How to Get the Body You Want by Peony Pinker

by Jenny Alexander

  It isn’t every day your gran walks in to find the whole family lined up on the kitchen floor like sausages under the grill. Mum sat up and explained what we were doing. She gave Dad a hefty nudge. He spluttered back to life.

  ‘Well don’t mind me if you want to go on with your… er… exercises,’ Gran said. ‘I just came to tell you the removals men are booked, and I’ll be moving into Nash House at the weekend.’

  She stepped carefully over us to get to the family organiser, pen at the ready.

  ‘Ooh – it looks like you’ve got rather a lot on! I’ll put it in the margin with an arrow.’

  By that time we were all on our feet except Dennis, who was doing a rabbit version of the corpse pose in his favourite spot under the radiator.

  ‘Would you like to try a balance pose now?’ Stella said. ‘They’re very good for de-stressing.’

  Gran said she could do with a bit of de-stressing after walking in on so many family corpses, so she joined in. We did something called the tree pose, which meant we had to try and stand on one leg and put our hands together above our heads, although I thought we’d have looked more like a tree with both feet on the ground and our arms spread out.

  Dad’s tree kept pitching over to one side as if it was getting hit by gusts of wind, and then toppling over. That made everybody laugh.

  ‘It isn’t working,’ Dad said.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Stella. ‘Laughing is a great de-stresser too.’

  Dad was delighted with Stella. He got his notebook and took down lots of ideas for his chapter on stress.

  ‘I’m going to call it “Keep calm and don’t panic,”’ he said. ‘I’ll start straight away, while it’s fresh.’

  He turned on his laptop and sat tippety-tapping at the keys while Mum made tea for Gran and Stella. I sat down with Dennis and he hopped up onto my lap for a cuddle.

  It was as calm in the kitchen as when we were all playing dead. Then suddenly Dad stopped tippety-tapping. He thumped a few keys. He gave his laptop a shake.

  ‘Well isn’t that just great?’ he cried. ‘Isn’t this just fine and dandy? My blooming computer’s crashed!’

  It was always love-hate between Dad and his laptop. He thought it played up just to annoy him.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ he yelled at it. ‘Stop right now or I’ll have you recycled. I mean it!’

  Mum said it was the perfect opportunity for him to keep calm and not panic, but to be honest that really didn’t help things at all.

  Chapter 10

  The whale and the goldfish

  Dad’s laptop went on playing up for days. He said it was only Stella’s stress-busting exercises that got him through it.

  ‘Well, and Matt,’ said Mum.

  It was a fair point, considering that Matt took one look at it and fixed it when he walked in after school on Thursday to find Dad threatening to throw it out the window. Dad said on the upside, it was fixed, but on the downside it took a teenage boy to fix it. Then he did some tree poses.

  That evening, Dad came home from five-a-side and did some more tree poses. The coach had made him sit out for the whole session.

  ‘He put me on the bench,’ said Dad, rocking from side to side on one leg. ‘He actually said, “Don’t break it!”’

  Mum was outraged. ‘You might have put on a little bit of weight with all that comfort eating, she said, ‘but you must still be pretty fit. You’ve been jogging for miles every morning.’

  Dad tried to stretch his arms in the air and toppled over as if he’d been felled by an invisible lumberjack. After a few more tries, he gave up and watched some Simpsons. Stella did say that laughing was good for stress-busting too.

  On Friday, Primrose and me did our usual early morning dive into Dot’s Cafe. There was something delicious about sitting inside eating egg and bacon rolls when we were supposed to be running around in the dark.

  Primrose was in a good mood. She seemed to like these secret breakfasts as much as I did, once she’d got over the trauma of having to get out of bed early.

  ‘So tomorrow’s the big day,’ I said. ‘Have you tried on your dress?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No, but it’s bound to fit better now, isn’t it? I mean, we’re getting up at the crack of dawn, jogging down here and doing yoga stuff, and it was only a little bit too tight.’

  A little bit too tight? As in, skunks are a little bit too smelly?

