Hunky Dory

by Jean Ure

  Tuesday

  Well, he came—and he was on time. That is about as much as I can say. We had a really good dig, but no thanks at all to either Aaron or the Herb. They both behaved rather stupidly.

  Aaron turned up wearing a saucepan on his head. He told the Herb it was in case she started whacking him again, so then of course she had to pick up a trowel and threaten him with it and next thing I know they’re pelting round the garden with five Jack Russells in hot pursuit and all the cats sitting crouched in their chalets watching as they race past. I had to really bawl at them before they took any notice. I don’t like to come on heavy, but sometimes they just leave you with no alternative.

  “I thought we were here to dig?”

  “Dig! Yes. Dig!” shouted the Herb. Even then she couldn’t resist taking one last whack at the saucepan.

  “Now look what you done,” said Aaron. “You’ve gone and put a dent in it!”

  If I hadn’t got between them they’d have set off all over again. It seems they just get very silly when they’re together. Very childish. Aaron kept yelling “Great galloping grandmothers!” for absolutely no reason at all, which I found quite annoying. It’s my catch phrase, not his.

  He also cried “Great dollops of dog dirt!” Again for no reason. I told him that there couldn’t be any dog dirt since the dogs weren’t allowed in, but he said it was just an expression.

  “Great dollops of dog dirt! Like great galloping grandmothers! Same thing.”

  “Like this,” said the Herb; and she bent herself double and began galloping in slow-motion on the spot. “See! Look! I’m a galloping granny!”

  “And I’m a galloping granddad!”

  They giggled and galloped until I told them very sternly to “Either stop it or get out”. So they stopped. Only to start up again about two seconds later when Aaron suddenly took it into his head to bellow, “GREEN GROLLIES!” at the top of his voice. I looked at him, rather hard. He obviously felt my displeasure.

  “It’s just another expression,” he said. “Like, you know! If you were walking down the road for example and saw an elephant coming towards you, you’d go GREEN GROLLIES! you’d go. Sort of, like, to show your amazement. An elephant! Green grollies!”

  “On toast,” said the Herb. “Here, have some!”

  So then they’re both pretending to eat, making these disgusting sucking, slurping noises. Yum yum, gurgle guzzle, slippy-slimy puke.

  They carried on like this the whole time. I don’t know why the Herb got so silly; it’s not like her. I mean, she can be a bit disrespectful sometimes, making jokes and sending me up, but never this bad. Fortunately her gnome-like friend was there. Lottie. She is a really good worker! Really interested in learning how to dig. I mean, how to dig properly, like a professional. She did everything I told her. No fuss, no smart mouth. Plus she kept checking with me that she was doing it right. Not like Aaron, or even the Herb; they just go at it. Lottie dug really carefully, I was very pleased with her. I made sure, at the end, to let her know. I told her she had worked extremely well, and she gave me this big beam and said that she had enjoyed it. Aaron and the Herb have never said they enjoyed it.

  Lottie is obviously a very intelligent, sensitive person, in spite of looking like a garden gnome. I said I hoped she would come again, and she said, “Oh, I will! I’d love to!” The Herb, for some reason, scowled. I don’t know what her problem is.

  Wednesday

  At school this morning Aaron said to me, “Y’know that Lottie? I reckon she fancies you.”

  I told him not to be ridiculous. He said, “I’m not being! She fancies you. ‘S obvious. Way she kept looking at you…oooh, Dory!” He clasped his hands under his chin and made his voice go all high and flutey. “Am I doing it right, Dory? Is this how I’m s’pposed to do it, Dory? Tell me, Dory!”

  I said, “She just wanted to help, is all.”

  Aaron said, “Up a rat’s bum!” This is another of his totally meaningless expressions. He told me that I simply wasn’t switched on. He said I obviously didn’t know the first thing about girls.

  “You know about bones and stuff. Fossils and stuff. But when it comes to real everyday sort of stuff you don’t know zilch.”

