Jacqueline Wilson's Happy Holidays

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Look, if we go all the way back to get him and then have to climb back all over the rocks, it’ll take for ever. Let’s just slip down to the beach and claim it – and then we’ll go back and make friends with him if we must, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  ‘Great,’ said Kelly. She was immediately off like a mountain goat down the other side of the rocks to the perfect private beach.

  ‘Kelly, wait. I can’t go as fast. And it’s all difficult and slippery. Suppose we can’t get back up?’

  ‘Of course we’ll be able to,’ Kelly said, leaping a long way down.

  She landed lightly on a flat rock, but it wasn’t wedged securely. It wobbled. Kelly wobbled too, but leapt again before she fell. She landed on another lower rock, safely – but only just.

  ‘Kelly! Do be careful. If you slip and break your leg how could I possibly carry you all the way back?’ I protested.

  ‘You’re such a worryguts, Tim. I’m not going to slip,’ Kelly shouted.

  She leapt.

  She landed.

  She slipped – and fell.

  I screamed.

  She grabbed another rock, hung there, stretched one leg to another rock, steadied herself, edged downwards, and stood properly on her two tough feet.

  ‘Kelly! Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I thought you were going to fall all the way down.’

  ‘I didn’t fall at all. I slid that bit on purpose,’ Kelly insisted.

  But when we both got down to the soft sand I saw a great gash on Kelly’s leg.

  ‘You’re bleeding!’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said Kelly, dabbing her leg impatiently. ‘Hey, isn’t this beach fantastic? Aren’t you pleased I discovered it for you?’

  ‘It’s a deep cut, Kelly. You must clean it.’

  ‘Oh Tim, stop fussing. I’m always getting cuts. They’re usually far far worse than that. I climbed over a wall with all this broken glass stuck on top once. Look!’ Kelly lifted her T-shirt and showed a zig-zag scar across her tummy.

  ‘Gosh!’ I said, very impressed.

  ‘I used to kid the guys in my class it was like a zip and I could shove my hand straight into my stomach.’

  ‘You couldn’t, could you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Well anyway, you ought to go paddling. The sea’s salty. It’s very healing. My dad had a boil on his bottom once, and he sat in a basin of salty water.’

  Kelly snorted with laughter. So did I. We laughed so much we nearly fell over on the sand.

  ‘What a place to have a boil!’ said Kelly. ‘OK, OK. I’ll paddle, just to keep you happy.’

  We both paddled. Kelly winced a bit as the water washed over her leg but she didn’t complain.

  ‘You’re ever so brave, Kelly,’ I said.

  Kelly beamed at me. A wave splashed high and she jumped to stop her shorts getting wet. Soon we were both holding hands and jumping every wave. We got wet after all but it didn’t really matter. Little droplets of water on my eyelashes made me see rainbows everywhere.

  ‘This is our beach, right? We’re the only ones who can come here,’ said Kelly. ‘Let’s stake it out as ours.’

  She searched the sands until she found a big stick. She went near the water’s edge where the sand was firm and wrote a message in spiky capital letters.

  KELLY-AND-TIM BEACH. PRIVATE. KEEP OUT.

  Then she bent over and started drawing a big heart. Well, it was meant to be a heart but it went a bit wobbly and lop-sided. She wrote K L T inside.

  ‘What’s it say?’ I said. ‘Klut? Klot?’

  ‘You’re the clot,’ said Kelly, pink from bending over. ‘It says Kelly Loves Tim. Right?’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ I said.

  ‘Well?’ said Kelly. She held out the stick.

  Obediently I drew my own heart and put T L K inside.

  ‘Right!’ said Kelly. She came up very close.

  ‘Shut your eyes!’ she commanded.

  I did as I was told. I felt this quick dab on my cheek. I think she kissed me. But when I opened my eyes she’d already darted right across the sand towards the rocks.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BISCUITS WAS VERY huffy indeed when Kelly and I climbed back onto the ordinary beach. I kept telling him this and telling him that but he wouldn’t answer. I tried cracking some of our extra-funny jokes but he wouldn’t even smile.

  Kelly absolutely fell about laughing and said, ‘Oh Tim, you are funny.’

