When Matty got to school, she was all over me too.
‘I texted everyone I know to tell them to watch London Local on their iPlayer because my best friend was the star of the show,’ she said. ‘And Lewis told everyone too. He even told people in the park when we went for a walk on Sunday. And lots of them said they’d seen you. You’re famous, Tilly!’
‘My mum saw me on television,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’m sure she would have done,’ said Matty, slightly awkwardly.
‘No, she really did. She came to see me on Sunday,’
‘What? Really? Oh, Tilly! You’re not making it up, are you?’ Matty asked.
‘No, she really came, Sunday morning. And we had roast chicken for lunch and we were supposed to have banoffee pie but I spilled it so I made fairy cakes instead,’ I said.
‘So what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing’s the matter. I’ve got some of the cakes in my lunchbox. You can have one later if you like,’ I said.
‘Your voice is still all funny, like something bad happened.’ Matty put her arm round me. ‘Tell me, Tilly.’
I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t start crying again. ‘It wasn’t the way I wanted it to be,’ I said in a shaky little voice.
‘Why? Wasn’t your mum nice to you?’
‘She was ever so nice and gave me lots of cuddles, but . . . she wasn’t the way I remembered her. She doesn’t even look the same. She’s got fat and her hair’s black now.’
‘Are you sure she really was your mum?’ asked Matty. ‘She looked ever so slim in that photo in your bedroom. And fair.’
‘She’s dyed her hair. And she’s not actually fat fat, she’s going to have a baby.’
‘A baby?’ said Matty. ‘What? So she and your dad have got back together then?’
‘No, it’s someone else’s baby. Tim. He’s her partner now,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ said Matty. ‘Poor you. And poor your dad too.’
‘Well. He says he doesn’t mind.’
‘I think he’s just saying that,’ said Matty, her arms folded, her head on one side, trying to look worldly wise.
‘No, I think he likes someone else now,’ I said.
‘Who?’
‘Well, it’s someone you know.’
‘Really?’ Matty wrinkled up her nose. ‘Not that Aunty Sue lady, the one who used to fetch you from school?’
‘No! Don’t be daft. Look, promise you won’t tell, because it’s obviously a secret, but I think Dad’s got a crush on Miss Hope,’ I whispered.
‘Miss Hope?’
‘Ssh!’ I glanced around the playground to see if anyone was within earshot. ‘I said, it’s a secret.’
‘But Miss Hope’s a teacher.’
‘Well, she’s not Dad’s teacher, is she?’
‘No, but – well, it’s a bit weird. Are you sure?’
‘Dad phones her up a lot at night. And when he talks to her, his voice goes different. It’s all soft and happy-sounding.’
‘Imagine Miss Hope and your dad kissing!’ said Matty, and she started making kissing noises and squealing with laughter.
‘Do shut up, Matty. It’s not funny.’
‘It is, it is! I’m not laughing in a mean way – I think it’s great. Oh wow, what if they get married? Then you could be their bridesmaid in that pink dress!’
‘Yes, well, it’s not going to happen. Because I yelled down the phone at Miss Hope last night and told her to go away and leave my dad alone,’ I said miserably.
‘You didn’t!’
‘I did.’
‘Tilly! So what did she say?’
‘I don’t know. I just ran upstairs afterwards. Oh, Matty, I don’t know what to do now. Do you think she’ll be really cross with me?’
‘Yes! She’ll probably make you stand outside with your hands on your head. She might even Sellotape your mouth up. Or she might find one of those canes from olden times and beat you with it,’ said Matty. ‘Don’t look like that, Tilly, I’m joking. No, I think she’ll act all sorrowful and reproachful and say she’s very disappointed in you. That’s the way she was with me that time I threw the ball at Simon Perkins’s head accidentally on purpose.’
‘I hate it when she’s all sorrowful and reproachful,’ I said. ‘What if she doesn’t like me any more?’
‘But you don’t like her, do you? I thought you yelled at her to go away and stop seeing your dad?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think I really meant it,’ I said.
‘Oh, Tilly, you don’t half do my head in. I don’t get you at all sometimes,’ said Matty, exasperated.
