So we were going to inhabit the top floor. All by ourselves! Mum said we were extremely lucky that the flat was available. The last tenants had just moved out; we could see where they’d spilled stuff on the carpet and hung things on the wall.
“It really needs redecorating,” said Auntie Jay.
But Mum gave one of her hollow laughs, like ha ha you have to be joking, and said, “Wait till this lot have been in here a couple of weeks!”
“Mum, we’ll treat it like Buckingham Palace,” I said. “I promise!”
“Just don’t set fire to anything,” begged Auntie Jay, “that’s all I ask. Now, let’s take you on a guided tour.”
The main room, which was like a bedroom and sitting room all in one, was huge. It had a tiny little kitchen opening off it at one end, and an even tinier little bathroom at the other, plus a sort of broom cupboard with just enough space for a bed.
“I thought Ali could have that,” said Auntie Jay, “seeing as she’s the oldest. I’m afraid you two will have to share. Is that all right?”
There was just the one bed in the sitting room. It was a biggish sort of bed, but we’d never actually had to sleep together before.
“Blimey,” said Tash.
“You’d better not kick,” I said.
“You’d better not snore!”
Auntie Jay was beginning to look a bit flustered. “Maybe I ought to see if I can find another one somewhere.”
“Oh, don’t worry about those two,” said Mum. “They can make do. They’re practically joined at the hip, anyway.”
It’s true, me and Tash are the hugest of best friends. Mum says we are more like twins than sisters. Sometimes we pretend that we are twins, and then people just get so confused! You can see them looking from me to Tash and back again to me, not knowing what to believe. We happen to have been born on exactly the same day – yet we don’t look in the least bit alike. Tash is small and dark and elfin, with this dear little face, all beaming and full of innocence. (Totally misleading! Mum says she is a holy terror.) I am on the skinny side, with blonde hair, a bit straggly except when it has just been washed, and blue eyes. In my last school photo, although I say it myself, I looked positively angelic! This is also misleading, according to Mum. She says that when it comes to the holy terror stakes, “I couldn’t put a pin between you.” But physically we are completely and utterly different, and this is because we are actually not even sisters! We love to string people along and get them all wound up. And then, when we have teased them long enough, we put them out of their misery. We have this party piece that we do.
“Her mum – “ Tash says.
“Married her dad,” I say.
“Which means – “(both together)” – we’re not even related!”
Ha ha! Well, we think it’s funny. Sometimes we tell people the story of how Mum and Dad met up while me and Tash were still in Infants. We tell how they got talking while they waited for us outside the school gates. How Mum was on her own with me and Ali, Dad was on his own with Tash, and so in the end they decided to get married. How us three were bridesmaids, in little pink frocks. Just so-o-o sweet!
Yes, and it would have been even sweeter if Ali hadn’t gone and brought up her breakfast in the middle of the ceremony, though at least she managed to catch most of it in her bouquet, which Auntie Jay said showed great presence of mind. Personally I thought it was rather disgusting, but it is the sort of thing you expect from Ali. She is just so accident prone!
After we’d settled the question of beds, and had mastered the art of switching the cooker on and off and closing the fridge door properly – Mum seemed to think we needed lessons! She has such a poor opinion of us – we all went downstairs for a cup of tea. One of Auntie Jay’s friends was there, a woman called Jo Dainty, who used to be at uni with her. She said, “Well, I just hope you’re more capable than I was at your age … I couldn’t even boil an egg!”
“I can boil eggs,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound boastful but there are times when grown-ups really do seem to think we are quite useless. I mean, closing fridge doors, for goodness’ sake!
“Just don’t get too cocky,” said Mum. “This is going to be a steep learning curve.”
She added that she intended to make out a list of Do’s and Don’ts, and she advised Auntie Jay to do the same.
“I may even make a Book of Rules.”
She thought better of that idea, thank goodness! But the day she moved us into the flat she presented me and Tash with a couple of jotter pads and said she wanted us to keep a daily Food Diary and a weekly Activities Diary, so that when she got back she would be able to check a) what we had been eating and b) what we had been up to.
“Mum!” I said. “That’s spying!”
“It’s not spying,” said Mum. “It’s a way of keeping you focused.”
“So who gets to do what?” said Tash.
I said that I would do Activities, and she could do Food. Writing a diary was no problem for me, I already kept one anyway. Not that I would ever let Mum see my own personal diary! My personal diary is strictly private. I thought that for Mum it would be easy enough just to do extracts. Suitable ones, of course!
“What about Ali? What’s she going to do?”
Mum said that Ali was to be responsible for Fat Man. Fat Man is our cat. He is not really fat, it’s just that he has masses of fur, all puffed out like a big pompom, plus the most disagreeable expression, which in fact is every bit as misleading as Tash looking innocent and me looking angelic. In reality he is the sweetest cat and we all love him to bits! But it is Ali who specially dotes on him, so we didn’t mind her being put in charge. In any case, she would never have managed to keep a diary, she is far too disorganised. Unless, perhaps, she could have put it on the computer. Ali loves her computer! Needless to say, it was going to come with us. The computer and Star Trek are the two biggest things in her life – well, plus Fat Man.
Some
