How To Get What You Want by Peony Pinker

by Jenny Alexander

  ‘Oh!’ said Primrose, seeing me sprawled on the sofa.

  She was bending over slightly, holding her stomach and occasionally remembering to wince as if she was in pain. I could tell she was putting it on and the way Bianca was acting, so could she.

  ‘Where’s your paracetamol?’ she said impatiently. ‘Two of those and you’ll be right as rain, yeah?’

  ‘I don’t need paracetamol. I just need to sit down. I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company.’

  ‘Nothing new there then!’ laughed Bianca. ‘But seriously, babe, you’ve got to get better before tonight. It’s the first time they’ve invited us.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I thought. ‘Could that be why Primrose is faking a stomach ache? Is it just that she wants to get out of going to one of the lifeguards’ famous beach parties?’ It didn’t seem likely.

  Primrose dropped into the armchair, clutching her stomach.

  ‘I’m so sorry but seriously, there’s no way I’m going to be able to go to the party. You go though. Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘What, on my own?’ cried Bianca. ‘I don’t think so! You can’t bail on me now.’

  But Primrose kept it up for two whole hours and finally Bianca had to give up and go home.

  ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Assuming you haven’t died in the night, of course,’ she added sarcastically. Ouch!

  The minute she had gone Primrose said, ‘You aren’t watching this are you?’ and before I had time to answer she grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

  ‘How do you know that boy?’ she demanded.

  ‘What boy?’

  ‘Don’t act dim. The one at the beach.’

  ‘None of your business,’ I said. ‘And anyway, I thought you were supposed to be ill.’

  ‘Whatever,’ snapped Primrose.

  I took the remote back and switched the TV on again. It was the adverts. Primrose still wasn’t giving up.

  ‘He’s called Mac, isn’t he?’

  ‘No, actually. He’s called Matt.’

  ‘So… where did you meet him?’

  ‘None of your business, like I said.’ I turned the volume up. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’m watching TV and I don’t want to talk, which shouldn’t be a problem because a pea-brain like me obviously can’t have anything interesting to say.’

  ‘It was just Bianca who said that. You know what she’s like. She was having a laugh.’

  ‘So were you,’ I said. ‘But guess what? I wasn’t.’

  Primrose got that frown she gets when things aren’t going her way.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you and Bianca but don’t take it out on me,’ I said.

  It was like a red rag to a bull.

  ‘Right!’ Primrose lunged forward and grabbed the remote out of my hand. ‘Stop messing around and tell me how you know him!’

  ‘Why should I?’

  She dangled the remote above my head, just out of reach.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ I said. ‘From the kennels. He’s one of the Teversons.’

  I leapt up and grabbed the remote back. She laughed.

  ‘See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

  Primrose went to her room and I tried to watch Neighbours but I couldn’t concentrate. The prickly feeling behind my eyes had come back. Even if I could get rid of Bianca, what was there to say the old Primrose would come back?

  So much of Bianca seemed to have rubbed off on Primrose that it felt as if she had deliberately got Bianca out the way just so she could have a go at pushing me around on her own.

  Chapter 15

  Way to go, Dad, and thank you, Annabel!

  The next day, Primrose told Bianca she still wasn’t feeling well. On the upside, that meant Bianca didn’t come round, but on the downside Primrose had nothing to do. She hates being on her own and Mum and Dad had both gone out.

  ‘Do you want a milkshake?’ she asked. ‘I’m making one.’

  Like I would drink anything she made for me. I didn’t even look up from my book. She went downstairs, rattled around in the kitchen and came back up again. Then she went upstairs and rattled around in her bedroom. Five minutes later, she was back.

  ‘You can have this.’ She tossed her grey hoodie onto the settee. ‘It’s too small for me and I know you like it.’

  Was it full of itching powder or something? I pushed it away.

  ‘What are you reading? Is it any good?’

  She was like a big noisy bluebottle buzzing around, driving me mad. I put my book down.

  ‘Why are you being weird?’ I said.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes you are.’

