by Maggi Gibson
‘Spare parts,’ Cordelia says quickly as she lays the dolly bits to one side. ‘I liked playing at surgeons when I was little. Unfortunately some of my … err … patients, didn’t quite survive.’
I volunteer to be the earthquake victim. Megan wraps a bandage round my head while Cordelia bandages up my leg. Then Megan finds a triangular bandage for an arm sling and Cordelia rushes off to the garden shed and comes back with an ancient pair of cobweb-covered crutches her mum once had when she broke her ankle. In no time at all I’m transformed from a healthy, happy-go-lucky schoolgirl, into a one-person-disaster-area.
Cordelia and Megan stand back to admire their handiwork.
‘Just two more things,’ Cordelia says and rushes out to the back garden again, this time reappearing with a small plant pot full of earth.
‘Here, smear this over your face a bit,’ she instructs. Then she disappears through to her mum’s shop. Moments later she comes back with four or five dark red phials. ‘Fake blood!’ she cackles, as she squirts it at my bandages.
‘Right. That’s you all ready now,’ Cordelia says at last. ‘Take a look in the mirror up in my room.’
With some difficulty – my left leg is so tightly bandaged I can hardly move it – I hobble upstairs and into Cordelia’s room. I almost faint when I see my reflection. What a mess!
‘Brilliant!’ I say as I hobble back into the kitchen. ‘If nothing else this should put Magnus Menzies right off me!’
‘Sindi-Sue just texted.’ Megan picks up a couple of buckets. ‘She’ll be outside Paradiso’s in ten minutes.’
‘And so will we,’ I grin, leaning heavily on my crutches. ‘Let’s go! We’re bound to get lots of people to give to us now!’
Paradiso’s is mobbed with tons of mums dragging tired, hungry kids around after them. We meet up with Magnus, Midge, Beano and Sindi-Sue by the trolley park and plan our strategy.
The best time to catch people, Magnus figures, is after they’ve done their shopping, when they return to their cars in the car park. ‘Nobody wants to be bothered on the way in,’ he reasons, cos they just want to get their shopping over and done with. But if we catch them as they get back to their cars, the kids have usually been bought off with sweets or crisps, and cos they’re all heading home they’re in a better mood.’
I think about arguing with Magnus, just for the sake of it. Then I remember my resolution to be a better person, so I button it.
‘OK!’ Cordelia picks up her bucket, ‘Let’s get started.’ She spots a woman with a trolley piled high with shopping and a little kid trailing after her. We watch admiringly as Cordelia catches up with them just as they reach a four-wheel drive.
‘Earthquake Disaster Fund. Please give generously,’ Cordelia smiles, pushing her bucket under the woman’s nose.
The kid stares up at Cordelia. ‘You’re freaky!’ he giggles.
‘Into the car, Felix!’ the woman snaps as she dumps her shopping in the boot. ‘And how many times do I have to tell you not to speak to strangers!’ Then she gets in and revs her engine and roars off, almost running over Cordelia’s toes.
Cordelia shrugs and heads towards a man in a business suit who’s just opening the door of his sports car. With a charming smile she pushes her bucket towards him.
‘Sorry, love,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I only carry plastic. Not got a penny on me.’
The rest of us don’t do much better. I hobble over to a fat baldy man with tattoos and shake my bucket under his nose. ‘Earthquake in Pakistan,’ I say sweetly. ‘Please give generously.’
‘And what’s anyone from Pakistan ever done to help me?’ he scowls.
‘I don’t want to be rude,’ I splutter. ‘But personally I don’t think you should have to check what nationality someone is before you decide whether or not to help them!’ I turn on my heel and hobble off.
‘It’s not going to be quite as easy as we thought,’ Cordelia sighs as she comes back over to where Magnus, Sindi-Sue, Beano, Megan and me are once more huddled in a group. ‘When people are near their cars it’s too easy for them to get in and drive away.’
