Cookie

by Jacqueline Wilson

‘What did you just say, Skye?’ said Mum, pushing forward to stand beside us. Her voice was steely.

  ‘Nothing,’ Skye mumbled.

  ‘You just mind that mouth of yours,’ said Mum, and walked on.

  Skye flushed scarlet.

  ‘What a cheek!’ Emily hissed. ‘You’re not allowed to tell someone else’s child off!’

  ‘Especially a s-l-a-g like her,’ said Skye.

  I stood still. I clenched my fists. ‘You say another word about my mum and I’ll drag you by your hair over to that table and shove you head first into that profiterole tower and I’ll stuff profiteroles up your snobby nose and down your foul mouth until you’re sick,’ I said.

  Skye stared at me, shocked. She took a step backward, then another. Then she recovered a little and shook her head at Emily and Arabella, rotating her finger into the side of her head.

  ‘Watch out, she’s got a screw loose,’ she said shakily.

  ‘I think I’m going to phone my mum,’ said Arabella.

  ‘Maybe I’ll phone mine,’ said Emily. ‘Where’s Rhona, Skye? Isn’t she coming?’

  ‘She said she was,’ said Skye. ‘But she’s obviously thought better of it. Clever her. I knew she didn’t really like Ugly.’

  My heart started thumping. I thought she was simply trying to wind me up – but where was Rhona? She was half an hour late. Everyone had eaten the vol au vents and sausages and all the other buffet bits.

  ‘Time to cut your birthday cake, Beauty,’ said Dad.

  ‘But Rhona isn’t here yet,’ I said.

  ‘Which one’s Rhona? I don’t think she’ll be coming now,’ said Dad.

  ‘Yes she will. Rhona’s my friend,’ I said desperately.

  ‘Did you hear that!’ said Skye. ‘As if!’

  ‘Everyone knows Rhona’s your friend, Skye.’

  ‘You and Rhona have been best friends for ever,’ said Arabella.

  ‘Rhona’s still my friend too – and she said she was coming,’ I said.

  Mum put her arm round me. ‘Maybe she’s not very well,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t worry, Beauty. We’ll save her some of the profiterole tower, and you can give her a bag of cookies at school on Monday.’

  ‘I wish she’d come now,’ I said.

  There was a ring at the door.

  ‘Rhona!’ I said, and went flying.

  It was Rhona, standing on the doorstep clutching a large box, her cheeks bright pink with excitement. Mr Marshall stood beside her, hauling what looked like a wooden crate.

  ‘Happy birthday, Beauty! Hey, what a lovely dress! And wonderful boots!’ said Rhona. ‘I’m so sorry we’re so late. We were all set to leave an hour ago but then your birthday present escaped!’

  ‘It . . . escaped?’ I said.

  ‘It took ages and ages to catch him. Be very careful when you take the lid off! We don’t want him to get away again.’

  She set the box on the front doorstep. I knelt down and cautiously lifted the box lid a few inches. I peered into the darkness inside. There was a lot of soft straw. Huddled right in the middle, ears twitching anxiously, was a little grey rabbit.

  Twelve

  ‘A rabbit!’ I whispered.

  ‘It’s your birthday bunny,’ said Rhona. ‘Dad’s scrubbed out my rabbit’s hutch for you, and we’ve got bedding and rabbit food. Mum’s parcelled up some lettuce and dandelion leaves too.’

  ‘Oh, Rhona!’ I said. I shut my eyes tight but I couldn’t stop two tears spilling down my cheeks.

  ‘What’s the matter, Beauty? You did want a rabbit, didn’t you?’ said Rhona.

  ‘Yes, I wanted a rabbit more than anything else in the world,’ I said.

  ‘So there you are then!’ said Rhona. ‘I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to call him.’

  ‘Call who?’ said Dad, coming up the hall behind me. ‘Can you just lift that wooden thing off of the parquet flooring?’

  ‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Mr Marshall. ‘Shall I shove the hutch round the back?’

  ‘The . . . hutch?’ said Dad.

  I swallowed so hard my head started spinning. I had one hand inside the box. I stroked the soft soft fur.

  ‘Rhona’s bought me a little r-r-rabbit for my birthday,’ I said.

  I waited. I didn’t dare look round at Dad. I heard his sharp intake of breath.

  ‘I think our Beauty’s been a bit of a naughty girl asking you to give her a rabbit,’ said Dad. ‘She knows she’s not allowed to have pets.’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t ask, Mr Cookson,’ said Rhona, totally unfazed. ‘But I knew just how much she’d love a rabbit. It’s just a little weeny baby rabbit. He won’t make any mess at all, he’ll just stay neat and cosy in his hutch. You’ll let Beauty keep him, won’t you?’