  She backed off, but though she didn’t try to talk to me any more she still hung around. I was glad when Mum got back from Stella’s and made her go and tidy her bedroom.

  Dad was at the county cricket ground watching Cornwall play Wiltshire all afternoon and he came home in such a good mood we thought Cornwall must have won by at least a trillion runs.

  ‘So – good game?’ asked Mum.

  ‘No, they thrashed us,’ said Dad, cheerfully. ‘But there are more important things in life than cricket!’

  He grabbed his laptop and went upstairs to write his report.

  ‘I must be imagining things,’ said Mum. ‘I could swear I just heard Dad say there were more important things in life than cricket.’

  It turned out that the more important thing on Dad’s mind was the problem page, because if he couldn’t get that right he would be out of a job and then he wouldn’t get any more free tickets to the cricket – or the football or the rugby or any other sport, come to that.

  It was so much on his mind that he couldn’t follow the game… and then all of a sudden he had it, the answer to his prayers. Mr Kaminski! He was a person with lots and lots and lots of life experience.

  Dad called in on him after the match and asked him straight out, what did he think Frustrated Fan should do?

  ‘Is always same thing,’ said Mr Kaminski. ‘You have to ask, what does he want? What exactly does he want? Does he want his girlfriend to watch tennis with him? No! She will talk all the time. She will ask the rules.’

  Dad nodded. He completely got that. He hated it when Mum tried to watch football with him.

  ‘This Frustrated Fan, he wants her to let him watch in peace. So he must do a deal. He watches tennis but on next day he takes her out, somewhere lovely, something she wants to do.’

  ‘But he wants to watch all of Wimbledon – and that’s a whole fortnight.’

  ‘Then he take her on holiday one whole fortnight, yes?’

  Mr Kaminski went through all the problems with Dad and then Dad emailed his answers straight off to Ed.

  ‘Ed just rang and he’s really happy with it – and you know the best thing?’ goes Dad. ‘Mr K said he wouldn’t mind helping me every week until Daphne comes back, however long that will be.’

  Way to go, Dad!

  ‘You should buy him a thank-you present,’ said Mum.

  ‘I know what he needs,’ piped up Primrose. ‘A new cardigan!’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea, Annabel,’ goes Dad.

  She put on her queen-of-smug face.

  ‘Actually, I’ve had another brilliant idea as well. Peony really wants a dog, and the main reason she can’t have one is because you’re scared of them, right?’

  Dad looked as if he might argue the point but then decided not to because, let’s face it, we all knew it was true.

  ‘Well, you could go to the kennels and meet some dogs, and learn not to be scared any more.’

  What was she playing at? Why should she want to help me get a dog? Who was this new Primrose and where had the old one gone?

  Mum said, ‘That is a good idea, Prim… I mean, Annabel.’

  ‘Thanks. I thought, as you know Mrs Teverson, you could set it up. You could ask if she’s got any little tiny dogs in at the moment that Dad could start with.’

  Dad said
he didn’t like little tiny dogs. They yapped and jumped about and sank their teeth into people’s ankles.

  ‘OK then, big docile dogs,’ said Primrose.

  But Dad didn’t like big docile dogs either. A big docile dog could unexpectedly get competitive over the ball and bite a person on the bum. He shuddered.

  ‘Then how about really, really old dogs, the sort that haven’t got many teeth left and can’t jump up any more?’

  He seemed to consider it. I couldn’t see why Primrose should be trying to help me but she did seem to be on to something.

  ‘One of the Teversons’ own dogs is really, really old,’ I said. ‘He’s called Sam and he’s nearly blind.’

  ‘Ideal!’ goes Primrose. ‘Come on Dad. I’ll go with you for moral support.’

  ‘You could go on Saturday when Peony’s there,’ suggested Mum.

  ‘No! Not Saturday!’ Primrose said, a bit too quickly.

  Suddenly, it all started to make sense.

  ‘I-it must be very busy on Saturdays, isn’t that right, Peony?’

  Yes, that was right – and also, Matt wouldn’t be there because he would be working at the Crocodile Cafe.

