Skinny Melon and Me (10 page)

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.

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.

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 this 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.

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.

When we got back from Portsmouth, Dad said I could go to the video shop and make my choice, as he had promised me. I was tempted to choose a horror film, just to show Rosemary that if I wanted to watch it I could, but then I thought maybe if I chose that Dad would be like Mum and break his promise and so I chose instead a film called
Strictly Ballroom
which is all about ballroom dancing which to be honest I am not really into but Skinny Melon had told me it had this really gorgeous-looking boy in it, and she was right, it did! He’s heaven. I am now seriously thinking of asking Mum if I can learn ballroom dancing. Imagine meeting a boy like that! (Some hopes!)

Dad and Rosemary, unfortunately, got bored. Rosemary went and sat over the other side of the room and switched on a light and did her sewing, and Dad went off to have a bath, so that I was left on my own. I didn’t really mind, I suppose, though it is nicer when other people enjoy what you enjoy. I think Mum would enjoy it. It is her sort of thing. Next time we get a video I shall tell her to get that one.

Tomorrow I am going home. I am trying to remember the things that I have seen and done so that I can tell Mum. I have been to the New Forest. I have been to the sea. I have been in the museum. I have seen the
Victory.
I have seen
Strictly Ballroom.
I have eaten: one Italian meal,
one Indian meal, one Chinese meal, one French meal, and one American meal (hamburgers, only I had a vegeburger thinking of Slimey and dead things in the fridge). I suppose that is quite a lot of things to have seen and done in five days.