by Jean Ure
I asked Mum, when I got home, whether she knew a way of making money. She said, “If I did, do you really think I’d still be here?”
I said, “Why? Where would you be?”
“The Bahamas, probably. Look, could you just run upstairs for me and give this parcel to Mrs Mackie? Tell her I took it in for her. OK?”
I said, “Yes, but why the Bahamas?”
“Because it’s sunny.”
“What about me and Dad and Rosie? Where’d we be?”
“Oh, you’d be there as well, talking nineteen to the dozen, as usual! Just go and take that parcel for me, there’s a good girl. And don’t be all day because tea’s ready.”
I said, “How could I be all day, just going up to the next floor?”
“You could,” said Mum. “When that mouth of yours gets going, you could be there half the night!”
I don’t know why everybody thinks I talk a lot. I only talk when there’s stuff to talk about.
I whizzed upstairs with the parcel and hammered at the door of no.12, yelling, “Mrs Mackie, it’s Danielle from downstairs!” This was just so’s she’d know I wasn’t someone wanting to bash her over the head and burgle her. We have quite a lot of burglars living round our way. One of them is Mrs Mackie’s son, Shane, except he’d been put away, or so I thought. I was quite surprised when he opened the door. “Hello, Motormouth! What d’you want?”
I said, “I’ve got a parcel for your mum. And who are you calling Motormouth?”
He said, “You! And don’t be cheeky.”
He really fancies himself, does Shane. Thinks he’s so tough. I’m not scared of him!
I said, “Thought you were away somewhere.”
“Yeah? Well, now I’m back, so you just better watch it. Have a bit of respect for your elders and betters.”
I said, “You’re not that old, and you certainly aren’t better!” And then I shot back down the stairs, double quick.
Shane leant over and bawled after me. “Know what? That tongue of yours is gonna get you into trouble one of these days! I’d button it, if I was you.”
Someone else going on about me. All I was doing was just passing the time of day!
Dad was coming up the stairs as I reached our landing. He said, “What was all that about?”
“Shane Mackie giving me hassle,” I said.
“Which of course you did nothing to provoke?”
I said, “He was the one that started it! He called me Motormouth.”
Dad laughed. “I wonder why?”
I said, “I don’t know. I don’t talk any more than anyone else.”
“No? Try proving it,” said Dad. “See how long you can go without actually saying anything… five minutes is my bet!”
That was when it came to me: my scheme for making money…
CHAPTER FIVE
There are several ways of making money. These are some of the ones I thought of. You could:
Get a job
Win the lottery
Sell something
Go begging
Rob a bank
Ask people to sponsor us
Well, me and Cupcake obviously couldn’t get a job, we were too young. And we couldn’t win the lottery cos we didn’t do it, and even if we did it could be years before we picked the right numbers. If ever. We didn’t have anything worth selling, and our mums would be, like, demented if they heard we’d gone begging, so that really only left two possibilities: we could either rob a bank, or we could ask people to sponsor us.
The problem with robbing a bank – apart, of course, from the fact that it would be a VERY BAD thing to do – was that we had no experience and we’d probably go and get caught, like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. And they’d had loads of experience. I was desperate to get the money for poor little Cookie, but I wasn’t quite ready to start a life of crime. There was only one thing for it – we would have to throw ourselves on people’s mercy and ask them for the money.
“You mean, like, begging?” said Cupcake, when I told her about it the next day.
I said, “No! Not begging. A sponsored silence.” It was such a brilliant idea! I explained to her how it had come to me last night, when Shane had called me Motormouth. “Then Dad said, ‘See how long you can go without actually saying anything.’ And that’s when I thought of it!”
“But how would it make money?” said Cupcake.
“We’d be sponsored… so much a minute.”
Cupcake, as usual, had to go and put a damper on things. “Who’s going to give us money just for keeping quiet?”
I said, “Lots of people, I should think.” The way they all went on about me and my mouth, they ought to be only too happy to pay me for not talking for a bit. I said this to Cupcake, but she wrinkled her nose and said, “Where’d we do it?”
