Suzy P, Forever Me

by Karen Saunders

  “Is it about your dad’s party?” Mum says. “I’m so excited, it’s going to be great! But there’s still so much to do: we need to sort out accommodation for people who want to stay over, put together a list of places they can stay, and I’m still waiting to hear back from the musicians – honestly, these people have no sense of urgency. And then there’s the cake: we really need to decide what kind of design we want, and what flavour it should be and, of course, how many tiers. I’ve got a list of jobs for you to do; Harry’s useless, and Amber’s too busy.”

  “Great,” I say weakly. “But I didn’t want to ask you about the party. I, um, was wondering if I could go to London for the day with Millie?”

  “London?” Mum frowns. “Why do you want to go to London?”

  “To go and see The Drifting,” I say. “They’re doing this radio interview and Millie and I want to be there. Please, Mum? Please? Pretty please?”

  “They’re going to let you on the radio?”

  “No!” I say in exasperation. “But we can wait outside.”

  Mum smiles. “I remember I did that for Duran Duran once. It was one of the best moments of my life, and I only saw the top of John Taylor’s quiff.”

  “So I can go?”

  “How are you planning on getting there?”

  “Um, train I think…”

  Mum shakes her head. “I’m not happy about you getting the train by yourself all that way.”

  “Okay. If we find some other way of getting there, can I go?”

  “We’ll see,” Mum says.

  Aaargh! That’s nearly a yes!

  I bash out a text to Millie.

  Mum says I cn cum 2 LDN bt can’t go on d

  train. Excitement!!!!

  A reply comes back instantly.

  Amazes!! I’ll ask Mum f she cn driV us.

  Jamie, dan + me havN a mvie nyt 2nt. Scary

  films. U in?

  I read the text and shudder. As much as I don’t want to be stuck at home on Halloween, I really, really don’t want to be stuck in a cinema that’s showing terrifying movies. Besides, Dad banned me from watching them ever again because he got fed up of me waking him up in the middle of the night to check there wasn’t a crazed axe-murderer lurking behind the bathroom door.

  Typical, though, the one night my boyfriend can be persuaded to watch something other than Star Wars, and it’s films I hate.

  As there’s no way I’m going to be joining my mates tonight, I guess that means a night on the sofa. I could do my maths homework, of course, but who am I kidding? At least I won’t have to fight Harry for the TV, she’s usually off out trick-or-treating with Dad on Halloween.

  Blimey, if Mum goes with them I might even have the whole house all to myself. That hasn’t happened for yonks. It’s still weird without Amber and Mark and the twins living here. Quiet. Although that’s partly because Dad’s not shouting so much any more that he’s trodden in a dirty nappy, or tripped over a teddy bear.

  I immediately start plotting what I’m going to do with my night in.

  First, I’m going to cook that pizza Dad hid at the bottom of the freezer. Unlucky, Dad, you can’t fool me. Especially when you’ve hidden it underneath the chocices I’ve disguised in a box of reduced-sugar healthy-living orange lollies.

  Mwah-ha-ha-ha.

  So. Stolen pizza and TV… I seriously miss our Netflix subscription. It got culled in the money-saving panic following Amber’s wedding and hasn’t yet been reinstated. Still, Amber’s left loads of her DVDs behind in the cupboard, so maybe I’ll find something good there. Something feel-good and funny, without a vampire or zombie in sight. Something that won’t give me bad dreams for the next month. I’ll have to remember to turn the lights off so the trick-or-treaters don’t keep bothering me…

  Yeah, I know, I’m a spoilsport. But it’s a night to myself! Perhaps I’ll leave the tub of sweets outside, then they can help themselves.

  After my TV marathon, maybe I’ll take a bath; Mum’s got some lush new bath oil that she snuck into the house and thinks I haven’t seen.

  And then I can curl up in my PJs and read my new magazine.

  Oooh, it sounds like heaven. Relaxing has not been on the cards much of late.

  I head down to the kitchen to see what time people are going out. I arrive at the same time as Dad, who comes through the back door, letting in a huge gust of cold air. He has been in the shed, I was right. Crystal’s trotting at his heels.

