Sugar and Spice (14 page)

“Get a load of this,” she said, holding out a carrier bag. “I’ve been round the stores, getting stuff for our tea. What d’you reckon?”

I took one look in the bag and went, “Wow!”

“Is it enough?”

“That’d feed an army,” I said.

It looked like she’d visited every food shop in the centre. There was stuff from Sainsbury’s, stuff from Marks, stuff from the cake shop in the Arcade, stuff from the chocolate shop on the top level, even stuff from the health food shop.

“Yeah, I dunno about that,” said Shay. “I’m actually getting into junk food right now. It’s just they had this lying about, so I took some. Oh, and look! I got this for you.” She thrust her hand into the bag and pulled something out. Garlic! “Remember, if the Vampire appears, just hold it up, like this, then she can’t get you.”

I giggled, but a bit uncertainly. I said, “That’s a joke, right?”

“Best not take any chances,” said Shay.

We caught the bus to Shay’s place. She lived up on the hill, just out of town, in an actual real house with its own grass outside, and a proper bit of garden at the back.

Shay said, “Stupid if you ask me! Why can’t we all live in flats? Wouldn’t take up nearly as much space.”

I expect that is true, but I don’t care! I have decided that when I am grown up and can afford it, that is when I am a doctor – if I get to pass my exams – I am going to have a house
just like Shay’s.
Shay said, “It’s not anything special. There’s houses heaps bigger than this. This is just a titchy little thing.”

Well! It may have seemed titchy to her, but I could hardly believe it. It had three floors, with different sorts of rooms on each floor, like a special room for watching
television in and a special room for eating in and a basement where the kitchen was. Shay said we’d go down to the kitchen first of all and dump our junk food ready for later. The way she said it, “our junk food”, she made it sound like it was some sort of gormy dish that you might get in a restaurant. Except that I don’t think it’s spelt gormy, cos I think it’s French. I think it might be
gourmet.

“Bacon-flavoured crisps,” said Shay, lovingly. “Chocolate-covered jelly babies…fudge ice cream. This is going to be good!”

She led the way down some steps and into this huge great room like an underground cavern. There was a long counter running down the middle and rows of pots and pans, and strings of onions hanging off the walls.
The kitchen! It was practically as big as the whole of our flat. I thought to myself how Mum would love it; she’s always complaining how she can’t move for tripping over bodies.

“Right.” Shay laid out all her bits and pieces, her bacon-flavoured crisps and chocolate-covered jelly babies, and sticky buns and sausage rolls, in a long line across the counter. “We’ll leave our junk food
here,
” she said, moving a potted plant out of the way. “And now we’ll go up to my room.”

Shay’s room was on the top floor. All the time we’re going up the stairs I’m, like, looking over my shoulder in case her mum, the Vampire, might suddenly appear.

“It’s OK,” said Shay. “I told you, she hardly ever gets out of her coffin till five o’clock. They shrivel in the light, vampires do.”

I whispered, “W-where is her coffin?”

Shay cackled and said, “In there!” pointing at a room on the second floor. “Better tiptoe or she might wake up and come and sink her fangs into us!”

I scurried like a frightened mouse up the last flight of stairs.

As I scurried I couldn’t help noticing how neat and clean everything was. At home we live in a state of what Mum calls “clutter”. There’s toys everywhere, clothes everywhere. Stuff waiting to be ironed, stuff waiting to be put away. Shoes. Socks. Dad’s breakfast tray. It just all mounts up. Plus there’s a big stain on the carpet where I tripped over with a bowl of soup (which I was taking in to Dad), and another, smaller stain where Sammy dropped his bread and jam and then went and trod it in, not to mention marks on the wall made by grubby fingers (mainly those belonging to the Terrible Two) and this thick oily dust, all black and treacly, that
leaks in from outside and is very bad, Mum says, for Dad’s emphysema and Lisa’s chest. (It’s why she snuffles all the time.)

