Sugar and Spice (22 page)

Mum agreed, not in front of Lisa. It was a bit of a comfort, but only a little bit.

Next morning, Mum shut the girls and Sammy away and we had our talk. Me and Mum and Dad. Mum said that she obviously couldn’t stop me speaking to Shay at school, “But I don’t want you seeing her out of school any more. I don’t even want you ringing her. I don’t want you having anything to do with her! Do you understand?”

I nodded, miserably.

“I want you to promise me,” said Mum. “On your honour!”

I had to promise; what else could I do?

“It’s for your own good,” said Mum. “A girl like that, she’s a really bad influence. It bothers me that you’ll still be with her at school.”

Mum needn’t have worried. Shay didn’t come into school on Monday; she wasn’t there all the rest of the week. Jenice Berry, who bunked off whenever she felt like it, said that she’d seen her hanging about in the shopping centre. And then, the following week, she came up to me and said, “Well, have I got news for you! Your friend Shayanne Sugar’s gone and got herself nicked.” Karina, who was there at my elbow, immediately squealed, “What for? What was she doing?”

“Stealing.”
Jenice said it with relish; you could tell she was really enjoying herself. “In HMV. I was in there and I saw her being taken away. I don’t reckon she’ll be back!”

She never was. That night when I was brought home in disgrace was the last time I ever saw her. I did so long to know what had happened to her! I begged Mum to let me ring her, but Mum stood firm.

“It’s best you just forget her,” she said.

But how could I? I’ll never forget Shay, as long as I live! When I’m grown up, and have passed all my exams, and have become a doctor working in a hospital – cos that
is
what I’m going to do – it will be all thanks to Shay. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d just have given up.

I’ve puzzled and puzzled why she ever bothered with me. I can still remember, right at the beginning, when she told me that maths was not her favourite subject, and I
said how it wasn’t mine, either, and she said, “Well, that’s one thing we have in common.” But we didn’t really have
anything
in common. Not really. Not even maths! Shay was good at maths. She was good at lots of things, but it was like she had this auto-destruct button inside her which she just couldn’t resist pressing. If ever it looked like she might be going to do something people would approve of, where they might say “Well done!” or “Good work!” she immediately had to go and press the button –
BOOM!
– so it all blew up in her face. Like if one week she got an A for her homework it seemed the following week she’d just have to get a D, or even an E. Or even, sometimes, no mark at all, when she’d filled the pages with her big angry scribble.

Shay could have got As practically all the time if she’d wanted, and I could never understand why she didn’t. I think now that maybe she didn’t understand, either, or that she did understand but there just wasn’t anything she could do about it, and that’s why she got so cross whenever I tried asking her. And cross when I let people like Julia get to me. It was like I had to use
my
brain to make up for her not using hers. It wasn’t that she didn’t
want
to use hers; she just couldn’t let herself. Maybe it was her way of getting back at her mum and dad for the way they treated her. That’s the only thing I can think of.

I tried explaining all this to Mum. I so desperately
didn’t want Mum to think badly of Shay! I told her about Shay’s mum and dad, and how they used to go away and leave her on her own, sometimes for days and days. Mum was quite shocked. “I didn’t know that,” she said. “That’s terrible!” And then she suddenly hugged me, which is something that Mum doesn’t do all that often; I mean, she just doesn’t have the time.

She said, “Oh, Ruth, I know things haven’t been easy for you, but we’ll try to make them better. We’ll get things sorted! It’s not fair, putting all the burden on you, just because you’re the oldest.”

I don’t know why Mum felt she had to apologise. It’s not her fault if Dad’s sick and can’t work and I was born first. I told her this. I said, “I’d rather have you as a mum than have a mum like Shay’s!” I think that made her happy cos she kissed me – which is something else she doesn’t have time to do, usually – and said, “You’re a good girl! I’ll make it up to you. I promise! I won’t let the others interfere when you want to do your homework.”

She doesn’t, either! She shoos them away and tells them to
“Be quiet.
Your sister’s working.” Ooh, it makes such a difference! They creep off as meek as mice and it means that I’m able to
concentrate.
I still go to the library sometimes, though. I’ve joined a homework club, which is fun, as you get to meet lots of people. The kids at school, they’ve mostly stopped bothering me. Just now and again the two Js try it on, like it’s a sort of habit they can’t break, but nobody takes much notice of them any more. Including me! The other day that horrible boy, Brett Thomas, told them to belt up. He shouted, “Knock it off, I’m sick of it!” Maybe he’s not quite as horrible as I thought he was.

Actually, nothing is – as horrible, I mean. Things are getting better all the time! I had a long talk with Varya, the day we went back for the autumn term. I’ve discovered that she’s really nice.

Her English has hugely improved, it’s almost as good as mine! This is because I’m helping her. We hang out together and I give her lessons. Mum and Dad have put in for a new flat from the Council, one with more rooms, and if we get it, which Mum seems to think we might, I could have a room all to myself! Hooray! Varya could then come and stay with me and that would be neat, as I’ve already been to stay with her twice. I’d really love to invite her back.

One morning, about a week ago, a card came through the letter-box with my name on it. It was from Shay!

Mum didn’t try keeping it from me. She said, “Here, it’s for you. I haven’t read it.” It didn’t really say very much; just a few words, in Shay’s big bold writing. But at least she’d written!

Wotcher, Spice! They’ve got me banged up, boo hoo! Think I’m too dangerous to be let out with all you law-abiding lot. Hope you’re working hard and giving the blobs what for. YOU’D BETTER BE. See yal – S.

I asked Mum if I could write back to her. There wasn’t any address, but I thought that if I sent a letter to her home, her mum and dad might forward it. Mum was reluctant at first, but then she relented, and so that’s what I’m going to do. She might not reply, but at any rate I’ll have tried. Even Mum has softened. She said the other day, “That poor girl! She never stood a chance.”

I thought to myself that without Shay I’d never have stood a chance. I know now that I can look after myself. I can survive! I’m not a scaredy cat any longer. If someone like
Joolyer
gives me any trouble – well! She’d better just watch out, cos she’ll get trouble back. You have to be prepared to stand up for yourself; Shay taught me that.

I shall never stop thinking about Shay, and wondering how she is. I know it’s true that she used people, and that I let myself be bullied by her. But I did speak up in the end! I didn’t go stealing when she wanted me to. And even though she tried to trick me, that last night, when she sprayed the graffiti, she did
come back for me. She didn’t have to; she could just have run away. I wouldn’t ever have told on her! The thumbscrew and the rack wouldn’t have got her name out of me. She only came back because in spite of everything, she was my friend.

She
was
my friend – I don’t care what anyone says!

The HarperCollins
Children’s Books

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Ltd

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Children’s Books
in 2005

Text © Jean Ure 2005
Illustrations © Karen Donnelly 2005

Cover illustrations by Nicola Slater

The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

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Source ISBN: 9780007161379

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