Suzy P, Forever Me

by Karen Saunders

  “Eating,” Jamie adds.

  “It always comes back to food with you, doesn’t it?” Millie says.

  “What? I’m hungry!”

  “That’s enough for now, I guess,” Millie says, sitting back to look at the enormous list of frantic scribbles on the paper in front of her.

  “Food’s ready,” Hannah says. None of us noticed her coming; we’ve all been too busy staring at Millie’s notebook, hoping to get some inspiration.

  “Ooh yum, thanks,” I say, as the plates of pizza land in front of us. “I think Jamie’s about ready to eat your table.”

  “How about I offer you some free cakes and you leave my table alone?” Hannah says, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve got some that’ll have gone off by the end of the day, would you like them?” She knows there’s not a chance we’ll say no.

  “Yes, please!” we all chorus.

  “You’re the best,” Jamie says through a mouthful of pizza, as Hannah returns with our selection of cakes and puts the plate in the middle of the table.

  “Don’t tell any of my other customers, or they’ll all be wanting free pudding too,” Hannah says.

  Jamie scoops up a huge amount of lemon icing and pops it into his mouth. Cake and pizza together. The boy really is a human dustbin.

  “What are you guys up to?” Hannah asks, peering over Millie’s shoulder to try and see what she’s written. “A school project or something?”

  “Kind of,” Danny says. “We’re trying to come up with ideas.”

  “Ideas?”

  “There’s a fundraising party happening at school,” Jamie explains. “The students get to choose what kind of party it gets to be, but it obviously needs to raise money. A lot of money.”

  “What are you fundraising for?”

  “A new recording studio,” I tell her.

  Hannah’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing. What a fantastic thing to have at your school.”

  “We really want to come up with the best idea,” Millie explains. “Then we get to organise it all. Plus it means these totally vile girls in our year, who think they’re going to get to plan the party, don’t get to boss everyone around.”

  Hannah looks thoughtful. “Well, as it’s a recording studio you’re raising money for, why not do something musical?”

  We all look at each other. That sounds good and everyone likes music…

  “Have you ever heard of the programme Stars in Their Eyes?” Hannah continues. “It used to be on TV when I was a kid. People went on and dressed up as their favourite band or singer, then performed one of their songs. You could do something like that.”

  “That’s a really good idea,” I say. “We could mix it up with what they do on the X Factor, and have judges, buzzers, that kind of thing.”

  “Ooh, yeah!” Millie says. “And we could call it ‘The Star Factor’!”

  “Wouldn’t it be like glorified karaoke?” Danny asks.

  “Kind of,” Hannah says. “But it’s actually a lot more fun than that.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “If we had a load of costumes, wigs and make-up, and people were dressing up as the musicians they were pretending to be, it would be hilarious.”

  “And there could be lots of things to help boost the profits,” adds Millie. “As well as the raffle, people could also bid money to be a judge, and the highest amount offered would win. Plus we’d have to sell tickets for people to come, of course, which would raise even more money…” I can tell she’s really excited.

  “Actually, that all sounds pretty great,” Jamie says. “We could make a ton of cash.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go and serve that customer,” Hannah says, seeing someone waiting over by the counter. “Let me know how you get on.”

  “Thanks, Hannah!” we call after her.

  “This could work, you know,” Millie says.

  “It really could,” I say, starting to feel excited. “This is an idea that could blow anything Jade and Kara have come up with out of the water.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I can hardly keep my eyes open at school. In fact, I actually do fall asleep in history, and only wake up at the end of the lesson. I’m pretty sure the teacher hadn’t noticed until I jumped so hard when the bell went that I nearly fell off my chair.

  Awkward.

  Fortunately I managed to escape from the classroom before anything was said.

  It’s not even like it’s my fault I’m so tired. It’s not as if I was out late or anything, oh no. It was Chichi. She was up pretty much every hour, screaming her head off. And as Amber’s bedroom is next to mine, I woke up every time she did.

  She’s proper loud.

