‘Look at it again, Jemima,’ my little brother insists.
Jakeypants is talking about his new magic trick. He made it himself. It looks as if he has a matchbox with someone’s cut-off finger in it, but really it’s just his own finger, covered in ketchup and poking up through a hole he made in the box! He has been grossing everyone out for a week.
‘No, thank you.’ I shake my head. Jakey and I are huddled on the front steps at home, waiting for our babysitter to arrive and I feel like the cold has crept inside my sweater.
We are going back to school next Monday and I overheard Mummy (who has caught a cold) telling Daddy that she doesn’t feel up to taking us for haircuts and new school shoes. I’m not surprised. On our last trip to the shopping centre, a horrible hairdresser cut my fringe like a Lego person’s, and Jakey kept running away from Mummy and Daddy at the shoe shop shouting, ‘I AM AN AEROPLANE!’
No wonder Mummy doesn’t feel well enough to take us.
But I really need a new pair of shoes for my first day back. And Jakey’s hair is so long that all we’ve seen of him for the past few weeks is a mop of shiny locks and a mouth!
Luckily for us, this means our babysitter is coming. Marge is a tiny duchess, and the most interesting things seem to happen whenever she is around. She once taught a herd of Asian elephants to paint self-portraits – so if anyone can handle our shopping trip, it is Marge.
I am a bit nervous about getting my hair cut though. I love to play with Lego people but I don’t want to look like one.
My little brother Jakeypants has two rules:
1. He will not go shopping. He says that there are too many people, and putting clothes over his head makes his hair static-y.
2. He won’t sleep without Pete, his soft-toy dinosaur.
BEEP BEEP honks a car horn.
It’s Marge!
I can see our babysitter now. She’s dressed like a royal chauffeur in a blue satin cap and jacket. She waves at us from the front seat, and Jakey and I scamper over and climb into her nice, warm car.
‘Look at this!’ Jakey holds out the matchbox. Marge slides the top off and gasps in horror as she sees his finger covered in ketchup blood.
‘Was it bitten off by a hungry squirrel?’ she enquires, as Jakey tries not to giggle. ‘Or shot off by one of the Queen’s guardsmen?’
We snort with laughter.
Marge takes a closer look at the box and then Jakey wiggles his finger, which makes our babysitter jump back in fright.
‘It’s possessed! A zombie finger!’ Marge shrieks, just as Daddy arrives and leans into the car.
‘Sorry I can’t come with you today. I have a business call,’ he says, buckling us in.
‘Mummy says that we both need new school shoes,’ I tell Marge shyly.
‘These are my lucky racing shoes,’ Jakey says, showing Marge his raggedy green trainers. ‘I don’t need new ones,’ he protests. ‘They will just slow me down!’
‘Good luck,’ Daddy calls. ‘Remember, Marge is in charge!’
As we reverse out of the driveway, I spy Mummy blowing a kiss to us from her bedroom window. I really hope she feels better soon.
Did I tell you that Marge has to sit on a booster seat to drive? Otherwise she can’t see over the steering wheel!
As we cruise along she serenades us in her warbling voice.
‘What are the “flues”?’ Jakey asks.
‘The flues are when you have more than one flu at a time,’ Marge says. ‘Though that’s still better than catching the “moos”, which is when your cough sounds like a cow!’
Everything goes smoothly at first. We even find a parking space close to the ticket machine. As we walk inside the shopping centre, Marge reads Mummy’s list aloud:
1. Please make sure Jemima and Jakey get their hair cut.
2. Pick up some cold medicine for me.
3. Sensible school shoes for both kids, please – have their feet measured first.
… And suddenly things are not going so smoothly any more.
‘I’m not going to the shops! They’re boring and stupid and it takes AGES!’ Jakey shouts. I turn to see that my little brother is now lying flat on the ground.
‘Excuse me,’ a man with a moustache says, stepping around Jakey like he’s lost luggage at the airport.
‘Watch out!’
