Becky's Problem Pet

by Holly Webb

  Chapter Nine

  Annabel thought that the whole situation with David was simple now. She just had to tell Becky what he’d said, Becky would go and talk to him in an “I like you too, please ask me out” kind of way, he would, and everything would be sorted.

  She’d reckoned without Becky. Admittedly her sister’s first reaction was all she could have hoped for – Becky was practically fainting with excitement, and squeaking disjointed things like, “Are you sure?” and “Did he really—?” and “It’s so exciting!” But she didn’t carry on to the obvious next step – what do we do now? When Saima asked that very question, Becky just looked blank.

  Annabel stared at her, gimlet-eyed. “You are going to talk to him, aren’t you?” she asked, her tone of voice strongly suggesting that the answer no would get Becky disembowelled with a compass.

  “You can’t just not do anything!” Saima assured Becky, in a shocked way. “That would be awful.”

  “It would be cruel,” Annabel declared firmly. “Like torturing a dog – I can see why you compared him to an Old English Sheepdog, Becky, he’s got puppydog eyes.”

  Becky hung her head. Annabel’s force of character had carried her through to this point, and now she didn’t know what to do. She realized that her misgivings about the whole plan had been right all along. It was unfair to have let Annabel get David’s hopes up, if she wasn’t going to follow through. She looked sideways under her lashes at Katie, who’d been silent up till now, hoping for some back-up. But Katie was standing with her arms folded, glaring at her. In fact, she and Annabel were like cross china dogs at either end of a mantelpiece – except that she didn’t think that their glares meant the same thing at all. Katie clearly thought the whole thing was mad, and wanted her to stop it now.

  “I need to think about it,” said Becky, conjuring a firm voice from somewhere she hadn’t known she’d got. “Honestly, Bel. Maybe I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” And luckily, the bell rang just then, and Becky could escape back into school. . .

  She held out for the rest of the day, despite Annabel’s battery of looks, which ranged from pleading to full-on threatening, and practically everything in between. She also had to avoid looking at David, which was more difficult.

  In fact, the only thing she could do was focus on her “save the rats” campaign, which was clearly getting more urgent. At lunch, she and Fran held a council of war.

  “Do you think he is going to sell One and Two?” asked Fran, nibbling on a chip in very rat-like fashion.

  “Definitely,” said Becky. “They’re no use any more, are they? We can’t let it happen.”

  Fran went on to her chocolate pudding, and consumed a few mouthfuls, quietly. Then suddenly she looked up in excitement, as though the sugar had kicked in and sent some energy to her brain. “Look, Becky, if all Jack wants is money, why don’t we just give it to him?”

  It only took Becky a few seconds to see what she meant. “You mean, buy his rats? Fran, that’s a brilliant idea! I mean, I bet I can offer him more than the exotic pet shop would, and I could buy his cage as well – they wouldn’t want that. You star!” She beamed delightedly at her friend, and wondered how she could have been so stupid – it was the obvious answer.

  Becky was desperate to get home that afternoon to talk to Mum about the rats. Katie and Megan were playing in a football match after school, so Becky and Fran walked home with Annabel and Saima, both of whom spent the entire walk looking sorrowfully at Becky, and sighing exasperatedly at every mention of rats. They clearly couldn’t believe that Becky wasn’t analysing every second of the conversation with David, and planning her next move with precision. And Annabel was fairly disgusted at the idea of Jack’s rats actually becoming part of her household.

  “Becky! Haven’t you got enough animals? Four guinea pigs and two cats? Do you think Mum’s going to let you?”

  Becky grimaced. “I don’t know. I hope so. I mean, when I tell her what’ll happen to them otherwise, I think she will. We’ll have to see.”

  “Can’t we talk about what’s happening with David for a bit now?” pleaded Annabel. “I can’t believe you’re just ignoring it!”

  “I’m not ignoring it,” snapped Becky crossly, sick of being pressured. “I’m thinking about it, that’s all. You’ll just have to wait. I’ve got more important things to worry about anyway.”

