Page 8 of Lost Luggage
Flo leaned closer. ‘Why not?’
Dolly broke eye contact.
‘It’s okay. I don’t often like Mum and Dad’s questions – some are too hard to answer ’cos there’s too many answers. Like why I hate art. The paint we use stinks, Billy thinks it’s funny to colour my hair and I don’t see the point of drawing when taking photos is so much easier.’ She handed the books back. ‘I especially don’t like those questions where they already know the answer. I’m never going to finish my homework before tea and I don’t see the point in cleaning my teeth for a whole two minutes.’
Dolly stared at the book cover of a girl in a blue dress standing on piles of books. All those sentences inside. All those words.
Flo cocked her head. ‘We could read together, if you want. Dad’s busy this afternoon.’
‘Do you like Swiss roll?’
‘Chocolate flavour?’ asked Flo.
‘Come around after lunch and tell me exactly whyMatildais so brilliant and… I’ll tell you why I might need to know.’
Flo clapped her hands. ‘Mum’s at work, I’m sure Dad will say yes. Now don’t tell me, not straight off, I’m very good at guessing.’ Flo blew out her cheeks. ‘Got it! You’re going to become a teacher… no, wait, a children’s author! Or, of course, it’s obvious, you want to know how to glue a hat to someone’s head.’
Greta always used to say it was no surprise that Dolly and Flo got on.
7
Chocolate crumbs tumbled down Flo’s chin. She’d just shown off the jam jar inside her backpack, home to ants walking over leaves, feeding on lumps of fruit. Her parents would never see them.
‘It’s called compromising,’ she’d told Dolly and had puffed out her chest, not long before Greta died. She wasn’t allowed pets so she secretly collected her own. Worms. Beetles. Once a butterfly. Flo had kept that just long enough to show Dolly. Her young neighbour understood that wild pets were only on loan.
They sat in the conservatory; Flo had insisted. When she was little she’d come over and Greta would read her books, with juice and biscuits, under a stream of sunshine. Flo’s parents, school sweethearts Mark and Kaz, both worked hard running their own cleaning business. Kaz was more hands-on with the staff and customers; she was far more of a people person than her husband. Mark enjoyed working with figures and spent most of his time in the office or working remotely at home when Flo needed him. It was a hectic life and the two sisters liked to help out. Flo always called into the lounge first to visit the one pet she’d been made an honorary co-owner of. Flo insisted she and Maurice had a special bond as they were exactly the same age: eleven.
‘I said hello but Maurice didn’t swim up to the side like he usually does. That sad octopus might be scaring him, so I turned it to the orange side.’
Dolly blinked away threatening tears that wouldn’t do, not in front of Flo. Growing up, she’d often thought her big sister looked sad but Greta had never opened up when Dolly was little, even those mornings when she’d ask why Greta’s eyes were red and puffy.
‘I like the mermaid,’ continued Flo.
‘Might become a girlfriend,’ said Dolly and she forced a smile.
‘Don’t be silly – even if she were real, a mermaid’s only half-fish. In any case, he might prefer a merman like Leroy.’
How quickly Flo had grown up. Would she still want to go around to Dolly’s for juice once she started high school, next year? What if Leroy got hurt in Jamaica? And if Maurice never recovered…
Flo stopped eating whilst Dolly told her about the café in Deansgate. She didn’t mention the notebook or year of firsts.
‘Amazing! Balloon debates are so fun. We did one at school and we had to choose someone we thought was a hero. I got it down to David Attenborough and my Auntie Fran. He saves plants and animals and she saves old people. Well, kind of. She works in a care home.’ Flo shrugged. ‘I chose Auntie in the end ’cos he’s nearly one hundred and one day she might end up looking after him. Heroes who save other heroes are extra special.’ Crumbs flew through the air as she rubbed her hands together. ‘Which character will you choose? If it’s Matilda, I could help. Of course, you’ll have to read the book first.’
Dolly stared at the vinyl flooring – pine-coloured, warm, and covered in dust. ‘What’s the point if I might not even get picked?’
‘I was scared, too.’
‘I’m not,’ said Dolly quickly.
Flo explained that was what she’d told her mum, but to her annoyance, Kaz saw through it. She gave her daughter a tip, said to make her speech funny. So she told them about Auntie Fran when she was little, how once she fell down the toilet backwards and got stuck for an hour. The whole class giggled. Her aunt never forgot how stupid and afraid she’d felt, and how she loved caring for old people and making them feel safe.
‘Didn’t stop her getting thrown out of the balloon. Auntie Fran couldn’t compete with Beyoncé.’
The knots in Dolly’s shoulders eased and now she wanted to know why Matilda was so naughty. The story took her back to primary school where she was picked on for not having a dad. Years later, she’d found out that the worst bully was beaten by her own father and had been jealous of Dolly for not having one around.
‘Dolly!’ Flo patted her arm. ‘I was asking, so why are you thinking about doing this balloon debate?’ She crossed her heart. ‘I’m really good at keeping secrets.’
Dolly fetched the notebook from the lounge and explained about the lost luggage auction, the gilet and beautiful ring, the bracelet, how she wanted to find Phoebe, how doing the challenges might be the answer. By the time she finished Flo was on her feet, doing a little jig.