This is so embarrassing. People are hopping over and around Jake and shaking their heads crossly at us. Even though he is almost five years old, my little brother sometimes acts like such a baby.
Then Marge lies down next to him!
She grins. ‘This is relaxing!’
Has our babysitter lost her mind?
The two of them are now giggling and pretending to make snow angels on the floor, while a traffic jam of strangers forms behind them. I wish I could be invisible right now.
‘Let’s have a race to the shoe shop?’ I offer Jakey, desperately. He makes a face at me, but thankfully, after a minute, he jumps up and zooms along, zigzagging through the crowds of shoppers until he gets there!
When Marge and I finally catch up with him, he looks triumphant.
‘See how fast my trainers go? That’s why I am NOT getting a new pair.’
He folds his arms across his chest.
As Marge starts inspecting a shoe rack, I manage to catch the eye of a strict-looking man who is tidying boxes.
When he comes over, Marge asks him to measure my feet, Jakey’s feet and her own feet too. I didn’t know Marge was getting new shoes as well!
‘One can never have too many shoes, Jemima,’ Marge tells me. ‘Kitten heels for dancing, court shoes for dining, high heels for royal visits … and wellington boots in every colour of course.’
I am trying to behave myself, but it’s so cold standing on the metal foot-measuring-thingy!
Jakey refuses. He is busy running races. He’s made a track around the mirror and keeps galloping from one sofa to the next, so we can’t even get near his feet.
After Marge and I have been measured, she says we can try on everything in the store, even a pair of baby booties.
‘The customer is always right!’ she tells the salesman.
First we try on some mountain boots and mountaineer up a window display – but Jakey won’t join in. Next Marge and I tap-dance in sparkly purple winkle-pickers – but my little brother still refuses to take off his lucky racing trainers.
It’s only when Marge cuddles up on a sofa in some big furry slippers and offers to tell Jakey the story of Kurt the racing camel that he even lets us get near him.
We all scrunch up together so that we can hear Marge better. Kurt was the fastest camel in the world. But it turns out he bought the wrong size shoes for his hooves. They were far too small and he came last in the Great Gobi Desert Camel Race.
‘He never raced again,’ Marge tells us, wiping a tear from her eye. Jakey looks very serious and agrees to have his feet measured. He says he will even try on some shoes – but only ONE pair!
I pick out loads of colourful trainers with pictures on and show them all to Marge, but she rejects every design. At last she chooses a pair of plain black ones for Jakey to try. They look like something Grandpa Pat would wear!
I am so worried. Marge has picked the most boring shoes on the planet. Jakey will never agree to wear these to school or anywhere else, and besides, they have laces.
All this trying and choosing has taken so long that the shop is empty apart from us, and it’s getting late outside. Even the shoe salesman looks exhausted.
Jakey sighs as he puts on the black trainers. Marge ties the laces and he stomps off. This is not looking good.
‘Wait,’ says Marge. ‘You have to click your heels together first.’
So Jakey does, and suddenly he isn’t walking – he’s kind of skidding and wobbling … Now he’s steady and he’s sliding, rolling and gliding.
Whoa! Jake’s shoes have WHEELS on them?!
‘I have magic shoooooes!’ Jakey ho
llers, half running and half skating past us with a laugh. ‘I can go way faster than the fastest cheetah!’
I sigh with relief. Jake has new shoes that actually fit, look smart and don’t have a hole in them! Mummy will be over the moon.
I settle on a pair of red patent leather shoes. They are so bouncy and springy! Marge buys herself some clogs, which make a funny clacking sound as we finally make our way to Hair City.
There’s no queue at all, as it’s so late. But the lady who usually cuts our hair is nowhere to be seen. (I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hiding. Jakey once wrestled her to the floor after she tried to comb a particularly large knot out of his hair.) Instead, there is a lady with spiky, short hair wearing a name tag that says Lilly.
‘Sit in the chair, please,’ Lilly asks Jakey.