  She fancied him! That was why she had a picture of him on her phone. That was why she gave Bianca the brush-off, so she could get me on my own and make me tell her everything I knew about him.

  If Primrose wanted Bianca out of the way when she gave me a grilling it must be because Bianca didn’t know she fancied Matt. Bianca must think Primrose was like her, hanging around at the beach because of the lifeguards, when all the time she was just after a glimpse of Matt in the cafe.

  That’s when I had my light-bulb moment. I saw how I could get rid of Bianca for certain sure and have the old Primrose back. If Primrose started going out with Matt she wouldn’t want to have Bianca around all the time. It would be Matt and not Bianca hanging round our house, and that would be better than better – it would be perfect!

  ‘You’re right, Primrose,’ I said. ‘A week-day evening would be best.’

  Mum said I really should try harder to remember to call Primrose Annabel considering all the trouble she was going to, helping me to get what I wanted.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, turning to Primrose. ‘It really is very generous of you doing all this, especially when there’s nothing at all in it for you.’

  She went bright red. Then I knew one hundred per cent that I was right.

  ‘Thank you, Annabel!’ I said.

  Chapter 16

  A cowardy custard and a cunning plan

  Dad bottled it. Like I’d told Becky, he’d rather jump off a cliff than set foot in a kennels, even with Primrose there to hold his hand. He’s such a cowardy custard.

  Primrose didn’t seem to have any other great ideas about how to make Matt notice her except gazing at him adoringly from a distance on the beach.

  ‘Sometimes love needs a helping hand,’ Becky said. We were having our lunch under a sun umbrella outside the Crocodile Cafe, which we had decided to do every Saturday.

  Matt came out to wipe the tables. Becky said, ‘See that girl down by the lifeguards’ station?’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The one in the blue bikini. She fancies you.’

  Matt laughed. ‘Yeah, that’ll be why she’s always hanging around the lifeguards then.’

  So he had noticed her, always hanging around.

  ‘Really, she does,’ said Becky. ‘We know because she’s Peony’s sister.’

  That got his attention.

  ‘She’s got a photo of you in her phone,’ I said.

  ‘Why don’t you ask her out?’ goes Becky. ‘She’d definitely say yes.’

  Matt did seem quite keen but you could kind of tell he wasn’t going to actually ask her.

  ‘He might be a bit too shy,’ I said, after he had gone back in.

  ‘Hmm, you could be right,’ said Becky. ‘Sometimes love needs an almighty shove. How can we get those two in the same room together?’

  ‘I know,’ I said. Mr Kaminski’s garden-warming party!’

  Mr Kaminski was having a barbecue that evening to celebrate his wonderful new garden. He had invited everyone in Harbour Row and asked us to tell our friends. I was bringing Becky.

  Next time Matt came out to clear the tables we called him over and asked him. Everyone in Harbour Row would be there, we said. Including Primrose.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Matt. ‘I’m helping my dad to build some new fences when I’ve finished here. It’ll be quite late by the time that’s done.’

  We tried to persuade him but that just seemed to make him more sure he wouldn’t be able to come.

  Anyway, there was another problem. Bianca had already invited herself to the barbecue, and Matt and Primrose would never get a minute to themselves with her around. She would be sticking to Primrose like glue because the lifeguards were having another beach party later that night and this time she was determined she and Primrose were going to be there. She was still narked with Primrose for making them miss the last one.

  ‘So…’ Becky said, when I explained all this to her, ‘if Primrose ducks another beach party that would be pretty serious, right?’

  ‘It would be suicidal,’ I said. ‘Bianca would go mental.’

  ‘The end of their friendship?’

  ‘For sure. But Primrose wouldn’t dare.’

  Becky thought about this.

  ‘What if she had a really big incentive?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as thinking that Matt was going to be at the barbecue.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like he is,’ I said.

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Becky. ‘She just needs to think he’s coming. Then she’ll be desperate to get Bianca out of the way at the barbecue and she definitely won’t want to leave early to go to the beach party.’

