there whenever there was anything extra special to celebrate, like Dad winning an award or Coop having his music performed or Charlie getting her name in the local paper. It wasn’t exactly unusual, going to La Cigale. Like it wasn’t unusual for Dad to order a bottle of champagne or smoke a big fat cigar.