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We’ll never go back, Mum and Dad and me. We couldn’t bear to see that tower ever again. We live in London now, in a large block of flats. We live rent-free because Dad is the caretaker and odd-job man for the whole estate. Mum doesn’t work yet.
She’s still too tired and anxious and haunted by the past, plus she’s kept busy looking after you. We have the garden flat, so we can wheel you out onto the small strip of grass. You’ve had such a happy first summer, lying on your mat, kicking your little wrinkled heels in the sunshine.
You were born in May so that’s what we’ve called you. Our little May. I sometimes call you Queen of the May and dress you up in your long white christening frock and string garlands of daisies round your neck.
I wasn’t sure I’d like you at first, let alone love you. I thought I’d used up all my love on Jodie. I so wanted you to look like Jodie, be like Jodie. But you’re not a bit like her, you’re not like me either, you’re utterly yourself. You’re pink and plump and so serene, smiling and holding out your starfish hands whenever you see me. I can make you screw up your lovely blue eyes and give small giggly gurgles whenever I kiss your fat tummy. That’s the only thing that reminds me of Jodie, that little laugh. You laugh a lot, May, because you’re so happy, and you don’t yet understand why Mum and Dad and I are still so sad.
I’m trying to get on with my life even so. I read, I write, I do my homework. I go to Greenhill, the big secondary school down the road. It was pretty scary the first few weeks, but I’m OK now, really. I’ve got friends – though there’s no one like Harley. I like 398
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most of the teachers, especially Mrs Goodhew, who takes us for English. She’s encouraging me to write stories. She has no idea I’ve written the most important true-life story in the world in this book.
It’s all for you, May. You’re my baby sister and I love you with all my heart and I’ll always look after you. If anyone teases you or hurts you or scares you when you go to school, I’ll make mincemeat of them, I promise you. But I’ll never ever be such a great big sister as Jodie. She’s your sister too, May, and she always will be. You’ll understand why when you’re old enough to read this story. We’re never going to forget our sister Jodie.
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Document Outline
Front Cover
Frontmatter Title
By the Same Author
Title Page
Epub Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Jacqueline Wilson, My Sister Jodie
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