Page 33 of Clara's Secret Garden
Irene snorts with laughter. ‘Don’t be cruel, Lois. I’m sureshe’s trying her best. I bet you’ve pulled up all the flowers and watered theweeds, have you, Clara?’
I try to smile as they both guffaw with laughter, but thatold feeling of worthlessness is creeping through me. So much for Bertie keepingour gardening a secret! This is exactly why I didn’t want Lois and Irene tofind out about it. I knew they’d just pour cold water on my efforts and have alaugh at my expense. It shouldn’t matter but it does...
Bertie – totally unaware of all of this – is growing evermore adventurous with his juggling, and the plastic cupcakes are flyingeverywhere. When one bops his mum on the nose, she yelps in protest, and whenhe goes to retrieve it, she grabs him and pulls him onto the sofa between herand Lois, and they both start tickling him until he squeals for mercy.
I watch them, pleased for Bertie and relieved that ‘CharlieDimwit’ has been forgotten for now. It’s at times like these that I feel soalone, missing Dad like crazy. He was always so supportive of anything I triedto do and the gaping hole he’s left in my life will never be filled.
Irene yawns and stretches. ‘God, I’m knackered. I’m goingfor a lie down.’
‘I could show you how to juggle?’ Bertie leaps off the sofa,gathers up the cupcakes and tries to give them to Irene. ‘Go on, Mum. It’sreally easy once you get the hang of it,’ he says, repeating what I kept sayingto him when we were practising in the garden.
But Irene pushes his hands away and stands up. ‘Not justnow, baby. I’m too tired. Maybe later.’ As she walks out, she casually rufflesBertie’s hair, not even noticing the disappointment on his face. She’s alreadyreaching for her phone and I’d bet my life-savings she’s calling one of her friendsto tell them she’s bored witless.
‘You can teach me, Bertie,’ offers Lois, and in spite ofeverything, I’m grateful to her.
Bertie is smiling again so I leave them to it and go toclear up the kitchen.
Lois seems to be emerging at last from the pit of bitternessand lethargy she fell into after being jilted by Ronnie. She’s been so muchmore like her old self this past week. Lois in a good mood is funny andentertaining... she’s one of those people who can truly lightup a room.
‘Do you fancy coming over to my gran’s cottage for abarbecue tomorrow night?’ I ask her, when she comes into the kitchen.
‘A barbecue?’ She looks mildly interested.
I shrug. ‘It’s a sort of celebration, I guess, now thatwe’ve got the garden looking good again.’ I pause. ‘Rory will be there.’ I busymyself filling the kettle to hide the blush rising into my cheeks. ‘You knowRory?’
When I turn, Lois is looking less than enthusiastic. ‘Ofcourse I know Rory. He’s the bloke who cuts the lawns.’
‘So will you come? It’ll just be for a few hours and Bertie’sinvited too. And Luke could come as well, if he wants to.’
Hearing his name, Bertie comes running in from the livingroom, wanting to know what’s going on.
Lois gives me one of her sharp-eyed looks. ‘You and Rory? Abarbecue?’
‘We’re friends, that’s all,’ I say quickly, but I can feelmy blush deepening, no doubt giving myself away completely.
Lois is far too sharp for my liking. If she finds out Ilike Rory, she and Irene will never stop making jokes about me having a sillycrush...
She frowns. ‘Tell you what. You and Rory have your barbecueand I’ll take Bertie and Luke to the cinema to see that dinosaur movie.’ ‘Oh.Right.’ A little thrill rushes through me.
I’ll have Rory all to myself!
My excitement is mingled with a little disappointment. I waslooking forward to taking Bertie to the film myself. But watching my littlebrother leaping around the kitchen, punching the air at the thought of hisdinosaur treat, it’s fairly clear how he’d rather spend tomorrow evening! Ismile. ‘Right. That’s settled, then.’
‘Yay! I’ll phone Luke and ask if he wants to come with us,shall I?’ says Bertie.
‘All right.’ I grin at him. ‘But not too much popcorn andice-cream. You felt sick the last time.’
‘Okay.’ He beams at us and runs out.
‘I think he’s pleased.’ I smile wryly at Lois as he thundersup the stairs to his room. ‘Thank you for that.’
She grins, heading for the door. ‘You’ve very welcome. Trynot to set the garden on fire with your barbecue, Charlie Dimwit.’
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
It’s the following evening and I’m trying to remaincalm as I study myself critically in the full-length bedroom mirror.
I went clothes shopping this morning (Bertie was over atLuke’s) and spent far too much on a lovely white broderie anglaise shirt with ademure collar and pretty, bell-shaped sleeves. But now that I’ve tried it onwith my most flattering jeans, I’m realising it’s much too fitted and fancy fora casual barbecue. Worse, it’s a bit too tight, which means I’d be holdingmyself in all night. And I’d be far too hot in these long sleeves on such abalmy night.
