Skinny Melon and Me

by Jean Ure

  Oh, I nearly forgot. There is also a nice-looking but rather dopey boy called Steven. Steven loves Cassandra and Cassandra is very fond of him but not in the way that he would like. The family owe Steven a great deal as he works for them for nothing and also goes out and earns money which he gives them. Without him they would not survive.

  I have never read a book quite like this before and I can’t wait to get back to it! I thought after horrors it would be slow and boring but it is not at all. Skinny is going to read it when I have finished.

  Thursday

  I forgot to write in here yesterday.

  Friday

  Stewed sewage and gunge. Thank goodness we have decided to go veggie!

  Saturday

  This morning we went to buy some fish for the pond. Fish, I feel, are basically uninteresting. All they do is swim up and down and gobble with their mouths.

  I kept pointing out ones I thought we should have but these, it seems, all the ones I wanted, are warm water fish and not suited to outdoor life. They wouldn’t be, would they? Mum said, “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Cherry, stop being so awkward! You know perfectly well this is a pond, not an aquarium.” I said, “If we’d had an aquarium we could have had some of the pretty ones.” At least you could sit and look at them and get a bit of pleasure that way. Mum snapped (she is always snapping these days), “If it weren’t for Roly you wouldn’t have anything!”

  I beg her pardon. If it weren’t for Roly I could have my dog.

  Now the pool is full of boring old fish that half the time you can’t even see. If we had a dog he could get in there and chase them.

  I nearly forgot to mention that this evening we all went to the fireworks display. It was up in the park and it was really good. Skinny doesn’t like the bangers, but I do! The louder the better is what I say. (Mum and Slimey like the pretty ones. Wouldn’t you know it?)

  Sunday

  Oh ho ho! Something has eaten the fish. They think it might be a heron. I am sorry for the fish but herons need to eat and if stupid human beings will go digging ponds in their back gardens and filling them with food, what do they expect? They might just as well write a big sign saying:

  Mum says I am cruel and heartless but I am not. It is in a heron’s nature to eat fish. They are programmed to eat fish. They can’t do anything else. It is what the fish expect. And anyway Mum still eats prawns, she says it’s her “one weakness”. What are prawns if not fish? I told her this and she snapped (again), “That is not the point!”

  So if that is not the point, what is?

  141 Arethusa Road

  London W5

  6 November

  Dear Carol,

  I am too cross to be civil. I am almost too cross to write. Cherry is trying my patience beyond the limits!

  Yesterday we stocked the pond with fish and this morning when we woke up almost all of them had gone (a heron, we think). Roly was devastated. He had already begun to personalise them. There was Goldilocks and the Cheeky Chappie and Bright Eyes. Bright Eyes is still with us, but Goldilocks and the Cheeky Chappie have both gone. Two of his favourites! That wretched child thought it was funny. She actually laughed. She made some joke about putting up a sign saying “Breakfast this Way”. Then she said, quite rudely, that I still ate prawns so what was I so upset about?

  I tell you, I could have hit her! She simply tramples over all Roly’s emotions. She is too young to realise what a rare and precious thing it is to find a man who has feelings and isn’t afraid of showing them. I suppose she takes it as some kind of weakness and like a typical bully can’t resist putting the boot in.

  Roly, as usual, speaks up in her defence. He says that you can’t really bond with a fish and that she is quite right, herons have to eat. She could still try to be at least a little sympathetic! Roly has slaved over that pond in an attempt to please her. How far do you have to go to try and keep your children happy?

  To the ends of the earth, says Roly, if that is what it takes. We bring them into this world, he says; they do not ask to be born. I retort that he played no part in bringing this particular little horror into the world but he says that he has gatecrashed her living space and hijacked her mother and that she has every right to show her displeasure.

  I don’t think she has! You couldn’t find a better man than Roly.

  Lots of love,

  PS Forgive self-pity and bad manners, I know I’m a rotten correspondent. But Cherry is so trying!

  PPS Don’t forget I want a photograph!

  Chapter 8

  Monday

  I wish I hadn’t laughed about his stupid old fish. He spent ages picking them out, choosing the ones with personalities. Well, he said they had personalities. Perhaps he really thinks they do. It is true he wouldn’t have had time to get attached to them, I don’t think, but I can see that it was a bit upsetting for him. He is quite soft about animals and as a matter of fact so am I, which is why I am glad I have decided after Christmas to give up eating them. Mum is giving up because of Slimey but I am giving up because of principles. Also because of not wishing to be poisoned, but that is really only a small part of it.

  I am not sure why Skinny is doing it. Maybe just because of me. She does like animals, but I don’t think she truly appreciates how lucky she is to have a dog. Sometimes she grumbles about having to take Lulu for her walks. I would never do that. If I had a dog I would take it out happily and gladly every single day.

  I thought of telling Slimey that I was sorry I laughed about his fish, but if I did Mum would think it was because of her getting mad at me. He would be bound to tell her. They tell each other everything. When I am married I will still want to have secrets. If I am married. It might be difficult, living in a cardboard box.

