Cookie (2 page)

‘My silly name,’ I sniffed. ‘Beauty!’

‘I think Beauty’s the most special name in all the world.’

‘No it’s not. And it doesn’t suit me,’ I said tearfully. ‘Skye Wortley at school says I should be renamed Plug Ugly.’

‘Silly old Skye,’ said Sam. ‘I expect she’s so mean because she’s jealous of you.’

‘Oh, Sam, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say something stupid,’ I said. ‘As if someone like Skye would ever be jealous of
me
. Skye’s got lovely long wavy fair hair and big blue eyes –
sky
blue – and she’s clever and she’s great at dancing and she’s got Rhona as a best friend and – and—’

‘Well, you’ve got sand-coloured hair and great green eyes and you’re even cleverer than Skye and who cares about dancing and you’ve got Lily and me for your best friends,’ said Sam.

‘Truly? You and Lily are really my best friends?’

‘Absolutely definitely, aren’t we, Lily?’ said Sam, bending down and scratching her head. She stopped nibbling the cabbage, looked up, and nodded her head so vigorously her ears flapped forwards.

‘Well, you’re my best friends for ever ever ever,’ I whispered rapturously.

We smiled at each other, the three of us.

‘See you tomorrow, Beauty,’ Sam whispered.

Then he raised his voice.

‘Nearly time to go now. Time we were getting back to the hutch, Lily. You’ve had enough tea now.
Maybe
it’s time for
your
tea? I wonder what you’re having? Lily’s favourite tea is raw cabbage, as you can see, but somehow I don’t think raw cabbage is
your
favourite best-ever food. Still, maybe your pet likes it. Why don’t you send me a painting or drawing of
your
pet’s favourite food? Send it to Sam at the Rabbit Hutch, OK? Bye then.’ He waved, then picked up Lily and helped her waggle her paw.

‘Lily’s waving goodbye too,’ said Sam.

‘Bye, Sam! Bye, Lily!’ I said.

Rabbit Hutch
faded, and the cartoon Sam and Lily whirled round and round and the voice said, ‘Who have we just seen?’

‘
Sam and Lily in the Rabbit Hutch
,’ I sang.

‘
Sam and Lily in the Rabbit Hutch
,’ Mum sang too, coming in from the kitchen. ‘Do you want a little tea-time snack, sweetheart? I’ve bought a couple of those little pink iced buns, the ones with jam inside.’

‘But Dad said I wasn’t to eat them any more,’ I said.

I’d had a pink iced bun when we were all going round the Flowerfields shopping centre. I’d bitten into it and jam spurted all down the front of my best blue frilly top. Dad had knocked my hand hard so that the bun flew out onto the floor.

‘Don’t you ever buy her that pink jammy muck
again
,’ he’d hissed at Mum. ‘Look, she’s ruined her best little blouse. She didn’t ought to be stuffing her face anyway, she’s getting ginormous.’

Mum had meekly promised not to buy me any more buns and had whipped me into the ladies’ toilets to sponge all the jam off. I’d cried a little bit and she’d given me a hug but begged me to cheer up because I’d make Dad worse if he saw me with a long face. I’d done my best, though I’d felt particularly mournful as the pink buns were my favourites.

‘Dad won’t know if you gobble it up now,’ said Mum. ‘Hang on half a tick.’

She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two pink buns on her best little green-leaf cake plates.

‘Here, I’ll keep you company,’ said Mum.

We both sat cross-legged on the furry white hearth rug, eating our buns.

‘Yum, yum,’ I said.

‘Yep, yummy yummy,’ said Mum.

‘I’d better not spill jam all down me again,’ I said.

‘Me too!’ said Mum, licking the icing on her bun as if it was an ice lolly.

We munched companionably.

‘M-u-m?’

‘Yes?’

‘Mum, why do you think Dad gets so …’ I couldn’t think of the right word.

‘Cross?’ Mum suggested.

Dad didn’t just get cross. It was way way way more scary. He was like a volcano. You never quite knew when he’d erupt and explode and engulf you in molten lava.

