Pick 'n' Mix

by Jean Ure

  “You know, Frankie, I did warn you,” said Mum.

  “Yes,” I said, “I know! It’s just –” I waved a hand. “The others.”

  “Jemma and Skye? Oh, come on, I’m sure between the three of you you can manage all right! Or are you saying they’re tired of her?”

  “N-no. Not exactly.”

  Just that it wasn’t the same, with Melia tagging along. I didn’t think Jem would mind; I wasn’t so sure about Skye. Twice in the past few days she’d made excuses not to walk home with us. But I had promised Mum. She was relying on me! And I did owe Melia.

  “It would make her so happy,” said Mum. “And it would help me out. I have two of my ladies coming this morning for fittings.”

  What she meant was she couldn’t watch over Melia and see to her ladies at the same time. You just never knew with Melia what she was going to get up to. She might even open the front door and let Rags go rushing out. I had this vision of him joyously galloping up to the park by himself. Running across the road, straight under the wheels of a car… it made me go quite weak and watery just thinking of it. You had to watch out for Rags just as you did for Melia. It was that that decided me: I told Mum that I would take her. Anything rather than Rags being run over.

  Melia’s face lit up with one of her big beams when she heard the news.

  “Shopping centre! Shopping centre!” She held Rags’ front paws and they danced up and down together. “We’re going to the shopping centre!”

  “Not with Rags,” said Mum.

  “Not Rags?” Her beam faded. She loved Rags; she always wanted to include him in everything. She’d have taken him to school with her if she could. “Put him onna lead?” she pleaded.

  “Not in the shopping centre. They don’t like dogs in there.”

  “Mm.” Melia nodded, wisely. “I suppose in case he does a whoopsie. People might walk in it! Ugh, yuck! I walked in one, once. I got it all over. Pooh, pooh!” She held her nose. “What a pong! W—”

  “Yes, well, this is it,” said Mum. “You can’t be too careful. Off you go now!” She gave me this little encouraging smile as she held open the front door. “Have a good time!”

  I could see at once, from the look on Skye’s face, that she hadn’t been expecting me to bring Melia. Melia bawled, “HELLO, SKYE!” at the top of her voice, as usual. Skye said, “Yeah, hi,” and gave me this agonised look.

  “I couldn’t help it,” I hissed. “Mum’s got fittings all morning.”

  “What about your dad? Isn’t he there?”

  “Dad’s working.”

  Jem appeared at this point, and Melia went lolloping off to meet her.

  “Hello, Jem! We’re going to the shopping centre!”

  “We’ve had her all week,” said Skye. “Couldn’t one of the others take a turn?”

  I had to remind her that I was the one who’d originally offered to be responsible. Right from the start Angel had made it clear she wasn’t going to get involved.

  “And Tom’s worse than useless.”

  Even Skye couldn’t argue with that.

  “Melia’ll be OK,” I said. I said it as much to convince myself as to convince Skye. “So long as we just remember to keep an eye on her.”

  It would have been all right if we hadn’t gone into the China & Glass department of Turton’s. We never go into the China & Glass department! It was Skye’s fault; she was the one that took us there. She said she wanted to look for something for her nan’s birthday present. She wasn’t going to buy anything; she just wanted to see what was on offer. But it obviously wasn’t a sensible place to take Melia.

  We did our best to keep an eye on her. We kept all our eyes on her. We didn’t relax for a minute, hardly. You couldn’t with Melia. Wherever we went, she wanted to finger things. She kept snatching stuff up and shouting, “Hey, Frankie! Want one of these? Jem, Jem, how about this?”

  If she wasn’t touching, she was knocking things over. I mean, she didn’t even need to touch. All she had to do was just breathe and things went toppling down. Like we were walking past this stand with really expensive glasses, all sparkly like diamonds. Jem was telling us about her guinea pig, how she’d thought she’d lost him.

  “Honestly, we hunted everywhere. And then, guess what? Mum found him, all curled up in her –” she lowered her voice – “her underwear drawer!”