  Tuesday

  Found out about Parents’ Evening and rang Dad. He said, “Right! Got it. It’s going in my diary. Have you told your mother?” So I went and told Mum and she wailed, “Oh, Cherry! Did you have to?” I said, “Have to what?” and she said, “Invite your father!” I said, “It is Parents’ Evening? And Dad is my parent.”

  There wasn’t very much she could say to that.

  I know why she doesn’t want him there. It’s because she wants to drag Slimey along with us. Well, it’s my school and Dad’s my parent and he’s going to come whether Mum likes it or not!

  Wednesday

  Told Skinny about Dad coming to Parents’ Evening. She said, “What about Roly?” I said, “What about him? He’s not my dad!” Skinny said she knew that, but wouldn’t he be hurt?

  Why should he be hurt? He can go to Bernard Butter’s rotten Parents’ Evening. He’s not coming to mine!

  Friday

  Forgot to write in here yesterday. I keep forgetting to write. I forgot last week, as well, only then it was Wednesday. And all I wrote on Thursday was just one line. Partly this is because of the enormous gigantic amount of homework they give us at this school and partly it is because of having to stay late for rehearsals and partly it is because of wanting to get back to my book. The I Capture the Castle book. I am nearly at the end of it and am getting worried about what is going to happen. I couldn’t bear it if Rose got Neil!

  Saturday

  She did! She got him! And Cassandra ended up with boring old Simon. If it hadn’t been for that it would have been one of the very best books I have ever read. Well, it still is one of the best books I have read but I think she got the ending wrong, that is all. I am going to write a note to Slimey and tell him so. And then I am going to put the note under the door of the back room where he does his elves.

  I have written the note. It is a nice one to make up for laughing about his fish.

  What I have said is this:

  I put the xxx bit just to be polite.

  Sunday

  Sereena came over for tea. It was Mum’s idea. I kept waiting eagerly for her to start telling some of her dirty jokes but she just sat there looking like she’s made of marshmallow, all soft and sweet and gooey.


  It was repulsive! Specially as I happen to know what she’s really like. I told her about Slimey’s book that he gave me and she said it sounded as though it would be a bit too grown-up for her. How two-faced can you get? She said, “I’m still reading Judy Blume.” “Oh, you mean like Forever?” I said, kicking at her ankle underneath the table. Her satellite dishes went huge as flying saucers. She said, “That’s a rude one, isn’t it? My mum wouldn’t like it if I read that.”

  Mum said, “Three cheers for your mum!” which was a totally meaningless remark considering she hasn’t the faintest idea what Forever is about. At least, I don’t think she has. It was also hypocritical, since she has never stopped me reading anything I wanted. She was just sucking up to Sereena.

  I was really disappointed in that girl. Talk about playacting! Now of course Mum is convinced she’s the sweetest thing there ever was and is trying to talk Mrs Swaddle into sending her to Ruskin Manor next term. She thinks she would be a good influence on me. Ha!

  141 Arethusa Road

  London W5

  13 November

  Dear Carol,

  Things go from bad to worse. Now she won’t even talk to Roly but simply puts notes under his door! Well, one note. Ungracious as usual. She says she liked I Capture the Castle but thought the ending was wrong. She says Cassandra should have had Neil, as Simon is too old and has a beard. I pointed out rather tartly that as a matter of fact, if she had read the book properly, she would have noticed that he shaved it off, but she said she had read it properly and she knows he shaved it off but it didn’t make any difference, she still thought of him as having a beard. She said that he was “a beardy sort of person” and that Rose going off with Neil ruined the entire story. How perverse can you get?

  Roly says she is simply exercising her critical faculty. He also says that her note is in return for his cards and it shows she is willing at last to start a dialogue. Some dialogue! Ungrateful little beast.

  The little girl over the road came to tea this afternoon. Sereena. I personally find her quite delightful – quite refreshingly innocent – and would be only too happy if she and Cherry became friends but Cherry is being her usual churlish self. Whenever I mention her name she either sniggers, as if I’ve said something secretly amusing, or else she rolls her eyes and groans, as if I’ve said something incredibly moronic. Roly, surprisingly enough, has not taken to her. Sereena, I mean. He said there is something that doesn’t quite ring true but he cannot put his finger on it. I told him that he has lived with my ghastly daughter for too long and has forgotten what normal, nice children are like!

  Who’d be a mother? Tell your gorgeous Hunk that you intend to preserve your sanity and remain childless!

  All my love,

  Chapter 9

  Monday

  When I got home from school today there was a parcel waiting for me from America! I tore it open and inside was a box which said “Armadillo Droppings” with a picture of an armadillo. An armadillo looks like this:

  Armadillo droppings look like this:

  They are round and squidgy and treacle-coloured and you can eat them! Of course they are toffees in fact, but very realistic. Mum said, “Trust Texans!” and shuddered when I offered her one. She said, “They’ll stick your teeth up.” Slimey on the other hand ate two and said they were “yummy” (which is the sort of word he likes to use). For once I have to agree with him! They are incredibly, scrumptiously yummy! I ate four, one after another, until Mum told me to stop being piglike, which is unfair to pigs who are actually not greedy animals left to themselves, but anyway I thought I had better stop or I would have eaten them all and I want to take them in to school tomorrow and see people’s faces when I say, “Have an armadillo turd!”

