“Perhaps he’s jealous of the twins,” I say.
“You just told me dogs couldn’t get depressed,” Dad says. “Is it likely they’d get jealous?”
He does have a point. Not that he needs to know that.
“Maybe you should try stroking him,” I say. “Maybe he wants some attention.”
“It’s not my dog. What’s it want attention from me for? I’m trying to watch the footie.”
I shrug. “Only a suggestion.”
Crystal’s whining increases another notch.
“Oh for goodness sake.” Dad reaches down and gives Crystal’s head a little scratch.
Crystal immediately starts to pant happily, and rolls over to have his tummy rubbed.
Dad obliges, looking a bit bemused. “Do you like that? Seems you were right, Suzy.”
“Told ya.”
“I’m only doing this to shut you up, right?” Dad tells Crystal. “Um, Suzy, while you’re here, is, er, is everything all right with your mum?” He continues scratching Crystal, but sounds oddly subdued and isn’t meeting my eye.
“Yeah, I think so, why?” I say.
“No reason. She seems to be a bit distracted lately, that’s all.”
I knew Mum was acting too weird! She’s going to give away the surprise if she keeps behaving the way she’s been doing – Dad will guess for sure. I’ll have to tell her to tone it down a bit.
“She seems fine to me,” I say, then my phone buzzes with a text from Millie.
I’ve finalE L d toilet . On R way c U s%n. X
Poor Millie, she’s really been suffering the effects of those evil jelly bears. She texted earlier that no amount of iPads in the world were worth the trauma, and is back on proper sugar. And now my friends are on their way over to meet me before we go off to Bojangles café. Bojangles is our favourite place to hang out, and we couldn’t think of anywhere better to go to figure out an idea for the party.
The fact we can stuff our faces with cake and drink the best hot chocolate while we’re there helps, too.
“Gotta go, Dad. See ya laters.”
“Hi, Suze. Finished your homework?” Mum asks as I wander into the kitchen.
I nod.
I’m lying, but Mum doesn’t need to know that. What does she think registration’s for? Catching up with homework that didn’t get done the night before, of course.
“In that case, maybe you could give me a hand getting the tea ready?” Mum says, washing some potatoes and putting them onto a chopping board.
“I’m not staying for tea,” I say. “I thought I’d eat at Bojangles, if that’s okay?”
Mum frowns. “On a school night?”
“Oh c’mon, Mum, everyone else is going,” I say. “We’re working on a project for school.”
“I don’t know. We’re still trying to save money and,” she lowers her voice to a barely audible hiss, “I’d hoped to start planning Dad’s party tonight. I’d like you there for it.”
“Yeah, about that, Dad’s getting suspicious. You need to dial it down.”
With excellent timing, Dad appears, checking his phone.
Mum puts her finger on her lips.
“Just had a text from Andy,” Dad says. “He’s cancelled tonight, so we’re not going out now.”
I look at Mum. “Does that mean I can go?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” Mum sighs, still chopping away.
“Why couldn’t Suzy go out if I was going out?” Dad asks.
“Um… I want enough hands on deck to help with the babies,” Mum lies quickly.
“Then maybe I should go out after all,” Dad says, looking panicked.
“Too late. Although…” She looks thoughtful. “Actually, isn’t there anyone else you could go out with? Any of your other friends free?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Do you want to text around and ask?”
Dad pulls a face. “It sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
Mum laughs, shrill and fake-sounding. “No, no, not at all.”
So much for dialling things down. She’s hopeless.
Dad walks over to the fridge and scans the food inside. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m thinking about starting a project in the garden,” he says, trying to sound like it’s not a big deal, but Mum’s ears prick right up.
“A project? What sort of project? Are you putting in that gazebo I asked for a couple of years ago? Or building a pond? It’d be lovely to have a water feature… although with small children around maybe it’s not such a good idea.”
“Er, no, none of those,” Dad says. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Don’t worry,” Dad says, as he clocks Mum’s face. “It’s fine. Not a big deal at all. Just a little treat to myself. An early birthday present, if you like.”