  So, yes, OK, me and Skye had been listening to the underwear story, but out of the corner of my eye I was still watching Melia. I didn’t know she was going to make a sudden dart. How was I to know? I’m not a mind reader! In any case, Melia’s mind was really muddled. It was that that made her behaviour so unpredictable.

  The first I knew was when she reached out a hand and crooned, “Ooh! Lovely glasses!” And before we realised what was happening one of them went bouncing to the floor. Thank goodness it was soft carpet! Cos those glasses, they cost £15 each. £15! Just for a glass.

  This really snotty woman came rushing over. Boy, was she ratty! She told us we ought to know better than to go round touching things.

  “We weren’t touching,” I said. I’d seen Melia’s hand; it hadn’t even reached the glasses. “We were just looking.”

  “Well, don’t!” snapped the woman.

  We felt really humiliated. Nothing like that had ever happened to us before! And anyway, it wasn’t fair to put the blame on us. We’d already told Melia not to touch; we couldn’t very well tell her not to look. Or to stop breathing. Cos I reckoned it was the breathing that had done it. Breathing too heavily and creating a draught. They obviously couldn’t have stacked their glasses very well if just a little bit of breath could upset them.

  We got out as fast as we could. It was Skye who led the charge, racing ahead like a daddy long legs with Jem whizzing in hot pursuit and me dragging Melia by the arm. Even though I had hold of her, she still managed to crash into a display stand and knock a bunch of hats to the floor, and then, just to make matters worse, almost trample on one.

  “I thought you were going to keep an eye on her?” panted Skye.

  I said, “I am! But she moves too fast.”

  We decided it would probably be best if we left Turton’s altogether and went somewhere else.

  “Somewhere she can’t break stuff.”

  It was Jem who suggested the HMV shop. “Go and have a look round.”

  “Can I touch?” said Melia.

  I said, “Yes, but only if you put things back where you got them.”

  “That’s a mistake,” said Skye.

  Big mistake. We shouldn’t ever have told Melia she could touch things. Before we know it, it’s all gone to her head and she’s snatching up CDs, one after another, crying, “Frankie, do you like the Pink Crystals? Jem, do you like Groove? Do you like Voice Over? Do you like Scream?” Shouting out the names of these bands, really loud for everyone to hear, so that all over the shop people are looking at us and sniggering, and Skye’s like, “Omigod, does she have to?”

  Jem’s got a fit of the giggles and Melia obviously thinks she’s impressing people cos she starts on this pretend swooning and fainting when she finds one of her favourites.

  “Pieter Kruger! Yum yum!” She’s pressing the CD to her lips and making slobbery kissy noises over it. “Yummy yummy yummy, y—”

  Skye makes a strangulated yelping sound and bolts for the exit. I grab the CD and stuff it back into the rack, then seize hold of Melia and march her out, followed by Jem, still giggling.

  “Well, I’m glad someone finds it funny,” hissed Skye.

  By now it wasn’t just Jem who was giggling but Melia too, except that she wasn’t so much giggling as giving these great swooping cackles like something out of a comic strip. Hoo hoo hoo! I don’t think she really knew what she was laughing at; she just wanted to join in with Jem. Skye tutted, impatiently.

  “Your face,” choked Jem. She contorted her features into a mad grimace, her teeth bared and her lips pulled back. “If you could have seen it!”

>   Skye doesn’t like to be laughed at. I don’t suppose anyone does. But it is worse for somebody like Skye, who is always so serious and tries so hard to be dignified.

  “This is a disaster,” she said.

  “Oh, I dunno,” said Jem, “I think it’s quite fun! You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

  She nudged at Melia, and Melia beamed proudly. I guess she thought she was pleasing us.

  “Let’s just go,” said Skye.

  I said, “What, you mean go home?”

  She looked at me, long and hard. “What else would you suggest?”

  Jem giggled again. “We could always go into Smith’s and let Melia trash the magazines.”

  “Yes, yes!” Melia clapped her hands. “Go into Smith’s! Go into Smith’s!”

  “No, thank you,” said Skye.

  I thought she was probably right, and that it might be best to take Melia back home. I wasn’t honestly sure how much more my nerves could stand.

  “Mind you, we shouldn’t ever have been in China and Glass in the first place,” I said. “Might have known she’d knock something over.”

