Jean Ure - Just Peachy

“…just a bit insecure, which isn’t really surprising, I suppose, when you come to think about it.”

The voice was Mum’s. She was speaking to someone on the phone. Who? I wondered. And who was she talking about?

“The others are doing almost frighteningly well.”

I froze, in the hall on the other side of the door. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but I couldn’t help hearing. Mum’s voice is very clear and penetrating.

“All that high-flying. Enough to make anyone insecure.” She gave a little tinkle of laughter. “Even me!”

Who? Who? Who was she talking about? I hovered guiltily, unable to tear myself away.

“I don’t think I’d say she was jealous,” said Mum. “A bit envious perhaps – which is only to be expected. More a sense of… not being able to compete? Which you can perfectly understand. It all just comes so easily to the rest of them.”

She was talking about me. I knew she was. But who was she talking to?

“Oh, yes, much better,” said Mum. “Far happier now she’s at Sacred Heart. I always felt that Summerfield wouldn’t be quite right for her. An excellent school – the others just love it – but—” Mum broke off as I pushed open the door. “Ah, Peachy!” she said. “Do you want a word with Big Gran?”

Big Gran is Dad’s mum. She is quite a large person, like Dad, but unlike Dad she is not a bully. Dad is known for being a bully. He was once called the rudest man on the radio. Big Gran is quite sweet. She has always tried really hard to make me feel good about myself. Sometimes she tries a bit too hard, and then it is embarrassing. But I know she means well.

I said, “Hi, Gran.”

Gran said, “Hello, sweetheart! I’m so glad to hear you’re getting on all right at your new school. It’s a pity about Summerfield, but don’t let it bother you. I mean, your dad being upset and all that. He’ll get over it. What’s important is that you should never be made to feel you have to do things simply because your brothers and sisters do them. You just concentrate on being your own person.”

It was what Gran was always telling me to do. I promised her that I was concentrating like mad.

“Good,” said Gran. “That’s good. Always remember that simply because something’s right for the others doesn’t necessarily mean it’s right for you. You mustn’t let yourself be put under any pressure.”

I assured her that I wouldn’t.

“Well, I certainly hope not,” said Gran. “It’s not as if you’re in competition. I know it can be difficult at times. I’ve been there! I’ll never forget the day your dad’s Auntie Esther got into the Royal Ballet School.”

Auntie Esther is Gran’s sister. She was a famous ballet dancer in her time.

“Oh, such a to-do!” said Gran. “Big, big celebration! WELL DONE, ESTHER! Huge great banner, special cake in the shape of a ballet shoe, all over the local paper, called up on stage in morning assembly… Oh, dear, I was so jealous I can’t tell you! Not that I had any ambitions in that direction. At my size?” Gran laughed. A rich, fruity laugh like Dad’s. “Forget it! But I wouldn’t have minded some of the attention, I don’t mind admitting. It was a bit of a rough time. Dear little Esther, so dainty and talented, and great lumping Elinor who couldn’t even walk into a room without tripping over her size-seven feet. But then, you see, we both grew up and I did my own thing and couldn’t have been happier. So it just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

I made a vague mumbling sound of agreement.

“That’s the spirit!” said Gran. “Now—” she settled down for a cosy chat. “Tell me a bit more about this new school. Sacred Heart. I don’t know it. What is it like?”

“It’s all right,” I said.

“You mean, really all right? Or just all right, not bad?”

I said, “Really all right. Really!”

I’d been at Sacred Heart for over a fortnight now. I hadn’t been too sure at first. I’d wanted to go to Winterbourne because Winterbourne was huge. Nearly 1,500 pupils. Enough to swallow me up and keep me safely anonymous. Sacred Heart was hardly any bigger than primary school, where I hadn’t been anonymous at all. Everybody had known who my dad was. Everybody could remember Charlie and Coop. Everybody knew the twins. And everybody, but everybody, was always expecting me to be just as high-powered and talented as they were. Until they discovered that I wasn’t, and then it was like, “Oh, that’s just Peachy. She’s not a bit like her sister.”

So just at the beginning, when I started at Sacred Heart, I was really anxious, because suppose someone discovered about Dad, or knew someone who knew Charlie or Coop? In the whole of Year 7 there were only thirty people. Once one person found out, everybody would know, and I might just as well have gone to Summerfield and not caused Dad all that grief. Cos he was still a bit cross about it, even now.

On our very first day, Mrs Bradbeer, our class teacher, said she wanted us all to introduce ourselves.

“Most of you have come up from the junior school together, but some of you are new, so I’d like everybody to say a few words about themselves, and about their family, just to break the ice. All right?”

No! I cringed, trying to hide behind the person in front. This was like my worst nightmare come true.

Mrs Bradbeer obviously saw the panic on my face. She said, “Try not to look so worried, Peaches!”

Peaches? Heads snapped round. The whole class stared. I felt like digging a hole and burying myself. Trust Mum! Peaches had been her choice. She couldn’t just pick something ordinary and unremarkable like Amy or Emma. Oh, no! She had to go for something that would make everyone turn and stare.

Mrs Bradbeer smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to say more than you feel comfortable with. Just a few words will do. Zoe, why don’t you get us started?”

Zoe was one of the ones that had come up from Juniors. Full of self-importance, she pushed back her chair and bounced to her feet. You could tell she was someone that just loved the sound of her own voice. In loud, ringing tones she announced that she was Zoe Kingman and that her big ambition was to be successful and make a lot of money. She said she had a dad that was an architect and a mum that was “in the City”.

“Like she’s really high up in one of the big banks, only I’d better not say which one cos of people getting jealous and thinking she’s probably making too much money, which Mum says is just the politics of envy. I personally think that if you work hard you deserve to make lots of money; I don’t see anything wrong in it. At any rate,” said Zoe, “that is what I am going to do.”

She sat back down with a self-satisfied flump. I noticed that the girl next to me was pulling a face. I felt a bit like pulling one myself but I wasn’t quite brave enough. Several people were nodding, and one girl even started to clap.

Mrs Bradbeer said, “Thank you, Zoe. That’s got the ball rolling. Lola? You next?”

One by one, everybody got up and told us about themselves. They all seemed to have mums and dads that were doctors, or solicitors, or bank managers. I waited for someone to say her dad was a butcher, or her mum was a cleaning lady, but it didn’t happen. I sat glumly, hunched at my desk, wishing I was at Winterbourne instead of having to sit here listening as people went gabbing on about themselves and their hugely important parents. I didn’t think anyone at Winterbourne would really care what other people’s mums and dads did. I certainly wasn’t going to tell them anything about mine!

Mrs Bradbeer was going round the class at random. She seemed to be leaving me till last. Maybe, with any luck, the bell would ring and I wouldn’t have to do it.