  ‘I certainly hope you will, pal, because I don’t want to lumber this damn hutch all the way home!’ said Mr Marshall.

  I waited, holding my breath. We all waited, Rhona and Mr Marshall, Mum, Skye, Emily, Arabella and every other girl at my party.

  ‘Well, in that case of course Beauty can have her little bunny,’ said Dad.

  ‘Hurray!’ said Rhona.

  ‘Cheers!’ said Mr Marshall.

  There was an excited babble as everyone crowded round, wanting to see my rabbit.

  ‘No, no, careful, we mustn’t frighten him,’ I said firmly, feeling the poor little thing quivering.

  I looked up at Dad. He was smiling at me. He even said ‘Aaah!’ as I lifted the little rabbit out of his box and cradled him in my arms. But I saw his narrowed eyes, his clenched jaw, the pulse beating in his forehead.

  Mr Marshall carried the hutch through the house and out of the French windows into the back garden. Rhona carried the bunny box and I carried the rabbit. Everyone else crowded round, wanting to see him and stroke him.

  ‘Get back a bit! He’s getting so frightened. He’s little, he’s worried you might hurt him,’ I said, fiercely protective.

  They all moved back, even Skye. It was tricky transferring my rabbit into his hutch. He wriggled frantically and I had to hang onto him really tightly though I was terrified of hurting him. I knew how clumsy I could be – and yet somehow my hands knew how to cup and hold and soothe him.

  ‘Let’s tuck him up in bed,’ said Rhona, pulling his straw out of the box.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing, dear, that stuff ‘s going all over the patio,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, girls, we’ve still got to eat the profiterole tower, and the super-stretch limo will be here soon.’

  ‘Hang on, Mr Cookson. We’ve got to feed the rabbit first!’ said Rhona. ‘I didn’t give him any breakfast so he wouldn’t do too many poos in his birthday box.’

  All the girls giggled and started chatting about what rabbits liked to eat. Dad’s smile was so strained his lips disappeared.

  ‘Buck up, then, dears,’ he said.

  Skye had hold of the lettuce-and-dandelion parcel.

  ‘Here you are, Bunny, here’s your yummy greens,’ she said.

  ‘No, Skye, it’s not your rabbit. Beauty must feed him,’ said Rhona.

  So I fed my rabbit. My hand was shaking and my tummy in knots because of Dad, but it was still the most fantastic feeling offering the leaves and seeing my rabbit’s nose twitch, his soft mouth open, his little teeth starting to chomp chomp chomp.

  I’d loved Nicholas Navybear but that was nothing like having a real soft breathing little creature nuzzling my fingers.

  ‘He’s the loveliest rabbit ever, Rhona’, I whispered.

  ‘So what’s his name, your little birthday bunny?’ she said.

  ‘We’ll call him Birthday,’ I said. ‘Because he’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Apart from the gorgeous giant toy rabbit I gave you, Beauty,’ said Dad. ‘Come on now, they’re about to cut the cake. Back in the house everyone.’

  Mum made me wash my hands though I wanted to keep the feel of Birthday’s soft fur and warm tongue on my fingers. I didn’t get to cut the profi
terole tower myself as it was such a complicated job but I handed out the plates to everyone. Mr Marshall stayed to have a piece too.

  ‘Yum yum, I’ve got lucky,’ he said. ‘Happy birthday, Beauty. You look an absolute picture in that lovely dress.’

  I looked at him. He didn’t seem to be making a joke. He was smiling as if he really meant it.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, smiling back at him. ‘It’s my birthday present from Mum.’

  ‘Oh well, your mum’s got the knack of looking lovely herself,’ said Mr Marshall, nudging up to Mum and giving her a little pat. He was just being silly, wiggling his eyebrows and playing about – but Dad glared at him.

  ‘Right, we’d better start rounding up the kids, the super-stretch will be here any minute,’ he said, peering at his Rolex. ‘I don’t want to chase you out, chum, but we need to get cracking.’

  Mr Marshall took this heavy hint and said goodbye. I wished he was coming with us. He was so kind and funny. I felt nothing really bad could happen when he was around.

  ‘Now, girls, you’d better all make a quick trip to the little girls’ room. We don’t want any of you taken short in the super-stretch,’ said Dad.

  I blushed scarlet. Some of the girls tittered, some rolled their eyes.

