Just Peachy. Jean Ure

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      “Oh, for God’s sake,” yelled Dad, “kill that damn radio!”

      For the second time, I leaned across and turned it off.

      “What do you mean, she doesn’t want to go to Summerfield?”

      “What I said. She doesn’t want to go there.”

      If I’d thought Mum’s reaction was bad, Dad’s was a thousand times worse. It was like his mouth opened and a bomb exploded, shooting words all over the kitchen. They bounced off the walls, banged against the windows. Mum waited patiently, drinking her coffee. I sat hunched on my chair, feet on the rung, elbows on table, chin propped in hands, my face covered. You can’t interrupt Dad when he is in full flow; you just have to take shelter until the storm has passed. As soon as it has, Dad becomes calm again. His temper is massive, but it usually dies down as quickly as it flares up.

      Mum said, “Right! Can we talk now?”

      “We’d better,” said Dad.

      “If you’ll just stop moving about and sit yourself down.”

      “I am sitting down,” said Dad. He pulled out a chair. “I’m in a state of shock. What is all this nonsense?”

      Mum said that unfortunately she didn’t think it was nonsense. “I think she’s serious… she doesn’t want to go there.”

      “I got that bit,” said Dad. “What I want to know is why?”

      “I think,” said Mum, “it’s because she feels scared of being overshadowed by Charlie and Coop. What with Charlie hogging all the limelight and Coop being some kind of prodigy – and then, of course, there’s the twins, when they come along. They’re not exactly shrinking violets, bless them!”

      Dad said, “You can say that again.” He gave one of his throaty chuckles. “Talk about a double act!”

      “Exactly,” said Mum. “You can understand if she feels a bit overwhelmed.”

      They were going on about me like I was deaf, or in another room. They did that sometimes. Just stopped noticing that I was there.

      “I don’t think we should push her, if she really doesn’t want to. I would hate her to end up with some kind of complex.”

      “It is the curse of coming from a gifted family,” agreed Dad. “There’s bound to be a bit of…” He waved a hand. “Well! A bit of… you know. Difficulty.”

      “Although she does have her own thing. Just because it’s not showy doesn’t mean it’s not as valid.”

      “All the same.” Dad slurped his coffee. “Hard act to follow.”

      “Very hard,” said Mum.

      “So! What do we do?”

      There was a pause. I waited for Mum to say something but she just sat there, munching her top lip.

      “Well?” Dad was getting worked up again. He slapped his hand on the table. “Say something!”

      Since it seemed that Mum wasn’t going to, I thought that perhaps I should.

      “You could always send me somewhere else,” I said.

      Their heads snapped round, like, Ooh, she’s there! She’s been there all the time!

      “We could.” Mum said it slowly, considering the idea. “But where would we send you?”

      “That,” said Dad, “is the question.”

      Eagerly I leaned forward. I’d been doing a lot of thinking about where I’d like to go. “What about Winterbourne?” I said.

      “Oh, darling, no!” Mum gave a little shudder. “Not Winterbourne! You’d be completely lost. You’d never survive! It’s far too big. And anyway, it doesn’t have a good reputation at all.”

      I didn’t care that it was big. I didn’t care about its reputation. All that interested me was that Winterbourne High was just about as far as you could possibly get from somewhere like Summerfield. Nobody would know me. Nobody would know my family. I could just be me.

      “It’s only down the road,” I pleaded. “I could walk there!”

      “But why would you want to?” said Dad. He seemed genuinely puzzled. Why would anyone in their right senses choose Winterbourne High over Summerfield? “Give me one good reason!”

      “You wouldn’t have to pay for me?” I suggested.

      Dad gave an angry roar. “Don’t you try pulling that one, my girl! There’s a little thing called equality in this house, yes? If we pay for the others, we pay for you. You’ll have to come up with something a bit better than that!”

      “I like the uniform?” I said.

      “Darling, it’s grey,” said Mum. Summerfield’s is bright red. Far more to Mum’s taste.

      I said, “I like grey.”

      “Nonsense!” said Mum.

      “Rubbish!” said Dad.

      “It wouldn’t suit you at all,” said Mum. “You need a bit of colour. Something bright. Put you in grey, you’d just fade into the background.”

      “Not,” said Dad, “that one chooses a school by its uniform.”

      “Well, no, of course. Absolutely not! But I don’t think it helps if it makes one look a total fright. And you know, darling, you do need all the help you can get. You don’t want to fade. How about Sacred Heart? That’s a nice school!”

      “They wear kilts,” I said.

      “I know. So sweet! That blue would really suit you. Bring out the colour of your eyes. Of course – ” a note of doubt crept into Mum’s voice – “it is all girls. I’m never too sure about that. On the other hand, you do have brothers, so maybe it wouldn’t matter too much.” Mum turned enthusiastically to Dad. “Do you know, I really think Sacred Heart would be a good choice!”

      “Bring out the colour of her eyes,” said Dad sarcastically.

      “Oh, don’t be silly! That’s neither here nor there,” said Mum. “I was just thinking how it was exactly the sort of school that would suit her… small classes, no pressure… no one to compete with. And all those lovely nuns! Let’s check out their website.”

      It seemed that my fate was sealed.

      “We are assuming,” said Dad, “that they can take her.”

      “Oh, I’m sure they will,” said Mum.

      Mum is always sure about everything, and it has to be said, she is usually right. She has this gift of bending people to her will.

      “Just leave it to me,” СКАЧАТЬ