Beswitched by Kate Saunders

Author:Kate Saunders [Saunders, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-375-98927-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

The Petersons’ car took them along narrow country roads. The 1930s countryside was untidier than the countryside of the twenty-first century, but also prettier. The fields were smaller than the fields you saw beside the motorways of the future, and divided by big, shaggy hedges studded with spring flowers. There were no electricity pylons, no overhead wires, and hardly any other cars. They had to slow down several times, behind wagons drawn by horses.

Pete was in radiant high spirits, talking a mile a minute and rapping out orders. Flora was a little shocked by the way Mr. and Mrs. Peterson kept giving in to her. Uneasily, she wondered if this was how she sounded when she spoke to her own parents. Yes, she often told Mum and Dad what to do. They liked to be told, because they wanted her to be happy. But she hoped she wasn’t as bossy as Pete.

They stopped for lunch at a hotel in a small country town. Pete fussed over the menu for ages, and told her parents what food to order, so that she could have a taste of it. “If you send me to a school where the food’s putrid, the least you can do is let me eat what I like when I have a day off. Flora, you have the roast lamb. Mummy, you can have the liver and bacon.…”

After lunch, they went to see the ruins of an old castle, and Flora and Pete had a fine time climbing over the stones. When they were tired, Mrs. Peterson took a Thermos flask from her basket, and they all had a cup of tea. Mr. Peterson smoked a pipe. Flora looked at him as hard as she could, without staring rudely. Was he really like her own dad, or did she see it because she missed him so much?

Pete’s mother asked a lot of questions about her family, and Flora had to concentrate on giving the right answers from the life of the other Flora.

“We know some Foxes,” Mrs. Peterson said. “We met them at Sheringham, a few summers ago. Daphne, do you remember?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t say ‘nope,’ dear, this isn’t a cowboy film. They had that little boy you were always squabbling with.”

Pete rolled her eyes. “Why do you always want to talk about such dull things? I’m starving again. Aren’t you worried that I’m so hungry all the time?”

“You’re a growing girl,” Mr. Peterson said comfortably.

“I mean, doesn’t it speak volumes about the quality of the food at that place? And there’s never enough of it, is there, Flora? I think you should write to Old Peepy about it.”

“Never mind, we’ll get you another box of chocs for the tuck box,” her father said.

“Thanks, Daddy—it’s looking jolly empty and it’s got to last me till the end of term.”

Her mother laughed, and lovingly smoothed Pete’s untidy hair. “I’ll throw in a tin of biscuits, but that’s all you’re getting.”

Flora didn’t believe this for a moment. These two made her own doting parents look strict.

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