Jamie and the Horse Show

by Helen Brain

When the girls arrived back in the kitchen, Arabella was just finishing her Skinny Latte.

  “Oh well, Libby,” she said. “We don’t want to keep you from your supper. We’d best be off.”

  “Do feel free to pop around anytime,” Liberty said. “It’s best to phone first, though. Here, let me give you my number. Don’t share it with anyone else. I only give it to my special friends.”

  “Of course not,” said Arabella. “Thank you so much, Libby. It’s just marvellous of you.” She was in a happy daze as she drove off.

  “Wasn’t that a lovely house, girls? And isn’t Libby just marvellous?”

  Jamie was furious. “Mom, NEVER make me spend time with Shardonnay again. She is nasty. And you’re already starting to talk like her stupid mother.”

  “Oh nonsense, Jamie. Do I sense a little jealousy here?” asked Arabella. “Did you have any problem with her, Fifi?”

  “No, Aunty Arabella. Thhe wath marvellouth,” simpered Fifi.

  “Well, there you are,” said Arabella. “Now I don’t want to hear any more about this, Jamie. It’s not like you to be so mean.”

  Jamie fumed at the injustice of it all. She felt tears well up in her eyes as Liberty’s massive gates clanged shut behind them.

  7

  Blackmail

  It was Saturday afternoon and Jamie and Pan were having a swim.

  “Oh my goodness,” shrieked Pan. “What was that?” She jumped out the swimming pool shaking her leg.

  Jamie giggled as a leaf fell onto the paving. “That’s a terrifying beast, waiting to eat you.”

  “Well, in your house you never know what animals are running around,” Pan said, jumping back into the pool. “It could have been a slimy sea creature for all I know.”

  Jamie was about to tell her that sea creatures can’t run when Toby came round the corner, wearing board shorts and a shirt, and clutching a towel.

  “You can’t swim now,” Jamie said. “We’re here. Come back later.”

  Toby smirked. “Oh, I’m not going to swim. I’m going to read.” He spread his towel on the lawn, took off his shirt and sat down. His thin body was so white that it looked almost transparent, and he had angry red pimples all over his knobbly chest.

  Pan covered her eyes. “Get me some shades, quick! I’m getting arc eyes.”

  “Oh, Pandora, you’re so amusing with your little jokes. I wonder if you also think Shardonnay Barker-Polls is a snobby troll who thinks she’s better than everyone else.” And he waved a small leather bound book at her.

  Jamie leapt out the pool. “Hey, that’s my diary! Where did you get it? Give it back.”

  Toby waved the diary high in the air as Jamie

  lunged at him. “I think Shardonnay will be interested to discover that you think she is – and I quote: ‘the most revolting girl in the school. And that her name suits her because all she does is whine’.”

  “Don’t you dare tell her!” yelled Jamie.

  “Unless …” Toby said with a leer, “… you were to do me a little favour.”

  “What?”

  “Invite Shardonnay over again.”

  “Forget it, I’d rather die.”

  “Well, then you’ll die and the whole school will know what a horrible person you are,” sniggered Toby. “I’ll make sure to read an extract of your writing at your funeral.”

  Jamie knew she couldn’t win this one. “Fine,” she huffed. “Just give me back my book.”

  Toby wrapped the book in his towel and sauntered back to the house. “When Shardonnay has been to visit, then you get your diary back. You’ve got a week. Otherwise this will end up in Shardonnay Parker-Boll’s letter box.”

  Jamie jumped back into the pool, cursing. “Arggh. Toby’s not even human, I swear. He’s a cross between a lizard and a … a … SLUG.”

  “All Shardonnay does is whine,” giggled Pan. “Good one, Jamie,” and she gave her a high five.

  8

  A smelly disaster

  The next day Jamie was rearranging the drugs in the dispensary. They were supposed to be in alphabetical order, but her mother was terrible at putting things back in the right place.

  She was dreaming about entering Oreo in a show. Oreo’s tail and mane were plaited and his hair gleamed. Jamie looked superb in perfectly fitting jodhpurs, a show jacket and genuine leather boots. Oreo had just completed a perfect round, and the judges were about to present her with a rosette.

