Pick 'n' Mix

by Jean Ure

  It came in the shape of Tom, crashing furiously through the kitchen door.

  “Who’s been messing with my science project? Was it you?”

  He glared at me, his eyes popping. I retreated, hastily, behind the kitchen table. I am quite accustomed to Angel being in a rage, she practically lives in one; but Tom almost never gets mad. As a rule he is just, like, totally unflappable. Dad once said that if you told him an asteroid was about to collide with the planet and wipe us all out, he would just grunt, “Uh?” So on the rare occasions when he does blow up, it can be quite scary.

  “It was you.” He advanced upon me, round the table. “I know it was you!”

  “It’s always her,” said Angel.

  I opened my mouth to protest: “I haven’t been anywhere near your rotten science project!” But then I caught sight of Melia, crouched in the dog bed, trembling, with both arms wrapped tightly round Rags as if for protection, and the words froze on my lips. All that came out was a small, stifled squawk.

  “Just admit it!” roared Tom.

  I swallowed. Melia looked up at me, beseechingly.

  “What’s going on?” Mum had come in. “I feel tension! Who’s done what, and why?”

  Angel pointed silently at me.

  Mum said, “Frankie? What have you been up to now?”

  “She’s only gone and ruined my science project.” Tom said it bitterly. “Took me days to set up, that did.”

  “Shouldn’t have left it on the table,” I muttered.

  “It was perfectly all right on there if you hadn’t gone and touched it!”

  “I didn’t touch it!”

  “So how come all the wires have been pulled out?”

  Tom was shouting; he was really mad. I wanted so much to shout back at him, “It wasn’t me, it was Melia!” But she’d crept out of the bed and her hand had stolen into mine. I could feel her shaking.

  “Frankie, how did it happen?” said Mum.

  Crossly I said, “I don’t know! It was an accident. I was chasing Rags. He bumped into the table, and it all went on the floor.”

  Tom’s eyes had narrowed. “That wouldn’t make the wires come out! Someone’s been yanking at them.”

  “I haven’t yanked at your manky wires! It was an accident.”

  “All right,” said Mum, “all right. Let’s try and calm down. Frankie, I think the least you can do is apologise to your brother. And Tom, can you put the wires back again?”

  There was a moment’s silence while we both brooded. Then somewhat grudgingly Tom said, “Well, yeah, I s’ppose… but it’ll take all day!” I mumbled that I was sorry it had happened, and Mum suggested we all sat down and had some lunch.

  “I do think,” she added, “that it would be safer, Tom, if you took your project back upstairs. That way, there can’t be any more accidents.”

  Tom glowered. “If it was an accident.”

  “I said! It was!”

  “Tom! Frankie!” Mum rapped on the kitchen table. “Please! I’m sorry it happened and I’m sorry it means more work for you, Tom, but Frankie has apologised, she can’t do more. Let’s stop, now, we’re upsetting Emilia. It’s all right, sweetheart!” Mum put an arm round Melia’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “You’re not the one that’s in trouble.”

  You’d have thought, after that, Melia might have learnt her lesson. You’d have thought she might have been a bit careful what she did with her hands and feet. But if anything it just seemed to make her worse. Later that day, she broke Mum’s favourite coffee mug. I watched her do it. I’d just made some coffee ’specially to take in to Mum, cos she was working so hard with all these ladies turning up and I like to do these little things occasionally, just to help out. Washing up, for instance, or vacuuming. I ’specially enjoy vacuuming. I used to enjoy ironing but I’m not allowed to do that any more, since one of Angel’s blouses got shrivelled and everyone blamed me. I always get the blame for everything. It never even occurred to Tom, or to Mum, that it might have been Melia and not me that had pulled out Tom’s wires. Oh, no! It had to be Frankie. But it was definitely Melia that broke Mum’s mug.

  I’d put it out on the table, ready to pour the water in, and even as I reached out for the kettle Melia had gone flumping past with her arms flailing about and sent it flying. She wasn’t even aware that she’d done it! I stared, in disbelief. I just couldn’t believe that she’d gone and broken it. I’d given that mug to Mum last year, on her birthday. I’d chosen it ’specially cos it was so pretty, I knew Mum would love it. It had all flowers painted on it, like the ones she grew in the garden. Pansies, I think they were.

