watch TV and go to sleep. We wouldn’t be any bother at all, Daddy.’
By the set of his jaw, I could tell my father had already decided against it.
Megan studied his face.
‘No, Meggie,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid not. Maybe some other time. Maybe when we get a bigger house.’
‘But we’ll never get a bigger house.’
‘Sure we will. Maybe we’ll get a house with a rec room in it. Then you can play games and everything.’
‘By then I might be old and not want a slumber party.’
‘Sure you will.’
Megan fell silent a moment, her lower lip jutting over her upper. ‘I want a party now, not some far-off time, Daddy. Not someday.’
‘I know you do, kitten.’
Putting her elbows on the table, Megan braced her face on her two fists. She rolled her eyes in my father’s direction. ‘It’s not fair. I never get to do anything. Katie had a slumber party just last week. Katie’s had three of them.’
‘Yes, and you got to go to every one of them, didn’t you, Megs?’ Dad said.
‘That’s not the same.’ Megan’s voice had grown whiny. My father’s brows began to knit together when she spoke like that. ‘Well, it’s not, Daddy. Sometimes I want to do these things too. Sometimes I just want to be like everybody else.’
‘But you’re not everybody else, are you?’
‘No,’ Megan said in a low voice. I could see she was about to cry. Mama, next to her, was busying herself with the mashed potatoes.
‘Well then,’ said Dad, ‘that’s that. Just as soon as we’re in our new house, Megan has a party. I’ll mark that down in my diary so I remember. Just as soon as we’re settled.’ He looked over at her. ‘But in the meantime, young lady, take your elbows off the table and start on all that food.’
Megan was still teetering dangerously on the edge of tears. With one foot she kicked against the leg of the table. Milk danced in our glasses. Mama turned around and lifted the coffeepot from the stove. She asked Dad if he wanted more.
‘You know something,’ Megan said, her voice low and hoarse, ‘I don’t really like being in this family very much. In fact, I hate it.’
Without even looking up from his food, my father said, ‘You’re excused. You may go to your room, Megan.’
Megan just sat, kicking the table leg.
Lifting one eyebrow, he looked over at her. Megan threw down her napkin, rose and left.
I felt sorry for Megs. I knew exactly how she felt. Besides, it was easy to hear from her voice that she’d had the slumber party all planned out. You could tell that she’d most likely sat through all of Katie’s party the previous week, saying to herself, at my party we’ll have hot dogs, at my party we’ll watch Happy Days, at my party there’ll be even more girls than here. Megan always did have more dreams in her head than sense.
After the dishes were done, I stopped by her room. She was lying on her back on the bed, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling.
‘Look, I’m sorry about your not getting to have a slumber party, Megs.’
‘Go away,’ she said.
‘I know how you feel. I remember wanting stuff like that too.’
‘It’s not fair,’ she said. ‘He’s just mean.’
‘He’s not trying to be, Megs. He thinks he’s doing the right thing.’
She looked over. ‘It’s because of Mama, isn’t it? He just doesn’t want to bother Mama. Well, I didn’t hear Mama say anything against it. I didn’t hear her complain.’
‘Megs, it’s not his fault. It’s just one of those things.’
‘Well, whose fault is it, then?’ she asked and rolled over on to her stomach. The instant she said that, she knew the answer. Gently, she kicked at the bed with her foot. Silence followed. I picked at the wallpaper by the light switch. ‘You know what, Lesley,’ she said at last.
‘What’s that?’
‘I hate Mama.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Yes, I do. Sometimes I do. And you know what else? I meant what I said. I don’t really like being in this family very much.’
Then at last it was March.
‘Lesley? Lessie? Wake up.’
‘What do you want?’ Sleepily I rolled over to see Megan leaning over my bed. It was not even 6.30.
‘Are you awake? Get up. Come on. I want to show you something.’
‘Go play in traffic, Megan.’
‘Get up. Come here. Come in my room.’ She gave me a mighty shove.
Without any show of good humour, I got out of bed and followed her back to her own room. She ran across and bounced up on the bed.
‘Lookie here, Les.’
‘This better be good. Or I mean it, Megan, I’m going to murder you.’
‘Look.’ She had the curtain held back.
It was not quite dawn. Early March and the world for the main part was still winter grey. From Megan’s window I could see the big, leafless sycamore in the Reilly’s backyard, the street, the roofs of other houses, and out beyond them the dull, yellowish stretch of plains. The day was dawning clear and cloudless, but at that hour the sky was mostly without colour.
‘I don’t see anything, you little pig. What did you drag me in here for anyway?’
‘Down there. Look in the grass under the window.’
On the small stretch of lawn between our house and the Reilly’s, I could make out crocuses growing in the grass. White and yellow ones, forming letters, M-E-G-A-N.
‘Look at it. See? Someone’s made my name in flowers down there on the lawn. See them? I never noticed them until just this minute when I woke up and looked out. And there they were.’
I pressed my nose against the glass to see them better. The letters were surprisingly clear in the grass. Then the windowpane fogged over with my breath.
‘It’s like magic, isn’t it?’ Megan said. Megan was the kind of child to believe in magic. Although she didn’t admit it, I knew she still hoped for the possibility of fairies and elves and a real Santa Claus.
I tried to see down the strip of lawn to tell if there were flowers