  Annabel gaped. “Those rats? More important. . .” She tailed off, speechless, and spent the rest of the walk home stalking ahead with Saima, muttering evilly.

  The triplets’ mum had finished work for the day and was starting to make their tea for when Katie got back. She’d put out a plate of biscuits for Becky and Annabel in the meantime.

  Becky and Fran had been trying to work out a mother-persuading strategy on the way home, while desperately trying to ignore Annabel and Saima, but the problem was time. Becky was fairly sure she could have got her mum to agree to rats for Christmas (she’d already got her started thinking about the idea), but that would have been a slow-build campaign – and now this had to become an all-out assault, and it wasn’t Becky’s normal way of doing things. Still, she did have the advantage of her mum’s soft heart, and the terrible fate that awaited One and Two if she didn’t rescue them. Fran was annoyed that she couldn’t try and buy them herself – Becky wouldn’t have minded, it had been Fran’s idea, and she’d still get to play with them – but she was sure her dad was a harder sell, especially when he was feeling anti-pet anyway.

  Annabel sat down at the table and took a biscuit. She bit into it savagely, and scowled at Becky. Becky just sighed. It was clear that there was no use expecting any help from her – though considering Annabel’s feelings about rats, that would have been pretty optimistic anyway,

  “Mum?”

  “Yes, darling?” Mrs Ryan looked round from the chicken stew she was making. It was looking very watery, and she was wondering if she’d misread the recipe.

  “There’s a boy at school, Jack, he came to our party, do you remember?”

  Her mother looked doubtful. “Maybe. . .”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, but it was his house we went to on Wednesday, to see his pet rats.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Only they aren’t really pets. . . Are you listening?” Becky added suspiciously. Mum looked very preoccupied with dinner.

  “Yes, sorry, love, I was just thinking we might have to eat this out of bowls. Go on, keep talking.” And Mrs Ryan put a lid on the pan, and came to sit next to Annabel, opposite Becky.

  “He was wanting to breed them – to sell to the exotic pet shop in Stallford as snake food!” Becky said the last part of this in an impressive hiss, hoping to make her mother see what an awful idea it was.

  Mrs Ryan grimaced. “Oh dear.”

  Oh dear? Was that it? Becky glared at her mother for a moment, and then realized that getting cross was not going to help.

  “But his plan isn’t going to work, because actually he got tricked by the boy who sold him the rats, and they aren’t a pair, they’re both girls. So now he’s getting impatient ’cause they haven’t had babies, and I think he’s going to sell the two he’s got to the pet shop anyway. They’re going to get eaten, Mum!”

  Mrs Ryan was looking as though she could see that was not good, but she wasn’t making the vital leap that Becky needed. She was going to have to spell it out.

  “So I was thinking, could I buy his rats off him? I’ve got enough money, I think.” Becky looked hopefully at her mother.

  Mrs Ryan seemed doubtful. “Oh, Becky, are you sure? I mean, you’ve got so many pets to look after already. The time—”

  “But you were going to think about me having them for Christmas, weren’t you? This is just earlier, that’s all. And those rats are going to die, Mum!”

  “Well, I suppose so. I’m just worried how they’re going to fit in the shed –
it’s quite full of guinea pigs.”

  “The shed?” Becky looked blank. “Oh, Mum, no, the rats couldn’t live in the shed. They’re used to living in a house – it’d be too cold for them out there. They’re indoor pets. They’re going to live on the big window sill in our bedroom.”

  At this, Annabel, who’d been nibbling her way through the biscuits, wishing Becky would concentrate on the much more important issue of David, and only half-listening, sat bolt upright. “What?” she squeaked in horror. “You mean they’re going to be in the house!”

  “Well, yes. of course they are!”

  “No way,” squawked Annabel, at the same time as her mother said, “Oh Becky, I’m not sure. . .” Annabel won on volume and continued, “You can’t put rats in our bedroom! That’s disgusting! I’m not sleeping with those horrible things and that’s final!”

