Read Online This Perfect World by Suzanne Bugler - Free Book Online

Partridge turned back round to me, a conspiratorial
look on her face and said, ‘It’s Heddy’s birthday today.’
    I could smell her breath again. She grinned at me,
triumphantly, waiting. ‘Oh,’ I said.
    Then Heddy came down the stairs, at last, fat pink legs
visible first, like butcher’s sausages in her ballet tights,
followed by the rest of her. Most of us wore pink leotards
now. Mine was the exact same colour as my tights, with a
thin belt around the waist, sewn on at the sides. Heddy’s
leotard was black and plain and cut low on the thighs with
thick elastic bunching against her flesh, like old-fashioned
knickers. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked
at me, all bright-eyed and expectant.
    They were both looking at me, and waiting.
    ‘Happy birthday,’ I muttered, then I stood there impatiently
as Heddy shoved her feet into her school shoes and
took her anorak down from the coat rack. I’d got my hand
on the door latch and, as soon as I possibly could, I pulled
open that door and ran back down that pathway in the rain
to the car, and my dad. I wanted to get in the front, right
up beside him, but I didn’t, because I had to be nice to
Heddy.
    I knew Heddy was following along behind me, but when
I opened the door to the back seats and clambered in, I saw
that Mrs Partridge had followed us too, come out in the rain
holding a broken yellow umbrella over her head. She bent
down to the front passenger window and tapped, and my
dad started when he saw her, as if he’d had a fright, which
would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so angry. He leaned
across the passenger seat to wind down the window, grabbing
at the handle with a clumsy hand. And then he put on
this stupid, gushy voice.
    ‘Hello, Mrs Partridge, how are you?’ he asked with way
too much enthusiasm. I cringed on his behalf.
    ‘Oh, good, good. Not so bad,’ Mrs Partridge said back,
and probably she was cringing too because there was this
awkward pause then, as if neither of them knew what to say.
And I sat there, thinking Oh, just get on with it , while Heddy
stuffed herself onto the back seat beside me.
    And then,‘It’s Heddy’s birthday,’ Mrs Partridge announced,
as Heddy bumped her big self up against me.
    Oh, woopy-dee. Bring out the trumpets and put an ad in
the paper. I wriggled across the seat to the far side and
pressed myself right up against the door to get as far away
from Heddy as I could. She smelled of wet dog.
    ‘Happy birthday, Heddy,’ my dad said, straining his neck
to look round at Heddy in the back.
    ‘Thank you,’ Heddy muttered, and blushed, and looked
down at her fat legs, flattened fatter against the seat of the
car.
    I thought Mrs Partridge would go away now that she’d
made her grand announcement, but she carried on standing
there with the rain running down off her crumpled umbrella
and into the open window. Then, to my horror, she said,
‘Would Laura like to come round later, this afternoon, for
some cake?’
    No, Laura would not, I wanted to reply, but my dad
answered for me, gushing, ‘I’m sure Laura would love to.
That’s very kind of you, Mrs Partridge.’
    I sat the whole way to ballet staring out the window away
from Heddy, and fuming. And when we were at ballet she
seemed to think this unwanted invitation – and the extremely
unwanted, unfair acceptance – somehow gave her the right
to hang around me more than ever. When I hung up my coat
with the others she was there, hanging hers on the next peg.
I took off my shoes and left them under my coat and ran
over to the bench on the far side of the hall where some of
the other girls were sitting, to lace up my ballet pumps. I
squeezed myself in between the other girls, deliberately, so
there was no room for Heddy, thinking she’d get the message.
But still she followed me across the hall, and stood there,
totally ignored by everyone, until Madame clapped her hands
for us to get