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For Zoe Cross, because she apologised
Table of Contents
“Right, girls!” Cass clapped her hands. “Big clean-up! Let’s get started.”
Em and I pulled faces. We weren’t used to doing housework! Cass is our auntie, and very easy-going. All the time she’d lived with us we’d just bumbled along in one big happy muddle. Now, suddenly, we had an emergency – today was the day when Dad’s new girlfriend was coming to dinner!
“You can stop all the huffing and puffing,” said Cass. “I want this place spotless! Who wants to dust, who wants to hoover?”
“Bags hoover,” I said. I like hoovering, specially when there’s lots of empty carpet. I’m not so keen on having to move things. Chairs and stuff. Mostly I don’t bother; I just go round them.
Cass pushed the vacuum cleaner towards me. “There you go. OK, Em, seems like you’re doing the dusting.”
Em gave me a venomous glare. She’s my big sister, so she probably thought she was the one that should have been allowed to choose.
“Here you are.” Cass tossed the sleeve of an old sweater at her. Sleeves of old sweaters were what we tended to use for dusting. Also socks with holes, and worn-out shirts. “Why waste money on proper dusters?” is what Cass used to say. She’s totally into recycling.
Em flicked half-heartedly with her old sweater sleeve.
“I’ll need a bit more energy than that!” said Cass. “And you, Bitsy.” She nodded sternly at me. “No missing out on corners.”
I said, “You can’t get into corners. Anyway, we did all this when Dad had his party.” Dad had invited everybody that worked in his department at college, and we had dusted and vacuumed all over the place. Why do it again so soon after?
“For your information,” said Cass, “your dad’s party was way back last month.”
“Was it?” I said. “Blimey!”
“I know,” said Cass, “it’s appalling. Most people do it once a week.”
“No, I meant blimey, it doesn’t seem that long ago.”
“Well, it is, so just get on with it.”
“What are you going to do?” said Em.
Cass cast her eye about the room. “I am going to clear up all this stuff.” She waved a hand at the dining table, which is hardly ever used as a dining table since we usually eat in the kitchen. As a result it is permanently covered in what Cass calls clutter. A big pile of clothes, waiting to be ironed. Someone’s school bag. Someone’s homework. Someone’s trainers. Books. Newspapers. Bananas. Bananas?
“Where does it all come from?” said Cass. “More importantly,” she added, “where is it all supposed to go?”
She began picking things up and throwing them into a bin bag. Em and I let out immediate wails.
“Those are my trainers!”
“That’s my homework!”
“Just for now, just for now.” Trainers and homework were tossed into the bag. “You can take them out later.”
On top of the ironing was a big fat fur ball, happily snoozing. It was Bella, our cat. She does a lot of snoozing.
“You can’t move her,” said Em. “Not when she’s settled.”
“Pardon me,” said Cass. “Some of us have work to do.” With that she plucked poor Bella off the ironing and deposited her, rather rudely I thought, on the sofa. Bella sat up, looking shocked.
“That’s cruel,” I said. How would Cass like it if someone plucked her out of her nice cosy bed and plonked her down somewhere else?
“Can’t help it.” Cass swept up the ironing and flung it in the bag. “Got to make the place look decent. We don’t want Caroline thinking we live in a tip.”
Caroline was the name of Dad’s girlfriend. Caroline Scott-Mason. Very grand!
“Cass is right,” said Em. “We have to make a bit of an effort. It’s only fair.”
She meant fair to Dad. It was ages since he’d had a girlfriend. Unless you counted Polly. Polly was one of