I told her, at school. “So they can keep an eye on us and know we’re not cheating.”
“But suppose we’re in a lesson and one of the teachers asks us a question? Then what do we do?”
I said, “Make like a goldfish!” and I gobbled silently, munching on my lips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Cupcake.
“Means I can’t talk, I’ve lost my voice.”
“Both of us?”
I said, “Yeah! Both of us.”
“I dunno.” Cupcake shook her head. “I can’t see anyone’s going to pay us just for doing nothing.”
“We won’t be doing nothing! We’ll be keeping quiet.”
“It’s still doing nothing.”
“So what d’you suggest? We’ve got to get the money from somewhere! What about your dad? You could try asking your dad!”
Cupcake said that wouldn’t be any good. “He already complains about having to pay Mum for me and Joey.”
“Seriously?” I said. “But he’s your dad.”
“I know.” Cupcake said it sadly. “But he’s got another family now.”
I couldn’t help thinking what a horrible person Cupcake’s dad must be. How could you walk out and leave your own kids? Specially when one of them was sick. I couldn’t imagine my dad ever doing it. Cupcake had told me once that it wasn’t her dad’s fault. “He just couldn’t cope. It upset him too much.” I guess she felt she had to defend him. She probably still loves him, in spite of everything, which is why I always try to be patient with her. I just take a breath and count up to ten. “One… two…” And then I gabble the rest as fast as I can, before she has a chance to go glooming on. “If your dad won’t help, it’ll have to be up to us. We might at least try my idea. Not going to kill us, is it?”
“No. You’re right.” Cupcake nodded. “We’ll do it! We’ll tell everyone we’ve taken a vow of silence.” She beamed. “No talking for one whole day… that’s no big deal!”
Well! Huh. It might not be for some people. Cupcake quite often goes for minutes at a time without speaking. Me, I don’t understand the expression “lost for words”. I have simply crowds of them just bursting to get out!
But we’d taken our vow, and we’d explained to everyone what we were doing it for. “For Cookie, for his operation. And for Joey, cos he just loves him so much.” We swore we wouldn’t utter a single solitary syllable for the entire day. Not a sound would escape from us. Not even an um or an ah. Only if one of the teachers happened to ask us something, and then we would answer, cos we’d have to, but apart from that – zilch! I flicked an imaginary zipper across my lips. A girl called Davina Walker, who has a very suspicious mind, wanted to know who was going to monitor us and make sure we kept to the rules.
I said, “Claire and Livy,” but Davina immediately objected. She said, “They can’t do it! They’re your friends.”
Claire bristled at that. She said, “So what?” Then Livy weighed in. “Are you saying we can’t be trusted?” They almost came to blows before we even began! Some of the boys got excited and thought there was going to be a fight, but Emily Parks told everyone to cool it.
“This is important! We’re trying to help Lisa’s little brother.”
After much heated discussion, it was agreed that Davina would monitor us, along with Emily. Emily is the sort of person who everyone looks up to as she is not only mega brilliant but also very practical. She will end up as a prefect, for sure, if not Head Girl. Me and Cupcake didn’t mind Emily sticking with us all day. We could have done without Davina, who is just a busybody at the best of times, but as Cupcake reminded me, “It’s all in a good cause.”
We’d been going to pin a sheet of paper on the notice board in our classroom so that people could sign their names and say how much they were sponsoring us for, but at the last minute we’d decided against it. We thought one of the teachers might see it and say, “What’s all this about?” Schools are so full of rules and regulations; there was almost bound to be one saying you couldn’t collect money, even for a good cause, without asking for permission. Cupcake wondered whether we should try asking, but I was worried in case they said no, and then our whole plan would be ruined. So we agreed: teachers must be kept out! We explained this to everyone in our class.
“You can all decide how much you want to sponsor us for, and we’ll trust you to be honest about it.”