There wasn’t any black dust in Shay’s house. There wasn’t any dust at all. No stains on the carpet, no marks on the wall. No shoes or socks or piles of clothes. It was just
sooo
beautiful! It’s how I shall keep my house, when I have one. It’s how I
try
to keep my bit of bedroom, but without very much success, cos it’s impossible to stop Kez and Lisa from trespassing.

As we reached the top landing, I hissed, “How does your mum keep it all so nice?”

I felt really ashamed when I compared what Shay’s place was like with how it was at home. I didn’t blame Mum for all the mess; I knew she didn’t have time to keep dusting and cleaning and tidying up. But I still felt ashamed, and wondered what Shay must have thought.

“Do you help?” I said.

Shay said no. “Mrs Kelly does it.”

I said, “Who’s Mrs Kelly?”

“Person that comes in and cleans,” said Shay. “Quick!” She grabbed me and pushed me ahead of her through the door. “Before the Vampire gets wind of us!”

I was quite astonished at the state of Shay’s room. On the door there was this big angry notice:
PRIVATE. KEEP OUT. THIS MEANS YOU.
But I didn’t think there was any need to have a notice; just one quick look
would be enough to frighten people off. It was like a tip! It was even worse than my bit of bedroom when the Terrible Two had been on the rampage. It looked like someone had emptied bin bags full of rubbish in there. Totally
in-de-SCRIBABLE.
But if I had to – describe it, I mean – I’d say:

Tops, bottoms, shoes, socks, knickers

Coke bottles, water bottles, sweet wrappers

Knives, forks, spoons

Books, bags, papers

Pens, pencils

Magazines

CDs

And just general
junk.

Loads of it, absolutely everywhere.

“You coming in, or what?” said Shay.

I slithered past a saucepan containing the shrivelled remains of what looked like spaghetti and waded across the floor through a sea of clothes.

“Don’t worry about that lot.” Shay kicked them, contemptuously, out of the way. “Sit down!”

I stared round, helplessly. Sit down where??? Every available bit of space was covered.

“Here!” Shay swept a hand across the bed and a pile of papers went flying up into the air like a flock of pigeons, then slowly settled back down again, all out of order. If, that is, they’d ever been in any order. Mine
always are, but that’s because I hate not being able to find stuff. It upset me, seeing so much mess and muddle.

“How do you know where anything is?” I said.

Shay said, “Don’t wanna know where anything is.”

“But how do you
find
things?”

“Don’t wanna find things. If I wanna find things —” she stuck her toe in the middle of the papers and stirred them up again, “I put ’em somewhere. All this is just muck.”

It
was
muck. I didn’t know how she could live like that!

“I thought you said your mum had someone that came and did the cleaning?”

“Mrs Kelly. Yeah.”

“So why doesn’t she come and do your room?”

“Cos she’s not allowed. No one’s allowed. Not without permission.” Shay marched over and yanked open the door. She jabbed a finger at the angry notice. “See? See what it says?
PRIVATE! KEEP OUT!
”

“Even your mum?” I said.

“My mum? What’d she wanna come in for?”

“Well…I don’t know! Put clothes away? My mum’s always coming into our room.”

“Your mum’s different,” said Shay.

Or maybe, I thought, it was Shay’s mum that was different. My mum was normal! Most people’s mums
went into their bedrooms. Millie’s mum did. Mariam’s mum did. Whoever heard of a mum being told to keep out?

“Wanna hear some music?” said Shay. She picked a CD off the floor. “What sorta music d’you like?”

“Um…anything, really,” I said.

Shay unearthed a CD player from beneath a pile of clothes and slid the disc in. A weird wailing and banging filled the room.

“Yay! Freaky!” Shay jumped on to the bed, and off again. “That’s cool! That’s my kind of sound!”

It was pretty loud.

“Won’t it wake your mum?” I said, nervously.

“Who cares?” Shay danced about the room, trampling on all the litter, some of which went
crack!
or
scrunch!
beneath her feet. I thought, this is gross! I was just so surprised at Shay, of all people.

“Ooh! Look at you!” Shay skipped round me, laughing and scrunching. “You look like a prune!”