The Quigleys in a Spin

by Simon Mason

  Lucy went to talk to Dad.

  ‘I knew it would go wrong,’ she said. ‘And now it has.’

  Dad looked crestfallen. He began to explain about being in pain.

  ‘You didn't even remember the Mars Bars,’ she said.

  Dad looked more crestfallen. ‘I'm sorry. But look at it this way, Poodle. At least it can't get any worse. The party's bound to get better now.’

  It didn't.

  Although nothing else went spectacularly wrong, lots of little things didn't go as they should. At Musical Chairs, Lucy was first person out when her hair fell into her eyes and she sat on Will instead of a chair. In Pass the Parcel, the main prize was won by Charlotte by mistake. In the dancing competition, Pokehead had to be disqualified for bad behaviour, and Lucy's tights started coming down so she had to give up. Other people seemed to be enjoying themselves, though Ellie told her that the prizes had been better at Sonya's party, and Pokehead said that she didn't think the Spotty Monster had been as scary as everyone else seemed to think.

  By now, Lucy couldn't think of anything except how bad her party was. She got sadder and sadder.

  She stopped trying to smile.

  She stopped talking to her friends.

  And when the Great Conjurina took the stage and solemnly smashed seven eggs one after the other, she went upstairs alone to her room and shut the door.

  Whenever Lucy was very sad, she got into the narrow space between the bed and the wall and covered herself with the blanket from her doll's pram, and tried to think of not being Lucy. Squeezing her eyes shut, she began to cry big, angry tears.

  After a while there was a knock on the bedroom door.

  ‘Lucy?’

  She stayed where she was.

  ‘Lucy?’

  When she lifted her blanket, Mum and Dad and Will were standing by the door.

  ‘I know what you're going to say,’ Lucy said, between sobs. ‘And I'm not listening. Everything's gone wrong, and it's not all going to turn out fine. It's the worst party ever.’

  There was a small silence, and Mum said, ‘You're right. It is.’

  Lucy didn't hear her because she was already saying, ‘And the worst thing of all is the feeling. First it was like no more sweets, and then it was like going to be sick and now it's like people poking me and not being able to stop them. What did you say?’ she said.

  ‘I agree with you. It's the worst party ever. There's no point in pretending otherwise.’

  Dad agreed too. ‘And the worst bit was Dotty the Disgusting Dalmatian,’ he said. ‘I thought he'd actually killed Grubby Gabby. Think of that, a party where a small girl is crushed to death by an oversized cartoon dog.’

  ‘The other worst bit,’ Will said, ‘was the egg trick. It was really terrible, especially the egg that ended up on the light-shade. And the one that squirted into Tim's orange squash wasn't any better.’

  Lucy came out from behind the bed. ‘Getting about a hundred scented gel pens and nothing else was another worst bit,’ she said. ‘And not winning Pass the Parcel.’

  ‘And what about Moo getting trampled?’ Mum said.

  ‘And Pokehead thinking that wrestling move counted as dancing,’ Will said. ‘She could have broken Tim's neck.’

  ‘And Lucy's tights falling round her ankles in the middle of her Saturday Night Fever routine,’ Dad said. ‘It's all been terrible.’

  Lucy said, a bit proudly, ‘This is the worst party I've ever had.’

  And Will said, ‘I expect it's the worst party in the history of the world. Probably it'll be famous.’

  They all grinned, even Lucy. ‘I don't know why, but my feeling's not so bad any more,’ she said shyly.

  Mum got organized again. ‘Right.

  What shall we do with the rest of this rubbish party?’ she said. ‘All that's left is the treasure hunt and tea. But we can skip them, if you want to.’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘It's OK.’

  ‘What if they go wrong?’

  ‘It won't make any difference now.’

  And so the Quigleys hurried back down to the last bit of the awful party. First it was the treasure hunt. Clues had been hidden all over the house and garden on bits of paper, saying things like: Lift the laundry basket's lid, To find out where the next clue's hid.

  And: Find some pansies in a pot, Feel underneath to find the spot.

  Everyone began to rush from one clue to the next, trying to be the first to reach the hidden treasure.

  Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dad changed into his second costume of the day, a pirate's outfit.

