My Sister Jodie (20 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Wilson

BOOK: My Sister Jodie
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‘I like being a bit scared, it's exciting,' said Jodie.

‘We are so different,' I said, nestling up to her.

‘I used to be convinced Mum and Dad had adopted me,' said Jodie. ‘Maybe they thought they couldn't have kids so they went along to this children's home. I'd have made a funny face at Dad and he'd have picked me, and then as soon as they'd signed all the adoption papers, Mum would have
found she was pregnant after all, but it was way too late to send me back.'

‘Stop it! Of course you weren't adopted.'

‘I sometimes wish I was. I'd like a totally different mum.'

‘You wouldn't ever want to swap Dad.'

‘Well. Maybe. But it's not like he's really cool or exciting or important. He's just
Dad
. I'd like a dad who was a rock star or a premiership footballer – yeah, and my real mum was a groupie, say, and he doesn't even know that he's got this secret daughter. But one day he'll find out and fall for me and whisk me away.'

‘What about me?'

‘He'll whisk you too.'

‘No he wouldn't, not if we weren't real sisters.'

‘We're
always
real sisters, you and me,' said Jodie. ‘I'll always love you best and you'll always love me best, right?'

‘Couldn't be righter,' I said.

Then Mum and Dad came in, singing ‘Happy Birthday', with presents wrapped in silver paper tied with white ribbon. I stroked them gently and fingered the ribbon. Jodie started prodding and squeezing them until Mum slapped her hand away.

‘Get off! They're not
your
presents, Jodie. Let Pearl open her own presents in peace.'

‘Well hurry
up
, Pearl. You always take such an age. You'll be twelve before you've opened the presents for your eleventh birthday.'

There was a little oblong package from Dad that I hoped
might
be a mobile phone, though there wasn't really anyone I wanted to ring. It wasn't a
phone at all; it was a leather jewellery box containing a string of pearls.

I cupped the pale little beads in my hands. They seemed the sort of jewellery old ladies wore. Dad was looking at me anxiously. I tried very hard to look thrilled.

‘Oh, wow, Dad. Thank you so much. Real pearls!' I said.

‘Well. they're not
real
, of course, but they're
good
imitation,' said Dad. ‘Do you really like them, pet? I so wanted to give my Pearl her very own pearls. Your mum wanted to wait till you were a bit older—'

‘Still, she's determined to grow up as soon as possible,' said Mum. She tugged one of my night-time plaits. ‘Though bless you, Pearl, you look about six years old right this minute.'

Mum gave me a fluffy pink toy poodle, a bottle of rose toilet water and a big jar of rose bubble bath. There was just one parcel left. I opened it up carefully, my hand shaking a little. There was Jodie's black T-shirt, washed and ironed, with a new black velvet trim round the neck and sleeves. Underneath there was a black velvet skirt, very short, made in ruffled layers.

‘Oh!' I said, trembling.

‘I didn't have a proper pattern. I had to make it up and hope for the best,' said Mum. ‘Try it on then, Pearl. Let's hope it fits.'

I pulled the skirt on under my nightie. It fitted perfectly.

‘Hold up your nightie and let's see. Oh dear, it's much too short!'

‘No, it isn't, Mum, it's perfect,' said Jodie. ‘Give
us a twirl, Pearl. You look fantastic, like you're going out clubbing.'

I ran to the mirror and stared at myself. The skirt really did look wonderful.

‘Oh, Mum,
thank
you! It's the best birthday present ever,' I said, dancing around the room.

‘Don't talk such nonsense! Think of all the lovely expensive presents I've given you in the past. This is just a tacky little length of velvet,' said Mum, but she looked pleased even so.

The party was due to start at four o'clock. Mum served a very small lunch – tomato soup and sandwiches – so that we could eat a big birthday tea.

‘I want a big birthday
lunch
,' said Zeph. ‘I'm still starving! I don't want to go to your silly old birthday party, Pearl. I've got to have
another
bath and change my clothes, Undie says.'

