Double Act

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  Yuck! Now. Where was I?

  Oh yes. Garnet is truly despairing because I have broken up our twinship. She needs me. She might think she’s the clever one now, but not a bit of it! She’s utterly lost without me. But I’m fine. I don’t need her. Not one bit of her.

  Well, maybe her hand would come in useful some of the time. So she could do the writing when I get bored.

  I do get a little bored sometimes. I go out because I don’t want to stay in that smelly old shop, but there aren’t many places to go to in this horrible dump. So I just sort of mooch about.

  I don’t need Garnet to make up games for me. I can make up my own. I mostly pretend I’m this intrepid explorer trekking through the jungle, and there are killer snakes and huge hairy poisonous spiders

  and ferocious tigers

  and I wade through the rapids

  and hang by my fingertips from dangerous mountains

  and whenever I get the merest glimpse of the enemy I have to hide because in spite of my superhuman powers and mega-brilliance I am hopelessly outnumbered.

  I am planning an ambush when the Blob goes unprotected.

  The Intrepid Explorer often starves for days and days. She has to make quick raids into enemy territory

  but often has to make do with natural resources.

  The Intrepid Explorer did ponder about doing a bit of hunting

  but she decided she was a vegetarian. Even though she doesn’t actually go a bundle on vegetables. Sprouts . . . yuck. Cabbage . . . yuck. Cauliflower . . . double yuck.

  If this is a Memorandum book, then it’s just about me . . . and I can jot things down at randum. I know what that means too, Miss Jeffreys, so ya boo sucks to you. It means there’s no plan, and you just shove things in any old how. So these are my random jottings.

  I am Ruby Barker and I am a brilliant actress and if my ex-twin hadn’t made such a muck of things then I could be starring in a telly serial this summer.

  I tried phoning the television people, telling them I was willing to audition for any other part. They thanked me and said they’d get in touch. But they didn’t. So I phoned again and they got a bit shirtier this time and said there weren’t any parts going spare, sorry and all that but would I quit pestering them please, and if I really wanted to be an actress I needed to get myself an agent and why didn’t I go to a good stage school.

  Well, how can I go to a good stage school when my rotten old father won’t send me to one, though he’s sending my sister to the poshest boarding school in the country.

  OK, he doesn’t have to pay fees, but her uniform is costing a fortune.

  You should see it too. Talk about awful and old-fashioned! I wouldn’t be seen dead in those clothes. Garnet looks appalling.

  Well, I suppose Dad isn’t having to pay out of his own pocket. Rose helped Garnet sell her doll at an auction. The crummy china baby doll, twin to mine. I sold mine at the car-boot sale and they gave me £20.

  It is exceedingly painful to have to write this next bit. Garnet’s doll went for £600. Yes. Mine would have been worth that too. It’s some rare French make and daft doll-collectors are willing to fork out a fortune. I mean, you could probably buy a real baby for that sort of money.

  Rose was very very angry when she found out the car-boot people only gave me £20. Not angry with me, with them. She went and found them and kicked up a great fuss, but they argued that it had been a perfectly fair deal and she was in the business and she should know they weren’t running a kiddie’s charity. But they did very reluctantly hand over £100. As a gesture. Rose was still cross because she said they must have made heaps more, but I was happy because that £100 is mine, and although boring old Dad said I should put it in a building society, Rose said she didn’t see why I shouldn’t have some spending money as I was having a bit of a tough time just lately.

  Only I’m not having a tough time at all. Like I said, I’m fine. Doing great. Couldn’t be better. And I’ve ended up with £50 to spend all on ME (plus £50 in Dad’s boring old building society).

  I don’t have to waste it on a horrid, hideous school uniform either. And special suitcases and hockey sticks and dressing gowns and frightful Clarks clodhopper shoes.

  I can spend it on

  or

  or

  or

  or

  or

  or

  It’s weird. I’ve never had my very own money to spend before. I’ve always had to share. So it’s great to get twice as much.

  It’s just I can’t quite get used to being just me.

  I don’t even look like me. It’s a shock whenever I see myself in the mirror. My hair’s growing a bit but it seems to have lost all idea of gravity. It’s growing up.

  This has attracted comments from certain uncouth local loonies, enquiring whether I’m a boy or a girl.

  I soon dealt with them.

  But then the Huge and Horrible Blob opened his horrendous gob.

  He had such an inventive and witty new nickname for me.

  So I invented several new names for him and his stupid mates.

  So then they got all these grass cuttings and asked me if I’d like a green wig and then they threw them all over me

  so I hid behind a hedge until I heard them coming and then I jumped up and yelled that they all talked a lot of rubbish so look out—

  and they got this black plastic bag full of rubbish all over them.

  I’d just grabbed a bag out of someone’s dustbin. I hadn’t looked inside. It turned out it was wondrously smelly soggy rubbish, all sour milk and tea-leaves and half-eaten Chinese takeaways . . .

  So then they got really mad and yelled, ‘Let’s get her!’