Mum frowns. “But why won’t you tell me what it is?”
“Because you’ll stop me doing it,” Dad says. There’s clearly nothing in the fridge that takes his fancy, because he shuts it again.
“I –” Mum starts to protest, but Dad’s not listening. He’s staring at the collage of photographs stuck to the door, and at one snap in particular, of him and Mum on a boat. I took it when we were on holiday in Scotland, about five years ago.
“I’ve aged so much,” he mutters, pulling away the picture. “Look at me,” he says, thrusting the photo into Mum’s face. “Look! No grey hairs. No belly. It wasn’t even that long ago. Andy’s not going grey and he’s still got a flat stomach. Do you think he’s more attractive than me?”
“Andy’s a good-looking man,” Mum replies, pushing the photo away. She’s engrossed in the spuds and I suspect she isn’t really listening.
“I knew it! I knew you thought he was better looking than I am. You should have let me dye my hair.”
“What?” Mum drops the knife and turns round. “What are you talking about?”
“You. And Andy.”
“I’m confused,” Mum says, absolutely baffled. “What about me and Andy?”
There’s a knock at the door, and I rush to answer it. My mates have arrived quicker than I thought they would, and thank goodness for that. The parentals’ conversation is getting all kinds of awkward.
But when I open the door, it’s Mrs Green, our neighbour. She seems very upset, and is tightly holding her cat, Pickles, who looks very wet and exceptionally cross.
“Oh, Suzy, thank goodness you’re home. Are your parents in? One of my pipes is leaking and there’s water everywhere. Look at Pickles, he’s got into a terrible state, poor thing, he’s ever so distressed…”
“Come in,” I say, holding open the door. “Mum, Dad! Mrs Green’s here!”
I head back into the kitchen as Mrs Green starts to explain her trauma. A moment later, Mum calls from the hall, “We’re popping next door, Suzy. Won’t be long!”
“So can I go to Bojangles?” I call back.
“What? Oh, yes, okay, I suppose so,” Mum says. “But don’t be late back. You’ve got school in the morning.”
“Fab. Thanks, Mum. See you later.”
I mooch into the lounge, and turn on the TV. Might as well watch something while I wait for my friends. I hear Amber and Mark clatter down the stairs. Chichi has been crying for hours this evening, and is busy howling in Amber’s arms.
“At least one of them’s asleep,” Mark says, glancing down at where Uni is slumbering on his chest.
“This one’s a proper pickle, aren’t you, Chichiboo?” Amber says, tickling her daughter under the chin. Chichi screams louder.
“Aw, it’ll be so much easier once you can tell Mummy what’s wrong, won’t it, babyboop?” Amber says. “Where’s Mum?” she asks me.
“She popped next door.”
Amber crinkles her nose. “But I need her! She’s the only one Chichi settles for.”
“She probably won’t be long. Mrs Green sprung a leak and needs her cat drying off, or something.”
“But I need her now
,” Amber says. The next thing I know, she’s thrusting a baby into my arms. “Here, take her for a bit, would you? I need to go to the toilet.”
“Erm, okay,” I say. I still get a bit freaked out around the babies. They’re just so small, with their heads wobbling around all over the place. Chichi’s large, teary eyes blink while her cries get louder. The girls remind me a bit of baby monkeys, not that I’d ever say so to Amber. She’d go nuts, big-time.
“Actually, a toilet break sounds good,” Mark says. “Can you keep an eye on Uni, too? I’ll lie her down here. She’ll be fine, she’s fast asleep.”
As Mark and Amber dash from the room at the speed of Olympic sprinters, Chichi ups the volume of her screaming. Uni jumps at the increased volume of her sister’s voice, wakes up, finds herself on the floor, then begins to bawl too.
Aaaah! Now what am I supposed to do?
“Please stop crying,” I say to Chichi, jiggling her up and down and trying to stroke Uni with my toe. She’s clearly way unimpressed, and starts to shriek even louder.