‘But you are still my best friend?’
‘Of course I am, you nutter.’
The bell sounded for the start of school.
‘Oh help,’ I said.
‘Come on. It’ll be all right, I’m sure. Just give her a big smile and hope for the best,’ said Matty as we went in.
I tried to fix a smile on my face, but it went a bit wobbly as we went into the classroom. Miss Hope was there, looking just the same, her hair up, her moon earrings gleaming, her same old navy pinafore and white shirt neat and boring, her shoes flat and sturdy. She was smiling, but not especially at me.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ she said calmly.
‘Good morn-ing, Miss Hope,’ we chorused.
She took the register, calling our names. Mine was first on the list.
‘Matilda Andrews?’ she said. She didn’t look at me – she kept her eyes on her register.
‘Yes, Miss Hope,’ I said, my voice a bit husky, partly from all the crying yesterday, partly from nerves.
Matilda sounded so formal and unfriendly. Though this was what Miss Hope always called me when she was taking the register. She called Matty Matilda too.
The lessons that morning went on for ever and ever. Miss Hope wandered around while we worked on our Anglo-Saxon village projects. She did actually pause and say, ‘That’s looking good,’ to Matty and me as we wove our raffia huts, but then she drifted off and spent a good ten minutes with Cathy and Amanda.
I discussed the situation worriedly with Matty at break time.
‘She hates me now. I just know she does,’ I said. ‘I can tell.’
‘Don’t be so daft. She’s being ever so nice. She is nice. I still don’t quite get why you yelled at her on the phone. If I didn’t have a proper mum, I’d like Miss Hope to go out with my dad,’ Matty said.
‘I have got a proper mum,’ I said automatically.
‘Yes, but she’s moved on now, hasn’t she? She’s going to be someone else’s mum too.’
‘Imagine! I never thought I’d ever have a sister. I always wanted one,’ I said.
‘Me too. I’ll swop you Lewis for your new sister. Especially as I wouldn’t have to see her heaps or share a bedroom with her,’ said Matty. ‘Lewis snores. Really snores, like a little old man. I feel like putting a clothes peg on his nose.’
‘Poor Lewis. You’re so mean to him.’
‘He’s mean to me! He secretly scrubbed all the ink tattoos off Princess Power and dressed her up in Mum’s silk scarf with an earring in her hair for a tiara, and started calling her Princess Pretty-Face. So then I got my scissors and unstitched the mouth and eyes on his stupid cuddle bear and called him Blank-Face, and Lewis started howling and told Mum and Dad, and they got really narked with me. It was just a joke to get even with him, that’s all. But now I don’t get any crisps or chocolate for a whole week, not even a measly little packet of chocolate raisins for my packed lunch. And Mum sewed a much better face on Lewis’s bear, with a big smile, and Lewis likes him even more, so he’s ever so happy. And I’m in disgrace and starving – I’ve just got boring old hummus sandwiches and carrot sticks and an apple for lunch.’
‘You can have cake. I’ve got special fairy cakes. Well, the icing melted into the cakes, but they still taste all right.’
It was a relief talking about ordinary silly things like Matty and Lewis having
an argument, but all too soon we had to go back into school for lessons. We had Art, and we all looked at this picture of people in a park wearing long dark clothes. They all seemed to be huddled under umbrellas, but then I noticed that one especially pretty lady and her little girl didn’t have umbrellas, though they didn’t seem to be getting wet. They were staring straight at me.
We talked about the painting for a while, and then we all had to draw and colour our own picture of people in a park with umbrellas. Matty got started straight away, drawing her mum and dad and Lewis and her, all in raincoats and wellie boots, sploshing through the puddles in the park. She drew a pond beside them, with a pair of ducks.
‘And you could do a whole line of ducklings from the pond waddling along behind your family,’ I suggested.
‘Good idea,’ said Matty. ‘Why aren’t you starting your picture?’
‘I’m thinking . . .’ I sat still for several minutes, making it up in my head. Then I drew two lines down my paper, dividing it into three.
‘What are those lines for?’ asked Matty.