  He has some nerve! If I know zilch, he knows double zilch. Triple zilch. I wish he wouldn’t talk in this stupid kind of way. I don’t want to be fancied! Anyhow, I don’t think she does; Lottie, I mean. She is genuinely interested in learning how to conduct a real professional dig. This is what Aaron can’t understand. Just because he doesn’t have any interest, he finds it impossible to believe that anyone else can.

  Thursday

  Wasn’t able to do any digging at all today. Aaron offered to come round (I think he’s feeling guilty after the way he behaved on Tuesday) but I had to say no. Wee Scots is going home tomorrow and wanted to take us all out for dinner. She said it would be nice if just for once we could eat together as a family, instead of in “wee dribs and drabs”. Mum said, “Hear, hear!” which I think was a bit hypocritical (if that is the word) considering the number of times she jumps up in the middle of a meal to see to some crisis with a cat. People ring all times of the day and night, expecting her to drop everything and go rushing off, and she always does.

  I begged her to let me dig for just an hour and then come to the restaurant by myself—“I can find my way! I know where it is. It’s really urgent that I get some digging done”—but Mum wouldn’t hear of it. She said, “It’s your gran’s last night and she wants us all to be together. You can do your digging tomorrow.”

  This is yet another instance of my family not taking me seriously. They seem to think I am digging a hole just for fun. But I’m not! I’m in training for my future. Why can’t they see this?

  We walked into town through the nature reserve so that Wee Scots could have a look at all the trees and the grass and stuff. She and Mum walked on ahead, with the Microdot bouncing beside them (showing off, and twirling) leaving me and Dad to amble together in a kind of manly companionship, stern and quiet. somewhere behind. Quite a long way behind, actually, shambling pigeon-toed with his head down, trying to make like he wasn’t with us. He’s going through what Mum calls “an awkward phase”. She says it’s something to

  do with his spots, and him being convinced that no girl will ever look twice at him. Wee Scots says that he must be patient. One of these days he will come into his own.

  “He’ll be a hunk the same as wee Dory…you see! The lasses will go crazy for him.” I just wish they’d go crazy for him now and leave me alone.

  Thinking of girls, whilst strolling manfully by Dad’s side, I took the opportunity to ask a question which I had been wanting to ask for some time.

  “You know when you and Mum were young?” I said.

  “It’s going back a bit,” said Dad. “But yes, I think I can just about remember it.”

  “Did Mum ever act all silly?” Dad said, “Depends what you mean by silly.”

  “Well, like…giggling, and—and touching, and—coming and breathing over you.”

  “Oh! That sort of silly.” Dad chuckled. “Yes, she did that all right.”

  “What, Mum?”

  “You’d better believe it!”

  “And you didn’t mind?”

  “I didn’t mind,” said Dad.

  “It didn’t upset you?”

  “I can’t say that it did.”

  “D’you think Wee Scots ever acted silly?”

  “I’d say she probably acted even sillier than your mum!”

  “What about Big Nan?”

  “Big Nan…no.” Dad shook his head. “I can’t somehow see her, can you?”

  “Had more sense,” I said.

  “Yes. Well! I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

  I was about to ask him what other way there was when a piercing shriek rang out: “Willy? Where’s ma Willy?”

  It was like the whole of the nature reserve just froze. Me and Dad both spun round, think
ing that maybe Will had suddenly disappeared, but he was still there, shambling along behind us. A little kid, walking nearby with his mum, tugged at her sleeve and squeaked, “That woman called that man Willy!” His mum immediately went, “Sh!” and Will’s face turned scarlet. He looked like an over-ripe tomato with purple blotches. I felt really embarrassed for him. I know Wee Scots means well, and I do love her, I love her quite a lot, but I am kind of glad she is going home tomorrow. It was very cruel, what she did to Will. Maybe up in Glasgow it is perfectly normal to screech “Where’s wee Willy?” at the top of your voice, but I think she should remember that she is in England, now. Things are different here.

  I felt quite sorry for Will. I felt that I wanted to comfort him in some way, so I let Dad go on ahead and waited for Will to catch up.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said. “You know all those girls I was going on about?”

