Mum glared at Mandy.
“Cool,” said Jack, and carried on eating.
I decided to try to be gracious about it, but halfway through I couldn’t help it, I had to make a little jibe. I mean, when’s the last time we got to go on holiday? Not since the trip to Bognor last summer with Auntie Susan, Uncle Dave, Hannah and Matthew.
“I hope you have a really amazing time,” I said. “I’d love the chance to go somewhere exciting.”
“We’ve never been abroad,” Mandy whispered very loudly to Stuart. It’s true. When we were little, Mum and Dad were too broke. Then Dad was ill, and since then we’ve done British holidays, usually with relatives. Gale-force winds, sitting on beaches in the rain eating sand-filled egg sandwiches, that sort of thing.
I wondered how she was planning to pay for this mini-break … and then it occurred to me. Our Rainy Day money!
The silence was deafening.
“I’ll help,” said Stuart, getting to his feet. Mandy was already clearing up in a martyr-like way.
“Thanks,” said Mum. She knew she couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t make things worse. I felt bad. Having been in Happy Mode when she told us the news, now she looked disappointed and tired.
“You’re doing a great job there,” said Stuart to Mandy.
Mandy did not reply, but pointedly picked up the empty plastic bread bag and put it in the normal trash bin, looking straight at Stuart! I saw Stuart flinch, but he didn’t say anything. Mandy caught my eye and signaled for “upstairs.”
Within minutes, me, Mandy and Jack were again in the Cupboard, having our second Council of War.
“What nerve!” said Mandy. “She’s turning into one of those mums who goes on holiday and leaves their kids at home alone. We should phone Social Services.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” I said, “but you know what this means? It means they’ve moved on to the second stage of their relationship. A mini-break is like a test to see if they can spend a lot of time together without wanting to kill each other. If they can get through a mini-break, they know that they could live together!”
Mandy looked horrified.
“I wouldn’t mind if Stuart lives in our house,” said Jack matter-of-factly. “He’s okay. He gave me a piggy bank.”
“Jack, you can’t think that someone’s okay just because they give you a cool piggy bank!” said Mandy. “If Adolf Hitler gave you a new piggy bank would you think he was okay?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “Who’s Adolf Hitler?”
MIDNIGHT
Yes, it’s official. I can’t sleep due to Mum’s latest major malfunction. Mandy doesn’t seem so bothered, she’s snoring away like a water buffalo. Charming. Before she went to sleep, she agreed with me that we can’t count on Jack to help us in our campaign to get rid of Stuart.
“Do you think he noticed that I didn’t recycle?” Mandy asked.
“Definitely,” I said. “I think he got the message. From now on we should never recycle when he’s around.”
“Good idea,” said Mandy. “What else can we do?”
This felt good, my big sister consulting me for tips on how to annoy Stuart. I racked my brains. Now was my chance to show my expertise, my vast skills in the operation of Grown-Ups.
“I know,” I said at last. “You know how he hates advertising and he wears that ‘No Logo’ T-shirt all the time? I think we need to get branded up!”
“Katie,” said Mandy in admiration, “you’re an Evil Genius!”
“I know,” I said. Sometimes you have to admit you’ve got what it takes.
Tuesday, August 25
WORRIED MODE
Grown-Ups go into Worried Mode when things are not going the way they want them to—especially if this means you or they will be in danger, or not be safe and secure.
Grown-Ups can also switch to Worried Mode when they feel that people are criticizing them or are angry or annoyed with them.
I just walked into the kitchen, and Mum’s looking really worried. She’s just been on the phone with Gran Sutton, who’s told her not to bother coming to the lunch she invited us to the other week. We are definitely not in her good book.
I think it’s due to Gran Sutton’s not being happy about Mum seeing Stuart. After all, Dad was her son, and now Mum’s got this younger man on the go. I’ve stopped calling him Yellow Tie Man now. I’ve joined Mandy in calling him the Boy Toy.