  ‘I wasn't going to do it after the bog-up with the dog,’ he said to Mum. ‘But Lucy's feeling happier now. Anyway, I'm going to keep it very simple. I'm not going to bother with the hook or the parrot or the fake scar.’ He put on an eye patch, a fluffy beard and a striped head-scarf, and said, ‘What do you think? I don't look scary, do I? They'll all be able to recognize me, won't they? I'm just Beardy Bob, the friendly pirate dishing out the treasure.’ But Mum was distracted. ‘What's that smell?’ she said, sniffing.

  They both sniffed.

  Dad opened the freezer door, and dirty water flooded onto the floor. There was a sudden foul smell of rotten meat.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Dad said. ‘Now the freezer's packed up.’

  ‘Lucy was right,’ Mum said. ‘Everything's going wrong today. Quick, empty the freezer while I finish laying out the tea.’ She looked at her watch. ‘You've got about five minutes before they reach the treasure.’

  As fast as he could, Dad began to haul things out of the freezer: bloody lamb chops, sticky pieces of liver and limp steaks dripping with greasy juice. In his haste, his head-scarf fell off, but he fished it out of the flooded cabinet and jammed it back on his head.

  ‘Quick!’ Mum shouted from the other room. ‘They're on their way!’

  Wiping his hands on his beard and flipping his eye-patch back down, Dad bounded up the stairs to the loft, where he dragged a wooden chest from under the bed and arranged himself on it, panting slightly and mopping his brow, listening to the thumping feet of children on the steps below.

  Against all the odds, it had been a very good treasure hunt. Will and Tim, working together, had found most of the early clues first. Then Ellie and Inez were in the lead, finding five clues in quick succession.

  Finally, totally by accident, Pokehead found the last clue: To reach the treasure don't be soft, Just climb the stairs to a place aloft, and, barging Tim out of the way, she led the race up the stairs to the attic room. Now all the children were together. They ran in a hot tangle up the top flight of steps, and burst chattering into the loft, where they stood rooted to the spot, totally silent.

  A strange man they had never seen before sat on a wooden box glaring at them. He looked like a tramp, and stank like one too. His face and arms were smeared with something sticky, and red gloop hung from his beard.

  ‘Ha-har,’ he said suddenly, and the children skittered backwards. ‘Now, now. No need to be timid,’ he said in a strange, rough voice. ‘You know old Beardy Bob, don't ‘ee?’

  The children shook their heads. This seemed to surprise Beardy Bob. He leaned down to Lucy and hissed something quietly. It sounded like, ‘It's me, you idiot, can't you see?’ Then he went on in his old booming voice. ‘Well, you might not know me, but I knows you.’ He fixed his one good eye on Pokehead. ‘I recollect your face,’ he growled. ‘What be your name?’

  ‘Pokehead,’ Pokehead said shyly.

  ‘Pokehead?’ the man shouted, and the children skittered backwards again. ‘Didn't I sail with ‘ee on the Black Terror back in ninety-nine?’

  Pokehead shook her head quickly. ‘No, sir. Wasn't me, sir.’

  The man scratched his beard. ‘Must have been some other Pokehead,’ he muttered. ‘Now then, whose house be this I've washed up in?’

  Lucy put her hand up, and the man stared at her. Will went and stood next to her and held her hand, and together they looked back at the dirty
stranger.

  ‘Will,’ Lucy whispered. ‘Do you think Mum and Dad know he's here?’

  The stranger let out an odd laugh which he immediately swallowed. ‘Do they know? They know all right, young missy. It be they who asked me to come here with my chest of treasure. And here it be. You be the birthday girl, young missy, and this be your treasure!’ He got up and limped all round it and flung open the lid. It was full to the brim with sweets and chocolates and Mars Bars. This made a big difference. As soon as they saw what was in the chest, the children got over their shock. Beardy Bob seemed friendlier once he was handing out sweets, though none of them dared go too close to him, and he didn't smell any better.

  ‘That's real blood, you know,’ Pokehead whispered to Lucy.

  Beardy Bob paused in handing out sweets. ‘Blood?’ he said, surprised. He wiped his face and beard, and looked at his hand. ‘Yuck,’ he said with disgust.

