Catching Falling Stars (19 page)

“It’s got Red Indians in it!” Rich joins in excitedly.

He’s been wildly excited for the last hour, ever since Auntie Sylvia heard the news about Lil and went off to get her jar full of change. At the time, he’d been crying so much it took him a minute to hear what she was telling him; we were going to see the film.
All
of us. Auntie Sylvia included this time, since we couldn’t go on our own in the blackout.

“Red Indians indeed,” Auntie Sylvia mutters, as if she’s never heard of anything so frivolous. I just smile and think I could hug her right now, for giving Rich such a lovely treat.

“Auntie Sylvia, they’re doing lemonades at a table over there,” says Rich, now wriggling around in his seat and staring at the back of the hall, where our school desks have been piled up. “Can we have one? Can we?”

“Rich!” I shush him. “Auntie Sylvia’s already paid for fish and chips and coming here tonight. Don’t be so greedy.”

“Here…” says Auntie Sylvia, surprising me by passing me her little purse. “Go and fetch one for yourself and Richard. And I may as well have one too.”

Her face is stern, and her lips are in their familiar tight line, but underneath I think Auntie Sylvia is quite looking forward to the lights dipping, and sitting in the darkness watching a film.

“I’ll come!” Rich pipes up.

“No, you will not,” says Auntie Sylvia, grabbing on to his arm as I get up to leave. I don’t think she wants to be left on her own…

As I squeeze past groups of people filing in, trying to find enough seats together or just standing chatting, I spot Jess on the far side, sitting with a woman who must be Mary the pub landlady. She gives me a wave, looking pleased and surprised to see me here. There’s no sign of Lawrence or Archie yet, but they did say they were coming.

“Can I have three lemonades?” I ask the lady behind the table, and count out the correct money from the purse.

Balancing the three cups in my hand, I carefully turn – and nearly bump straight into someone.

“Oops, sorry, sweetheart!” says a familiar voice.

I glance up – and come face to face with Lil.

“What are
you
doing here?” I ask, frowning at her.

“What a welcome, eh, Harry?” Lil laughs nervously, turning to gaze into the face of Lawrence’s big brother, who’s standing right behind her. “Look, sorry I couldn’t come for dinner tonight, Glory.”

“It’s
my
fault,” Harry says, holding his hands up to show he’s guilty. “I had to deliver something in the next village this afternoon, so I asked your sister to come with me, and we went to a tea shop, and then a pub –”

A pub? My sister was in a pub?

“– and now we’re here. So
I’ll
take the blame, not Lil.”

Harry is grinning. Lil is giggling girlishly. I’m so cross with her for choosing a boy over me and Rich that I could throw this lemonade all over her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, could you take your seats, please!” Reverend Ashton calls out. “The film will be starting in two minutes.”

“Excuse me,” I say flatly and swan past my self-centred sister.

“I’ll come soon – I promise,” she calls after me. “I’ll catch you at the end of the film and we can talk about it.”

Red rage clouds my eyes as I walk back to my seat, and it takes a second to see where Auntie Sylvia and Rich are … and then I spot them. The row of mismatching chairs looks different now that some other people have shuffled into our row.

“Excuse me,” I repeat myself, and realize that the three people now standing to let me get through are Archie, Mr Wills and Lawrence.

Archie smiles, Mr Wills awkwardly touches his cap, and Lawrence whispers, “Didn’t expect to see you here, Glory!” as I squeeze by him.

“Glory – look! It’s your friends!” Rich yelps, as I reach past Auntie Sylvia to pass him his cup of lemonade.

“Quiet, Richard,” Auntie Sylvia admonishes him. “And those boys are not her friends; they’re simply her classmates.”

If only she knew…

“Here’s yours, Auntie Sylvia,” I say, passing her a cup and sitting down in the free seat between her and Lawrence.

I notice her hand trembles as she takes the cup from me.

“Are you all right?” I ask in a low voice, knowing that no one will hear us in the hubbub of people excitedly settling themselves.

“Yes, thank you, dear,” she whispers back. “I’m just a little startled to have
that man
sit so near me.”

“That man”; she must be referring to Mr Wills. I wonder why she dislikes him so much? Enough to make her tremble with … with what? Rage? Fear?

But whatever the problem is between Auntie Sylvia and Mr Wills, at least she won’t have to see him. Reverend Ashton has just flicked the lights off and expectant “Ooh!”s and “Aah!”s fill the room as the screen flickers into life.

“Hey, you forgot something,” I hear Lawrence mutter in my ear, his breath warm on my skin.

In the dark, I feel his hand lift mine, and his thumb press against my thumb.

He holds it there for what feels like a moment too long, and I pull my hand away quickly, feeling strangely shy and unsettled…

“Pow-pow! Take that, injun! Aaarghh! Pow-pow!”

“I think I prefer it when you’re the cowboy’s
horse
, Richard,” says Auntie Sylvia, gently placing a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “The gunslinger is rather noisy for church, don’t you think?”

She moves off to her seat behind the organ and I slide into the nearby pew, while Rich gallops in beside me.

“Neigh!” he says, a touch too loudly.

“Shush!” I tell him.

Same as last night, people are shuffling into the rows, taking their seats, though of course this morning we’re waiting for Reverend Ashton’s Sunday service to begin, not a rip-roaring western adventure.

