'I can't do it!' I wailed.
'Yes you can,' said Biscuits. 'Keep practising.'
'I am. Help me, Biscuits. Hold the bag with me and show me again. Please!'
Biscuits sighed but he came over, put his big hands round mine and squeezed smoothly on the 160
bag. I let him choose the words. He wrote: Gemma is rubbish
at icing
'OK, OK,' I said, struggling to take over. 'Well, give it me back. I'll have another go.'
I wrote alone, slowly, wobbling all over the place: Biscuits is
a great mate
Biscuits' smile came back.
He smiled and smiled and smiled.
Fourteen
It was great fun riding along in the Mercedes.
Grandad kept calling me Lady Gemma and asking me if I'd like a drink or a sweet or a rug around my knees. We stopped at a motorway cafe around six o'clock. We both had a huge fry-up of sausages, bacon, baked beans and chips. Grandad let me squirt tomato sauce out of a squeezy bottle all over mine. I wanted to write
Yummy nosh!
but it took up too much room, so I settled for Yum!
When we got back on the road Grandad tuned into a Golden Oldie radio channel and sang me 162
all these old songs, telling me how he used to jive to them with Grandma. I sang too, but when the radio frequency started to fade I faded too.
I curled up on the comfy leather seat, head on a cushion, rug wrapped around me, and slept deeply for hours and hours. Then I was vaguely aware Grandad was picking me up, still wrapped up in the rug like a big baby in a shawl. He was carrying me into a dark house and tucking me up in a little camp bed.
I went straight back to sleep. When I woke up it was a bright sunny morning and I was in a totally strange bedroom, Grandad gently snoring over in the big bed.
I got up and had a little wander round the room.
I peeped out of the curtains, expecting to see mountains and lochs and hairy Highland cattle and men in tartan kilts. It was disappointing to see a perfectly ordinary street of grey houses and a video shop and a newsagent and a Chinese takeaway just like at home. There was a man coming out of the newsagent's with his paper and a pint of milk but he was wearing trousers, and they weren't even tartan.
'What are you looking at, sweetheart?' Grandad mumbled.
'Scotland. But it doesn't look very foreign,' I said.
'You wait till I drive you to Alice's new house.
It's right out in the country'
'Can we go now?'
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'Soon. After we've had breakfast.'
It was a satisfyingly Scottish breakfast cooked by Mrs Campbell, the lady who ran the boarding house.
We had our breakfast in a special dining room with the other guests. Grandad and I had our own little table for two. I plucked at the checked tablecloth.
'Is this tartan?' I asked.
'Aye, it is indeed, lassie. The Campbell tartan, I expect. They're a very grand clan – especially the ladyfolk,' said Grandad, putting on a very bad Scottish accent.
Mrs Campbell didn't mind. She giggled at Grandad and gave us extra big
helpings of porridge.
'You're supposed to eat your
porridge with salt when you're in
Scotland,' said Grandad.
He can have the salt, darling,
but you can have brown sugar and cream,' said Mrs Campbell,
giving me a little bowl and jug. 'But leave room for your smokies.'
I wasn't sure what smokies were. They turned out to be lovely cooked fish swimming in butter. Mrs Campbell cut mine off the bone for me. Then she brought us lots of toast with a special pot of Dundee marmalade.
'I like Scotland,' I said.
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'Me too,' said Grandad, patting his stomach.
'Hey, maybe we could live up here, Grandad. Just you and me. You could drive a car round here and I could go to Alice's school. It would be brilliant! I could keep house for you, Grandad. I'm getting to be a great cook. Biscuits' mum said my cake was absolutely tip-top, didn't she? I could make you a cake every single day. Wouldn't that be wonderful?'
'What about your mum and dad and Callum and Jack and that mad dog?'
'Oh, I expect I'd miss them a little bit, but I'd much sooner be with you and see Alice.'
'Let's just deal with today first. I can't cope with long-term plans, not on a full stomach,' said Grandad.
'Now, hush a minute while I have a look at the map.