‘I think we should try right outside the main doors,’ Megan says. ‘People sometimes still have their purses in their hands as they come out, so it’s not so hard for them to cough up some change.’
‘Yeah,’ says Magnus. ‘And Sassy should be more … more … visible. Like more upfront. More dramatic. I mean, maybe you could lie on the ground and kind of pretend like you’re really injured.’
‘Yeah, like you on the football field!’ The words slip out before I can stop them.
‘Exactly!’ Magnus laughs. ‘I’m sure a great performer like you can manage that.’
So we all head over to the sliding exit doors. It’s true there are tons more people there. In fact the whole place is even busier now than when we first arrived. So I take up a position on the paving slabs and lie down, writhing and moaning while the others circulate with their buckets.
‘This is great!’ Megan grins after five minutes. ‘Look, I’ve got three quid already!’ She rattles her bucket and two little girls come skipping over and drop a scattering of silver coins in.
So I step up my performance a bit, moaning and holding my hands out like I’ve seen victims do in films. And it’s all going really well, when a big pair of black boots appears beside my face. I look up. Above the black boots are black trousers; above the black trousers, a black jerkin. I pull myself up to a sitting position. A big red face scowls down at me. Oh no! It’s a Paradiso’s security guard!
‘And what exactly do you think you’re doing, young lady?’ he asks. Which really annoys me. I mean, why do grown-ups always address you in an over-polite way when they quite clearly are not actually being polite at all?
‘Isn’t it kind of obvious?’ I look around desperately for Cordelia and the others, who seem to have suddenly vanished.
He purses his lips and shakes his head slowly.
‘I’m injured,’ I say, with what I hope is a winning smile. ‘Quite badly, actually. You know, broken leg, dislocated shoulder, massive internal injuries. That’s why I’m lying on the ground. I’ve been in an earthquake.’
‘And which earthquake would that be?’ the guard asks drily. ‘Can’t say I noticed it.’ He chortles at his own wit.
‘The one in North Pakistan,’ I reply.
By this point a small crowd of shoppers has gathered round. I have a horrible flashback to the last run-in I had with a Paradiso’s security guard. But, I remind myself, it was Mum who got us into hot water that time. I wasn’t to blame. And that security guard was called Bill. This one – I strain to see his name badge – is Bob.
Bob stops pursing his lips and smiles, and I’m thinking, gosh, wonders will never cease – a Paradiso’s security guard with a social conscience!
I reach for my collection bucket and push it towards him. ‘Would you like to give?’ I say hopefully. ‘Generously?’
‘I think you’ll find, young lady,’ he says, his smile fading, ‘that the Pakistani earthquake affected a five-hundred-mile radius. And unless I’m much mistaken, Scotland escaped unscathed.’
Just then three things happen.
One: another security guard comes striding out of the store.
Two – and this is the bad bit: I recognize him. It’s Bill.
Three – and this is the REALLY bad bit: Bill recognizes me, his face darkens and his mouth sets itself in a hard line.
‘YOU!’ he exclaims. ‘Not blind any more, I see. Oh, and crutches this time! Pretending to be dis-abled, are we?’
‘But …’ I begin, looking around desperately for my so-called friends to back me up. ‘It�
�s not the way it looks … You don’t understand …’
Bill hauls me roughly to my feet. ‘I understand only too well. You types! I suppose your mother’s lurking somewhere in your rickety van, waiting for you to get back with a bucketload of cash, eh?’ He scans the car park. ‘Looks like she’s deserted you this time! I think you’d better come with me, young lady.’
And before I can object, he bundles me into the store and towards a door marked SECURITY.
The next ten minutes are like something from a nightmare – the kind you try to wake up from but can’t. Bill shoves me on to a chair and glowers fiercely at me.
‘Maybe her mum felt a bit hard up,’ Bill says sarcastically. ‘So she thought up a neat wheeze. Dress the kid up as an earthquake victim. Get good, kind people to cough up their hard-earned dosh. Then skedaddle off to the shops on a spending spree.’