  “It’s not up to you!” Becky snapped back angrily. Wanting to defend the rats had fired her up – normally she hated arguments – but her mother stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, Becky, but it’s Bel’s room too – and she really doesn’t like rats. It’s not fair to make her live in the same room with them, you have to see that. I’m really sorry, I know you want to help the rats, but I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”

  Becky was gobsmacked. It had all been sorted – and now it wasn’t! How could Bel be so selfish? She shoved her chair back from the table and raced outside to the shed, already feeling tears at the back of her eyes.

  Mrs Ryan sighed, and Annabel was left feeling defiant, and somehow a teensy bit guilty. This was so unfair! Becky couldn’t expect her to share a room with nasty clawed biting things – Orlando was bad enough, but at least he always slept on Becky’s bed. Rats would make the whole room smell horrible.

  She didn’t like upsetting Becky, though – she and Katie bossed Becky around, but they always stood up for her as well. Annabel went upstairs to brood, and looked round at their room, beautifully ratless. She shuddered.

  Becky still hadn’t come out by the time Katie got home from her match, and Annabel wasted no time telling her other triplet about Becky’s plan.

  “In our room! Can you believe it? It would be awful!”

  Katie shrugged, and nearly fell over, as she was changing into her jeans. “I don’t think it would be that bad – they were quite sweet really, Bel.”

  “Not you too!” Annabel wailed. “They smell!”

  “I think that’s only if you don’t clean them out properly. The guinea pigs don’t smell, do they? And Jack’s room didn’t smell – much. Becky would keep them spotless anyway.”

  Annabel still looked mutinous, and Katie shrugged again. “I’m going to talk to her. Mum wants me to get her to come in for tea.”

  Meanwhile Becky was curled in her favourite shed corner again, not even holding one of the guinea pigs. She felt like everything was about to fall on her head. The rats weren’t going to be saved after all. She supposed Annabel wasn’t just being unreasonable, she really did find them creepy. It was probably something she’d inherited from Dad, Becky thought bitterly. His reply to her excited email about rats had been very disappointing. He definitely wasn’t a rat fan – apparently he just couldn’t get over their “horrible bald pink tails”. He wasn’t trying to say she shouldn’t have any, just that he wouldn’t be playing with them.

  The worst thing, though, was that she knew that Annabel and Saima were right – she had to make a decision about David soon, probably this evening. She realized sadly that she’d been focusing on the rats because it seemed like it was something fairly straightforward that she could solve – the thing with David was really complicated. Two tears dripped down her nose as she tried to work out what she wanted to do. She liked him so much – but did she want him to ask her out? What if it went all strange and embarrassing, and they couldn’t even be friends any more? More tears joined the stream as she decided that they’d got past that stage already. If she didn’t go and see him tomorrow about what he’d said to Annabel, he’d probably never talk to her again.

  It was at that point that Katie arrived.

  “Oh, Becky.” She came and sat down next to her. “Look, maybe somebody else can buy Jack’s rats. We’ll sort it somehow.”

  “It’s not just that,” Becky sniffed. “David, as well.”

  Katie sighed. “Well, it’s no use asking me. You’ve got to do that on your own.”

  A bigger sniff, then Becky whispered, “I do really like him. I’d hate it if we never hung around together.”

  “Then you’ll have to go and talk to him tomorrow.” Katie paused. And then she grinned. “Becky! I think I might just have solved your other problem too!”

  “What?”

  “What does Bel want most of all right now?”

  “No rats,” said Becky sadly.

  “More than no rats!”

  “Me to go and talk to David – oh!”

  “Exactly. If you tell her that you’re going to go and be nice to him so he’ll ask you out, and that you want her to give you loads of advice, and do your hair and everything, then I reckon you might just be able to get her to live with the rats. . .”

  Chapter Ten

  Becky and Katie walked slowly up the garden path, planning. Their tea was on the table (Mrs Ryan had managed to solidify the stew a bit, so it was on plates), and Annabel was sitting waiting, looking mutinous. She was obviously expecting another argument from Becky, because she scowled at her when they came in. She was feeling guilty – she might hate the rats, but she didn’t want to be responsible for getting them killed. But Becky managed a very small smile at her, which left Annabel feeling deeply confused, and even more guilty. Tea was a very silent meal, until halfway through the phone rang and Mrs Ryan got up to answer it – the triplets realized it was one of Mrs Ryan’s friends, obviously wanting to settle in for a good long chat. Katie nudged Becky – this was the ideal time!

