‘Can I have a turn, Selma?’ Phil asked.
‘And me? Please let me,’ Maddie said.
You should share with your best friend, but sometimes you have to draw the line at your best friend’s sisters.
I ignored them, so Tina did too. They begged harder.
‘Stop going on at me,’ I snapped.
‘But why won’t you let us have a go?’ asked Phil.
‘It’s my turn now,’ said Maddie, and she tried to snatch the mobile off Tina.
‘Stop it!’ I said, and I snatched it back.
Maddie gave a little gasp.
‘Selma!’ said Tina’s mum.
‘I didn’t do anything!’ I said. Well, I might have accidentally on purpose given her the tiniest shove, but I didn’t hurt her.
‘Yes you did,’ said Phil. ‘Come on now, Selma, don’t be so mean. You’ve let Tina take heaps of photos.’
‘But Tina’s my best friend,’ I said.
‘Phil and Maddie are your friends too,’ said Tina’s mum.
‘No they’re not,’ I muttered in a very tiny voice so they couldn’t quite hear.
‘Let’s give the photos a rest and have a sing-song,’ said Tina’s dad. ‘Me first. Right, Selma, prepare to be amazed. The King of Rock, Elvis himself, has been reincarnated in Yours Truly. Imagine me with the quiff, the sideways smile, the wiggly hips, the blue suede shoes.’
He started singing all these songs about hound dogs and hotels and jailhouses and tender love. The triplets groaned but they sang along too, and even Tina’s mum joined in.
‘Come on, Selma, sing up,’ said Tina’s dad.
But I didn’t know any of the words. We didn’t sing much at home. I sat clutching my mobile, fingering the little pink beads. I wanted to take more selfies but I managed to stop myself. Then Tina’s dad started singing a song about going on a summer holiday. I didn’t know that one either, but he sang it three times, and by then I knew the tune and most of the words. We sang it and sang it and sang it, and I felt a lot better.
It was a long way to Bracing Beach, so we had lunch in a motorway café on the way. There was so much food I didn’t know what to choose. I wondered about simply copying Tina, but she’s got the appetite of a mouse. She just wanted half a tuna wrap and an orange juice. I didn’t want the other half so her mum had it instead. Phil and Maddie had ham sandwiches and shared a packet of crisps. All this sharing was a bit unnerving!
‘Well, it’s the holidays, so I’m not sharing with anyone,’ said Tina’s dad. ‘I’m going to have a huge all-day breakfast – bacon and egg and sausage and tomato and baked beans and mushrooms – and a portion of chips, yum yum. Why don’t you be wicked too, Selma? What’s your favourite food?’
‘Chips,’ I said.
‘Then you have a great big plateful of chips, sweetheart. And what would you like to go with them?’
‘Could I have tomato sauce, please?’ I asked.
Phil and Maddie rolled their eyes. ‘Dad means, do you want chicken and chips, or sausage and chips, or fish and chips,’ said Phil.
‘Well, I don’t,’ I said, though I did actually like the sound of all those. ‘I’d just like tomato sauce.’
‘Your wish is my command, O Selma,’ said Tina’s dad, and he ordered a double portion of chips for me and took three sachets of tomato sauce from the stand.
I really, really love Tina’s dad.
Phil and Maddie and even Tina started it’s-not-fairing because they wanted a plate of chips too.
‘Don’t be silly, girls. You know you’re only allowed chips as a special treat,’ said their mum, glaring at their dad.
I was astonished. At home we had chips every single day. It’s a wonder my feet didn’t wear a groove down the stairs, past Blake block and Constable block to the chippie on the Parade.
I took a photo of my huge plate of chips with a big red circle of sauce, and then started shoving them into my mouth with my fingers. Tina’s mum raised her eyebrows, so I sighed and used my fork, though they didn’t taste quite so good that way. When she went to get two coffees, I quickly offered Tina a handful of chips. Phil and Maddie looked daggers. It was such fun winding them up.
Tina’s dad shook his head at me, but he didn’t get cross. Why, why, why couldn’t my mum have found herself a bloke like him? Why did she have to lumber herself with Jason? Miss Lovejoy says there are some things we won’t understand until we get older. I’m never going to understand what Mum sees in Jason even if I live to be a hundred.
