Skinny Melon and Me

by Jean Ure

  She asked me the other day if I’d like to feel it but I said no, thank you very much. Catch me!

  Tomorrow I am going to stay with Dad. Hooray hooray hooray! Three whole days without Slimey Roland! No more stupid jokes, no more stupid cards! I can go to bed at night and know that nobody is going to come creeping along the passage and shoving stuff under my door while I’m asleep, which is something I really hate.

  Dad is picking me up in the car. He is driving all the way from Southampton and is arriving at about 9 o’clock, so I must be sure and be up early. I am going to set my alarm. Fortunately I have already packed my case, I did it this morning with Mum’s help. She kept saying things like, “Well, you won’t need all that much, now it’s only for a few days.” She just refuses to accept that Dad is an important person and cannot simply please himself. This is because he is in an office. All Mum and Slimey ever do is sit at home reading books and drawing elves. But with Dad, there is a great deal depending on him and he has to be prepared to work long hours. It is not his fault. I do wish Mum could see this.

  I am going to take my diary with me just in case, but I expect I shall be too busy to write anything in it. The next three days are going to be ACTION PACKED!!!

  141 Arethusa Road

  London W5

  25 October

  Dearest Carol,

  I cannot believe it! A Texan called Dwayn? Is this a real name??? He sure does sound hunky, hon!

  No, no, no, I’m only joking! In all seriousness, I’m really glad you’ve found someone to have fun with. You deserve it. Enjoy! But full reports, please. I am consumed with vulgar curiosity.

  Cherry has suggested that if the baby is a girl we should call her Bredan… get it? Oh, ho ho! She is picking up this sort of humour from Roly. But I was so pleased that she feels able to make jokes about it. It shows she’s been thinking.

  Yesterday she went over the road to have tea with a new little girl who has just moved into our neighbourhood. I call her a little girl because although she is the same age as Cherry she is most delightfully quaint and old-fashioned! She actually wears a big red bow in her hair and shiny shoes with ankle straps. It takes me right back! Cherry by contrast is into all this heavy grunge gear and walks around looking like something that’s crawled out of a garbage heap. I feel it would do her good to make friends with someone like little Sereena.

  At the moment she is not here as she has gone off to spend a few days with Gregg. There are times when I could cheerfully strangle that man! He had arranged to pick her up at about nine o’clock and she was all ready and waiting, down in the hall with her suitcase, wearing her best clothes (ie, the grungiest ones she could find) and by 10.30 when he still hadn’t arrived I rang Southampton and got this bimbo he’s shacked up with and she says, “Oh, yah, he’s just left about ten minutes ago.” Of course by then the roads were busy which meant he didn’t get here until lunch-time.

  It really is too bad. Poor little Cherry sitting there waiting like some faithful hound, and this selfish irresponsible oaf not even bothering to call and let us know! Cherry was almost in tears. When he finally turned up she went catapulting into his arms and it was all kissy kissy huggy huggy. I expect I ought to have found it touching but the truth is I was too cross. Also, I suppose, if I am to be honest, I was a bit hurt at her being so obviously eager to get away from us. Roly says, “Come on, it’s her dad! She hasn’t seen him for six months,” and I know that I mustn’t be jealous but it seems so unfair! He comes breezing in, three hours late, and she’s all over him with never so much as a backward glance for me and Roly. I offered the fool a cup of coffee (I wasn’t going to offer him lunch!) but I could tell that Cherry just wanted to be off.

  Oh, aren’t I sour and crabby! But I do dread her returning home full of discontent, telling me how wonderful it is at her dad’s and how horrible it is here. They’re bound to spoil her rotten, it’s only to be expected. And it will never occur to her that they’ve only had her for three days while we have her all the rest of the year! She’s a bright child, but not always the easiest, which I know is partly my fault. My fault and Gregg’s. Our getting divorced has been difficult for her. I keep telling myself that I must make allowances.