  Becky put down her knife and fork, very carefully and neatly, licked her lips, and said, “Bel?”

  Annabel’s scowl returned – so Becky had just been waiting for Mum to go? Fine. She prepared for battle.

  “I think you’re right.”

  Annabel, who had had her mouth open to respond with a denunciation of all rodents, opened and shut it like a goldfish, then managed, “What?”

  “About David. I’m going to do what you and Saima said, tomorrow. I’m going to go and talk to him.” She noted Annabel’s delighted face, and looked at Katie for further inspiration.

  Katie put her head on one side, as though she’d just had an interesting idea. “You know, Bel, if Becky’s going to do what you want about David, maybe you ought to be more helpful about the rats?” she asked innocently.

  Annabel returned to her goldfish look. Which was she more worried about – rats, or organizing her sister’s love-life? The problem was, she just knew that if she left sorting things with David to Becky, she’d do it all wrong. She really needed Annabel’s help, and it would be torture to watch it all go pear-shaped. . . How bad could rats really be?

  “Maybe. . .” she muttered cautiously.

  Becky leaped up from her chair and threw her arms round her sister. “Bel, you star! That’s so nice of you!”

  “I only said maybe!” Annabel answered in a strangulated yelp. “There’s going to be conditions! Like . . . like if they start to smell they go straight to the snake shop! And you have to warn me when you’re letting them out, so I can be somewhere else. Yes?”

  “Definitely!” Becky nodded vigorously.

  “Hmmm. Well, you have to give me some time to think of any more, OK?”

  When Mrs Ryan came back into the room the atmosphere had got about ten degrees warmer, and Becky and Katie were giggling at something Annabel was drawing. She peered over at it – it appeared to be a plan of their bedroom.

  “That
” – Annabel stabbed with her red pen – “is the No Rat Zone, got it?”

  “Mum!” squeaked Becky happily. “Bel’s changed her mind! I can have the rats, if they never go anywhere near her stuff – it’s excellent!”

  “If I find one tiny little rat poo anywhere inside that red line. . .” Annabel warned.

  “If I find one rat poo anywhere, full stop,” agreed their mother.

  “Rats are really clean,” Becky assured them. “Honestly. You can even toilet train them. And I’ll clean up if they have accidents, don’t worry. They’re going to have the most spotless, yummy-smelling cage you’ve ever seen. Oh, Mum, talking of cages, can I have a really good rat cage for Christmas? I can show you the kind I mean – I’ve got pictures from the net. Probably Mr Davies could order us one. Jack’s just isn’t big enough. And, um . . . can I have an advance on my pocket money to pay Jack?”

  Mum sighed. “I suppose so. Sometimes I do wonder if it wouldn’t be simpler to move to the zoo. And your dad’s not going to be happy. He sent me a very panicky email about rats last week. Oh, don’t look so worried, Becky – you’ll just have to keep them out of his way.”

  Annabel suddenly looked up from her drawing. “Mum, can we have some people over on Saturday? If we invite Jack, he can bring the rats over, and Becky can show them to everyone.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so.” Mum looked confused, Annabel seemed to have had a really remarkable change of heart.

  She missed Annabel’s wink as she said, “You can invite your friend David, Becky. . .”

  After tea, the triplets went to do their homework. Annabel sat on the stairs (she swore it made it easier to think) and completed hers in record time. Then she raced up to their room, where Becky and Katie were working at the table. “Oh, come on, you must have finished!”

  “No.” Becky shook her head sadly. “I just can’t get my head round this maths Mr Jones set us – all these angles and things.” She gazed disgustedly at her maths exercise book. “And why am I ever going to want to know what the cosine of C is anyway? I don’t mind maths when it’s useful.”