Contents
Chapter 1 Beans for Tea and World War Three
Chapter 2 The Booted-out Boyfriend and the Super-selfish Sister
Chapter 3 The Silver Surfer and the Happy Haddock
Chapter 4 The Wise Old Owl and the Wishes that Won’t Work
Chapter 5 Gran’s Great Idea and a Quick Getaway
Chapter 6 One Week’s Trial and Two Kinds of Poos
Chapter 7 Gloomy Tunes and Teething Troubles
Chapter 8 The Felt-tip Trick and the Bad, Bad Bunny
Chapter 9 Choc Sauce and the Last Chance Saloon
Chapter 10 ‘You’re the boss!’ and Birthday Plans
Chapter 11 A Crushed Cake and a Little Bit of Breeze
Chapter 12 The Dead of the Night and Dennis’s Disappearing Whiskers
Chapter 13 A Magnificent Mansion and the Family Facts of Life
Chapter 14 The Wailing Stage and the Wonder of Dennis
Chapter 15 Losing Someone you Love and Getting your Head Blown Off
Chapter 16 A Scary Scream and a Surprising Skill
Chapter 17 The Friends you Choose and the Family you Want
Also by Jenny Alexander
Chapter 1
Beans for Tea and World War Three
You know when your parents are being really annoying such as, for example, when your mum is starting up her own business called ‘Garden Angels’ and your dad’s supposed to be doing more around the house, but isn’t?
And they argue all the time until you can’t stand another minute of it so you just have to get out of there and take a long walk on the beach with your sister’s boyfriend’s dog?
Well, that’s what happened to me the day that Gran was coming to visit.
It was a Friday so Dad wasn’t working. He takes Thursdays and Fridays off because he’s a sports reporter on the Three Towns Gazette, which means he has to work weekends, going to cricket matches and stuff. Nice work if you can get it, Mum says.
Anyway, as he was at home all day and she was out mowing lawns and hacking hedges, Mum had left him a list of chores such as ‘tidy house’, ‘buy food’ and ‘prepare evening meal’. Judging by the state of the kitchen when me and Primrose got home from school, he hadn’t done any of them.
The kitchen takes up the whole of the ground floor of our house, so it’s got both the front door and the back door going out of it. A third door leads to the stairs up to the sitting-room; then above that is my bedroom and Primrose’s. Mum and Dad’s bedroom and Dad’s study are right at the top of the house. All the houses in Harbour Row are very tall and thin.
The back door was open and the sound of snoring was wafting in from the yard. We looked out and saw Dad snoozing on a sun-lounger with his newspaper spread across his belly like a blanket.
‘Dad!’ Primrose woke him up.
He shifted under his newspaper and a few pages slid onto the ground.
‘W-what time is it?’ he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Instead of answering, she handed him Mum’s list. He groaned. Then, true to his motto, ‘If a job’s worth doing it’s worth getting someone else to do it,’ he said, ‘You’ll have to help me, girls.’
Primrose laughed. ‘Sorry, Dad. I’ve got revision to do!’
Once you get past Year 9 you can use exams as an excuse for getting out of anything you don’t want to do for the whole summer term. I learnt that from Primrose. You don’t actually have to do any revision – Dad and me both knew perfectly well that Primrose was going to spend the next half hour trying on every single thing in her wardrobe and doing her make-up before Matt came round.
She flounced off upstairs to get changed and Dad looked at me. I didn’t see why I should have to help if Primrose wasn’t going to, and anyway, as I pointed out to him, the list clearly said ‘Dave’ at the top, not ‘Dave, Primrose and Peony’.
‘You’ve got plenty of time,’ I said. ‘Mum won’t be home for ages.’
‘Fair enough,’ goes Dad in a you-can’t-blame-a-bloke-for-trying kind of way.
Mum had been working late every night for weeks. She and her friend Stella were trying to do as much lawn-mowing and weeding as possible so they could build a big list of customers. Then in the winter-time when everything stopped growing, those people might think of them for winter jobs like making ponds and digging vegetable patches.