  I couldn’t run away quite fast enough.

  So they got me.

  And they smeared rubbish on me and I hit out at them and they kicked me and I bit them but there was only one of me and there were a lot of them.

  And then while Blob and I were bashing away at each other, this horrible boy with ferret teeth got his arm round my neck and started choking me and I tried to reach round and hit him where it really hurts but he was hurting that wobbly bit where you swallow so much that I couldn’t move and Ferret-Face yelled, ‘Go on then, Jerry, bash her face in!’ and I thought, This is it. I’ve already lost my hair. Now I’m going to lose my looks. I’m going to have to go round with a broken nose and no teeth for the rest of my days, and it’s not going to help my acting career one bit, and I had my face all squeezed up ready for the blow but Blob hesitated.

  ‘Leave go of her, Brian, she’s choking,’ he said.

  ‘Well, hit her then!’

  ‘Not with you hanging on to her. And all you others. It’s not fair. We’ll just fight it out, her and me.’

  Ferret-Face muttered and moaned, but he did leave go. I reeled a bit, rubbing my sore neck.

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Blob.

  ‘Course I am,’ I croaked.

  ‘Right. Let’s fight,’ said Blob.

  So he gave me a punch on the shoulder. Quite a soft punch. And I gave him a shove in his stomach. But not too hard. And then he wrestled me to the ground. But carefully. And I kicked at him. Though I actually barely touched him. We seemed to have lost interest in a really ferocious fight. We were just sort of going through the motions.

  Ferret-Face and the other mates got a bit bored with the whole situation too. And they were fed up being covered in all the stinky guck from the rubbish bag, so they sloped off home.

  Blob and I were left.

  ‘Shall we just say that I’ve won the fight and call it quits?’ said Blob.

  ‘You haven’t won the rotten fight!’ I said indignantly. I gave him another punch, though it was a very feeble one.

  ‘All right all right. Well, how about if we call it a draw?’ said Blob.

  I thought a bit. And then I nodded.

  ‘OK. Though I could have won, you know,’ I insisted.

  ‘You’re quite a good fighter. For a gir
l,’ said Blob.

  ‘You’re quite a good fighter. For a big fat blob,’ I said.

  He looked hurt. ‘Hey, there’s no need to call me names. I stuck up for you! I stopped Brian mangling your neck.’

  ‘Yes, but you call me names. Baldie.’

  ‘Yes, well, you do look a bit bald since you had that wacky haircut.’

  ‘Yes, well, you do look a bit blobby.’

  ‘We both look a right sight. Especially now. Covered in all this gunge,’ said Blob, wiping bamboo shoots out of his eye.

  ‘You can say that again,’ I agreed, picking tea-leaves off my face.

  We looked at each other. Then we laughed.

  And it’s weird. We’re not bitter enemies any more. We’re sort of friends.

  I sometimes go round in the gang, though I can’t stick Brian. Actually, Blob isn’t too keen on him either.

  So we’ve started going round together. Just him and me.

  He still calls me Baldie.

  I still call him Blob.

  But it doesn’t matter because we’re mates.

  It’s great to have someone to pal round with. Someone different, not someone the same as me.

  And both Blob and I are going on to the big school together. I’m glad I’ll be shot of that Dumbo Debenham. I’ll be a new girl at a new school with new teachers. I could make a whole new start if I wanted. Work a bit.

  Well, that’s what Dad says.

  I’ll have to see about that.

  But there is one good thing about the new school. They’ve got a stage. Not quite as posh and elaborate as the one at Marnock Heights, but they’ve got velvet curtains, and they can put up special lights and rustle up some scenery and they have a proper play in the summer and a pantomime at Christmas. Blob told me, because his sister’s been in them.

  So I’m going to get to be in them too.

  Definitely.

  It’s all going to be great.

  I’m ever so happy.

  Garnet isn’t happy. She’s started crying at nights. She’s scared about going to boarding school by herself. But it’s not just that. She says she can’t bear not being friends with me any more.

  I listen. And sometimes my eyes sting a bit, but it’s OK in the dark. She can’t see.

  I open my mouth to say a whole lot of things. But somehow I can’t ever get them said into the silence. I can’t even manage one word. Sorry.

  Well, I don’t see why I should say sorry. It’s Garnet’s fault she’s going. She shouldn’t have done so well in that stupid entrance exam.

  No, she should have tried harder at the audition. Then we’d have got to be the Twins at St Clare’s. We’d be acting now. Together.

  We’ve been separate all summer.

  It’s been a bit strange sometimes.

  It’s going to be even stranger when she’s gone.

  It’s her last night at home. Rose cooked chicken and chips, Garnet’s favourite, and made a cake.

  She’s never made me a special cake.

  Garnet could only manage one small slice.

  Then we all had to sit around playing daft games like Snap and Happy Families. Pretending we were all one Happy Family. And Garnet looked like she was going to snap.