  ‘It is real, isn't it?’ Pokehead asked.

  Beardy Bob recovered. ‘A course it be real,’ he growled. He chuckled dangerously. ‘'Tis the pure clean blood of an innocent child.’ He winked at Lucy.

  Lucy stared at him, baffled.

  ‘Wink, wink,’ Beardy Bob said helpfully. He pulled down his beard briefly and grinned. He was a very strange man with a terribly stained face, but he wasn't scary any more.

  One by one, the children got their sweets and went downstairs. Beardy Bob seemed very keen that Lucy, who hadn't actually won the treasure hunt, should have as many sweets as possible. ‘Are you sure you can't be carrying more?’ he asked.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Don't worry,’ she said kindly as she left. ‘You see, today's a day when everything goes wrong, and it doesn't really matter.’ Over the next few weeks at school, Lucy's friends often talked about the party. But the odd thing was that no one thought it had been the slightest bit awful.

  ‘But what about Dotty the Dalmatian?’ Lucy said.

  They thought Doted had been the most wonderfully shocking thing they had ever seen. They liked all the games, and all the food, and Charlotte said the had never won a prize at a birthday party before, and she would remember it for the rest of her life.

  But best of all had been Beardy Bob. Pokehead told everyone in a hushed voice that Lucy had had a real pirate ‘with real blood', and soon Lucy's party had become famous for being good.

  Only the Quigleys disagreed. When they talked about the party at home, they enjoyed reminding themselves how everything had gone wrong.

  ‘It's very odd,’ Lucy said at last. ‘Talking to my friends, and then talking to you, it's hard to know whether it was the best worst party ever, or the worst best party ever. But I agree with Charlotte. I don't suppose I'll ever forget it.’

  Will's Big Effort

  Will's Big Effort

  The Quigleys went away for the weekend and they took with them a boy they didn't know called Robinson Potts.

  ‘Why are we taking him?’ Will and Lucy asked.

  Mum explained that Robinson Potts was the son of an old friend of hers, who had just come back to the city after living away.

  ‘And now she's got the flu,’ Mum said. ‘I told her we could take Robinson with us this weekend, and it would give her a rest.’

  Will and Lucy wanted to know more about Robinson Potts.

  ‘He's the same age as Will, I think.’

  ‘Is he nice?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘I'm sure he is.’

  ‘Does he like skateboarding?’ Will asked.

  ‘I've no idea.’

  ‘Or surfing, or paragliding, or bungee-jumping?’

  ‘Will, you've never done any of those things yourself.’

  Lucy put her hand up. ‘Will he be interested in collecting seaweed?’

  Mum said that she didn't know what Robinson Potts was interested in, she only knew that his mum had flu and needed a break. ‘It's just for the weekend,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I think it'll be fun to have someone new with us, don't you?’

  Will and Lucy said they didn't know. Mum asked Dad, and Dad said straightaway he thought it would be fun, but he looked as if he hadn't been listening.

  On Friday afternoon, the Quigleys packed the car and went to pick up Robinson Potts. When they got to his house, they found him waiting at the gate with his bags.

  Will and Lucy examined him through the car window. He was a small, wide boy with bushy black hair and a round face that didn't move much. He looked back at them through the window.

  ‘Do you like him yet?’ Lucy whispered.

  ‘I don't know,’ Will whispered back.

  Mum got out of the car to say hello.

  ‘You're seven minutes late,’ Robinson Potts said. He kept looking at his watch. ‘Eight minutes,’ he said after a moment.

  Mum looked taken aback by this, but she said she was sorry and went inside to talk to Robinson Potts's mum.

  Dad took over. After he had said hello and put Robinson Potts's bags in the boot, he told Will and Lucy to make room for him on the back seat.

  ‘I usually sit in the front,’ Robinson Potts said in a flat voice.

  Dad explained that it was against the law for children to ride in the front on motorways. Robinson Potts stared at him sulkily without saying anything, then slowly got into the back.

  Will and Lucy had been reminded beforehand to introduce themselves, but when Will said, ‘Hello, I'm Will,’ Robinson Potts just said, ‘I know,’ and when Lucy introduced herself, he didn't say anything at all. He sat there breathing heavily and looking out of the window until they set off.