Unfortunately for Dad, I was wrong about him having plenty of time because Mum decided to stop work early that day in honour of Gran’s visit. When she walked in, all covered in bits of grass and dust, he was just cramming the odds and ends that had been left lying around on the surfaces into the space at the front of the food cupboard – which should have been full of food if he had done the shopping.
‘This place looks like a pigsty!’ Mum said, stamping the dirt off her feet on the doormat. ‘What on earth have you been doing all day?’
‘I’ve been tidying,’ Dad said indignantly. He pointed to the list. ‘Item number one!’
‘Your mother will be here any minute and you haven’t even tidied up?’
‘Well, see, the thing is, Jan, my mum doesn’t mind a bit of mess.’
Mum stopped undoing her boot laces and stepped deliberately off the mat. She clomped across to the sink to get a glass of water, leaving a trail of grass cuttings and dirt all over the floor.
‘All right, Dave, tell me this – what have you bought for supper tonight? Or does your mum not mind a bit of going hungry either?’
‘No-one will be going hungry,’ Dad assured her. ‘I’m thinking, beans on toast!’
Dad’s cooking skills didn’t stretch much further than beans, pizza, pasta and take-away, and that was pretty much all we’d been living on since Mum started her gardening business. When she told him we weren’t getting enough vegetables he invented ‘beans ‘n greens’ by putting a lettuce leaf on top. When she said we needed fruit in our diet he sprinkled our spaghetti with sultanas.
To be honest, Primrose and me preferred Dad’s cooking. It was great. I mean, you could rely on him never to spring yucky things on you such as gooseberries, rhubarb, spinach or cauliflower. But it really annoyed Mum.
‘I know you’ve raised laziness to a fine art, but surely you could make an effort when your mother’s coming!’ she thundered.
Dad pointed out that it was his day off, and as far as he was aware normal people regarded a day off as time to stop working and relax.
‘What’s that supposed to mean – normal people?’ goes Mum.
‘It means I liked you better before you went workaholic!’
‘Well pardon me for not being consistent like you. You’ve always been a waste of space!’
Primrose swept in looking for her eye-pencil. She would never have guessed where it was so I pointed to the food cupboard for her.
‘Thanks, Peony,’ she said, opening the door. A blue biro and a bunch of old bus tickets fell out. She shoved them back in again. ‘What’s with all the shouting? It’s like World War Three in here!’
That’s exactly what Mum and Dad say when me and Primrose are arguing but you could tell it wasn’t a good idea saying it to them. They straight away stopped shouting at each other and turned on Primrose.
‘If it’s like World War Three in here that’s because the place looks like a bomb hit it!’ Mum said. ‘We all know your father’s a lazy slob...’
Dad looked as if he might protest but then thought the better of it. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
‘...but that doesn’t mean you have to copy him! When was the last time you did anything around the house?’
‘Well, I’m sorry but I can’t help at th
e moment,’ Primrose said smugly. ‘I’ve got revision.’
‘Then you won’t be needing this,’ goes Mum, swiping the eye-pencil out of her hand.
It was like flicking a switch. Primrose is the only person I know who can go from smug to stroppy in two seconds flat.
‘That’s mine!’ she said. ‘Give it back!’
‘You’ll have it back when you’ve helped with the tidying-up,’ goes Mum.
Primrose glanced at the clock. Matt would be here any minute and she hadn’t finished her make-up. Mum said if she was feeling so stressed about her revision maybe she shouldn’t be seeing Matt every single day after school.
Right on cue, we heard him coming up the front steps. Primrose snatched her eye-pencil in panic but it was too late. Matt tapped on the open door and walked in. Old Sam, who usually trots in first, was dragging behind. Dogs can always sense danger. I ran and stroked him so he wouldn’t be scared. When Primrose is kicking off, wolves and lions would run for cover.
‘Everything OK?’ said Matt. He was probably wishing he had been able to sense danger too. Then he would have reached our house and gone right on walking.