  But she didn’t cry. Not even when we went to bed. At least, I don’t think she did. I got right under the covers so that I couldn’t hear.

  I felt as if I was snapping. In half.

  I kept pretending it wasn’t really happening but then we woke up in the morning and Garnet got dressed in her strange new uniform and we’ve never looked less like twins in our lives.

  Rose came into our bedroom to help Garnet get all her new stuff packed and ready.

  I looked at all the new clothes and the pyjamas and the hockey boots and all the other stuff, all exactly my size. But not for me.

  And for the first time I was really glad I wasn’t going. I knew I’d be scared.

  Garnet was so scared she had a funny tummy and had to keep dashing to the loo. One of the times she was missing in the bathroom I picked up her old nightie lying on her pillow and sort of snuggled into it for a second, like a baby with a cuddle blanket.

  Rose was bent over Garnet’s suitcase but she turned and saw me.

  She didn’t say anything – but she straightened up and put her arm round me and gave me a quick hug.

  I started to wriggle away, but she held on to me. So I found I was kind of hugging her back.

  And then I started crying.

  ‘You’re the one that never cries. You’ll start me off,’ Rose whispered.

  ‘Don’t be nice to me. I’ve been so hateful. To Garnet,’ I sobbed.

  ‘You haven’t been exactly sweetness and light to me, either,’ said Rose, laughing shakily. ‘Or your dad. But you’re right. It’s Garnet that really matters.’

  It’s Garnet that really matters.

  My twin. My best friend. My other half.

  She came back from the bathroom and I rushed at her, flinging my arms round her neck.

  ‘Oh Garnet, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a pig, I didn’t mean it really, I was just so jealous, and I felt so stupid, and I felt so left out, but you will still be my twin, won’t you, even though you’re off to Marnock Heights?’

  ‘I’ll be your twin for ever and ever and ever,’ said Garnet, and we hugged so hard we seemed like Siamese twins, joined for ever.

  Only we were about to be ripped apart.

  ‘It’s all my stupid stupid stupid fault,’ I wailed. ‘Oh Garnet, I’ll miss you so terribly.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Ruby – ever so ever so much. But Dad says I don’t have to stay if I really hate it.’

  ‘And you’ll come home some weekends – and all the holidays. Oh, how can I have been crazy enough to waste all this summer being so foul? I hate me. Why do I always have to be the bad twin?’

  ‘Why do I always have to be the good twin?’ said Garnet. ‘Hey, maybe we’re changing round. We’re starting already. You’re crying – and I’m not!’

  ‘You will still be my best friend, won’t you? You won’t go all posh and snooty and look down on me?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t talk wet,’ said Garnet.

  ‘And you will write to me?’

  ‘Every single day. And you write to me too.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘You don’t always keep your promises.’

  ‘But this is a promise I’ll keep, I swear. And I also promise that I’ll never ever be mean to you again, Garnet.’

  ‘You’d better not swear on that promise,’ said Garnet, laughing.

  But she cried a little bit when she and Dad went off in the car. We all cried.

  Garnet’s taken the accounts book with her. She’s going to write in it every day and then show it to me when she comes home. I’ve nearly finished this memorandum book already.

  I’ll have to get another. Bigger, so I can write more. I’ll look and see if there’s a Paperchase in Hineford on Saturday. Rose is going to drive me there. She’s found out about this Saturday drama club. So I’m joining it.

  I was dead chuffed when she told me about it.

  ‘Thanks, Rose,’ I said.

  Well. It was more of a mumble. But she heard.

  ‘It’s OK, Ruby. I’m dying to go to Hineford to see some decent shops. I’ll have a lovely time in the shopping centre while you do your drama session and then we’ll meet up and have lunch. Yes?’

  ‘You bet,’ I said.

  She’s not quite so bad as I thought, Rose.

  It’s time I started some serious drama training. For my big moment when the telly people get in touch and ask me to audition. Because they still might. If this Twitty Twins at St Clare’s serial is a success they might want to do another Enid Blyton book. One of the Famous Five stories, maybe. The leading part is this fierce tomboy girl, Georgina. I could play her easy-peasy. I’ve even got the right haircut now.

  When Dad gives me a big cuddle, he ruffles all the bristles
and calls me his little Scrubbing Brush. Dad’s needed quite a lot of cuddles. Because he’s missing Garnet so much.

  We’re all missing her.

  I’m missing her most.

  But she’s all right. She sort of likes it.

  I’ll stick her first postcard on this page.

  Oh, Garnet. I miss you too. Ever so ever so much.

  But we’re still Ruby and Garnet, even though you’re there and I’m here.

  We’re going to be Ruby and Garnet for ever.

  THE END

  DOUBLE ACT

  AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 407 04589 4

  Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK

  A Random House Group Company

  This ebook edition published 2012

  Copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 1995

  Illustrations copyright © Nick Sharratt and Sue Heap, 1995

  First Published in Great Britain

  Yearling 9780440867593 2006

  The right of Jacqueline Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

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