I've got to work out exactly how to get to Alice's.'
It took longer than we'd thought. We drove right out into the countryside. Just as Grandad had promised, there were great stark mountains and blue lochs. I stared at field after field with perfectly ordinary cows – and then I suddenly spotted a fat hairy orange creature with horns.
I screamed excitedly and Grandad swerved and swore.
'For heaven's sake, Gem, what?
I nearly crashed the car!'
'A Highland cow! Look, Grandad,
it really is!'
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'Oh goodie, goodie!' said Grandad sarcastically, mopping his brow. But then he smiled at me. 'Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to be grumpy. It's just . . .
I'm beginning to wonder if your mum might have been right all along. I think I must be going nuts.
What if Alice is out when we get there?'
'She won't be, Grandad, I promise,' I said happily.
'How can you be so sure?' said Grandad.
'Trust me,' I said.
'Well, supposing they are in, what if her mum and dad won't let you see her? They were so cross with you two for running away like that.'
'Grandad, even Auntie Karen isn't going to tell us to bog off when we've driven hundreds of bogging miles.'
'Hey, hey, you'll have to watch that mouth of yours, little girl.'
'OK, OK. Don't look so worried, Grandad.
Everything will be lovely, lovely, lovely'
'Yes, but just suppose Alice isn't quite as pleased to see you as you'd like?'
I stared at Grandad. It was as if he'd started talking a foreign language. He wasn't making any kind of sense. Maybe he really was starting to go a little bit nuts.
'Of course Alice will be pleased to see me,' I said.
We found their village eventually. We drove round 166
it twice asking for directions and going up the wrong lane and round the wrong corner but finally we juddered the car down a long grassy trail with big trees and bushes on either side. We turned a corner into a clearing and there was the house.
It was an amazing house too! I understood why Auntie Karen had got so excited about it. It was a big grey stone building, practically a palace, with lots of leaded windows and a large studded wooden front door. It was like one of those huge houses where you pay to have a guided tour.
'This can't be Alice's house,' I said.
'Blooming heck! They've certainly gone up in the world,' said Grandad. 'It must be their house though, because that's Alice's dad's car in the driveway.'
'Look up at the top window! There's Melissa on the windowsill – see all her long ringlets?' Then I spotted another head. 'And there's Alice!'
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She looked out of the window and saw Grandad and me down below in the car. She disappeared.
Within seconds the large front door opened and Alice came hurtling out.
'Gemma!'
'Oh Ali, Ali, Ali!' I shouted, jumping out of the Mercedes.
Then we were hugging each other hard, whirling round and round, laughing and crying all at the same time.
'You two!' said Grandad, mopping at his own eyes.
'Have you told your mum and dad?'
I asked Alice.
'I've told Dad,' said Alice.
Uncle Bob came out of the house. I was so used to seeing him in posh suits I hardly recognized him. He was all dressed up for his new country life in a checked shirt and a big quilty wa
istcoat and cord trousers and gumboots. He looked such a total wally in his green welly get-up that I burst out laughing. Luckily he just thought I was laughing because I was so happy to see Alice.
He patted me on the head and shook hands with Grandad, saying it was frightfully good of him to drive all this way. He looked at the Mercedes in astonishment.
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'New car?' he said weakly.
Grandad was chuckling too. 'I fancied a bit of comfort in my old age,' he said. 'Well, I've got all sorts of stuff to attend to. Is it OK if I leave young Gemma here and come and collect her around tea time?'
'Of course, of course,' said Uncle Bob, but he looked anxious when Auntie Karen started calling.
'Alice? Bob? Where have you two got to?'
She came out the front door, wearing very tight white trousers and a white fluffy sweater. Her face went white too when she saw me. 'Gemma! You dreadful girl, you've not run away again?'
Then she saw Grandad. Her pale face flushed pink. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . .'
'She is a dreadful girl, we all know that,'
said Grandad, putting his arm round me. 'But I'm to blame this time. I had to come up to Scotland on business so I brought young Gemma with me. I hope she can stay and play with Alice today?'
