My Sister Jodie (24 page)

Harley smiled at me. He sat down beside me and offered me the honey jar. We both stuck our fingers in and licked out the remains of the honey companionably.

‘Imagine badgers liking honey,' I said. ‘I thought they just ate insects and stuff.'

‘I think they snaffle up anything tasty. They're keen on peanut butter too.'

‘Now you
are
kidding me.'

‘No, I read it in a book, honestly. Trust me. I am the Fount of all Knowledge.'

‘Is that the badger book or is it
Jude the Obscure
?' I said, pointing to the fat paperback in his jacket pocket.

‘No, it's
The Old Curiosity Shop.
I finished
Jude
.'

‘You read such hard books, Harley.'

‘Dickens is a tonic after Hardy. I'm greatly looking forward to the death of Little Nell.'

‘Harley! I
hate
sad books. I can't even read about Katy falling off her swing in
What Katy Did
and yet I know it ends happily. I've had a peep at the end.'

‘So you're a fairytale girl. You want happily-ever-after endings?'

‘Of course I do!'

‘I've never reckoned fairy tales. They always make the ugly guys the
bad
guys. If you're freakily tall, then tough, you're a wicked old giant and any number of young Jacks want to come along and kill you.
You
're OK though. You're little and pretty and you've got long fairy princess hair, so of course
you
'll live happily ever after.'

‘I'm
not
pretty,' I mumbled, feeling myself going pink.

‘You're the prettiest girl in the whole school,' said Harley.

‘Well, that's only out of three, and Sakura's only little and you don't like Jodie so you wouldn't pick her even though she's heaps prettier than me.'

‘I meant the whole school during term time. And Jodie isn't my idea of pretty – she's too beady-eyed and bouncy. I
do
quite like her actually; she's good fun in small doses, but you're right, I like you much more.'

I wished Harley was a video so I could rewind him saying that again and again.

I chanted,
I like you much more
inside my head all through tea. Afterwards in my bedroom I wrote in my new journal:
Harley is an amazing boy. He is the nicest boy I've ever met. I like him a lot and he likes me too!

‘What's that about Harley?' said Jodie, leaning over and peering.

‘Don't peer! This is a
secret
journal,' I said, snapping it shut.

‘You don't have any secrets from me,' said Jodie.

‘You have lots of secrets so why can't I?' I said.

‘Well, I'm older,' said Jodie.

‘You had secrets when you were eleven like me,' I said.

‘OK, maybe I did, but I'm me and you're you,' said Jodie maddeningly.

I waited until she went to the loo and then I quickly hid my diary at the bottom of my cardboard box of teddies. I whipped my jacket and jeans out of my wardrobe and hid them under my duvet. I got out my new birthday torch and hid that as well, jumping back on top of the duvet as Jodie came back in.

‘What?' she said.

‘
What
what?'

‘You look all funny,' said Jodie.

‘I can't help it if I look weird,' I said. I opened Mrs Wilberforce's copy of
What Katy Did
. ‘Ssh now, I want to read.'

‘Boring!' said Jodie. She lay back and listened to her iPod, dancing her legs in the air. Then she got fed up and went to watch television with Mum and Dad.

I got into my pyjamas and climbed into my overcrowded bed. I read, forcing myself through Katy's long illness and her time spent in her special wheelchair. I wondered if Mrs Wilberforce had read it since her accident. I wondered what she felt about it now. I was almost at the end when Jodie came back, Mum with her.

‘Right, girls, get ready for bed,' she said. ‘Oh, well done, Pearl, you're all set. Night-night, dear.' She sat down on my bed to give me a kiss and then jumped up again.

‘What on earth . . .?' She fished out my torch. My heart started thudding. ‘What are you doing with your torch, Pearl?'

‘Nothing, Mum.'

‘Why is it in your bed?'

My mind went completely blank.

Mum shook her head at me. ‘You were going to read after I put the light out, you naughty girl! You'll strain your eyes.' She took the torch away and put it in my dressing-table drawer. She looked at Jodie. ‘You tell me if you catch her reading in the dark, Jodie.'

