I was left all alone, abandoned at Evergreen.
I sat on the end of my bed and stared round the ugly little room. I wondered what the other girls would be like. They’d all have made friends by now. My tummy went tight as I wondered what on earth I was going to say to them. My new jeans dug in so I undid the button. I hoped Mum had packed all my old comfy jeans too. I unsnapped my suitcase and stirred my clothes around a bit. I looked suspiciously for a swimming costume but there really wasn’t one there. I found my old jeans and my shorts and my T-shirts and my rainbow jumper and one pretty summer dress in case we had to dress up for anything. Only I was going to look really silly in it now, like a boy in drag. Sonny!
I tipped my things out crossly, scattering them over the hard little bed. I dealt my clothes into the two top drawers of the chest and then squatted down to sort out my treasures. My new jeans still bit into my tummy even with the button undone. Perhaps I’d eaten one pudding too many. I wondered about changing into an old pair of jeans but I was scared these strange children might come bursting in and catch me in my underwear.
It was a relief spotting a doll sitting up on someone’s pillow. I’d been worrying about Squeakycheese. He was a toy mouse that I’d had ever since I was a baby. He was a bit battered-looking now—blind and bald and he’d lost an ear and three of his paws—but I didn’t care, I still loved him enormously. I’d hidden him inside one of my socks in case the other children laughed at him but I rescued him now and let him scamper on his one paw across my pillow.
Squeakycheese was my favourite toy. I’d taken my favourite book with me too, although Mum said it was much too precious. It was over a hundred years old and it cost ever such a lot of money. It was called Fifty Favourite Fairy Tales and the title was spelt out in very grand gold lettering on the blue leather cover. It was even more beautiful inside, with hundreds of pictures, lots of them in colour. There were flimsy tissue paper pages protecting all the colour plates, the sort that tear easily, but I’d not torn any of them even though I’d been looking at them ever since I was little, before I could read properly. I’d read all fifty of the stories now, some of them two or three times.
I found another book down at the bottom of the suitcase. It wasn’t a reading book, it was a notebook with a red cover and gilt edges, the sort I’d been wanting for ages. There were more surprise presents tucked inside my nightie: a box of fruit gums, a big half pound bar of Cadbury’s chocolate, and a new tin of felt tip pens.
I cheered up quite a lot. I undid the zip of my jeans,
squashed up on my bed beside Squeakycheese, crammed a
fruit gum of every flavour in my mouth, selected a felt pen,
and started to write in my new red notebook.
I made up a story. It’s the only thing I ever get a star for at school. This particular story was about a princess called Stellarina who had the most beautiful long golden hair right down to her waist. She’d been banished to an awful place called Everblack Castle by her wicked stepfather. I had great fun describing Everblack. Bats flapped in and out of the broken windows, snakes writhed around the cellars, and huge rats swam up from the sewers and paddled in the lavatories. Everblack was owned by a Brigavampire who lurked in his library until midnight and then rushed about slavering and baring his fangs. But he couldn’t frighten Princess Stellarina. She rescued all these crying children from the Brigavampire and the wicked witch Hateful-Catty but just as they were all running down the drive a huge and horrible monster called Uncle Pong grabbed hold of Princess Stellarina and …
But I didn’t have time to write what happened next. I heard voices and running feet. I shut my red notebook and shoved it under my pillow.
It was getting quite dark and I blinked foolishly when someone came rushing into the dormitory and snapped on the light. She was about my age. Maybe a bit older. She had long golden Princess Stellarina hair and an emerald green Ralph Lauren T-shirt and designer jeans and three real gold bangles on one slim brown arm. She would have been very pretty if her face wasn’t screwed up in a scowl. I tried smiling at her but she stared at me as if I was an Everblack sewer rat. So I glared back.
Another girl came panting into the room. She looked younger. She had long fair hair too but it wasn’t as long and shiny and silky. Her T-shirt was the Evergreen hand-out and her jeans were ordinary Marks and Spencer and the three bangles clacking on her arm were plastic.
‘You won, Louise,’ she gasped. ‘You always do.’ Then she saw me. ‘Who’s she?’
