Page 6 of Clara's Secret Garden
I regularly feel the brunt of Lois’s bad moods. It’s beenmuch worse since she was dumped by her fiancé, Ronnie. But I just brush off herremarks and remind myself that she has Irene for a mum and was having to getherselfready for school by the age of six. (Including making her own packed lunch.)When she mentioned this to me, it was almost in passing, and she shrugged whenshe saw my face (I was shocked). As far as she was concerned, that’s the way ithad happened, and that was that. She wasn’t bitter.
But it must have an effect on you, if your mum isn’t at allmaternal and you have to learn to fend for yourself from such a young age.She’s a pain in the arse sometimes, my stepsister. I’ll admit that.
But Lois loves her little half-brother.
And that makes her wonderful in my eyes.
*****
The courgettes are sitting in their box on the kitchenworktop, all vibrant and green and healthy, just glaring at me.
If I put them in the fridge, I know what will happen.
I’ll use a few and then forget about them, and the mush willbe carted away in a bin lorry in a fortnight’s time.
So I go online and find a recipe for a courgette frittatawith spring onions and tangy cheese, which sounds lovely and which I think Loiswill like. There are lots of courgette recipes, including one for a courgettecake,which makes me grimace a bit. I mean, why spoil a perfectly good cake by addingvegetables?
But I look at the piled-high box on the counter and I thinkto myself,why not? I’ve got nothing else to do tonight, except worryabout Gran. At least baking courgette cake will keep my mind off the bad stuff.And if it’s revolting, I’ll just throw it away.
In the meantime, I get busy whisking eggs, and a whilelater, I take a tray up to Lois’s room, knock and call out, ‘Room service,Madam?’
‘Come in.’ She grunts. ‘What the hell’s that?’
‘It’s like your favourite cheese omelette but with thecunning addition of healthy green courgettes, fresh from the garden.’
She takes the tray and looks at me with a frown. ‘What doyou mean? Fresh from the garden?’ She glances in the direction of the backgarden. ‘Please tell me you haven’t started trying to grow vegetables. Ithought you’d learned your lesson after your spider plant committed suicide.’
I look away, out of the window. ‘No, no. They’re...they’re from Luke’s mum. She has a surplus.’
‘Oh. Well, that’s a relief. If plants were people, you’d be servingseveral life sentences for murder.’
‘I would. You’re right.’ I nod cheerfully.
Lois takes a bite of the frittata.
‘Are you coming down for ice-cream when Bertie gets back?’
‘Yeah. Of course. Give me a shout.’
‘Okay. See you later, then.’
‘This is quite edible, by the way.’
On the way downstairs, it occurs to me to wonder why I didn’ttell Lois the truth about where the courgettes came from.
I think it’s because I’d rather Irene and Lois didn’t findout that I’m planning to overhaul Gran’s garden – mainly because they’ll thinkit’s hilarious and start making fun of Gran and me. And I hate that. I couldn’tcare less if they laugh at me – I’m well used to it by now – but not Gran...
Irene in particular has never got on with Gran. I think shewas always a bit jealous of her because Dad thought the world of his mum andwent over for supper every Wednesday night. Irene joined them a few times inthe early days of their relationship, but I think both women were heartilyrelieved when Irene started working at the casino at nights, so couldn’t make theweekly visits after that.
Gran thinks Irene’s a hard-faced fortune-hunter and doesn’ttrust her in the slightest, although she’s always polite on the surface. Iprefer to think that Irene has a heart – she genuinely loved Dad, I’m certainof that – but she’s just not very good at showing it.
I eat my own frittata downstairs at the kitchen table and asI’m clearing away, Luke’s mum, Jen, draws up outside. I wave at her from the dooras Bertie jumps out of the back of the car and Jen lifts his bike out of herboot. She high fives Bertie and he wheels the bike up the path, looking unusuallyglum.
‘A little angel, as usual!’ she calls with a grin, leapingback in the driver’s seat.
‘Yeah, right. See you tomorrow. Thanks, Jen!’
She gives me a thumbs up and zooms off.
