Twin Tales (5 page)

6. Purple Puddles

Granny bought Connie an ice cream from the van on the way home from school. A giant 99 with strawberry sauce. She didn't mention a jumbo lolly or a Mars Bar or a KitKat but Connie knew she'd better not push her luck.

‘Thanks ever so, Granny,' she said, licking happily.

‘You'd better not tell your mum,' said Granny.

Connie and Granny looked at each other. Connie decided Granny didn't mean the ice cream. Granny glanced over her shoulder, checking that there was no one else around. Especially not another granny or two.

‘Course I won't tell,' said Connie, slurping up strawberry sauce.

She felt quite a lot better. When they got home Connie called out a chirpy, ‘Hi there, Mum,' the moment she got in the front door.

‘Sh!' Mum hissed.

‘Waaaaa!' wailed Charles.

‘Waaaaa!' wailed Claire. ‘Oh no,' said Mum. ‘For goodness sake, Connie! I'd just spent the last twenty minutes rocking them, trying to get them to nod off. And now you've got them started all over again.'

‘I only said hello,' said Connie, wounded. ‘I didn't know the babies were asleep.'

‘Well, they're certainly not asleep now,' Mum said grimly.

‘I'll see to them, dear,' said Granny. ‘Then I'd better get home to Grandpa. Connie, you go and put the kettle on, there's a darling. I'm sure Mum could do with a cup of tea.'

Connie went into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle. She decided to be really helpful even though Mum hadn't been very welcoming. She laid the tray with cups and saucers and set out some biscuits from the tin. She nibbled a biscuit or two herself as she was feeling peckish, in spite of the giant 99 ice cream.

The twins were still yelling furiously in the other room. They sounded more than a bit peckish themselves.

Connie fixed herself a drink of blackcurrant juice. Karen's baby sister Susie loved blackcurrant juice. She'd glug so much she generally looked as if she was wearing purple lipstick. Maybe baby Charles and baby Claire might fancy a drink of juice?

Connie fished out two baby bottles from the sterilizing unit and filled them up with diluted blackcurrant juice. The bottles were a bit fiddly, and she had a job fixing on the rubber teats. Her fingers slipped, her hand shook . . . and suddenly there was a crash. The bottle didn't break but as it skidded across the kitchen floor it sprayed purple juice all over everything.

‘What was that?' Mum called, and she came hurrying into the kitchen. She didn't look where she was going and stepped right into a purple puddle.

‘What on earth . . .? Oh Connie!'

‘I was just trying to help, Mum,' said Connie.

‘Oh yes, this is a big help,' said Mum, crossly, getting the floor mop. ‘Why were you playing around with the babies' bottles? I shall have to scrub them out and sterilize them all over again.'

‘I thought they'd like a drink of blackcurrant juice, that's all,' said Connie.

‘Oh, don't be so silly, Connie, they're far too little for that sort of drink. Why couldn't you just do as you were told?'

‘You told me you wanted me to help you,' said Connie.

‘Well, now I'm telling you to leave well alone,' said Mum, wringing out the sticky purple cloth and dabbing at the stains on her slippers.

‘All right,' said Connie, and she flounced off upstairs.

It wasn't fair. She hadn't dropped the wretched bottle on purpose. She couldn't seem to do anything right. Mum didn't even seem to want to talk to her any more.

Connie flopped on to her bed, moodily picking at the patches on her quilt. She remembered she wasn't talking to Karen either. Karen and Angela had gone off together after school. She couldn't understand what Karen saw in that awful Angela.

‘She looks really daft when she dances,' Connie mumbled to herself.

She got up off the bed to do an imitation of Angela dancing, sticking out her feet and waggling her bottom rather a lot. She caught sight of herself in her mirror and giggled. She attempted several Angela-style leaps in the air, and landed with a thump.

There was a distant wail. And another.

‘
Connie
!' Mum sounded very cross indeed. ‘Whatever are you doing now? How dare you jump about like that! You've woken the twins
again
. Are you being deliberately naughty?'

‘No!' said Connie, flinging herself back on her bed.

She was in trouble again and it really wasn't fair. She wasn't being naughty. Mum didn't understand.

Connie buried her head in her pillow. She fiddled with her hair for comfort. Her fingers found her new little plait. She twiddled the two blue beads and they clinked together and even in the dark depths of her pillow Connie saw a strange blue spark . . .

7. Fun Mums

There was a knock on Connie's bedroom door. Two knocks. ‘Are you in there, Connie dear?'

‘May we come in, poppet?' Connie sat up straight. She swallowed.

‘Who is it?' she called, tentatively.

‘It's Mum, darling.'

‘Surely you know your own mum?'

Two twin mums stepped into Connie's bedroom and smiled at her. They looked a lot like her own old mum, but these twins were much more glittery and glossy. They were both wearing Mum's sparkly sequined evening dress and they were wearing Mum's rings and bracelets and necklaces all at once, so that they jingled as they walked. They'd sprayed on so much flowery scent that Connie sneezed.

‘Do you like our perfume, darling?' ‘

Would you like a little squirt, mmm?'

They produced twin bottles and sprayed Connie's neck and wrists, while she wriggled and giggled.

‘Connie?' It was Connie's own ordinary mum calling up the stairs. ‘Connie, what are you up to now? What's that smell? You're not playing around with my birthday present perfume, are you?'

‘No, Mum,' Connie called truthfully.

Mum wasn't convinced. She came plodding purposefully up the stairs.

‘Connie, I'm getting very cross with you. You're telling me fibs, aren't you? The whole house
reeks
of perfume.'

She barged into Connie's bedroom and then stood stock-still in her stained slippers, staring at the new twin mothers.

‘Who are you?' she gasped.

‘We're Connie's new twin mums, of course.'

‘Don't you ever knock when you come into our Connie's bedroom?'

‘She's not your Connie. She's mine!'

‘Oh, you're only her old mum. She's got us now.'

‘We're much much nicer, aren't we, Connie? Here, would you like to play Grown-up Ladies, sweetie? Try stepping out in my high heels.'

She kicked off her glittery dance shoes and Connie tried them on, staggering a few steps across her carpet.

‘Those are my shoes!' said Mum. ‘Take them off at once, Connie. I told you, you'll twist your ankle.'

‘She's all gloom and doom, that old mum of yours, isn't she, Connie? We're much more fun.'