  “Did you fancy going out one night later this week?” Dad’s asking Mum. “I was reading about this great new film, looks hilarious…”

  “Hmm?” Mum’s bum is sticking out of the freezer. She’d better not be going near that pizza.

  “Well, Jen?” Dad says.

  “What? Oh, um, not this week, sorry. Harry might go with you, is there something you could see with her?”

  Dad pulls a chair up to the table, and sits down with a harrumph. “I don’t want to see a kids’ film. Besides, Harry’s always off Skyping that Ant, and now you’re turning me down too. Nobody’s got time for me any more.”

  He actually looks proper dejected for a few seconds before he starts flipping through What Car? magazine.

  “This convertible looks fantastic,” he muses, disappointment clearly forgotten.

  “You’re not getting a two-seater,” Mum says, removing herself from the freezer and closing the door firmly.

  “You haven’t even seen it yet. It’s got four seats,” Dad protests.

  “I don’t need to see it. Whatever it is, you’re not getting one,” Mum says.

  “What time are you taking Harry out?” I ask, grabbing a box of popcorn from the cupboard and throwing a packet into the microwave.

  Mum straightens up. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  I narrow my eyes suspiciously.

  “I was hoping you’d take Harry trick-or-treating.”

  “What? Why?” I say, my heart sinking. Slowly the dreams of my quiet, relaxing night in are starting to evaporate.

  There’s a ring on the doorbell. “Wait here,” Mum says, grabbing a huge tub of sweets from the side. I reach out to grab one as she passes, but she bats my hand away.

  “Trick or treat!” comes the chorus from outside.

  “Why do I have to take Harry?” I ask, when Mum returns.

  “Amber called about ten minutes ago,” Mum says. “She sounds frantic, Chichi and Uni haven’t stopped crying all day and she and Mark were wondering if I could go over and cook them tea while they’re walking the babies around, so they can actually get something to eat. I thought there was some leftover stew in the freezer, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

  Dad’s magazine shoots up to hide his face. Ah. He ate the stew then.

  “Anyway, Dad and I are heading over, we’ll have to pick something up from the supermarket for them on the way.”

  “Dad could take Harry instead,” I say.

  Dad perks up at the thought of an excuse to escape two screaming babies. “I’d be happy to.”

  “No way,” Mum says firmly to him. “We need all hands on deck. Suzy can take her. Harry really wants to go tonight and I don’t want her to be disappointed. She was really upset when I told her it might not be happening.”

  “But, Muuuuum…” I complain through a mouthful of popcorn. “That’s so unfair. And I’ve got so much to do, you know with everything I’ve got on…” I look at her meaningfully.

  “You’ve been working very hard, give yourself a night off,” Mum says. And I can tell she genuinely thinks she’s being kind. When actually the thought of escorting my sister around the neighbourhood to get wired on sugar and additives sounds like hell on earth.

  “I was going to give myself the night off with a movie,” I say.

  “Trick-or-treating won’t take long, you’ll still have time for your film when you get back,” Mum says, as Harry walks in. “Harry, you can go out tonight after all.”

  “I can?” Harry says, do
ing a little hop of excitement. “Am I going with Dad?”

  “No, Suzy’s taking you,” Mum says.

  Harry wrinkles up her nose. “Oh.”

  “Look, I don’t want to go either,” I tell her.

  “I know you’ll have fun once you’re out,” says my deluded mother. “You’ll both have a great time.”

  “Okay,” Harry says, clearly realising that trick-ortreating with me is better than no trick-or-treating at all. “I’ll go and get changed. What are you going as, Suzy?”

  “I haven’t got a costume,” I say.

  “You need to dress up,” Harry says, turning round. “I’m not going if you’re not in fancy-dress.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s decided, we’re staying here,” I say. “If anyone wants me I’ll be hanging out on the sofa, watching my film.”

  “Nooooooo!” Harry says. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to dress up. Please come with me, please!”

  “Do you know, I think I’ve got something you could wear,” Mum says thoughtfully. “Wait there a minute, I’ll be back in a tick.”

