“Why should I?” I say boldly. “That’s what is wrong with this country! Anyone who doesn’t conform is persecuted! Why shouldn’t you be able to sit on a wall without being harassed?”
“That’s my wall,” he says, and gestures to the front door. “This is my house.”
“Oh, right.” I flush red and leap to my feet. “I was just… er… going. Thanks! Really nice wall!”
OK. Stalking over. I’ll have to come back later.
I trail down the hill to the village green, and find myself turning toward the shop. As I enter, Kelly is sitting behind the till with a copy of Elle, and Jim is arranging apples on the display rack.
“I went to see Jess,” I say morosely. “But she wasn’t there. I’ll have to wait till she comes back.”
“Shall I read out your horoscope?” says Kelly. “See if it says anything about sisters?”
“Now, young lady,” says Jim reprovingly. “You’re supposed to be revising for your exams. If you’re not working, you can go and wait at the tea shop.”
“No!” says Kelly hastily. “I’m revising!” She pulls a face at me, then puts Elle down and reaches for a book called Elementary Algebra.
God, algebra. I’d totally forgotten that existed. Maybe I’m quite glad I’m not thirteen anymore.
I need a sugar rush, so I head toward the biscuit section and grab some chocolate digestives and Orange Club biscuits. Then I drift over to the stationery shelf. You can never have too much stationery, so I pick up a packet of thumbtacks in the shape of sheep, which will always come in useful. And I might as well get the matching stapler and folders.
“All right there?” says Jim, eyeing my full arms.
“Yes, thanks!”
I take my goodies over to the till, where Kelly rings them up.
“D’you want a cup of tea?” she says.
“Oh, no, thanks.” I say politely. “I couldn’t intrude. I’d get in the way.”
“Get in the way of what?” she retorts. “Nobody’ll be in until four, when the bread comes down. And you can test me on my French vocab.”
“Oh, well.” I brighten. “If I’d be useful…”
Three hours later I’m still there. I’ve had three cups of tea, about half a packet of chocolate digestives, and an apple, and I’ve stocked up on a few more presents for people at home, like a set of toby jugs and some place mats, which everyone needs. Plus I’ve been helping Kelly with her work. Except now we’ve progressed from algebra and French vocab revision to Kelly’s outfit for the school disco. We’ve got every single magazine open, and I’ve made her up with each eye different, just to show her what the possibilities are. One side is really dramatic, all smoky shadow and a spare false eyelash I found in my makeup bag; the other is all silvery and sixties, with white space-age mascara.
“Don’t let your mother see you like that,” is all Jim keeps saying as he walks by.
“If only I had my hairpieces,” I say, studying Kelly’s face critically. “I could give you the most fantastic ponytail.”
“I look amazing!” Kelly’s goggling at herself in the mirror.
“You’ve got wonderful cheekbones,” I tell her, and dust shimmery powder onto them.
“This is so much fun!” Kelly looks at me, eyes shining. “God, I wish you lived here, Becky! We could do this every day!”
She looks so excited, I feel ridiculously touched.
“Well… you know,” I say. “Maybe I’ll visit again. If I patch things up with Jess.”
But even at the thought of Jess, my insides kind of crumble. The more time goes by, the more nervous I am at seeing her again.
“I wanted to do makeovers like this with Jess,” I add, a bit wistfully. “But she wasn’t interested.”
“Well, then, she’s dumb,” says Kelly.
“She’s not. She’s… she likes different things.”
“She’s a prickly character,” Jim puts in, walking by with some bottles of cherryade. “It’s hard to credit you two are sisters.” He dumps the bottles down and wipes his brow. “Maybe it’s in the upbringing. Jess had it pretty hard going.”
“Do you know her family, then?” I ask.
“Aye.” He nods. “Not well, but I know them. I’ve had dealings with Jess’s dad. He owns Bertram Foods. Lives over in Nailbury. Five miles away.”
Suddenly I’m burning all over with curiosity. Jess has barely told me a word about her family, despite my subtle probing.
“So… what are they like?” I say, as casually as I can. “Her family.”
“Like I say, she’s had a pretty hard time. Her mum died when she was fifteen. That’s a difficult age for a girl.”
“I never knew that!” Kelly’s eyes widen.
“And her dad…” Jim leans pensively on the counter. “He’s a good man. A fair man. Very successful. He built up Bertram Foods from nothing, through hard work. But he’s not what you’d call… warm. He was always as tough on Jess as he was on her brothers. Expected them to fend for themselves. I remember Jess when she started big school. She got into the high school over in Carlisle. Very academic.”
“I tried for that school,” says Kelly to me, pulling a face. “But I didn’t get in.”
“She’s a clever girl, that Jess,” says Jim admiringly. “But she had to catch three buses every morning to get there. I used to drive past on my way here — and I’ll remember the sight till I die. The early-morning mist, no one else about, and Jess standing at the bus stop with her big schoolbag. She wasn’t the big, strong lass she is now. She was a skinny little thing.”
I can’t quite find a reply. I’m thinking about how Mum and Dad used to take me to school by car every day. Even though it was only a mile away.
“They must be rich,” says Kelly, rooting around in my makeup bag. “If they own Bertram Foods. We get all our frozen pies from them,” she adds to me. “And ice cream. They’ve a huge catalog!”
“Oh, they’re well off,” says Jim. “But they’ve always been close with their money.” He rips open a cardboard box of Cup-a-Soups and starts stacking them on a shelf. “Bill Bertram used to boast about it. How all his kids worked for their pocket money.” He straightens a bundle of chicken and mushroom sachets on the shelf. “And if they couldn’t afford a school trip or whatever… they didn’t go. Simple as that.”
“School trips?” I can’t get my head round this. “But everyone knows parents pay for school trips!”
“Not the Bertrams. He wanted to teach them the value of money. There was a story going around one year that one of the Bertram boys was the only kid in school not to go to the pantomime. He didn’t have the money and his dad wouldn’t bail him out.” Jim resumes stacking the soups. “I don’t know if that was true. But it wouldn’t surprise me.” He gives Kelly a mock-severe look. “You don’t know you’re born, young lady. You’ve got the easy life!”
“I do chores!” retorts Kelly at once. “Look! I’m helping out here, aren’t I?”
She reaches for some chewing gum from the sweets counter and unwraps it, then turns to me. “Now I’ll do you, Becky!” She riffles in my makeup bag. “Have you got any bronzer?”
“Er… yes,” I say, distracted. “Somewhere.”
I’m still thinking about Jess standing at the bus stop, all little and skinny.
Jim is squashing the empty Cup-a-Soup box down flat. He turns and gives me an appraising look.
“Don’t worry, love. You’ll make up with Jess.”
“Maybe.” I try to smile.
“You’re sisters. You’re family. Family always pull through for each other.” He glances out the window. “Ay- up. They’re gathering early today.”
I follow his gaze, and see two old ladies hovering outside the shop. One of them squints at the bread display, then turns and shakes her head at the other.
“Does nobody buy bread full price?” I say.
“Not in this village,” says Jim. “Except the tourists. But we don’t get so many of those. It’s mostly climbers who want to have a go at Scully Pike — and they don’t have much call for bread. Only emergency services.”