Now Mum’s on the phone with Auntie Julie. She’s trying to get reassurance probably. Seeing as we all live in Brindleton, family is pretty important.
Of course, all the aunts and uncles and cousins don’t get along all the time, but we know we can rely on each other. I don’t know what we’d have done without everyone after Dad died. Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave were brilliant. Probably because not only is Auntie Susan my mum’s sister, but Uncle Dave’s my dad’s brother—which technically makes me and Hannah double cousins! Which is cool, though probably not that unusual in a place like Brindleton.
We ate dinner almost every night at Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave’s house for months and months, until Mum decided that she was going to throw herself into cooking tons of things.
Even now, Mum can lift the phone and mention to Uncle Pete or Uncle Kevin that a cupboard door needs fixing and they’ll be round that night. And if anyone needs our help, we’re there for them too. We all look out for one another. It’s a good feeling.
So it would be no joke if there was some sort of family feud thanks to the Boy Toy. Which is another reason why it would be best for everyone if Mum dumped him.
Plus Mum can’t even talk to Stuart about all the trouble he’s causing. He has a very strange attitude about family. I know his parents live in Oxford somewhere, but he always changes the subject if you ask too many questions. Mum told us he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.
The other day, I asked him when he was next going to visit his mum and dad.
“Maybe around Christmas,” he said.
“When did you last see them?” I asked.
“Easter, I think,” he replied. It was so weird! It was as if he thought it was normal to go and see your parents, who live really close to you, twice a year! Even Mum looked slightly surprised by that one.
“Don’t you like them?” asked Jack. We can always rely on Jack to get straight to the point.
Stuart looked embarrassed.
“Of course I do,” he said, and then he went really quiet.
Something about his tone of voice made us not want to ask any more. I can imagine Stuart’s poor mum and dad sitting waiting for him to visit them. But he’s too busy visiting us to give them a moment’s thought. And to think Great-Grandma Peters feels neglected!
I’ll just have to leave Mum with her worries for now; I’m planning on going into Oxford with Hannah. It’s just the two of us, as Loops is doing a gymnastics competition. But Mum’s asked me to take Jack to the library first, because he wants some Asterix books, so I’ve got to hurry.
11:00 a.m.
I am just back from the library and am rushing even more to get ready for the Oxford trip … but I HAD to write down what’s just happened. There I was in the library with Jack, telling him to hurry up and choose an Asterix book or I’d kick him in the bum, when who should walk into the library but Thomas Finch!
He didn’t see us, and can you guess what he did? He went straight over to the Romance section and picked out about ten Mills & Boon books!!!!!!!
“Hello, Thomas!” I said casually, strolling over. “I didn’t know you were a Mills and Boon fan.…”
He went absolutely beetroot under his tan.
“They—they’re for my mum,” he stammered. “She’s got the flu.”
“Yes, I’m sure they are!” I said, with what I hoped was a knowing smile. “Come on, Jack, we’ve got to go!”
3:56 p.m.
Had the best trip to Oxford with Hannah. We had burgers, then went up to Oxford Castle and spent about an hour drinking one cup of
coffee each and watching people come and go. Some of those international exchange students—the ones over learning English as a foreign language—are almost as good-looking as Ben Clayden. Then we went to all our favorite shops, I didn’t buy anything, but Hannah got a belt.
On the bus ride home, I told Hannah about Thomas and the romance books.
“I don’t think they’re for his mum at all,” I said. “I bet he reads them every night.”
Hannah dissolved into giggles.
“That’s harsh, Katie,” she managed to get out. “And I thought you liked him.”
Why did she think that? I don’t fancy him at all. Well, maybe I do a bit. But why on earth would I want to go out with someone who can’t talk to me and whose favorite book is Love Under the Lonely Moonlight?
Hannah gets some weird ideas in her head.
4:30 p.m.
Mum’s in the kitchen right now having a cup of tea with Auntie Susan. They’ve decided that Mum’s going to host lunch at our house on Saturday so that Auntie Julie and Auntie Susan and Uncle Dave can meet Stuart properly. This is obviously a reaction to Gran Sutton’s disapproval.