  I read somewhere that a crying baby is noisier than a pneumatic drill. Chichi’s certainly doing her best to try and prove that theory.

  Mum and Dad were up too, trying to stop the baby yelling – Amber’s still convinced that Chichi settles best for Mum – but nothing was doing the trick. Eventually Mum convinced Dad to take Chichi for a drive until she went to sleep.

  That was at 4 a.m.

  He didn’t get back until 5.30 a.m. Chichi was sleeping soundly by this point, but for the rest of us it really wasn’t that long until it was time to get up.

  Breakfast this morning was interesting. I’ve never seen everyone so grumpy. Mum practically threw a piece of toast at Harry’s head and Dad was getting very aggressive with his spoon. Both of them were hardly speaking to me. I’ve not exactly been their favourite daughter since they discovered the half-naked pooey twins abandoned on the lounge floor, and lack of sleep hasn’t helped their mood any.

  It’s a huge relief when school’s done and I can finally go home. I want something to eat and then I’m going to go and lie on my bed and ponder what I can fashion earplugs from. I mean, I love my nieces, I really do. But they’re so flipping loud.

  For once, I’m greeted with silence when I arrive home. Which is unusual. With so many of us living here now, that never happens.

  I head upstairs. Out of my window, which overlooks the back garden, I can see Dad’s left work early and is outside, working on his secret project. There’s a cement square covering what used to be the vegetable patch. Mum had this idea that we’d grow all of our vegetables and save money by living off the land, but the birds and slugs ate half of the seedlings, then Mrs Green’s cat adopted it as a litter tray, so Mum admitted defeat.

  I collapse down onto my bed for a while then wander downstairs to see what’s going on. Mum’s back from work, and dumps her handbag and keys on the side before yawning widely.

  “Gosh, I’m tired,” she says. “How did you get on today? Manage to stay awake?”

  “Had a quick power nap in history, but the teacher didn’t notice,” I say.

  Mum nods wearily. “I don’t know what we’re going to have for tea tonight. I haven’t got the energy to cook. Maybe beans on toast. That’s nice and easy.”

  I shrug. I don’t really care. I think I’ve got to the point where I’m so tired I don’t want to eat. And I never thought that would happen.

  The back door slams and in comes Dad.

  “Hiya, Jen,” he says, coming over to give Mum a kiss hello.

  I pull a face. Gagfest. Who wants to see their parents snogging? Can’t they be more respectful when their kids are around? They should shake hands or something if they want to greet each other. That would be way more appropriate.

  “What are you doing back already?” Mum asks.

  “Couldn’t concentrate,” Dad says. “I was too tired. So I came back and I’ve been doing some work in the garden.” He glances over at me. “Suzy, could you give me and your mum a minute, please? We need a chat.”

  “Sure,” I say. But once I’m out of sight, I loiter in the hall so I can hear what they’re talking about. I don’t want to miss anything interesting.

  There’s a pause, where presumably they’re waiting for me to get upstairs, then Dad starts speaking.

  “Jen, we can’t g
o on like this. It’s ridiculous.”

  “I know,” Mum sighs. “But I don’t know what to suggest.”

  “We need to do something,” Dad says. “There are too many of us being disturbed at night. You and I have jobs to do – I could scarcely function all day. And the babies are waking up Suzy and Harry. Harry’s teacher apparently found her asleep on a bench at lunchtime after she didn’t go back in to her lessons. She didn’t even want to come out and help me, she just went straight to her room she was so tired. You don’t know how much I’m starting to wish we’d kept that caravan instead of lending it to Neil. I could have slept in there.”

  Mum sighs. “I know it’s hard. But what are we supposed to do? New babies are difficult, and Amber needs us. Maybe we should be doing more to help out…”

  “More!” Dad snorts. “We do far too much already. I notice Amber left and went to sleep on the sofa during the worst of the crying. I saw her there when I took Chichi out for that drive.”

  “Would you really want Amber driving the girls around?” Mum asks. Amber’s driving skills are notorious. And not in a good way.

  Dad rolls his eyes, but agrees. “I suppose not. None of them would come back in one piece.”