Davina objected that that was not how it was supposed to be done, but nobody took any notice of her. Emily said, “Everybody who wants to support Dani and Lisa, write down in their rough books how much they’re going to give.”
“It can be as little as you like,” said Cupcake.
“Or as much,” I said. I didn’t want people to be stingy.
“Just imagine,” I said to Cupcake, “if the whole of our year group were to sponsor us!” It could easily happen. Lots of people in our class had said they’d got friends in other classes and would tell them what we were up to. After all, everyone knew Joey and Cookie. “That’d be ninety people,” I said. “All giving us money! And if we manage to do the whole day, that’s – ” I counted on my fingers – “that’s seven hours, which means if everyone gave us a pound an hour, that’d be…”
Well, I didn’t know what it would be as I’m not very good at mental arithmetic, but quite a lot, obviously. Cupcake worked it out on her calculator. She gasped. “£630!”
I said, “Wow.”
We looked at each other.
“Course, I don’t expect everyone will sponsor us,” said Cupcake.
“No, and they won’t all give us a pound an hour,” I agreed. “Still, it looks like we’ll easily raise enough money!”
It is really, really, really, hard to go for seven whole hours without speaking. Usually in class I keep my fingers crossed that the teachers won’t ask me anything, in fact my heart just, like, plummets when they say, “Danielle? Perhaps you could give us the answer?” Cos I almost never can. Games are my thing! Not lessons. Now, when I actually prayed for someone to ask me something, just so that I could do a bit of talking, they all ignored me. Cupcake, too. Halfway through the morning she slipped me a note: I FEEL LIKE SCREAMING. If Cupcake felt like screaming, you can imagine how I felt! I wrote a note back, saying, THINK ABOUT JOEY AND COOKIE.
It was the only way I could stop myself from going mad and screeching. I kept repeating it, over and over. Joey ’n’ Cookie. Cookie ’n’ Joey. I even mouthed it at Cupcake, who nodded, and started mouthing it herself. Davina prodded me in the back and hissed, “You were talking!” I mouthed, “Was not.” At break she told Emily that I’d been “Talking silently”, with my lips. I almost yelled at her, “Lips don’t count!” Fortunately Emily got in first and said that “lip moving” was OK so long as no sound came out. I mouthed, “See?”
“Well, you’d just better watch it,” said Davina, “cos I’ve got my eye on you.”
She had, too. That girl followed us everywhere. She even tried to cram into the loo with me! Then when we went back into the playground she started taunting me about this Year 8 boy who I sort of fancied. I don’t even know how she knew that I fancied him, but she’s one of those people who’s always sticking her sharp, pointy nose in where it doesn’t belong. Like I said, a busybody.
“Ooh, look!” she squealed. “There he is! Shall we call him over? Hey! Scotty! Scott Silverman! Someone wants to talk to you!”
God, I nearly died. It was just so embarrassing! Especially when he actually came over and asked what the problem was.
Davina said, “No problem! Danielle just wanted to talk to you. Go on!” She prodded me. “Say something!”
Cupcake clapped a hand to her mouth. I felt my cheeks go sizzling into the red zone.
“Aah, she’s shy!” crowed Davina.
“What’s going on?” said Scott.
It was Emily who explained that I couldn’t speak. “They’re on a sponsored silence to help Lisa’s little brother keep his dog. He needs an operation and they’re trying to raise money.”
Scott said, “Oh! OK. I’ll give you 50p.”
I shot this triumphant glance at Davina. Her plan had backfired! Not that it stopped her trying. At lunch time me and Cupcake had to point to the dishes we wanted, and just beam and nod, or shake our heads. One of the serving ladies got a bit cross and snapped, “A please or a thank you wouldn’t go amiss!”
Davina immediately prodded me, going, “You might show some manners!”
Then in afternoon break Mrs Todd, who’s like this bug-eyed alien from outer space, absolutely no connection with the human race, bawled at me as we rushed past her: “Danielle Cassidy, do that shoe lace up before you trip over and break your neck, and why are you wearing trainers, anyway?”
