Ugenia stepped inside the house, it felt cold and empty. ‘Uncle Harry, I’m back!’ There was no reply – only silence. That’s weird – Mum and Dad said he would be here, she thought.
Ugenia noticed the answering machine was flashing. She pressed the button.
‘Hi, Edward and Pandora, Harry here. I couldn’t hear every word you said on the phone – the kitchen was so noisy. I can definitely look after Ugenia next week – I think that’s what you said. Call me on my mobile as I’m off to the USA for a couple of days. Beep . . . you have no more messages,’ said the answering machine.
Ugenia froze. Uncle Harry had obviously misunderstood the arrangements. What did it all mean?
Suddenly it hit her – Ugenia Lavender was HOME ALONE!
‘Hmm, maybe I should call my parents,’ thought Ugenia aloud. ‘But Doctor Clooney did say I should be a grown-up and they do need a rest.’
Then, suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave. ‘Ingenious!’ she cried. ‘I’m in charge! I can be a grown-up – how hard can that be?’
Ugenia decided that she should act like it was any normal weekday afternoon for any normal responsible grown-up.
‘I’ll prepare tonight’s dinner!’ she said to herself. Proudly she peered inside the fridge. It was empty except for one lonely pickled gherkin and half a can of sardines that looked like they had been up all night fighting.
She looked in the cupboards to find only twenty-five cans of baked beans and a piece of garlic.
‘Beans! I can’t live on just beans. What would a grown-up do?’
Then, suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave. Incredible! thought Ugenia. Food shopping! I’ll go to the supermarket.
Ugenia grabbed fifteen pounds from the kitchen drawer and jumped on her red bike, feeling really grown up as she sped down Boxmore Hill. ‘Yeah, I can do this, being a grown-up isn’t so hard, right?’
Ugenia parked her bike, grabbed a large trolley and wandered into the ginormous twenty-four-hour, bargain-budget, bulk-buyers’ supersized supermarket. She stared at the tall shelves, stuffed with biscuits, beetroot, bubble bath, pasta, prawns, parsnips, tomatoes, turnips, turkey, salami, shampoo, smoked salmon and a mountain of washing powder that was stacked as high as a skyscraper looming over her.
Ugenia felt slightly confused by so much selection. She stared at the very efficient people with their shopping lists.
‘Rats! I should have made a list too. Still, I’ll just have to make do,’ she declared as she began loading her trolley with bread rolls, ham, pineapple, popcorn, parsnips, olives, ice cream, macaroons and finally a large family sized packet of toilet rolls.
‘Ah, broccoli, grown-ups always eat broccoli.’
‘Ah, washing-up liquid, grown-ups always do the washing-up.’
‘Ah, salmon, grown-ups always eat salmon,’ announced Ugenia as she approached the cashier, feeling rather pleased with herself for her grown-up choices.
The shop assistant at the till was wearing a blue nylon uniform, a name badge that said ‘Angela’ and a very bored expression.
Angela rang up Ugenia’s items. ‘That’s twenty pounds, please.’
Ugenia stared in her purse. She had only fifteen. ‘I don’t have enough money,’ said Ugenia, who suddenly felt a bit embarrassed.
‘Well, you’ll just have to put some things back then, won’t you,’ said Angela blankly.
Ugenia stared at her pile of shopping and tried to decide what should go.
‘Oh, hurry up,’ sighed the man in the queue behind her.
‘We haven’t got all day,’ said the woman behind him.
‘Come on, love,’ huffed another lady behind her as the queue began to grow.
Ugenia began to feel slightly panicky. ‘Er, the toilet roll? No, I need that. The salmon? No. Broccoli? No. The popcorn? No, I definitely need the popcorn!’
Meanwhile, the large queue behind began to give more impatient sighs. Just as Ugenia was about to freak out and make a run for it, she heard a familiar voice.
‘Hello! Ugenia! It’s me, Colleen.’
‘Hello there,’ said Ugenia, who was a bit confused. What was Colleen doing back from Lamorca? And what was she doing in a twenty-four-hour, bargain-budget, bulk-buyers’ supersized supermarket blue nylon uniform?
