Chapter 44: Bed-Headed Step Child
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QUICK NOTE: Apologies for the sudden hiatus. Neither I nor the story are dead! January didn't allow for a lot of opportunities to write. Either way, normal releases have resumed. I will update a more concrete schedule in an official announcement at the start of March. In the meantime, enjoy and sorry again!
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Bas' Caravan, Leavesden. February 2009.
"Mmgh. Lumpy…" It hadn't been long, just over a single year, since Ellie had received her own bed. Waking up from between the overstuffed cushions of Bas' sofa, she missed it already.
But, Ellie thought to herself, she shouldn't complain too much. At least, unlike Bas, she was actually sleeping inside his RV.
Bas was weird. For a movie star she watched on the tele, he sure didn't have fancy bungalows or cars. First the bus back at the foster home, and now basically a small house on wheels. She was hoping he'd race her around in a Ferrari or something.
Gingerly lifting the edge of her blanket, Ellie scooted out from beneath the covers. "It's okay Mojo Jojo, you may return to bed." Scrubbing the crusty bits from her eyes, Ellie tucked her carnival soft-toy monkey back in.
Barefooted, she padded over to the only room inside the camper van. Ellie made sure she took every step with purpose. Properly bending her knees and lifting her soles fully off the ground. The matrons always taught her and the others to mind their manners - like keeping elbows off the table, and not dragging your feet while walking. When the kids were alone in the dorms, they'd sometimes complain about them being too strict; but Ellie cherished being taught little things like that. No one had ever bothered to before. "Mrs Stephens, are you awake?" She peered in. No one was there.
Only Bas' things were in her line of sight. The bed was perfectly made, with not even a crumple or crease on the sheets. A spike of fear shot down her cooling spine. She inhaled a sharp breath. All Ellie could smell was boy. Like soap, socks, and sweet, smoky wood. "Where-!? Oh…" she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Mrs Stephens' suitcase parked in an alcove by Bas' armoire.
Made sense, she supposed - no need to panic. Mrs Stephens was the neatest person she knew. Plus, neither of them had unpacked yet. They'd only just come off their flight a few hours ago, late into the night. But still, where was everyone?
Anxiety abated, another bodily function made itself known. Grrrm. Time to grab some grub. She skipped over to the mini kitchen and opened the pantry cupboard to find it fully stocked. With cocoa powder… what? There were some chocolate bourbons and tea bags, but, "he doesn't even have any porridge."
No wonder Mrs Stephens was always so worried about him.
Before she needed to contemplate potentially starving to death, a breeze wafted the scent of buttered toast through an open window. Hmph, Bas could figure out his breakfast situation all on his own; she was going to go get hers.
Her destination was next door - the twin caravan to this one. Where that scary lady who dogged each of Bas' steps lived.
Bas was bunking on the couch there, in order to make the two of them comfortable inside his own quarters.
Speaking of, Ellie needed something to wear. She glanced at her own zipped up luggage carrier. Does she do the responsible thing and pull out her own pair of sandals, or does she steal the oversized but very, very fluffy looking fleece-lined fuzzy slippers?
Temptation won out.
A hop, skip, and a jump later Ellie clambered out of the caravan as the door banged shut behind her. And she sloshed right into a puddle. "Uh-oh!"
She froze up as the water soaked into the fabric of Bas' shoes. Then relaxed. Nothing would happen to her, not anymore.
Bas wouldn't care, she knew that without a doubt. Her feelings towards him were a little strange. Maybe conflicted was a better word for it? She'd learnt that one in lessons just this past term. A small smile crept on her face. Honestly, she'd been enjoying school a lot more these last few months. Neither she nor the other foster kids had been treated terribly kindly by the other students. But all that suddenly changed after Bas' visit last year. After summer hols had ended, word had gotten 'round that Harry Potter had visited them, and in no time at all the same plonkers who spent their breaks bullying them, started cozying up to Ellie and her ilk.
Ellie wasn't stupid. She knew most of them were fibbing. Fake smiles were obvious when you saw them enough, and imitating them became easy. Overall, school just became more pleasant.
Now that she thought about it, maybe that's why her first audition over Skype went so well?
But that's sort of what irritated her about Bas so much. Everyone paid him too much mind.
When he first arrived with their bus, arms spread wide as Mrs Stephens ran to him - she felt like Harry Potter had jumped right off the pages of her book and landed on their doorstep. He seemed less like a real person and more like one of the rides at the fair she'd won her plushie at. The other children thought so too, because the entire hoard hadn't stopped hanging off of him until he'd had to leave.
Not that Bas looked like he felt even remotely stifled. For the entire time he was there, he didn't even complain once about one kid after another gabbing and screaming into his ears. Three days straight of being a human jungle gym - and the matrons weren't any better.
Bas just smiled - genuinely smiled (Ellie, as she'd already established, could absolutely tell) - and bore it. Never was there a bad word out of his mouth, except for the occasional slip of an actual bad word courtesy of his potty mouth. Any and every time that happened, Mrs Stephens' hand was faster than his and she promptly smacked the back of his head before he could slap a hand over his own mouth.