‘You’ll see,’ I said. Right at the left-hand side of the page I drew a lot of little people with umbrellas in pouring rain. I also drew another lady and a girl standing side by side, one dark, one fair. They were perfectly dry, smiling in a little patch of sunshine.
‘That’s good, Tilly. But you haven’t used up the page. There’s all this big gap here,’ said Matty.
‘Yes, because it’s going to be like a comic strip,’ I said. ‘I’m telling a story.’
I started on the middle section next. It was much windier and the trees were being blown about crazily. All the people with umbrellas were being carried up into the sky, looking like great black birds. The lady and the little girl were still smiling away, not the slightest bit bothered.
‘You’re not going to have time to colour it,’ said Matty, who had already started doing dark blue sky with lots of little dashes to indicate rain.
‘Miss Hope didn’t say we had to colour it, she just said do a picture,’ I replied.
Then I started the third section. Matty saw me hesitating.
‘Hurry up, the bell will go soon.’
‘I don’t know what to put.’
‘Why don’t you have the lady and the girl having a picnic? Or feeding the ducks on the pond? Or sitting on a bench together?’
‘Mmm,’ I said, thinking about it. But my hand started drawing all on its own. It drew the lady up in the air, her long hair flying out, her skirt whirling around her. Great black umbrella wings had grown out of the back of her bodice and carried her away. She didn’t seem to mind. She had her head tipped back and she was smiling. She seemed to have forgotten all about the little girl on the ground below.
The bell went for the end of morning school.
‘Come on, Tilly,’ said Matty, running to collect her dinosaur lunchbox from the back of the classroom.
‘I just want to finish this bit,’ I said. ‘I’ll catch up.’
Matty hesitated. ‘Oh, come now. We’ve got to bag the best table together.’
‘You save a place for me,’ I said, drawing rapidly.
‘You know we’re not allowed to save places,’ said Matty. ‘All right then, but don’t blame me if Cathy and Amanda get there first.’
She went off in a slight huff. The classroom emptied. Soon there was just Miss Hope at her desk and me. I wished Miss Hope would go off to the staffroom but she stayed where she was. I hated being trapped there with her, but she wasn’t even looking at me. So I carried on drawing.
I drew my girl staring up at the lady as she flew away. The girl’s mouth was open, as if she were shouting. I drew little black dots for tears down her cheeks. I sat there, staring at my drawing.
I barely noticed Miss Hope standing up and walking over to me. She felt in her pinafore pocket and brought out a clean tissue.
‘Here, Tilly,’ she said softly.
I realized I was crying a little bit too. I scrubbed at my eyes with the tissue and then blew my nose. I didn’t know what to do with the soggy tissue so I tucked it up my sleeve. Miss Hope wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at my picture.
‘It’s very good, Tilly,’ she said. ‘Do you want to start colouring it now?’
‘No. I don’t want it to look too bright. Is it all right if I leave it black and white?’ I asked.
‘Of course it is,’ said Miss Hope. ‘You’re absolutely right. It looks much starker like this.’
‘What does stark mean?’
‘Severe. Sad.’
‘Oh.’
‘I think you’re sad, Tilly,’ said Miss Hope, sitting down beside me on Matty’s chair.
‘A bit,’ I said. I bent my head. ‘And does severe mean cross?’
‘It can do.’
‘Then I was very severe with you last night, on the phone,’ I whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right. I understand, I truly do.’
‘I wasn’t really cross with you. It was just that my mum came round yesterday. We had Sunday lunch together, and it should have been lovely, but it wasn’t. And Dad wasn’t really very friendly to her, and I thought that if perhaps he wasn’t friends with you, he might have tried harder and then Mum would have stayed – but I can see that was silly. Mum wouldn’t stay, no matter what. She just came because of the bridesmaid thing. I was on television, Miss Hope!’
‘I know. I saw you. You and your dress looked lovely,’ she said.
‘That’s why Mum came. She saw me too. I thought she might still be abroad, but she lives in London now. Though it’s still quite far away. She says she’s going to come and see me lots now.’
‘That’s good,’ said Miss Hope.
‘But she might forget,’ I said.
‘Perhaps,’ she said cautiously.
I sighed. Miss Hope patted my shoulder. We sat for a little while in silence.
