Skinny Melon and Me

by Jean Ure

  Chapter 3

  Monday

  Janetta Barnes found a slug in her salad today. She’s taken it home to show her mum. I’m hoping her mum will sue someone and then maybe we’ll get to have better dinners.

  Tuesday

  We all had to line up in the hall at break while Mrs James and Miss Burgess walked up and down looking at us. They said they were looking for interesting faces for the Christmas play. I have been picked to be an angel! A singing angel.

  I rushed home to tell Mum, thinking she’d be pleased, and all she did was laugh and say, “You? An angel?” I said, “Miss Burgess says I have an angelic face.” Mum said, “Yes, you do! I’ll grant you that. Isn’t it strange how looks can be so deceiving?” I told her that it was a play and that I was going to be acting. I said, “And singing as well, as a matter of fact.” Mum said, “Singing?” That really impressed her, I could tell. Mum never knew that I could sing. But I can!

  Wednesday

  All the puppies have gone! Oh, and they were so beeeeeeauuuutiful! I hope they’ve been taken by people who will be kind to them and look after them. If I had a dog and it had puppies I would never give any of them away, ever, because you can’t trust what people might be going to do with them. There are some people that are just so cruel it is unbelievable. Avril says her mum checked most carefully and they have all gone to good homes where they will be loved, but nobody could love them as much as I would have done!

  Curried compost-heap for dinner today. I found what looked like the remains of a beetle in mine. Janetta says she showed the slug that she found to her mum and her mum said it wasn’t a slug but a bit of oberjene (?) but Janetta is still sure it was a slug. She thinks what happened was it got squashed in her bag on the way home, on account of all the homework we have to lug about with us, and had therefore gone a bit flat. I think her mum just didn’t want to admit that it was a slug. I’ve noticed that whenever you tell parents anything bad about school, like rotten school dinners or one of the teachers having a go at you for doing something when it wasn’t you they always take the teacher’s side and say, “Well, you must have done something”, or “You must be exaggerating”. They hate to admit you could ever be right and a teacher might be wrong. I’m dead sure it was a beetle I found but it’s no use taking it home as Mum would only say it was a mustard seed or something.

  I forgot to record that Skinny was not picked to be anything in the Christmas play, I suppose because a long, thin face is perhaps not as interesting as a round, blobby one but fortunately she doesn’t mind as she has no wish to be an actress. She says even if they had picked her she wouldn’t have wanted to be in it. It is a relief that she is not jealous, but I have to say that on the whole Skinny has a very nice nature. She has promised to come to one of the performances and cheer me on.

  Thursday

  Today I ate a plate of cold sick with dubious-looking objects floating in it. I had this vision of one of the cooks throwing up in the kitchen and someone running at her with a basin yelling, “Don’t waste anything, don’t waste anything! Recycle!” Skinny Melon says I am disgusting but I just happen to have this very vivid sort of imagination.

  Skinny came back with me for tea after school and it was so embarrassing, I didn’t know where to put myself. Slimey Roland was there, all covered in mud from digging this stupid pond he keeps on about. He looked such a sight! I could have died when he came and sat down with us at the table. I was so ashamed of him. And then he started making these awful jokes, the way he does, like, “What do you call two spiders who’ve just got married? Newly Webs!” and “What’s full of sandwiches and hides in a bell tower? The Lunch Pack of Notre Dame!” I mean, they’re just not funny. I don’t think they are.

  Skinny was really brilliant and kept groaning and giggling and making like she was amused. She was only doing it out of pity for me, I could tell. It was nice of her, but then he started to think he was some kind of big comedy star and just went on and on till I wanted to scream. Skinny actually choked at one point and I thought she was going to suffocate, she went so red. I expect the reason she choked was he was being so ex-cru-cia-ting.

