Rose's Blog

24th January 2010

Kiran said, very dismally, "How unattractive would you say I was, on a scale of 10?"

So Molly said zero and I said ten, and then we sorted out the maths and explained that we both meant the same. Not unattractive one bit. Very funny and cool and quite pretty too. Very pretty in fact, and clever and good clothes.

"Except you shouldn't wear orange bras under white shirts," said Molly. "Because they show through."

"That's the whole idea," said Kiran, more gloomily than ever.

"Oh," said Molly and me.

"It's not fair," said Kiran. "You've got Kai, Molly, and Rose has Tom but I haven't got anyone."

I straight away offered the ever-available David who lives in our attic.

"No thanks very much," said Kiran.

"Borrow Kai," said Molly generously. "Keep him if you like him. He hasn't grown a millimetre since Year 6."

"Don't be daft," said Kiran.

So then Molly and I offered every single boy we knew and had control over (and that comes to quite a lot) and Kiran said, "Too thin. Too much into football. Too grotty. Too much Lynx. Too quiet. Talks a lot about himself. Keeps walking into things. No thanks, I've seen his scary dog. No thanks, I've seen his scary mum. No thanks, I've seen what he wrote on the bus shelter. He's got a weird laugh. He writes his own rap and sings it in assembly so you must absolutely be joking. He wears white socks. He hasn't grown since Year 6 either."

So we took her to the cinema to cheer her up and it worked. She came out in a daze, all dreamy and humming.

Molly and I gave each other significant looks.

"So now we know," said Molly.

"Yes."

"Poor Kiran."

I nodded.

"A vegetarian would be easy," said Molly.

"A vampire wouldn't be impossible," I agreed. "I bet my brother Indigo could find one. He was saying only yesterday that there's still quite a few goths about, if you know where to look."

"It's the combination, isn't it?"  asked Molly solemnly. "Especially round here. Athough I suppose..."

What? What? What can Molly suppose that makes her eyes sparkle like that?

"... she could always make do with a poster," said Molly. "Like everybody else."

Genius!

"They are three for two on the market," said Molly.  "You and I could have one as well!"

And so that's where we all rushed next.

Because Tom lives in New York, and makes his little sister write his valentines. And Kai really hasn't grown a millimetre since Year 6. And there just aren't any vegetarian vampires. Not, as Molly says, around here.

So!

24th December 2009

I am the only person awake in this house, because it is very early morning. So early that the sun will not rise for at least another hour. Outside, unbelievably, there is snow. It is not dark. The streets lamps are dull orange, and the sparkly little fairy lights that Saffy has tangled through the fig tree are icy white, and the snow is glowing with a light of its own. This Christmas Eve morning it holds a colour in its shadows that I know very well: indigo blue.

    Last night, all among the indigo blue shadows we went sledging in the park. Saffy and Caddy and Michael and Buttercup. Indigo and Sarah. David and Tom and me. Also Sarah's father, my mother, Molly and Kiran. It was amazing how the sledges appeared with the snow, bright moulded plastic ones mostly, but we have an old wooden toboggan too, and Molly had a wonderful homemade one that was faster than any other. It was all very noisy and cheerful and afterwards everyone came back to our house where the mistletoe that I had hung in every room was not wasted. It was very late before people went to bed; if they could find a bed: this house is packed and overflowing with people home for Christmas.

"The crowds are worse than New York," grumbled Tom. "I've hardly seen you all week, P Rose. Let's get up early in the morning and go sledging on our own."

"How early?" I asked, because my mornings have been early enough already lately, and that is because my share of the family Christmas squash is Buttercup. He is sleeping in my room and he is a very early riser, it seems to me (and by the way there is no better, (or worse, depending on how you look at it) chaperone than a two year old in your bedroom for keeping the boys away. (But I digress.)(It was quite deliberate too: Saffy thought of it, I know she did. Anyway.)(I am lost in brackets.))

"What time does Buttercup wake up?" asked Tom.

"Sevenish," I told him.

"Sixish, then," said Tom.

Sixish! But here I am, waiting and looking at the photos I took last night on my phone. Buttercup and David building a snowman. Caddy watching a squirrel. Indigo with Sarah balanced in front of him, swooping down the hill in a blur of snow. Michael, leaning against a tree and smiling as if it was summer while Molly and Kiran and Tom pelt him with snowballs which never seem to find a target because Michael is, and always was, part magic.

Here I am, but where, in all this overcrowded and unheated house, is Tom? And I suddenly wonder, was this all an awful joke, to see if I would do it?

This horrid idea sent me creeping upstairs, to the attic where Tom has a nice cosy patch of floor between Indigo and David as a temporary home. And there I found him, snuggled up to David's monster rucksack, under a pile of old quilts, fast asleep.

The snowball, with which I had fortunately provided myself, got the back of his neck.

Then very slowly Tom opened one eye, yawned one yawn, reached out one hand and pushed away the snowball, blew one kiss in my direction, and snuggled down again.

So I went back to bed.

1st December 2009

   Nearly Christmas and school pantomime time. Cinderella this year, and all my friends are in it. Molly is Chorus and Kiran is a Palace Dancer and guess who I am? Hot Stuff Rose from the market place, the unsecret love of Simple Simon, the Skateboarding Prince! But best of all is Indigo, because he is an Ugly Sister. Only he is not ugly at all, in fact he looks quite worryingly pretty in a dress. He has to ride a unicycle on stage because that is how the two ugly sisters get to the ball (Cinders goes in a wheelbarrow) and he has to sing a duet with the other ugly sister which he does very well indeed.

Everyone has promised to come. Michael and Caddy and Buttercup, and all the parents and  David and Saffron and Sarah. Sarah was not too keen at first though.

"How is that Icelandic witch?" she asked.

"Gone, gone, gone," I told her. "A hundred years ago. You have got to come and see Indy in a purple dress with a pink wig, Sarah! You may never get the chance again.

    "Pink and purple?" asked Sarah. 

    "And doing a fan dance and singing a duet with the other ugly sister. Angel of the Morning. Reggae, with harmonies!"

    "Oh Rose, it's a bit tempting," said Sarah. "I so rarely get a chance to show off my wolf whistling skills."

    "And later he rides a unicycle with his skirt hitched up."

    "Okay I'm coming," said Sarah. "Save me a seat at the front and don't sell tickets to anyone from Iceland (the country not the supermarket)."

 

So I agreed.

 

Tom was a lot easier to persuade.

"Absolutely I'm coming," he said. "I'll be there if I have to swim. What fantastic casting! Hot stuff, Rose! And it's about time Sarah and Indy got together again. She'll never be able to resist him when she sees in him a dress but just in case, Rosy Pose, it might be a good idea to have some mistletoe about."

Oh yes. It might.

"Are you really truly coming?" I asked.

"I'm counting the hours," said Tom.

 

So am I!