‘You look like a hedgehog!’ Jakey marvels.
Marge manages to convince my brother that getting his hair chopped will make him more ‘aerodynamic’ and a faster runner.
He darts into Lilly’s chair and even stops wriggling for a minute so she can make two neat snips. Suddenly my little brother has a nose, eyes and eyebrows again!
Jakey cries joyfully, ‘I can see!’
It’s my turn now and my tummy feels weird. I wish I didn’t need a haircut.
‘How much would you like off?’ Lilly asks, brandishing her scissors at me.
I don’t want short, spiky hair like hers. My bottom lip starts to wobble.
‘Shall I go next?’ Marge offers, seeing my face.
She whips off her hat and out cascades her incredible red, green, yellow, orange and blue hair, falling halfway down her back.
‘Rainbow Rapunzel!’ Lilly says, open-mouthed.
I often wonder whether Mummy and Daddy would let our babysitter look after us if they saw her crazy hair or knew that she knitted knee-high socks for her pet giraffe, Stanley.
‘Can I have the top part of my hair in a beehive?’ Marge asks. ‘And the middle part in a bouffant, with a sideways chignon underneath?’
It takes Lilly a long time to do Marge’s hair. She squirts some yellow cream into the ends and then massages white goop into her scalp. While we wait, Jakey and I pretend that our gowns are capes, and we have a superhero spinning competition on the chairs, until finally …
WOW!
Marge’s hair looks incredible. It’s all knotted, twisted and teased on top of her head. If we added a few decorations, she would look just like a birthday cake!
Now it’s my turn. My fear gives way to excitement as I scooch back into the chair and face the mirror.
SNIP! FLICK! SWISH!
Lilly trims my hair and then does two pretty plaits on either side of my face. I look at my reflection shyly. I feel like a new person.
Mummy will be so impressed with us!
We are the last customers in Hair City, and as Marge pays for our haircuts I notice that it’s completely dark outside the shop window.
Jakey needs to make a quick stop in the bathrooms before the drive home, and when we come back out all the lights in the shopping centre have been turned off!
What is going on?
‘Helloooo …? Anyone there?’ Marge calls into the darkness.
But no one answers. All the other shoppers must have gone home. When we try the nearest door, we realise that we are locked in!
‘Don’t worry, my little charges,’ Marge assures us. ‘There must be someone still here to let us out.’
I grab our babysitter’s hand as we walk down the frozen escalators. All I can hear is the clonking of Marge’s new clogs echoing around us. Most of the shops in the shopping centre now have big metal shutters pulled down over their windows, and the only light comes from signs pointing to the exits.
I am beginning to feel very scared, and I can tell Jakey is too.
‘There’s no one here,’ my brother tells Marge, his eyes looking teary.
‘Exactly!’ says Marge, and then she takes off, running towards some shopping trolleys just inside the entrance to the empty supermarket. ‘Which means there’s no one to stop us from having a quick trolley race!’
I’m not sure about this, but Jakey jumps into one trolley and Marge takes the handle and grins at me.
So I grab my own trolley – I have to be honest, I have always dreamed of doing this!
‘Ready, steady … GO!’ Jakey shouts.
We tear around the shiny, empty floor, hurtling past the huge fridge-freezers and shrieking as we dart down the dark bakery aisle.
WHIZZ!!
The trolley wheels are squeaking and screeching. My legs are aching and I am getting out of breath – but I can’t seem to catch up with Marge and Jakey.
I spot a shortcut between two pyramids of kitchen roll, and soar through it. My trolley is edging into the lead.
I cross the finish line in the fruit section … I am the winner! I think that my haircut must have made me more aerodynamic too. But I am really tired as I reach the big glass doors and I am beginning to worry that if we can’t find someone to let us out, we will have to spend all night in the shopping centre!
We leave our trolleys in the supermarket and continue towards the main exit. Luckily Marge has a small torch in her handbag and she shines the way.