  I apologised to her afterwards. I said, “He’s really grungy, isn’t he?” I thought we could have a nice hate-Slimey session but Skinny wouldn’t play. She has this thing about fathers, which is because hers went and died when she was really young so that she never properly knew him and as a result she thinks even a dad like Slime is better than no dad at all. I told her that a) he wasn’t my dad. I already had a dad, thank you very much. Just because he isn’t living with us doesn’t make him not my dad any more and b) she’d change her mind quickly enough if Slimey Roland married her mum and went to live in her house.

  I said, “Imagine listening to those yucky jokes every day!” Skinny said that she would be quite happy listening to yucky jokes. She agreed that they were yucky but said she thought that Slime was “an ace joke-teller”. I said “Oh, do you?” and she said, yes, she did, so I said, “Well, I don’t. I think he’s pathetic.” I said, “He’s a wimp and a weed and he sniffles.” To which Skinny retorted, “So what?” She then had the nerve to tell me that I wasn’t being fair.

  Friday

  The Skinbag must be mad. She said to me today that she thinks Slimey Roland is “really nice”. She also said, “Is your mum going to have a baby?” which made me want to knock her head off. I said, “No, of course she isn’t! What makes you think that?” and she said, “‘Cos she looks as if she is.” So I said, “Oh?” raising both my eyebrows up into my fringe to show I was displeased. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” She said, “Well she’s all kind of bulgy round the middle.”

  I told her I’d poke her eyes out if she said anything like that about my mum again, so then she said, “Sorry, I’m sure,” meaning she wasn’t sorry at all, and went into a huff and shut up. We haven’t talked all the rest of the day.

  How dare she say Mum’s bulgy round the middle? That would be like me saying her mum had sticking-out teeth, which she has.

  But I wouldn’t ever say it because it would be rude. And anyway, what would Mum want a baby for? When she’s already got me?

  Saturday

  I’ve been thinking about what Skinny said. I have a horrible feeling that it might be true. Mum is looking bulgy. I suddenly saw it when she was getting off the bus. And this morning after we’d done all the shopping and were going to go and have what Slimey calls “coffee and cakies”. (He spends so much time drawing pictures of elves that his mind has gone completely infantile.) I couldn’t help noticing that they spent ages standing outside a baby shop gorming at all the prams and potties and carry-cots. They didn’t realise I was watching them. They thought I was too busy giving money to a person that was collecting for anti-vivisection, and I was giving them money, because I think that anyone that experiments on animals ought to be experimented on themselves, but at the same time I was watching Mum and Slimey. They had their arms round each other’s waists! Pathetic, really. Mum is going to be thirty-six next year, and I know for a fact that Slime is even older. I don’t think people of that age ought to go about in public with their arms round each other, I think it looks really naff. Especially when one of them is your own mother.

  I don’t think I could bear it if Mum was going to have another baby. But surely she would have told me? Maybe she is just suffering from middle-age spread.

  While we were doing the shopping I looked at some aubergines (which is how it is spelt, not oberjenes as I originally thought) and they are not in the least like slugs, more like big purple eggs, so I really don’t know what Janetta’s mum was talking about.

  After lunch Aunt Jilly and Uncle Ivo came and brought their new baby with them. It is a horrible thing, all sicky and stinky and does nothing but bawl.

  Mum and Slimey both drooled over it. Slime kept giving it his bony old finger to hold and making these silly baby noises. I personally think you ought to talk to babies sensibly, in proper la
nguage, so that they can learn things. I don’t see any point in filling their heads with all this gooey yuck. I mean, if they grow up thinking that stuff like “Doo doo doo” is how people communicate, for goodness’ sake, it’s just going to retard them. It stands to reason. They left me alone with it for a few minutes and I went up to it and said, “Good afternoon. How are you today?” and it actually looked at me quite intelligently. I don’t expect it knew what I was saying, but I bet the words have gone into its head and I bet they’ll be some of the first words it ever speaks. I bet they’ll get a surprise one day when it sits up in its pram and says good afternoon to them.

