The Shell House by Linda Newbery Read Free Book Online Page B

not asking for you to
pay
for me to get it done! Why do I have to be the only one with parents who treat me like I’m six years old?’
    ‘You are
not
going to mutilate yourself,’ said their father. ‘You’re too young, and besides it looks tarty.’
    ‘No, it doesn’t! What do you know?’
    ‘Give it a rest,’ Greg said. He went to the fridge for a Coke.
    She turned on him. ‘Who asked you, gimpfeatures?’
    ‘Katy, for goodness’ sake!’ Their mother was boxing up a cake, tying it with shiny ribbon and running the blade of her scissors down the ribbon-ends to make them spring into curls. ‘If you can’t speak nicely to
any
one, go to bed! And try to wake up in a better mood tomorrow. I think we’ve exhausted the subject. We’ve said no and that’s it.’
    Katy started banging about in the cupboard. She reached for a packet of biscuits, took one out and ate it, scattering crumbs. ‘Why aren’t there any chocolate digestives left? I bet Greg the Gannet’s scoffed the lot. Anyway, you’ve got pierced ears, Mum, so how can
you
talk?’
    ‘Tell you what, Katy, why don’t you get your lips stapled together?’ Greg suggested pleasantly.
    Katy flounced out. ‘I’m going to phone Lorrie. I need to talk to someone intelligent.’
    Their mother put the cake-box to one side and took the wire tray to the sink. ‘Oh, dear. Teenagers!’ She looked at her husband. ‘What did we do to produce such a monster of ingratitude?’
    ‘It’s just a phase,’ said Greg’s dad, flicking through the local free paper.
    ‘Lucky you’ve got me,’ Greg remarked. ‘Always charming, witty and sociable.’
    ‘You had your moments,’ said his mum. ‘Still do, sometimes. How about making us all some coffee, love?’
    Greg filled the kettle, thinking about Jordan’s sister. What if it had been Katy rushed to hospital? Right now, he’d most likely think
bloody good job
— she was such a pain. But she was still his sister, and he’d have to forgive her for being as obnoxious as she liked if she had something awful like kidney failure. The threat of serious illness hanging over his family was hard to imagine—they were never ill, any of them, apart from ordinary coughs and colds. Really, when you thought of all the things that could go wrong, it was amazing that most people’s bodies were in perfect working order. He saw Jordan’s sister as a pale, sickly creature in St Ursula’s uniform (unsettling, as he thought of St Ursula’s as a posh school for daughters of the wealthy); then he pictured Jordan powering through the water, his shoulders gleaming. Michelle had drawn the short straw in that family, then.
    ‘Doing anything this weekend?’ he asked Jordan on Friday.
    ‘Inter-club swimming Saturday night, at Chelmsford. Apart from that it’s all family stuff. My grandparents are coming over to see Michelle—she should be coming home on Sunday. You?’
    ‘Working Saturday. Nothing much else.’
    It was Bonnie’s birthday on Saturday, and she and friends were going to the Forest Tavern. Greg had been about to ask Jordan if he wanted to go—partly through curiosity about how things might shape up with Madeleine—but now thought better of it. Jordan gave the impression of having a full and well-organized life; even the hospital crisis had been swiftly assimilated, without fuss. On his return to school, he had answered Greg’s questions without appearing keen to discuss the subject at length.
    Greg ended up going to a party with Gizzard. He hadn’t meant to, but the doorbell rang just as he was getting ready to go to the Tavern. Gizzard, gelled and grinning, was on the front doorstep.
    ‘Hi, fleapit. Come to whisk you away from this humdrum life to a night of wine, women and song.’
    ‘I can’t sing.’
    ‘OK, wine and women, then. Two out of three’ll have to do. Your charabanc awaits.’
    ‘My what?’
    Gizzard waved an expansive hand, gesturing towards the road outside; Greg saw a Mini parked under