‘You won’t believe this!’ blurted Primrose. ‘Mum wants us to stop seeing each other!’
‘She didn’t exactly say that,’ Dad pointed out. ‘She said maybe you could see a bit less of each other during the exam period because then you’d have more time for revising.’
‘And for pulling your weight around the house,’ added Mum.
‘That’s all you care about, the rotten house!’ cried Primrose. ‘You don’t care about me! When I fail everything and drop out of school and end up living in a cardboard box you’ll be happy because at least I did my share of the hoovering!’
She looked at Matt, expecting him to back her up, but he didn’t meet her eye. Sam gave a little whimper. I stroked his head again.
‘As if I haven’t got enough stress already!’ wailed Primrose.
‘Ahem...’ Matt cleared his throat. ‘Maybe your mum’s got a point?’ he ventured.
Was he mad? Primrose gave him a glare. Unbelievably, he carried on.
‘I’ve got exams this term too, and my parents have told me they think I should be staying home some evenings to revise.’
They would, when you came to think about it. I mean, they spent a fortune sending him to St Cuthbert’s College so they must be keen for him to do well. But none of us had seen this coming. Mum nodded approvingly. Dad glanced nervously at Primrose. Sam stuck his nose under his paw.
Primrose said, in a voice that could make a polar bear shiver, ‘If that’s what you think...’
She was furious, but not fiery furious. She was frosty furious, which is even worse, though Matt didn’t know it yet because he’d only been going out with her for a few weeks. He had never seen her in a full-on strop.
‘Can I take Sam for a walk?’ I said.
I couldn’t hang around and watch. I had to get out of there quick-smart or else I might just snap and say, ‘Primrose, you’re an idiot. Matt’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and you’re going to drive him away!’
Chapter 2
The Booted-out Boyfriend and the Super-selfish Sister
If all the animals in the world were to have a race, Sam would end up battling it out at the back with the sloths and snails. It’s not his fault, he’s just really old. Matt says in his young days he was always on the go, rounding everyone up. That’s the sheep-dog in him. These days he’d have trouble rounding up a cabbage.
I let him go first down the front steps. There are eleven of them, which must be like going down Mount Everest for him. All the houses in this part of Polgotherick have steps up to the front door because they’re on a steep hill overlooking the harbour. They were built before people had cars so there aren’t any roads, just zig-zag paths that wind their way up out of the town and down towards the sea.
It was drizzling but I didn’t want to go back indoors and get a coat. It could be just a passing shower and anyway, like Gran says, skin is waterproof. If it wasn’t, imagine what would happen when you got in the bath. Or when you were at the swimming pool with fifty billion other people – you’d all soak up the water and get jammed.
Sam finally made it to the bottom of the steps and started plodding down the path towards the sea. Because he’s so old and there aren’t any cars you don’t have to keep him on the lead. He’s also a bit blind which means he has to stop every few seconds to get his bearings by having a good sniff around.
By the time we got to the bend by the Seafarers’ chapel I was beginning to feel better. That’s how it works when you’re walking a dog. You can be in a steaming temper when you set off but then ten minutes later you’ll be watching him sniffing a chip paper and suddenly notice you aren’t feeling upset any more.
Since Primrose had been going out with Matt I had been walking Sam every day and he had become like my best friend. Ideally, I’d have liked to have a dog of my own, of course. The problem was, Dad didn’t like dogs. He had been scared of them ever since one bit him on the bum when he was nine.
You would have thought that having dear old Sam around might help him to get over it, but no luck so far. Still, a borrowed dog is definitely better than no dog at all. If you’ve got a very annoying family like me and you aren’t allowed to have a dog, you really should try to find someone who will let you borrow theirs, that’s what I say.
The tide was coming in. Some of the small boats in the harbour had already lifted out of the mud and were bobbing about in the shallow water. There weren’t many people out and about on such a murky day, just Toby from school and his little sister Leah. They were crabbing off the end of the harbour wall. I went to see if they’d caught anything.