‘I couldn’t handle being a rep in Lamorca any longer,’ said Colleen. ‘All that karaoke and aqua-aerobics. I’ve gone up in the world now – I’m the Assistant Deputy Consulting Produce and Livestock Floor Supervisor!’ smiled Colleen. ‘Since you and your family were so lovely to me out in Lamorca I want to help you out with your shopping. Angela, give her my staff discount – that should cover the difference.’
‘Wow, thank you!’ said Ugenia gratefully.
Ugenia then proudly wheeled out her ten bags of shopping into the car park. How am I supposed to get all this home? she thought as she stared at the trolley, then at her bike. This was proving more difficult than she thought.
Suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave. ‘Invention!’ she cried. ‘A trolley-pulling bike!’
Ugenia just so happened to have a thick piece of rope in her luminous yellow rucksack (it was one of those just-in-case-of-emergency things and this was it!). She tied the trolley to her bike and slowly cycled up Boxmore Hill.
‘This is proving to be harder than I thought,’ puffed Ugenia. But finally, Ugenia reached 13 Cromer Road and thought about what a grown-up would do next.
‘Make a cup of tea, put the shopping away and then plan supper!’ exclaimed Ugenia.
So Ugenia put the kettle on, stuffed the fridge with all ten bags of shopping, including the toilet rolls and shampoo, then squeezed the door shut with a big sigh of relief.
Ugenia listened to the lonely sound of the electrical groan of the fridge. The house felt very cold and empty suddenly, when she remembered she was home alone, all by herself.
‘I’m OK, I’m practically grown up,’ said Ugenia, trying to make herself feel better. What do grown-ups do at dinner time anyway?’
Ugenia stared at the dining-room table. It had a pretty, lacy tablecloth with delicate china dinner plates on it, and in the very middle was her mother’s most precious porcelain ancient-tribal-statue headpiece.
Suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave, ‘Invitations! I’ll have a dinner party!’ she cried.
Ugenia quickly rang her best friend. ‘Rudy, I have a plan,’ said Ugenia in her best, grown-up voice. ‘It’s a bit of a tricky mission impossible called “Dining with Ms Lavender”. I’ll need the best people for the job, dedication and loyalty, so call Trevor and Bronte for help right away. Meet immediately round at mine.’
Rudy quickly made a couple of calls and rushed over to Ugenia’s. Bronte and Trevor came round a few minutes later.
‘As your dinner-party planner, I thought we need to focus on four major points,’ announced Rudy, pulling down his latest vision board, which had ‘Rudy’s Mission Impossible Plans’ on it in big black marker pen.
DINING WITH MS LAVENDER:
1. MENU – UGENIA. MUST BE SCRUMPTIOUS AND TASTY.
2. TABLE SETTING – BRONTE. DELICATE, SIMPLE STYLE NEEDED, WITH APPROPRIATE CUTLERY.
3. GUEST LIST – TREVOR. WHO WE INVITE IS VITAL – THEY MUST BE INTERESTING, STIMULATING AND CURRENTLY COOL (RUDY TO APPROVE).
4. DINNER IS SERVED AT A CIVILIZED TIME – 7 P.M. PROMPT.
‘Very nice,’ said Bronte.
‘Love it,’ said Ugenia.
‘Er . . . yeah,’ said Trevor.
‘Now remember,’ said Rudy, ‘this is a fine, elegant, stylish dinner party. There will be good conversation, light chit-chat and plenty of small talk! Here is a list of guests for you to invite.’ Rudy handed Trevor a list of names:
SITA
MAX
CARA
BILLY
SEBASTIAN
CHANTELLE
LIBERTY
&n
bsp; ANOUSHKA
LARA
‘Actually, I have a question,’ said Bronte. ‘Where’re your mum and dad?’
Ugenia gulped.
‘Er, they have just popped out for a bit. They needed some time to themselves,’ said Ugenia, determined to manage this situation by herself and be a grown-up. ‘Anyway, our dinner guests will be here in one hour, we have work to do!’