  Skye stopped. She put her hands on her hips.

  “Are you saying it was my fault?”

  “I’m just saying. I don’t even know what we were doing there! Wasn’t like you bought anything.”

  “Hey, hey!” Before me and Skye could fall out, Jem had come prancing up, with Melia in tow. “Let’s go into Boots and try out lipsticks!”

  It was one of our favourite pastimes, going into Boots and sampling the cosmetics. I was tempted, in spite of myself. It seemed a bit of a waste, being in the shopping centre and not going into Boots.

  “Oh, come on!” said Jem. “There’s nothing she can break.”

  “Famous last words,” muttered Skye.

  Well, she didn’t break anything. She didn’t knock anything over. She didn’t start shouting and draw attention to herself. In fact, to be honest, we kind of forgot about her for a few minutes. It was almost like it was just the three of us, same as usual. And then I said, “Oh, God, where’s Melia?” and we all started flying about in a panic. We found her happily standing in front of a mirror with a tube of lipstick in her hand. She’d gone mad and plastered herself! Bright green eye shadow, with cheeks like big red beach balls and eyelashes sticking out in spider’s legs, stiff with mascara. She’d painted her eyebrows soot black, two furry caterpillars crawling across her brow, and was busy coating her lips with purple lipstick. I snatched it from her.

  “That’s not a tester!”

  “Oh, God, oh, God,” moaned Skye. “Put it back, quick, before someone sees!”

  We bundled out, in a panic – and then immediately began to worry in case we might have been caught on camera.

  “It’s theft,” said Skye. “We could be done!”

  “You were the one that said put it back,” said Jem.

  “You were the one that said go in there!”

  “Yeah, well, so? You didn’t have to come! You could have stayed outside.”

  “I would have if I’d known she was going to start stealing stuff!”

  “Maybe we should go back and, like… pay for it?” I said.

  “Don’t see why we should have to pay for it,” said Jem. “She’s your responsibility.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” snapped Skye. “Let’s just go and get it over with.”

  Nervously, we crept back into the store. I was expecting any moment a hand to descend on my shoulder. I felt like a criminal! I was a criminal. We had to get to that lipstick immediately and pay for it!

  Fortunately it wasn’t one of the expensive brands, but all the same I was grateful when Skye insisted on paying half. The lady who took our money was worried cos she said the lipstick had been opened. I told her that was all right.

  “Our friend did it and that’s why we’re buying it.”

  The lady took one look at Melia and said, “Ah. Right. I see.”

  “That was taking a chance,” hissed Jem, as we got back outside. “She could have called the p’lice!”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “What shall we do with the horrible thing?” I mean, who wants to wear purple lipstick? Skye said chuck it in the bin. It was Jem, who hadn’t even helped pay for it, who said give it to Melia. Melia’s big clown face, with its purple lips, broke into a delighted beam. A frightening sight! She hadn’t just got purple lips, she’d got purple teeth, as well. I wondered if we should take her back to Turton’s and into the Ladies and scrub her clean, but Skye, sounding a bit hysterical, said, “Let’s just go.” So we went.

  Me and Skye walked ahead, leaving Jem to trail behind with Melia. Considering she hadn’t even offered to pay her share of the lipstick, I didn’t feel too guilty.

  “After all,” as I said to Skye, “it was her idea, going into Boots. We’d already decided to go home. And omigod,” I wailed, “look what’s coming!”

  Skye said, “What, what?”

  Daisy Hooper, that was what. That girl had a positive knack for turning up where she was least wanted. She was standing outside McDonald’s and there just was no way of avoiding her. Me and Skye did our best. Determinedly we marched past with our noses in the air, pretending not to notice. And then I heard Melia’s happy cry: “HELLO, SNOT FACE!”

  Frankly, I just wanted the ground to burst open and swallow me up. It is one thing to refer to your enemy by a rude name behind her back; quite another to do it in front of her. As Skye said, “That’s really gone and blown it.” She’d know for sure where Melia had got it from.

  “Oh, who cares?” Jem skipped after us, defiantly dragging Melia by the hand. “She’s just a ratbag, anyway!”