  Oh, but she can be so ungracious! Roly felt that he would like to give her something as a going-away present. A little something to take with her. He said would she like a book and I said yes, I thought a book would be an excellent idea, because one thing she does do is read, even if it is mostly schlock horror just at present. He went to such pains to find one that she would like! She is writing this diary at the moment (it is supposed to be a secret, but she lets slip these little remarks from time to time) and we suddenly remembered that wonderful book which you and I read when we were Cherry’s age. I Capture the Castle. Do you remember it? Cassandra Morton sitting on the draining board writing her journal with her feet in the sink? How we wallowed in it! So Roly combed through half the secondhand bookshops in London until he found an actual original copy and he slipped it into her bedroom while she was asleep, with one of his lovely funny little notes all done in pictures, telling her to take it with her to read while she was away, and what do you think? I’ve just been in there (it looks like a bomb site but I am not going to clear it) and she has just left the book lying on the floor! I haven’t dared to tell Roly, he would be so hurt.

  I really do begin to despair. It sometimes seems to me that the harder Roly tries the worse she treats him. And I have this horrible feeling that she is going to be even more impossible when she comes back from Gregg’s.

  Children! Think twice before embarking, no matter how handsome your Texan may be!

  Eagerly await news of developments from your end. Will report back from mine.

  Love from

  PS We are going to take the opportunity to redecorate the spare bedroom ready for the baby while Cherry is away. We are also going to go and buy all the necessary paraphernalia – prams, potties, nappies! I thought I’d finished with all that. Roly is really excited. I only wish Cherry were, so that we could share it. I could really look forward to the event if I thought that she were happy.

  Chapter 6

  Monday

  No time to write in here yesterday so I am doing it now while Rosemary has her bath and gets ready to go out. She takes a long time to get ready, at least she did yesterday when we went for a pizza. We are going to go out every single day that I am here! This is because Rosemary doesn’t like cooking, which is all right by me. I like to go out.

  Tonight we are going for an Indian meal and tomorrow we are going for a Chinese one. To think that at home we only go out about once every six months! But Dad and Rosemary both do proper jobs and so I expect they earn a lot more money than Mum and Slimey, which is only right. Just sitting about reading books and drawing elves can’t be classed as proper jobs. I don’t think so.

  I have only met Rosemary two times before so that I do not really know her very well. The times that I have met her are once before she got married to Dad (they did it in a love temple in the Seychelles. Incredibly r-r-r-romantic!) and once after, when they came back. That was almost a year ago. Since then I have only seen Dad in London except once when I came to Southampton just for the day and Rosemary was not there.

  She is quite pretty and wears lots of make-up and really smart clothes. She is younger than Mum and of course much slimmer. Even if Mum weren’t having this baby she would still be much slimmer. She and Dad go jogging every morning and Rosemary also does aerobics. Dad has started to play squash and is not anywhere near as pudgy as when he was driving the cab.

  It is I must say a great relief to be in a house – well, a flat actually – where everything isn’t being got ready for a baby. There are no signs of a baby in this place, thank goodness!

  It was strange at first being in a flat after being used to a house but now I think that I prefer it. I think it would be sensible if everyone lived in flats because then there would be a lot more land where
you could grow grass and trees. I think probably it is almost antisocial for people to live in houses. I am going to say this to Slimey next time he starts on about the environment and how we are ruining it. Dad and Rosemary aren’t taking up half the space that he and Mum take up! Also I enjoy everything being on one level so that you don’t have to keep rushing up and down the stairs all the time. Also there is a lift, in which you can meet people and talk. I shall live in a flat when I am grown-up – if I am not living in a cardboard box, that is.

  I told Dad about the cardboard box and he said that he will buy me a personal computer for my Christmas present. He said, “I cannot have a daughter of mine being computer-illiterate, but of course your mother has always had a tendency to be a bit of a Luddite.” I said what was a Luddite and he said they were people who went round smashing machinery. I said that I didn’t think Mum smashed it on purpose, she just wasn’t very good with it, like for instance last week she broke the handle off the washing machine and put the vacuum bag in the wrong way so that all the dust came flying out into the house.

