Read Online Charm School by Anne Fine - Free Book Online Page A

shops till I find a colour that’s
perfect
.’
    ‘Twenty shops is nothing,’ scoffed Bonny. ‘Suki in there went round forty to find the right choker.’
    ‘Really?’ The tea boy peered at Suki through the glass. ‘I think I’d just pick the one I liked best in the first shop, then go off fishing.’
    ‘So would my dad,’ said Bonny. ‘Mum says that’s why men’s clothes are always the first things you come to in big stores. Because, if you had to drag them any further, they wouldn’t go.’
    ‘Too busy,’ said the tea boy. ‘Better things to do than trail round shopping every time the fashions change.’ He picked up the microphone and pretended to make a news announcement. ‘
To no-one’s astonishment, men’s favourite trouser colours will remain the easy-to-match, stain-hiding dark range, and their hems will stay at ankle length for yet another season
.’ He grinned at Bonny. ‘And, believe me,’ he added, ‘no-one will even notice.’
    ‘Unless you forget to put them on.’
    ‘Oh, yes.’ He snatched up Araminta’s shawl. ‘Or if they’re all spangly, like this.’ Swirling it round, he held it flat against his body. ‘Toby, the Glittering Man!’
    ‘Very flash,’ agreed Bonny, thinking how odd he looked. When Araminta wore the shawl, she’d just looked special – all dressed up and fancy. But Toby immediately looked like a clown, or an actor in a pantomime, or the comedy star of some Christmas Variety Spectacular. Bonny was used to seeing women glitter. (Just look at Mrs Opalene.) But men don’t go round glittering unless they’re inviting you to share a laugh. No-one takes seriously someone who is twinkling. Bonny realised for the first time why lawyers and bankers went to work in sober suits, and police officers and traffic wardens wore dark uniforms. It would be hard to pay them nearly so much attention if they were dressed in frothy clothes, with flashing rhinestone earrings. Trousers that twinkle say only, ‘Look! Look at me!’ Plain skirts and jackets (like Mrs Sullivan’s at school) say, ‘Now listen carefully. This is important.’ Or—
    The spell was clearly working overtime, because the next thing Bonny heard Toby say was, ‘Hey! You’re not listening!’
    ‘No, sorry,’ Bonny said. ‘I was too busy watching you twinkle.’
    ‘What I was saying,’ repeated Toby, draping Araminta’s shawl over the chair, ‘is that lunch will be ready in five minutes.’
    ‘Goody. I’m starving. I’ll be first in the queue.’
    ‘Which queue?’ he asked. ‘The queue for the smallest heap of beans? Or the thinnest slice of bread? Or the tiniest dab of butter?’
    ‘Don’t they even eat at
mealtimes
?’
    ‘Eat!’ Toby said. ‘
Eat
? Oh, you’ll see one or two of them pushing the odd shred of lettuce around their plates, and nibbling at stalks of celery. You might even spot one of them looking longingly at a sliver of grilled fish; or gingerly dipping her spoon into a tiny tub of non-fat, low-calorie yoghurt. But what you and I would call
eating
? No, you won’t see any of that.’
    ‘
They
will, though,’ Bonny said drily. ‘They’ll see
me
.’

    They didn’t simply see. They sat and
stared
. (All except Araminta, who stood as far from Bonny as she could in the long canteen queue, then took a seat at the far end of the table.) None of the rest of them could take their eyes off Bonny’s double slice of pizza and her tossed salad.
    Bonny took her first mouthfuls, and looked round in hopes of seeing her mother. But, clearly, the victims of Bookkeeping (Advanced) were kept miserably hungry as well as horribly busy. And, anyway, Pearl was tapping her on her sleeve.
    ‘You do realize,’ she was saying kindly, ‘that that dressing you’ve put on your salad is mostly oil?’
    Bonny gave it some thought. ‘I can taste vinegar in it,’ she said after a moment. ‘And a little bit of garlic.’
    ‘Yes,’ chimed in Cindy-Lou. ‘But Pearl is right. It’s mostly