  Biscuits became even less friendly. He chatted to Kelly’s little brother Dean instead. He helped him finish a giant tube of Smarties and in return he built Dean a little boat in the sand just big enough for him to sit in. He encouraged Dean to hold the empty Smarties packet up to his eye like a telescope.

  It was a very basic boat.

  ‘Shall we make it into a proper boat?’ I suggested. ‘What sort of boat do you want it to be? Is it a rowing boat or a sailing boat or maybe a big ocean-going liner?’

  ‘I bet you’ve done a special project on blooming boats,’ said Biscuits. ‘It’s just a little sand boat for Dean, OK?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s my boat, not your boat,’ said Dean.

  ‘Leave the little boys with their soppy boats and come and swim, Tim,’ said Kelly, trying to pull me away.

  I dithered, desperate to keep in with both Biscuits and Kelly. Eventually we all went in for a swim. Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave even dangled Keanu in up to his ankles.

  Kelly was a seriously super swimmer, much better than Biscuits or me. She showed off rather a lot, and kept challenging us to races. She won every time. Biscuits stopped competing. He lay on his back and practised spouting like a whale. I tried too but I couldn’t get the knack of spouting. The water went in instead of out and I had a major choking fit. I retreated to the shallows after that and hung around, getting a bit shivery.

  I was even more shivery by the time we’d all got out and got dressed.

  ‘We all need to run about and get warm,’ said Dad. ‘I know. French cricket!’

  But luckily my mum and Kelly’s mum came back from their trip to the market just then and they’d bought hot dogs. They were only lukewarm dogs actually, but they still tasted great, and it stopped Dad banging on about cricket. Even Biscuits cheered up a little – but he looked anxious after he’d eaten his hot dog in three great big bites.

  ‘That’s not lunch, is it?’ he said.

  Mum sighed. ‘You and your stomach, Biscuits,’ she said. But she was in a very good mood after her trip out. She had lots of carrier bags full of shoes and tops and trousers and underwear. She also had another carrier full of food.

  ‘Picnic,’ she said.

  ‘Is it for us lot too?’ said Kelly.

  ‘No Kelly, you know we said we’d find a nice pub with a garden,’ said Kelly’s mum, trying a new T-shirt on Dave. It had a rude message on it. She’d bought him some new underpants too with an even ruder message.

  Kelly’s mum and Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave tried to get my mum and dad to go to the pub too. My mum said they were welcome to share our picnic on the beach if they wanted. She seemed much friendlier with Kelly’s mum now – though she frowned at Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave’s new naughty underpants.

  ‘There might not be enough picnic to go round,’ said Biscuits.

  He was very relieved when Kelly’s mum and Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave and Kelly herself and Dean and Keanu all went off to the pub while we stayed on the beach. Kelly wanted to go to the pub for pizza and chips but she was very cross to leave us behind. Well . . . me.

  ‘I can come back to see Tim after lunch, can’t I?’ she said.

  ‘We’ll see, pet. We might go on a fishing trip or something,’ said Kelly’s mum’s boyfriend Dave.

  ‘Well, can’t Tim come too?’ said Kelly.

  ‘He doesn’t like fishing,’ said Biscuits.

  Kelly pulled a face and made a fuss. We could still hear her complaining an
d arguing halfway down the beach.

  ‘That kiddie isn’t half a little madam,’ said Mum, dealing out paper plates and little packs of sandwiches.

  ‘She’s a sparky little thing though. A cracking swimmer,’ said Dad.

  ‘I like her,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t,’ said Biscuits.

  We didn’t say much else while we ate our picnic lunch. It was banana sandwiches. I particularly like banana sandwiches but I gave half of mine to Biscuits. And my sausage roll. And most of my crisps too.

  ‘You’re trying to bribe me to be friends,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Well. It’s working,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘Oh Biscuits! Are we really friends again? Oh great!’

  ‘I didn’t really break friends. You were the one who laughed at me and went off with Kelly.’

  ‘I didn’t really mean to,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know what you see in her,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘I don’t either,’ I said. ‘But I do like her. I like you too! I wish you and Kelly would be friends.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ said Biscuits. ‘What were you two doing all that time over the rocks?’

  ‘Oh. Just exploring. There’s this little cove.’

  ‘Is it good there? Any pirate caves?’

  ‘I don’t really know. We didn’t find any.’

