Cookie (4 page)

‘Even its little chocolate beak and claws?’ said Mum. ‘Well, good for you! You had to wait long enough for your tea.’

She shook her head at the picture.

‘You’re so good at art, love. Can I keep it? We could frame it and hang it up in the kitchen.’

‘Well, I did it for Sam. You’re supposed to send your pictures in to the programme and then they show the best ones on the telly. But I think I’m a bit too old to send my picture in. It’s supposed to be a programme for very little kids. Don’t ever tell anyone I watch it, Mum.’

‘As if I would. It’s a lovely programme.
I
like it. So maybe it’s a programme for little kids and little mums. I like that Sam.’

‘So do I. And Lily.’ I sighed.

‘Oh, Beauty, I
wish
you could have your own
rabbit
. I’d give anything to change your dad’s mind. But there’s no way he’ll let you have any kind of pet, darling.’

I put my head on my knees.

‘I hate him,’ I muttered.

‘No you don’t. He’s your dad and—’

‘And he loves me very much –
not
,’ I said. ‘If he really loved us he wouldn’t get mad and he wouldn’t shout at us and he’d let me have a rabbit.’

‘He doesn’t
often
shout,’ said Mum. ‘It’s just when he’s really stressed out. He can’t seem to help it. He doesn’t always
mean
it. And I’m sure he feels sorry afterwards.’

‘Yeah, like,
I’m sorry, Dilly, my mouth just opens and out come all these awful words and I swear and say dreadful things but I can’t help it
. Has he
ever
said something like that, Mum? Has he ever even apologized?’

‘Don’t.’ Mum smoothed my straggly hair, tucking it behind my ears.

‘Maybe I’ll ask Dad to get me boxing gloves for my birthday and then I’ll bash him one if he shouts at us,’ I said.

‘Ha ha,’ said Mum. ‘How about eating one little triangle of tuna sandwich, eh? Just a little nibble.’

I tried a tiny bite. Then another. And then suddenly I was starving hungry and able to tuck into my tea. Mum had a triangle of tuna sandwich
too
, and we shared out the chips.

‘Mum?’

‘Yes, love.’

‘Sometimes I wish it was just you and me.’

‘Sh!’ Mum looked anxiously over her shoulder even though we knew Dad was at the Happy Homes office on the other side of town.

When we’d finished our tea and I’d got ready for bed Mum stayed in my room and we read stories together. Mum’s mum, my nana, never read her any stories at all, so it’s fun for Mum reading them for the first time with me.

We used to read lots of stories about fairies and then another series about a princess. Mum had just bought me a new princess book.

‘Oh dear, it’s not the same series. I’ve made a mistake. Typical me! It looks a bit queer and old-fashioned. It’s probably boring. We don’t have to read it if you don’t want to,’ said Mum.

‘I think it looks good,’ I said. ‘Look, I’ll start it off, OK?’

We put the tray on the floor and Mum squashed in beside me. I started reading about this little girl, Sara Crewe. I was interested that it said right in the first paragraph that she was odd-looking. Later on she said she was one of the ugliest children she’d ever seen. I especially liked that part.

Mum liked the bit where Sara’s father buys
her
a whole new set of clothes, and then another elaborate set for Sara’s new doll, Emily. Mum took her turn reading while I drew lots of velvet dresses and hats with feathers and fur coats and muffs and old-fashioned lace-trimmed underwear – a long row for Sara and a little row underneath for Emily.

We got so absorbed we jumped violently when we heard the car draw up outside.

‘Oh, lordy, that’s Dad back. Quick, chuck your crayons on the floor and settle down to sleep, pet, OK?’

Mum gave me a quick kiss, kicked my tray under the bed, switched off my light and rushed out of the room. I lay still. We’d forgotten to change my orange-juicy sheet and it felt uncomfortably damp and sticky.

I listened out for shouting. I could hear Dad talking but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then I heard
pad pad pad
as he came up the stairs in his socks. My heart started thudding. I shut my eyes tight and tried to breathe deeply, as if I was asleep.

I heard my door creak open.

‘Beauty?’ Dad whispered.

I tried not to twitch. I breathed in and out, in and out, in and out …

‘Beauty!’ said Dad, very near me now. His head was so close I could feel his breath on me.

‘I think you’re awake,’ said Dad. ‘I’m sure I saw your light on when I drove up.’

Eyes shut, keep breathing, don’t flinch
!

‘Oh, well. Never mind. You’re a very naughty girl, plaguing your old dad about pets, especially when I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment. No wonder I get cross! But remember this, sweetheart. Your daddy loves you. You’re his special Beauty.’ His voice thickened as if he was about to cry.

He gave me a kiss on my cheek. He stayed bent over me for a few seconds. I think he was hoping I’d put my arms around his neck. I kept them stiffly by my sides, my fists clenched. He sighed and then went out of my room, pulling the door to behind him.

I still didn’t dare move, just in case he poked his head back in and caught me fidgeting. I stayed in exactly the same position, cramped and uncomfortable, until I heard the television downstairs. Then I dared stretch out. My arms and legs throbbed. I breathed out so deeply my nostrils quivered. My insides still hurt though, as if someone had taken my long wiggly intestines and tied knots up and down them, like a string of sausages. I clasped PJ against my sore tummy and eventually went to sleep.