  “I told her,” I said. “Melia, I told you! Snot Face isn’t her real name. You’re not supposed to call her that.”

  By the time we arrived home I was feeling quite frazzled. Mum said, “Well, Emilia looks as though she’s enjoyed herself! How did it go? Not so bad, was it?”

  Crossly I said, “Don’t ask! I’m going to take Rags out, and I’m going by myself.”

  I’d had enough responsibility for one morning.

  Chapter Six

  It was Melia who broke Tom’s science project. I’d seen her earlier, touching at it. I told her not to.

  “He hates people interfering with his stuff.”

  He’s not like Angel, who goes up in a puff of smoke if you even just look at things, but he can get quite snakey if you mess with one of his projects. I did warn her. What more was I supposed to do? He shouldn’t have brought it downstairs in the first place, let alone leave it on a low table, where she could get at it.

  I could see that it fascinated her. It was bristling with little glass tubes, and different-coloured wires, and it kept making this buzzing sound. Melia had discovered that by jiggling some of the wires she could make the buzz turn into a whine, and if she put a finger over the end of a tube she could make it pop and whistle.

  “You better hadn’t keep doing that,” I said.

  Even as I said it, her hand had gone reaching out again. She was like Rags, when he got obsessed with something. Like once when one of his dog biscuits rolled under the fridge, and Rags knew that it was there even though nobody else did. He could obviously smell it. He lay on his side on the floor for ages, frantically scraping with his paws and making squealing noises, until in the end Mum said it was driving her mad and she told Tom to, “Get down there and shine a torch under the fridge and see what his problem is,” and there was the biscuit, right at the back. Tom had to use a length of cane from the garden to poke it out.

  Rags was happy once he’d got his biscuit. I had the feeling Melia wouldn’t be happy till she’d succeeded in pulling out some of the wires and tubes. You could tell she was just itching to have a go. I knew she couldn’t be trusted! But I didn’t see why I should be expected to keep an eye on her every single minute of every day. I had to have some time to myself. It was only yesterday we’d been on our disastrous trip to th
e shopping centre; I reckoned I deserved a bit of a break from looking after Melia. I mean, the rest of the family surely had to do something?

  Mum was in the front room with one of her ladies. Tom was upstairs on his computer. Dad was working. Angel, on the other hand, wasn’t doing anything; not as far as I could see. Just lounging about in the kitchen, painting her nails with silver nail polish.

  “Look,” I said to Melia, “there’s Angel, painting her nails. Maybe she’d let you paint yours if you asked her nicely.” Then I shoved her into the kitchen and raced upstairs to get a bit of homework done in peace and quiet.

  Homework is not exactly my idea of fun, but it seems life is full of boring, time-wasting stuff that you are forced to do if you want to stay out of trouble. Dad says it is good for the soul. I can’t see it myself; I’m sure my soul would be far better off without all the aggravation. But the shadow of Mr Hargreaves was hanging over me, so I reckoned I’d better at least make an attempt at doing some of his horrible maths homework.

  When I went back downstairs at lunch time Mum was still in the front room, Tom, as far as I knew, was still sitting at his computer, and Angel had vanished. I found Melia in the kitchen on her own, sitting with Rags in his dog bed.

  “Did you paint your nails?” I said.

  Melia shook her head. She seemed a bit down.

  “Did you ask her?”

  “She wouldn’t let me.”

  “Well, really!” I felt quite exasperated. How mean could you get? Angel appeared at that moment, her nails all gleaming silver. “You might have let Melia have a go!” I said.

  Angel tossed her head. “Don’t see why I should let her use my stuff. Let her use yours.”

  “I don’t have any! I don’t paint my nails.”

  “Hardly could,” said Angel, “state they’re in. Nothing there to paint.”

  It’s true my nails are a bit stubby. That is because in moments of stress I tend to bite them. I have a lot of stress in my life, what with people like Mr Hargreaves bellowing and bawling, and Mum nagging at me to tidy my bedroom, put things away after me, pick my clothes up off the floor, I mean the list just goes on and on. It is all STRESS. Little did I know that more was about to descend on me…