‘Search me,’ said Louise. ‘She was sitting here in the dark when I came in.’ She turned to me. ‘What’s your name?’ she demanded.
I didn’t see why I should tell her.
‘Here, you.’ The other girl came barging up to my bed. ‘Louise asked you your name.’
I swivelled round to face the wall, ignoring her. I couldn’t stand either of them.
‘Leave her alone, Karen. She’s been crying. The poor petal’s homesick,’ said Louise.
‘I haven’t been crying,’ I said indignantly.
‘Oh, it’s got a tongue,’ said Louise.
‘Yes, and I can waggle it too,’ I said, doing so.
‘Why weren’t you at the picnic?’ said Karen.
‘Because,’ I said.
‘We had races before,’ said Karen. ‘In teams. You’re Emerald, like us. The other teams are Jade, Lime, and Olive. Emerald are best, aren’t they, Louise? Louise won nearly all her races, she’s brilliant at sports, so we got heaps of team points.’
Louise smirked and flopped on to her bed.
‘I came third in the sack race,’ said Karen. She leant right over me and picked up Squeakycheese.
‘What’s this old thing then, eh?’
‘It’s my pet sewer rat,’ I said.
Karen shrieked and dropped Squeakycheese.
‘You don’t get toy sewer rats,’ she said uncertainly. She started fiddling with the handles on my chest, opening the drawers one by one.
‘You haven’t got many clothes, have you?’ she said rudely. ‘You should see all Louise’s things. She’s got heaps of jeans and jogging pants and shorts, and they’re all designer too. And she’s got three swimming costumes and a really grown-up bikini and a beautiful tennis dress with a pleated skirt and matching knickers and—’
‘I’m not really interested,’ I said, pretending to yawn.
‘You’re just jealous,’ said Karen. She opened the bottom drawer where I’d put all my treasures. ‘What’s this book then? It’s big enough.’
‘You leave that alone. It’s very old and very precious, so hands off,’ I said quickly.
‘It’s fairy tales. How babyish! Who wants to look at a boring old book of fairy tales,’ said Karen, pushing it to one side. She spotted my bar of Cadbury’s. ‘Ooh, chocolate, yum yum. Can I have a bit?’
I didn’t see why I should share it when they were being so nasty to me, so I shook my head.
‘Meanie. And fruit gums too. We’re not supposed to keep food in the dormi. It’s against the rules. Miss Hamer-Cotton said.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘You’re supposed to hand it in and then they give it to you a little bit each day, at tea. Louise had a huge iced cake and a great box of Belgian chocolate truffles. They’re foreign and ever so expensive, at least … at least one pound each chocolate.’
‘Karen!’ said Louise from her bed.
‘Well, nearly. Louise let me have a little bit and tomorrow at tea I’m getting a slice of cake, aren’t I, Louise?’
‘If she gets them back,’ I said. ‘I wondered why that Miss Hamer-Cotton is so fat.’
‘You mean—? She wouldn’t!’ said Karen, falling for it.
‘I can get more anyway,’ said Louise, sitting up and stretching. Her gold bangles clinked delicately against each other. ‘I’m going to write to my father to get him to send me a proper food hamper. If that picnic is anything to go by then the food here is disgusting.’
Two
more girls came into the bedroom. They were both quite a bit younger than me. The littlest only looked about five. She was clutching a large toy donkey as if she could never let him go. Her eyelids were soft and swollen with tears and her nose was running.
‘Hello. Can I have a look at your donkey?’ Karen asked.
The little girl sniffed and ran to her bed. She lay down, tucking her knees up under her dress, the donkey draped round her like a stole.
‘She’s been crying,’ said the other little girl, as if we couldn’t work it out for ourselves.
‘What’s her name?’ said Karen.
‘I don’t know. She won’t say anything. And she wouldn’t join in any of the races. So I didn’t either. Because we’re friends.’ She sat on her bed and swung her legs while she started undoing one of her little plaits.
‘What’s your name then?’ said Karen.
‘Janie.’
‘Where do you come from, Janie?’
‘Croydon.’
‘No. I mean what country? You’re black.’