  I was remembering the conversation I’d had with him, when I complained that they wouldn’t leave me alone. Suddenly I could understand why he’d got so mad at me. It must have seemed like I was boasting.

  “You know I said how they kept coming and looming over me and everything?”

  “Did you?” said Will. “I can’t remember.”

  “Yes, well, I did. Cos they do! And what I was thinking…I was thinking maybe I could sort of, like. pass them on to you. Know what I mean?”

  Will said, “No, I don’t know what you mean, you patronising little turd! You think I want your cast-offs?”

  “Some of them’s quite pretty,” I said. “Sheri Stringer, f’r instance. Lots of boys fancy Sheri Stringer.”

  “So think yourself lucky!”

  “Yeah, but I’m not interested,” I said. “I got other things on my mind. It seems like kind of a waste.”

  “I’ll kind of waste you,” said Will, “if you don’t belt up!”

  All I was doing was just trying to help. He didn’t talk to me for the whole of the rest of the evening. He didn’t talk to anyone very much. Wee Scots must have really upset him.

  Friday

  Wee Scots went home this morning and I find that now she has gone I quite miss her. Whenever we got home from school she always used to ask us what we’d been up to.

  “And what have ye learned today, laddie?” Or lassie, if it were the Microdot. And then she’d want to test us on stuff that she’d learned when she was at school, like dates for instance. She was really obsessed by dates!

  “All right, laddie! The battle of Bannockburrrrn…when was it? Quickly, now! Ye shouldna have tae think.”

  I quite enjoy a few dates myself, in fact I am rather good at them, but I have never even heard of the battle of Bannockburn. Wee Scots used to do her nut.

  “Och, awa wi’ ye! What do they teach you at this school of yours?”

  It got so that me and the Microdot, if we arrived home together, started taking it in turns which of us went in at the front and which of us sneaked round the back.

  Today when I got in the house was empty. Dad was out delivering some garden furniture, and there was a note from Mum stuck to the fridge saying “Gone to pick up cat. Back soon”. I went outside and looked at the mothball necklaces that Wee Scots had made to stop the Russells using the trees as lavatories. I felt really fond of her! She may be the granny from hell, but she is lots more fun than Big Nan.

  Dug for an hour; just me and the Herb. The Herb unearthed an unusual bit of rock with a hole going through it. It’s not what you’d call important, but it is quite interesting. The Herb got excited and cried, “Is it a trib’lite?” I said, “No, it’s just a bit of rock.”

  “Well, thank you,” said the Herb. “All my hard work!”

  I didn’t mean to be ungrateful; I just didn’t seem to be in a hole-digging mood. I’d have liked to suggest we went up the park again, but ever since I had my dream I’ve been feeling self-conscious. Like suppose I suddenly lost control and made a grab at her? At her hand, I mean. She’d go ballistic! She’d bash me, for sure. Not that I’m scared of being bashed, I’m not a wimp like Aaron; I just don’t like the thought of the Herb getting mad at me. Somehow the hole seems safer than the park. When I’m digging, I’m focused. It’s only walking round the park I have these odd feelings.

  Anyway, we weren’t supposed to be alone; Aaron and Lottie were supposed to be helping. Aaron did actually turn up, but he said he couldn’t stop, he had things to do. He didn’t say what things.

  “Guess he’s walking the imaginary dog,” I said.

  “He’s gone soft,” said the Herb. “Soft and soppy!”

  I said that he had been all right up until just a few weeks ago. “Then all of a sudden he seemed to go peculiar.”

  “That’s the way it happens,” said the Herb. “Just suddenly. It’s like getting the flu…one minute you’re normal, the next you’re struck down.”

  People get over the flu; maybe Aaron will get over Sophy Timms. I am not very hopeful, however. When I suggested it to the Herb she said that now he’d been stricken he’d probably stay that way.

  “Even if he gets over her, there’ll be others. There isn’t any cure.”

  I wish she hadn’t told me that! Aaron is my best mate. The thought of him being permanently stricken is quite upsetting.