‘Yes, Mum,' said Jodie, saluting. ‘The Watch Pearl Patrol is ever alert and ready to report.'

Mum kissed us both and went back to the living room. Jodie shook her head.

‘As if,' she said.

‘You wouldn't ever tell on me, would you, Jodie?' I said.

‘You know I wouldn't!'

‘No matter what?' I said.

‘Absolutely,' said Jodie, getting undressed. She pretended to be a stripper, humming,
‘Da da da
daaa, da da da daaa,'
as she took off each item of clothing, whirling her bra above her head and rotating her knickers round and round her ankle.

‘Idiot,' I said, giggling.

‘Why?'

‘Because you're acting crazy. Put your pyjamas on.'

‘No. Why are you suddenly asking if I'll tell? What are you up to?'

‘Nothing,' I said. I yawned elaborately. ‘I'm ever so tired. I'm going straight to sleep.'

I lay down and shut my eyes. Jodie went on talking but I kept my eyes closed, not responding. I made myself breathe slowly, in and out, in and out, as if I was already asleep. Jodie gave up after five minutes. I heard her switching off the light and lying down. I waited. She tossed and turned and sighed and pummelled her pillow. But eventually her own breathing slowed. She burrowed deeper under her duvet.

I wasn't absolutely sure she was asleep until I heard her soft snores. I lay still, timing my breath to hers, though my heart was beating hard. I waited another ten or fifteen minutes, and then I sat up and cautiously slid my legs out of bed. I took off my pyjama bottoms and rolled them into a head shape on my pillow. I put on my jeans and pulled my jacket over my pyjama top. I stuck my legs out of bed and stepped into my Wellington boots. It wasn't muddy but I felt they'd give me more protection. I hated the thought of little rodents running round my feet in the dark.

I didn't have time to brush my hair so I tied it
back with a bedraggled ribbon. I was sure Harley wouldn't care what I looked like tonight. It only mattered that I turn up.

I plodded as quietly as I could to my dressing table and pulled the top drawer open. It creaked a little so I had to ease it centimetre by centimetre, but soon it was open enough for me to get my fingers in and find my torch. I gripped it tightly and moved slowly towards the door. Jodie sighed. I stood still, holding my breath, but then she started snoring again.

I got to the door, turned the handle very slowly, and then I was out in the passageway. I saw the light under the living-room door and heard the murmur of Mum's voice above the television. I made my way swiftly down the passage to the back door. I couldn't really go on tiptoe in my Wellington boots. They made an odd little sucking sound at each step, but the television was on loudly.

I made my way right along the passage to the back door. This was the difficult part. Dad locked and bolted it after we'd settled down for the evening. I prayed he wouldn't go back to check on it when he went to bed. I managed the key in the lock but I was too small to reach the bolt on the door. I wasn't going to give up now. I fetched the stool from the bathroom, clambered onto it and stretched right up. I could just about reach the bolt. I had to push and tug for a minute or more, hurting my fingers, nearly losing my balance and falling off the stool – but at last it gave.

I got down, moved the stool back, and then opened the back door. The fresh night air was a shock on my hot face. It was so dark. The
passageway had been dark but I could still see what I was doing. The back yard of Melchester College seemed scarily black in spite of the splash of silver stars in the sky above. I stood with my back against the closed door, longing to rush back inside. But I took a very deep breath, switched on my torch, and went on my way.

The torch was a good one, sending out a strong yellow light so that I could easily see where I was going, but it made the darkness all around seem even denser. It wasn't so bad behind the house, but once I set out along the woodland path I felt terrified. The trees seemed to tower so much taller, a blackly enchanted wood. I heard odd rustlings and tiny cries. They seemed as alarming as jungle roars.

I tried turning the torch in an arc but the swerving light made me dizzy and I kept getting half-glimpses of phantoms: a huge, hideous man who was really the misshapen trunk of a tree; the writhing python that was only a creeper swaying over a branch.

