by Jean Ure
I said, “Yeah, it was that Microdot…she found a mark on her dress and had to have it washed. Said it was the only thing she could possibly wear. Personally I reckon she’d do better in a bin bag.”
The Herb looked across to where the Microdot was peacocking around, doing little twirls and showing off.
“It’s pink,” she said. I said, “Tell me about it!”
“At least mine’s not pink.”
“No, yours is OK,” I said. “Yours is blue.” And then, absolutely without meaning to, I added, “Matches your eyes.” And then I blushed, furiously, and so did the Herb.
“It was my mum,” she said. “She made me wear it. Stupid thing!”
I said, “What, your mum?”
“No! The stupid dress.”
“It’s nice,” I said. And then, of course, I blushed even more, cos I’ve never in my life said anything soppy like that to the Herb.
She snarled, “It’s not nice, it’s stupid. I hate wearing dresses!”
That was when Mum came over. “Hallo, Rosie!” she said. “You’re looking very attractive!”
Mum shouldn’t have said that. Poor old Herb! She scowled so hard her face went all scrunched and puckered like one of next door’s garden gnomes. Even then, Mum didn’t know when to stop.
“Lovely to see you in a dress, for a change! You should do it more often,” she said.
Mum can be really tactless at times.
The party went on all day. The best bit was the food. Long tables all covered in it, down one whole side of the hall. You could just stand and eat non-stop, if you had the room. Me and the Herb kept meeting up by the sausage rolls and the little bits of things on sticks. Normally we’d have stuck together, cos me and the Herb, we’re never short of stuff to talk about. Not normally, we’re not. Today, I dunno why, we both got tongue-tied. It was the dress that did it: the Herb didn’t seem like the Herb any more. She seemed more like—well. Like a girl. And I don’t know how to talk to girls!
It made me think glumly that maybe the Microdot was right: maybe I am seriously weird. Nobody else seems to have these problems. Not even Aaron. Not even Joe and Calum. Not even Will, in spite of his spots. Ever since we arrived he’d been busy chatting up this girl that was the granddaughter of a great, great something or other. Aunt, uncle, cousin; whatever. She and Will were really hitting it off. She kept beaming at him, and making her eyes go all big. I felt pleased for Will, cos I knew how anxious he’d been, but I couldn’t help wondering what he was saying to her. What did he find to talk about? I wouldn’t know where to begin!
I grabbed a handful of sausage rolls and stood eating them behind a nearby pillar, trying to listen in—not to eavesdrop, just to learn—but Will caught sight of me and got a bit vicious. He told me to “Go and stuff yourself somewhere else, can’t you? Spitting crumbs all over the place!” So I went back to the other side of the room where I found the Herb mooching about by herself, still scowling. I said, “Look at Will and that girl. What d’you think they’re talking about?”
“No idea,” said the Herb.
She definitely wasn’t in a communicative mood.
At six o’clock the party broke up. A few of us—Gran and Granddad, Uncle Clive and Auntie Jess, me and the Herb, Mum and Dad and the Microdot, plus a couple of ancients—went back to the Herb’s house. Will did not come with us.
“Where’s he gone?” I said.
“He’s got a girlfriend,” said the Microdot. “Her name’s Barney. She’s really nice.”
I said, “But he only met her this morning!”
“So what?” said the Microdot.
I hadn’t realised it could happen that quickly. Will must be a really fast worker!
“I did his profile last night,” said the Microdot. “He scores practically top marks for being sociable. I’m still working on yours.”
“I know,” I said. “You told me.”
“I’ll probably finish it some time tomorrow. It doesn’t look—where are you going?”
“Going to find the Herb,” I said.
“But I’m talking to you!”
“Too bad. Talk to me some other time.”
The Herb was in the kitchen with Auntie Jess. They had obviously been having some kind of a disagreement cos I heard Auntie Jess say, “…doesn’t hurt you just for once,” in quite cross tones. And then I came in and she snatched up a tray full of plates and glasses and went swishing out into the hall.
The Herb was standing by the sink. Scowling.
“Something wrong?” I said.
“What is wrong,” said the Herb, “is that a person can’t wear what a person wants to wear…it’s like living in a police state! All I said was could I get out of this puke-making dress now, and she goes raving berserk. I bought that dress specially, surely for once you could make me proud of you… I’ve been stuck in the stupid thing all day! I’m sick of it.”
It didn’t seem quite the moment for telling her it looked pretty. I had this feeling she wouldn’t react too well. I didn’t want to get whacked.
“Will’s gone off with that girl,” I said. “Her name’s Barney, she—”
“Let’s you and me go off!” The Herb grabbed the back door handle and wrenched the door open. “Let’s go round your place and dig!”
“What,” I said, “now?”
“Yes, now! You want to find a trib’lite, don’t you? Well, come on, then!”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me after her, into the garden. We scooted round the side and out through the front gate, up the road and round the corner. We didn’t stop till we reached Warrington Crescent. The back gate was locked, so we had to climb over.
“Just do it quietly,” I whispered, “or you’ll get the dogs barking.”
Giggling, the Herb hoisted herself up.I opened my mouth to say, “Watch your dress,” but I wasn’t quite brave enough. I did feel a bit alarmed when she galloped ahead of me up the garden and jumped straight down into the hole, but then I jumped into the hole with her and we got digging, and I forgot she was all dressed up. She was just good old Herb, same as usual.