  “Good afternoon. How are you today?”

  They won’t know it’s me they have to thank.

  I’m getting more and more worried about Mum. She and Aunt Jilly went into the kitchen together to look at a plant that keeps shrivelling and they were there for simply ages so I went after them to find out what they were doing and as soon as she saw me, Mum gave Aunt Jilly this warning glance and they both stopped talking, but not before I’d heard what they were saying. Well, what Mum was saying. She was saying, “Yes, I know, I’m really going to have to pluck up the courage and tell her.”

  It doesn’t sound good.

  141 Arethusa Road

  London W5

  9 October

  Dear Carol,

  Many thanks for your lovely long letter! I’m afraid this is going to be another shortish one as we’ve been out walking all day on Hampstead Heath and I am whacked. Getting too old and fat!!!

  The answer to your question, which I know you’re going to ask, is no … I haven’t yet broken the news to Cherry. Yes, yes, I accept that I’m a total coward, but I am going to do it tomorrow afternoon when she gets in from school. Roly has to go away for the night – he is doing a talk to some mixed infants way up in the north of England – and so it will be a good opportunity. Just Cherry and me on our own. I think she might take it better that way.

  We all really enjoyed ourselves today. It was a lovely family outing, the sort of thing we ought to do more often. We took our food with us and had a good old-fashioned picnic! It was Roly’s idea, and he prepared all the goodies. He was really imaginative – and it was all vegetarian! Vegetable samosas, sausage rolls made with vegebangers, vegetable kebabs, soya desserts. I am quite being won over, and I think Cherry is, too. At any rate, she gobbled everything up. I don’t believe she even realised that the sausage rolls weren’t made with real sausages!

  Altogether it was an absolutely super day. It gives me hope that Cherry is coming round at last. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that hearing about you-know-what doesn’t set her back.

  Jilly and Ivo came over yesterday with little Sammy, and at first Cherry was very cool, very aloof, refused even to look at him. But then we left them alone together for a few minutes, just to see what would happen, and she couldn’t resist! Roly reports that she was nattering away nineteen to the dozen. So I think when she gets used to the idea she’ll be fine.

  She has been asked to take the part of an angel in the school nativity play, if you can believe it. An angel! Cherry! She is also going to sing. I don’t know if you have ever heard your god-daughter sing? It is not an experience I would recommend! She has a voice rather like a hyena. I only hope they don’t discover their error and give the part to someone else because she is terribly puffed up and looking forward to it. I wouldn’t like her little bubble to be burst.

  Her friend Melanie came to tea the other day. She is a nice child; steady and reliable. Cherry occasionally tries bossing her but fortunately Melanie can hold her own. I think that’s why the friendship has lasted. Melanie won’t stand for any nonsense! Roly was there and kept everyone in stitches, clowning around and generally playing the fool. He is absolutely, instinctively marvellous with kids. I think Cherry was quite proud of him. She certainly ought to have been.

  There! This letter hasn’t turned out so short after all. Next time I will report how she takes the news about Mum’s big secret …

  All my love,

  Chapter 4

  Sunday

  Today we all trailed half-way across London to go for a picnic on Hampstead Heath. On account of Slimey Roland refusing to pollute the environment, we had to go by tube. That meant taking the Central line to Tottenham Court Road, which is 13 stops, and then hanging about for ever waiting for a northern line to Hampstead, which was another seven. What a pathetic way to travel! We must have looked ridiculous. Slimey was wearing a T-shirt and shorts (shorts! With his legs!) and Mum was wearing a horrible sort of boiler suit and looking really dumpy. Definitely middle-age spread. In addition to the shorts, Slime was humping an enormous backpack. You’d have thought he was going on a round-the-world hike. I wore jeans and was the only one who looked half-way normal.