The second part of the journey got a bit hot and boring. And I felt a bit queasy too, if I’m honest. I kept wondering if I should say anything or ask them to stop the van. I knew Tina’s mum would be FURIOUS if I threw up. So I leaned back and shut my eyes and tried very, very hard not to be sick.
‘Is she asleep?’ I heard Tina’s dad ask quietly.
‘Yes – nodded right off,’ said Tina’s mum. She was whispering, but I could still hear her. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure this is a good idea after all. This week’s going to seem like a lifetime!’
‘She’s a nice little kid really,’ said Tina’s dad.
Tina’s mum didn’t reply.
Perhaps I really did fall asleep, because the next thing I knew Tina was clutching my hand and gently shaking me.
‘We’re here, Selma! We’re here at Bracing Beach!’
It felt wonderful getting out of the hot, stuffy van and breathing in fresh sea air. We were up on the cliffs, parked beside the caravan site. We could see down to the cove and the sand and the sea. There didn’t seem to be much else here. No pier, no amusement arcades, just a beach shop with buckets and spades and footballs and lilos, a little food shop called Camper’s Cuisine, and an ice-cream van.
‘Isn’t it the loveliest place in the whole world?’ said Tina.
‘Yeah, it’s fantastic,’ I said uncertainly. It was so … empty.
Tina’s family all seemed to love it. As soon as they’d got the suitcases stowed in the caravan they all ran down the zigzag steps to the beach. Even Tina’s mum kicked off her espadrilles and went running towards the sea. Tina’s dad took off his trainers and had a very splashy paddle. Phil and Maddie held hands and played jumping over the tiny waves.
Tina held out her hand to me. ‘Come on, Selma!’ she said.
So I wriggled my toes out of my flip-flops and went paddling too. The water was absolutely freezing! And there was all this mucky brown slithery stuff floating in it.
‘Yuck! What’s that?’ I squealed.
‘It’s only seaweed, silly,’ said Phil.
‘It’s horrible,’ I said.
‘It can’t hurt you,’ Maddie laughed.
I wasn’t so sure. It looked like this huge writhing sea monster ready to get me. Then a great strand wound itself right round my ankles, and I shrieked and ran back onto the beach.
Tina held out her hand to me. She didn’t seem a bit scared of the seaweed herself. She was such a funny, wussy little thing, and yet she could be so brave at times. She’d cheerfully pick up the biggest wriggly worm without even shuddering. ‘You can splash past the seaweedy part ever so quickly. Come out here with me! The water’s all clear and lovely,’ she called.
‘No, I don’t fancy paddling – I might get my new shorts wet. I don’t want to spoil them,’ I said quickly.
Tina didn’t seem to care about getting her shorts wet. She jumped about an awful lot and got soaked all the way up to her neck, but she just laughed and laughed.
Her mum got a bit fussed when she saw the state of her, and insisted we all go back to the caravan and towel ourselves down and put on dry clothes. It all seemed a bit mad to me.
‘It’s what we did last year,’ said Tina. ‘It’s one of our special family things now.’
‘Our funny little rituals,’ said her dad. ‘You’re probably thinking we’re mad as a box of frogs, Selma.’
They were a bit mad. They all spent ages making a sandcastle on the beach. Even my little brother
Sam would have thought he was a bit old for messing about with buckets and spades. Still, this was an actual castle with turrets and scraped-out windows and elaborate shell decorations. We dug a moat all the way round, and then Phil and Maddie and Tina kept dashing into the sea with buckets so they could fill the moat up with water.
I joined in too, but it seemed a bit pointless as the water drained away as fast as they filled it up. And they’d built the sandcastle too near the sea anyway. It would all get washed away when the tide came in.
‘Isn’t it a waste of all that hard work?’ I asked. ‘At least when Tina and I made our butterfly garden at school, it stayed put.’
‘Good point,’ said Tina’s dad. ‘But somehow it makes it more special. And tell you what – you could take a picture of our castle, Selma, so we can all remember it.’