  ‘We have been eating two breakfasts,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but Fitness Flakes don’t count,’ goes Primrose. ‘It isn’t as if we’ve been filling our faces with doughnuts all day like Dad.’

  ‘No-o…’ I tried not to think about my new nickname at school, Two-puddings Peony.

  Primrose doesn’t usually talk about anything but herself but, like I said, she was in a good mood. She asked me what the plan was for Sunday, and our walk up Beacon Hill. She even seemed quite interested when I told her. Talking about it made me feel more excited than ever. Just one more day to get through and then Hello Sunday, and Eat my dust, Super-fit-Toby!

  But as it turned out, that Saturday was a lo-o-o-o-o-ong day. We didn’t do our jog on Saturdays because I already had to get up really early to work at the kennels and Primrose couldn’t cope without at least one proper lie-in every week. Normally, when I get up, everyone else is still in bed. Mum sometimes pops down to say cheerio and have a nice morning, but I don’t mind if she doesn’t. That morning when I went downstairs, Mum was already up. She said she was far too keen to get going to lie around in bed.

  ‘It’s our first proper gardening job since Christmas,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing like getting stuck in to some good heavy clearing and digging!’

  She was like Jamie Grey in Year 5’s little brother when he’s been at the Smarties, running around and talking too much.

  ‘Where did I put my gardening gloves? What’s wrong with this back door key? I hope Stella’s bringing a flask. I’d better call her! Where’s my mobile?…’

  I felt cheated out of my peace and quiet because I really like the feeling of being the only one awake. I like creeping around and shutting the front door quietly after me.

  Crash! Mum managed to get the back door open. ‘Hello Stella!’ She got through on her mobile just as the door hit the wall. She went out into the yard to look for her gardening gloves, talking at the top of her voice.

  I waved out the window and went. As I walked up the zig-zag path, the lights were coming on in the houses. My friend Becky was waiting for me outside her house and we took the footpath across the field to Hayden’s Lane.

  Becky’s older than me, but she’s lovely to talk to. She really listens, unlike some people I could mention. She totally understood why I was annoyed with Mum, and she totally remembered all the things we had on the family organiser that weekend.

  As we cleaned out the pens and walked the dogs around the three meadows, we chatted about Primrose and Matt. Becky knows Matt because his family own the kennels, but that’s a whole nother story. (“How to get what you want by Peony Pinker,” to be precise.) Then we talked about Beacon Hill and the weigh-in, and Dad’s secret stash, and Mum’s pond-digging.

  It was a sunny morning but quite chilly, so we couldn’t hang around. We got through all our jobs by twelve o’clock and went back to Becky’s house for a sandwich.

  When I got home, Primrose pounced on me.

  ‘Mum and Dad are out – you’ve got to help me!’ she said.

  She had done her make-up and pinned her hair with a pink fabric flower, and she was wearing the anniversary dress. It actually looked quite loose, but when she turned her back to me, I saw why.

  ‘Can you do my zip up?’

  I could see it wasn’t going to work but I pretended to try. I tugged at the zip.

  ‘Come on, Peony. Hurry up,’ goes Primrose. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘It seems to be stuck,’ I said.

  She pulled away and went to the mirror, tw
isting round to see the back of her dress. She let out a shriek.

  ‘I’m a whale!’ she blubbed. ‘What’s happened to me?’

  Two breakfasts every day for a month, that’s what’s happened, I thought.

  ‘Wear your coat on top,’ I suggested. ‘He’ll never notice.’

  Primrose told me I was being ridiculous, which was a bit rich in the circumstances.

  ‘I can’t go,’ she said. ‘I was really looking forward to it and I can’t go.’

  Then she flopped on the floor and sat there looking droopy, like Cinderella waiting for her fairy godmother to come and say, ‘You shall go to the ball!’

  Unfortunately, we haven’t got a fairy godmother, so after a five-minute wait, Primrose jumped up and flounced out of the room, flashing her bare back at me.

  If I thought I was going to get some peace, I was wrong, because just then our non-fairy actual mother came home for lunch.