  ‘Beauty, show everyone the bathroom. Don’t worry, at the last count we had four loos in our Happy Home, so you shouldn’t have to stand around with your legs crossed too long.’

  ‘Honestly!’ Emily muttered. ‘He’s so crude.’

  ‘Vulgar,’ Arabella agreed.

  ‘Why go on about all his loos anyway? Does he think we don’t have any at home?’ said Skye.

  ‘Oh stop it, he’s just being funny,’ said Rhona – but I knew she was just saying it to comfort me.

  She came up to my bedroom with me. She squealed when she saw the monster pink rabbit lurking in the corner.

  ‘Oh my goodness! It’s the biggest rabbit I’ve ever seen!’

  ‘It’s horrible,’ I said.

  ‘What’s it called?’

  ‘Just Pinky. If I give it a proper name it’ll start to get real.’ I suddenly gave Rhona a big hug. ‘Thank you so much for Birthday, Rhona. I really meant it, he’s the best birthday present in the whole world.’

  ‘He’s only a little bunny from the pet shop. Your dad isn’t really cross about it, is he?’

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘No, he’s fine.’ I sighed. ‘I do like your dad, Rhona.’

  ‘Oh, my dad’s a silly old sausage,’ said Rhona fondly. ‘That’s what I call him sometimes – and he calls me his little chipolata.’

  Rhona danced round my bedroom, gently touching all my Victorian doll collection and my little china animals and my musical box and all my glass snowstorms.

  ‘You’ve got such a lovely bedroom, Beauty. And fancy having your very own bathroom! Even Skye hasn’t got her own en suite bathroom and her family have got pots of money. It must be such fun to be as rich as you!’

  Lulu and Poo-poo were clamouring to use my bathroom too so we let them in and then went downstairs. I heard a sudden squeaking.

  ‘It’s here! Look out the window! Oh goodness, it’s enormous! Our own super-stretch limo!’

  All the girls were dancing up and down, so excited. I had a peep too and my heart started thumping at the thought that it was my birthday super-stretch limo.

  The caterers were starting to clear my birthday buffet already. There was no sign of Mum and Dad. I went looking for them to tell them the car was here. I opened the door of the kitchen. Dad had hold of Mum, his face contorted. I ran forward, terrified he was going to hit her again.

  ‘Dad, Dad, the super-stretch limo is here! Come and look, it’s so grand, I’m so lucky!’ I blurted.

  Dad didn’t even seem to hear me.

  ‘Never never let me see you flirting with that creep Marshall again,’ he said, giving Mum a shake.

  ‘She wasn’t flirting, Dad!’ I said.

  ‘I’ll thank you to mind your own business, Beauty,’ Dad said. ‘Did you say the car was here? Right, let’s be off then.’

  Mum rubbed her wrist, blinking hard. She looked at Dad as if she wanted to say something – but then looked at me instead. She tried to smile.

  ‘Come on then, birthday girl,’ she said, picking up a large carrier bag on the kitchen floor.

  ‘What’s that you’ve got, Dilly?’ Dad asked.

  ‘It’s little going-home presents,’ said Mum. ‘Beauty can give one to each girl as we drop them off.’

  Dad breathed a little easier. ‘Nice touch,’ he said grudgingly. ‘So what are we giving them all? Bracelets, smelly bath stuff, cuddly toys?’

  ‘Oh, it’s just a little token,’ said Mum, walking to the door. ‘Come on, Beauty. A super-stretch limo, imagine! How exciting!’

  But Dad grabbed at the carrier bag before she could get any further. ‘Let me see!’ he demanded.

  He delved in and brought out a handful of the beautifully beribboned cookie bags.

  ‘Are you still trying to palm them off with this muck?’ he said.

  ‘They’re just little cookies, Gerry, so the children will start calling Beauty their little Cookie,’ said Mum.

  ‘Don’t talk such nonsense. You’re not shaming us by doling out these. We’ll be a laughing stock – and we’ll probably give them food poisoning to boot,’ said Dad.

  He picked up the carrier bag and bashed it to the floor. Then he stamped up and down on it dementedly, smashing all the cookies into crumbs.

  We watched him silently, wincing as if he was stamping all over us. Dad slowed down a little, out of breath, half glancing towards the door, obviously wondering if anyone could hear.

  Mum gave him one long look and then she took hold of my hand.

  ‘Come on, Beauty, let’s look after our guests,’ she said.

  They were huddled in the hall, nudging each other, looking anxious. Rhona came and slipped her arm round me.