  It was a lovely dream, but then Ilona came bustling in and caught her staring into space. “Hey, your mother isn’t paying you to daydream. You should have finished by now. And by the way, that lovely girl is asking for you in Reception. Shiraz …”

  Jamie looked confused. “Lovely girl? Shiraz?”

  “Shiraz, stupid. Her mom went to school with your mom. Costalot dog food – rides horses …”

  Jamie’s stomach sank as she went through to Reception. She’d texted Shardonnay, inviting her over because Toby had blackmailed her, but she didn’t think Shardonnay would actually want to come. But there she was in a beautiful sun dress that swirled around her long legs. And a pair of sparkly high heeled sandals and her usual sour expression on her pretty face.

  “Hello, Jamie,” Shardonnay said coldly. “Is your brother home?”

  “Sure,” said Jamie brightening up. Maybe she’d be able to dump Shardonnay on Toby and come and finish tidying the dispensary. That would be another sixty rand. “Come over to the house.”

  “Your brother’s so good looking,” Shardonnay giggled as she teetered down the path. “He got the brains AND the looks in your family, didn’t he?”

  Jamie gritted her teeth. She was going to get Toby back for this.

  She opened the front door and Fungi came bursting out, barking and jumping. He rushed right up to Shardonnay and planted two muddy feet on her chest.

  “Get away!” Shardonnay shrieked, hitting him on the head. Fungi squealed and ran inside.

  “You can’t hit my dog!” Jamie yelled. “What kind of person hits a dog?”

  “What kind of person lets their ugly mongrel ruin their visitor’s outfits?” Shardonnay spat. “Now where’s your brother?”

  Just then Bieber came sliding down the banister, clutching a pair of the professor’s red polka dot underpants.

  Shardonnay screamed. “What’s that! It’s going to bite me!”

  Jamie giggled. “It’s Tick’s monkey.”

  “A monkey? With ticks?” Shardonnay clutched the door handle, ready to slam it shut if Bieber came any closer.

  Toby heard her scream and came running down the stairs. “Shardonnay! Don’t be afraid! I’ll save you!”

  “Ooh, Toby,” she cried. “This baboon tried to bite me. Get it away from me.”

  “Bieber! Get out, go on, out!” Toby shouted, clapping his hands.

  Bieber ran up the banister and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Oh Toby,” Shardonnay gasped pressing her face against his pigeon chest. “You saved me! First that ugly dog tried to bite me, and then I got attacked by a chimpanzee.”

  Toby’s ears went bright red. “It was nothing,” he said. His voice shot up the scale and ended in a squeak. “You just have to know how to handle dangerous animals.”

  It took Toby five minutes to comfort the sobbing Shardonnay. The happiest five minutes of his life. At last she stopped sobbing and let him go. “I’m scared, Toby,” she whimpered.

  Jamie stared at her goggle-eyed. Shardonnay should be in the movies – she was such a brilliant actor.

  “You don’t want to stay down here,” Toby said, putting his arm around her. “Come into my room where you’ll be safe. You must be thirsty. What would you like to drink?”

  “A Cappuccino, please,” Shardonnay said in a faint voice.

  “Jamie, go make Shardonnay and me some Cappuccinos,” Toby said.

  “Make it yourself,” Jamie snapped.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to make it?” Toby said, giving her the evil e
ye. “Quick, before Shardonnay and I start reading your favourite book?”

  You pig, Jamie thought as she marched into the kitchen. How was she supposed to make Cappuccinos? Didn’t you need a fancy machine for that? Shardonnay was going to have to drink instant coffee like a normal person.

  When she brought up the coffee, Shardonnay was sitting on Toby’s bed batting her eyelashes at him and winding a lock of hair around her finger. Toby usually looked pretty dumb, but now he looked downright stupid. Even Hawking was standing on top of his cage, his head on one side, staring at Shardonnay. “Hello, sexy,” he squawked and gave a wolf-whistle.

  Shardonnay tossed her hair back and giggled.

  “Would you like to play Kung Fu Panda?” Toby asked.

  “I’d love to. I adore pandas.”

  “My mom rescued a panda once,” Toby said. “It was so cute and fluffy.”

  “That was a mongoose, idiot,” Jamie said, plonking the mugs down on Toby’s desk.

  Shardonnay giggled. “She doesn’t know the difference between a mongoose and a panda.”

