| E-mails
from Escomb
by Roma Oxford
My dad pushed his specs further up his nose and read the letter
out loud. Everyone round the breakfast table listened. It was from
the estate manager and it was rubbish news. We’ll be moving
. . . . miles and miles away from here to some beastly hovel out
in the middle of nowhere. AND I DON’T WANT TO GO.
As Dad folded the letter away, Mum threw the unopened packet of
Shreddoes in the air and caught it, shouting, ‘Yes-s,’
while Ben whirled his tie round his head with an earth-shattering
‘Yippee’. Everyone was jubilant – except me.
‘Oh – Dan,’ gasped Mum. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It is too,’ he said and gave Mum a long kiss on her
mouth. Yuk! I stalked off to my bedroom to think. Life was never
going to be the same again.
By the way, I’m Emily Pearson, but my mates call me Empy,
and I’m ten. My dad’s Dan, the Parks Department Man,
Mum works for Marks and Sparks and Ben’s seven and too lippy
by half. We’ve always, always lived in fabulous Fabian Street.
My school’s just round the corner. It’s a huge Victorian
one, has high windows and an enormous playground. I love it. BUT
I’LL NEVER SEE MY FRIENDS AGAIN.
This place we’re going – it’s some dump called
Escomb on Lord Lutton’s estate. Dad says he was head-hunted,
whatever that means, and he’s very fortunate to be working
for old Lutton-face. Huh – lucky for us, we get a stone cottage
for as long as we want, but I bet it’s riddled with rats and
damp as a ditch. There’ll be no-one around for a million miles.
After tea, on the day of The Letter, Dad gave me a hug.
‘It’ll be all right, you know. It’s a fantastic
place – all green and gorgeous.’
‘I hate green,’ I said, ‘and I don’t do
gorgeous.’
‘The people next door . . .’
I pricked my ears up. You didn’t have ‘next doors’
in the wilderness – did you?
‘Yes?’ I said, sniffing.
‘They’re looking after their grandaughter. She’s
about your age.’
‘So who are they – these neighbours?’
‘Isaac and Jean Poad, and young Isobel,’ explained Dad.
‘We’ll go up there at the week-end to show everyone
the place. You’ll love it.’
Saturday morning was wet. Typical – but as the van chugged
up the hill and rounded the bend at the top, the sun peeked out
and the valley below lit up.
‘Oh my,’ sighed Mum. Ben cranked the window down and
leaned right out. Mum yelled at him. I tried looking uninterested,
but couldn’t help gawping. Where’s the cottage? Perhaps
Isobel would be in the garden? A mile further on, we pulled into
a gravel drive. Side by side, sat two identical cottages, glowing
in the golden sunlight. They looked like they were out of a history
book and I almost forgot to frown when I saw them. Dad took the
key, lifted the latch and we crept inside. Dad’s head almost
touched the ceilings and the walls were all bumpy.
‘This is going to be such fun,’ grinned Mum, winking
at me.
There was a knock at the door. Mrs Poad and Isobel stood there and
invited us to tea.
‘In say, half-an-hour?’ said Mrs Poad. I stared at Isobel,
thinking ‘bet the kids at her school hate that colour hair,’
but she did one of those funny little waist-high waves and gave
me a wide-eyed smile. I felt my chin wobble. She seemed sort of
friendly.
‘What a lovely old couple,’ said Mum on the way home.
‘And did you like Izzy?’ she asked.
‘She’s okay,’ I said, ‘if you can understand
her funny accent.’ Actually, I liked her quite a lot and guess
what? She’s got her own lap top! We’ve exchanged e-mail
addresses and I might e-mail sometime before The Move. But the very
next day, I sneaked into Dad’s office and wrote:-
Hi Izzy. It’s Emily. Saturday was good. How’s Nell?
Is she your Nan’s? Wish I had a dog. Wish I had my own lap
top too!
Hours later, there was a message from Izzy.
‘Lo Emily. Nellie‘s mine while Mum and Dad are away.