The torch slipped in my hands. I clutched it desperately and forced myself forward, step after step. My Wellington boots were too small for me and were starting to stub my toes. The tops rubbed against my bunched pyjamas. I lost my ribbon in the dark and my hair fell over my face in tangles. I had to press my lips together hard to stop myself bursting into tears. I told myself I was being a ridiculous baby. I wasn't a silly little kid any more. I was eleven years old. I wasn't lost or in dire danger. I was simply out after dark, going to meet my friend.

What if I couldn't find Harley and the badger set? I'd always found him easily enough before, but that was in full daylight. It would be so easy to miss the little windy path that led to the set. There were little paths everywhere. If I took the wrong one, I could get really lost and end up wandering the woods all night long.

I stood at the edge of a path, agonizing over whether it was the right one or not. I thought of calling out to see if Harley was there, but that would frighten any badgers away. I made myself creep forward slowly, looking back over my shoulder every second step so that I could still find my way back – which made me blunder into an overhead branch. It scratched my forehead and pulled my hair horribly as if it had real twiggy fingers. I struggled free, my lips still clamped.

I got to the clearing and shone my torch. There was Harley, crouching beside a tree bole. He waved slightly. I waved back and went to sit close beside him, dousing the light. The sudden dark was immense. He reached out and held my hand. I squeezed his gratefully. We sat there together in the dark. After a minute or so I started to see a little. I focused on the biggest entrance to the set.

We waited. I might have dozed a little every now and then, my head nodding and jerking. Then Harley clenched my hand hard. I saw a snout emerge, then a whole striped head. The badger looked to the left, to the right, seemingly sniffing the air.

He came right out and stood before us, much bigger and stranger and more splendid than I'd
realized. He started scratching himself with his long claws. It looked so comical I had to bite my cheeks to stop myself bursting out laughing. Then he stopped, sniffed again, and took several steps forward. He snuffled in the grass, now sticky with honey. Then he started lick-lick-licking.

After a few minutes another snout appeared at the entrance. It was a smaller badger, much more timid. I felt it must be a female. She peered out, retreated, peered again. Then she disappeared and returned a minute later with two little badgers, still cubs. I breathed in joyously, blinking rapidly, as if my eyes were a camera taking photographs. I didn't need real photos. I had the images inside my head for ever.

I'd have sat there all night long, even after all four badgers returned to their set, but around midnight Harley whispered that we should go back.

‘You must be tired out, Pearl,' he said.

‘I've never felt so wide awake in my life,' I said. ‘Let's stay longer, Harley. They might come back.'

‘We can come tomorrow, and the next night and the next. You're OK, aren't you, finding your way with your torch? It's not too scary, is it?'

‘It's not the slightest bit scary,' I lied.

Perhaps my voice wavered, because Harley insisted on walking me all the way to the back door of Melchester College. The handle turned easily and I slipped inside, waving my fingers at him. It was a struggle relocking the door on the inside but I got the bathroom stool again and managed it. I was on such a high I felt I could rise upwards in the air of my own volition.

I tiptoed along the passageway, Wellington boots in my hand in case they left muddy footprints. There was no light under the living-room door now. Mum and Dad were obviously in bed, fast asleep.

Jodie seemed fast asleep too when I crept into our room. She was lying on her side, breathing deeply, not moving. There was just a moment as I got into bed when I thought her eyes were wide open, but it was too dark to be sure. I lay down, hugging myself under the warm duvet, realizing my hands and feet were icy cold. I'd remember socks next time and maybe even gloves . . .

I slept very late the next morning. For the first time ever Jodie was awake before me. She was fully dressed, sorting through the cardboard box of old toys we'd shoved in the wardrobe. The box where I kept my journal.

‘What are you looking for?' I said, sitting bolt upright in bed.

‘My old rocket,' said Jodie.

She found it wedged at the bottom, under my bears. She waved it around, miming flight.

‘I was wondering about giving it to Dan,' she said. ‘And you could give these old teddies to Sakura. She'd love them.'

‘I suppose,' I said uncertainly. ‘But
I
love them.'

‘Yes, but you're too old for toys now,' said Jodie. There was a little edge to her voice. She kept her head bent over the box.

‘Ooh, what's this doing here?' she said, pulling out my journal.