PETUNIA EVANS
She doesn't hate her little sister. Her parents have often told her that she mustn't hate people. It's okay to hate things people do or the way they wear their hair or a category of people: like fascists, but you can't hate individual people, because it's wrong. Since Petunia is a good girl and generally does what her parents tell her, she doesn't hate her little sister, even if she sometimes secretly wants to.
She always got on better with Iris, her elder sister. Iris was always so calm and placid. So ready to listen and so easy to understand. Wild, tomboy Lily is something else entirely. She even looks different. The older sisters are so alike: blonde, tall, blue-eyed, and compliant. Lily's green- eyed, redheaded wildness seems utterly alien. Lily often says that she's a changeling or a fairy princess and when she does you can almost believe her. The grown ups say she resembles one of their father's sisters, but Lily waves this away as unimportant. She's had dreams of a baby in a basket, placed on a doorstep in the dead of night and even her sceptical older sister knows that Lily's dreams are often true.
Iris never had a nickname. She'd never seemed to need one. Petunia was Piano-Tuner, a relic of the days when Lily had been unable to pronounce 'Petunia' and had lisped out the nickname which the grown ups had proclaimed 'adorable' and universally adopted.
Petunia doesn't hate her sister for the nickname, but she sometimes secretly wants to.
Lily chose her own nickname: Tiger Lily, after the Indian princess from Peter Pan. This too, was loudly declaimed as 'adorable' by the grown ups, but as the baby of the family, most of Lily's activities got that verdict. Petunia was more often the recipient of 'nice' or 'very good', which, while well meant, weren't what she wanted to hear.
Sometimes the grown ups thought she was jealous of Lily, but she wasn't... not exactly. It would be nice to be called 'adorable' and to win praise, but not Lily's way. Lily cheated. When they were told to wash up, Petunia would agonise over the basin until each dish and pan was immaculate for her 'very good'. Lily never seemed to do anything. She'd play with the soap bubbles and pretend the forks were ships, but when her parents came to check, the dishes would somehow all be cleaned, dried and put away. Then the grown ups would drop a kiss on her suds covered face and call her 'adorable'.
It wasn't just chores. Things just seemed to happen for Lily in a way they never did for Petunia. She would mysteriously outgrow her dresses the moment she got tired of them. The book she was looking for would always be to hand, although she never organised her bookshelves like Petunia did. Then there was the terrible time they'd fought, not just argued, but really fought over the result of some silly game. It had seemed like the most important thing in the world at the time and they'd both been biting and pulling hair. Petunia had just raked Lily's arm with her nails when a shelf had flown from the wall and hit her in the back of her head. She'd bit her lip so hard she'd tasted blood and even Lily had seemed scared. Lily was often frightened afterwards by the things she did when she cheated. Petunia had ignored Lily for two days after that. She'd spent most of the time talking to Iris. Iris was a good listener.
Then the owl came. It had swooped in through the French windows during lunch and deposited the letter right on top of Lily's food. Somehow Petunia had known what the letter would say, even before Lily read it out. Lily was going to be rewarded for cheating. Lily was going away and Petunia would be left behind again. She hadn't congratulated Lily when her parents did, so they'd told her that jealousy was an ugly emotion and ordered her to her room until she could be civil. She'd ignored them all and run out of the house, tears stinging her eyes. Not running away from home in a rage, dramatics like that were Lily's forte, Petunia just wanted to talk to Iris.
She can remember when Lily was a baby and the three of them would play together in the garden. They'd make daisy chain crowns and necklaces and take turns pretending that they were Lily's mother. She remembers being happy then, before Iris left. They were the flower sisters: Iris, Petunia and Lily, and they would never be lonely because they would always have each other.
Petunia is lonely now though. Her little sister grew up wrong and her big sister is younger than she is now. Petunia is nearly fifteen, but Iris will be eight years old forever. There aren't any flowers any more. Just an Indian princess, a cold stone with two dates on it and a girl called Piano- Tuner, crying to herself in a cemetery.
She hadn't wanted a letter. Her parents had been wrong about that. Deep down she still knows that magic is cheating. But she wants a sister very badly. Somebody to play with and tell secrets to and laugh with and cry with, even if it's just spoilt, stupid, cheating little Lily. But the owl will take Lily away, just like the angels had taken Iris.
"It shouldn't have been you," she whispers to the silent gravestone. "It should have been her."
It's wrong to hate people, but hating groups of people is sometimes allowed. So Petunia sits on the grass beside her big sister's grave and begins to hate.
