by Sue Limb
‘The thing is,’ said Yasmin’s mum, ‘we’ve got to be a liddle bit careful. Your safety is the most important thing. You’d be washing cars for strangers.’
‘We could ask the neighbours first,’ said Yasmin. ‘We could wash their cars. We’d be safe with them.’
‘Great idea!’ I said. ‘Let’s start right away!’
But sadly, it was time to go home. I had to leave early because Yasmin had a dentist’s appointment. Yasmin’s mum dropped me off on the way. As I got out of the car, she said, ‘Now, Ruby, make sure you parents know about this car-washing idea, OK?’
I nodded, but I wasn’t looking forward to mentioning it. I had a feeling that Mum and Dad would think of all sorts of stupid objections.
Chapter 8
I don’t like the sound of her
‘You’re late!’ said Mum when I got in. She was chopping up some onions and her eyes were streaming. I could tell by her face that she had had a horrid day.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ I said. ‘Did you have any nice babies today?’
‘We had a bit of a crisis,’ said Mum. ‘It was all right in the end, but I’m shattered. Go and tidy your room,’ she snapped. ‘It’s a disgrace!’
I went upstairs. As usual I was depressed by my room. I hate the wallpaper, which is really babyish. There are places where I scribbled on the walls when I was young. So embarrassing. And there’s always a terrible mess. The floor was covered with toys and clothes. I scooped them all up into a couple of carrier bags and hid them in the wardrobe.
Mum had put Stinker’s head back on last night, but now he was lying face down on the floor. Funky was lying with his face in Stinker’s bottom. How awful for them. I know monkeys aren’t quite as civilised as us, but they do have some standards.
I felt so guilty, I decided to organise a gangsters’ banquet for them. I made a kind of shady verandah out of my sock drawer by turning it on its side. Just the sort of place gangsters might hang out on a hot evening. The socks had to be tipped out all over the floor, but never mind.
I sat Stinker and Funky down on the verandah and laid a picnic for them with a dolls’ tea set. Halfway through the meal, though, Stinker collapsed.
‘The lasagne!’ he gasped. ‘It was-a poisoned! Big Al wuz behind dis! Sack da caterers! And ring for da ambulance!’
Then suddenly Mum came bursting in and the whole room shook, and the drawer fell over, trapping the monkeys and ruining their poisoned banquet.
‘I told you to tidy your room!’ said Mum in a horrid snarly voice.
‘I did!’ I protested.
‘Well, look at it!’ said Mum, pointing at the socks and tea cups scattered everywhere, and the upturned drawer.
‘I did tidy it up, honestly,’ I said. ‘This is just a new mess.’
Then Mum went bananas. In fact, I think I’d better draw a veil over the rest of that scene. I didn’t mention my plan to wash cars. It wasn’t the moment.
It was spaghetti bolognese for supper. Joe wolfed his down as usual. He didn’t look at me. He’d been blanking me since I trashed his boat-bird installation art model thingy.
‘A glamorous girl was asking after you today,’ I said to Joe. He looked up, blushed, and scowled.
‘What?’ he said. ‘Who?’
‘Holly Helvellyn,’ I said. ‘Known as The Hellcat.’
‘Never heard of her,’ said Joe, and went back to his spaghetti.
‘I don’t like the sound of her,’ said Mum. ‘Holly what? She sounds like a bit of A One.’
‘She’s sooo nice,’ I said. ‘A bit gothic, that’s all. You know who she is, Joe. The one with black hair and red lips and all those piercings.’ Joe ignored me.
‘Pass the sauce, please,’ said Dad.
‘I’ve made a blinking sauce, Brian!’ snapped Mum. ‘It’s an insult to put extra sauce on it.’
‘What’s for pudding?’ growled Joe.
‘There isn’t a pudding,’ said Mum menacingly. Quite gangsterishly, in fact.
It was so not the moment to ask about the car washing. Dad and Joe finished their dinner as fast as possible.
‘OK. How about a driving lesson, then?’ Dad asked Joe. ‘As I’ve mysteriously lost the will to live, let’s go now.’ Joe leapt up eagerly.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I want to practise those three-point turns.’ Seconds later, they were gone. Mum sighed.
‘Relax, Mum,’ I went on. ‘I’ll load the dishwasher. You go and sit down.’
‘Thanks, love,’ said Mum, and patted me on the head. ‘I’ve got to admit it, I’m tired out.’ She got up stiffly and strolled off to the sitting room. I heard her switch on the TV.
When I’d finished loading the dishwasher and wiped down the table, I went into the sitting room. Mum was asleep on the sofa. She stirred in her sleep, smacked her lips and muttered something that sounded like, ‘No thanks, I’ll go in the next one.’
‘Mum?’ I said.
‘Hhhhrrrrrrph?’ said Mum.
‘Is it OK if Yasmin and I wash people’s cars for money?’
‘Mmmmmmnargh,’ sighed Mum, and settled back into sleep.
I decided to take that as a YES.
Chapter 9
It’s all your fault!
The next day my mum dropped me off again at Yasmin’s house. Yasmin’s mum was wearing a floaty dark green tunic with wide floppy trousers.