Oops! I was wearing trainers cos my school shoes had come apart and I didn’t have any spare ones. But how was I supposed to tell her??? I sent this agonised gaze in Emily’s direction. Yet again, she saved the day. She said, “Oh, Mrs Todd, Dani’s lost her voice, she can’t even croak.”
“Really?” The alien bug eyes raked me up and down. “It still doesn’t explain why she’s wearing trainers. Don’t let me see you in them again!”
And that was when I nearly went and blew it. I just felt so grateful to Emily! I opened my mouth to thank her – and just in time Cupcake screamed out, really loud, and drowned the sound of my voice. Needless to say, Davina got all triumphant and gloaty, and danced up and down waving her fingers in my face. “She spoke! She spoke!”
“She squealed,” said Emily.
“One of them squealed and one of them screamed!” Emily said squealing and screaming was not the same as speaking; it was just making noises.
“But they took a vow of silence!”
“Doesn’t include noises,” said Emily. “It just means not talking.”
“They said not an um or an ah!”
“They didn’t say not a squeal or a screech.”
We had actually promised that not a sound would escape us, but as Emily pointed out, you can’t breathe without sounds escaping. “Can’t expect them to stop breathing.”
Phew! You could tell Davina wasn’t pleased. She’d really wanted to catch me out, she was that sort of person, but nobody, not even Davina, argued with Emily. Emily was far too clever. I said later to Cupcake, though, that it had been a bad moment.
“Cos I did speak. I got as far as Th— and then you screeched and covered it up. That was quick thinking, that was!”
Cupcake glowed. I suppose I’m usually more likely to be nagging at her to get a move on or make up her mind than congratulate her for speedy thinking. I said, “You don’t suppose it counts as cheating, do you?”
“Probably,” said Cupcake, “but I don’t care! I don’t care about anything so long as Cookie can have his operation and get better.”
I said, “Tomorrow everyone’ll give us their money and then we can tell your mum to go ahead.”
“Yes, cos we should have oodles,” said Cupcake.
We’d asked everyone to pay us at the end of school. I said, “We’ll wait at the gates with carrier bags!”
We had one big Sainsbury’s
bag and one from Tesco’s, and as people came by we held them out for them to put their money in. Cupcake’s mum, who hadn’t known what we were up to, got a bit fussed. She kept saying, “I’m not sure this is right! I’m not sure you ought to be doing this.”
Cupcake said, “Mum, we’re not forcing anyone.”
“No, it’s absolutely voluntary,” I said.
It didn’t stop her fussing. She said it was “Still asking people for money.” Well, of course it was! That was the whole point. There’s nothing actually illegal about asking people to give money to a good cause; not as far as I know. It’s not like we were pointing a gun at them, or anything. I think Cupcake’s mum is quite an anxious sort of person, and that’s where Cupcake gets it from. Fortunately, lots of people dragged their mums over to us and asked them to make a donation, and after that Mrs Costello got a bit happier and decided maybe it was all right.
“Now all we’ve got to do is count it,” gloated Cupcake, as we staggered home with Joey nursing not only Cookie but two big bulging bags of coins on his lap.
We emptied the bags on to the kitchen table and got to work, me and Cupcake and Joey. Joey collected up the notes and the pound coins, cos there weren’t so many of them; me and Cupcake did the rest, piling coins into little columns at one end of the table. Cupcake said she had never seen so much money.
“Cookie money,” said Joey.
“There must be hundreds!” Exultantly, I completed yet another column of 2p pieces. They marched up and down the table in rows. Stack after stack of them.
“Got to be more than enough,” said Cupcake.
But there wasn’t! When we added up all the notes, and all the little piles, it only came to £73. It wasn’t anywhere near enough! We needed four times that amount.
I cried, “Those mean, skinflinty people!” Most of them had obviously only given us about 5p an hour. Quite a lot of them hadn’t given us anything at all. “You’d think they could do better than that!”
“One or two said they’d pay us tomorrow,” offered Cupcake.
“One or two’s not going to do any good!”