  It was a really draggy sort of day because all we did was walk on the Heath and occasionally sit down and eat stuff and then get up again and do more walking and then sit down again to have a drink, and then they wanted to read their Sunday papers, which actually was the best bit because it meant I could go off on my own, which I did, and met this girl throwing sticks for her dog. She let me join in, which was fun. It was a really good dog, a German shepherd, which I would love, but some hopes.

  Anyway, after all that we got on the tube and came home again, and what was supposed to be the point of it is what I want to know? If they wanted to go for a walk and sit on the grass and eat things why not just go up the road to the Common? Why trail all the way to Hampstead Heath? Mum says it’s because Slimey used to live there before he married Mum and moved in with us and made my life a misery. Well, she didn’t say that bit. I said that bit. I will never accept him as a second dad.

  Dad was supposed to ring me this evening but he must have been too busy. Mum has said I can go and stay with him at half term. A whole week! Hooray!

  The food today was pretty horrific, incidentally, for a true carnivore such as myself. Vegetarian sausages, for heaven’s sake! I just munched in glum silence, not saying anything, as I could tell that Mum was really enjoying herself and I didn’t want to spoil things for her, but she needn’t think I didn’t notice because I most certainly did. And if she thinks I am going to become a cranky veggie, she has another thing coming!

  I’m really looking forward to tomorrow because HE is going to be away. He’s going to go and bore some poor little kids at a school in Newcastle, showing them pictures of elves. That means Mum and I will be on our own! Double hooray!

  Monday

  It’s just as well I made things up with Skinny Melon today because it turns out she was 100% right. My worst fears have come true. Mum is going to have a baby.

  She broke it to me after tea, just as I was thinking we could settle down to have a lovely evening all to ourselves like we used to before HE came. She said, “I know I should have told you months ago—” and then she didn’t get any further because I said, “Months? You mean it’s been going on for months?” and she admitted that it had. She said that she is going to have it, “Some time in the New Year … on or about St Valentine’s Day.” That is the 14th of February! No wonder she looks bulgy round the middle.

  I hate Slimey Roland worse than ever now. Doing this to my mum! I bet it was his stupid idea. He’s all gooey about babies. Mum would never have thought of it for herself. She and Dad were going to have another one once only she decided against it, so if she decided against it with Dad why would she go for it with Slime? She surely can’t want to have a baby that’s going to be all gingery and freckled and look like a fungus?

  She kept trying to butter me up. Trying to make me feel better about it. She kept saying things like, “It’ll make us a proper family”, and “It’ll be nice for you to have a brother or sister”. I don’t want a brother or sister! I hate babies! They mess themselves and yell all the time. They are totally disgusting. And its surname will be Butter and it’ll belong to them, to Mum and him, and I’ll be an outsider.


  I’ll never forgive him for this. Never!

  Tuesday

  I told Skinny Melon this morning that she was right, and she said, “Oh, you’re so lucky! That is totally brilliant. I wish my mum would get married again so that we could have another baby.”

  There are times when I think that Skinny is not quite right in the head.

  After school we had a rehearsal for the Christmas play and those of us that are angels were taught the angels’ song. We each get to sing one verse on our own and then the chorus all together. Mr Freely came in while we were doing it and said, “My goodness, that is some voice Cherry has!” One or two of the others put their hands to their ears and complained that I was deafening them, but you have to sing loudly if people at the back are going to be able to hear you, and it is a rock nativity, after all. Not the wishy-washy churchy kind. That’s why Miss Burgess chose me, because I have this big voice.

  I really enjoy singing. It has made me wonder whether perhaps I ought to try and be a pop star when I’m older. I know it is an overcrowded profession and that last year I thought I might want to be a judge, but being a pop star would bring deep joy to a great many people’s lives whereas quite often judges do the exact opposite.

  Maybe I could be a judge after I’ve finished being a pop star as I don’t think you can be a judge until you are quite old, by which time I would most likely be bored with the other. I once heard someone say that fame could become very wearisome.