‘The Seychelles.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Janie, shrugging. ‘I’ve lived in Croydon since I was a baby.’ She started on the other plait. ‘Will one of you girls do my plaits for me in the morning? My mum does it for me at home.’
‘I will,’ I said. ‘I’m good at plaits.’
‘I bet you can’t do proper plaits,’ said Karen. ‘You’ve just got silly skinhead hair.’
‘You shut up,’ I said. I’d forgotten my new haircut. My scalp prickled as they stared at me.
‘Why do you have it cut like a boy?’ said Karen. ‘It looks awful. Doesn’t it look daft like that, Louise?’
Louise shrugged. She undid her own hair and let it cascade to her waist.
‘Oh, Louise, your hair is lovely,’ said Karen. ‘Can I brush it? Go on, let me brush it.’
Louise nodded graciously.
‘Let’s play hairdressers,’ said Karen. ‘I’ll be the hairdresser and you can be a film star, Louise.’
‘Can I play?’ said Janie.
‘All right. You can be another of my clients. Only you’re not as pretty as Louise, so you can be just a lady.’
‘OK,’ said Janie. She went over to the little girl huddled beneath her donkey. ‘Do you want to play hairdressers with us? I think it’s quite a good game.’ She waited. The little girl didn’t say anything but Janie nodded. ‘She doesn’t want to play.’
I made out I didn’t want to play either. I reached for my notebook and went on with my story. I made up two new people, a hateful proud princess called Lavatrise who had a horrible servant Kopykaren.
‘What are you writing then?’ Karen called, busy trying to wind Louise’s long hair into a bun.
I tapped my nose and said nothing.
‘That girl gets on my nerves,’ Karen muttered. ‘Who does she think she is, eh, Louise? She thinks she’s great and yet she’s awful. She’s practically bald. Hey, Baldy! What are you scribbling, Baldy?’
They all giggled like idiots at my new nickname. I didn’t even look up. I went on writing, taking no notice. I wanted to clutch Squeakycheese but I thought that might make them laugh even more.
The door opened and Miss Hamer-Cotton put her head into the room.
‘Hello, girls. Having fun? Jolly good. It’s nearly bedtime, you know. I should start getting ready. Aah, has the little one nodded off already?’ Then she noticed the donkey. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s not a dog, is it? You’re not allowed to have pets here, it’s strictly against the rules.’
‘It’s not a dog, Miss, it’s a donkey,’ said Janie.
Miss Hamer-Cotton came closer. ‘Oh, it’s a toy,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Really! You girls!’ She looked at us as if we’d played a trick on her. Then she started counting us.
‘I can only see five,’ she said. ‘Where’s number six got to, hmm?’
She went off to investigate and came back with her two minutes later. She was older than me, even older than Louise. She was a bit large and lumpy but I liked the look of her.
‘Here she is! She was only lurking in the lavatory reading her book,’ Miss Hamer-Cotton announced.
Karen tittered and the girl blushed.
‘Don’t be shy, dear,’ said Miss Hamer-Cotton, putting her arm round her shoulders. ‘You’ll soon make friends. This is Marzipan, everyone.’
‘Marzipan!’ Karen spluttered.
I smiled sympathetically at Marzipan only she wasn’t looking. I’d decided that she was going to be my friend.
‘Did you ever hear such a daft name?’ Karen shrieked, the moment Miss Hamer-Cotton shut the dormi door. ‘Marzipan! Did you ever!’
‘She came last in all the races,’ said Louise. ‘And she kept missing the ball in rounders. Every time. Why does she have to be in the Emerald team? She’s such a useless great lump. How old are you? Here, you. Marzipan. Don’t say she’s deaf as well.’
‘What is Marzipan anyway?’ said Janie. ‘Is it little sweets like fruit? My mum bought some at Christmas once. There were little strawberries and apples and bananas, they looked ever so real. I played tea-parties with them but they got a bit sticky and my mum got narked.’
‘What flavour of marzipan are you then?’ said Louise. She stuck out her pink pointed tongue and pretended to lick her. ‘Yuck! She’s gone all sour and stale.’
‘Keep away, she’s gone rancid,’ Karen shouted.
Marzipan walked to the empty bed and sat down on it. She opened her book and pretended to read it. I waited a minute and then went and sat next to her.
