Page 16 of One Step Behind
‘It’s always cold in here, Nan,’ Sophie says, without looking up.
‘Well, let’s put the fire on for a change. We don’t want Matthew catching a chill on his first day.’
Her nan stoops down to the gas fire and twists the grey knob at the end. Gas shushes out like air from a balloon and there’s a clonk, clonk, clonk before the flames jump into life and the smell of sweets is replaced with burning dust.
‘That’s a lovely t-shirt, Sophie,’ her nan says, giving Sophie’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Matthew is going to really like it.’
‘How do you know?’ she asks. ‘What if he doesn’t like pink?’I don’t even like pink that much.
Her nan makes a frowny face. ‘Of course he will. And he’ll like you too. You don’t need to worry.’
Her nan shuffles out and a minute later Sophie hears the sound of the kettle boiling. Her mum and dad will be back soon and this time Matthew will be with them.
She looks down at the t-shirt her mum and dad gave her that morning. The material is thick and very pink, and written across the front in white plasticky writing are the words ‘Big Sister’.
She would’ve preferred a Furby toy. The purple one with the sticky-up white hair like her friend Charlotte got for her birthday.
‘You’re a big sister now, Sophie,’ her mum said, handing her the new t-shirt. ‘It’s your job to look after Matthew. You have to promise you’ll always be there for him.’
‘I promise. I pinky promise.’
The doorbell chimes its four-note bing, bing, bing, bong. It’s hot now, reminding Sophie of her classroom in summer when the air feels thick, like trying to breathe through the gloopy yellow custard they serve with the jam sponge on Tuesdays.
‘Sophie, they’re here,’ her nan calls, as if Sophie hasn’t figured it out for herself.
This is it, she thinks. She’s getting a brother. She hopes he’s the nice kind. Not the pick-his-nose-and-flick-it-at-her type, like some of the boys in her class. Sophie smiles. Maybe she is excited after all.
As her nan opens the front door, Sophie stands up, moves forward, then back. She perches on the sofa and then tries the armchair. Nothing feels right. Inthe end she sits back on the carpet and arranges the colouring pens in a neat line.
‘In we go,’ her dad says. ‘Watch your step now.’
‘Well, hello. Aren’t you a handsome boy,’ her nan coos.
The door to the front room opens and Matthew is guided in with her parents behind him, then her nan. When everyone is in, the grown-ups fan out and stand back.
Matthew looks around at the faces. Sophie thinks he’s going to cry and bites her lip as the desire to laugh bubbles inside her. Sophie doesn’t want to laugh. She’ll get in trouble and might upset her new brother. He is the smallest five-year-old Sophie has ever seen. He looks like a toddler. She remembers that from last time too – the tiny mouse of a boy who didn’t speak.
Matthew’s t-shirt is too big and hangs off him, like when Sophie borrows one of her mum’s old t-shirts for painting. Matthew’s t-shirt is blue and has ‘Little Brother’ written on it in the same white writing as hers. He catches Sophie staring and touches the letters.
‘Would you like some cake, Matthew?’ her nan asks, waving a slice of chocolate Swiss roll in front of him. The heat from the fire has made the icing melt and the sponge look all splodgy.
‘Can I have a bit, please?’ Sophie asks.
She looks around, but no one seems to have heard her.
Sophie’s mum, dad and nan hover on the edges of the room, talking about the weather, pretending everything is normal. Sophie picks up a pen, careful to keep the rest of the line in place, and returns to her colouring. So much for exciting. This is boring.
Matthew walks to the fire, each step slower thanthe last. Then he plonks himself down on the carpet, transfixed by the orange and blue flames shooting straight up behind the metal grille.
Sophie feels the eyes of her parents on them both, like they are in one of those wild-animal documentaries and everyone is waiting to see what she and Matthew will do next.
‘Would you like a drink, Matthew?’ her dad asks, already making a beeline for the door and probably the tins of beer Sophie saw him stash in her nan’s fridge when they dropped her off. He stands by the door, looking expectantly at Matthew.
‘Kettle’s just boiled,’ her nan chips in, filling the silence.
‘Are you going to say something?’ Sophie asks Matthew.
Matthew doesn’t move or reply. It’s like he’s alone and doesn’t know they’re there, Sophie thinks.