‘My mum said it was OK for me to wash cars!’ I said right away.
‘Fine,’ said Yasmin’s mum. ‘Yasmin’s share is going to help the children in Africa.’
Uh-oh! If Yasmin was helping children in Africa, but I was collecting money for myself, it made me feel as if I was horrid and selfish. I was really sorry for the children in Africa, but I so wanted my tree house.
‘I’ve got to go and work upstairs for a liddle while,’ said Yasmin’s mum. ‘Why don’t you start with Mrs Fisher opposite?’ Yasmin’s mum gave us buckets of soapy water and rags and sponges, and we went out.
‘We clean one car at most,’ growled Yasmin as we went up the neighbours’ path. ‘And then we stop, right? I’m sick of it already.’
Mrs Fisher answered the door, holding a baby and with a toddler clinging to her legs. A great blast of stinky air hit us in the face. The baby’s nappy definitely needed changing. I’m never having babies. Unless the government sends someone round to deal with the poo.
We explained what we were doing and Mrs Fisher looked doubtful.
‘I’m a bit short of cash at the moment,’ she said. ‘I know our car is ever so dirty, but …’
‘Never mind, then,’ said Yasmin. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’ And she backed away, looking relieved.
‘Oh dear, no, Yasmin, I feel so mean,’ said Mrs Fisher. ‘I must help. Those poor African orphans! I hate to think how Jasper and Cleopatra would cope if anything happened to me.’
She disappeared and came back with fifty pence. Fifty pence! What an insult.
‘Thanks very much!’ said Yasmin, trying hard to smile. As soon as Mrs Fisher had gone back indoors, Yasmin lost her temper.
‘Blood and Guts and Dog Muck!’ she said. ‘We’ve got to clean this whole car now for peanuts! I never wanted to wash cars anyway! It was your idea! And I can’t even keep my share! This is the worst day of my life and it’s all your fault!’
She did have a point. I just buttoned my lip and we set to work on Mrs Fisher’s car, which hadn’t been washed for about a year. We needed buckets and buckets of clean water from Yasmin’s house and Yasmin’s mum had to find some clean rags for us because the ones we started out with soon turned totally black.
It took ages, and Yasmin’s mood got worse and worse. She hurt her elbow on the wing mirror and she tipped a bucket of water all over her shoes.
By the time we’d finished Yasmin was totally stressed out. But the car really gleamed. It looked a million times better than the old heap it had been an hour before.
‘Let’s tell her we’ve finished,’ I said. ‘Maybe she�
�ll be so pleased, she’ll give us a bit extra. If she does, you can have it all.’ I thought this was really generous of me, but Yasmin didn’t even say thanks.
When Mrs Fisher answered the door, it was obvious that the baby had just been sick on her shoulder. What is it with babies? Horrible stuff coming out of them all the time! You could almost do a bank robbery using a baby instead of a gun.
‘OK, gimme da money or I fire da baby! From both ends!’
Mrs Fisher kind of glanced at the car. She couldn’t really concentrate properly on anything with the baby screaming in her ear.
‘Brilliant! Well done!’ she said. ‘You can come back and do it again next month. Good luck with it! I hope you get lots of takers!’ Then she went back inside and shut the door in our faces.
‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘We’ve still got twenty-five pence each. That’s not bad.’
‘It wouldn’t even buy a packet of crisps,’ said Yasmin grimly.
‘So, where next?’ I said, looking around. ‘There’s a dirty car over there.’
‘Lunch next,’ said Yasmin firmly. ‘I am never going to clean a car again in my entire life.’ My heart sank. It seemed as if the tree house fund was a complete failure.
Chapter 10
You look like a film star!
I didn’t mind stopping really. To be honest, I was tired and hungry myself. As we went back to Yasmin’s house, we met Zerrin and Holly coming back from work.
‘We’ve been washing cars,’ I said. ‘We’ve earned fifty pence.’
‘Wow! Good work!’ said Holly. She made it sound like a triumph instead of a disaster.
Jacket potatoes were on the menu, with a lovely banana and coconut pudding. Yasmin’s mum finished her lunch quickly and went back upstairs to finish off her work project.
‘So, how’s the charismatic Mr Rogers?’ asked Holly, looking at me with twinkling eyes. I was puzzled. Why was she asking about my dad? And what did ‘charismatic’ mean?
‘What’s “charismatic”?’ asked Yasmin.
‘Oh, you know – attractive and glamorous and stuff,’ said Holly. ‘But kind of quiet and mysterious as well.’
‘Joe’s a bit of a legend in our year group,’ said Zerrin.
Oh! It was Joe they were asking about, not Dad. Thank goodness we’d cleared that up. I could easily have said something really silly.
‘I didn’t see much of Joe yesterday,’ I told her. ‘He went out for a driving lesson right after supper, and when he came back he shut himself in his room. I expect he was busy with his sculpture thingies.’
‘He’s having driving lessons?’ Holly’s eyes lit up.
‘I can see him collecting you in a sports car, Hol!’ said Zerrin, laughing.
‘Yeah!’ said Holly, flashing her eyes. ‘A coupe or whatever they’re called. A primrose-yellow Porsche.’