  She returns a few moments later with a plastic packet tucked under her arm, smiling triumphantly. “Here you go. Now you can properly enter the spirit of things!”

  Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

  It’s a werewolf costume.

  A werewolf.

  And the picture seems to suggest there’s a furry hood, complete with ears, two gloves with huge claws, a tail and what appears to be a hairy chest wig.

  Is she seriously expecting me to go out dressed in that? I mean, really? Surely not even my mother’s that insane? But look at how she’s smiling at me, all proud and happy that she’s found me something to wear.

  “Why do you even have this?” I ask, stalling for time.

  “Oh, I’ve had it for ages,” Mum says, pulling it out of the plastic and shaking it. A load of hair falls to the floor.

  Brilliant. Not only am I destined to be a werewolf, I’m a werewolf with mange.

  “I got it for your father to wear to a fancy-dress party before Harry was born,” Mum says. “He refused to put it on. If I recall, he went as a hotdog instead.”

  “Yeah, because that’s less embarrassing,” I mutter.

  “Try it on,” Harry says. “I can’t wait to see what you look like.”

  “C’mon, Suze, it’s Halloween,” Mum says, as she sees me hesitating. “It’s dark outside and it’s not like you’ll see anyone you know.”

  I shake my head. How do I allow myself get roped into these things? I pull the chest wig over my head and fasten on the hood, before slipping on the gloves.

  Mum and Harry crack up. As I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I start to laugh, too. I look utterly ridiculous.

  “Arooooooooooooooooooo!” I howl, throwing back my head.

  “Do it again!” Harry begs.

  “Aroooooooooooooooooo!”

  And then I see Harry’s filming.

  “Harry! Turn that off!”

  “But you look so funny,” Harry giggles.

  Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound. And on the plus side, the hood hides my crazy hair. “Will you help me with my tail, please, Mum?”

  There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

  As Mum fusses way closer to my butt than I’m entirely comfortable with, I still can’t quite believe I’m doing this. But it’s Halloween. And nobody will ever know. If I’m going to have to do this, I might as well have a laugh in the process.

  “Growl for me,” Harry says, still practically falling over with laughter.

  “Harry, you’ve not stopped filming. Turn it off or I’m not taking you,” I say. I may be trying to embrace the whole werewolf thing, but there are limits.

  “Growl!”

  “Grrr,” I say, waving my claws around. “Now turn that off.” Harry leaves the kitchen just as Mum’s advancing towards me with Harry’s face paints.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?” I say.

  “You need some make-up. A nose, and maybe something on your eyebrows.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, can’t we just go?”

  “Just the nose then,” Mum says.

  Before I can duck out of the way she thrusts a brush at my face.

  “Aaargh!”

  I don’t dare twist away through fear of having brown streaks all over my face and ending up looking like a mangy werewolf that’s been rolling in poo, or something.

  “Keep still, I’m not going to be long,” Mum says.

  Next time I look in the mirror, I’ve been given a dark brown nose, with a line leading down to my upper lip, and my eyebrows have expanded significantly.

  What do I look like? I seriously can’t believe I’m going out in public dressed like this. But I suppose at least nobody will recognise me. I hardly recognise me.

  Harry walks into the room dressed as Draco Malfoy. Her hair is slicked back, and she’s all in black, with a cape swishing out behind her. She’s even fashioned a broomstick out of a cane she’s nicked from Great Aunt Loon (it’s got a ‘Property of Meadow Park Nursing Home DO NOT REMOVE’ sticker on it).

  “Now, don’t let Harry eat too many sweets,” Mum says, as she ushers us towards the door. “You know she gets hyper if she’s had too much sugar. Here’s your treat bag, off you go.”

  “Can I take some eggs? Or flour?” Harry asks.

  “Absolutely not,” Mum says.

  “Toilet roll?”

  “No!” Mum says. “You’re not vandalising people’s houses.”

  I swish my tail around by way of goodbye.