  ‘I’m knackered!’ she announced. ‘Stella’s not stopping for lunch, but I said I had to come back for you girls. Make me a sandwich, Peony?’

  With that, she collapsed in corpse pose on the rug. I felt like saying I was busy but I wasn’t, so I found some bread and got buttering. I was slicing some cheese when there was a knock on the door. It was Matt. He looked so happy. I couldn’t bear it.

  Mum sat up. Matt showed her the necklace he had bought for Primrose.

  ‘She’s going to love it,’ she said.

  I handed Mum her sandwich and called up the stairs to Primrose. Like Gran says, it’s always best to get horrible things over and done with as quick as possible, like pulling off a plaster.

  ‘Matt’s here!’

  After approximately three centuries Primrose appeared in the doorway. She was like a breath of cold air. If Matt was planning to get huggy, he thought the better of it.

  ‘Have I missed something?’ Mum muttered.

  Matt told Primrose she looked fantastic. ‘I love you in that dress,’ he said. He slipped his hand into his pocket. He was going to give her the necklace. No-o-o-o!!!

  ‘Where’s Sam?’ Primrose demanded, not bothering with any of that you-look-nice stuff, though he did look nice. He was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt he wore on their first-ever date, but it’s easier for boys. They always look about the same to me.

  Matt pulled his hand out of his pocket and stared at Primrose like a goldfish that’s hit the glass. He muttered something about Sam’s arthritis playing up, and him not being able to walk very far nowadays, what with being so old and everything.

  ‘The whole idea of our anniversary was to do the same as our first date,’ said Primrose. ‘Considering our first date was taking Sam for a walk on the coast path, I don’t see how we can do that when you’ve left him at home!’

  Primrose said they might as well forget about the whole thing.

  ‘What – the anniversary or… are you dumping me?’ said Matt, in disbelief.

  ‘I think you should go,’ Primrose said.

  He didn’t move. She made an impatient huffy noise and left the room backwards, so Matt wouldn’t see her gaping zip.

  Mum said, ‘I’m so sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s got into her. It’s probably her hormones.’

  After he’d gone, Mum tried to talk to Primrose but she wouldn’t open her door.

  ‘Go away!’ she said.

  Mum went back to digging the pond. She had just left when Gran called in on her way up to Nash House. The removals men were bringing her furniture.

  ‘Could you go up to the road and show them the way, Peony, while I go on ahead and open up the house?’

  There’s no road to Nash House. The removals men would have to park at the top of the hill and carry all Gran’s beds and cupboards and stuff down the zig-zag path, then fifty metres along the coastal footpath. They were not going to be happy!

  ‘Is Primrose already out with Matt?’ said Gran.

  I shook my head.

  ‘They’ve had a big bust-up.’

  Gran didn’t look amazed. She went up to talk to Primrose. She got her to open her bedroom door. She persuaded her to put some jeans on and come and help her decide where everything should go.

  As they were coming back down the stairs, I heard Gran say, ‘Remember, when things hit rock bottom, the only way is up.’ No-one else would ever dare say stuff like that to Primrose!

  Chapter 11

  Big beacons and bad lies

  We borrowed the Scouts’ minibus for the drive to Beacon Hill. It had enough room for Toby’s parents, Toby, Leah, me, Jess and everything we would need to survive if we should accidentally take a wrong turning and end up getting lost for a month in the Arctic.

  Jess, of course, knew five facts about beacons. It would never have occurred to me to look ‘beacon’ up. I thought it was just the name of the hill.

  ‘A beacon is a high point with something on top to draw attention to it,’ she said, as we trundled along the lanes in the creaky old bus. ‘Usually, that will be a fire or light, but you can have daytime beacons such as towers or flagpoles. That’s two facts.

  ‘Number three – in the old days they used beacon fires near the sea to guide ships in – but pirates sometimes put them in the wrong places to trick ships into running aground.

  ‘Number four – lots of hills in Britain are called Beacon Hill, and the hills between Wales and England are called the Brecon Beacons because the Welsh people used to light fires along the tops to warn everyone when the English were coming.’