'Well, we were going out—' Auntie Karen started.
'Oh Mum! I have to make the most of every minute of Gemma,' said Alice.
'Gemma promises to be as good as gold, don't you, Sweet Pea?' said Grandad.
'Yes, don't worry, Auntie Karen, I'm on my absolutely best behaviour.'
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'Well, maybe you can stay for lunch.'
'Oh Mum! Gemma's got to stay for tea too.'
'But the Hamiltons are coming. I'm not sure we'll have enough . . .' said Auntie Karen.
'Oh, that's fine, Auntie Karen, we'll have heaps because I've brought a cake. I made it all myself –
well, nearly, didn't I, Grandad?'
'Yes, you did, pet. But maybe you'd better not stay if it's going to be a bother,' said Grandad, frowning.
'No, no, of course Gemma
can stay. You too.' Auntie Karen
took a deep breath and flashed
a very false smile. 'It will be
lovely. Now, would you like to
see round the house? Of course
it will take us a while to get it
exactly as we want it, but I know
you'll make allowances.'
Grandad got roped into this Grand Tour. He wiped his shoes carefully as he stepped into the hall and made a big effort, remarking on the big airy rooms and the wonderful thick carpets and the dazzling light fittings and the beautiful views from the windows. Every time Auntie Karen looked away Grandad pulled a funny face and mopped his brow.
Alice skipped ahead. 'Wait till you see my bedroom, Gemma, just wait!' she kept calling.
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We had to see Auntie Karen and Uncle Bob's bedroom first, plus their ensuite bathroom. Auntie Karen even demonstrated their power shower, splashing us a little bit so that Grandad had to wipe his glasses.
'And this is the guest room,' said Auntie Karen, opening the next door. Then she bit her lip and closed it again. 'We haven't fixed it up properly. We haven't even got a proper spare bed,' she said.
I'm pretty certain Auntie Karen was fibbing. She just wanted to make sure she wasn't landed with us as guests.
'Now I'll show you Alice's bedroom,' she said.
'About time,' said Alice, taking me by the hand and pulling me inside.
I'd wiped my shoes too but I wondered if I should take them off altogether. Alice had a pale-pink carpet with a deep-pink rug in the shape of a rose beside her bed.
She had a new duvet cover, white with pink roses, and frilly matching curtains.
She had the same wardrobe and chest of drawers but they d been painted
rose pink to match the rug. Alice
had a brand new pinkly-painted
desk with a pink fluffy notebook and pencil case and several pink gel
pens laid out neatly on top.
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'It's very . . . pink,' I said.
I looked at Melissa on the windowsill. My heart started beating fast. 'She's wearing a pink dress,'
I said.
Alice smiled. 'Yes, doesn't she look lovely? Flora gave it to me. She had this modern china doll called Miss Rosepetal and we swapped outfits. Melissa matches my bedroom now.'
I swallowed. I glanced at Grandad but he was wearily complimenting Auntie Karen on her flower stencilling and hadn't even noticed.
Melissa looked awful in her sleazy pink ruffles. I badly wanted to dress her back in her own white frock but I felt I couldn't make a fuss, not now I was on my very best behaviour.
Alice didn't seem to have any idea that I minded about Melissa's outfit. That was weird too, because we always knew exactly what the other was thinking. Alice happily showed me all her new fancy pink treasures. She even had a new pink dressing gown and a pink nightie with grown-up straps.
'I put it on and pretend it's an evening dress and play pop stars,' said Alice. 'Isn't it glorious? Dead sexy!' She held it up against herself and twirled around, doing this silly wiggly dance.
'No, this is dead sexy,' I said, strutting around 172
on my toes, pretending to be this lap-dancer I'd once seen on television before Mum switched it off sharpish.
'What are you playing at, Gemma?' said Auntie Karen.
'Hey, hey, that's enough, our Gem,' said Grandad.
'I thought you were supposed to be on your best behaviour? Now don't you go letting yourself down or Auntie Karen won't let you stay and play with Alice.'