  ‘We could find some,’ said Biscuits, getting up.

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yep. Come on. We’ll go and explore.’ Biscuits was tying up the laces on his trainers. ‘In the right foot gear this time.’ He grabbed his spade. ‘Here’s my trusty bashing stick in case we encounter any wild animals – or boys.’

  ‘I think you might find it an awful bore getting over all the rocks,’ I said.

  I didn’t know what to do. I so badly wanted Biscuits to stay friends with me. But I wasn’t sure I should let him come to Tim-and-Kelly beach. Of course it wasn’t really our private place. I wouldn’t really mind sharing it with Biscuits – but I knew Kelly would!

  Mum didn’t like the idea much either.

  ‘I don’t want you clambering over those rocks out of sight. I want you to play here on this beach where we can keep an eye on you.’

  ‘Look, we’re not babies,’ said Biscuits. ‘And Tim and Kelly went over the rocks this morning.’

  ‘That was nothing to do with me,’ said Mum, glaring at Dad.

  ‘It’s not fair if I can’t go and explore too,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘Hey, I’ll go with the boys,’ said Dad.

  So Dad and Biscuits and I set off over the rocks. I just hoped like anything Kelly wouldn’t find out. I felt pretty anxious when we got to the top of the rocks because I suddenly remembered the messages we’d left in the sand. There might be some serious teasing.

  But the tide had come in. Like a kindly mum with a flannel, the sea had washed the sand clean of all marks.

  ‘Wow! It’s a super beach,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘We can build a castle now the sand’s still wet,’ I said.

  ‘You and your castles,’ said Biscuits. ‘You’re like one of them Egyptians wanting a pyramid built, only you haven’t got millions of slaves, you’ve just got me. OK then. Let’s get cracking.’

  There was just one problem. We only had one spade with us.

  ‘Feel free to use mine, Tim,’ said Biscuits, after he’d had three feeble little digs and started a sandcastle the size of a pygmy molehill. Share and share alike.’ He handed the spade over with a happy sigh and sat on a rock.

  I had a go. A long go. But the sand still wasn’t obedient enough. I had this splendid vision of a castle in my head but it kept blurring and collapsing in the actual sand.

  ‘Let’s dig down and make a big hole instead,’ I said, giving up.

  I started digging. And digging and digging and digging.

  Then Dad took a turn. He got very red in the face. He breathed very heavily. Then he straightened up, rubbing his back.

  ‘I’ll have to stop, it’s doing my back in. I’m going back to Mum. I’ll tell her it’s perfectly safe for you two boys to play here. You won’t go in the sea, will you?’

  ‘No, we’re going to dig and see how far down we can go,’ I said.

  ‘And you won’t try and climb up the cliff?’ said Dad.

  ‘Me? And Biscuits?’ I said. ‘Leave it out, Dad.’

  ‘Right. OK then. Have fun digging,’ said Dad.

  He started climbing back over the rocks, still puffing and blowing.

  ‘It’s your turn with the spade, Biscuits,’ I said.

  Biscuits puffed a lot too. And blew. He leant on the spade.

  ‘Isn’t it big enough now?’

  ‘No! We’re not even properly down to the dark sand yet.’

  ‘And what’s going to happen when we dig through that? We’ll come out in Australia and everyone will talk like Neighbours and we’ll have koala bears and kangaroos jumping all round us.’

  ‘Of course we couldn’t ever get to Australia! Don’t you know anything? Honestly, Biscuits, you’re so silly sometimes. We’d have to get right through the Earth’s crust and you can’t do that, and then you’d go into the core and that’s boiling-boiling-boiling hot and—’

  ‘And I feel boiling-boiling-boiling hot right this minute,’ said Biscuits. He looked at the hole. He looked at me. ‘I know. Get in it, Tim. And sit down.’

  ‘Like this?’ I did what he said, puzzled. ‘Biscuits? What are you doing? Oh, don’t start filling it in!’

  ‘I’m making you a boat, right?’

  ‘Wrong!’ I said. I’d wanted to dig the biggest hole ever and see all the different layers of sand and work out how far down they went. I didn’t want to mess about playing baby-boats. But I did want Biscuits to stay friends. So I sighed and gave up on the idea of Huge Hole.

