Party Time

by Fiona Cummings

  “I think you and your sleepover pals are getting a bit out of hand,” Dad continued. “Lyndz’s mum told us tonight about the sleepover you were going to have to celebrate New Year. Well, that’s a definite no-no now.”

  “But …” I started to protest desperately.

  “No buts, Frankie. There’ll be no more sleepovers until we can all be sure that you know how to behave.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Not only had the M&Ms ruined the play, they’d also ruined my Christmas, my New Year – and my life!

  Well, after Kenny’s antics we were all in deepest darkest doom. The way our parents went on at us, you’d think we’d just committed the worst crime in the world. I mean, come on! Nobody died, did they? It’s just that things got a bit out of hand. I sometimes think parents were never young themselves, the way they get cross about the slightest thing.

  And they weren’t the only ones. Boy, was Mrs Weaver furious when we got into school the next day. You could virtually see the steam coming out of her ears. But at least we weren’t the only ones she was mad at. Even Emma Hughes couldn’t do anything right, which makes a huge change. She’s usually Mrs Weaver’s very favourite pet – but not on that day.

  “Emma Hughes!” she bawled her out. “When I say sit down and be quiet, I mean everyone – and that includes you!”

  Normally the rest of us would have spluttered with laughter, but we were too terrified. When Mrs Weaver is mad she turns into this fire-breathing monster – and you wouldn’t want to cross her, believe me.

  “Thank goodness we’ve only got one more day at school!” muttered Fliss as we were leaving. “I don’t think I could take much more of that.”

  “But that means only one more day of seeing each other,” grumbled Rosie. “The way my mum’s talking, we’re never going to see each other out of school again.”

  “I was really looking forward to our sleepover too,” admitted Lyndz, in deep gloom.

  “Just think, we might have had our last sleepover, ever!” whimpered Fliss.

  “Rubbish!” Kenny exploded. “I’m sure I can come up with a plan so that we can still have one!”

  The rest of us looked at her in amazement.

  “Stop right there!” I turned to her. “It’s your plans that got us into this mess to start with, remember. All we can do is be extra good over Christmas, and see if we can talk our parents round.”

  Kenny tutted and sighed and the others all nodded. But to be honest with you, I didn’t hold out much hope. We were well and truly in the doghouse this time.

  The next day was really sad, because we figured we wouldn’t be seeing each other again until the next term.

  “Just think, it’ll be next year before we see each other again!” marvelled Fliss.

  “Yeah, ages away!” Lyndz moaned.

  We exchanged our presents and gave each other a hug. Our parents had all come to meet us, because you know what it’s like at the end of term – you always seem to have so much stuff to take home. They were all huddled together when we got out of school, which wasn’t a good sign. But they seemed happy enough when we joined them. I mean they didn’t give us any of those “I-can’t-believe-you’ve-let-me-down-like-this” looks, which was a major improvement from the last few days.

  It felt really weird knowing I wouldn’t be seeing the others all over Christmas. I know it sounds a bit soppy, but I felt kind of lost without them. Still, there was lots of work to be done around the house. As well as all the usual Christmas stuff, Mum had grand plans for finally sorting out the nursery. Dad had decorated it and everything, but it still wasn’t ready for the baby.

  “There’s still a few weeks to go before it’s due,” Mum grinned, “but I guess they’ll fly by. So we should get it sorted out now.”

  I bet most people don’t spend their Christmas Eve moving boxes around, but that’s exactly what we did with ours.

  “You won’t overdo it, will you, Mum?” I asked anxiously. She was kneeling on the floor, putting away books and files.

  “You sound just like your father!” she laughed. “I’m fine. The only problem might be getting me upright again!”

  Dad brought my old cot down from the attic, and bags and bags of my baby clothes.

  “I can’t believe you kept all these!” I squealed as I took out the tiniest, cutest little baby-gros. “Look at these weeny bootees!”

  “I can’t believe we kept them either,” admitted Mum, turning them over in her hands. “They’re going to need a good wash.”

