Picture Perfect (39 page)

I stare at Annabel, and suddenly the relief is so huge I have to sit down before I drop my baby sister.

“So I’m not –” I swallow – “totally failing?”

“Harriet, nobody can be expected to teach themselves advanced A level physics. If they
could
, there probably wouldn’t be schools in the first place.”

Oh thank
God.
I
knew
damping was quite a tricky topic to grasp completely in ten minutes.

“But how did you …”

“She popped over to drop off some books for you this afternoon but I found her in my bedroom instead putting my brand-new leather Filofax into her backpack. Let’s just put it this way: Miss Hall won’t be ‘teaching’ in America again.”

I blink.

My admiration for Annabel just climbed another notch. Miss Hall must be at least a foot taller than her and several times wider.

“And second of all,” she continues gently, “I think you’ve had punishment enough, don’t you, sweetheart? I forgot your sixteenth birthday. I forgot to do a background check on your tutor. I was too tired to make sure you made new friends here or to notice how miserable you were. I can’t blame you for feeling forgotten about and I’m incredibly sorry that you do. And I promise you, this will never happen again.”

Of all the things I predicted Annabel would say – which was quite a few – this wasn’t even in the Top Ten List. I’m starting to think I should probably stop writing them in the first place.

“Does that mean I’m not being grounded again?”

Annabel grimaces. “No. We were too harsh in the first place: five days is far too long. I guess we’re new to this as well. Plus we’ve made some rather large mistakes too.” She sighs. “Perhaps you would like to ground me instead?”

I shuffle slightly closer on the sofa. “OK. But you can use the kitchen.”

“And the bathroom?”

“I might even allow you to take turns around the garden, like a Victorian lady with consumption.”

“You’re so very generous.”

We smile at each other, and I suddenly realise that maybe the reason I’ve never missed my mum is because I’ve always had one.

“So what happens now?”

“Well,” Annabel says more brightly. “I’m glad you asked because I’ve made this.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her briefcase and crosses off the first thing on the list.

I look at the list with a swell of admiration and approval.

If there’s ever been an argument for nurture versus nature, Annabel and I would be it. We’re like non-genetically related peas in a pod.

And, yes, I’d have preferred a double-lined heading and maybe a different-colour pen, but I can’t just go around forcing my plans on other people.

Ooh
.

Maybe I’ve learnt something in the last few weeks after all.

I smile. “Do you think they have a Paleontology group? They’ve just found a fossil of a brand-new miniature T-Rex in Alaska.”

“Let’s pop that on the list.”

Annabel gets out a pen and starts scribbling at the bottom of the paper.

At which point Dad clears his throat.

We both look up in surprise. He’s never normally this quiet. In fact, I think we’d kind of forgotten he was even in the room.

“That list won’t be necessary,” he says calmly.

“I think it will,” Annabel says, glancing at it again. “Harriet isn’t a little girl any more, Richard. We can’t just make her sit in Greenway with nobody to talk to except for her parents and a baby. It’s not fair.”

“I know. And that’s why we’re going home.”

’ve never seen Annabel speechless before. Today is just packed
full
of unexpected firsts.

She stares at Dad for a few blank seconds, and then says,“I’m sorry:
what
?”

“We’re going back to England. You’re exhausted and miserable, darling. You shouldn’t be stuck out here on your own any more than Harriet should.”

“But … what about your job?” Annabel objects. “I thought you loved working in New York.”

“It’s OK,” Dad says, shrugging. “But I love you both more.”

Apparently it takes seventeen muscles to smile, and forty-three muscles to frown. I have no idea how many Annabel is now using: her entire face is crumpling like a piece of paper.

“Really?” she says quietly.

“Really really,” Dad says.

“We can go home? Back to our house and our friends? You’re serious?”

“I have never been serious in my entire life,” Dad says indignantly. “But yes.”

Annabel puts her hands over her face.

“Oh …. thank
GOD.
I
hate
it here, Richard.
Hate
it. I love Tabby but I’m so bloody
bored.
Sometimes when nobody’s looking I put on my suit and make fake appointments in my Filofax and pretend to sue people on the phone. I even brought a little hands-free set so I could call up my office receptionist while I was out on buggy walks.”