Squelchy, wet footprints followed her path as she marched half-a-dozen metres towards the other camper. "Isn't that just the oddest thing?" It was so alien - bonkers really, seeing Mrs Stephens behaving like that. In the short time Ellie had been hiding behind her skirts, Mrs Stephens was always prim, proper, and put together. So soft, warm, gentle, and sweet. She was like if a brownie came to life.
Ellie had come to deeply appreciate that under her new roof, she'd seldom have to worry about raised voices, let alone raised hands. That just wasn't Mrs Stephens' (or the other wonderful ladies') way.
Unless, of course, when it came to him. Bas got teased. Bas got whacked. Bas was different. Bas was special.
Bas was annoying.
For Mrs Stephens, especially. When he was around, it was like the rest of the world ceased to exist. Ellie absolutely and unequivocally hated that.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Stopping in her tracks, she witnessed a sweat-soaked Bas' cross country keds pounding against the ground. Given the shocking state of his kitchen cupboards, she didn't take him as someone capable of morning jogs.
Worse still was his atrociously chipper attitude, despite the early hour. As soon as they made eye contact, his face lit up in a smile brilliant enough to rival the sun overhead. He picked up the pace and bounded over to her; Ellie had no choice but to stand stock still and wait for him to catch up - there was no chance she could outrun him, so she didn't even bother. "Good morning, mum!" First syllables out of his mouth, and he was already taunting her. The auditions for young Lily Potter weren't even completed yet, and he was already acting as if she had won it. Was it any wonder she wanted to get away from him?
"Who's your mum?" A very familiar face abruptly cropped up in her mind at that thought. Following it was a flash of heat blossoming in her chest.
In order to make her sudden displeasure known, she puffed her cheeks, crossed her arms, and glared right at him. Ellie didn't know the exact reason she was so cross - but if Bas wanted to get on her good side, he was going to have to figure that out for the both of them.
But he was either too thick, or too thick-skinned to care. Unphased and unashamed, he palmed her forehead, tilted her head back until she almost lost balance, and made her stare into his eyes nearly the same shade of green as hers. "Should all things go well, hopefully you. Or have you forgotten why you're here in the first place?"
"Because you went begging to Mrs Stephens." So what if Ellie had been the first and most eager to raise her hand when the option to be in a movie was brought to the other girls in her age range?
She flailed in his grip. Arms and legs swung this way and that, but her best efforts met air as Bas artfully dodged every swipe at his shins.
"You're almost ten-years-old now; big girls use their words, you know?" Oh, Ellie had an entire dictionary's worth that she'd love to alphabetically let loose at him, but Mrs Stephens was probably well within earshot.
So rather than risk being unheard by swearing under her breath, Ellie instead aimed below the belt. "Maybe I'd be more excited if this was the new Twilight movie." Not really. Her favourite Potter emblazoned quidditch jersey (which Ellie realised she was literally wearing right at this moment) was proof otherwise.
Bas laughed at her. The utter beast! "Hey if that's what you want, I can swing that too. The bloke who plays Edward Cullen is a mate of mine."
No thanks, one movie was enough for her career. No amount of pride in his voice was going to pressure Ellie into changing her decision. She'd do him this one favour, and that was it!
Mostly because, from all the conversations she'd eavesdropped on, she knew with certainty that using Bas as a template for success was liable to get her in trouble. Case in point, the loud screech that suddenly erupted from the second RV. "He did what!?" Ellie was adamant that Mrs Stephens yelling meant the topic of conversation could only be one thing.
Ellie and Bas looked at each other with surprised faces. The both of them teleported in tandem and pressed their ears to the door for the full dialogue.
Sight unseen to the inhabitants, Ellie gleefully listened in for some weaponised gossip. Pretending to be a spy was a lot more fun when the consequences of getting caught didn't affect her.
Bas on the other hand - or rather, ear - was in it for self-preservation.
"Oh, yes. That was not even the end of it, Don Stephania. After giving the young lady a cat bath in the middle of a crowded dance floor, Bas-" A pair of hands clamped around her ears and pulled her away from the door.
"Er, right… Probs for the best you don't hear the rest of that."
"Ooooh! Someone's getting tattled on~" Unfortunately, the comment was undercut by her tummy rumbling in hunger again.
"A-as long as the two of them are getting along…" He wasn't a very good actor, was he? "Let's leave them to their tea and tales, while you and I get a spot of brekkie." Ellie unconsciously leaned into his side as he guided her towards the catering hall with his arm laid over her shoulder. "Actually, the hair stylists usually have a coffee around this time - might be a good idea to ask them to dye your goldilocks ginger."
"But won't that get us in trouble?" More of it for him, she corrected.
"Definitely. Just me, not you. I'm meant to be the responsible one. But when the casting director sees you in the full ensemble - you'll be a shoe in for the part, mum."
Ellie really wished he'd stop calling her that. Seeing how much he made Mrs Stephens suffer, she was sure he'd make for a terrible son. She looked up at him even as he tickled her nose with her own strands. But maybe he wasn't such a bad big brother.