Read Online Lottie Project by Jacqueline Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jacqueline Wilson
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the better, but I wanted to find out more about this Esther.
‘What happens to her? Does she keep her baby? Does she get a job? She doesn’t get married at the end, does she?’
‘I haven’t got that far yet. OK, you can borrow it after me. Or some of my other books if you want. I’ve got a whole lot of Victorian ones sorted out because of my project.’
‘Oh, Jamie, you would!’ I said. Then I suddenly realized this was my golden opportunity. ‘So, I might come round to your famous Victorian house sometime and see your books. What number Oxford Terrace, eh?’
‘Number sixty-two,’ said Jamie.
I felt my stomach squeeze. Number 62. Jo’s Rosen family lived at Number 58, next door but one to Jamie. What if he saw her going into their house? What if Jamie’s mum nipped along the road to have a cup of coffee with Mrs Rosen when Jo was dashing around with a duster? What if Jamie’s mum thought Jo looked dead handy with a hoover and offered her a job? I was proud that she was working so hard but I couldn’t
stand
the idea of her cleaning all Jamie’s junk.
‘Has your mum got her own cleaning lady?’ I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Jamie blinked at me, baffled. ‘What? Why? Are you scared you’ll get all dusty if you come round to my house?’ he said.
‘Does your mum do her own dusting?’ I persisted.
‘No. Mum’s hopeless at any sort of housework. We did have a cleaning lady once but then she got ill and—’
‘You’re not looking for another one, are you?’ I asked, horrified.
‘My dad does the housework now. The hoovering and that. Mum might do the bathroom, and I’m supposed to do some stuff, me and my brother, only we skive off mostly.
Why?
’
I shrugged elaborately. ‘I – I’ve got interested in the whole idea of housework and stuff because of my servant project,’ I said.
Angela and Lisa put their heads round the classroom door.
‘Come
on
, Charlie. Playtime’s nearly over. What are you doing?’ said Angela.
‘Of course, we don’t want to interrupt anything if you and Jamie are
busy
,’ said Lisa, giggling.
‘I’m
coming
,’ I said, charging over to them.
But then that idiotic Jamie put his great big foot in it. ‘So, you’re coming round to my house after school tonight, right?’ he said, in front of Lisa and Angela. Their mouths dropped open. Mine did too.
‘Wrong!’ I said, and rushed off.
Lisa and Angela rushed too.
‘We were just kidding you before. But you really have got a thing going with Jamie, haven’t you?’ said Angela.
‘You’re going round to his
house
!’ said Lisa. ‘Oh, I do wish Dave would ask me round to
his
house.’
‘I’m not
going
round to Jamie Edwards’s house,’ I insisted. ‘He was just going on about these boring boring boring Victorian books and he seemed to think I was mad enough to want to look at them, that’s all.’ My heart was thumping a bit as I said it. I knew I was kind of twisting the truth. But I had to stop Lisa and Angela getting the wrong idea once and for all.
So all that day I sent them notes under the quivering Beckworth nose as often as I dared, with silly caricatures of Jamie and rude little rhymes about him. Jamie saw his name and must have thought I was writing a note to him. He peered over my arm and read it. I’d just written a
very
rude bit about him. (Sorry: far too rude to be repeated where adults like Miss Beckworth might whip this book out of your hands at any minute!) Jamie read the very rude bit. He blinked. He didn’t look baffled this time. He looked upset.
Still, it was his own fault, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t have been nosy enough to read my private note. I passed it to Angela and she cracked up with silent laughter and then she passed it on to Lisa and she read it and snorted out loud and had to protest to Miss Beckworth that she had a horrible cold and couldn’t help it. Lisa and Angela and I all fell about helplessly when we came out of school.
I certainly
‘What happens to her? Does she keep her baby? Does she get a job? She doesn’t get married at the end, does she?’
‘I haven’t got that far yet. OK, you can borrow it after me. Or some of my other books if you want. I’ve got a whole lot of Victorian ones sorted out because of my project.’
‘Oh, Jamie, you would!’ I said. Then I suddenly realized this was my golden opportunity. ‘So, I might come round to your famous Victorian house sometime and see your books. What number Oxford Terrace, eh?’
‘Number sixty-two,’ said Jamie.
I felt my stomach squeeze. Number 62. Jo’s Rosen family lived at Number 58, next door but one to Jamie. What if he saw her going into their house? What if Jamie’s mum nipped along the road to have a cup of coffee with Mrs Rosen when Jo was dashing around with a duster? What if Jamie’s mum thought Jo looked dead handy with a hoover and offered her a job? I was proud that she was working so hard but I couldn’t
stand
the idea of her cleaning all Jamie’s junk.
‘Has your mum got her own cleaning lady?’ I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Jamie blinked at me, baffled. ‘What? Why? Are you scared you’ll get all dusty if you come round to my house?’ he said.
‘Does your mum do her own dusting?’ I persisted.
‘No. Mum’s hopeless at any sort of housework. We did have a cleaning lady once but then she got ill and—’
‘You’re not looking for another one, are you?’ I asked, horrified.
‘My dad does the housework now. The hoovering and that. Mum might do the bathroom, and I’m supposed to do some stuff, me and my brother, only we skive off mostly.
Why?
’
I shrugged elaborately. ‘I – I’ve got interested in the whole idea of housework and stuff because of my servant project,’ I said.
Angela and Lisa put their heads round the classroom door.
‘Come
on
, Charlie. Playtime’s nearly over. What are you doing?’ said Angela.
‘Of course, we don’t want to interrupt anything if you and Jamie are
busy
,’ said Lisa, giggling.
‘I’m
coming
,’ I said, charging over to them.
But then that idiotic Jamie put his great big foot in it. ‘So, you’re coming round to my house after school tonight, right?’ he said, in front of Lisa and Angela. Their mouths dropped open. Mine did too.
‘Wrong!’ I said, and rushed off.
Lisa and Angela rushed too.
‘We were just kidding you before. But you really have got a thing going with Jamie, haven’t you?’ said Angela.
‘You’re going round to his
house
!’ said Lisa. ‘Oh, I do wish Dave would ask me round to
his
house.’
‘I’m not
going
round to Jamie Edwards’s house,’ I insisted. ‘He was just going on about these boring boring boring Victorian books and he seemed to think I was mad enough to want to look at them, that’s all.’ My heart was thumping a bit as I said it. I knew I was kind of twisting the truth. But I had to stop Lisa and Angela getting the wrong idea once and for all.
So all that day I sent them notes under the quivering Beckworth nose as often as I dared, with silly caricatures of Jamie and rude little rhymes about him. Jamie saw his name and must have thought I was writing a note to him. He peered over my arm and read it. I’d just written a
very
rude bit about him. (Sorry: far too rude to be repeated where adults like Miss Beckworth might whip this book out of your hands at any minute!) Jamie read the very rude bit. He blinked. He didn’t look baffled this time. He looked upset.
Still, it was his own fault, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t have been nosy enough to read my private note. I passed it to Angela and she cracked up with silent laughter and then she passed it on to Lisa and she read it and snorted out loud and had to protest to Miss Beckworth that she had a horrible cold and couldn’t help it. Lisa and Angela and I all fell about helplessly when we came out of school.
I certainly
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