She doesn't hate her little sister. Her parents have often told her that she mustn't hate people. It's okay to hate things people do or the way they wear their hair or a category of people: like fascists, but you can't hate individual people, because it's wrong. Since Petunia is a good girl and generally does what her parents tell her, she doesn't hate her little sister, even if she sometimes secretly wants to.
She always got on better with Iris, her elder sister. Iris was always so calm and placid. So ready to listen and so easy to understand. Wild, tomboy Lily is something else entirely. She even looks different. The older sisters are so alike: blonde, tall, blue-eyed, and compliant. Lily's green- eyed, redheaded wildness seems utterly alien. Lily often says that she's a changeling or a fairy princess and when she does you can almost believe her. The grown ups say she resembles one of their father's sisters, but Lily waves this away as unimportant. She's had dreams of a baby in a basket, placed on a doorstep in the dead of night and even her sceptical older sister knows that Lily's dreams are often true.
Iris never had a nickname. She'd never seemed to need one. Petunia was Piano-Tuner, a relic of the days when Lily had been unable to pronounce 'Petunia' and had lisped out the nickname which the grown ups had proclaimed 'adorable' and universally adopted.
Petunia doesn't hate her sister for the nickname, but she sometimes secretly wants to.
Lily chose her own nickname: Tiger Lily, after the Indian princess from Peter Pan. This too, was loudly declaimed as 'adorable' by the grown ups, but as the baby of the family, most of Lily's activities got that verdict. Petunia was more often the recipient of 'nice' or 'very good', which, while well meant, weren't what she wanted to hear.
Sometimes the grown ups thought she was jealous of Lily, but she wasn't... not exactly. It would be nice to be called 'adorable' and to win praise, but not Lily's way. Lily cheated. When they were told to wash up, Petunia would agonise over the basin until each dish and pan was immaculate for her 'very good'. Lily never seemed to do anything. She'd play with the soap bubbles and pretend the forks were ships, but when her parents came to check, the dishes would somehow all be cleaned, dried and put away. Then the grown ups would drop a kiss on her suds covered face and call her 'adorable'.
It wasn't just chores. Things just seemed to happen for Lily in a way they never did for Petunia. She would mysteriously outgrow her dresses the moment she got tired of them. The book she was looking for would always be to hand, although she never organised her bookshelves like Petunia did. Then there was the terrible time they'd fought, not just argued, but really fought over the result of some silly game. It had seemed like the most important thing in the world at the time and they'd both been biting and pulling hair. Petunia had just raked Lily's arm with her nails when a shelf had flown from the wall and hit her in the back of her head. She'd bit her lip so hard she'd tasted blood and even Lily had seemed scared. Lily was often frightened afterwards by the things she did when she cheated. Petunia had ignored Lily for two days after that. She'd spent most of the time talking to Iris. Iris was a good listener.
Then the owl came. It had swooped in through the French windows during lunch and deposited the letter right on top of Lily's food. Somehow Petunia had known what the letter would say, even before Lily read it out. Lily was going to be rewarded for cheating. Lily was going away and Petunia would be left behind again. She hadn't congratulated Lily when her parents did, so they'd told her that jealousy was an ugly emotion and ordered her to her room until she could be civil. She'd ignored them all and run out of the house, tears stinging her eyes. Not running away from home in a rage, dramatics like that were Lily's forte, Petunia just wanted to talk to Iris.
She can remember when Lily was a baby and the three of them would play together in the garden. They'd make daisy chain crowns and necklaces and take turns pretending that they were Lily's mother. She remembers being happy then, before Iris left. They were the flower sisters: Iris, Petunia and Lily, and they would never be lonely because they would always have each other.
Petunia is lonely now though. Her little sister grew up wrong and her big sister is younger than she is now. Petunia is nearly fifteen, but Iris will be eight years old forever. There aren't any flowers any more. Just an Indian princess, a cold stone with two dates on it and a girl called Piano- Tuner, crying to herself in a cemetery.
She hadn't wanted a letter. Her parents had been wrong about that. Deep down she still knows that magic is cheating. But she wants a sister very badly. Somebody to play with and tell secrets to and laugh with and cry with, even if it's just spoilt, stupid, cheating little Lily. But the owl will take Lily away, just like the angels had taken Iris.
"It shouldn't have been you," she whispers to the silent gravestone. "It should have been her."
It's wrong to hate people, but hating groups of people is sometimes allowed. So Petunia sits on the grass beside her big sister's grave and begins to hate.