  ‘OK, OK, I’m in a boat,’ I said, and I even helped Biscuits heap the sand back into the hole around me. And on top of me.

  ‘Not on my legs!’

  ‘Yes. Go on. It’s more fun like that.’ He piled sand up on my lap.

  ‘It’s going to look like the boat’s sinking,’ I said. ‘Watch the edge of that spade, Biscuits!’

  ‘Sorry, sorry!’ He put the spade down and started patting the damp sand into place.

  It felt very heavy, almost uncomfortably so. I tried to shift my legs but they were already firmly stuck under the sand. I tried a violent kick and just about managed to crack the sand above my toes.

  ‘Don’t!’ said Biscuits, and he got wetter sand and patted it hard.

  It set like concrete.

  ‘It’s heavy,’ I said.

  ‘Well keep still,’ said Biscuits, piling more sand on.

  I tried to push it away but Biscuits took the spade and shovelled hard. My arms got covered. I was stuck.

  ‘This isn’t a boat. Not unless it’s a submarine,’ I said.

  ‘Up periscope,’ said Biscuits, heaping more sand right under my chin.

  ‘Biscuits! Let me out now. I don’t want to play Boats any more.’

  ‘This isn’t Playing Boats. This is the Burying Tim game,’ said Biscuits, patting and smoothing the sand harder and harder.

  ‘Oh ha ha,’ I said.

  Though it didn’t feel very funny. I didn’t like being stuck there in the sand like that, with just my head sticking out.

  Biscuits was panting with effort by now. He stopped and straightened up, wiping his wet brow. He looked at me, his head on one side.

  ‘There! You’re done now,’ he said.

  ‘Thank goodness. OK. Let me out then. Biscuits? Biscuits!’

  Biscuits had started to walk away!

  ‘Biscuits, come back!’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Biscuits, turning and cupping his ear as if he couldn’t quite hear me.

  ‘Biscuits, please! Don’t mess about.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

&nb
sp; ‘Ah. That’s me. Silly,’ said Biscuits. ‘Only I’m not the one stuck up to my neck in sand. You are. Even though you’re so clever.’

  ‘Oh, Biscuits. Don’t be like that. Look, get me out. It’s stopped being a joke. It’s not funny at all.’

  ‘I think it’s ever so funny. Bye, Tim!’ said Biscuits, and he started a lumbering run towards the rocks.

  ‘Biscuits! Look, you’re not frightening me. It’s just your stupid joke. It’s very very boring. So let’s get it over with, right?’

  Biscuits didn’t seem to be listening. He started clambering over the rocks.

  ‘I don’t care a bit,’ I said. ‘I know you just want me to shout after you.’

  He didn’t turn round.

  He climbed to the top and then started going down the other side. Then he dropped down. And disappeared.

  ‘Biscuits!’ I shouted.

  A gull screamed back at me overhead. Biscuits had gone. I was all on my own.

  Stuck up to my neck on a deserted beach. My heart went bang bang bang inside my chest. The gull cried again, swooping low, so that I could see its cruel yellow beak.

  I shut my eyes quick.

  ‘Go away!’ I said.

  It was meant to be a shout but it came out as a feeble whisper.

  I waited. My eyes were getting watery behind their lids. When I dared open them tears spilled down my cheeks. I blinked hard. I didn’t want Biscuits to catch me crying when he came back.

  If he came back.

  Of course he’d come back. Or Mum and Dad would come looking for me. Eventually.

  There was nothing to cry about. The gull had flown away. It hadn’t mistaken me for a juicy fish. I was fine. I couldn’t come to any harm even though I was trapped.

  I tried to calm myself by staring out to sea. Then I watched the waves. Was the tide coming in or out? I couldn’t remember! What if the tide was coming in – rapidly? Suppose it started lapping right around my sand prison, the waves splashing over my head?

  I tried kicking madly and thrusting my arms up but the sand was set too hard. It wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t even make the tiniest crack in it now.

  ‘Oh Biscuits, come back!’ I cried. ‘Please! It’s not a joke any more! I’m frightened.’

  Then I heard noises up above me, from right up on the clifftop. I tried to peer round to see who was there but my neck was so packed with sand that I couldn’t even swivel my head properly. I heard bumps and thumps. It sounded as if someone was climbing down the cliffs.