‘I wish I wasn't having a party too,' I said.

I had only managed two spoonfuls of soup even though tomato was my favourite. I suddenly felt so worried about this wretched party. What were we going to
do
from four o'clock to six thirty? We couldn't eat tea for two and a half hours!

‘You'll play party games, silly,' said Mum.

‘What sort of games?'

‘Blind Man's Buff and Squeak Piggy Squeak,' said Mum, saying the words softly, as if they were magic spells. ‘They're party games.'

‘How do we play them?'

‘
I
don't know. I never got invited to any parties when I was a little girl because I came from such a hopeless family. My brothers were forever nicking stuff right from when they were little, and always fighting – and my sister was a nightmare. I don't
blame those mothers for steering well clear of us. But I had this reading book and the children had a party and played those games,' said Mum. ‘I'm sure you can make them up. Now don't bother me, dear. I've still got
such
a lot to do. Don't come in the kitchen, I don't want you to see your cake.'

‘Do
you
know how to play Blind Man's Buff, Jodie?' I asked.

‘Of course not! No one plays those weird old games at parties any more. Little kids have themed parties, swimming or football, and big kids have a ride in a limo and meals at Pizza Express.'

‘So what will
we
do?' I asked.

‘We'll invent our own party games, Pearl,' said Harley. ‘Don't worry.'

I was mostly worried about him. I didn't want him to be bored. I knew he wasn't a party person any more than I was.

‘I'll make some up for you,' said Harley.

‘I'll make some up too,' said Jodie. ‘Hey, how come you haven't got Pearl a birthday card, Harley? She was really hoping you'd make her one, seeing as you're meant to be so dead artistic.'

‘No I
wasn't
,' I said, going red. ‘Shut up, Jodie.'

‘
We're
making you cards,' said Dan.

‘Ssh! Undie says it's a surprise,' said Sakura.

‘Mine's gone all splotchy,' said Zeph. ‘It's a total rubbish card.'

‘I'm sure it's lovely,' I said.

It was all such an
effort
. I wanted to slope off by myself and hide until it was party time but I couldn't even do that. Mr Wilberforce came striding down from the top table and gave me a box of chocolate truffles.

‘These are for you, birthday girl.'

‘Ooh, how lovely of you, Mr Wilberforce. Pearl, what do you say?' Mum hissed.

‘Thank you very much,' I gabbled obediently, though I didn't really
like
truffles.

‘You're very welcome, my dear. Now, Mrs Wilberforce has a little something she wishes to give you too. Run along to my house and see what it is. If you go straight away, you'll catch her before her afternoon nap.'

I sat on the edge of the bath and started writing my journal there and then.
14

I ASKED HARLEY
if he'd go with me to see Mrs Wilberforce.

‘Then you could look at all her books. I'm sure she'd let you borrow some yourself,' I said.

‘No, I've got things to do, party games to plan,' said Harley.

I turned to Jodie and started begging her in turn.

‘No way. I wouldn't even if you'd asked me first.
I
've got things to do too,' she said huffily. ‘Go on. You go. You're the one she wants to see.'

I nudged up close to Jodie. ‘I'm
scared
,' I whispered in her ear.

‘Look, you're eleven now,' she said. ‘Don't be such a baby.'

I thought about taking one of the little ones, but Miss Ponsonby said they all had to go with her. I was on my own.

I fetched the copy of
The Secret Garden
. I'd enjoyed it so much I'd read it all over again. Jodie
had flicked through it, keen to pick up any gardening tips to impress Jed. She tossed it to one side after twenty minutes, wrinkling her nose.

‘I can't think what you see in it, Pearl. It's written all weird and old-fashioned and it's such a waste. There's this huge creepy house and mysterious crying at night and you think something really scary is going to happen, but it's just this little invalid boy and he doesn't even die to make a good weepy bit. He gets better. How tame is that! And the gardening bits aren't much cop either.'