  The doorbell chimed and Dad went to answer it.

  “This baby is hardly going to be in the height of fashion, is it? Wearing all these old clothes!” Mum was giggling.

  “Speaking of fashion,” Dad came back in. “I’ve got just the person here to advise you.”

  “Fliss!” I yelled getting up to hug her. “It’s so nice to see you!”

  Fliss went pink.

  “Ooh, aren’t these beautiful?” She bent down to look at the clothes. “They’re so tiny and soft. Your baby’s going to look so cute!”

  “There you are!” laughed Dad. “If Fliss has given them her seal of approval, those clothes are fashionable enough for any baby! But you didn’t come to talk about baby fashion, did you Fliss?”

  “No!” Fliss blushed. “Mum sent this invitation for you.”

  She handed over a pretty invitation with embossed silver lettering.

  “It’s for a special party on New Year’s Eve, and you’ve just got to come, she’s got something exciting to tell everybody. Oops, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but you will come, won’t you?”

  It felt like we’d just been hit by a whirlwind.

  “Thank you, Felicity, that’s very kind,” Mum smiled up at her from the floor. “Tell your mum we’d love to come.”

  Fliss and I danced around.

  “The others are all coming too!” she squealed. “Except Kenny of course, she won’t be here.”

  That put kind of a damper on things. But still, at least I had a party to look forward to.

  When Fliss had gone, we tidied everything up in the nursery and went downstairs. Mum turned on the radio and we listened to some carols, joining in when we could remember the words. We had Dad’s famous pizza as a treat. And it was kind of cool, sitting there with just the glow from the tree lights brightening the darkness.

  “Right champ, time for bed, I think.” It was quite late when Dad turned on the main light. “Now you do know that if you make any noise. Father Christmas won’t come, don’t you?”

  “Dad!” I rolled my eyes at him.

  “Just make sure you hang up that stocking and go to sleep, OK?”

  I gave Mum and Dad a kiss and ran upstairs. I love Christmas and I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning and open all my presents!

  Did I just say I love Christmas? Well pardon me, that was a mistake. What I should have said was I used to love Christmas, but not any more. Uh-uh, no way. If I tell you that this Christmas was the biggest nightmare of my life, it wouldn’t be any exaggeration at all. You might well look shocked. Well, sit tight while I tell you all about it.

  It started off OK. I was awake at the crack of dawn and dived into the stocking at the end of my bed. There was loads of cool stuff in it, like nail varnish and a really great ring I’d wanted for ages. I opened some of the chocolates that were in there too and crept downstairs. It’s kind of a tradition in our house that we wait until everyone’s there before we open any presents under the tree. So I just had to feel my parcels and try to guess what they were until the oldies finally put in an appearance.

  I knew as soon as I saw Mum that something wasn’t right. She looked really grey and was kind of wincing when she moved.

  “Are you OK?” I asked her anxiously.

  “Sure am!” she tried to joke. “I didn’t sleep very well, that’s all. The baby thought it was party time and started doing the samba. Oooh!”

  She doubled over and slumped into a chair.<
br />
  I was dead worried, but Dad just reckoned she’d overdone it with the clearing up the day before.

  “She’ll be fine, love,” he reassured me, but I could tell that he was concerned too.

  That kind of took the edge off my presents really. But I got some great stuff. Fliss had bought me a lovely pair of earrings that looked like butterflies, and Lyndz had bought me a set of megatastic fake tattoos. I got a really cool long scarf from Rosie and a fab new purple pencil case from Kenny because mine was dropping to bits. Mum and Dad gave me loads of clothes and, get this – my own iPod! How cool is that?!

  I was really pleased, but all the time I was kind of worried about Mum. Every time I asked how she felt, Mum just said “fine”.

  It was after we’d eaten Dad’s famous Christmas nut roast that it was obvious something was very wrong. Mum kept getting these really bad pains every few minutes and was obviously in agony.

  “I think the baby’s coming!” she gasped. “We’d better get to the hospital.”