  Mum had been really pleased. She’d said, “Oh, Frankie, that is quite beautiful! From now on, I shall make it my special coffee mug. Everyone take note… this is the mug I have my coffee in!”

  Melia turned round. One of her feet went scrunch. She looked down, in surprise.

  “Frankie,” she cried, “you’ve broken the mug! Frankie, you’re so clumsy.”

  I am not an evil-tempered person, I really am not. I don’t fly into tremendous rages and yell at people. But in that moment I felt like getting hold of Melia and shaking her. I said, “Listen, goofball!” and I gave her a poke. “How’m I s’pposed to have done it? I wasn’t anywhere near! I was over there, wasn’t I? By the stove.” Poke. “It was you! You were the—”

  That was when she skidded on a bit of broken mug and went down flomp on to the floor.

  I might as well be honest. My immediate reaction was to feel intensely irritated. Trust Melia! And then Rags came wobbling over, with his tail wagging, and pushed his ball at her. He loves it when people are down at his level, he thinks they want to play.

  It was Melia, not me, who pushed him to safety. “Rags, go ’way!” she cried. “You get hurt!”

  For a moment, I almost softened. I mean, I’d yelled at her, I’d called her goofball, I’d pushed her over, and all she could think was that Rags might get hurt. But then I looked at the shattered pieces of Mum’s broken mug, and all my anger rose up again and nearly choked me. I yanked Melia to her feet and shoved both her and Rags into the garden while I got the dustpan and brush and began sweeping up the bits. Angel came in while I was doing it.

  “Oh,” she said, “you’ve broken Mum’s mug!”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said. “It was Melia. She just walked past and it fell over.” I sighed. “Mum loved her mug!”

  “Hm, well… now you know how it feels,” said Angel.

  She didn’t say it unkindly, she actually sounded quite sympathetic for once, but the fact is she has never really forgiven me for shrivelling her blouse. I wondered if I would ever forgive Melia for breaking Mum’s mug.

  I supposed I would have to; you can’t go on nursing a grudge for ever. Not unless you’re Angel, who tends to collect grudges the way other people collect shoes, or china ornaments. She stuffs them all into one big bag which she carries around with her wherever she goes. Dunno what she’ll do when the bag gets filled; start on a second one, I guess.

  I tried quite hard to go on feeling aggrieved. Mum had so loved her mug! But then this really hysterical thing happened and my grudge just melted away. We were downstairs, watching television; me, and Mum, and Dad. Melia was in the bath, Tom was in his room, still putting his wires back, Angel was in the hall, saying goodbye to her latest boyfriend (whose name I cannot now remember, she has had so many of them). Suddenly, the air was ripped apart by this bloodcurdling screech and what sounded like a herd of buffalo thundering down the stairs. Dad said, “What in heaven’s name is going on?” and we all rushed out into the hall.

  The thundering was Rags tearing down the stairs, with Melia, clutching a bath towel round herself, thumping after him.

  “Rags stole my knickers!” shrieked Melia.

  They were dangling from his mouth. As he reached the hall he rolled an eye at us and galloped off, shaking the knickers from side to side. Melia galloped in hot pursuit. Down the hall, up the hall, back up
the stairs, back down the stairs, still clutching at her bath towel.

  In the midst of all the noise and confusion, Tom appeared on the landing. He didn’t seem to notice anything peculiar going on. Very solemnly he informed us that he had put his wires back in – “It is functioning again” – before walking past Melia, in her bath towel, walking past Rags, with his knickers, and stomping off in silence to the kitchen.

  For some reason, this cracked Mum up; and once Mum had cracked up, we all cracked up. I was giggling at Rags, who’d managed to get his head through one of the knicker legs and was now wearing them on top of his head like a bonnet. I guess that was what the boyfriend was laughing at too. He cried, “Go, Rags!” and made a snatch at the knickers as Rags wheeled past. Mum seemed to have been more amused by Tom. I don’t know what Dad was amused by, Tom or Rags or both, but he was definitely laughing. Even Melia was laughing. Great squeals came bursting out of her, making her shake so much she almost lost control of her bath towel. Mum rushed and caught at it just in time.