  To change the subject, I asked the Herb what had happened to Lottie. She said, “Nothing’s happened to her. Why do you want to know?”

  There was a definite note of aggression in her voice. Nervously—cos you can never be sure, with girls, what you might have said to upset them, even the Herb—I explained that I was just asking.

  “She seemed like she was genuinely interested.”

  The Herb said, “In what? Digging?” and gave this sarcastic bray of laughter.

  I said, “Well—yeah. Like she really wanted

  “I told her not to bother.”

  “Oh.” I said oh because it was the only thing which immediately occurred to me. The Herb didn’t say anything; just went on shovelling earth with her trowel. “Could have done with an extra pair of hands,” I said. “I mean, like, if we’re going to get anywhere before Dad wants his bit of garden back.”

  She still didn’t say anything. Just pursed her lips and went on shovelling. “I mean, if Aaron’s not going to be coming any more…why did you tell her not to bother, anyway?”

  “If you really want to know—” the Herb was going at it like crazy, shovelling for all she was worth “—if you really have to know, it’s cos she’s starting to get silly about you and I know you don’t like that sort of thing. So there! Now I’ve told you. Now you can stop wittering.”

  I found that really hurtful. I don’t witter. “All I care about,” I said, “is getting the work done.”

  “Yes, and all she cares about,” said the Herb, “is making eyes at you.”

  “But she’s your friend!”

  “That’s why I told her to stay away.” The Herb was bent over her trowel, her face bright red with the effort she was putting in. “You can do that sort of thing with friends. They understand.”

  I said, “I don’t!”

  “No, well, you’re a boy,” said the Herb.

  That is the first time she has ever said anything like that to me. You’re a boy. It hasn’t ever mattered before! I’ve just been me. The Herb’s just been the Herb. I don’t know what to make of all this.

  I have come upstairs with my piece of rock. I am going to examine it most carefully. When I have examined it I shall make some notes and put it with the rest of the artefacts.

  There is something very soothing about a piece of rock.

  Eight

  Saturday

  Questions

  No.1 What is the thing you would most like to acheeve by the end of the year?

  The latest of her cruddy little tests. She assured me that it was going to be the last one, so I said that it had better be, as I was getting quite sick of them.

  She said, “It is. I told you.”

  I said, �
�Yeah, well, it had better be.” I then pointed out that in fact the first question was a total nonsense since there isn’t any such word as acheeve. I suggested that maybe she meant achieve, spelt with an i and an e.

  She shrieked, “That’s anelephant!”

  I said, “It could be a kangaroo, it’s still spelt wrong.”

  She was silent for about two seconds (which is practically a record), then in irritable tones she said, “What are you going on about kangaroos for?”

  I said, “Well, you were going on about elephants.”

  “Anelephant. It doesn’t matter how it’s spelt, it’s completely anelephant!”

  That was when it struck me: she meant irrelevant. It cracked me up so much I was bent almost double and couldn’t speak for laughing.

  Angrily, she said, “You’re anelephant! You’re a total waste of space!”

  I felt a bit mean, then, cos she’d gone all red and puckered. She hates it if she thinks someone’s making fun of her.

  I said, “Oh, give me the stupid thing!” and snatched it from her. “You don’t have to watch,” I said. “I’ll show you when I’ve finished.”

  “Well, but you’ve got to take it seriously.”

  I said that I would, as I still felt guilty for laughing at her. I guess irrelevant is quite a big word if you’re only ten years old.

  This is how I answered:

  Question: What is the thing you would most like to acheeve by the end of the year?

  Answer: Find a dinosaur egg.

  Question: Who is the person you would most like to acheeve it with?

  Answer: The Herb.

  Question: What is the thing you would most like to happen to you?

  Answer: Go back in time and see a real live dinosaur.

  Question: If you had one wish for humanity, what would it be?

  Answer: That girls would stop giggling.

  Question: Would you rather eat dog dirt or go out with Linzi?

  “Answer it,” she said, “answer it!”

  “You didn’t get that one out of a magazine,” I said.