Good grief, these girls are loud, considering how small they are. Nothing wrong with their lungs, that’s for sure.
“Suzy? Your friends are here,” Harry shouts. I turn to see Millie, Jamie and Danny standing in the doorway, Harry hovering behind them, videoing. The babies have been so deafening I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.
“Harry! Come and take one of the girls,” I say. “I need to go out.”
“Hah! No chance,” Harry says, darting away.
“Where are Amber and Mark?” Jamie asks.
“Toilet,” I shout. “Someone help, would you?”
My friends all look at each other.
“I’m not doing it,” Jamie says, making a face.
“You know I can’t hold babies,” Danny says. “I’ve got no idea what to do.”
“Oh for goodness sake, you two,” Millie says, striding over. “It’s easy. Which one’s this?”
“Uni,” I say.
As she takes Uni, Millie sniffs and a look of disgust crosses her face. “I can smell something… oh, gross.”
There’s a brown stain on the carpet underneath where Uni has been lying. And the back of her babygro is all brown too.
“Urrrrggghhhh!” we all chorus in horror. Millie holds Uni out in front of her at a distance, like she’s a bomb. Which I suppose she is. A poo bomb.
“I’m sorry but I’m not sorting that out,” Millie says. “There are limits. Cuddling babies is one thing but sorting out stinky nappies? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you can take off the babygro? That might be why she’s crying.”
“Nuh-uh,” Millie says. “Here, pass Chichi over and you can sort out this one.”
We swap babies and I lie Uni back down on the floor. Amber usually uses a mat, but I don’t know where it is. The carpet’s already covered in poo, a bit more won’t hurt, will it? I peel off the babygro, doing my best not to gag.
This is disgusting. And it’s going to be a seriously long time before I ever eat korma again. Where’s my flipping sister? Or my parents? They should be sorting this out, not me!
“It’s a good job I love you,” I mutter to the baby, who doesn’t hear a word I’ve said, she’s crying so loud. Argh, this bawling’s so stressful! Does that mean there’s something seriously wrong? What if something happens to her while I’m in charge? That would be awful. My poor niece looks so miserable.
“Please stop crying, please stop crying,” I beg, as I do my best to remove the clothes without getting covered in poo myself. It’s easier said than done, because the poo is everywhere. Up Uni’s back, all down her legs… don’t even get me started on how hard it is to get a dirty vest over a baby’s head without smearing poop all over their face. No wonder Uni’s so cross.
“It stinks worse than one of yours, mate,” Jamie says, punching Danny on the arm.
“Ha ha,” Danny says.
“Now what do I do?” I say. I’ve got a naked poo-covered baby lying on the floor, screaming her head off. And her parents are nowhere to be found.
“I’m sure Amber and Mark won’t be long,” I say, admitting defeat. “They’ll sort them out in a minute.”
So we wait. And we wait. But they don’t come back. And still the babies are crying.
“Surely there’s only so long you can spend in the loo?” Millie asks. “My arms are getting tired…”
“That’s it. I’m going to find out what’s going on,” I say, pushing myself up from my hands and knees.
The downstairs toilet door is open. No sign of Mark. Upstairs, the bathroom’s empty too. Where’ve they gone?
“Ambs?” I call. I knock on her closed bedroom door. There’s no answer. I knock again… then turn the handle.
My sister and her husband are comatose on the bed, sprawled like starfish and snoring their heads off.
Now what?
Downstairs I hear Mum and Dad’s voices by the back door. Thank goodness. They’re back. I sprint down and grab my friends, stopping only to help Millie lie Chichi next to her sister on the floor. On the way out I stick my head into the kitchen.
“The babies are in the lounge,” I say, brightly. “They might need changing. We’re going out, okay? See you later. Go, go,” I mutter, shoving at Danny’s back and hurrying my friends outside.
No way do I want my parents discovering the poo-stained carpet and nappy-less, naked baby before I’m well out of the way.
