V for Violet Read Online Free PDF Page B

funny?’
    ‘Nothing.’ I say brightly. Everybody’s staring at me now. Expecting me to say something. ‘Erm … Did you know,’ I mutter, ‘that Audrey Hepburn had to watch as some of her family was shot by the Nazis?’
    Jackie frowns. ‘And you think that’s funny?’ she says.
    I’ve embarrassed her. I didn’t mean to, but I have. And the stupid thing is, it’s me that’s blushing. It’s my face that’s burning up and it’s my stomach that’s gone all sick and fidgety.
    Jackie turns away from me and takes a big swallow of tea. The other girl, Pauline, pulls a face at her as if to say, who’s your friend?
    She’s got mean eyes. Like a blackbird. I have no idea why Jackie would want to be friends with her. She seems like a right stuck-up cow. I imagine Pauline flat on her back in the middle of the café floor, with me sitting on top of her, pinning her down. I grab handfuls of her perfect beehive and pull it all apart until she looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. ‘I’m sorry, Violet,’ she sobs. ‘I’m sorry for being such a horrible person. I’ll try harder from now on, I promise.’
    Of course, I’d never do anything like that, but it helps to imagine that I might. It’s like when you think about a teacher or a policeman sitting on the toilet with their underwear rumpled around their ankles. It makes them less scary somehow.
    They’re all talking about a dance now. A ‘work do’ next Saturday night at Garton’s. ‘You going to be wearing your red dress?’ Sharon asks Mary. ‘Cos if you are, I won’t wear mine. I’ll wear my green.’
    ‘But I was going to wear my green!’ says Jackie. ‘You know I bought it specially.’ Her voice is pretend cross.
    A layer of sadness washes over me. She likes these girls well enough to use her pretend cross voice. I’ve never heard her use it with anyone else but me and her nan. And worse than that, I don’t know anything about her new green dress.
    ‘Why don’t you all come round to mine next week?’ says Pauline. ‘Bring all your clobber with you and we’ll have a try-on session.’
    They all coo like a flight of happy pigeons. I’m obviously not included in the invitation. They chatter on and there’s nothing I can say to join in. So instead, I think about all the words I know for groups of birds: a murder of crows, a parliament of owls, a kettle of nighthawks, a company of parrots, a watch of nightingales, a pitying of turtle doves, and my favourite: an unkindness of ravens.
    Jackie used to love it when I told her things like this. ‘You’re so clever, Violet,’ she would say. ‘I don’t know how you have room in your head for things like that!’ Another layer of sadness washes over me. I’m thick with it now, like the grease from the chip fryers.
    ‘I’ve seen him making eyes at you!’ Pauline is saying to Jackie.
    ‘He doesn’t!’ Jackie protests. She wriggles her bum around and pushes me right to the edge of the chair. I have to hold on to the table now, to keep my balance.
    ‘I bet he’ll ask you to dance again!’ says Pauline. ‘I bet you’ll get off with him!’ Her voice rises to an excited squeal.
    ‘I will not be getting off with Colin Trindle,’ says Jackie, firmly. ‘I’m a good girl, I am.’ She giggles, and the sound of her happiness turns my stomach.
    I don’t know her any more.
    The old Jackie was never bothered about dresses and dances. The old Jackie was never bothered about fellas. We were going to do all those things one day, of course. But we were going to do them together; one day in the future. But somehow, and I don’t know how, Jackie’s future has arrived before mine.
    I stare at each of the Sugar Girls in turn. I can see Mary’s future already. Before too long she’ll be pushing a pram up the High Street, her stomach all fat and swollen with another baby and there’ll be old lady varicose veins winding up the back of her legs. And Sharon’s never going to look