The Girls from See Saw Lane by Sandy Taylor

go, you passed the exam.’
    â€˜It’s not law, you know. There isn’t some law that says, all ye who pass the eleven-plus must, on pain of death or worse, go to the bloody grammar school.’
    I started to giggle: ‘You’re really not going?’
    â€˜I’m really not going.’
    â€˜But why?’
    â€˜Because I don’t want to. It’s not part of my life’s plan to spend the next hundred years going to school and being told what to do and when to do it. Going to grammar school won’t make the slightest bit of difference to me being an artist. In fact it might make it harder because there’ll be more homework.’
    This was a lot of information for me to take in all at once.
    â€˜You’ve got a life’s plan?’ I asked.
    â€˜Everyone should have one, otherwise you will end up making loads of mistakes.’
    â€˜Does that mean I need one?’
    â€˜No, you’re part of mine. I’ll make sure you’re okay.’
    â€˜Don’t your mum and dad mind you not going to the grammar school?’
    â€˜Not really. They know that I’m going to be an artist, and once I make my mind up about something, I don’t usually change it.’
    Mary never failed to amaze me. I could just imagine me saying to my mum, ‘Oh, by the way, I passed the eleven-plus, but I’ve decided not to go to the grammar school, is that okay with you, Mum?’
    â€˜I think Mum was a bit miffed,’ said Mary, ‘because she would have liked to have shown off to Lady Muck who lives down the road.’
    â€˜Lady Muck?’
    â€˜Yeah, you know, the one with the mock-Tudor front door.’
    â€˜And the funny husband?’
    â€˜That’s the one. Well, according to her, her daughter Penelope is the most miraculous thing since the virgin birth, and she‘s always going on about how clever she is and how pretty she is, blah, blah, blah. Anyway she failed the exam, so my mum would have liked to have bragged about me.’
    â€˜Well she can still brag about you can’t she, because you passed?’
    â€˜Lady Muck wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t prancing round in the poncy uniform.’
    â€˜You do make me laugh, Mary Pickles.’
    â€˜I’m so glad, Dottie Perks.’

    I remember the day Mary told me that she had fallen in love for the first time. It was on my eleventh birthday. My Aunty Brenda had bought me a Bunty annual. I had the Bunty comic delivered to my house every Tuesday and as soon as I heard it fall through the letter box, I ran downstairs before anyone else could pick it up. ‘As if,’ said my sister Rita, ‘anyone else would want it.’ 
    I showed it to Mary when I got to the bus stop and she burst out laughing.
    â€˜What?’ I said, staring at her.
    â€˜I can’t believe you’re still reading that stuff.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜It’s kids’ stuff, Dottie,’ she said, screwing up her nose as if she had a bad smell under it.
    â€˜But I like it.’
    â€˜Well it’s time you stopped liking it.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I’ve grown up, Dottie.’
    â€˜What, in two weeks?’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    â€˜I‘m talking about two weeks ago when you borrowed my Bunty comic.’
    She decided to ignore that and went on talking.
    â€˜So what’s in it that you like so much?’
    â€˜I like “The Four Marys” and…’ 
    â€˜â€œThe Four Marys”?’ she screamed.
    â€˜And “The Dancing Life of Moira Kent”.’
    â€˜â€œThe Dancing Life of Moira Kent”!’
    I was pretty confused now. ‘Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?’
    â€˜Because I can’t believe you’re saying it.’
    Â â€˜Well, if you don’t think I should be reading Bunty , what should I be reading?’
    â€˜Romance,’ said Mary,