Free Andie's Moon by Linda Newbery Page B

wasn’t marching out of the shop in a temper, or trying to make a run for it – but she wasn’t denying having the bangle, either, which would surely be her response if she hadn’t got it.
    “Come on, Prune!” Andie said, impatient to be gone. “Have you got it, or haven’t you?”
    “Prune, was that?” The Jesus-man was leaning on the counter with both elbows. He had a very nice smile, Andie noticed.
    “Prudence. Prue. Anything but Prune,” Prune said, flustered. She reached into her crochet bag, and, shamefaced, drew out the carved bangle and handed it over. “I’m sorry – I must have—”
    “Zak? What’s going on?” called a female voice. There was a jangle of bead curtains behind the till, and a wild-haired woman with an Indian scarf tied as a headband came through to join the Jesus-man. Unlike him, she had a very businesslike manner, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in the situation at one glance.
    “Oh, nothing. We were just chatting,” he said. He covered the bangle with his hand, and pushed it under a folded scarf near the till.
    Andie gave him a thank you look, said goodbye and chivvied Prune out to the pavement.
    “What’s got into you?” she hissed. A girl burdened with carrier bags tutted as she veered round them into the road. “Prune? Were you really going to steal that?”
    “I don’t know! I – I – no, of course not! I must have put it in my bag by mistake.”
    “Really?” Andie peered at her closely. “Well, you were lucky that Zak bloke was so un-heavy about it. You could have been arrested! Prune, you can’t go round helping yourself to stuff!”
    “I don’t!”
    “Not much, you don’t. It’s like that Biba dress in the wardrobe. You see something and you’ve just got to have it. Honestly, you shouldn’t be allowed out!”
    “It was a mistake!” Prune flared back. “Don’t you ever make a mistake?”
    “Not mistakes that make me steal from shops, no!”
    They’d started to walk in the direction of the Town Hall, but now Prune stopped, taking hold of Andie’s sleeve. “Andie – you won’t tell Mum, will you? Or Dad?”
    “No,” said Andie, “as long as you promise not to do it again. By mistake or on purpose. I don’t want a jailbird for a sister, thanks.”
    “He was nice, though, that Zak, wasn’t he? Weird, but nice.”
    “Yeah,” Andie retorted, “and I bet he thought you were really great. Trying to nick stuff, then standing there like a beetroot. A gibbering beetroot.”
    “I didn’t gibber!”
    “Yes, you did. It’s a good job I was there, or you’d have melted into a bright red gibbering jelly.”
    Very huffy with each other, they walked home in silence.

Chapter Twelve

    Everyone’s Gone to the Moon
    By Sunday, the ban on going out with Kris had expired. Kris came up to see if Andie wanted to go to Hyde Park again – not for a rock concert this time, but to wander round the Serpentine and eat ice cream, and look at the outdoor art exhibition.
    “The what?”
    “All these artists come out on Sundays and hang their paintings on the park railings. Some of it’s terrible – well, most of it really, but there’s some good stuff as well. And there are people who do portraits while you wait, or cartoons. That’s fun to see.”
    Mum had to agree that Andie could go, but went through a list of dos and don’ts , ending with: “ Don’t be back later than six. I mean that, Andie.”
    “What’s with your mum?” Kris asked, as they waited for the bus. “Why’s she so strict?”
    “Oh, she’s just not used to…well, to London. She likes it, but she thinks I’ll get lost or kidnapped the second I leave the flat.” Andie felt an uncharacteristic desire to stand up for her mother. “They’re a bit disappointed today, Mum and Dad. They went to look at some flats yesterday, but they turned out to be much too small.” And dilapidated, Mum had said, and none too clean, and not in streets she’d want to live in, either.