'No, no, of course she can stay. Until tea time.
No – after tea, of course. It will be lovely. For Alice.'
Grandad said he'd better be on his way as he had all sorts of errands to do. I gave him a big hug. I had this sudden weird feeling that I didn't want him to leave me. I didn't know what was the matter with me. It meant all the world to me to be with Alice, and yet suddenly I wasn't quite sure about her. It was as if she'd been painted bright pink and dressed in frills.
Grandad went to get the cake out of the car and gave the tin to Auntie Karen. She stayed downstairs in the kitchen, preparing for her tea party. Uncle Bob whistled outside in the garden. Alice and I were left on our own together.
I looked at her. She looked at me.
'So . . . you like my bedroom?' said Alice.
'Yes, it's beautiful,' I said.
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I sat down very gingerly on the end of her bed. Alice sat beside me.
'And you like all my new stuff?'
'Everything's lovely. Though how
terrible to lose Golden Syrup!'
'Oh, he was so old and scruffy. I
like my ballet bear much better.
I'm getting all sorts of new stuff.
Mum says I might be able to have
my own television.'
'A fluffy pink one?' I said.
'I don't think they make them like that,' said Alice, taking me seriously.
'Why don't you ask for your own computer? Then we could e-mail each other direct without having to get that Flora involved.'
'Flora doesn't mind. She's been ever so sweet about it,' said Alice. 'You'll meet her this afternoon, Gemma. She's coming to tea with her mum and dad.'
'But – but you knew I was coming,' I said.
'Yes, but my mum invited them, see. You'll like Flora, she's great.'
'I thought it would be kind of like a birthday tea for you and me.'
'But it's weeks until our birthday.'
'Still, I made a cake, so we could have our birthday wish.'
'A real cake?'
174
'Yeah. You wait till you see it.'
'Gem, you can't cook.'
'I can. Biscuits helped me.'
'Oh yuck! I don't want a cake made by Biscuits.'
'He's a good cook. He watches Fat Larry. We're doing a project about him at school.'
'What a weird project! Hey, do you want to see Flora's and my Egyptian project? She's done most of the writing and I've done the pictures. You draw ancient Egyptians sideways and I'm good at noses.'
'Do you think the ancient Egyptians walked sideways in real life?' I said, jumping up and demonstrating.
'Don't be daft, Gem. Look – see my
picture of an Egyptian mummy. The hiero-glyphics took me ages. I've used special gold pencil all round the edges to show it's a mummy of someone really royal and special.'
'Is it a man or a woman?'
'You can't always tell. They all seemed to wear black eye make-up.'
'Maybe it's a trick mummy. When you open it up you find another decorated mummy inside, and then another and another – you know, like those wooden Russian dolls – and then eventually you find a weeny baby mummy, and its hierowhatsits will be pictures of bunnies and storks and fluffy ducklings.'
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'Oh Gemma!' said Alice, but she started giggling.
'Look, I've drawn a cat mummy too.
You reminded me about them. They look so weird all stretched out like that. I wonder if they turned any other animals into mummies. Imagine a cow mummy! They'd have a job squashing its legs into place. It would look weird, a long squeezed-out neck and then a head with horns. Hey, imagine a giraffe mummy – its neck would go on for ever!'
'I don't think they have giraffes in Egypt,' said Alice, but she'd really got the giggles now.
I wound myself up in her duvet and stuck my head out, my eyes bulging, pretending to be a giraffe mummy. Alice laughed so much she had to flop on her bed.
'Oh Gemma, I have missed you so. You're such fun.'
We had fun all morning, messing around in Alice's bedroom. It was as if all the pinkness had peeled away and we were back in her old bedroom at home.
I got a bit tense again when Auntie Karen called us for lunch. I always seem to spill more than usual when I'm anxious. But it wasn't a formal knife-and-fork sit-up-properly-at-the-table kind of lunch. She'd fixed us hot dogs and crisps and salad on blue plas-176
tic picnic plates. Auntie Karen just had the salad.
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