  Dad said, “Typical! And I suppose he’s not much better?” I said, “Slimey? He’s even worse!” which isn’t strictly speaking true since it was Slimey who fixed the handle of the washing machine with superglue and changed the bag in the vacuum cleaner. But it’s true that neither of them knows the first thing about computers. Mum just uses her word processor like an ordinary typewriter, which was a thing that used to drive Dad mad when he was living with us. He was always trying to teach her different things that she could do with it and she wouldn’t listen. She used to say, “Oh, I can’t be bothered with all that!” Deliberate stupidity, Dad said it was.

  The journey from London to Southampton in Dad’s car was brilliant except that half-way here I started to feel sick, which Dad said was probably because I’d got out of the habit of travelling by car. I said yes, Slimey always insisted on going everywhere by bus or bicycle and Dad said the man was an idiot. He said, “Like it or not, the car is here to stay,” and, “You can’t put the clock back.” Anyway, we had to stop a couple of times so that I could get some air and then I felt all right again. But I have never felt car sick before. It is all Slimey’s fault.

  Today we went for a drive to the New Forest (I didn’t get sick this time) and had lunch in a pub, in the garden, and then drove to a place called Lymington, which is at the sea, but it was too cold to go swimming and so we just looked at it and came home again. Tomorrow Dad has to go into the office in the morning because there is a problem which only he can sort out, so Rosemary and I are going to meet him for lunch and then go round Southampton where there are some things to be seen, such as an old museum and an ancient wall. Also of course the docks. I am looking forward to it.

  I rang Mum last night to tell her that we had arrived safely as she worries about accidents, and she said, “So how are you getting on? I suppose everything is lovely?” I said that it was and that so far I was really enjoying myself (though in fact we hadn’t done very much at that stage). I said, “Dad’s told me I can stay till Friday if I want.” He told me in the car. It was one of the first things he said. He said, “Rosemary’s managed to wangle an extra two days and I’ll take off what time I can.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” I said to Mum. I thought she would be pleased but she didn’t sound very pleased. She just grunted and said, “If that’s what you want.”

  “Well, I thought I might as well,” I said. “Now that I’m here.”

  “That’s right,” said Mum. “Make the most of it. It doesn’t happen that often.”

  Then there was a pause and she said, “You left your book behind.” I couldn’t think what she was talking about. I said, “What book?” She said, “Roly’s book. The one he bought specially for you.” I knew from the tone of her voice that she was mad at me. I forgot all about his stupid book! I wouldn’t have brought it anyway. What do I want a book for, when I’m with Dad?

  Mum said, “You’re not worth giving things to, are you?” I am if they’re the right things, but anyway she needn’t go getting all wound up about it because I am also pretty wound up, if she wants to know. What I am wound up about is the thought of him actually opening my door and creeping into my room while I’m asleep. I don’t think he has any right to do that. He’s not my dad. But if I’d said so to Mum she’d only have got all defensive, like she always does where Slimey is concerned, and I didn’t want to quarrel with her over the telephone. So I just said, “Look, I’m sorry, I forgot,” and she said, “Yes, of course, you left in such a rush!” I think she was being sarcastic. It was the way she used to get with Dad when they were having words. I hope she’s not going to start on at me. It’s ever so nice and peaceful here. I don’t want Mum ringing up and making trouble.

  Tuesday

  The museum was very interesting. It is called The Wool House and is all full of relics from Napoleonic days. French prisoners were kept there and you can still see their initials where they’d carved them into the wooden beams. It gave me a strange feeling to think of them doing that all those years ago and me standing here today looking at them. It made me wonder if people in two hundred years’ time would stand and look at something I’d done, like for instance I once carved my initials on a tree and put the date. I imagined a girl like me finding it and wondering who I was and what had become of me. It was a bit creepy but at the same time comforting, to know that you have made your mark and will leave something behind you.