  Toby giggled too. He sounded like a giraffe on steroids, Jamie decided.

  “Can I use your loo, please?” Shardonnay asked, looking at Toby with goo-goo eyes.

  “Sure,” said Toby. “It’s across the hallway. Wait here. I’ll make sure there are no dangerous animals inside it.”

  Jamie was just going back downstairs to finish unpacking the dog food when she heard a piercing scream. Shardonnay flung the door open. The bottom of her dress was dripping wet. “Your toilet just flooded ALL OVER me!” she screeched. “And there’s poo in my shoe. I’m phoning my mom. I want to go home.” She took off her shoes and threw them down the stairs.

  “Sorry, Shardonnay, I’m so sorry,” Toby whimpered. “Please don’t go. We were getting on so well …”

  Arabella had just come home. She came running upstairs to see what the yelling was about. “Hello, Dear,” she said to Shardonnay. “I didn’t know you were here. Are you having a nice time?”

  “NO!” yelled Shardonnay.

  “What’s wrong? Have you got an upset tummy? You smell a little whiffy.”

  “I hate you all!” Shardonnay yelled, taking out her phone. “I’m calling my mom to come and fetch me.”

  “Let me wash your shoe …” Toby pleaded. “Please don’t go …” He ran behind Shardonnay dabbing uselessly at her dress with a tissue.

  Arabella looked puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, Mom.” Jamie began to laugh. “The toilet flooded on her shoes. Shardonnay – a white wine with a bouquet of poo.”

  Arabella gasped. “Oh no! Not again. This is so embarrassing. Their house is so perfect.”

  Jamie watched through the window as her mother ran after Shardonnay. She wasn’t embarrassed at all. In fact she hadn’t had so much fun for ages.

  Shardonnay was standing at the front gate, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Arabella was trying to talk to her, but she wouldn’t even look up from her phone. Toby was kneeling on the kerb, trying to wash the hem of her dress with the garden hose.

  Then Liberty drew up in her silver SUV, and Arabella talked even more, waving her arms pointing at Shardonnay’s bare feet and to the front door.

  Jamie grinned as the car zoomed off. I can’t wait to tell Pan, she thought.

  9

  Enter Mr Bogstripper

  It was Saturday morning and Jamie had a problem. One of her shoes was missing.

  “What are you doing under there?” Fifi asked. “You’re giving me dutht miteth. I’ve got allergieth, remember.” She rolled her eyes as though Jamie were an idiot.

  Jamie crawled out from under her bed. “Have you seen my shoe?”

  “Nope. I hope you haven’t lotht it, because Aunty Arabella’th going to be furiouth. Thhe’ll probably make you pay for it yourthelf from your pocket money.”

  “Well, thank you for that helpful advice,” Jamie said, looking behind the dressing table. She wished she could push Fifi under the bed and leave her there. “But I’m going out with Pan and I haven’t got any shoes to wear.”

  “You can borrow mine,” Fifi said with a sweet smile. “Oh no, I forgot. My mommy thayth you can get dithguthting ditheatheth from other people’th toeth. Thorry.”

  Jamie was contemplating locking her cousin in the hall cupboard for the rest of her life when the doorbell rang. “Fifi, can you get that?” she called.

  Fifi sniffed, ran downstairs and opened the door. A handsome man in a suit and tie was waiting on the doorstep. “Morning, young lady, I am Mr Bogstripper. I hear you have an urgent situation.”

  “Hello,” said Fifi. “Ooh yeth. You’re jutht in time. My couthin ith looking for her thhoeth. Thhe’th thuthh a thilly billy. Thhe’th lotht them.”

  “Yes-yes, but I’m here to attend to your sanitary requirements. Here is my card. Bogstripper & Co. Plumbers to the rich and famous. As you can see I have a blog – The Bog Blog.”

  “Who is it?” Jamie called.

  “Mithter Bogthtripper. Here’th hith card. He’th on Fathebook and Twitter. He’th here for our thanitary requirementh.”

  At last! The plumber. Jamie ran downstairs. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “The toilet’s totally blocked.”

  “At your service,” Mr Bogstripper said, straightening his tie. He picked up his briefcase and strode manfully up the stairs to the bathroom.