‘Look, Camping World.’ Marge points out an outdoors shop where there are several tents on display. ‘If no one rescues us, we can borrow a tent and some sleeping bags from there and have a camp-out.’
I look at the rows of empty tents. It would be a good story to share on my first day back at school, but what I really want is my own bedroom with my parents next door. And Jakey can’t sleep without Pete the dinosaur. Hopefully it won’t come to that.
‘The worst part,’ I say, ‘is that we didn’t do everything on Mummy’s list. What about the medicine to make her feel better?’
‘I miss Mummy,’ Jakey sniffs as he takes my hand.
But then way off, in the distance, we spot a security guard. He has just closed up the swimwear shop and is nearly at the main exit. We wave and shout but he doesn’t hear us. He’s so far away that even if we ran, we couldn’t catch him in time.
What are we going to do?
‘SECURITY!’ my little brother hollers, skidding off in his new wheelie shoes. His legs pump back and forth as he gains speed.
The guard gets a fright as Jake bumps into the glass door just as he is setting the alarm.
‘Let us out!’ Jakey huffs, as we catch up with them both.
The guard shakes his head and doesn’t move. ‘You shouldn’t be in here this late.’
‘We had a very important “to do” list today,’ Marge explains.
‘And some very important trolleys to race,’ my brother adds.
‘I am so sorry,’ I tell him politely.
We all stare at the guard hopefully, but his face is red and I am worried he is going to tell us off or call Mummy. She would be so cross if we were banned from the shopping centre.
‘In the castle,’ Marge explains, ‘I had a royal timekeeper who used to follow me around, reminding me when I had to do things. It’s a shame you don’t have one of those here for every shopper.’
‘Look!’ Jakey says, bringing out his matchbox trick. He shows the ketchup-y finger to the guard.
‘ARGH!’ the guard screams, jumping backwards. ‘I faint at the sight of blood.’
He hurriedly unlocks the door and ushers us out.
‘Perfect,’ says Marge. ‘And look – there’s a late-night chemist just across the road.’
Hooray, we can get Mummy her medicine and tick everything off her list! Thank goodness for Jakey’s silly trick.
The streetlights are on and it’s starting to rain when we pull into our driveway.
‘Adieu, shoppers. I can’t come in, I’m afraid,’ Marge says, as she taps her new clogs together. ‘I am hosting a clog-dancing bonanza in my barn this evening. I’ll be competing against Lancelot the Clydesdale horse. He has an unfair advantage, as he was born wea
ring clogs! Wish me luck!’
‘Bye, Marge,’ we say, giving her a big hug.
As she honks the horn goodbye, Daddy comes out with an umbrella to get us.
With our new shoes on, we race up the stairs to Mummy’s bedroom. I have never seen Jakey as proud of himself (except when he made his sock puppet) as when he tells Mummy how he saved the day.
‘And guess what?’ He grins. ‘I actually LIKE going shopping!’
My little brother adores his new school shoes, and I love my new hairstyle. I feel much more ready to go back to school than I did this morning.
‘Are you feeling a bit better?’ I ask Mummy. ‘Daddy says your face looked pale.’
‘I feel more colourful now you two are home,’ she tells me, smiling.
We play doctors and nurses, making sure she takes the proper dose of her medicine. Then Jakey tells Mummy that she can keep his old raggedy shoes if she wants, so she can run faster.
After that, Daddy says that Mummy needs to rest, so Jakey fetches Pete the dinosaur for her to sleep with and I tuck her into bed.
Holding hands, Jake and I tiptoe out very quietly, thanks to our new shoes, and back downstairs for supper.
It’s me again, Jemima Button, and it is still the holidays, but not for long!
We only have a few days left and then it’s back to school.
It is NOT still the holidays for Mummy and Daddy, so our amazing babysitter Marge is coming to look after us today. Mummy has left us a list of things to do and it looks like this:
1. Jemima needs to prepare her show-and-tell
Marge and the Secret Tunnel Page 2
