Читать книгу The Elephant in the Room - Maya Fowler - Страница 11

1988

Chapter 6

Jane’s house is more fun than mine. Jane is my friend, and we’ve been in the same class always. Her mom always brings us tea and biscuits. Also, she has three Barbies and four My Little Ponies.

Since I stopped playing with Faye from down the road, Jane is my best friend. When Faye still lived close by, I often played at her house after school. But the problem with her was that she was a champion sulker. If she couldn’t be the princess, or we were playing the wrong game, or I wouldn’t share my money with her, she’d stop talking to me and stare into a corner with her arms folded. Or, sometimes, she’d start crying. That was the worst, and it was very boring to play her games or give her my stuff all the time.

In the winter holiday last year, when we were in sub A, Faye went away to visit people, and that’s when Jane and I started playing together. Jane’s house is a train ride and a short drive away from mine, or else just a longish drive. There’s another school close to where she lives, but her mom used to be a teacher at Kalk Bay, so that’s how come she goes to school there with me.

The house is big, with high ceilings. Jane says it’s a Victorian. There aren’t that many Victorian houses in Plumstead, Jane says, but her house is actually in Timour Hall, which is almost Plumstead, but much better. It’s painted beige with white icing. The ceilings are so far above your head it feels like you could breathe clouds into them. But the floorboards creak like mad, so there’s no such thing as sneaking around at Jane’s house. The garden is big with good hiding places behind plants, and a Wendy house at the bottom of the garden where we can pin up the pictures we draw. All Jane’s old toys are in there. We’re not babies any more, but we still like to play with her old Fisher-Price Activity Centre. My favourite is the fat plastic button you hit to make a bean shoot up a tube to make a bell ring. I love the squidginess of the button. Also the high-pitched ring, like a bicycle bell, only shorter: ping. Next to the tube is a picture of Jack and the beanstalk, with the plant running all the way to the top, where the bell is. Jane says her mom says the picture is in relief. I wonder why. We had a relief teacher for a week once. Maybe it meant she wasn’t real.

We play school, and take turns at being the teacher. We practise writing and drawing. We draw wave patterns called curly cuh. One day Jane whacks her teddy with the ruler because he’s making double lines on his letters. Afterwards she gives him a hug and whispers to him, “I’m sorry that I had to hurt you, Teddy. It’s for your own good. I love you, so I want you to learn to be neat and tidy.”

Sometimes Jane’s brother, Matt, comes in and rolls his eyes. That’s all. He just rolls his eyes when he sees us, and then leaves. He’s in standard three, so he thinks he knows everything, but most of the time he leaves us alone. When he has a friend over, we hear a lot of crashing and roaring coming from his bedroom, unless they’re watching Matt’s A-Team videos in the TV room. When they come out of there, you hear a lot of “suckuh fool” and “I piddy the fool”.

Just like us, Matt likes to draw pictures. Jane’s mom puts them on the fridge. There’s a castle I drew once, with pink flags, a shiny blue river and a unicorn, and lots of Jane’s princess and pony drawings, and Matt’s rockets and explosions. Some are just whirls of orange with messy red lines going off the page. “Abstract art,” their dad chuckles, and ruffles Matt’s hair. It makes him frown, and suddenly he doesn’t look so big, with a giant hand on top of his little blond head.

At the end of the passage is a tall mirror. It shows me a little girl with stubby legs and frizzy hair held back by an Alice band. The girl licks her lips and pulls on the skin until it bleeds. A pink ring, ringworm, I think, surrounds her lips. I wish the stubby legs would get longer and thinner, like Jane’s, which go up and up like poles into her shorts.

“Hey, you should stop that licking,” Jane warns. “My mom says that’s what makes your skin all raw.”

Sometimes we swim, and we watch TV. Jane’s maid, Eltrude, brings us cheese and Marmite sandwiches in front of the TV, with Coke, which is Forbidden at my house because Gran says it will make your teeth fall right out of your head. I know Jane would never tell.

We always take a toy to the TV. Jane likes to take her Pound Puppy, and I like Tropical Barbie. I play with her long blonde hair, and can’t stop touching her dress. The colours are so beautiful, I want to suck them up through my fingers, the lilac and dark purple. I’d love to have my own Barbie, but my mom isn’t sure it’s a good idea.

The Barbie, I love, but my very favourite toy is also at Jane’s house, though it usually stays in her room. It’s a yellow plastic squirrel on pink wheels. It has a really fat, curled-up tail, and diamonds for eyes. I can look at these eyes for ages. I love shiny stuff, but this is the best.