And so Bronte laid the table, Ugenia went to the kitchen to make mountains of food – with Rudy’s guidance – and Trevor began calling everyone.
‘Sounds great.’
‘Yes, I can come.’
‘I’ll bring a friend.’
‘A party! With food!’
‘Yeah, I’ll bring my mates.’
‘Oh, yeah, can I bring my brothers?’
‘Er . . . yeah, OK,’ said Trevor.
Before they knew it, everything was ready. The table looked immaculate, there was a magnificent spread of food with humongous plates of parsnips, pineapples, popcorn, macaroons, olives, ham, ice cream and bread rolls. And for napkins there was a family sized packet of toilet rolls.
‘Excellent!’ said Rudy.
‘Very nice,’ said Bronte.
‘Love it,’ said Ugenia.
‘Yeah,’ said Trevor.
Suddenly it was seven o’clock and the doorbell rang. An avalanche of people came pouring in.
Sita, who had brought her friend Sandra, who had brought Simon. Max, who had brought his friend Henry, who had brought Darcy. Cara, who had brought Camilla, who had brought Paris. Billy, who had brought Brittany, who had brought Bono with his new headbanging CD. Anoushka and Liberty came together and brought their friends David and Matthew and then, of course, Chantelle, who brought all eight of her brothers, who didn’t happen to mention their names. So, including Bronte, Trevor, Rudy and Ugenia that made a dinner party for twenty-nine people. Sebastian and Lara couldn’t make it.
‘Welcome to our world!’ announced Rudy, who offered everyone a glass of tarberry juice and before he even had time to have a seat the dinner party was in full swing.
Sita, Simon and Sandra were hoovering down the pineapples and Liberty was flicking olives. Camilla, Cara and Paris began slapping slices of ham on each other’s foreheads. Brittany, Billy and Bono began playing frisbee with the macaroons and shoving the parsnips up each other’s noses.
David and Matthew were dancing around in Ugenia’s mother’s clothes. Anoushka began making an extremely marvellous modern punch and popped it in the oven. Then Chantelle and her eight brothers began throwing ice-cream sandwiches at each other and diving off the sofa as they shouted along to Bono’s new headbanging CD.
‘FOOD FIGHT!’ screamed Camilla.
‘Get ’em,’ shouted Chantelle.
‘Take that!’
‘TAKE THIS,’ yelled Max, shoving ice cream in Anoushka’s face.
Suddenly, Ugenia’s house was in chaos – a food war zone. The entire contents of the table was now either splattered across the living room, all over Ugenia’s mother’s best ornaments and lampshades, or shoved in someone’s hair. Billy and Bono swung from the curtains, doing their best ape impressions. Ugenia watched in horror as Chantelle’s brothers swiped her mother’s most precious porcelain ancient-tribal-statue headpiece and threw it across the room. Ugenia screamed as it few through the air and landed on a beanbag, narrowly missing Bronte’s head.
‘Oh, Ugenia, this is getting out of control,’ cried Bronte.
‘Oh, Rudy, what are we gonna do?’ cried Ugenia.
‘Trevor, help! Do something!’ screamed Rudy.
‘STOP IT RIGHT NOW!’ shouted Trevor in a very loud, deep, scary voice as he turned off the headbanging music. Everyone froze in amazement and slowly put down whatever it was they were about to throw.
‘AND GET OUT NOW!’ said Trevor firmly, who suddenly looked older than nine, with his arms firmly crossing his chest like he was a bouncer standing outside a nightclub.
Slowly, Sita, Simon, Sandra, Max, Henry, Darcy, Camilla, Cara, Paris, Brittany, Billy, Bono, David, Matthew, Anoushka, Liberty, Chantelle and her eight brothers all brushed themselves off and left the Lavender house with their heads hanging in shame.
‘Well, that certainly told them, didn’t it?’ beamed Rudy.
‘Trevor, you were wonderful! Thank you,’ smiled Ugenia.
‘Very nice,’ said Bronte.