  “And we can’t kick them out on the street. You know they’re saving up for their house deposit, but babies are expensive.”

  “I know, I know,” Dad sighs, giving a heavy yawn. “But I need some proper sleep. I’m too old for all this…”

  “You’re not old,” Mum interjects.

  “I feel old. Especially with all this getting-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night malarkey. I thought that was well behind me. And this house isn’t big enough for all of us. There’s nowhere for anyone to escape. There’s not even room for me to put my cup of tea down on the side because of that enormous bottle steriliser. And I’ve got bruises all down my leg because I bash myself on their pram every time I come through the front door.”

  “But you love spending time with the babies,” Mum protests.

  Dad grunts. He’d never admit that in a million years. “Small amounts of time,” he concedes. “Not all of my time. I also love sleep. And non-bruised limbs.”

  “So what do you suggest we do about it?” Mum asks.

  “I don’t know,” Dad says. I hear someone shut a cupboard door and footsteps across the floor. I duck back in case anyone’s coming out; I don’t want to get busted. But then I hear a chair being scraped across the floor, and guess Dad’s sat down.

  “I’ll talk to them both at dinner tonight,” Dad says. “They can’t have failed to notice this isn’t really working for any of us.”

  “This is Amber and Mark we’re talking about here.”

  “Good point,” Dad says. “But even they can’t be that away with the fairies, can they?”

  Mum doesn’t answer.

  Later that evening we’re all sitting round the table, eating chicken casserole. Harry’s picking the green beans out of hers and whenever Mum and Dad aren’t looking she’s pretending to stick them up her nose so they look like bogeys (grossness overload), while I’m waiting with interest to see how this is going to go. Amber’s blathering on about what she and the girls have been up to all day. Sleeping, mainly. Because it seems that while Chichi objects to sleeping at night like a normal person, she wholeheartedly embraces napping during daylight hours.

  She’s clearly as tricksy as her Aunty Harry.

  “I seriously need to catch up on my beauty sleep,” Amber’s saying, not realising that actually, she’s not the only one. “I’m so tired these days. Nobody told me babies would be so exhausting. I thought it’d be like having a doll to look after, but it’s really not, is it?” She pops a sweet into her mouth.

  Amber’s not eating the same as the rest of us. She’s currently on the red foods diet. This means she can eat whatever she likes as long as it’s red, so my sister is sitting at the table with huge bowls of strawberry jelly and red Skittles in front of her. I’m not quite sure that’s how the diet is supposed to work, but there’s no telling her.

  “I was a bit worried about one of the poos Uni did today,” Amber says. “It was really weird, like mustard with bits of green in and this kind of stringy gunk I’ve never seen before. Do you think she needs to go to the doctor’s?”

  Gagarama.

  Amber doesn’t notice the rest of us look down at our plates and put down our cutlery. Nobody fancies chicken casserole any more.

  “It’s perfectly normal,” Mum says reassuringly.

  “Really?” Amber says. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll speak to the health visitor about it in the morning.”

  “If that would make you feel better, love,” Mum says.

  Amber turns to Mark. “Ooh, Markymoo, did you see the new outfits that arrived today? Aren’t they the cutest?”

  “Super cute,” Mark agrees.

  Since the babies were born, Amber’s been buying new outfits online on a pretty much daily basis. And we’re not talking cheap supermarket baby clothes here, either. Her packages arrive wrapped up in tissue paper, tied with pretty ribbons. Properly expensive.

  Dad clears his throat. “I –”

  “I saw these adorable pink shoes with ribbons on the front on one of the websites today, what do you think?” Amber asks Mark.

  “But they’re only a few months old!” Dad says. “They’re not walking yet. In fact it’s doubtful they even know they have feet. What do they need shoes for?”

  “Silly Daddy,” Amber laughs. “Of course they need shoes. They’re not properly dressed without them.”

  “Do they really care?” Dad asks, genuinely baffled. “They spend most of their life pooing or puking on themselves.”