  Robinson Potts was a boy who didn't say much. He didn't say much when Mum and Dad asked him about his new house, and he didn't say anything to Lucy when she gave him a detailed description of the Quigleys’ own house. Occasionally Mum said cheerful things to him like, ‘I'm so glad you're coming with us, we'll be able to show you the Valley of the Rocks,’ but he just shrugged. And in the middle of Dad explaining the things they could do at the weekend, such as rock-pooling and beach-games, he got out his GameBoy and started to play on it.

  He wasn't just uncommunicative. He was hard to be with. After a while, Dad put on a CD, and Robinson Potts said that loud music made him feel ill, and Dad turned it off. To cheer everyone up, Mum passed round a tin of travel sweets. They all liked travel sweets, especially Lucy.

  ‘Please can I have the purple one?’ she asked. ‘Please! There's only one left, and they're my favourite.’

  ‘Offer them to Robinson first,’ Mum said. ‘He's our guest.’

  Robinson Potts took the purple one.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  It was eight o'clock in the evening when they arrived. Dad parked the car in front of the cottage, and they got out and stretched, and began to feel in a holiday mood. At the bottom of the hill they could see a bit of sea, grey and glittering. The air smelled different, as if the sky were somehow bigger or looser, and all the birds had strange, excited voices.

  When they had unpacked the car they had a special late tea, which they had brought with them: cold chicken and salad, one of their favourites.

  Robinson Potts said that he didn't like chicken.

  ‘Just eat what you can,’ Mum said kindly.

  ‘I'm allergic,’ he said. ‘I can't eat it and I can't go near it either.’

  ‘How about some salad then?’ Dad said.

  Robinson Potts put on a disgusted expression. ‘I don't eat salad. I've never eaten salad. Anyway, I'm not hungry.’ Without asking, he left the table and went and sat on the sofa.

  The Quigleys ate tea on their own. ‘By the way,’ Will said. ‘I'm not so bothered about salad either.’ But nobody seemed to hear him.

  For pudding there were apple turnovers or ice-cream, and Robinson Potts's appetite recovered enough for him to eat three turnovers very fast, one after the other. After he'd finished them, he asked what flavour the ice-cream was.

  ‘Salad,’ Will said, and got told off.

  At bedtime,
while Robinson Potts was brushing his teeth, Will went to talk to Mum. ‘It's about Robinson Potts,’ he said.

  ‘What about him?’

  Will wondered how to say it. He didn't want to seem rude, so he tried to think of the words Mum used when she told him off. It was hard to choose the right one because there were quite a few of them. ‘He's … difficult,’ he said at last.

  Mum nodded, and Will was encouraged.

  ‘And selfish,’ he added. He thought a bit more. ‘And unhelpful,’ he went on. ‘And uncommunicative. And untruthful. And obstructive. And inconsiderate.’ He stopped, fearing Mum was going to be cross with him.

  ‘You're right,’ Mum said. ‘He is.’

  Will breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to check I didn't have to be nice to him.’

  ‘Unfortunately you do,’ Mum said. ‘He's our guest.’

  Will was amazed. ‘I didn't invite him.’

  ‘It doesn't matter, he's still our guest. You have to make a big effort to be nice to him.’

  Will was more amazed.

  Mum said, ‘Listen, Will. I don't know why he's difficult and selfish and all those other things. But we have to be nice to him anyway. Perhaps he's shy. Try to talk to him a bit more. Get to know him.’

  ‘It's hard to talk to someone who doesn't say anything back.’

  ‘If you're nice to him, he'll be nice to you. Now, promise me you'll make a big effort.’

  Reluctantly Will promised, and went back to the room he was sharing with Robinson Potts.

  It was late by now. Dad read the boys a story, and said goodnight and switched the light off.

  Immediately, Robinson Potts reached over and turned the bedside light back on. ‘I always have the light on,’ he said.

  Dad looked distracted. ‘Will,’ he said. ‘Do you think you can get to sleep with the light on?’

  Will opened his mouth, changed his mind, and shut it again. ‘I suppose I can try,’ he said, with a big effort. Dad looked pleased, and said goodnight, and left him with Robinson Potts.