This plan seems to have cheered Mum up slightly, although I think she still looks worried. I don’t like her being in Worried Mode. Worried Mode can lead to Stressed or even Sad Mode, and neither of those is good.
Saturday, August 29
STRESSED MODE
When Grown-Ups are in Stressed Mode you have to watch out, because they get all uptight about stuff they don’t normally care about.
It’s best to treat Stressed Mode in a similar way to Grumpy or Angry Mode and use the Avoidance Technique. Whatever you do, don’t suggest to them that they should “chillax.” That is absolutely the worst word you can use when you are around a Grown-Up in Stressed Mode. It is guaranteed to tip them over the edge.
Today has been quite a day.
Mum had this bizarre idea of having a picnic instead of a normal lunch indoors—it’s the typically random sort of thing my mum does.
When I got in from Hannah’s, Mum was wandering about as usual in the kitchen in Dad’s sweater, but I could tell from the way her shoulders were slightly hunched that stress was setting in. So I crept upstairs to the Cupboard, where Mandy was looking uncharacteristically thoughtful while straightening her hair.
“We’ve got to do something to show Mum he’s not good enough for her,” she said, without even so much as a hello first.
It was then that I had a brain wave.
“Stuart gets hay fever,” I said. “Why don’t we mow the lawn while Mum’s at the minimart?”
There was a silence while Mandy took it in.
“Genius!” she said.
So while Mum was out buying her picnic ingredients, Mandy and I got to work. It only took five minutes, as our back garden is so small we can’t even play swingball in it without hitting our rackets on the fence.
When Mum got back from the shops and saw us putting the lawn mower away, she gave a little yelp. Mums do that sometimes, the sudden yelping.
“You mowed the lawn! I think it might set off Stuart’s hay fever!”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “We thought we were helping.”
“Never mind,” said Mum, putting her arm around me, “you’re good girls for wanting to help.”
If only she knew.
I had the job of spreading picnic blankets on the newly mown grass, and of course, I made sure that they got covered in stray clippings we’d not raked up properly.
Stuart turned up first. He and Mum had a great big kiss in the front hall, and I could tell Jack was thinking about the tentacle-faced Ood. He wasn’t the only one.
As soon as Stuart went outside he said, “Oh … you cut the grass.…”
“Stuart, I’m so sorry …,” said Mum. “Mandy and Katie forgot about your hay fever! They were just trying to help.”
Stuart gave me a penetrating look. I wondered if he suspected anything. I could see that his eyes were watering already. He got out a large handkerchief (I mean, who carries handkerchiefs? Boy Scouts and your granddad, that’s who) and wiped them and his giant nose, which was beginning to run.
“I’ll be okay,” he said unconvincingly.
“Well, at least come inside now,” said Mum. “You can help me with the drinks.”
Mum was making fruit punch, so Mandy was cutting up oranges in the kitchen.
“Hi, Mandy!” said Stuart in his cheerful voice.
Mandy glared at him. Then she continued hacking away at the orange as if she was chopping Stuart’s head into pieces. He looked disturbed and glanced at Mum. Mum looked questioningly at Mandy, who continued hacking at the orange with a demented smile on her face. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Mum was by now so massively stressed out she practically leaped into the air.
“Katie, can you get that?” she cried.
I answered the door. It was Auntie Julie, carrying a picnic basket.
“I’ve brought my own,” she whispered. “Thought it was safer.”
Auntie Julie was wearing a flowery dress. The trouble was that this one was way too frilly, with bright colors, so it made her look like she was wearing a pair of Nan’s curtains.
Auntie Julie is not fat, but she’s not thin either. She’s “curvy,” as my mum puts it, which means that she’s got a big bum. This dress made her bum look enormous. I could see Jack staring at it (he couldn’t avoid it, it was at his eye level) and I wondered if he was going to make some comment. To my relief he didn’t. I didn’t say anything, of course; I’ve learned that honesty is not always appreciated by Grown-Ups, especially if it’s about how they look.
