Saffy's Angel

Don't call me darling. I'm a driving instructor!

I can only drive slowly." "That's all right." "And I can only do left turns." Rose ran downstairs, grabbed a road atlas, and ran triumphantly back up again. "Wales is left! Look! It's left all the way!

He likes driving very fast on the wrong side of the road," said Sarah. "Which I can completely understand.

She had to go," said Rose. "It was because of her angel," said Indigo. "And because of Granddad," added Caddy. "And because of her nose stud." "And because her name isn't on the color chart." "She's lonely," said Rose. "That's why.

The house had a name. The Banana House. It was carved onto a piece of sandstone above the front door. It made no sense to anyone.

He had a charm about him sometimes, a warmth that was irresistible, like sunshine. He planted Saffy triumphantly on the pavement, opened the taxi door, slung in his bag, gave a huge film-star wave, called, "All right, Peter? Good weekend?" to the taxi driver, who knew him well and considered him a lovely man, and was free. "Back to the hard life," he said to Peter, and stretched out his legs. Back to the real life, he meant. The real world where there were no children lurking under tables, no wives wiping their noses on the ironing, no guinea pigs on the lawn, nor hamsters in the bedrooms, and no paper bags full of leaking tomato sandwiches.

She'll soon forget." "Caddy," said Saffron impatiently, "she is headmistress of the private school! She's probably never forgotten anything in her whole life!

Saffy could tell by the feel of the darkness that Caddy was awake. She said, "Caddy, how far back can you remember?" "Oh," said Caddy, "ages. I can remember when I could only lie flat. On my back. I can remember how pleased I was when I learned to roll over.

For Saffron," it said in shaky old writing on the damaged base, and on the other side, "Saffy's angel." Saffron, picking up the broken fragments one by one, said it didn't matter. She hugged Rose and Indigo and Caddy and Sarah, and said again and again that it didn't matter, it didn't matter at all.

Oh, Micheal darling!" "Don't call me darling, I'm a driving instructor!

Even Dad likes it," said Caddy, and her father agreed that he did. In a way. Being a broad-minded, tolerant, artistic sort of person. Or so people told him... "Oh, yes?" said Saffron, rolling her eyes. "Yes," said Bill, sounding a little bit peeved. "So you thank your lucky stars, my girl, because in some families you would have come home to very big trouble! A nose stud! At your age! If you come down with blood poisoning, don't blame me!

Oh, Caddy," said Saffron miserably. "I know. It's awful. But I'm going. We all should." "It will be so sad." "You have to be sad sometimes," said Caddy. "Whatever Dad says. He may be right. Granddad probably had totally lost his marbles, but I am still sad and I'm still going to the funeral. I shall be as unhappy as I like and I shall where black.

Rose's work of art took her all day, including two playtimes, story time, and most of lunch. At the end of school it was stolen from her by the wicked teacher who had pretended to be so interested. "Beautiful- what-is-it?" she asked as she pinned it high on the wall, where Rose could not reach. "They take your pictures," said Indigo,... when he finally made out what all the roaring and stamping was about. "They do take them.... Why do you want that picture so much?" he asked Rose. "It was my best ever," said Rose furiously. "I hate school. I hate everyone in it. I will kill them all when I'm big enough." "You can't just go round killing people," Indigo told her...

Suddenly Saffron had a picture in her mind of Sarah waiting at the bottom of the wall, and she was angry with herself. Something changed in Saffron at that moment. She knew all about feeling left out.... That was why she wanted her angel so badly; proof that she mattered as much as anyone else. "I couldn't really climb the wall," she said. "And if I could, what if I got caught? What would I say?" "You'd think of something." "No. It was a stupid idea. Let's try your way, early in the morning." "Before breakfast?" "Yes. All right Mission Control?" "All right," said Sarah. "All right, Superhero.

They arrived home again to a most peculiar sight. The small garden at the front of the Banana House had been transformed. A tidal wave of cushions, beanbags, quilts, hearth rugs, and sleeping bags appeared to have swept up the lawn and broken at the wall. From Indigo's window a multicolored rope of knotted bedsheets came snaking out and ended among the cushions. As Micheal and Caddy watched, a mattress emerged and fell to the ground, followed by a rain of pillows. "Indigo!" shouted Caddy, jumping out of the car. Indigo's and Rose's heads appeared in the window above. "It's all right, Caddy!" Indigo called cheerfully. "We've been doing it all the time you've been gone." "We keep finding more stuff to land on!" added Rose. "Look!

Very helpful, I must say. Look at them in the eye and shout, and they understand every word..." (Mr. Warbeck in Sienna, talking about local Italians.)

Brain Juice was a recipe invented by Eve years before, when she had had to stay awake all day to look after Caddy and Indigo and Saffron, and all night to take care of the fragile and impermanent baby Rose. It was Coca-Cola with a great deal of instant coffee stirred into it. It was black and frothy and gritty, and it tasted like a primitive, medieval poison, but it banished sleep like magic.

Michael allowed himself to look at Caddy for the first time since she had climbed into the car. It was a moment that he always put off for as long as possible because his concentration was never quite the same afterwards.

Sarah's father's shoulders began to shake. Tears poured down his cheeks. He took first one hand, and then the other, off the steering wheel to mop his eyes. He drove, weeping and groaning, at 140 kilometres an hour. Sarah's mother would not look at him. Sarah and Saffron stared, dumbstruck. Then it gradually dawned on them that he was laughing.