  Now I suppose I must write and say thank you. It is much easier to pick up the telephone, even all the way to Texas, but Mum would have a fit so I’d better not.

  Tuesday

  I took the armadillo droppings to school and everyone thought it was hilarious except for Mrs James who said, “What on earth have you got there, Cherry?” and when I showed her she pulled a face and said, “That is what I call bad taste.” I don’t call it bad taste! I call it scrummy! She should have tried one, but she wouldn’t. Some people just have no sense of humour.

  I went over to Sereena’s place when I got in from school and showed her the box (which now alas was empty). I waited till we were in her bedroom as I didn’t think her mother would like it. All Sereena said was, “I bet they didn’t look anything like the real thing!” I said, “They did. They looked just like it.” She said, “How do you know? Have you ever seen an armadillo dropping?” I had to admit that I hadn’t. Then she told me something really gross.

  She told me that the brother of her best friend Sharon where she used to live works as a camera man for a TV crew and one day they went into this prison to make a film and they wanted to show the prisoners emptying their buckets that they’d done things into during the night and she said, “They didn’t want to use the real thing ‘cos that would be horrid and smelly so they made up this yellow mixture with lemonade powder and then they got some brown playdo and rolled it in porridge oats and dropped it into the lemonade water with bits of toilet paper and you couldn’t tell the difference.” She said, “That’s the sort of thing they do when they make films.”

  Ugh! I think that’s far nastier than armadillo droppings. And that was in England.

  Wednesday

  When I got in from school Mum told me that there had been a telephone call from Dad saying that unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to get to Parents’ Evening after all as he had a meeting to attend and wouldn’t be finished in time. Mum said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know you really wanted him to come.”

  It isn’t very often that Mum calls me things like sweetheart. I knew it was because she was feeling sorry for me, and not wanting to gloat (on account of she’d said all along that Dad wouldn’t turn up, or if he did it would only be to annoy her).

  “It is quite a long way for him to travel,” she said, trying, I suppose, to make things seem better.

  I said, “He promised!” But what do grown-ups’ promises mean? Mum promised me a dog, Dad promised to come to Parents’ Evening. Neither of them did what they said.

  I tried ringing Skinny Melon, thinking it would be nice to have a bit of a laugh about something – anything, really – but all the Melon wanted to do was moan about our maths homework which she said she couldn’t understand. If the Melon can’t understand it I certainly won’t be able to. I’m not going to bother with it. Why should I?

  Thursday

  Tomorrow is Parents’ Evening, which a few days ago I was looking forward to. Now I just think it’s a drag. Last year when I was at Juniors, Mum went on her own. This year she’s making me go with her. She’s also taking Slime, which is what she wanted all along.

  I said, “Why do I have to come?” She said, “Because you’re the one it’s all about.” So then I said, “Why does he have to come?” and she said, “If you’re referring to Roly, it’s because he’s just as interested in your welfare as I am.” Then she added, “Though sometimes I wonder why he bothers.”

  I haven’t asked him to bother. I don’t want him to come. Trying to get round me, Mum said, “Surely it will be nicer for you to have both of us there?” I said, “Why?” And she said, “Well, it’s more normal to have two parents, isn’t it?” I said, “Not really. Not these days. There’s lots of kids with only one.” To which she snapped, “So what have you been making all the fuss about?”

  What fuss? I never made any fuss.

  She said, “If there are all these other kids whose parents have got divorced, what’s so special about you?”

  I never said there was anything special. And just because I’m not the only one whose mum and dad have split up doesn’t make it any better. It’s my dad I care about.

  I didn’t say any of this to Mum. We don’t ever really talk about t
hings like that. We just get mad at each other and she snaps and tells me I’m selfish and ungracious, which is what she did now.

  It’s true I was in quite a bad mood tonight. I don’t know why. Sometimes I just am.

  Friday

  As we were about to set off for school to go to Parents’ Evening, Slimey suddenly said, “Cherry, do you mind me coming along? I won’t if you’d rather I didn’t.”

  It made me feel terrible. He’d got dressed up specially in his best clothes. He looks all funny and peculiar in them, like a sort of long floppy beanstalk inside a suit. His trousers bag at the back because he hasn’t got any bum and his pockets sag because he keeps things in them. Pens and pencils and little notebooks for drawing. I wanted to say that as far as I was concerned I’d rather he didn’t come anywhere near the place, but I couldn’t bring myself. I just mumbled something like, “That’s all right, I don’t mind.” His face went into this big happy beam and that was that. I was stuck with him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t looked so odd, but what with Mum being all fat with the baby and Slimey being all bean-stalky and thin, they made a right weird couple.