The Great Escape
John stared in mild confusion at the words and symbols spray-painted onto the walls of the bus shelter. To a four (and a half) year old it was all gibberish. His little face scrunched up as he tried to pronounce a word, but Harriet placed a palm over his mouth after the F.
"That's a bad word, John," she told him in her most mature of voices. "You must never, ever say it. Okay?" She stared into his very soul until he nodded. "Good."
She leaned back on the wooden bench again, ready to spring into action if John decided to wander off. She would have a lot of explaining to do if he came back home with a bleeding knee from falling over something. Insisting that she was mature enough – she was nine for goodness' sake – their mum had somewhat reluctantly agreed to let Harriet babysit. Harriet of course had no intention of wasting a parent-free day watching her little brother's every move.
It had been her plan all along to take them into town. She had a pile of fashion catalogues in her room that were dog-eared and torn from being studied nearly every night before she went to bed. There was a nice little clothes shop about a ten minute bus ride away. They could be there and back before Mum or Dad got home.
The March chill cut into her and she wished she'd worn a scarf. She watched John as he hugged his teddy bear closer to fight off the cold, even though he had a woollen hat, scarf and mittens on (Harriet didn't want to explain away a cold either). Hamish – who'd been named by their Scottish granny – was John's constant companion. Harriet was thankful that its fur was black because she was sure it was very dirty. John was always upset when he didn't have his Hamish.
The bus eventually rolled to a stop in front of them. John was excited by this. "Is it Daddy?" he asked Harriet as he rushed over to her.
"I don't think so, John." She knew so because Dad drove a bus with a different number plate. She was also glad, because she didn't need either parent knowing about this little escapade. John looked a little disappointed, his gaze falling to the pavement. Harriet took his little hand in her bigger one. He looked up in time to see the old woman who'd also been sitting in the bus shelter carefully step onto the bus, leaning heavily on her walking stick as she did so. Harriet had been ignoring her staring at them ever since they'd arrived, probably wondering why two children were out on their own.
John was eager to climb aboard too and Harriet had to hold onto him quite tightly to stop him rushing past the old woman. The step from the pavement to the bus was very high for John but he succeeded on the second attempt. Knowing he was contained on the bus, Harriet handed the conductor the coins and received their tickets.
The purse was heavy in her skirt pocket and bulged a little, stretching the denim. It was the contents of her piggy bank combined with some money she found by simply searching the house. There was enough for the dress she wanted and not much more. Even the tickets she held in her hand as she shepherded John into a seat were cutting it fine.
John was keen to stare out of the window and point out cars to Hamish. There were few cars on their street since there was such a good bus service anyway. While John entertained himself that way, Harriet stared down anyone who dared to even glance at them.
"Car! Look, look!" John had Hamish's face pressed up against the window so he could definitely see and was pointing enthusiastically. Harriet leaned over to look too, feigning interest. Once he realised his sister was interested too, John took to pointing out every phone box and every cat.
Harriet stepped and John jumped off the bus onto a slightly busier main street. John had never been on this particular street before and was suddenly nervous, chewing on Hamish's tartan bandana as his wide eyes absorbed the scene. He held Hamish close as Harriet maturely helped them cross the road, looking both ways several times before stepping out. With his free hand he clung on to Harriet. His woolly mitten made her cold hand feel much warmer.
She led them to a clothes shop she'd been to a few times before with Mum. It had clothes for boys, girls, men and women. It was relatively big and grand on the inside and there were lots of things to choose from. Harriet knew every garment inside out thanks to her favourite catalogue.
The door to the shop opened and the bell went dig-a-ling to announce their arrival to the person behind the counter. The woman looked up at the door but otherwise did not move, sticking her nose back into her magazine.
Staring at the array of colours on display, Harriet wondered where to begin. John also stared in wide-eyed wonder. Hamish was remarkably impassive. The areas for girls and women ran down one side of the shop, the areas for men and boys down the other. The girls' section was very colourful, Harriet noted with appreciation. She made a bee-line for a bright blue denim dress and picked it off the rail. She held it in front of herself while looking down to check the length. She looked up to see John watching her.
"What do you think?" she asked him.
"Um... very... blue," he replied, looking pleased with himself that he'd pointed the fact out. She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. Boys really were useless at this.