  Tomorrow we are going to Portsmouth to see the Victory, which is the ship that Nelson sailed in.

  Wednesday

  We couldn’t go to Portsmouth today because Dad was needed at the office again. Well, Rosemary and I could have gone but it wouldn’t have been the same without Dad. She said we could go if I liked, but I said I’d rather wait for him and she said she would, too. She said as a matter of fact there were things she had to do, like finishing off an evening dress she is making for herself for a very posh dinner party that she and Dad are going to on Friday night. She said would I mind terribly if she stayed in and did that?

  Of course I said no and she said I could do whatever I wanted, watch the television or go for a walk. She said there was a park just up the road, so I went up there but it wasn’t very interesting, no dogs to play with and nothing really to do, so I came back again and watched for a bit as she used her sewing machine and wondered why Mum couldn’t make her own clothes. Mum is absolutely useless, she can’t even sew on buttons properly. I also wondered why Mum couldn’t wear the sort of clothes that Rosemary wears. Her evening dress, for instance, is completely incredible, off the shoulder and showing lots of bosom.

  I have never ever seen Mum wearing anything like that.

  We were supposed to be meeting Dad again for lunch but he rang to say he wasn’t going to be able to make it (some very important Americans have come over and he has to be with them). I could see that Rosemary was a bit put out by this. I think she didn’t quite know what to do with me. She said, “I guess we’d better find some way of amusing you. There’s a zoo over on the Common. Would you like to go to the zoo?” I said that I was very sorry but I didn’t believe in zoos, I think it is cruel keeping animals locked up in small spaces, and she said, “Oh, you’re one of those, are you? I’m surprised you’re not a veggie.” I said, “I probably am going to be, soon,” and she pulled a face as if I’d announced that I was going to have all my teeth pulled out or my hands chopped off.

  Since I wouldn’t go to the zoo she suggested the cinema. She said, “There’s bound to be something suitable for children, seeing as it’s half-term.” I told her that I didn’t normally watch things that were suitable for children. She said, “Well, I’m not taking you to some ghastly horror movie, if that’s what you’re after.” I said she didn’t need to take me anywhere, I am quite accustomed to entertaining myself, and so we ate some soup and a tin of peaches in the kitchen and she went back to her evening dress and I came in here to write th
is diary.

  It’s now three o’clock and Dad still isn’t back. Rosemary thinks probably he won’t be back until about seven, when we can all go out for a meal. It’s difficult thinking what to do until then. I don’t really want to watch television because it’s in the same room where she’s doing her sewing and she’s got the radio on. I’ve looked for some books but there don’t seem to be any. I should have brought the one that Slimey got for me, but how was I to know that Dad would have to work?

  Maybe I could go into Southampton and buy something.

  Thursday

  I don’t think Rosemary will ever have a baby. I don’t think she likes children very much. I said to her yesterday that I was going to go into Southampton to look round the shops and she said, “You can’t go by yourself, you’ll get lost.” And then she heaved this big irritable sort of sigh and said, “I suppose I shall have to come with you.” We couldn’t go by car because Dad had taken it and so we had to go by bus, which is a thing I am quite used to on account of Slimey not driving but which I don’t think she is as she kept tapping her foot and looking at her watch and trying to find out from the timetable when the next one was due. It made me feel guilty, as if I ought to have stayed quietly indoors, but it’s just as well I didn’t as Dad didn’t get home until almost nine o’clock, by which time I had read two horror books (Scream and You’re Dead and House of Horror) and was absolutely starving.

  Today was better as we went to Portsmouth to see the Victory. Dad and I went; Rosemary didn’t come. The Victory was very interesting and it was nice being with Dad on my own. He was more like I remember him from the old days. When he is with Rosemary he is different. It is hard to describe it but he is not like my dad. He is more like one of those men that drive round in fast cars with pony tails and telephones. What Mum and Slimey call yuppies.