“Sorry,” says Rich, and instead begins to amuse himself by drumming his hands on a hymn book to make the sound of horses’ hooves.

“Richard,” Auntie Sylvia calls out, beckoning him to her. “How would you like to have a very important job? Would you like to turn my music for me?”

Rich acts like he’s been given the biggest bar of chocolate in the world, and goes whooping up to join Auntie Sylvia at the organ.

And now I’m left in the pew, feeling slightly alone and self-conscious.

A burst of laughter makes me jump, and I turn to see several people silhouetted against the doorway of the church. It’s Lil – Lil and Sally, standing with Mr Wills, Lawrence, Archie and Reverend Ashton. Lil and Sally are the ones laughing, clapping their hands together excitedly as the vicar shakes hands with Mr Wills, seemingly thanking him for something.

What’s happening?

Again, I feel a ripple of irritation at my big sister. She’s only just arrived here in Thorntree, and yet Lil’s already made herself quite at home. She’s even making heads turn; the congregation are staring and smiling at her and Sally as they file in, as if they’re rare birds of paradise.

I slink down in my lonely pew, hoping she doesn’t see me, but it doesn’t work.

“All on your ownsome?” Lil says brightly, walking over and plonking herself down beside me. “What have you done to send everyone away? You don’t smell
that
bad.”

She stops smiling at her own joke and her hand comes up to touch my face.

“Poor Glory…” she says, her finger stroking the puckered red scar on my cheek. “I could give you some make-up to help cover that, you know.”

I dip away from her hand and feel my cheeks flush. I hadn’t thought about my scar in ages, and now my gorgeous, popular, perfect-looking sister has to point it out.

“Welcome, welcome, everyone!” booms Reverend Ashton from the pulpit. “Now today, before we begin, I have some rather exciting news.”

A hubbub of anticipation ripples through the church.

“It seems that up and down the country, communities are hosting fundraising events, to pay for additional Spitfire planes to be built for our brave RAF pilots and crews.”

More chit-chat rumbles around the old building.

“And we here in Thorntree are going to host our very
own
event – a barn dance next Saturday!”

Cheers and applause break out, as if we were back in the church hall last night, watching
The End
roll up on screen.

“Now, we have a couple of people to thank for this happening. First of all, a new member of our congregation, who brought the Spitfire fundraising endeavour to my attention –”

Reverend Ashton pauses to hold his hand out towards the pew I’m sitting in – and Lil gives him a wiggle of her fingers in return!

“– and as well as the lovely Miss Lillian Gilbert, we must thank Mr Joseph Wills, who has agreed to have this event take place in his barn.”

I lean back and look round for Lawrence’s dad, and see him holding his cap to his chest and looking embarrassed at the attention.

“And on that cheerful note, let us sing!” says the vicar, nodding at Auntie Sylvia to start playing.

Buoyed with excitement, voices boom all around, louder than in the previous Sundays I’ve been here.

“It’ll be fun, won’t it?” Lil leans over and whispers in my ear.

Not for me, it won’t,
I think to myself.

There’s no way Miss Saunders will let us go anywhere near the barn or Eastfield Farm in a million years…

“It’ll be fun, won’t it?” says Lawrence, echoing Lil’s very words from earlier, even though he doesn’t realize it.

I glance back through the tangle of tree branches and ivy, ready to run to Auntie Sylvia when she finishes her conversation with Reverend Ashton and comes out of the church. I don’t want her to catch me talking to my friends.

And another reason I’m here is that I don’t want to talk to Lil. I’m cross with her for pointing out my stupid scar and not having dinner with us last night and being surrounded right now by half the village, all simply
dying
to talk to her about the Spitfire fundraiser and how Little Miss Popular came to hear about it.

Through narrowed eyes I watch her in the middle of the throng, chatting brightly with her arms around Rich, as though she’s the most wonderful, caring sister in the world…

“I bet Harry’s got a Sunday-best shirt he’s outgrown.” Lawrence continues talking about the barn dance. “Maybe he’ll have two – so we both’ll look smart, eh, Arch?”

“It’d be b-b-better than this,” Archie laughs, showing us the worn and frayed cuffs on his current shirt.

“Well, how do you like
my
party clothes?” Jess jokes, pointing at the tired and badly fitting jumper and kilt she nearly always wears.

“Maybe Charlie and Mary will buy you something new,” Lawrence suggests.

“And maybe I’m Cinderella and one of those cabbages on the green will turn into a carriage,” she says with a playful snarl on her face.

“Have you got a party dress, then, Glory?” Lawrence asks me, holding my gaze just a second too long and making me think about our thumbs touching in the darkened hall last night…

“No,” I answer him quickly, hoping I’m not blushing. “Anyway, I don’t suppose we’ll be going.”

Because Auntie Sylvia doesn’t like your father, I don’t say out loud.

“Of
course
you have to come!” says Lawrence, looking crestfallen. “It won’t be the same if you’re not—”

“Glory?
Glory!
”

“I’ve got to go,” I mumble, hearing Auntie Sylvia call my name.

I hurry over to her, brushing my hair back into place where the tree branches messed it up as I ran, and hope I don’t look too discombobulated.

But I’m surprised to see that Auntie Sylvia is looking rather discombobulated herself.

“Well!” she says, with cheeks that are surprisingly pink. “It seems that I’ll be requiring your brother’s services as my page turner at the barn dance next Saturday…”