body in a tissue and then pops her in her pocket. Myrtle is taken home and tenderly cleaned up and cared for and given a splendid new home. It’s another doll’s house, but this time it’s her very own Myrtle Mansion, with color-coordinated blue willow–pattern wallpaper in the kitchen and blue roses in the living room and midnight blue with tiny silver stars in the bedroom.
When I finish I gently stroke little Myrtle’s crayon head as she snuggles under her dark blue duvet in the very last picture. Then I find a big envelope and address it. I write a note explaining that I don’t have a competition form and I know I’m a bit late entering anyway, but can they please have a look at the enclosed all the same.
Anna isn’t back by six. There’s no sign of Dad, either. So I have to be the responsible big sister.
I post my Myrtle drawings on my way round to Nadine’s. I feel stupidly nervous as I walk up the neat gravel path to her front door. My footsteps go crunch crunch crunch. My stomach goes clench clench clench.
Nadine’s mum answers the door, looking a little distracted. There are shrieks of laughter coming from the kitchen—very youthful high-pitched laughter.
“Oh, it’s you, Eleanor. Come in, dear. I was expecting your mother.”
“Yes, sorry, she’s tied up with some work thing.”
“Well, I do hope you’ve come to collect your brother, dear. He’s getting a little overexcited. Not really a good idea so near bedtime. He tipped his orange juice all down himself so I had to change his clothes. I was going to dress him in Natasha’s jeans and a jersey but I’m afraid he had other ideas.”
Right on cue Eggs dashes out of the kitchen, chased by Natasha.
She
is wearing her jeans, with her long hair crammed under a baseball cap. She’s wearing Eggs’s clompy boys’ shoes. Oh God. Eggs is wearing Natasha’s flounciest pink party frock. He’s got various pink slides stuck in his short hair, bangles up and down his arms, and he’s shuffling in high heels with diamanté bows.
“Hi, Ellie-Belly! I’m your sister Eggerina, and this is my boyfriend, Nat,” Eggs squeaks in a silly falsetto voice.
My brother, mini-transvestite.
“Get that dress off this minute, Eggs. You’ll muck it up,” I say. “Come on, we’ve got to go home.”
Eggs takes no notice whatsoever. He barges past with a joyous whoop and starts doing a can-can, staggering in his high heels. Natasha shrieks with laughter as he shows all of us he’s even appropriated her frilly knickers.
“Leave him to me,” says Nadine’s mother wearily. “You go and talk to Nadine. She’s in the study working on the computer. She’s finding the Internet so useful for her homework nowadays.”
I’ll bet. I don’t want to go and see her but neither do I want to let her mum know we’re not speaking. I shuffle toward the study. Nadine is crouched in front of the computer screen, smirking at some e-mail message. She jumps in alarm when I come into the room, quickly closing down everything on the screen—and then she sees it’s just me. We look at each other. We both go pink.
“Ellie?”
“Nadine?”
There’s a little pause. What’s the matter with us? We’re best friends, always have been, always will be.
“It’s your little fat friend,” I say shakily.
“Oh, El, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” I say.
We both rush at each other and hug.
“We are such nuts,” I say.
“I know, I know. Ellie, I didn’t
mean
it.”
“And I didn’t mean to come on all pious and po-faced about—you know. . . .” I wave at the blank computer screen.
“I know it’s a bit risky. I know you do get some nuts online. But Ellis is so different, Ellie. He’s just . . . oh, like the guy of my dreams. He says such amazing things. And he wants to know all about me. He doesn’t go on and on about himself the way Liam did. He doesn’t try to kid me he’s Mr. Cool. He confides all sorts of stuff about himself, how he’s shy and
When I finish I gently stroke little Myrtle’s crayon head as she snuggles under her dark blue duvet in the very last picture. Then I find a big envelope and address it. I write a note explaining that I don’t have a competition form and I know I’m a bit late entering anyway, but can they please have a look at the enclosed all the same.
Anna isn’t back by six. There’s no sign of Dad, either. So I have to be the responsible big sister.
I post my Myrtle drawings on my way round to Nadine’s. I feel stupidly nervous as I walk up the neat gravel path to her front door. My footsteps go crunch crunch crunch. My stomach goes clench clench clench.
Nadine’s mum answers the door, looking a little distracted. There are shrieks of laughter coming from the kitchen—very youthful high-pitched laughter.
“Oh, it’s you, Eleanor. Come in, dear. I was expecting your mother.”
“Yes, sorry, she’s tied up with some work thing.”
“Well, I do hope you’ve come to collect your brother, dear. He’s getting a little overexcited. Not really a good idea so near bedtime. He tipped his orange juice all down himself so I had to change his clothes. I was going to dress him in Natasha’s jeans and a jersey but I’m afraid he had other ideas.”
Right on cue Eggs dashes out of the kitchen, chased by Natasha.
She
is wearing her jeans, with her long hair crammed under a baseball cap. She’s wearing Eggs’s clompy boys’ shoes. Oh God. Eggs is wearing Natasha’s flounciest pink party frock. He’s got various pink slides stuck in his short hair, bangles up and down his arms, and he’s shuffling in high heels with diamanté bows.
“Hi, Ellie-Belly! I’m your sister Eggerina, and this is my boyfriend, Nat,” Eggs squeaks in a silly falsetto voice.
My brother, mini-transvestite.
“Get that dress off this minute, Eggs. You’ll muck it up,” I say. “Come on, we’ve got to go home.”
Eggs takes no notice whatsoever. He barges past with a joyous whoop and starts doing a can-can, staggering in his high heels. Natasha shrieks with laughter as he shows all of us he’s even appropriated her frilly knickers.
“Leave him to me,” says Nadine’s mother wearily. “You go and talk to Nadine. She’s in the study working on the computer. She’s finding the Internet so useful for her homework nowadays.”
I’ll bet. I don’t want to go and see her but neither do I want to let her mum know we’re not speaking. I shuffle toward the study. Nadine is crouched in front of the computer screen, smirking at some e-mail message. She jumps in alarm when I come into the room, quickly closing down everything on the screen—and then she sees it’s just me. We look at each other. We both go pink.
“Ellie?”
“Nadine?”
There’s a little pause. What’s the matter with us? We’re best friends, always have been, always will be.
“It’s your little fat friend,” I say shakily.
“Oh, El, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” I say.
We both rush at each other and hug.
“We are such nuts,” I say.
“I know, I know. Ellie, I didn’t
mean
it.”
“And I didn’t mean to come on all pious and po-faced about—you know. . . .” I wave at the blank computer screen.
“I know it’s a bit risky. I know you do get some nuts online. But Ellis is so different, Ellie. He’s just . . . oh, like the guy of my dreams. He says such amazing things. And he wants to know all about me. He doesn’t go on and on about himself the way Liam did. He doesn’t try to kid me he’s Mr. Cool. He confides all sorts of stuff about himself, how he’s shy and
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