I hugged
The Secret Garden
to my chest now, protecting it from Jodie's scorn. I played I was Mary talking to Dickon as I walked along the path. The robin came and perched on my shoulder, and I carried the lamb in my arms. Dickon led me to a grassy bank and we sat down beside a badger set, waiting patiently. Dickon played a tune on his pipe and the badgers all came running, big ones, small ones, tiny baby cubs, all playing about our feet . . .

I wanted to stay lost in my imaginary world but I was already outside the bungalow. I gripped my book, looking at the window. I couldn't see any sign of Mrs Wilberforce. Maybe I could tell a little fib, pretend I'd knocked but could get no answer. I'd dawdled on the path. Maybe she was taking her afternoon nap already. Surely it would be rude to disturb her.

The curtains twitched. I blinked anxiously at the window. I couldn't see her, but perhaps she was behind the curtains peering out at me. I wanted to run away, but how would that make her feel? How awful if she thought I was like the little kids, scared because she was in a wheelchair. She
wouldn't understand I was so stupidly shy that I was scared of everyone.

But I was eleven now. Jodie was right. I wasn't a baby any more. I took a deep breath, opened the gate and marched up the driveway to the bungalow. I rang the doorbell, pressing it firmly so it rang loud and clear. I waited, my heart beating fast. Then the door slowly opened, and there was Mrs Wilberforce smiling at me.

‘Hello, Pearl. Happy birthday.'

‘Thank you,' I said.

‘You look
much
older today,' she said.

‘I wish!'

‘It's funny, I always looked young for my age when I was a child. I used to get so cross about it! And yet now I'd give anything to look younger.' She fingered a strand of her long wavy hair. In the daylight I saw that it was snowy-white, not blonde at all.

‘I think you look quite young,' I said, though the deep lines on her face made her look ancient. She'd covered her pale cheeks with rouge and dabbed powder everywhere and painted her lips bright pink. The colour had started to run up all the little creases round her lips.

She shook her head at me sadly. ‘My hair went white overnight when I had the accident,' she said.

She manoeuvred her wheelchair down the wide hallway and into her library. I took a deep breath. ‘The accident?' I repeated in a tiny voice.

‘Yes, Pearl,' she said. ‘When I fell and broke my neck.' She looked down at her lifeless legs under her long dress.

‘When you fell?' I whispered.

‘In the tower,' said Mrs Wilberforce. She looked at me. ‘Surely someone's told you?'

‘Well, I sort of heard stuff, but I didn't know whether it was true,' I said. ‘I didn't know whether to believe it.'

‘It's true all right,' she said. ‘I didn't know whether to believe it either. I still don't sometimes. I wake up, and just for a moment I've forgotten, and I think I can swing my legs out of bed and jump up – and then I try to move . . .' Her eyes filled with tears.

‘I'm so sorry,' I said, feeling terrible.

‘No, no,
I
'm sorry. What am I doing, getting maudlin after all these years, and on your birthday too! I have a present for you, Pearl.' She handed me an oblong parcel carefully wrapped in swirly marbled paper and tied with a lopsided bow. I thought of the care she must have taken to wrap the present one-handed, tucking the ends of the paper in, maybe tying the ribbon with her teeth. I wanted to cry too. I took the present, forgetting to say thank you. I was trying desperately to think of something positive to say.

‘Still, at least you didn't get killed when you fell out of the tower. It's such a long long long way down. It's amazing that you survived.'

She stared at me. ‘I didn't fall
out
of the tower! Dear goodness, no one could survive that! I'd have been smashed to pieces on the forecourt.'

‘But didn't you get tangled up in the ivy?' I said. ‘Jodie said—'

‘No, no! Your sister Jodie's got a very gothic imagination. I fell
inside
the tower, down the steps. I used to love to go up to the tower room. It was my
own private study. I had it as my bedroom when I was a little girl. It was a little cramped and uncomfortable and always very cold, and I had to go up and up all those winding stairs, but I thought it was worth it to have such a special room, like something in a fairy tale.'

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