Emerald Green

So outside the dining room door I picked Caroline up in the air again and whirled her around in a circle. I was the happiest person in the world because I was alive, and Gideon had said “I love you.” Of course the last bit could have been a near-death hallucination. I mustn’t rule that possibility out entirely.

My sister squealed happily while Xemerius mimed holding a remote control and trying in vain to work it.

When I put her down again, Caroline asked, “Is what Charlotte said true? You’re going to Cynthia’s party as a green garbage sack?”

That brought me down to earth from my euphoria trip for a moment.

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Xemerius. “I can just see it: a happy green garbage sack who wants to hug and kiss everyone because life is so, so, so wonderful.”

“Er—no, not if I can help it.” Good heavens, I hoped I could convince Lesley that it would be better to keep her modern art Martians for another party later. If the rumor was already going the rounds, she must be really keen on the idea, and when Lesley was really keen on something, it was very difficult to get her to change her mind. I knew that from past experience.

My whole family was sitting around the dining table, and I had to exert great self-control to keep myself from hugging them all with the same enthusiasm—I could even have hugged Aunt Glenda and Charlotte. (Which just shows what a peculiar state of mind I was in.) But Xemerius gave me a warning glance, so I contented myself with a beaming smile and only ruffled Nick’s hair in passing. However, when I was sitting in front of my plate—my mother had already put the starter on it—I immediately forgot all about self-control again.

“Asparagus quiche!” I cried. “Oh, isn’t life just wonderful? There’s so, so, so much to be happy about, isn’t there?”

“If you say wonderful once again, I’m going to throw up over your silly asparagus quiche,” growled Xemerius.

I smiled at him, put a piece of quiche in my mouth, beamed happily around the table, and asked, “How was your day, all of you?”

Aunt Maddy beamed back. “Well, yours seems to have been pretty good, anyway.”

Charlotte’s fork scraped over her plate with a harsh, grating noise.

Yes, in the end, my day really had been pretty good. Even though Gideon, Falk, and Mr. Whitman hadn’t shown up again before I left, so I’d had no chance of checking up on whether “I love you, Gwenny. Please don’t leave me” was all my imagination or whether Gideon had really said it. The other Guardians had done their best to improve what Falk de Villiers had called my “bedraggled” appearance. Mr. Marley had even wanted to brush my hair with his own hands, but I said I’d rather do it myself. Now I was wearing my school uniform, and my hair was neatly combed and hanging down my back again.

Mum patted my hand. “I’m glad you’re better again, darling.”

Aunt Glenda muttered something featuring the words “constitution of an ox.” Then she asked, with an artificial smile, “So what’s all this I hear about a green garbage sack? I can’t believe that you and your friend Lassie will go to the party the Dales are giving for their daughter like that! Tobias Dale would take it as a political insult, I’m sure. He’s a really big noise among the Tories.”

“Uh?” I went.

“What did you say?” Xemerius corrected me.

“Glenda, I am surprised at you!” Lady Arista clicked her tongue. “None of my granddaughters would ever dream of such a thing. Going to a party in a garbage sack! What nonsense!”

“Well, it’s better than nothing for someone who doesn’t have a green costume to wear,” said Charlotte nastily. “At least, for Gwen it will be.”

“Oh, dear.” Aunt Maddy looked sympathetic. “Let’s think. I have a fluffy green toweling bathrobe I could lend you.”

Charlotte, Nick, Caroline, and Xemerius giggled, and I grinned at Aunt Maddy. “That’s really nice of you, but I don’t think Lesley would like it. Little green men from Mars don’t wear bathrobes.”

“There you are! They mean it seriously,” snapped Aunt Glenda. “My word, that girl Lassie is a bad influence on Gwyneth.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Not that you’d expect anything else from the child of such lower-class parents. It’s bad enough having her sort allowed to go to St. Lennox High School at all. I for one certainly would not allow my daughter to mingle with—”

“That will do, Glenda!” Mum’s eyes flashed angrily at her sister. “Lesley is a clever, well-brought-up girl, and her parents are not lower class! Her father is … is…”

“A civil engineer,” I prompted her.

“A civil engineer, and her mother works as…”

“As a dietician,” I said.

“And the dog studied at Goldsmiths’ College,” said Xemerius. “Very respectable family.”

“Our costumes don’t make any political statement,” I assured Aunt Glenda and Lady Arista, who were looking at me with raised eyebrows. “It’s just supposed to be modern art.” On the other hand, it would be typical Lesley if she also gave the whole thing a political meaning, just to put the crowning touch on it. As if it weren’t bad enough that we were going to look terrible. “And it’s Cynthia who’s giving the party, not her parents—or the theme might not have been so green after all.”