  I’d actually forgotten how much fun trick-or-treating was, although you’d never hear me say so out loud. There are groups of small kids walking the streets with their parents, all looking super cute in their costumes; I’ve lost count of the number of little girl ballerinas and fairies and boy bats and pumpkins we see being herded along. Harry’s got a pretty good haul of sweets so far. Which means I don’t think it’s going to be too much longer until I can convince her to go home. This hairy hood is giving me a head sweat. Plus, it’s way itchy. “Let’s go here next,” Harry says, pointing at a huge, gothic house. It looks really creepy.

  “We can’t, there aren’t any pumpkins outside,” I say.

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t live somewhere like this unless you liked scary stuff, would you?” Harry says, and she’s off up the drive before I can stop her.

  “Harry, come back!” I shout. But she’s not listening. She’s busy knocking on the door when I finally catch her up.

  We stand there for what feels like ages.

  “Come on, there’s nobody in, let’s go,” I say, trying to tug Harry away, but she starts knocking again.

  And then the door is flung open.

  “Think you can get me with your trick or treat?” an extremely angry man says. “I’ve been caught out by you terrors before. Coming around demanding sweets. I’ll give you a trick you won’t forget…”

  And with that he produces a bucket. Harry, with more foresight than me, darts out of the way, but I only realise as the water’s flying towards me what’s about to happen.

  I gasp as the freezing-cold water soaks through my fur and clothes and makes contact with my skin. I’m soaking.

  The man has disappeared back inside, slamming the door behind him. The letterbox clatters and we hear an angry “Now clear off my property before I call the police!”

  “Wow,” Harry says.

  “I told you we shouldn’t have gone there,” I say, starting to shiver.

  “I didn’t know he’d be such a grouch, did I?” Harry protests.

  “We’re going home,” I say. “I’m frozen.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Suze, you’re not that wet,” Harry says. “Just a bit on your head. Your ears are kind of limp, and maybe your chest wig looks a bit soggy. Can’t we stay out for a bit longer? Please? Pretty please?”

  “Nope,” I say firmly. “You’ve got loads of sweets already.”


  “Oh, okay,” Harry agrees reluctantly. She yawns as she’s saying it, so I know she’s getting tired, even though she’d never admit it.

  We turn and start the walk home, the streets now emptier of trick-or-treaters than earlier; I guess all the little ones have been taken to bed. Harry and I are walking alongside each other; she’s jabbering away non-stop, having hoovered about a third of her sweets already and buzzing on a sugar high.

  “Look at that!” Harry gasps, grabbing at my furry arm.

  I look where she’s pointing and she’s right, it’s a seriously impressive decorated house. The person who lives there obviously goes in for Halloween in a big way. There are several pumpkins, all carefully carved, lining the path to the house. There are black paper bats stuck to the windows next to the front door, and the bushes and trees have been decorated with cobwebs. There are some little glowing ghost lamps by the doorsteps and an inflatable vampire.

  “Please can we knock there? Please?” Harry begs.

  I’m shivering now and suspect my wet werewolf look isn’t the best. “Harry, I really want to go home.”

  “Just here. Just this one and then we can go home. I promise I won’t ask to go anywhere else.”

  “Oh, all right.” It’s easier to give in.

  Harry gives an excited twirl of her broom and runs up the path to the front door, where she jumps out of her skin and gives a little scream.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I say, as Harry comes racing back towards me.

  “There’s a creepy butler on the porch,” Harry says, dragging me towards the house. “I thought it was real for a moment. You have to come with me and see.”

  To the side of the door, hidden inside the porch, is a life-sized butler, standing with his eyes closed, holding a tray of drinks. It is incredibly realistic. As I peer closer, the eyes ping open and a robotic voice says, “Come inside for the fright of your life.”

  I jump out of my skin. “Aaaaaargh!”

  Harry’s falling about laughing. “That’s what made me jump, too,” she squeals, delighted she’s managed to catch me out.

  “That is one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen,” I say, as the front door creaks open.

  And when I see who’s standing there, my heart feels like it stops altogether. It’s far and away the scariest thing I’ve seen all night. Way worse than that butler.