We were crofters, near Clachtoll, but it was awful. There wasn’t
enough money, so they’ve gone to France to earn some. They
got me a lap top so we can chat. I love Nan and Gramps to bits,
but really miss Mum and Dad. D’you have a pet or a lap top?
Hi Izzy. No dog, no cat. No garden. Town’s too busy, but I
love dogs. I use my Dad’s work computer, but we can’t
bring it to Escomb. How can I mail my million friends?
‘Lo Emily. No problem. Share my dog, borrow my lap top. Guess
what? – our bedrooms are going to be next to each other. We
can tap messages on the wall. When are you coming again? Lots to
ask you.
Izzy and I e-mailed every single day. I let her call me Empy, like
all my mates do, because she told me loads about herself. Clachtoll
was miles and miles from anywhere, so they went shopping only once
every four weeks. It rained nearly every day. Her mum and dad were
her teachers, so going to Escomb School was dead scary. There were
so many children. Just imagine it, twenty-four kids and that’s
a big school. Twenty-four’s less than in my class. She says
Mr Silver, the teacher’s great. To Izzy, Escomb is almost
heaven.
Mum and Dad were like kids going to a first party. They kept whispering
and hugging each other. Ben was up in the air, knocking off the
days to the move on his lego tower. I kept busy collecting everyone’s
phone numbers or e-mails and I had a good sort out of my stuff.
I was going to throw lots away, but there were some special things
that I thought Izzy might like, so I put them in an ‘Izzy
Box’. Also, my new bedroom was going to be bigger, so there’d
be loads of room. Mum and Dad decided they’d sell 28 Fabian
Street and use the money to buy Mum a car, a new van for Dad, a
lap top for me and a proper Scalectrix layout for Ben.
The day before we moved, Izzy sent me this:-
Hi Empy – I know you’re sad to leave town, but there’s
a very special sound waiting for you here. Everybody laughs about
it, but I think it’s real clever and I can’t wait for
you to hear it too. Can’t wait till tomorrow. Love, Izzy.
I couldn’t guess what she meant. Special sound? – and
in all the hustle and bustle of packing and loading, saying goodbyes
and moving in, I clean forgot. The next week was half-term. Izzy
showed me round the place while Mum and Dad got settled. Ben was
a complete pain, trailing us everywhere and trying to talk Scottish.
I felt like hitting him.
‘Och, leave him be,’ said Izzy.
On the first school morning, Mum said I’d to show Ben how
to be brave. We’d never caught a school bus before. With knees
knocking, we waited at the end of the drive. Izzy joined us and
I thought she looked a bit smirky. She got on the bus first, then
Ben and then me. Suddenly from the back seats, came this huge cheer
and two lads stood up and stretched a banner out. It said, ‘Empy
& Ben, welcome to Escomb.’ Ben laughed and I felt that
old chin wobble again. Izzy dug me in the ribs and grinned and I
smiled back. In only one week, Izzy and I had got along just like
that. I felt I’d known her for ages and I guessed she’d
organised the banner. It was just the sort of thing she’d
do.
By the time we reached school, we knew eleven names and in the playground,
everyone spoke to us. Somebody put a chocolate bar into Ben’s
hand. Izzy and I linked arms as we went inside.
Mr Silver was delighted to see two extras, and Izzy’s right.
He’s s-o-o cool. He’s younger than old Snoddy at my
other school and never seems to shout. Izzy says he sometimes wears
crazy things. Today it’s a tie with smiling worms all over
it, secured with an enormous safety pin. He teaches everyone, everything.
Mrs Silver comes in some mornings too.
Mr Silver set us to work, the sun streamed in through the windows
and all was quiet. Just sheep bleating and birds tweeting. We were
all busy, heads down, when Izzy nudged me.
‘That sound – did you hear it?’ she whispered
as Mr Silver left the room.
‘What? The telephone?’ I said.
‘No – the starling. It imitates the school phone, but
Mr Silver hasn’t twigged yet.’
Mr Silver came back scratching his head, looking puzzled. Me and
Izzy giggled. I reckoned Escomb could be heaven for me too.
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