“That’s not funny,” said Aunt Glenda. “And I call it very impolite not to take any trouble with your costumes, when the other guests and the hosts of the party are sparing no expense. Charlotte’s costume, for instance, cost—”

“A fortune, and suits her perfectly. You’ve said so thirty-four times already today,” Mum interrupted.

“You’re just envious. You always were. But at least I’m concerned for my daughter’s welfare, unlike you,” snapped Aunt Glenda. “The fact that you take so little interest in the company Gwyneth keeps and won’t even get her a good costume, speaks for—”

“The company Gwyneth keeps?” Mum rolled her eyes. “How unrealistic can you get, Glenda? This is a school friend’s birthday party, that’s all! It’s bad enough for the poor kids anyway, having to dress up.”

Lady Arista put her knife and fork down with a clatter. “My goodness, you two are over forty and still acting like teenagers! Of course Gwyneth is not going to any party in a garbage sack. And now we will change the subject, if you please.”

“Yes, let’s talk about despotic old dragons,” suggested Xemerius. “And women of over forty who still live with their mothers.”

“You can’t tell Gwyneth what to—” Mum began, but I kicked her shin under the table and grinned at her.

She sighed, but then she grinned back.

“I’m afraid I can’t sit by and watch Gwyneth tarnishing the reputation of our—” Aunt Glenda began, but Lady Arista didn’t let her finish what she was saying.

“Glenda, if you don’t keep your mouth shut, you can go to bed without any supper,” she snapped, and that made us all laugh, except Lady Arista herself and Aunt Glenda—even Charlotte laughed.

At that moment, the front doorbell rang.

No one reacted for a few seconds. We just went on eating until we remembered that it was Mr. Bernard’s day off. Lady Arista sighed. “Would you be good enough to answer it again, Caroline? If it’s Mr. Turner about this year’s floral decorations for the lampposts in the street, tell him I’m not at home.” She waited until Caroline had disappeared and then shook her head. “That man is a plague! I will say only this: orange begonias! I very much hope there is a special hell for people who like orange begonias!”

“So do I,” agreed Aunt Maddy loyally.

A minute later, Caroline was back. “It’s Gollum!” she said. “And he wants to see Gwyneth.”

“Gollum?” repeated Mum, Nick, and I in chorus. It so happened that Lord of the Rings was our favorite film of all time. Caroline was the only one who hadn’t been allowed to see it yet, because she was too young.

Nick laughed. “Wow, that’s great, my preciousssss! I must take a look at Gollum.”

“Me too,” said Xemerius, but he went on dangling lazily from the chandelier, scratching his tummy.

“You must mean Gordon,” said Charlotte, standing up. “And he wants to see me. He’s too early, that’s all. I said eight thirty.”

“Oh, a boyfriend, little bunny?” inquired Aunt Maddy. “How nice! That will give you something new to think about.”

Charlotte looked annoyed. “No, Aunt Maddy. Gordon is just a boy in my class, and I’m helping him with an essay.”

“But he said Gwyneth,” insisted Caroline. However, Charlotte had already pushed her aside and hurried out of the room. Caroline went after her.

“He can eat with us,” Aunt Glenda called after them. “Charlotte is always ready to help others,” she added, turning to us. “By the way, Gordon Gelderman is the son of Kyle Arthur Gelderman.”

“Hear, hear,” said Xemerius.

“Whoever he may be,” said Mum.

“Kyle Arthur Gelderman,” repeated Aunt Glenda, stressing every syllable this time. “The department store tycoon! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Typical—you have no idea about the people your daughter mixes with. Your commitment as a mother leaves much to be desired. Well, the boy isn’t interested in Gwyneth, anyway.”

Mum groaned. “Glen, you really ought to take some more of those tablets for the change of life.”

Lady Arista was frowning so sternly that her eyebrows almost met in the middle, and she was already taking a deep breath, probably to send Mum and Aunt Glenda to bed without any dessert, when Caroline came back, saying triumphantly, “And Gollum did want to see Gwyneth!”

I’d just put a large piece of quiche in my mouth. I almost spat it out again when I saw Gideon come into the room, followed by Charlotte, whose face had suddenly turned to stone.

“Good evening,” said Gideon politely. He was wearing jeans and a washed-out green shirt. He’d obviously showered since we got back, because his hair was still damp and curling wildly around his face. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to disturb you in the middle of your evening meal. I just wanted to see Gwyneth.”

For a moment, there was silence. That is, if you don’t count Xemerius, who was killing himself with laughter as he swung from the chandelier. I couldn’t say a word, because I was busy getting that piece of quiche down. Nick giggled, my mum looked from Gideon to me and back again several times, Aunt Glenda got red marks on her throat, and the way Lady Arista looked at Gideon you might have thought he was an orange begonia.

Only Aunt Maddy remembered her manners. “You’re not disturbing us at all,” she said in friendly tones. “Here, sit down beside me. Charlotte, lay another place, would you?”