"I need some time to work out what I'll buy. Why don't you go and look around the shop for a while? See if there's anything you like," Harried said. She wanted to concentrate and buy the right thing while she was here and she had money. John would only get in the way.
John frowned slightly. "What 'bout Hamish?"
Harriet put the blue dress down and pulled a green floral-printed one off the rail. "He can go with you too."
He was satisfied with this and took Hamish by the paw so he dangled and tapped against his leg when he walked. The shop was like a maze and he glanced around every few moments to make sure Harriet was still there. When he couldn't see her he could hear the sound of the metal hangers banging together.
John was looking in the other direction when Hamish's bandana snagged on something. John wriggled the bear free and gave him a comforting hug before checking to see what Hamish had been caught on. It was a little hook and on the little hook was something that was a deep shade of purple. John liked the colour so he picked it up and found his way back to Harriet again.
She was back to the bright blue dress, studying the very stitches that were holding it together. Harriet looked up to see him coming over to her. She closed the gap between them in less than a second and grabbed John by the shoulders. She was scaring him just a little bit.
"I like it," John announced, before he thought to ask, "What is it?"
"John. It's... it's a bra," Harriet explained slowly, her cheeks flushing red.
His face scrunched up at this. "What's a... bra?" he said; his mouth was unfamiliar with this new word.
"That doesn't matter." Harriet leaned in closer and hissed at him, "Now put it back before someone sees you with it."
She let him go then. "But—" he started.
"Go and find something else you like, okay?"
John nodded and scurried off. Only then did she allow herself a small giggle through her embarrassment. Harriet went back to her search for a nice garment. She pulled a mustard yellow blouse off the rail and held it up while checking it in a full-length mirror.
Meanwhile John couldn't get the bra thing back on its hook, so he decided to stuff it into a shoe. It took a lot of pushing and shoving. He looked up and found he was in the men's section of the shop. Most of the suits were as black as Hamish and Hamish was very black indeed. There were other colours too of course and John decided to copy Harriet and check the stitches on every suit. This quickly became boring and he wandered on.
It was then that the jumper caught his eye. It was beige but it did look really soft and comfortable. It was quite high up. John had to jump up to get the hanger off the rail. He made sure it actually was a jumper before running back to Harriet.
She appeared to have made her choice at last. It was the same blue dress she started with. It was perfect. John silently handed her the jumper. She looked down at the beige, cable-knitted monstrosity. She looked up at John. "You like this?"
"Yes," he said, nodding. He was hugging Hamish close again. He nodded so enthusiastically his hat nearly fell off.
Harriet was surprised that a sense of fashion wasn't inherited by her little brother, but then he was a boy. She checked the price tag on the jumper. She'd done the maths to get them here. The return bus tickets were taken out of her budget already. She couldn't afford her dress and his jumper or whatever it was called.
She was going to tell him to put the jumper back. But John was chewing on Hamish's bandana again, probably out of habit more than anything else, watching her with those innocent eyes of his. And her mouth moved independently of her brain. "Then you can have it."
John gave her a toothy grin through the bandana. With some reluctance she hung the dress up on the rail again. She passed it one last longing glance before ushering John and Hamish to the checkout counter.
They made it home with time to spare. John had wanted to hug his new jumper all the way home but Harriet had explained to him that she would hold onto it until she could pass it off as a package that Granny had sent them (if anything, Harriet could cover her tracks). He looked a little upset by this but it didn't last long and he went back to pointing out where phone boxes were for Hamish.
She helped John remove his coat, hat, mittens and scarf and hung them up as if they'd never been out. Harriet set John down on the sofa in front of Blue Peter and dashed upstairs to hide the cable-knitted evidence. She still had her catalogues, she supposed, and maybe she could convince Mum to send away for that dress she liked. Just as she was shoving the bag with the jumper to the back of her wardrobe, she heard the front door open.
"Hello!" said Mum. A pause as she followed the sound of Here's one I made earlier. "Hello. Did you and Hamish have a nice time with Harriet?"
John didn't answer straight away. Harriet started to head downstairs to boast about how mature she'd been all afternoon, but froze in her tracks at John's next question.
"What's a bra, Mummy?"