‘Er . . . no problem’ said Trevor, and suddenly the telephone rang.
‘Er, hello?’ said Ugenia.
‘Hello, darling, it’s Mum. Is everything OK?’ said Pandora.
‘Yes, fine!’ Ugenia squirmed as she stared at the food explosion in the living room.
‘Everything is under control, just relax, get better, don’t worry about a thing,’ she said as she began to smell something very odd coming from the kitchen. Suddenly there was an almighty bang from the oven.
‘Anoushka’s extremely marvellous modern punch!’ gasped Ugenia.
‘What was that?’ asked her mum.
‘Er, nothing,’ said Ugenia as she stared into the kitchen, which was splattered in tarberry juice. ‘It’s probably just Uncle Harry working on some new recipe! Mum, I’ve got to go, he needs me, mustn’t keep him waiting, get well soon.’
‘Phew, that was a close one,’ Rudy sighed as Ugenia slammed down the phone.
‘Rudy, this house is such a wreck,’ said Ugenia. ‘What am I going to do?’ But before they had time to make another plan, the front doorbell rang. It was Ugenia’s Granny Betty.
Granny Betty wandered into the living room and gasped, ‘Mother dear goodness, you’ve been burgled! The vandals! We must call the police, you poor children!’
And before Ugenia could explain, Granny Betty was dialling 999. As quick as you could say, ‘Oh, what a disaster,’ the sound of the familiar sirens came gushing into Cromer Road and a very large white van appeared. A surge of police in full combat gear came running into Ugenia’s living room.
‘Well, officers, quite frankly you’re too late, you should be ashamed of yourselves,’ snapped Granny Betty. ‘Where were you when these poor defenceless children needed your help? I think the best thing you can do is clean up.’
Granny Betty handed the officers mops and buckets, dishcloths and a vacuum cleaner.
‘Er, sorry, ma’am, yes of course,’ they said in unison.
The twelve police officers meekly went down on their hands and knees and got straight to work, polishing the ornaments and hoovering the carpet. Ugenia decided the best thing to do was to put the kettle on and pretend it was all going to be OK (after all, wasn’t that what grown-ups did? Right?).
‘Many hands make light work!’ giggled Granny Betty, who offered everyone some Christmas cake (even though it definitely was not Christmas).
An hour later, the house was back in perfect, sparkling shape. The twelve policemen, Rudy, Trevor and Bronte said their goodbyes and went home.
Ugenia looked at Granny. ‘Gran, being a grown-up is hard work,’ she announced, suddenly beginning to feel exhausted.
‘Tell me about it!’ smiled Granny Betty.
Then, suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was Uncle Harry. ‘I can’t work with those incredible imbeciles. I decided not to go,’ he shouted. ‘I’m taking some time off. Shall I make us some incredible salmon soufflés with broccoli, and pineapple fritters for afters?’
‘Great!’ smiled Ugenia, who was delighted that a real grown-up was back (Granny Betty didn’t really count, even if she was 101).
Suddenly, the front doorbell rang again. This time it was Doctor Clooney, followed by Pandora and Edward Lavender bandaged up and on crutches.
‘Surprise!’ said Ugenia’s mother. ‘We couldn’t stand the thought of you all by yourself with just Uncle Harry, so we thought we’d come and recover with you in the comfort of our own lovely home.’
Ugenia threw her arms around her mum and dad and gave them a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘Now, Ugenia,
was everything all right?’ asked Professor Lavender, hobbling around.
‘The house looks very clean,’ smiled Pandora. ‘You’ve been cleaning up. Thank you, you’ve really shown us what a thoughtful, responsible, grown up young lady you really are!’
Then, suddenly, Ugenia’s mother seemed to notice something out of the corner of her eye. It was her most precious porcelain ancient-tribal-statue headpiece.
‘Ugenia, just one question, what on earth is a parsnip doing shoved up my porcelain statue’s nose?’ she cried.
‘Er . . . it likes parsnips?’ smiled Ugenia.
Ugenia Lavender Home Alone Page 5