I sat chewing my cornflakes into mush. It was a small mouthful but it seemed to be swelling right up to the roof of my mouth, swilling in and out of my teeth, coating my tongue with orangey-gold slime. I tried swallowing but my throat wouldn’t work. I didn’t dare spit the cornflakes out into my bowl. I was doomed to keep them multiplying in my mouth until they spurted straight out of my ears.

‘Beauty? What are you pulling that silly face for? Aren’t you pleased I’m giving you a lift in the Merc? Make all your little friends envious, eh?’

I nodded, incapable of speech. My nod was the biggest fib ever. I didn’t want Dad to take me to school. I especially didn’t want him to take me in his shiny silver Mercedes. Mercedes was my middle name. It caused almost as much hilarity as my first name. Skye suggested I should be called Ugly Skoda Cookson. This always
made
Skye and Emily and Arabella fall about laughing.

‘
Say
something, then, don’t just nod your head,’ said Dad.

I swallowed desperately. Some of the cornflake slurp slid down the back of my throat.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ I mumbled, taking a long drink of juice.

The cornflakes were still such a soggy clump that I choked. I clamped my hand over my mouth while Mum patted me on the back. I leaned against her, rubbing my cheek against the soft silkiness of her nightie. I wished I was little enough for her to pick me up and hold me safe in her arms, still way too small for school.

I cleaned my teeth and went to the toilet and stuck my arms into my brown blazer. Dad sighed when he saw me.

‘I don’t know! I fork out for the poshest girls’ school in the whole county and they want you all to wear that ugly uniform the colour of dog’s muck.’

‘Gerry!’ said Mum.

‘Well, honestly, why can’t it be pink or lilac or some pretty girly colour? She looks like Little Orphan Annie.’ Dad tousled my hair in exasperation. ‘At least Little Orphan Annie had curls. Can’t you do something with Beauty’s hair, Dilly? What about a perm?’

‘She’s still a little girl! And I think Beauty’s got lovely hair just as it is,’ said Mum.

‘You’d like to be a little curlynob, wouldn’t you, Beauty?’ said Dad. ‘Couldn’t you put it up in those roller things at night for her, Dilly?’

‘People don’t use rollers any more!’ said Mum. ‘Not since bouffant hairdos went out of fashion.’

‘Oh well, pardon me, I’m just a sad old bloke who hasn’t got a clue about fashion,’ said Dad.

There was an edge to his voice. I held my breath, wondering if he was going to start ranting all over again, but he just shook his head at Mum and slapped her lightly on the bottom.

‘That’s right, you put me in my place, Dilly,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, then, Beauty, let’s get you to school.’

There was no way I could get out of it. I slumped down low on the soft leather back seat as Dad tooted his horn and shouted and swore his way through the traffic.

‘Idiot! Call yourself a driver! Come
on
, stop dithering, I’m late already,’ Dad fumed, honking at the car in front of us.

‘Tell you what, Dad, I could jump out here. It would only take me two minutes to walk up the road. Then you could go straight into town to the Guildhall.’

‘What? No, don’t talk nonsense, darling, I’m delivering you right to the school gates,’ said Dad.

There was no point wasting breath trying to persuade him. He drew up absolutely spit-spot in front of the school gates, even though there was an official notice on the gatepost warning parents not to park there. I didn’t dare point this out to Dad, but lots of the mothers and fathers delivering their own girls to school were staring, some even raising their eyebrows and shaking their heads.

The Mercedes was always a noticeable car. Now it seemed as big as a double-decker bus. I undid my seat belt, struggled with the door handle and hurtled out of the car.

‘Thanks for the lift, Dad,’ I gabbled.

‘Hey, don’t I get a kiss from my Beauty?’ Dad called loudly from his open window.

Arabella and Emily were standing watching. They nudged each other, sniggering, as I kissed Dad’s cheek.

‘Bye bye, Beauty!’ he called.

Arabella and Emily were practically wetting themselves.

‘Hello hello, Ugly!’ said Arabella. ‘So Big Daddy brought you to school today, eh?’

‘Don’t you know you’re not supposed to park outside the gates? Does your dad think he’s so special in that great big silver sardine tin that rules don’t apply to him?’ said Emily.

I tried to march past but they took an arm each,
hanging
onto me. I craned round and saw Dad waving at me cheerily, thinking I’d met up with my two best friends – instead of my two worst enemies. No, Skye was the worst enemy of all. There she was, singing and dancing in the playground, showing off some silly routine she’d learned from the television, tossing her long blonde hair and wiggling her hips. She should have looked ridiculous but she didn’t. She sounded like a
real
singer and strutted like a
real
dancer. You couldn’t help watching her. It wasn’t just me. We were all watching, everyone in the whole playground, and all the girls were wishing they were Skye, even me.

Skye finished with a flourish, arms up, as if expecting applause. Some of the girls started clapping as if it was a real show and Skye was the star. Rhona clapped too, begging Skye to show her how to do the little skippy strutty bit.

‘Show us too, Skye!’ said Arabella, dropping my arm. ‘You’re so good you ought to go on
Watchbox
!’

‘Hey, Skye, did you see old Ugly coming to school in her dad’s silver rubbish car?’ said Emily, giving me a little shove.

‘Oh my, the Flashmobile,’ said Skye, shading her eyes, pretending to be dazzled. ‘Ooh, let’s all act like we’re impressed.’

She pranced around, Arabella and Emily
copying
her. Rhona went on skipping and strutting, working her way over to me.