She pulls a little earpiece out of her pocket and holds it up guiltily. “Audrey’s getting really sick of me,” she adds sheepishly.

“My lovely lawyer wife,” Dad says, grinning and kissing the top of her head. “That’s why I’m going to freelance. When Tabby’s on the bottle we can take working in turns. After all, I did it with Harriet and she’s turned out OK.”

“
Hey
,” I object. “What do you mean
OK
?”

Dad lifts his eyebrows. “Don’t push it, kid.”

I obediently close my mouth.

I’ve never seen my father look so in control. So … wise. So …
knowing.

I think I may have underestimated him.

“Because here’s the thing,” Dad says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little purple sock, “we aren’t three separate colours, Annabel. And if one of us isn’t happy, none of us are.”

OK, maybe I didn’t.

“
Seriously?
” Annabel says, mouth twitching slightly. “You just have to take the red and the blue things away from the white things, Richard. It’s not that hard.”

“Yes,” he says, lifting her chin with his hand and kissing her. “When they’re stuck together, it is.”

They smile at each other and something unspoken passes between them. And – for the first time in my entire life – I think I might know what it is.

“Now,” Dad says, flinging an arm out. “Thanks to my probationary period, we can be out of here in a week. So let’s get moving.” He flings his arm the other way. “We have curtains to bring down.” He starts pointing madly at them. “Plates to pack.” He pretends to pack up plates. “Driving to do.”

He energetically mimics driving.

“Give me your Powerband,” Annabel says drily. “All these hand gestures are making me feel seasick.”

Dad grins, takes it off and hands it to Tabitha instead.

“That’s my girl,” he says proudly as she starts shaking it up and down. “Earn Powers for Daddy. A few more and I should be able to fly us home on my bare shoulders.”

Annabel stands up and takes off her dressing gown.

Underneath it she is wearing a pinstripe suit.

“Don’t say anything,” she says as Dad and I stare at her in amazement. “Just … don’t.”

And as we start to pack our bags, I can’t help wondering if after all our adventures, maybe the biggest one is going home.

abitha screams all the way back to London too.

It turns out she just really doesn’t like planes that much.

I’m so delighted to be back in England, I don’t even mind when my face is crushed into a patchouli-scented left breast seconds after entering the arrivals lounge.

Even if it does mean I now have a permanent embroidery elephant outlined on my cheek.

“Darlings!” Bunty says, letting me go and kissing everyone vigorously. “Look how tanned you are! Doesn’t the exotic beach life suit you!”

“The exotic
beach
life?” Annabel says, clicking Tabitha back into her car-seat. She’s worn herself out and is sleeping ‘like an angel’, according to the airport security guard who clearly wasn’t on our flight. “Mum, we were in Upstate New York.”

“Were you?” Bunty says. “I thought you’d emigrated to the Bahamas.”

Dad looks at Annabel hopefully.

“No,” Annabel replies. “We are not emigrating to the Bahamas, Richard. But nice try.”

“I can understand why you’ve come back in that case,” Bunty says, retying her pink bun and sticking a loose twig into it. “But
what
an adventure. You’ll have to tell me all about it in three or four or five months’ time.”

We stare at her. “Where are you going?”

“Rio,” Bunty says, gesturing at her tasselled leather bag. “I’ve done my bit, and I’m off again. Not a big fan of this staying in one place malarkey. Bor-ing.”

Annabel leans forward and gives her a kiss. “Thanks for looking after the house for us, Mum.”

“You’re welcome, darling. Just don’t look at the curtains in the living room too closely.” Bunty pauses. “Or open the cupboard under the sink. Or the store cupboard. Or the shed. I may or may not have set just a
little
bit of it on fire during a very spiritual experience with an incense stick.”

Dad and Annabel say nothing.

I am very impressed by their serenity and calmness.

“Also,” Bunty adds cheerfully, “how many cats did you have when you left?”