  ‘Come on, girls, let’s get in the limo,’ said Mum. She acted like nothing had happened, though her cheeks were burning and even her chest was flushed pink.

  She opened the front door and the girls ran out eagerly, jostling over who was going to sit where.

  ‘I’m sitting next to Beauty,’ said Rhona.

  ‘No, you’re sitting next to me,’ Skye insisted.

  ‘I’ve got two sides, haven’t I, silly?’ said Rhona. ‘I’ll be sitting next to both of you.’

  I looked at Mum. ‘Is Dad still coming?’ I whispered.

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Mum whispered back.

  Dad did come, rubbing his hands and humming Happy Birthday to you as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Hands up who’s ever been in a super-stretch limo before!’ he said.

  No one put their hand up. Dad nodded triumphantly. I saw Skye and Emily and Arabella roll their eyes at each other.

  ‘He’ll be telling us how much it cost to hire it next,’ Arabella whispered.

  ‘He is so awful,’ said Emily.

  ‘He’s just plain nuts,’ said Skye.

  Rhona shifted closer to me and started talking about Birthday.

  ‘They had six rabbits in the pet shop. They did have a white one like Lily but it didn’t have floppy ears and it wasn’t anywhere near as little and cute as Birthday.’

  ‘He’s the best rabbit ever. And you’re the best friend ever,’ I said.

  ‘Hello?’ said Skye. ‘Rhona just happens to be my best friend.’

  ‘I’m best friends with both of you,’ said Rhona. ‘Now shut up, Skye. It’s Beauty’s birthday.’

  It was my birthday, and here I was with Rhona being lovely to me, on a fantastic birthday trip, and back home I had the present I’d been longing for. I should feel the happiest girl in the whole world – and yet every time I looked at Mum I wanted to burst into tears. She was terribly squashed up beside Louise and Poppy, trying hard to chat to them, giving barley sugar to someone who felt sick, pointing out places we were
passing, being so brave. She smiled at me from time to time but she didn’t so much as glance in Dad’s direction.

  He’d stopped going on and on about the super-stretch limo and had dozed off. I prayed he wouldn’t start snoring.

  He didn’t wake up until we drew up outside the theatre. Then he sprang into action, assembling us all on the pavement, jumping around and joking. He made a great show of counting everyone, tapping each girl on her nose. He tried to tap Mum too but she ducked out of his way.

  Birthday Bonanza started off wonderfully. There was a huge birthday party on stage with lots of singing and dancing. I liked McTavish, I liked Will Forman, I liked the actress playing theBirthday Girl, a beautiful slender girl with long red hair past her waist. But then she came to the front of the stage and asked if there were any other birthday girls or boys in the auditorium.

  I turned round and saw lots and lots of hands waving.

  ‘You wave too, Beauty,’ said Rhona.

  So I stuck my hand up and waved feebly, thinking they were just going to sing Happy Birthday.

  ‘Hey, there! You’d better come up on stage and share our birthday party,’ said the red-haired girl, beckoning.

  Oh no! I saw ten or twelve kids rushing forward to get on stage. The girls were all pretty skinny Skye-type girls in short skirts or tight jeans. I imagined myself standing amongst them in my prim pearl-grey dress and nearly died.

  ‘Go on, Beauty,’ said Rhona.

  ‘No fear!’ I said.

  ‘Anyone else?’ said the red-haired girl, peering in our direction.

  ‘Beauty!’ Dad hissed along the row. ‘Get yourself up there!’

  ‘I can’t!’ I said, shrinking down in my seat. ‘I won’t!’

  ‘Well, if she’s not going to, I am,’ said Skye, jumping up.

  ‘But it’s not your birthday, Skye!’ said Rhona.

  ‘They’re not going to ask for my birth certificate, are they?’ said Skye, shoving her way along the row.

  I heard Dad hollering at me but I shook my head determinedly, knowing he couldn’t push his way right along past eighteen girls to physically shove me on stage.

  Skye was up there like a shot, tossing her blonde hair and standing with one hand on her hip, totally at ease. They all had to join in a birthday song and then play a crazy game of musical chairs. Then disco lights started flashing and they all had to dance. I was so so so relieved I hadn’t gone up on stage myself, even though Dad was madder than ever at me. He glared down the row at me when he looked back at the stage he couldn’t help smiling as Skye pranced and strutted up and down, arms up, hips shaking, toes tapping. It was obvious he’d give anything to have a daughter like her. Rhona’s hand found mine and she gave it a comforting squeeze.