We dug and we dug, more than we’ve ever dug before. We uncovered a bit of old iron, and an interesting piece of flint, but nothing of real significance (as we professionals say).
“No trib’lites,” said the Herb.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “It was still fun.”
We stood there, knee deep, in the hole.
“You thought it was fun,” I said, “didn’t you?” I was suddenly anxious to know. I would have hated to think she had only been humouring me all this time. “What I mean is…do you really actually enjoy it?”
She said, “Course I do! Better ’n being stuck indoors, any rate.”
It made me happy when she said that. Eagerly I told her that I was going to ask Dad if I could get rid of the compost heap. “Then we can start another one!”
“Another compost heap?”
“Another hole.”
“Oh! Right.”
“If I do,” I said, “d’you want to come and dig it with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll come and dig it with you,” said the Herb.
“I won’t ask Lottie! Not if you’d rather I didn’t. And maybe I won’t bother asking Aaron, either. Maybe it’ll just be our hole, that we dig together.”
The Herb said, “Our very own hole.”
“Yeah! What d’you reckon?”
“I reckon that would be really neat,” said the Herb. “A hole of our own.” And then, for absolutely no reason that I could see, she gave this great shriek of laughter.
I said, “What? What’s funny?”
“You are!” said the Herb.
The Herb has always had this strange sense of humour. She laughs at the oddest things. Rather sternly I asked her if she knew that she had got mud all over her dress. “Great gobbets of it.”
“So what?” she said. “It’s only a stupid dress.”
“But it’s all over,” I said.
“And I think you’ve gone and torn it, as well.”
“Torn it?” That got to her. “Where? Where?”
“At the back,” I said.
She spun round, trying to see it. “Omigod!” Her voice came out in a strangulated squawk. “Mum’ll go ballistic!”
It’s the first time I have ever, ever known the Herb come close to panic. She is just not a panicky sort of person. But I know what it’s like when mums go ballistic. It’s like, everyone scatter! Mum on the warpath!
“She’ll kill me,” wailed the Herb. “She’ll say I did it on purpose!”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll tell her it was my fault.”
“She’ll never believe you!”
“She will, I’ll make her. I’ll say it was all my idea, we had to come and dig before Dad took his bit of garden back. They’ll go for that. They all think I’m mad and geeky. Everybody does.”
“I don’t,” said the Herb. “I sometimes think you’re a bit mad, but I’ve never thought you were geeky. If you were geeky you wouldn’t be offering to sacrifice yourself.”
Sacrifice. That was a good word.
“Deeje, you can’t,” said the Herb. “I won’t let you!”
“Got no choice,” I said. “Gonna do it whether you let me or not.”
In my dream I’d rescued her from rampaging beetles. Now I was rescuing her from the wrath of Auntie Jess—which I reckon was just as heroic, in its own way, cos Mum had a right go at me later. “How could you?” and “Totally inconsiderate!” and “So ashamed of you,” etc. She was pretty damn mad.
Carelessly I told the Herb it was no big deal. “Just leave it to me. I’ll sort things out.”
“You’re serious,” said the Herb. “You really mean it!” Suddenly, without any warning, she lunged forward and squashed my face between her hands. Before I knew what she was doing, she had planted a big kiss on my lips—well, partly on my lips. I think I must have moved at the wrong moment, cos part of it went on my nose. “Oh, Deeje, that is so sweet of you!” she said.
No one has ever told me that I’m sweet before; it kind of knocked me out. Specially coming from the Herb, cos she’s not into soppy talk. I think it knocked her out a bit, too. We stood there together in the hole, like wondering what had hit us. In the end I said rather gruffly that maybe we ought to be getting back now. I don’t know why I said it gruffly; it’s just the way it came out.
“I mean, we could stay on a bit,” I said, “’cept I don’t want them getting any madder than they’re already gonna be.”
The Herb said, “No.
Absolutely not!” As we were walking back up the Crescent, she took my hand. The Herb. Holding my hand! I always thought she’d be angrier than a hornet if I tried doing that.
“I’m really sorry we didn’t find any trib’lites,” she said.
I told her that it really didn’t matter. And it really didn’t; not at that moment.
I’m thinking now that I still would like to find some. But maybe Dad will let me dig under the compost heap—and the Herb will be there to help me. cos she enjoys it! She said she did.
We won’t dig all of the time, of course. I mean, there are other things in life, such as going up the park, for instance. I reckon we’ll probably be going up the park quite a lot. If the Herb wants to, that is. But I think she will! That is definitely the feeling I have.
I’m glad I didn’t let Auntie Jess get mad at her, even if it did mean suffering the cruel lash of Mum’s tongue. It’s made me feel a lot less geeky.
Also by Jean Ure
Gone Missing
Over the Moon
Boys Beware
Sugar and Spice
Is Anybody There?
Secret Meeting
Passion Flower
Shrinking Violet
Boys on the Brain
Skinny Melon and Me
Becky Bananas, This is Your Life!
Fruit and Nutcase
The Secret Life of Sally Tomato*
Family Fan Club
special three-in-one editions
The Tutti-Frutti Collection
The Flower Power Collection
The Friends Forever Collection
and for younger readers
Dazzling Danny
Daisy May
Monster in the Mirror
*Also available on tape, read by John Pickard
Copyright
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2007 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollinschildrensbooks.co.uk
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Text © Jean Ure 2007
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Conditions of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
EPub Edition © AUGUST 2009 ISBN: 978-0-007-34360-7
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