“Nice dress, Jules!” trilled Mum, switching easily into Lying Mode. “Come on through, we’re in the kitchen. Would you like a glass of punch?”
Mum was so stressed she really did not seem herself at all. Her voice didn’t sound like her own—it was all falsely bright and cheery.
“Lovely!” said Auntie Julie, imitating Mum’s false voice and winking at me.
“Hello,” said Stuart to Auntie Julie. “Nice weather for it.” Then we stood in terrible silence, the sort of silence where everyone is wishing they could think of something to say but can’t.
Stuart blew his nose. His eyes were beginning to look bloodshot.
“Have you got a cold?” asked Auntie Julie.
“It’s hay fever,” said Mum.
“Have you got antihistamines?”
“I don’t take them,” said Stuart. “I try to only use natural therapies.”
Auntie Julie looked disapproving; her mouth tightened, as if she was stopping herself from saying something.
“So, how was your date last night?” Mum hurriedly changed the subject.
“A complete nightmare.” Auntie Julie sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. She seemed exhausted just remembering. “I’d arranged to meet him in the center of Oxford. When I saw him from a distance I turned round and walked in the opposite direction.”
“You didn’t even introduce yourself?” asked Mum.
“No way! I phoned him from the bus to say I couldn’t make it.”
“Why didn’t you talk to him? He might have been a nice person.”
“He was wearing a bobble hat.”
“A woolly hat? Well, that can be okay.…”
“No, not just a woolly hat. A bobble hat. A woolly hat with a great big pom-pom on it.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. It was the sort of hat very young children wear. And it’s the middle of summer.…”
The doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it!” said Mum, and fled from the kitchen.
We could hear Uncle Dave, Auntie Susan, Hannah and Matthew in the hall, and Mum being super-polite. When they came through, Mum made us all go and sit on the blankets in the garden, as the kitchen was too small for everyone to stand in it.
Mum passed round the punch and then brought out the plates of sandwiches. She went to the kitchen door and shout
ed to Jack to come back out, as he’d disappeared upstairs.
Auntie Susan had brought her own enormous basket for her family. Which—like Auntie Julie bringing her food—was a bit rude, seeing as Mum had gone to so much trouble. You could see that this was stressing Mum out even more.
The only people forced to eat Mum’s sandwiches were me, Mandy, Jack and Stuart, whose nose was now twice its normal size—and remember, it was pretty enormous to start with. His eyes were streaming. I began to feel bad about what I’d done. His whole face was swelling now. Then it occurred to me, what if our earlier actions actually killed him? We would be murderers.
“Have you got a cold?” Auntie Susan asked Stuart as she nibbled on a chicken leg. I wished I could swap my beetroot sandwich for it.
“It’s allergies,” Mum snapped.
“Have you got antihistamines?”
“I don’t take them,” said Stuart. “I only go for natural remedies when possible.”
It was beginning to feel like déjà vu.
Auntie Susan snorted. “Well, a lot of good your natural remedies are doing you right now. Alison, why don’t you get some for him?”
“No, honestly, I don’t like to take that sort of thing.” Stuart looked very uncomfortable, but it was hard to tell if this was because of:
a) his rapidly swelling face, which was making him look like the Elephant Man
b) Auntie Susan not taking no for an answer
c) the tuna and marmalade sandwich he was trying to choke down.
“Oh for goodness’ sake! Why don’t you JUST TAKE THE PILLS!” Mum shouted.
This is what happens with Stressed Mode—all that tension has to come out somehow. Shouting is the typical way with most Grown-Ups, but this was so unlike our mum! Even she looked shocked.
Stuart stared at her in disbelief, looking like a very long-suffering Elephant Man. Nobody knew where to look or what to say. Which just seemed to annoy Mum more.
Thank goodness Jack knows how to fill an awkward silence.
“Auntie Julie,” he said, “what does the word ‘epic’ mean?”
Diary of a Parent Trainer Page 8