  ‘Number five – the beacon on this Beacon Hill’s a ruined tower that’s supposed to be haunted!’

  Toby’s mum said there wasn’t much left of the tower but it was still worth the climb because you could see most of Cornwall from the top on a fine day. Unless a miracle happened, we weren’t even going to see most of Beacon Hill, let alone Cornwall, because it was really foggy.

  Toby’s dad pulled into a bumpy lay-by beside a gate with a footpath sign. We all jumped out. Toby’s mum did some last-minute re-organising of the back-packs so that we would all be carrying our fair share. We put on our coats and she gave us some over-trousers from the Scouts’ all-weather-adventure locker behind the back seats.

  ‘It’s going to be wet walking up there today,’ she said.

  Toby’s dad opened his waterproof map and put his compass on it, turning it this way and that like a proper explorer, although I didn’t think he really needed to as the path looked like a deep ditch between high hedges and it would be nearly impossible to get lost.

  But after a few hundred metres, we came to some woods and the path disappeared. We stomped along under the trees on a thick layer of pine needles and dead leaves that was as hard going as walking on sand.

  Jess said she was glad she’d been doing practice walks on her own every day because this would have been pretty tough otherwise. I just hoped it would get easier once we got out of the woods.

  If you think walking up a steep slope of tussocky grass and cunningly-concealed rocks just waiting for you to slip on them is easier than being ankle deep in pine needles, then I suppose it was.

  ‘It’s quite low-viz,’ Toby’s dad said.

  ‘Low visibility,’ Toby explained. His face was drenched in mist.

  ‘It means we can’t see very far,’ said Leah. Droplets hung from her wet hair like melt-water running off icicles.

  ‘Stick together, now,’ said Toby’s mum. ‘We don’t want anyone to get left behind.’

  I was trying not to puff and pant because nobody else seemed to be having the same trouble getting enough air into their lungs. It was actually a relief when I stepped on a stone and fell over because at least it meant we stopped for a few minutes to check my ankle was all right.

  ‘You’ve gone bright red!’ Toby said. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You probably just haven’t done much wild-walking before,’ said Toby’s mum. ‘Most people go up the easy side.’

  There was
an easy side?

  ‘Let’s have some Kendal Mint Cake,’ suggested his dad, refolding the map.

  We went a bit slower after that. We played word-games and Toby’s dad told us adventure stories. I would have really enjoyed it, except it felt like someone had filled my over-trousers with earth and then topped them up with water.

  It didn’t help that I couldn’t see more than a few metres in front of my face. I kept thinking we must be nearly at the top, we must be nearly at the top, but the hill just went on and on, up and up, under the thick swirling mist.

  ‘Let’s sing some songs!’ said Leah.

  On the upside, when they started singing no-one could hear me puffing like a hot dog, but on the downside, everyone got into the rhythm and speeded up. It was all I could do not to fall behind. So much for ‘Eat my dust, Toby’! So much for Dad’s fit-in-four-weeks campaign!

  Suddenly, it started pouring with rain, as if someone had turned on the great cold shower in the sky. Whoosh! The rain splashed off the stones and drummed on our hoods. Toby’s dad whipped out his handy all-weather shelter, which was shaped like an orange segment, and we all squashed in underneath it.

  ‘I think it’s time for lunch!’ said Toby’s mum.

  So there we were, eating our sandwiches in the pouring rain half-way up a huge hill under an all-weather shelter with our legs sticking out… and it occurred to me that this was one of those picnics, like Hawk’s Tor with the hailstones as big as marbles, or the day they rowed to the island.

  It was a picnic we would always remember. We would talk about it in the future. We would say, ‘That was the best picnic ever!’ I forgot about my heavy legs. I tucked into my sandwiches and watched the water bouncing off my wellies and over-trousers.

  Jess told us five facts about rain. Leah started a story-making game. Toby passed round wedges of cherry cake he had made himself. I would have wanted to stay there forever except I was starting to get cold, so I didn’t mind when Toby’s dad said, ‘Who’s ready to push on?’