‘What are you reading?’ I asked. I looked at the title. ‘Oh, Little Women. My mum keeps telling me to read that. Is it good?’
‘Very,’ said Marzipan in a tiny voice.
‘Little Women! What a stupid title,’ said Karen. ‘I hate that sort of book. It’s a boring old classic, isn’t it? You can tell from the cover. I hate all them, they’re boring boring boring, all long words and la-di-da. And girls who read them are boring boring boring too.’
‘Don’t take any notice of her,’ I said. ‘She’s boring. Do you want to see my best book?’
I showed her Fifty Favourite Fairy Tales.
‘My mother got it in an antique market. It cost an awful lot of money.’
‘It’s lovely,’ said Marzipan. She wiped her hands on her dungarees and took hold of it. She turned the pages carefully, pausing at the colour plates.
‘Why’s it got bog paper stuck in it?’ said Karen. ‘Here, let’s see.’
I wasn’t going to let her get hold of it and probably tear it, so I stuck out my foot and stopped her.
‘She kicked me! Louise, did you see, she kicked me,’ Karen yelled. ‘Right in my stomach. That’s really dangerous. I’m going to tell on you, Baldy.’
‘See if I care,’ I said.
It had only been a little kick.
‘It really hurts. I’m in agony,’ Karen groaned.
‘Don’t worry. She’s putting it on,’ Marzipan whispered.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘She’s pathetic. Is Marzipan your real name?’
Marzipan nodded gloomily.
‘My mother got a craving for it when she was pregnant,’ she said. ‘So she called me Marzipan when I was born. I wish she hadn’t.’
‘Oh well. It could have been worse. What if she’d gone crackers over Liquorice Allsorts?’ I said.
Marzipan laughed and I laughed too. We looked at my fairy tale book together. Karen went on with her hairdressing game while Louise sat staring at herself in her hand mirror. Talk about vain! Janie got fed up waiting for her turn and started doing handstands. The child on the bed made odd little sucking noises underneath her donkey.
‘What’s she making that funny noise for?’ said Karen. She lifted the donkey. ‘She’s sucking her thumb,’ she announced. She hesitated, but even Karen wasn’t mean enough to tease her. ‘She’s only a baby,’ she said, replacing the donkey. r />
Miss Hamer-Cotton got annoyed with us when she came back because we weren’t in bed.
‘This isn’t a very good start, is it, girls? Come on now, quick sharp, get into your nighties. I’ll be back in five minutes and I want to find you all tucked up, do you hear me? And don’t forget to clean your teeth and pay a little call. Now then, no need to snigger. Come on, calm down. The other dormis are all settled and Uncle Ron tells me the boys are fast asleep already. We don’t want the Emerald girls to lose a team point, do we?’
She hurried off. Louise ripped her Ralph Lauren T-shirt over her head and wriggled out of her jeans.
‘Come on, you lot. I don’t see why I should flog myself to death to win all the races and then get my precious team points taken away.’ She pulled a beautiful white nightie over her head, trimmed with little pink bows and pink lace. A matching dressing gown lay at the end of her bed. She even had white slippers with pink ribbons and pink swansdown and little grown-up heels.
Karen was surprisingly bashful and undressed underneath her quilted dressing gown. Some of the quilting had come unstitched and it was a different blue from her pyjamas. When she was ready she begged Louise to let her try on her slippers. Louise let her have a little go. Karen couldn’t walk properly in heels and her bottom stuck out.
‘You don’t half look daft,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t she, Marzipan?’
But Marzipan wouldn’t join in and tease Karen. Yet when Marzipan got undressed Karen made some awful remarks about her. I was glad when most of Marzipan was hidden under her long nightie. I told her I loved that Victorian style to comfort her, although I really liked my own red nightshirt much more. I reached up automatically to undo my plaits and it was a shock finding all the stubble. It felt shorter than ever. I pulled at it, willing it to grow a bit.
‘Did you only just get it cut?’ Marzipan whispered.
I nodded.
‘It suits you. It’s very stylish. Lots of fashion models have got their hair like that nowadays,’ said Marzipan.