  The only one who didn’t laugh was Angel. She stood by the front door, stiff with outrage, her lips all pursed and puckered like she was sucking on a lemon. She was embarrassed, I suppose, because of her boyfriend being there, though I really don’t know what she had to be embarrassed about. They weren’t her knickers. And Melia was covered in a towel. Well, more or less. The boyfriend wasn’t embarrassed, but Angel likes to stand on her dignity. Plus she has no sense of humour.

  I did find it difficult, though, after that, to go on feeling cross with Melia. She couldn’t help being the way she was. She didn’t mean to upset people, breaking things and knocking things over; it just happened. I suddenly felt generous. I decided to make a REALLY BIG sacrifice.

  “Hey, Melia!” I said, as we went to bed that night.

  She looked at me uncertainly, pulling up the duvet and stuffing a corner of it into her mouth.

  “It’s OK,” I said. “I’m not mad at you! I was going to ask you something.”

  Melia went on munching at the duvet, her eyes big and apprehensive. She obviously didn’t trust me. She thought I was some kind of horrible bully!

  “I was wondering,” I said, “whether you’d like Rags to sleep with you? Just for tonight! Just this once.”

  That got her going. She sprang up immediately, her face engulfed in a great beam.

  “Frankie, Frankie, thank you, thank you!” Before I knew what she was doing she’d hurled herself at me and locked both arms round my neck. And then she hesitated, and in doubtful tones whispered, “Frankie, I didn’t really break the mug, did I?”

  I told her not to worry about it. “These things happen. Rags, you go and sleep with Melia! Just for tonight.”

  I don’t know how long he stayed with her, but when I woke up in the morning he was cuddled up next to me, as usual. He knew whose dog he was!

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, at break, while Skye was having an extra music lesson to make up for the one she’d missed, me and Jem sat in the downstairs cloakroom, huddled together over one of the hot water pipes. We are not supposed to sit in the cloakroom, we are supposed to be outside even when it is ice cold and freezing, but just now and again we manage to sneak in undetected. There is hideous trouble, of course, if we are found, and if Skye had been with us we wouldn’t have been doing it since Skye is one of those law-abiding people that think rules are there to be obeyed. Me and Jem are more, like, some rules are there to be obeyed; others are just stupid and pointless. Such as being made to go outside and freeze half to death. I couldn’t help a slightly guilty feeling that it was a great deal more comfortable without Skye there to lecture us and nag.

  “Look,” I said, peering through one of the mesh-covered windows, “people are turning blue. Their lips are blue. And oh, look, there’s Daisy! I do believe her knee caps are bouncing up and down.”

  Jem said, “Yeah.” She seemed preoccupied. I watched for a while as she frowningly sorted a tube of Smarties into different colours.

  “Green one,” I said. I pointed. “Over there.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Absently, Jem picked up the green one and popped it into her mouth, thus breaking her own rule about not starting to eat until all the colours had been arranged in rows.

  I turned back to the window. “People could die out there. Get frostbite and die. You know what happens if you get frostbite? You rot. All your fingers and toes drop off. And then it starts to creep up your legs. And it smells. Once that happens, you’re doomed.”

  Jem said, “Yeah?” Then suddenly, cramming her mouth with a great fistful of Smarties, she gabbled, “Saddy meenskygobyernanprez.”

  Well, that was what it sounded like.

  “You what?” I said.

  Jem swallowed. “On Saturday me and Skye are going to go and buy her nan’s birthday present.”

  I said, “You and Skye?”

  “She wants to get that little flower thingie we saw? The thing with primroses? Cos that’s what her nan’s name is… Primrose.”

  “Yes,” I said, “I know.” Skye had told us when we were in Turton’s, looking at the china and glass, before Melia had gone and breathed too heavily and upset things.

  “Yeah. Well! I just thought I’d tell you,” said Jem.

  I took a deep breath. “You and Skye are going?”

  “Yup.” Jem nodded.

  “On your own?”