CHAPTER FIVE
Compared to the screamy, poo-filled nightmare that is currently my house, Bojangles café is a peaceful haven of tranquillity. It had a bit of revamp in the summer holidays after a burst pipe flooded everywhere, and it’s looking great in here, with new tables, settees and chairs, different-coloured paints on the walls, and fairy lights that twinkle invitingly. Danny and Jamie actually helped with the decorating, and despite never having done it before, I think they did a pretty amazing job.
I sink into our favourite squishy sofa by the window and sigh happily.
“Hi, guys,” calls Hannah, the café owner, from the counter. “We’re a bit short-staffed today, so come up with your order when you’re ready, okay?”
“Okay,” Danny calls, shooting her a broad smile.
Hannah’s got a real soft spot for Danny and Jamie since they helped her out with all the renovation stuff. She didn’t have to close for as long as she thought she’d have to, which saved her a ton of money.
“So. The fundraiser. Let’s make a list of ideas,” Millie says. “I brought my notebook along. Let’s write down everything we’ve come up with so far. Even the rubbish ideas.”
“Make sure Star Wars is on that list,” Danny says. “Which was not a rubbish idea, no matter what you lot say. And it’s one of the best we’ve come up with, you have to admit. None of you have suggested anything even half as good.”
“It would go down really well at a Star Wars convention,” I say, trying to be as kind as possible. “I just don’t think there are enough Star Wars fans at school to make it work.”
“But this could get people into the movies,” Danny pleads. “I’ve been thinking about it, and we could have a cinema room, showing the films…”
“I’m really not sure, mate,” Jamie says.
“Other ideas I’ve got include the raffle and, er, that’s it,” Millie says.
Danny leans back in his chair and crosses his arms smugly, with a told-you-so look on his face.
“We could have a talent show,” I suggest. Then I remember the talent show that we were forced to enter while we were camping, back in the summer. Dad ended up playing trombone wearing nothing but tiny gold hot-pants. It was a fortnight before I stopped seeing that particular image every time I closed my eyes. Shuddersome.
Millie writes it down.
“Maybe a sports event? Like a school Olympics or something?” Jamie suggests.
“Not everyone loves sport as much as you do,” Millie points out, although she notes it on her list.
“You’re not going to convince the couch potatoes to participate, or even vote for that.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” Jamie says. “Let’s face it, none of these ideas are strong enough. None of them are going to raise enough money.”
“We need to come up with something really original, something that hasn’t been done a million times already, and that will appeal to the largest possible group of people,” I say.
“You’re right,” Millie replies. “But what?”
Cue more blank faces.
Gnargh. Why is this so flipping difficult?
“Do you think Jade and Kara have really come up with an amazing idea?” I wonder.
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Millie says gloomily.
“Let’s order some food,” Jamie says after we’ve sat in silence for a while. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
We scan the menu, check out the specials, then settle on what we always have – pizza.
“This really shouldn’t be so hard,” Millie says, when Jamie returns from placing our order.
“Okay. Let’s think about this properly. It needs to be something spectacular. Something that people will spend money to come to, otherwise we’re onto a complete non-starter,” Danny says.
“What do people like?” I ask. “Let’s start with that and see if that sparks anything. What do the people we know spend their money on?”
“Apps and video games, films, clothes, music, concerts, books, magazines, gadgets…” Danny reels off.
“Sports events, trainers,” Jamie adds.
“Bags and jewellery?” Millie offers. She’s frantically writing all this down.
“Food should be on there as well. We should’ve thought of that one first, given where we are,” Jamie adds. “I hope Hannah hurries up – I’m starving.”
“Anything else?” Millie asks.
“What about what people our age like to do?” I ask. “We should make a list of those things too, then hopefully we’ll have enough to start getting some ideas.”
“Cinema, watching movies at home, playing and watching sports – just because you lot aren’t fussed, some people enjoy them,” Jamie says when he sees the look I shoot him.
“Hanging out in cafés, going shopping,” Millie writes.
Suzy P, Forever Me Page 4