Toby and Leah’s dad ran the Scouts troop in Polgotherick and their mum was in charge of the Guides. They were always going off on family hikes, canoeing holidays and stuff like that.
‘Hey Peony,’ said Toby. ‘Nice weather for ducks!’
‘Look at all the crabs we’ve got,’ goes Leah. The bucket was full of big brown crabs, all crawling over each other.
‘Matt’s at your house then,’ Toby said, nodding towards Sam. Then he looked up at me and said, ‘What’s wrong?’
I shrugged. Same old, same old. Primrose kicking off. Mum and Dad arguing.
They never used to be this bad. Before Mum started her business they had their ups and downs like everyone else. Mum sometimes got annoyed when Dad was being a slacker, but most of the time she liked his laid-back ways. Dad sometimes got fed up with Mum whizzing around like a whirlwind, but most of the time he admired the way she got things done.
‘Mum’s off the scale with work,’ I said, ‘so Dad’s gone off the scale with slacking, and all they do is argue all the time.’
Toby didn’t know what to say. If you needed someone to get a stone out of your horse’s hoof or make a stretcher out of sweatshirts or build a shelter from sticks and leaves, Toby was the one to ask. But he wasn’t a great one for talking about things.
‘If you want to get out of the house you can always come to ours,’ he said. ‘We’re digging up that hedgehog we found on the top road a few weeks ago to see if we can find the bones.’
It was a tempting offer but I told him my Gran was coming later. Then all of a sudden, it started bucketing down so Toby and Leah tipped their crabs back over the edge and sprinted off towards their house. Sam and me went trudging back up the hill.
We were both soaked by the time we turned the last bend and came in sight of Harbour Row. Matt was walking down the path towards us. He did not look happy. I thought maybe he was cross with me for keeping Sam out in the rain in case he got a chill or something, but as we got closer I just knew that wasn’t it.
‘She’s dumped me!’ he blurted out. ‘Everything seemed to be going so well. I just don’t understand it.’
Blooming Primrose – I knew this was going to happen!
‘What did she say?’
‘She said, if I wasn’t going to stick up for her in her most stressful time, what with exams and everything, then as far as she was concerned it was over.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘Well, I said all right then. I didn’t want to make her feel even more stressed by arguing.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to plead.’
‘W-what?’
‘You plead and then she takes you back.’
It was raining so hard we might as well have been standing under a cold shower. I grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him towards the house.
‘I’m not going back in there!’ he said.
The shed under the front steps wasn’t locked. I opened the door and we dived inside. Sam stood out on the path looking bedraggled until Matt scooped him up and sat him on the floor between our feet.
‘Look, this is the way it works,’ I said. ‘Primrose is a bit of a drama queen.’
Actually, she’s a lot more than a bit of a drama queen, she’s one hundred per cent of one, but I didn’t want to completely put him off.
‘She’s like this with everyone. She gets in a strop and makes a big scene, then it all blows over and everything’s great again. Trust me.’
She must have dumped her last boyfriend, Mushy Marcus, a dozen times but he always came back, and then they were even more mushy with each other than before. Until Marcus eventually got fed up with it and Primrose went into her mega-mooch, but I didn’t even want to think about that.
‘You weren’t there,’ Matt said, gloomily. ‘She wasn’t messing around.’
Then he picked Sam up and stepped outside.
‘Goodbye, Peony.’
They walked away up the zig-zag path.
‘Can I still see Sam?’ I called after him, but I don’t think he heard me through the rain. And anyway, what was I thinking? Of course I wouldn’t see Sam if Matt stopped coming to see Primrose.
I was as mad as a wasp in a bottle. I already had Mum and Dad arguing all the time and now Primrose would be a complete pain like she always was when her love-life took a dive. To make matters worse, I would have to get through it all without even having Sam to cheer me up. What about my most stressful time?
How To Get The Family You Want by Peony Pinker Page 1