  Amber laughs harder. “You’re funny.”

  Dad shakes his head in bewilderment. “Anyway. I wanted to ask you both something. I was, um, wondering, how’s the saving for a house deposit going?”

  Mark, who’s jiggling Chichi in a bouncer with his foot while he eats, shakes his head and smiles apologetically.

  “Not that great, I’m afraid, Chris. All our house deposit money is being ploughed into buying nappies and stuff for these two.”

  I suspect Dad already knew what their answer was going to be, but there’s no mistaking the expression on his face.

  “Do you want us to move out?” Mark says.

  “Don’t be daft, Markymoo, Mum and Dad love having us around, don’t you?” Amber says.

  “Well –” Dad begins, but Mum leaps in.

  “No, no, of course we don’t want you to move out. Stay as long as you need,” she says, glowering at Dad.

  “We know this isn’t ideal, and we’re really grateful to you for letting us stay here, and for all the help you’re giving us,” Mark says. “Last night was awful.”

  “For all of us,” Dad emphasises.

  “We really appreciate you doing all that you are,” Mark says. “We love our girls, and hope they’ll start sleeping soon. We’re finding it tough, all of us in one room, aren’t we, Ambypamby?”

  “Four in that room is a lot,” Mum says.

  “It’s actually five if you count Crystal Fairybelle,” Amber says. “Not that he’s been in there for the past few nights. I don’t know where he’s sleeping at the moment.”

  “Down my side of the bed,” Dad mutters darkly. “I nearly trod on him this morning.”

  “You’re so lucky, having a room all to yourself,” Amber says enviously, looking at me.

  “I loved sharing a room with my brother when I was younger. Maybe Harry could move into Suzy’s room and the twins could go into Harry’s?” Mark suggests. “That would give us all some more space.”

  Er, no it flipping wouldn’t!

  Amber gasps and claps her hands. “That’s perfect! Markymoo, what a great idea! And it would be so nice for you two. What do you think?” she says to us.

  Harry and I are horrified. I can’t think of anything worse than having to share a room with my sister. She’d have every
opportunity to do all sorts of evil things to me while I was sleeping, and I’d be only metres away from her rat.

  No. Freaking. Way.

  I adore my nieces, but this is happening over my dead body. I’d rather sleep in the garden.

  “Mum,” I say pointedly, but Mum’s looking thoughtful.

  “You know, girls, that could work,” she says.

  “No!” Harry says in alarm. She seems as freaked out as me by the whole idea.

  “Come on, you two,” Amber says excitedly. “It would solve all our problems.”

  “Solve all your problems, but give me a whole heap of new ones,” I say.

  “Suzy snores,” Harry says. “No way am I sleeping in a room with her. I’ll run away!”

  “It’s all right, girls,” Dad says. “Look, it’s not fair to ask these two to give up their space, I’m sorry.”

  Wow. Dad’s actually talking sense for once.

  “We’ll have to come up with another solution,” Dad says, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms.

  Unfortunately, nobody’s got any suggestions.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At school, all of the tutor groups have had a notice saying that if anybody wants to pitch an idea for the fundraising party, they need to meet at break with Mr Groves who’ll talk us through what we need to know.

  Millie’s herded me, Danny and Jamie towards the arts block, and now we’re gathered in one of the English classrooms, waiting for Mr Groves. Jade and Kara strut in after us. We’re on opposite sides of the room so I’m studiously avoiding all eye contact with them when… oh God, Zach’s walked in.

  At the beginning of this year, things weren’t going too great with Danny and me, and we split up for a while. I started seeing Zach, but it turned out he was only going out with me for a bet. No prizes for working out Jade and Kara were involved. Major ouch. Along with the whole appearing-half-naked-in-front-of-the-school disaster, it’s one of the most upsetting and humiliating things that’s ever happened to me.

  Zach’s still as gorgeous as ever, but his good looks don’t do anything to help make up for his dirtbag personality. I avoid him wherever possible, but every now and then I bump into him and it’s like I can’t breathe and want to disappear all at once.