Free The Changeover by Margaret Mahy Page A

might have pimples like anyone else gave her confidence. The cat on his knees began to knead and purr, looking up at her with luminous eyes.
    "Come on in," he said. "What's eating you, Chant?"
    "Tigers!" Laura thought of saying as she sidled nervously into the room. Miryam Carlisle continued to stand in the doorway watching her. Sorry, for his part, recovered from his strange astonishment and began to smile a smile both inquisitive and sinister.
    "What's brought you into my parlour?" he asked ominously. "It's late to be visiting a man in his rooms, Chant."
    "I'm wearing my school uniform," Laura said. "Does that make it better or worse?" She had never worked out why he had always chosen to call her by her surname, but she had not minded. Sorry laughed a little as if he were surprised at her answer.
    "I don't know the etiquette on that one," he admitted. "I don't think it's dealt with in any books I've read. Sit down."
    Laura did so, feeling shabby among the patchwork cushions, and Sorry watched her as if she were a model, displaying herself on his sole behalf.
    "Your school uniform's too short, for that matter," he added. "It should come down to your knees when you're sitting down. It's in the handbook."
    Laura looked at him cautiously. She did not want to misunderstand this remark.
    "I've let down the hem as far as it will go," she explained.
    "You need another," Sorry said. "There's the rest of this term and then two months the other side of Christmas before you can change into winter gear. And you'll probably grow over the holidays."
    "Sorensen, you're not at school now," said his mother.
    "I know that," Sorensen replied. "And she knows it. I was being subtle, letting her know I was looking at her legs. She's got very sexy legs but I'm not allowed to tell her about them at school."
    "There's a difference between being oblique and being obscure," said his mother, while Laura tried to hide her consternation.
    "You must forgive Sorensen," Miryam went on, turning to Laura, quite as if she were an honoured and adult guest who mustn't be offended. "He can be very inept at times."
    "I'm not being inept, Chant," Sorry said. "My mother knows that. She's just worried because I'm not doing an impression of polite conversation — weather or health — 'And how are you, Laura Chant, are you keeping well, and your dear mother, is she well too?' ... all that stuff." He spoke in a rapid, light voice that picked subjects up and abandoned them before his listeners had caught up with them, and there was a slight breathlessness haunting his words at times, the remains of his original stammer. "My mother finds 'sexy' a very aggressive word, but I think it's accurate and I'm more likely to know about such things than she is." Laura was being used as part of an argument between two little-known people. "Whatever else I may miss out on," Sorry added, smiling at his mother.
    "Sorensen!" she said in a soft voice, soft but quelling, a velvet cushion used to smother a prince in a tower.
    "Do go and do something else, Mother," he said, looking away. "Please do. It's very inhibiting to talk to a visitor with you listening in. I won't hurt her. I won't even frighten her."
    "I haven't noticed much evidence of inhibition so far," his mother said dryly. "But I shall certainly go. It's nice to see you, Laura, but don't let him alarm you."
    And they both looked at her with their matching eyes showing unmistakable appraisal, as if they were ancient priests assessing the quality of a sacrifice.
    "I won't," Laura said, but certainly feeling she was getting out of her depth, not because she had gone out too far, but because a totally unexpected tide had come rushing over her. Perhaps coming to see Sorry in his own house had been going too far after all. Mrs Carlisle closed the door and went away.
    "What do you want?" Sorry asked immediately the door closed, giving her a very close and private stare that suggested he knew a great deal about her, much more than