Chapter five

 The girls made up after school on the way home, but only after Vendula promised we’d go past Danek’s house. 

Danek was Alice’s latest crush, a teenage hooligan she’d been drooling over since last Monday when we 

discovered him sitting on a park bench, spitting on the footpath.

     ‘He’s gooorgeous,’ Alice had raved.

     ‘And so accomplished,’ I remarked before Vendula had time to do anything about it.

     Alice looked at her and frowned.

     ‘Well, all that spitting, you know, it takes some practice to get it just right,’ Vendula offered lamely, trying 

to save the situation.

     Alice rolled her eyes and told Vendula she was a loser.

     ‘You’ll never catch anyone looking like this,’ Alice smirked, seizing this opportunity to berate Vendula 

about her being Vendula.

     Vendula stared. She had no intention of ‘catching’ anyone. She liked her pigtails and she didn’t give a 

at’s ass about what people thought.      

     Shaking her head in disbelief, Alice threw her hands up in the air. ‘You look like a clown in those pants.’ 

     In reply Vendula shrugged; she liked the braces, they held up Pavel’s trousers nicely and anyway, she felt 

comfortable so why bother changing anything?   

     For a few moments Alice was speechless. Then she made one last attempt to set Vendula on the right 

path. She offered her some old lipstick and eyeshadow just to see what a difference a bit of colour would 

make but Vendula refused saying that Mother would seriously freak out.

      To this Alice replied with a grimace and a tap to her forehead to indicate what she thought of Mother’s 

interference in Vendula’s world.

     For once, Vendula agreed with Alice. Of course, she would have preferred Mother to be a bit more 

‘with it’, a bit more understanding, because, believe you me, dealing with her was nothing but a trial.

     Failing to note the passage of time, Mother treated Vendula as if she were still in primary school. 

Not only did she not allow her to wear make-up but she also argued with her over Vendula’s choice 

of clothes. To make matters worse Mother insisted Vendula pay attention to her schoolwork, complete 

all homework and go to bed early on school nights! And that wasn’t all! On top of everything, Vendula 

also had to do chores and spend time with the family.

     In contrast, Alice’s mum was a dream. Aunt Babsie was hardly ever home and when she was, Alice 

was allowed to stay up as long as she liked. Aunt Babsie never checked homework declaring it a waste 

of time, and she insisted Alice wear make-up to school. When they went shopping, Aunt Babsie 

approved everything with anything you like, darling, so the Christmas Alice turned twelve, she bought 

herself a padded bra and a pair of stilettos.

    You’re the best mum in the world! Alice had cried as she wobbled across the living room, trying on 

her new shoes. Seeing the envy on Vendula’s face, Aunt Babsie smiled. Later she treated the girls to 

a hot toddy in the kitchen and told them what there was to know about men.

     Perhaps not surprisingly, given the differing parenting philosophies of the two matriarchs, the 

ladies did not get on. As a concession to tradition, a nodding acquaintance was kept up between the 

Zhvuk and the Klutz household, the precarious friendship between the girls treated with disapproval 

by Mother and casual indifference by Aunt Babsie, who feigned interest in Vendula to pump her for 

information. On the whole, I was glad Vendula was a Zhvuk and not a Klutz because the Klutzes 

were an odd pair.

     Uncle Klutz, affectionately known as The Old Idiot, was a short, pear-shaped man with a silly 

birdlike face and a talent for missing the point. A gloomy grumbler, he had but one passion in his 

life: his Fiat. Unlike Aunt Babsie who took keen interest in just about everything that did not 

concern her, Uncle Klutz’s world revolved around his garage where he spent all his free time. 

Of course, Aunt Babsie, after seventeen years of marriage, developed an understanding attitude.

     ‘He could die in there for all I care,’ she used to tell the girls, ‘and the sooner, the better.’    

     Yes, Aunt Babsie was nothing if not understanding. Big, loud and ostentatious, Aunt Babsie also 

had an affectionate family nickname: The Old Cow. Her spare time was spent discussing the 

love life of teenage girls, applauding boldness and encouraging experimentation in a most 

unappealing way; still, she understood the passage of time and was popular for it.

     Really, you couldn’t find a family more different to ours. Unlike Vendula’s parents whose marriage 

prospered on the basis of Mother being indisputably in charge, the Klutzes argued constantly. They 

argued like lawyers; battles were waged about too many things to mention here but mainly they were 

about The Young Slut Alice. Uncle K., you see, did not approve of Aunt Babsie’s parenting methods.

     ‘I’ll have none of these shenanigans here,’ he grumbled when he caught us dressing up in 

Alice’s room. He was going to take action, set up some rules! Uncle K. shouted towards the open door 

but Aunt Babsie, as usual, swiftly stepped in.

     ‘Shush, you idiot!’ Aunt Babsie, drawing on years of husband-handling experience, barked. 

‘You know nothin’ about nothin’ so keep your trap shut.’

     Uncle Klutz took a deep breath.  He meant to say something in his defense but Aunt Babsie, well, 

she had presence, about a hundred and twenty kilos of it, and she knew how to use it. Mustachios 

bristling, Aunt Babsie put up her fist. That fist, purple, meaty, swollen like a ripe tomato about to 

burst, she put up very close to Uncle Klutz’s nose, and he, thinking he’d like to strangle The Old Cow, 

blinked furiously but said nothing.

   When the silence emanating from the kitchen became eerie, Vendula suggested we’d go see if he was 

all right.

     ‘Ah, don’t worry about him,’ Alice, waving her hands to dry her freshly painted nails, rolled her eyes 

dismissively. ‘The Old Idiot isn’t worth it.’

     What could Vendula do? She had to agree.

     ‘Certainly not,’ Vendula nodded. ‘Not worth it at all.’