  Becky said all I had to do was make Primrose think Matt was coming to the barbecue. How hard could that be? Ooh… it was a cunning plan! It couldn’t possibly fail.

  By the time I got home I was starting to have second thoughts. What if they rumbled me? I’ve never been the world’s best liar. But the first thing I saw when I walked in was Bianca’s weasely face, and I knew I had to go for it.

  They were sitting round the kitchen table finishing lunch.

  ‘Mum,’ I said, taking a handful of leftover crisps. ‘Becky’s invited Matt from the kennels to the barbecue tonight. Is that all right?’

  ‘Of course, darling,’ said Mum.

  Mission accomplished, I got out of there quick-smart before I could start to look shifty. I went to my room, leaving the door open so I’d be able to hear what happened next.

  The plan worked like a dream. I would have texted Becky, only I couldn’t find my phone. First Primrose tried the not-feeling-well thing but Bianca laughed it off.

  ‘We only have to stay at the barbecue for an hour, and after that we’re going to the party even if I have to carry you down there on my back!’

  Then Primrose tried the family-stuff-is-just-so-boring approach.

  ‘You don’t have to come to the barbecue,’ she told Bianca. ‘It’s going to be such a yawn! You could go straight to the beach and I’ll meet you down there as soon as I can get away.’

  All afternoon, Primrose wriggled like a worm on a hook but Bianca wouldn’t let her off. They were going to the barbecue and then they were going to the beach party, end of.

  By five o’clock time was running out. Mum was next door helping to organise the food and Dad was firing up the barbecue. Whoever put him in charge needed their head tested after the last time.

  Primrose and Bianca came upstairs to her room to get ready. I thought Primrose must have given up trying to get rid of Bianca, but while Bianca was washing her hair in the bathroom Primrose ran noisily down the stairs and out the back door.

  I peeped out the window and saw her striding up and down in the yard. What was she up to? After a few minutes she came back inside and ra
n back up the stairs, just in time to bump into Bianca on the landing with a towel wrapped round her head.

  ‘Honestly!’ Primrose gasped. ‘You won’t believe it! Mum and Dad have just told me I can’t go to the lifeguards’ party. It’s so unfair!’

  Bianca didn’t say anything. I could hear every word but I couldn’t see their faces. I crept towards the door but I couldn’t quite bring myself to put my eye up to the gap.

  ‘Well, I told them,’ Primrose carried on, ‘if you stop me going to the party then you needn’t think I’ll come to Mr Kaminski’s barbecue!’

  Quiet again. Total silence.

  Primrose said, ‘S-so I’m g-going to stay in my room and have an early night. S-serve them right, yeah?’

  I heard Bianca take a deep breath.

  ‘Are you giving me the brush-off?’

  Primrose left a fatal pause. Bianca dived straight into it.

  ‘You are! You’re trying to get rid of me! You ungrateful little toad!’

  She went off like a rocket, shouting and swearing at Primrose, calling her all sorts of names.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ Primrose kept saying. Then she poured fuel on the fire. ‘It’s just tonight. It’s just one beach party.’

  ‘One beach party?’ cried Bianca. ‘Last time was one beach party. This makes two beach parties and that’s two too many!’

  Primrose tried to say something but Bianca wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘You needn’t think I’m going to stick up for you at school any more. Wait till I tell everyone what a snivelling little kid you are!’ She put on a high whiny voice. ‘Mummy and Daddy won’t let me go to the party, boo hoo!’

  Primrose made a sort of strangled gasp. She dived into the bathroom and locked the door. I didn’t blame her. Part of me wanted to stay out of sight as well. But I was fed up of hiding from Bianca in my own house. I stepped boldly out onto the landing.

  Bianca was standing there in a bath-towel like an exploding beetroot, bright red and fit to burst.

  ‘I might have known you’d be there, ear-wigging as usual!’ she yelled.

  She started to storm out but then realised she didn’t have any clothes on. Swear word, swear word, swear word, swear word, swear word! Back into Primrose’s bedroom she went, flinging things off the bed, trying to find her clothes.