  She looked uncomfortable at that.

  “Without me?”

  Jem picked up a Smartie and lobbed it at her mouth, and missed.

  I said again, “Without me?”

  “It’s just… we didn’t want you bringing Melia!”

  “You mean, Skye didn’t want me bringing Melia.”

  “Not just Skye.” Jem mumbled it, apologetically. “Me, as well.”

  “But you’re her friend!” She was always going on about my friend Jemma. “She thinks you like her!”

  “I do like her,” said Jem. “I do. Honestly! She’s really sweet and I hate it when people like Daisy make fun of her, but you’ve got to admit she does ruin things!”

  I couldn’t deny it. It really was quite impossible to relax and enjoy yourself when you had Melia with you. You had to be on your guard every single second, and even then she could take you by surprise and go plunging off into disaster.

  “So I won’t bring her,” I said.

  Jem looked at me, doubtfully. “Won’t your mum make you?”

  “She won’t make me.” She’d just be disappointed, that was all. I was a bit disappointed myself, to tell the truth. As a rule I really enjoy doing things for people, even if they don’t always turn out quite right. I’d thought it would be fun, looking after Melia!

  I was beginning to wonder if I would have to settle for a career change. Something not to do with people. An electrician, maybe, like Dad. Or a TV celebrity chef. Or a plumber. Except I couldn’t really get very enthusiastic about sinks and pipes and stuff, and the last time I’d tried cooking anything it had all ended up in the bin and Angel had got food poisoning, or so she said. And on second thoughts I couldn’t be an electrician cos of being what Dad calls a liability. I once plugged the wrong thing into the wrong socket and all the lights went out. I was only ten at the time, but Dad still says I should have known better. Probably, on the whole, I had to admit, I was not cut out for a career in electricity.

  So what was I cut out for? If I couldn’t even look after Melia! I heaved a sigh. Why did life have to be so complicated?

  “I knew you’d be upset,” said Jem.

  “I’m not upset,” I said. Though I was, of course. “Anyway, we’ve solved the problem… I just won’t bring her!”

  “So have you checked with your mum?” Skye wanted to know, as we finished school on Friday afternoon.

  “Not yet,” I said. “But I will! Be round my place, eleven o’clock. You’ll see!”

  Mum was really good about it. I managed to get her on her own in the front room, while she
was waiting for one of her ladies.

  “It’s just this once,” I pleaded. “Cos last time, Mum, it was so embarrassing! She won’t stop touching at things. And she knocked down all these glasses, and this woman got really angry with us, and then we went into Boots and she started using make-up, and it wasn’t even testers, so we had to pay for it. We thought they’d arrest us or something!”

  “Oh, dear,” said Mum. “What a sorry tale! Never mind, she’s only here for another week.”

  “But tomorrow!” I said. “What about tomorrow?”

  “Don’t worry about tomorrow, she can stay home. I’m going to be a bit busy, but your dad’s around, and Tom. They can help out.”

  I said, “Tom?”

  “Well, your dad.”

  “He won’t let her take Rags out on her own, will he?”

  “Of course he won’t!”

  “And he’ll make sure she doesn’t open the front door and let him escape?”

  “She’s not going to open the front door.”

  I said rather darkly that you never knew what Melia was going to do. “You have to watch her all the time!”

  “We’ll watch her,” said Mum. “You go out with your friends and have fun.”

  I was so looking forward to it! It was like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was going into town with Skye and Jem and no Melia. Yay!

  And then, next morning, it all fell to pieces. It was Dad’s fault. He is such a soft touch! Sometimes you just have to harden your heart. I hadn’t enjoyed telling Melia that she couldn’t come with us. Her face had immediately gone all wobbly. Her lips had puckered and her cheeks started to quiver.

  “Not go with you?”

  “Not today,” I said. “It’s just the three of us today.” And then I shouted, “Sorry!” and rushed downstairs to play with Rags until the others arrived.

  A few minutes later, I heard Dad’s voice: “Hello! What’s up with you?”

  I went into the hall and saw Dad, sitting at the top of the stairs with his arm round Melia. Melia’s big moon face stared tragically down at me. It was swimming in tears.