Anneli the Art Hater. Anne Fine
But Anneli’s mother came home from work far too worn out to start to bake for other people.
What about Jodie? Jodie and her little boy Josh lived in the top half of the house, and just as Anneli’s mother looked after Josh whenever Jodie had to work in the evenings, so Jodie was in charge of Anneli when Anneli’s mother was teaching dance classes at the Leisure Centre.
Would Jodie help her bake cakes?
Probably she would. But she’d have to let Josh help – she was his mother, after all – and Josh was only two and a half. He was a messer. He’d drop the egg shells in the cake mixture, and fiddle with the oven dial so the cakes cooked too slowly, or too fast. He’d spoon the runny icing over the tops while the cakes were still too hot, and put the cherry halves on upside down.
He’d ruin the whole batch. Anneli knew it.
She reached the corner.
The great wrought-iron gates guarding the driveway that led up to Carrington Lodge were padlocked shut, as usual. As usual, Anneli stopped, dropped her school bag and clutched the bars, peering inside. The Lodge was now a children’s home, and sometimes, in fine weather, the children could be seen in the gardens, some lying on rugs on the lawns, some rushing around in their wheelchairs, some being carried to and fro by paid helpers like Jodie.
Anneli liked to wave, if they were there. They always waved back, if they could. They all knew Anneli because Jodie sometimes took her and Josh along.
Today there was no one in sight. Only the drive and what little could be seen of the long sloping lawns, and the six great holly trees shading the high stone wall behind. No point in hanging about. Anneli picked up her bag and strolled on, into her own street, her thoughts turning back to Henry and his ideas for making money.
Cake baking might be out, but what about the other two ideas? What were they, now? Oh, yes. Sweeping up leaves. Ridiculous! Anneli hadn’t seen a dead leaf in months.
And looking for precious things in attics.
What attics?
Anneli sighed. Honestly, sometimes Henry was hopeless. She might as well go home and ask her mother’s advice about raising money – yet again.
As she came up the path between the two houses, Anneli caught sight of Old Mrs Pears’ pale face at one of next-door’s upstairs windows.
Old Mrs Pears waved.
Anneli waved back, politely feigning a happy smile. When your own teacher’s grandmother lives next door, you don’t take chances.
Safe in the porch, her smile dropped away like a discarded mask, and moodily pushing the door open, Anneli walked in.
2
‘Got an attic!’
Behind the door, Josh was waiting with his thumb in his mouth and the purple velvet cloth he loved clutched in his fist as usual.
‘Hello, Josh.’
‘’Lo.’
He followed Anneli along the hall and into the kitchen. Here, Josh’s mother was busy cooking.
‘Hi, Jodie.’
‘Hello, Anneli. Good day?’
But Jodie didn’t wait for Anneli to answer because the sharp smell of burn had suddenly risen from the pan and started to fill the kitchen. Hastily Jodie turned her back and started furiously stirring.
Anneli was curious. ‘Is supper going to be very early?’
‘No,’ Jodie told her. ‘It’s just that it’s my turn to cook but I have a most important meeting just before.’
‘About Carrington Lodge? And the children?’
‘Yes.’ But, though she looked worried, Jodie didn’t go on to explain. In any case, she was busy rattling through the drawer in search of the bread knife. ‘Here, Anneli. Do me a giant favour and make a couple of sandwiches to keep you and Josh alive till supper.’
Josh stood in the doorway, holding his precious purple cloth to his cheek as he watched Anneli carefully slice the loaf. As she spread peanut butter, she asked Jodie, ‘Will Mum be home soon?’
‘Not for another hour. Someone was sick so Helen’s had to stay to teach another class.’
‘Oh.’ Anneli’s disappointment was intense. She slipped off the chair. ‘I’ll go and read, then.’
Jodie looked up from the sauce that was proving so tricky. ‘You couldn’t be an angel and take Josh with you? Keep him happy just for a few minutes, till I get all this lot sorted.’
Anneli sighed. But still she let Josh follow her along the hall and into the sitting room. It was impossible to read your own book when Josh was about. He always wanted you to read to him instead. So while she was rooting through the bookshelves, looking for something that they both enjoyed, she asked him amiably, ‘So, Josh. What did you do today at playgroup?’
Josh made a face.
‘Had to sing songs.’
‘You’re lucky,’ Anneli told him with feeling. ‘I had to paint.’
In a surge of sympathy, Josh held out towards her the velvet cloth, spattered with bread crumbs and smeared with peanut butter.
‘It’s all right,’ Anneli told him. ‘It’s all over now.’
Josh finished his sandwich, then started picking up the bits he’d dropped and eating those.
‘Want to go and help Mummy?’ Anneli suggested hopefully.
‘Help you,’ Josh said firmly.
‘Go on, then,’ Anneli said. ‘Help me. Which shall we do first? Sweep up dead leaves, bake cakes to sell, or find an attic full of precious things?’
Josh looked embarrassed.
‘Not got no leaves,’ he said. ‘Can’t cook.’
‘Not got no attic, either,’ Anneli said bitterly.
Henry’s trio of bright ideas had all turned out to be right duds.
‘Got an attic,’ said Josh.
‘Don’t be silly. We haven’t got an attic.’
‘Got an attic.’
‘You don’t know what an attic is.’
‘Do.’
‘Don’t.’
He stuck his tongue out at her.
‘Do.’
Anneli was irritated.
‘All right,’ she challenged him. ‘Show me!’
Instantly, Josh made for the door.
Anneli followed. She never thought that Josh had anything at all to show her, but she went with him as he clambered up the stairs, until he reached the door that separated Jodie’s top half of the house.
Anneli pushed it open. Josh walked past his own little bedroom, barely larger than a cupboard, and through the room in which Jodie kept her books, her sewing machine, the television and the stereo. He threaded his way between the armchairs, and grasped the handle on the door to his mother’s bedroom.
‘You’ll catch it,’ Anneli warned. ‘You’re not allowed to play in there.’
‘Not playing,’ Josh insisted. ‘Showing.’
He opened