I open my mouth to protest, then close it again. They’ve not believed anything I’ve told them so far, so why would I expect them to start listening now? And I can’t tell them who I REALLY am, can I? I mean, how’s it going to look when they find out my dad’s the local MP?
Bob makes a quick phone call. Within minutes two policemen appear.
‘Trying to get money by extortion is a very serious business,’ the taller policeman says as he inspects the bucket with its handmade sign. ‘Let’s see. You don’t have a licence to collect. You don’t have permission from Paradiso’s to be on their property. And you’re not connected to any official charity. So what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I refuse to say anything till I’ve spoken to my lawyer,’ I say desperately, cos I remember hearing something like that in a film once. ‘I want to exercise my right to silence. I invoke the Fourth Amendment.’
The police officers roll their eyes. Bill and Bob laugh heartily. ‘This isn’t some cop film,’ Bill says.
‘Tell you what,’ the tall police officer says when they all stop chuckling. ‘We’ll take this young lady home. Have a word with her parents. See if they can get some control over her.’
‘Met the mother before, mate,’ Bill snorts. ‘One of those new-age hippy types. Bring the kids up with no morals at all, that lot do. Stealing’s just a way of life for them.’
Minutes later I’m being led out of a side door of the store. I think of making a run for it. I desperately do NOT want them to find out who I really am. But I’m hardly going to be able to outrun two cops with my leg bandaged up so tight I can’t bend it, one arm in a sling and crutches, am I?
As I get into the panda car I consider my options:
Pretend I have sudden amnesia and can’t remember who I am or where I live
Lie about who I am, give a false address and tell them they’d best not come into the house cos my mum has the Black Death and it’s highly infectious
Tell the truth. Hope that they’re impressed that my dad’s a lawyer and the local MP, and that Mum then wins them over with a nice cup of tea and some lovely home-made muffins.
As the tall police officer starts the engine, he looks over his shoulder to where I’m sitting in the back.
‘OK, love,’ he says. ‘Where to?’
15
Whoop! For once it’s all worked out OK. Who knows, maybe at last my luck is changing and I’m starting to get some of that GOOD karma Cordelia was talking about …
In the end I give the police my proper name and address and, of course, they know who Dad is. And it turns out the tall policeman’s big sister was best friends with my mum at school and he immediately says, ‘What on earth was that security guard going on about? Heather’s not a new-age hippy!’ And I explain that they were really rude and horrible to Mum before and I tell them all about Taslima and the earthquake and how me and my friends were only trying to raise money to help and they say, ‘Oh, that all makes sense now!’
So when we get home they come in with me and the tall policeman explains how there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding at Paradiso’s and the security guards have been unnecessarily heavy-handed – and guess what? Mum takes MY side totally and is railing on about phoning Paradiso’s up and complaining, but instead she gets sidetracked making tea for the two policemen and serving them some totally mouth-watering lemon drizzle cake, and the policemen tell Mum about me demanding my right to silence under the Fourth Amendment and now they’re all hooting with laughter.
‘So what’s wrong with that?’ I ask, my colour rising. ‘I thought that was what you were supposed to say.’
‘Well, first of all,’ Mum grins, ‘it’s the Fifth Amendment.’
‘And second,’ the tall policeman splutters through a mouthful of lemon drizzle cake, ‘that’s only in America!’
I leave them to their laughter and hobble upstairs. Actually I don’t mind them laughing at me. For a while back there I thought Dad would be grounding me, like, forever, for dragging his name into disrepute by getting arrested and brought home in a police car like a common criminal.
Now all I want to do is get out of my bandages and cleaned up – and find out what happened to Cordelia and Megan and everyone else. I mean, so OK, I didn’t get flung in jail, but I can’t imagine it’s been Mission Successful. As far as I know the buckets were pretty empty when the security guards busted us.
I limp into the bathroom, close the door, pull off all my bandages and filthy clothes and have a quick shower. Then I wrap myself in a big bath towel and whizz downstairs to grab the cordless phone from the hall table before anyone sees me wandering around half naked. Then I bound back upstairs two-at-a-time.