‘Hadn’t you better go and have your lunch, Tilly?’ Miss Hope suggested.
‘Oh, lunch.’ I got up and fetched my lunchbox. I unsnapped it. I had a lemon drink, a chicken sandwich, a clementine, and two fairy cakes with dribbly icing and little pink hearts. ‘Would you like a fairy cake, Miss Hope?’ I said, offering her the box. ‘I made them all by myself.’
‘I’d love one,’ she said. ‘But you’ve only got two. One for Matty and one for you.’
‘I don’t really want one. And there’s more at home anyway. You have it. It’s my saying-sorry cake for you,’ I said.
‘Then I’ll say thank you very much,’ said Miss Hope, helping herself. She took a bite. ‘Mmm, delicious!’
‘My friend Mrs Flower is teaching me how to bake. We’re going to do cheesecake next, which will be super yummy. When I can make cheesecake, could you come to tea?’ I said.
‘I’d like that very much,’ said Miss Hope. ‘But perhaps we’d better check that it’s all right with your dad.’
‘You know he’d like it too!’ I said.
‘And would you really like it, Tilly?’ asked Miss Hope, taking another bite.
‘Yes, of course I would,’ I said.
‘Then that should be fine,’ said Miss Hope. ‘Perhaps we’ll be a little discreet about this, mm?’
I nodded. ‘It’s a secret,’ I promised.
It was definitely a secret and I didn’t tell a soul – except for Matty. You tell your best friend forever all your secrets. And I didn’t tell her at school, where anyone could be eavesdropping. I told her when we were at her house after school, playing Warrior Princesses with Lewis. Little brothers of best friends can hear secrets too.
‘Oh wow!’ said Matty. ‘Then maybe you really will be your dad’s bridesmaid!’
‘If they get married,’ I said.
‘And you wouldn’t mind?’
‘I think I’d like it.’
‘So your teacher would turn into your mum then?’ said Lewis.
‘No, because I’ve got a mum already. Miss Hope would be like a friend-a
unty,’ I told him.
‘If only it didn’t mean wearing an awful frilly dress, I’d like to be a bridesmaid too when Miss Hope marries your dad,’ said Matty.
‘And me,’ said Lewis.
‘Don’t be daft – boys can’t be bridesmaids,’ said Matty. ‘Boys don’t wear dresses!’
‘Yes they do! Dad read us a story about a boy in a frock. Two stories,’ said Lewis.
‘That’s just stories, stupid.’ Matty bashed him with her Princess Powerful.
Lewis tried to smother her with his biggest bear. They started rolling around the floor, giggling and squealing.
‘Stop fighting, you two. There probably won’t be any wedding at all,’ I said.
‘Do you think your dad’s really serious about her?’
‘I’m not sure. I think so,’ I said. ‘I’ll sound him out tonight.’
So on the way home in the car I told Dad I’d given Miss Hope one of my cakes and that I’d said sorry for shouting at her on the phone.
‘That’s good,’ said Dad.
‘She likes my cakes,’ I said. ‘She wants to come to tea some time when I’ve made some more.’
‘She said that, did she?’
‘Well, sort of. I invited her and she said yes.’
‘Right,’ said Dad.
‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘You like Miss Hope, don’t you, Dad?’ I asked as we parked the car outside our house.
‘I like her very much,’ said Dad.
‘A lot?’
‘Tilly, quit badgering me,’ he said, but he was smiling as we went up the path to our front door.
Dad put his key in the lock and let us in. He put on the kettle and then switched on his iPad. I walked up and down the hall, swishing an imaginary bridesmaid’s dress.
‘I love weddings,’ I said dreamily. ‘Dad, are you listening?’
‘Mmm,’ he said, reading his messages.
‘Do you think I’ll ever get to be a bridesmaid again?’ I asked, hinting heavily.
‘I’d say a definite yes to that,’ said Dad.
‘Really? So you’re going to marry Miss Hope?’
‘No, I didn’t say that at all! It’s early days yet. Much too soon to think about marriage. Good heavens, we haven’t really gone out together properly yet! We’ll just have to wait and see,’ said Dad.