The Boy with the New Trousers

Rachel, meanwhile, was doing her homework in her bedroom. Her sister came in with the phone.

‘It’s for you,’ she said.

‘Who is it?’ Rachel asked.

‘This boy - I didn’t ask his name.’

Rachel smiled as she took the phone. She knew it must be Peter. ‘Good evening, Miss Pearson,’ he greeted her.

‘Good evening – who’s that?’ Rachel said, pretending not to know. There was a pause – Peter was wondering what he should say.

‘It’s Mr Bumby,’ he replied.

‘Hello, Mr Bumby,’ said Rachel. He obviously liked being called that.

‘I was just ringing to say thank you for your card. It was very thoughtful of you.’

‘It’s a pleasure.’ 

‘I’m sorry I never told you about it – my birthday, I mean. I never thought about it.’

‘That’s all right. I’ll remember next year, now I know the date.’

‘When’s your birthday, Miss Pearson?’

‘The tenth of August.’

‘In the summer holidays.’

‘Yes.’

‘Not long now.’

‘No.’

‘Well, thank you again for the card.’

‘Thank you for ringing, Mr Bumby. I should get back to my homework.’

‘I won’t keep you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Goodbye.’

When Peter had said goodbye and hung up, Rachel went out of her room to put the phone back. Her sister Elizabeth was standing in the hallway grinning. 

‘Mr Bumby?’ she said. 

‘Were you listening?’ Rachel asked, blushing.

‘Who is he?’

‘A friend, from school.’

‘An older friend?’

‘He’s in my class.’

‘And you call him Mr Bumby?’

Rachel was uneasy. ‘Peter is his first name. I usually call him that, but – just today, well. . .’ She couldn’t find the words to express herself. It was what she wanted Peter to ask her; she didn’t want to talk about it with Elizabeth. ‘He looked so smart; he had a new pair of trousers on, grey trousers. They made him look so, well – so grown-up, so manly.’

‘Mr Peter Bumby, the handsome young man in the smart grey trousers. Not my type.’

‘So?’

‘Is he your boyfriend?’

‘Well no, at least -’

‘You want him to be? You fancy him?’

‘I – oh, I don’t know, just leave me alone.’

Elizabeth laughed as Rachel walked away with the phone. ‘Rachel’s in love,’ she said.

Rachel tried to continue with her homework, but she wasn’t focused on it. She had always liked Peter, but she had seen him in a new light today. She had called him Mr Bumby to express her admiration for his smart appearance, and she had wanted it to be a private thing between them. Now her sister knew about him and what she called him, and probably his sister and perhaps his parents had seen the card she had sent. And yet part of her was unashamed of this. Perhaps tomorrow they would spend more time together at school – how would they address each other in front of the other pupils?