  I have seriously never been so scared in my whole life. I mean, the baby wasn’t due for a few weeks, so there must have been something really wrong. What if something awful happened? What if Mum lost the baby? Or what if something happened to Mum? I was so scared I couldn’t speak. But I tried not to let Mum see how worried I was. I had to be brave for her sake. So I whizzed round gathering stuff into a bag for her to take into hospital. Then we all piled into the car.

  It felt weird. Everyone we passed seemed really happy. There were children out on their new bikes and kids on new rollerblades. And I just wanted to yell, “How dare you look so happy when there’s something wrong with my mum?”

  I don’t think it took very long to get to the hospital, but it seemed like a lifetime. Dad helped Mum out of the car and led her into the Maternity unit.

  “She will be all right, won’t she Dad?” I squeezed his hand as some nurses led Mum away.

  “Of course. She’s in the right place now!” Dad smiled and gripped my hand tighter.

  As we sat in the waiting room, there seemed to be loads of babies crying, which just reminded me about Mum.

  “Do you fancy a cup of tea, love?” Dad asked after we’d been sitting staring at the wall for ages.

  I nodded. He went down the corridor to a machine and I waited for him. Suddenly a woman in a white coat came into the room.

  “Ah, you must be Frankie Thomas. I’m Dr Wilson,” she smiled and held out her hand. I was sure that she was going to tell me something awful, but she just laughed. “Don’t look so worried, everything’s fine. We’ve just been running a few tests on your mum and…oh hello, you must be Gwyn?”

  Dad had just come through the door with two steaming cups of tea.

  “I was just telling Frankie here that Helena’s absolutely fine. The baby’s doing great too. You can go and see her now if you like.”

  I started running down the corridor, until I remembered where I was and just made myself walk really fast. I almost threw myself at Mum when I got to her room, I was so pleased to see her.

  “Hey, there you are!” she beamed and ruffled my hair. “Sorry I’ve messed up your Christmas Day, Frankie. I bet you didn’t expect to spend it in a hospital, did you?”

  I shook my head, and tears started to roll down my face.

  “I’m sorry, darling,” she said, giving me a big hug.

  I wasn’t crying because I was feeling sorry for myself. I was crying because I was so relieved.

  “I’m just glad you’re all right,” I sniffed. “And the baby too.”

  “It was probably a touch of indigestion,” confirmed Dr Wilson. “These things can happen in the later stages of pregnancy.”

  We all looked at Dad.

  “OK, OK, no more pizzas or nut roasts!” he laughed, holding up his hands. “I know that you both think my cooking stinks, but this was rather a drastic way of telling me, don’t you think? Everything we eat from now until the baby’s born will definitely be out of a packet, I promise!”

  It felt so good to get out of hospital and back home. It was dark by that time and it felt really strange, like I hadn’t had a Christmas Day at all. Mum kept saying that she was sorry and that she’d make it up to me, but all I wanted was for her to be all right. What did it matter if I’d missed Christmas for one year?

  Well, it seems that even if I wasn’t bothered about missing Christmas Day, Mum was bothered for me. She spent most of Boxing Day on the phone and she wouldn’t tell me who she was calling.

  “Is that Gran?” I asked as I passed her in the hall. She shook her head and wouldn’t even tell me who it was when she’d finished. After that, she sneaked into Dad’s office to make all her calls. And if the phone rang she shouted, “That’s for me!” and lumbered into the office to get it.

  “You’re acting really weird, Mum,” I told her when she finally sat down. “Are you sure they didn’t give you any funny medicine when you were at the hospital?”

  “Don’t be rude!” she smirked. “All will be revealed soon enough.”

  I was still kind of worried about her, and to tell you the truth I didn’t think all this cloak-and-dagger stuff would be doing her any good at all. But Dad didn’t seem too worried about it. In fact, he seemed to be joining in. At one stage I could have sworn I heard Lyndz’s father’s van outside. Dad disappeared and returned about five minutes later saying it was only someone asking for directions. It was all very strange.