Mum wriggled forward on her bottom until her knees nearly touched mine.

‘I don’t know why he’s like that,’ she said. ‘I used to think it was just me. I know I can be a bit silly sometimes – Silly Dilly, OK? But you’re not silly, Beauty, you’re the smartest little kid ever. He’s got no reason whatsoever to yell at you the way he does. I wish I could figure out a way to stop him. I’ve tried talking to him about it but that just makes him rant even more.’

Mum looked so miserable I felt awful. I crammed the last bit of bun into my mouth and then put my arms round her.

‘Don’t worry about it, Mum. Dad’s not cross
all
the time,’ I said. ‘Sometimes he can be the loveliest dad in the whole world.’

Sometimes.

Very very rarely.

We heard Dad taking his shoes off and putting them in the special rack by the doorstep. It was one of his many rules. All outdoor shoes must be left at the front door because we mustn’t risk scratching the polished parquet floor. Then he cleared his throat and started singing as he slid up the hall in his socks.

‘
Happy Homes, Happy Homes

Where everyone smiles

And nobody moans—
’

He skidded into the living room, grinning at us, his arms outstretched.

‘
There’s a mummy
’ – pointing at Mum.

‘And a daddy’
– pointing at himself.

‘And a gorgeous little girl’
– pointing at me.

‘So if we’re Happy in our Home

Then give us a
twirl
!
’

He twirled around foolishly, his toe pivoting on the thick pile of the living room carpet.

He paused.

‘GIVE US A TWIRL!’ he shouted, wafting his hands in the air.

Mum and I stood up immediately. Even if Dad was in a very good mood like today, the slightest thing could still upset him and make him turn.

Mum twirled around, holding up her skirt prettily, pointing her toes. I twirled too. I whizzed round too fast as I was in such a hurry to get it over. I managed to trip over my own slippered feet and nearly fell headlong.

‘Whoopsie!’ said Dad, catching me. ‘Dear goodness, Beauty! You’re so clumsy! I think we’d better send you back to those dancing lessons.’

My iced bun turned a somersault inside my tummy. Dad had sent me to ballet lessons when I was six. I was the oldest in the baby class. There were some tiny girls who were only three or four. They were all much better at dancing than I was. I couldn’t do bunny hops – I simply landed with a bump on my bottom. I couldn’t skip – my arms and legs went all wonky. I couldn’t point my toes properly – they wanted to point in, not out. And I couldn’t twirl gracefully to save my life.

I stuck it out for a year, until Miss June the dancing teacher tactfully told Mum that I didn’t seem to be
enjoying
my dancing classes so perhaps it might be better if I tried another hobby.

‘Please don’t make me do ballet again, Dad!’ I said.

‘Don’t you want to learn to dance like a little fairy?’ said Dad.

‘Fairy elephant, more like,’ I said.

Dad chuckled and ruffled my hair. He sat down in his big leather armchair and then pulled me onto his knee. He pulled Mum onto his other knee, as if we were both his little girls.

‘Hey, Gerry darling, did you get the planning permission for the Water Meadows project?’ Mum asked.

‘I’m still working on it, but it looks very likely,’ said Dad. ‘That’s what we need, two hundred spanking new, top-of-the-range Happy Homes with river views. They’ll make our fortune, Dilly, you wait and see.’

‘You’ve already made our fortune,’ said Mum.

‘I’ve worked hard for my girls, my wife, my daughter.’ Dad paused. ‘And my
ex
-wives and my layabout sons.’

Mum gave me a little frown. That meant,
Don’t say a word!

I was fascinated by the first Mrs Cookson and the second Mrs Cookson and my three half-brothers, Gerry Junior, Mark and Ryan. When we’d all met at Gerry Junior’s wedding and Grandma’s funeral I’d loved feeling part of a great big family. But Dad didn’t seem to like any of them any more. He especially didn’t like giving them any money, even though there seemed heaps to go round. The first two Mrs Cooksons had their own Happy Homes and now Gerry Junior and his new wife Julie had their own Happy Home too.