  Jamie ran over to the surgery. “Mom,” she called, “the plumber’s here! He’s weird. Where’s our usual plumber?”

  “Liberty told me to get Mr Bogstripper. She says he’s the absolute top.”

  “Well, I liked our old plumber better. Claire’s coming to fetch me for the movies in five minutes and I can’t find my other shoe. I’ve looked everywhere. Can you help me look for it?”

  “Can’t you just wear another pair, dear?” asked Arabella.

  “What other pair, Mom? I don’t have any. You’ve been promising to take me shopping for AGES.”

  Arabella was starting to feel flustered. “Uh, oh hang on,” she said, her face lighting up. “I just remembered something. I’ll be back in a bit,” she said to Ilona. “Come along, Jamie.”

  They hurried across the garden to the house. “I KNEW you’d be thrilled. I did it just for you.” She rummaged in the hall cupboard and, “Da-da!” she cried, holding up a pair of shiny pink sandals.

  “MOM!” shrieked Jamie. “No way, those are Shardonnay’s shoes that got covered in poo. No way am I going out in those.” Jamie folded her arms and glared at her mother.

  “Well, Jamie, beggars can’t be choosers,” snapped Arabella. “They’re lovely sandals. And I washed them. It’s those or nothing. Oh, or these …” Arabella stuck her foot out and showed Jamie one of her beige orthopaedic sandals. “These are super comfortable. You should try them. You might start a new trend.”

  “I’m not wearing your hideous shoes and I’m not wearing Shardonnay’s poo shoes …” Jamie began, when Pan stuck her head round the front door.

  “Hi,” she called. “We’ve been hooting for ages, Jamie, didn’t you hear us?”

  “Aunty Arabella ith making Jamie wear Thardonnay’th poo thhoeth,” Fifi told her helpfully.

  Just then Rodney Bogstripper walked down the stairs carrying a plastic bag on the end of a pair of tongs.

  “Mr Bogstripper, have you found the problem?” asked Arabella. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you from Mrs Barker-Polls.”

  “Indeed I have, Mrs Waine,” he said, holding up the plastic bag like it was Exhibit A in a murder trial. “It seems somebody …” he glared at Jamie … “has thrown numerous pairs of undergarments into the lavatory.”

  “Thith!” shrieked Fifi. “A perthon could get dythentery from that.”

  “Oh my word,” Pan giggled. “Are those your dad’s underpants? Did Bieber flush them down the toilet?”

  Jamie didn’t think it was funny. She snatched up Shardonnay’s shoes
and her bag and marched off to the car.

  Mr Bogstripper was not impressed. He dropped the bag into the bin, reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. “Here is your invoice.”

  Arabella unfolded the bill and looked at it. “Oh my,” she said pulling her glasses off her head and having another look. “Oh my,” she said again rather weakly. “Goodness, Mr Bogstripper, this is quite some bill. I’ll have to give you a cheque.”

  Arabella fumbled in her handbag for her cheque book. This was much more than the two hundred rand their usual plumber charged them. She hoped that she had enough money in her account to cover it. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so much. What did you do to my loo? Give it a bowl transplant?” She giggled weakly.

  Mr Bogstripper pocketed the cheque with a sniff. “This is no joking matter, Mrs Waine.” He picked up his briefcase and marched out of the front door.

  Arabella waited till he’d driven away, then she rescued the bag of underpants from the rubbish bin and popped them into the washing machine. “What the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over,” she muttered. “Prof will never know that his underpants spent a week stuck down the toilet.”

  “Oh thith!” Fifi exclaimed. “That ith tho dithguthting. Uncle David might catth the Ebola viruth from that.”

  10

  My granny’s toenails

  The movie was over and the girls were making their way to the pick-up zone.

  “I can’t wait to ride Oreo this afternoon,” Jamie said. “He’s such a dream. I hardly have to use my legs at all. It’s like I just think about what I want him to do and he does it. We jumped about fifty centimetres yesterday but he’ll easily go higher. AND he can do flying changes. I bet I could go to the World Equestrian Games on him – he’s amazing. If I can’t buy him I’m going to die.”

  “How much are you still short?” Pan asked.

  “I made one thousand five hundred selling all my old stuff,” Jamie said. “But I haven’t got anything left to sell, and I still need almost four thousand rand.”