I took lots of photos of the sandcastle. Then they all lay on their backs in the sand and looked up at the clouds. Tina’s dad said he thought one of the clouds looked like a horse’s head, and Tina’s mum said another cloud looked like a lopsided little house, and Phil said a few little blobby clouds looked like ducklings, and Maddie said no, they looked more like mushrooms, and Tina said a cloud high up in the sky looked like a butterfly. Trust Tina – she’s still mad on butterflies. I didn’t think the clouds looked like horses’ heads or houses or ducklings or mushrooms or even butterflies. They just looked like clouds to me. But I took photos of them all the same. I made Tina sit up so I could take selfies of us with the clouds all round our heads.
‘See – doesn’t it look funny, as if we’ve both got bouncy white curls!’ I said.
‘Let’s see,’ said Phil.
‘Take one of us too,’ said Maddie.
‘No – I can’t keep on taking photos. I’ll use up all my memory,’ I said.
‘Let’s hope your memory gets used up soon,’ said Tina’s mum.
‘How about a game of French cricket now we’ve all had a little rest?’ suggested Tina’s dad.
Phil and Maddie and Tina all whooped. Tina saw that I looked uncertain. ‘French cricket’s ever such fun,’ she said. ‘You’ll love it, Selma.’
I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t like the sound of it. I didn’t know any French and I’d never played cricket, but I’d seen them playing it on one of the sports channels and it looked terribly complicated and dead boring. But it turned out that French cricket really was great fun, and easy-peasy to learn.
I was good at it. Really good. Much better than Maddie, and she’s meant to be the sporty one. I really whacked that ball and I didn’t drop a single catch. I was even better at bowling. I can throw ferociously. I bowled everyone out, even Tina’s dad.
‘You’re Man of the Match, Selma, without a doubt,’ he said, clapping me on the back.
Then we had a barbecue on the beach, and that was even better than French cricket. Tina’s dad cooked sausages and chicken drumsticks, and Tina’s mum passed round a big plastic bowl of salad stuff and chunks of thickly buttered bread. Some of the other families from the caravan site had picnics, but no one else had a proper barbecue. They all looked at us enviously.
Three boys came past, sniffing up the glorious sausage/chicken smell.
‘Give us a sausage, mate!’ they begged.
‘Sorry, lads. Off you go now,’ said Tina’s mum.
But Tina’s dad’s an old softie and gave each of them a sausage, even wrapping them in paper napkins so their hands wouldn’t get burned.
‘Honestly!’ said Tina’s mum.
‘Well, we’ve got heaps and heaps,’ he said sheepishly.
‘Yes, but now half the beach is going to come begging,’ she tutted.
Almost immediately two older girls wandered up to us, one fair and one dark. They wore bikini tops and little short shorts and they both had their belly buttons pierced.
‘Got any more sausages going begging?’ the fair one asked, giving Tina’s dad a flirty smile.
‘What did I say?’ said Tina’s mum, bristling.
‘Sorry, girls,’ he said.
‘You gave those boys over there a sausage!’ said the dark girl.
‘Yes, well, I haven’t got any more going spare,’ said Tina’s dad, trying to stand firm.
‘Meanie! Look, you’ve got heaps sizzling on that barbecue!’ the fair one said.
‘For my family,’ said Tina’s dad. That gave me a little thrill. I liked him counting me as part of the family.
‘You’ve got seven there!’ said the fair girl. ‘You could spare one for us. We don’t mind sharing.’
‘Yes, but two are for me,’ he told her.
‘Then you’re a right old greedy-guts,’ said the dark girl.
‘Yeah, look at his big fat stomach,’ said her friend.
‘You shut up!’ I said indignantly, furious that she dared criticize such a lovely man.
‘That’s enough of your lip. Push off now,’ he said.
‘Yes, go away at once. What a cheek!’ Tina’s mum was outraged.
They sauntered off very slowly, peering back over their shoulders, pulling faces at us. I pulled a hideous face back. So did Phil and Maddie and Tina.
‘Now then, there’s no need to copy them. They’re silly, rude girls. Just ignore them,’ said Tina’s mum.
‘They’re not ignoring us,’ I said.
The fair one bent down and picked something up. A pebble.
‘Watch out!’ I said.
She chucked it at us, but she was a lousy shot. It fell short.
‘Stop that!’ said Tina’s dad.
