drinking cups of coffee, spiked with a small bottle of Baileys that she produced from her bag.
Bells has been extraordinarily quiet, I think happily to myself. Perhaps I will treat her to a quick lunch … I find her sitting on the floor, the T-shirts heaped around her in a muddle.
‘Bells, what have you done?’ I cry out, kneeling down next to her and picking up one of the black shirts with a small red heart printed on the breast line. I’d thought I could trust her with cotton T-shirts. I mean, how wrong can you go?
‘Unpacking shirts,’ she says with surprisingly little interest, followed by a cough. Isn’t it obvious how angry I am? I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Finally, ‘How many have you done?’ I whisper in despair, picking up the labels she’s cut out that look more like silk raffle tickets strewn haphazardly over the floor. ‘People buy these shirts
because
of the labels. They’re French designer labels.’ I can’t look at her otherwise I might hit her. ‘What were you thinking of, cutting them all out?’
Bells stands up.
‘Don’t touch anything else, you hear me? Leave everything alone.’
‘Help Katie. You said unpack everything?’
‘No! Leave everything alone. If you touch one more I will be really angry. Why did you cut them out? Did I tell you to cut out the labels? You stupid, stupid girl!’ I scream at her, almost in tears. I can’t cope any more. Please come back, Mum and Dad. I can’t do this. You’re right, I am a terrible sister.
‘Not stupid, Katie. Not stupid.’ Bells rushes out of the room.
I stand looking at the muddle of T-shirts, too paralysed to do anything constructive. All I can do is will the labels magically to return to where they belong. I hear a door shut downstairs so try to compose myself for the next customer.
‘Hello,’ I say, walking towards a tall slim man.
‘Hi, I’m looking for a present, I wonder if you can help me?’
‘Where’s Bells?’ I say out loud.
‘Sorry?’ he says, looking puzzled. ‘Who’s Bells?’
‘My sister. Did you see someone running out of the shop?’ I can hear the tone of my voice rising in fear.
‘No, no one.’ He shakes his head.
‘Can you come back later?’ I push him towards the door.
‘Hey!’ he protests, hanging back. ‘I came here especially to buy my cousin a birthday present,’ he explains. ‘Hang on, haven’t we met before? In Sainsbury’s?’
‘Have we?’ I say agitatedly. ‘Look, my sister …’
‘The one who kept on asking me my age? I remember her.’
‘Yes, she’s run off.’ I shut the door behind me and then realize I need the keys to lock up. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ I say, going back inside and grabbing my handbag from behind my desk. I plunge into it as if it were a lucky dip, hoping to pick out the right keys. Instead I can feel Bells’s inhaler, which I throw on to the shop floor. My powder compact is chucked after it in frustration. Why do I always pick out everything from my bag except my shop keys?
‘Look, let me help,’ the man is saying. ‘Where do you think she might be?’
I let out a frustrated yelp. ‘I don’t know, she could be anywhere. If I knew … Oh, where
are
they?’
‘Keep calm,’ he says.
If my stare was venomous I would kill him on the spot. Finally I find the right keys. Where is Eve when I need her? Why did she have to be sick today of all days? I scribble on a piece of paper ‘Back in half an hour’ and pin it haphazardly to the door.
‘OK, here’s what we do,’ the man says authoritatively. ‘You go across the park, I’ll go on the main road, and we both head for the tube station and the shops. If you find her, whistle like this.’ He puts his hand to his mouth and belts out a loud whistle. ‘It works in the classroom,’ he adds.
I breathe deeply. ‘I can’t do that, I’ve always wanted to.’
‘Well, use a real whistle then. I’m a teacher,’ he quickly explains. ‘Always keep one on me for
Bells has been extraordinarily quiet, I think happily to myself. Perhaps I will treat her to a quick lunch … I find her sitting on the floor, the T-shirts heaped around her in a muddle.
‘Bells, what have you done?’ I cry out, kneeling down next to her and picking up one of the black shirts with a small red heart printed on the breast line. I’d thought I could trust her with cotton T-shirts. I mean, how wrong can you go?
‘Unpacking shirts,’ she says with surprisingly little interest, followed by a cough. Isn’t it obvious how angry I am? I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Finally, ‘How many have you done?’ I whisper in despair, picking up the labels she’s cut out that look more like silk raffle tickets strewn haphazardly over the floor. ‘People buy these shirts
because
of the labels. They’re French designer labels.’ I can’t look at her otherwise I might hit her. ‘What were you thinking of, cutting them all out?’
Bells stands up.
‘Don’t touch anything else, you hear me? Leave everything alone.’
‘Help Katie. You said unpack everything?’
‘No! Leave everything alone. If you touch one more I will be really angry. Why did you cut them out? Did I tell you to cut out the labels? You stupid, stupid girl!’ I scream at her, almost in tears. I can’t cope any more. Please come back, Mum and Dad. I can’t do this. You’re right, I am a terrible sister.
‘Not stupid, Katie. Not stupid.’ Bells rushes out of the room.
I stand looking at the muddle of T-shirts, too paralysed to do anything constructive. All I can do is will the labels magically to return to where they belong. I hear a door shut downstairs so try to compose myself for the next customer.
‘Hello,’ I say, walking towards a tall slim man.
‘Hi, I’m looking for a present, I wonder if you can help me?’
‘Where’s Bells?’ I say out loud.
‘Sorry?’ he says, looking puzzled. ‘Who’s Bells?’
‘My sister. Did you see someone running out of the shop?’ I can hear the tone of my voice rising in fear.
‘No, no one.’ He shakes his head.
‘Can you come back later?’ I push him towards the door.
‘Hey!’ he protests, hanging back. ‘I came here especially to buy my cousin a birthday present,’ he explains. ‘Hang on, haven’t we met before? In Sainsbury’s?’
‘Have we?’ I say agitatedly. ‘Look, my sister …’
‘The one who kept on asking me my age? I remember her.’
‘Yes, she’s run off.’ I shut the door behind me and then realize I need the keys to lock up. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ I say, going back inside and grabbing my handbag from behind my desk. I plunge into it as if it were a lucky dip, hoping to pick out the right keys. Instead I can feel Bells’s inhaler, which I throw on to the shop floor. My powder compact is chucked after it in frustration. Why do I always pick out everything from my bag except my shop keys?
‘Look, let me help,’ the man is saying. ‘Where do you think she might be?’
I let out a frustrated yelp. ‘I don’t know, she could be anywhere. If I knew … Oh, where
are
they?’
‘Keep calm,’ he says.
If my stare was venomous I would kill him on the spot. Finally I find the right keys. Where is Eve when I need her? Why did she have to be sick today of all days? I scribble on a piece of paper ‘Back in half an hour’ and pin it haphazardly to the door.
‘OK, here’s what we do,’ the man says authoritatively. ‘You go across the park, I’ll go on the main road, and we both head for the tube station and the shops. If you find her, whistle like this.’ He puts his hand to his mouth and belts out a loud whistle. ‘It works in the classroom,’ he adds.
I breathe deeply. ‘I can’t do that, I’ve always wanted to.’
‘Well, use a real whistle then. I’m a teacher,’ he quickly explains. ‘Always keep one on me for
Similar Books
