an amazing treat of cream cheese and smoked salmon in a strange round roll. (No wonder Jamie is chubby round his chops with all these delicious snacks on offer.)Jules had one of these bagel things too, and then went up to his room to get on with his homework.
All Jamie’s family are seriously brainy. Jules is going to take
twelve
GCSEs, and then there are two older brothers, both at university. Jamie’s mum and dad
lecture
at the university. He teaches French, she teaches Politics and Economics.
‘The Economics is a bit of a laugh,’ said Jamie. ‘Mum can hardly add up. She’s meant to pay me when I do stuff like vacuuming and that, two quid an hour, plus appropriate percentage for ten minutes extra, say, and
can
she work it out? Nope! Clueless, aren’t you, Mum?’
I didn’t think his mum clueless at all, paying Jamie a measly two quid per hour when the rock-bottom going rate was £3.50 and the Rosens right next door paid Jo a fiver an hour – dead Economical! Things got a bit awkward when Jamie’s mum started chatting about how she remembered me from way back when I had my hair in a pony tail (yuck!) and then she said: ‘And you always looked so cute because your big sister had a pony tail too, so you both walked along to the school, hair bobbing away.’
I smiled in a strained sort of way and decided to keep my mouth shut. But Jamie didn’t.
‘Oh, Mum, honestly! That wasn’t Charlie’s sister. She’s her mum.’
Jamie’s mum looked startled. ‘Good Heavens! Oh Charlie, what a lovely young mum you’ve got! Not an old bag like me, eh? What does your mum do?’
I swallowed. ‘Well . . . she used to be sort of a lecturer like you.’ It was true in a way. She was always having to give her staff a right lecture in her shop.
‘So now . . .?’
‘Now she’s – well, she’s been made redundant, I mean, it’s not her fault, she didn’t get the sack or anything, it’s just—’
‘Oh, tell me about it! We’re in a sticky situation at the moment too. We’re all very worried. So has your mother found another post at all?’
‘Well. Not – not lecturing. She’s having to do temporary work.’
‘I see. Well, I do hope things sort themselves out soon for her. Is it . . .?’ She paused delicately, trying very hard not to put her foot in it again. ‘Is it just your mother and you at home?’
‘Yes.’
Just Jo and me in a home we’re hanging on to by the skin of our teeth. If Jamie’s mum loses her posh job then they’ll maybe have to swop from smoked salmon to tinned, but they’ll still be able to live in their huge great house. OK, they have actually got a couple of lodgers right upstairs, two students from the university. They’ve got a bedroom each, a shared living room and kitchenette, and their own bathroom and loo. The students’ rooms are bigger than our flat.
It still leaves the Edwards with so many different rooms. This includes a
library
. They’ve got books in absolutely every room, even the downstairs loo, and there are shelves in the hall and the living room downstairs, but there’s this huge great room on the first floor absolutely crammed full of books, and there are shelves and shelves of Victorian stuff.
‘See,’ said Jamie proudly, pulling various volumes down and displaying them in front of me.
I saw. No wonder Jamie’s Victorian project was so brilliant. Still, he was letting me look at the books if I wanted.
‘You’ve still got time to do a proper project instead of that old diary thing,’ he said. Unwisely.
‘Cheek! I don’t want to do a boring old project. Who wants to be like everyone else? I’m doing my diary – and yes it is “old”, it’s
supposed
to be old, it’s meant to be written by a Victorian, for goodness’ sake.’
‘OK, OK. You don’t have to get all heavy with me,’ said Jamie. ‘You’re so fierce, Charlie.’
‘Fierce?’ I said. I said it again, savouring the word. I felt as if he’d paid me a real
All Jamie’s family are seriously brainy. Jules is going to take
twelve
GCSEs, and then there are two older brothers, both at university. Jamie’s mum and dad
lecture
at the university. He teaches French, she teaches Politics and Economics.
‘The Economics is a bit of a laugh,’ said Jamie. ‘Mum can hardly add up. She’s meant to pay me when I do stuff like vacuuming and that, two quid an hour, plus appropriate percentage for ten minutes extra, say, and
can
she work it out? Nope! Clueless, aren’t you, Mum?’
I didn’t think his mum clueless at all, paying Jamie a measly two quid per hour when the rock-bottom going rate was £3.50 and the Rosens right next door paid Jo a fiver an hour – dead Economical! Things got a bit awkward when Jamie’s mum started chatting about how she remembered me from way back when I had my hair in a pony tail (yuck!) and then she said: ‘And you always looked so cute because your big sister had a pony tail too, so you both walked along to the school, hair bobbing away.’
I smiled in a strained sort of way and decided to keep my mouth shut. But Jamie didn’t.
‘Oh, Mum, honestly! That wasn’t Charlie’s sister. She’s her mum.’
Jamie’s mum looked startled. ‘Good Heavens! Oh Charlie, what a lovely young mum you’ve got! Not an old bag like me, eh? What does your mum do?’
I swallowed. ‘Well . . . she used to be sort of a lecturer like you.’ It was true in a way. She was always having to give her staff a right lecture in her shop.
‘So now . . .?’
‘Now she’s – well, she’s been made redundant, I mean, it’s not her fault, she didn’t get the sack or anything, it’s just—’
‘Oh, tell me about it! We’re in a sticky situation at the moment too. We’re all very worried. So has your mother found another post at all?’
‘Well. Not – not lecturing. She’s having to do temporary work.’
‘I see. Well, I do hope things sort themselves out soon for her. Is it . . .?’ She paused delicately, trying very hard not to put her foot in it again. ‘Is it just your mother and you at home?’
‘Yes.’
Just Jo and me in a home we’re hanging on to by the skin of our teeth. If Jamie’s mum loses her posh job then they’ll maybe have to swop from smoked salmon to tinned, but they’ll still be able to live in their huge great house. OK, they have actually got a couple of lodgers right upstairs, two students from the university. They’ve got a bedroom each, a shared living room and kitchenette, and their own bathroom and loo. The students’ rooms are bigger than our flat.
It still leaves the Edwards with so many different rooms. This includes a
library
. They’ve got books in absolutely every room, even the downstairs loo, and there are shelves in the hall and the living room downstairs, but there’s this huge great room on the first floor absolutely crammed full of books, and there are shelves and shelves of Victorian stuff.
‘See,’ said Jamie proudly, pulling various volumes down and displaying them in front of me.
I saw. No wonder Jamie’s Victorian project was so brilliant. Still, he was letting me look at the books if I wanted.
‘You’ve still got time to do a proper project instead of that old diary thing,’ he said. Unwisely.
‘Cheek! I don’t want to do a boring old project. Who wants to be like everyone else? I’m doing my diary – and yes it is “old”, it’s
supposed
to be old, it’s meant to be written by a Victorian, for goodness’ sake.’
‘OK, OK. You don’t have to get all heavy with me,’ said Jamie. ‘You’re so fierce, Charlie.’
‘Fierce?’ I said. I said it again, savouring the word. I felt as if he’d paid me a real
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