But as I open the door to my bedroom I get such a shock I almost drop the phone – and the towel!
‘Shhhhh …’ Cordelia says, leaping at me and clamping her hand over my mouth. ‘No one knows we’re here! We didn’t want to shop you to your mum. So we came in through the window.’ (We?!)
I do a double take – and grip the towel extra-super-tight. Everyone from Eco Club’s in my room! Sindi-Sue and Megan flutter their fingers at me.
Magnus grins. ‘Hi! Love the towel.’
Midge ogles.
I blush from the end of my little toe right up my legs, right to the tips of my ears. ‘Er – give me a minute,’ I squeak, rushing quick as a flash back through to the bathroom and slamming the door shut … only to realize I’ve no clothes with me! I stare unhappily at the filthy ones I’ve just taken off, lying in a pathetic heap on the floor. Then I scan the pile of towels in the cupboard, wondering desperately if I can wear them like a kind of burkha to stop Midge ogling me while I grab some clothes from my room.
I’m searching for the hugest bath towel when there’s a tap at the door. ‘It’s me!’ says Cordelia. ‘Thought you might need some clothes.’
More than a little relieved, I open the door and grab the shorts and Tee Cordelia shoves at me.
‘See,’ Cordelia grins before heading back into my room. ‘Sometimes it’s useful to have a friend who’s psychic!’
Ten minutes later I am fully dressed, my decency and modesty intact.
‘So what happened to you at Paradiso’s?’ Megan asks as I collapse on to my beanbag. ‘Tell us everything!’
‘What happened to me? What happened to you lot, more like? One minute you were all there; next thing it was just me and the security guard.’
‘Sorry about that,’ Cordelia sighs. ‘We saw him coming and tried to warn you –’
‘– but you were so caught up in all your writhing and moaning,’ Megan continues, ‘we couldn’t get your attention.’
‘So we legged it round the side of the building and hid, you know, to wait. But you never came back out, so in the end we decided to head back here.’ Cordelia fi
nishes.
They listen in shocked silence as I tell them all about my trauma with the security guards and the police.
‘You poor thing!’ Megan gasps.
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I say bravely. ‘And at least it all turned out OK when I got home.’
Then Cordelia suggests we count what we’ve collected and Magnus climbs back down to the garden to get the buckets. We tip the takings out on to the centre of my rainbow rug and Magnus and Megan put the coins into little piles.
‘OK,’ Magnus says at last. ‘Seven pounds, thirty-two pence, one euro, two buttons and, oh, a pink Love Heart that says,’ he glances up at me, ‘Darling, be mine.’
I scowl to warn him off. And guess what? He only turns and offers it to Megan! Course, I’m expecting her to throw it back in his face on account of what happened at her party that time – but she turns more pink than the Love Heart, simpers, ‘Thanks, Magnus. I’ll think about it,’ and pockets it!
Cordelia and me exchange a what’s-going-on-there? look.13
‘I had hoped we’d get a lot more than a measly seven quid,’ I mutter. ‘I mean, that’s hardly going to make a difference when whole towns have been reduced to rubble.’
We stare dejectedly at the little pile.
‘Well,’ Cordelia says slowly, ‘there’s only one thing for it, then.’ We all look at her as if we expect her to cast a magic spell over the money and turn it into twenty-pound notes, like that Rumpelstiltskin dude when he turned the straw into gold for what’s-her-name locked in the tower by the evil king.
‘Oh, it’s nothing magic!’ she says quickly as if she’s read our minds14. ‘Much more down to earth than that. And it will involve all of us mucking in and doing a fair bit of work –’
‘Well, I’m up for it,’ Magnus says immediately.
‘Me too,’ says Megan as Sindi-Sue nods in agreement. ‘It would be great to be able to tell Taslima when she comes back that we raised, like, a hundred pounds for the disaster fund.’