The dark girl tried too. She had a better aim. Her pebble glanced off the sole of my trainer. It was only a little pebble and it didn’t hurt, but I wasn’t going to let her get away with that. I picked up my own pebble and threw it. Bull’s-eye! It hit her right on her bottom! She squealed and sprinted away, her friend running after her.
‘Wow!’ said Phil and Maddie and Tina.
But Tina’s mum took hold of me, looking furious. ‘Selma, you must never, ever throw stones! That’s so dangerous. If you’d hit her on the head, you could have hurt her really seriously,’ she said.
‘But I didn’t aim at her head, I got her on the bum!’ I said. ‘And they both threw stones first. Didn’t they?’ I said, appealing to Tina’s dad.
‘Yes, they did, and you were trying to protect us, and that’s very sweet of you, but even so, you must never, ever throw stones.’
‘Well, what was I supposed to do, then?’ I asked.
‘Just ignore them. Tina’s daddy would have dealt with those silly girls,’ said Tina’s mum.
‘Never! He’s too soft,’ I said. I didn’t mean to be rude. I liked him being soft. I just meant that he was too kind and cheery and gentle to frighten them off. But he looked so hurt, and it made me feel terrible. I didn’t really care that Tina’s mum didn’t like me, but I hated Tina’s dad not liking me now.
He didn’t tell me off. Even Tina’s mum stopped nagging. But they were kind of cool with me after that and I knew I was in disgrace. We stayed on the beach until it got dark, and then Tina’s mum took us back to the caravan while Tina’s dad cleared up all the barbecue things.
We still had to unpack everything, though my things only took a minute or two. Tina and Phil and Maddie had heaps of stuff to sort out, and Tina’s mum had two big suitcases full of clothes to try to squash into one small wardrobe. Then there was a great palaver about washing. Tina and Phil and Maddie all got into their funny babyish pyjamas and washed their hands and faces and cleaned their teeth. It took ages and seemed a total waste of time to me. I just jumped up onto one of the top bunks in my pants.
‘Hey, that’s my bunk,’ said Phil, her mouth still frothing with toothpaste.
‘Well, I bagged it first,’ I said.
‘No, it’s truly mine. I had that exact same bunk last year,’ said Phil.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. ‘All right, diddums. Don’t get upset.’ I jumped down without bothering with the ladder and clamber
ed up onto the opposite bunk.
‘No, that’s my bunk,’ said Maddie. ‘And we’re not allowed to jump down like that. You could really hurt yourself. Mum said.’
‘What rubbish,’ I said, though actually the soles of my feet were burning and I’d jarred my spine. ‘So which is your bunk, Tina?’
‘This one,’ said Tina, pointing to a bottom bunk. ‘But you can have it if you like, Selma. I can sleep on the spare one.’
‘Why don’t you ever get a turn at a top bunk?’ I asked. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘Tina can’t go in a top bunk because she’s too little – if she fell out she’d really, really hurt herself because of her poorly heart,’ said Phil. ‘Mum said.’
‘I’m a bit sick of your mum and all the stuff she says,’ I told her. Perhaps I said it a bit too loudly, because Tina’s mum came bustling in, pink in the face.
‘Come on, girls – into bed. Selma, you’ll be sleeping in that bottom bunk opposite Tina. Now settle down sensibly. You can read and chat for a few minutes, but then I want you to turn off the light and go to sleep. Night-night now.’
Phil said night-night and got a kiss, though her mum had to stand on tiptoe to reach her. Maddie said night-night and got a kiss, though her mum had to stand on tiptoe to reach her too. Tina said night-night and got a kiss, though this time her mum had to bend down carefully so she didn’t bump her head.
I didn’t say night-night. I didn’t get a kiss. I didn’t care one bit.
Then Tina’s dad came in, and he did the whole night-night, kiss-kiss routine too.
I kept quiet. Afterwards I thought he’d leave, but he knelt down beside my bunk.
‘Night-night, Selma,’ he said, and he gave me a quick kiss on my cheek.
‘Night,’ I said in a tiny voice. I was a bit choked up – I don’t know why.
‘Sorry we were a bit shirty with you earlier, pet. It’s just that it’s very dangerous to throw stones,’ he whispered. ‘Promise you’ll never, ever throw stones again, Selma?’
Butterfly Beach Page 2