‘So that makes them blooming lucky,’ Dad said. ‘
I
didn’t have that kind of start in life. I had to make my own way.’

Dad had started off working on a building site at sixteen. He worked his way up, until he ended up buying the building firm. Then he branched out, becoming a property developer, building lots and lots of Happy Homes. There were starter Happy Homes for young couples, standard three-bedroom Happy Homes for ordinary families, and deluxe five-bedroom, two-bathroom Happy Homes for rich families.

We used to live in a deluxe Happy Home, but now we’d moved to an even bigger, fancier home specially built for us. We had
six
bedrooms, three bathrooms
and
a special wetroom and a hot tub outside. I even had my own en suite bathroom, dusty rose to match my pink bedroom, with silver dolphin taps.

Dad said I was the luckiest little girl in the world. He didn’t know of another child anywhere who had her own en suite bathroom. He kept asking me why I didn’t want to invite any of my friends from Lady Mary Mountbank for a sleepover. They could sleep in one of the twin beds with the dusty-rose silk coverlets patterned with sprigs of violets, sprawl on the pink and violet velvet cushions, comb their hair at my Venetian glass dressing table and admire every inch of my en suite bathroom.

I hadn’t invited anyone so far. It made
me
turn dusty rose in the face to admit it, but I didn’t really
have
any proper friends. I did wonder if I dared ask Rhona to tea, but that would annoy Skye and make her meaner to me than ever. Maybe Rhona wouldn’t come anyway.

I wasn’t even sure I wanted her to come myself. I’d probably feel dreadfully shy and not know what to say to her. What would we play for all those hours before bedtime? I liked reading when I was by myself but you couldn’t really read together. I liked painting but I had to do it in the kitchen with newspaper spread everywhere, long before Dad came home. I wasn’t supposed to do any painting whatsoever in case I spilled paint on the carpets.

Dad didn’t even allow felt-tip pens in case I got marks on the cream sofas. I was always very careful but Rhona was a giggly girl who never sat still. What if she flung her arm out when she was painting and accidentally spattered the wallpaper? If Dad saw he’d get into a rage whether Rhona was here or not.

I felt sick at the thought of Dad ranting in front of Rhona. I often cried because he scared me so. Perhaps he’d make Rhona cry too. Then she’d tell everyone at school. She’d definitely tell Skye because she was her best friend.

I kept pretending to Dad that I’d simply forgotten to ask anyone for a sleepover. He seemed to have forgotten himself for the last few weeks … forgotten until this very moment!

‘You still haven’t had any of your friends to stay, Beauty,’ said Dad, jogging me on his knee as if I was a little baby.

My heart started thudding. I nibbled my lip anxiously.

‘Don’t
do
that,’ said Dad, lightly tapping my mouth. He frowned at my teeth. ‘They’re sticking out
more
, Beauty. We’re definitely going to have to get you fitted out with braces.’

‘I don’t want braces,’ I mumbled.

‘You don’t want to end up looking like Bugs Bunny, do you?’ said Dad, pulling a silly rabbit face, making his own teeth protrude.

‘The dentist said to wait a year or so, darling,’ Mum said. ‘He’s not even sure Beauty really needs a brace.’

‘Nonsense! She needs perfect choppers, all girls do,’ said Dad. ‘
Anyway
, who’s your best friend at school, Beauty?’

‘I like Rhona, but she’s Skye’s friend, not really mine,’ I said.

‘Can’t you
all
be friends?’ said Dad. ‘Invite them both over. What about this Saturday?’

I breathed out thankfully.

‘I can’t this Saturday, Dad. That’s when Rhona’s having her birthday party,’ I said.

‘And you’re going to this party?’

‘Well, she’s given me an invitation.’

‘Lovely. Well, we’d better get cracking organizing a party for
your
birthday!’

I started nibbling my lip again.

‘
Stop
it!’ said Dad. ‘Yes, we’ll throw a really big bumper party for your birthday for every girl in your class, all your new Lady Mary Mountbank friends.’