Twin Tales (13 page)

Gran went into her living-room – and gave a shriek. Connie rushed in after her.

‘Look!' said Gran, pointing with a shaking finger.

‘Wow!' said Connie.

The new television and video recorder were hissing and buzzing and crackling ominously, lightning forks of electricity shooting off in all directions. They were covered with hundreds of knobsand buttons, all of them lighting up and flashing like Christmas-tree lights. There were clocks and time switches all over the place, numbers blurring they were going so fast. Different programmes danced across the screen of the television set, while the video recorder opened up all by itself and sucked in Gran's favourite video, The Sound of Music. It chewed it all up in a split second and spat it out again with a very rude electronic burp.

‘Oh my goodness!' Gran wailed. ‘I'll have to phone the television man again! I don't know what to do. He's shown me how to work it twice but I can't get the hang of it at all – and the instruction booklet is written in a completely foreign language. Grandpa's too old to work it out – and I'm so useless with modern machines. They scare me so.'

Gran cowered away from the television, squealing as an entire firework display shot out of the set and circled the ceiling.

‘It's OK, Gran,' said Connie cheerily. ‘It's a bit silly to be scared of a television, but never mind. I don't know. I can't understand the way you grown-ups feel about machines. We children don't act so daft. It's really easy-peasy. Look!'

She sauntered up to the television and video and pressed a button. They instantly subsided. Connie inserted
The Sound of Music
and pressed another button. It rewound, as good as new. Then Connie selected the right channel and pressed one more button. Gran's quiz programme came on to the screen.

‘There we are, Gran. I'll set your video so that it records it automatically for you in future, OK?'

‘Oh, Connie! You clever clever clever little girl,' said Gran, clapping her hands.

And Grandpa woke up at last and gave Connie a big smile.

7. Driller Dentist

Connie woke up with a start, her arms and legs flailing. She pushed back her duvet, gasping for air – and then sighed with relief. She was safe in her own dry bed – not down in the depths of that cold blue pool.

She glanced at her Little Mermaid alarm clock (oh dear, even that seemed sinister nowadays!) to see if it was time to get up.

‘Mum! Dad! We've slept in,' Connie called, jumping out of bed.

Mum and Dad came staggering out of their bedroom, their eyes all peepy and their hair sticking up on end.

‘Claire and Charles cried half the night!' Mum said. ‘I had to give them another feed at four o'clock this morning – and
still
they didn't settle.'

The twins woke up at the sound of their names and started wailing.

‘Oh no!' said Mum, staggering down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. ‘Connie, you'd better share the bathroom with Dad. You have a very quick in-and-out bath while Dad shaves.'

‘You haven't got enough water in that bath,' said Dad, his mouth all sideways because he was shaving.

‘It's fine,' said Connie, having a quick swish.

‘Don't be silly – it's only a couple of centimetres! You can't wash in that,' said Dad, reaching out to turn the bath taps back on.

‘I don't want it any deeper!' Connie yelled.

‘Oh, for goodness sake! You're not scared of the
bath
now, are you? This is ridiculous, Connie. You're not a
baby.
You've got to conquer this stupid fear or you'll end up completely loopy – and you'll drive us all daft as well. Aaaaah!'

It was Dad who sounded daft, screeching like that. He'd concentrated too much on Connie and not enough on his shaving.

Connie hunched up in her shallow bath, twisting her little plait and twiddling the blue beads for all she was worth.

‘What's going on? Are you all right?' said Mum, putting her head round the door.

‘No, I'm not! I've cut myself,' said Dad, trying to staunch the wound with a little wad of toilet paper.

‘Well, hurry up out the way and let Connie clean her teeth in the basin. I've just noticed a ring round the date on the calendar downstairs. Connie's got to go to the dentist for her check-up. It's a nine o'clock appointment – so you'll have to step on it. You can both have breakfast afterwards,' said Mum.

‘What? What are you on about?
I
can't take Connie to the dentist. I've got to go to work.'

‘I'm sorry, you'll just have to be late for work for once. I can't possibly take Connie in time.'

‘But you know I can't . . .' said Dad, looking strange.

Mum sighed. ‘Look, I'd normally take Connie, you know that. But she simply can't miss her appointment. Not like
some
people.' Mum sounded a bit strange too.

Dad still acted strange as he was driving Connie to the dentist. His hands were all shaky as he clutched the wheel of the car, as if he was very cold – and yet he had little beads of sweat on his forehead. His face twitched every now and then, and the little wad of toilet paper stuck to his shaving cut twitched too.

‘Dad, are you all right?' said Connie.

‘Yes, of course I am,' said Dad. But his voice was all high and wavery – almost as if he was
scared
.

‘You've still got toilet paper stuck to your face, Dad,' said Connie, as they drew up outside the dental surgery.

Dad swatted it away from his chin. He switched off the ignition. He gave Connie a very weird wild smile.

‘Off you go then, Connie. I'll just wait for you in the car,' he said.

Connie stared at Dad. ‘But you have to come in too, Dad. You have to sign all the forms and stuff.'

‘Oh dear. Right.'

He seemed to have great difficulty getting out of the car. He wavered all over the place going up the pathway to the surgery door.

‘I think you might have really hurt yourself shaving. Maybe you'vegot tetanus or something, from the cut?'

‘Don't be silly, Connie,' Dad murmured, and then he staggered into the surgery.

Connie followed him and looked round in astonishment. It seemed to have changed a great deal since she was last there six months ago. The waiting-room was terribly cold and all the pictures were missing from the walls. All the magazines and toys had been cleared away. There were just horrible leaflets with pictures of people with bleeding mouths and crumbling teeth.

Connie was great friends with the pretty young receptionist – but she didn't seem to be around today. There was a fierce frowny woman in her place in a crackly white uniform, wearing a mask and rubber gloves.

She pointed straight at Dad.

‘Aha! You're the man who's missed all his appointments!'

‘I'm sorry,' Dad said – and then a terrible, achingly loud drilling sound started up in the next room. It was so ear-splitting that the wall vibrated and Connie was jiggled up and down. Dad threw himself to the floor, his hands over his mouth, and whimpered. Then the drill suddenly stopped and they heard footsteps outside.

Someone burst into the waiting- room, a huge terrifying white figure in cap and gown. He was holding huge steel pointed instruments in either hand and was chuckling manically behind his white mask.

Dad took one look at him and shrieked.

But Connie smiled. ‘What's up, Dad? You're not scared of the dentist, are you? This is ridiculous. You're not a baby. You've got to conquer this stupid fear or you'll end up completely loopy! There's nothing at all to be scared of.'

‘Of course there's nothing to be scared of, Connie,' said the dentist – and he shrank back to his usual jolly self. His terrifying steel instruments vanished, happy music played in the prettily decorated waiting-room, and the young receptionist waved at Connie.

‘Hi there, Connie. Are you here for your six-monthly examination?' She looked at Dad, who was standing up sheepishly. ‘Goodness! You've brought your dad with you today. It's a
very
long time since we've seen you. Would you like an appointment too?'