  On Monday, the day after Boxing Day, my gran came over from Nottingham, which was great. She brought loads of presents with her and fussed around Mum.

  “You know you really should have taken it easier,” she scolded her. “Having a baby at your age was never going to be easy. I’m not surprised you had a scare like that.”

  Mum rolled her eyes, and for a moment she looked like a little schoolgirl who’d just been told off.

  “So when are you going to be seeing all those nice friends of yours, Francesca?” Gran turned to me. (She can never quite bring herself to call me Frankie.)

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “On New Year’s Eve, probably.”

  I saw Mum and Dad look at each other. I figured they’d decided that Fliss’s mum’s party might be too exciting for Mum after what had just happened.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to go,” I told them quickly. “I’m not bothered about it, honestly. I don’t mind not seeing my friends.”

  Mum and Dad burst out laughing.

  “We’ll have to tell her now, won’t we!” Mum said at last.

  “Tell me what?” I asked anxiously. “You are all right, aren’t you Mum? You’re not going to have to go into hospital again, are you?”

  “Hey, calm down!” grinned Dad. “Since when have you been Miss Frankie Freak-Out? Your mum’s fine, aren’t you love?”

  “Course I am,” Mum reassured me. “You heard what the doctor said – I’ve just got to avoid your dad’s cooking for a while!”

  “Thanks!” Dad guffawed. “Anyway, we weren’t going to tell you yet but …”

  “Your sleepover’s back on!” Mum blurted out. “I couldn’t bear to think of you missing out on all your celebrations, so I rang everyone up yesterday. You’ll be having your early New Year sleepover at Lyndz’s tomorrow after all.”

  I didn’t know what to say – I was absolutely stunned.

  “You’re the greatest!” I squealed when I’d found my voice. I grabbed hold of Mum and Dad in a big hug, then grabbed hold of Gran too. She looked totally bewildered by everything.

  When I’d finally calmed down, Dad went into his office and came back holding an envelope.

  “Lyndz’s dad dropped this off for you yesterday. It’s an invitation, I think.”

  I quickly opened it, and as I pulled out the invitation, hundreds of tiny glitter snowflakes fell on to the floor.

  How cool was that?! She must have made it specially as soon as she knew that the sleepover was back on again.

  “
I’ll have to decide what to wear!” I shrieked, dashing up to my room.

  The invitation said ‘Dress to Impress’. Now what on earth did that mean? I was dying to know what the others were going to be wearing, but I didn’t want to ring them. I wanted it all to be a big surprise. Usually we have our sleepovers when we’ve just been at school together. This time I wouldn’t have seen the others for over a week, and I reckon that’s some kind of record for us. I couldn’t wait to see them again. But first I had the little problem of my outfit to sort out!

  It’s a good thing that Mum and Dad didn’t spring this sleepover on me at the last minute – it took me absolutely ages to decide what to wear. My bedroom looked as though a hurricane had hit it by the time I’d got my outfit sorted. Mind you, it was worth it! I put on a skinny-rib black top and black mini-skirt, then draped a couple of big chiffon scarves over the top of them, so they sort of floated away from my body as I moved. I had my best spiky-heel shoes on and masses of necklaces. As I twirled in front of the mirror I was well pleased.

  “Yep, Frankie, you’re certainly dressed to impress now, girl!” I told my reflection.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, you know,” Mum laughed. Then she came into my room.

  “Frankie! My goodness, what a tip!”

  Poor Mum! You ought to have seen her face.

  “I’ll tidy it up, don’t worry. You go and sit down!” I tried to shoo her away.

  “I didn’t realise getting dolled up was such a messy business!” Mum sighed. “That must have been where I’ve been going wrong all these years!”

  “Well, Mum, you’ve either got it or you haven’t!” I pretended to swank about.

  “And you’ll have an earful from your dad if you don’t clear this room up sharpish!”

  I changed out of my party outfit and hung it up carefully. Then Mum and I tackled the rest of my room. When we’d finished Mum said:

  “I loved your outfit by the way! You looked really grown-up.”