‘Joe’s never going to have a car of his own,’ I said. ‘We couldn’t even afford a primrose-yellow primrose.’
‘What driving school is your brother with?’ asked Holly.
‘Oh, he’s not with a driving school at all,’ I said. ‘Dad’s teaching him for nothing.’
‘My God! Lucky guy!’ said Holly.
‘Who do you mean? Joe or his dad?’ said Zerrin with a teasing look at Holly. The way Zerrin and Holly behaved, it was obvious that Holly’s crush on my brother was worse than I’d thought. It must be like … some sort of sickness.
‘My dad’s refused point blank to go in the car with my bro Tom,’ said Holly. ‘Tom’s already failed twice. We’re high achievers, us Helvellyns.’
‘My dad panics all the time about everything,’ I said. ‘It must be a nightmare being taught to drive by him. But Joe doesn’t seem to mind.’
‘I’d love to swap lives with you, Ruby!’ said Holly with a witchy wink. ‘Just for twenty-four hours. Just for a laugh.’
‘Why?’ I asked. Holly pulled a funny not-going-to-tell face.
‘Can’t you guess?’ said Zerrin. ‘It’s because you live in the same house as the charismatic Joe!’ She fluttered her eyelashes at Holly, and they both laughed.
‘Tell you what, Ruby,’ said Holly with a playful glint in her eye. ‘You couldn’t do me a small favour, could you? You couldn’t steal a little something from Joe’s room for me?’
‘Steal something? Like what?’ I asked.
‘Like a pillowcase his head has rested on or something,’ said Zerrin. ‘I’m sure Holly would pay good money for a souvenir like that!’ They both went off into fits of giggles.
I made plans to steal one of his pencils and sell it to the highest bidder. Hmmmm … Nice thought. Although I was a bit wary about going anywhere near my brother’s room right now. He was still ignoring me since the horrible way I’d trashed his bird-boat.
Yasmin refused point-blank to do any more car-washing, so to keep her sweet I pretended to be a press photographer all afternoon, doing lots of fashion shoots with her. Then I pretended to be a TV interviewer asking her about her latest collection of swimwear and leisure outfits, even though fashion bores me so much I felt like screaming aloud. It was such a relief when it was time for The Simpsons.
Mrs Saffet couldn’t give me a lift home because her car was having its MOT, so when Holly got back from work, she offered to see me to the bus stop. It was on her way anyway.
‘So, what sort of day have you had?’ she asked. ‘How’s the tree house fund?’
‘Useless,’ I said. ‘I’ve only got twenty-five pence, and Yasmin won’t wash cars any more so that’s it really.’
‘You don’t have to wash cars,’ said Holly. ‘You could do loads of other stuff to make money. Run errands for people, do paintings on the pavement, or face paintings … walk dogs … babysitting?’
‘I can’t do babysitting,’ I said. ‘I’m not old enough. In the eyes of the law I’m still a stinking baby myself.’ Holly roared with laughter.
‘You’re priceless, Ruby,’ she said. ‘How old are you anyway?’
‘Twenty-eight,’ I said. Holly laughed again. She’s easily amused – one of the reasons I like her so much.
‘Wow, look at that!’ said Holly suddenly. We were passing a charity shop, and in the window was a black hat with a veil. ‘We’ve got to go in!’ Holly pulled me along with her.
While she tried on the hat, I looked around. Suddenly my heart gave a huge leap. There, grinning at me from a cardboard box, was the most marvellous monkey! He was wearing a baseball cap and carrying a tennis racket. His eyes were little black shiny beads. I picked him up and cuddled him. He smelt nice. How could anybody ever have parted with him?
‘How’s my hat?’ said Holly.
‘You look like a film star!’ I said.
‘What an adorable monkey!’ said Holly.
‘I collect monkeys,’ I said. ‘But I can’t afford him.’
‘I’ll buy him for you!’ said Holly. ‘He’s divine! We can call him Hewitt!’
I watched, amazed, as Holly the Hellcat, the coolest person in town, bought me a monkey!
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Thanks so much! If there’s anything I can ever do to make it up to you …’
‘You’re already going to do something,’ said Holly as we walked out of the shop, arm in arm. She was wearing her film-star hat and I was clutching Hewitt. It was one of the most exciting moments of my life. ‘You’re going to do something amazing and brave for me, aren’t you, Ruby?’
For a moment I wondered what she was talking about. She leant in close and whispered in my ear: ‘You’re going to nick something from Joe’s room for me, remember? Just for a joke. I want it tomorrow morning at twelve thirty sharp when I get in for lunch at Zerrin’s!’ And she laughed as if it was the best joke ever.
But the whole idea filled me with a horrid sick feeling, as if something awful was bound to happen.
Chapter 11
What amazing stuff!
When I got home, Mum was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea. Joe was also there, r
eading a comic and drinking a cappuccino. Uncle Tristram gave us an Italian coffee maker last Christmas. Mum prefers tea, Dad nearly broke it and had a panic attack, but Joe uses it all the time.
There was a faint smell of curry. Great! I love curry. I’m going to go to India when I grow up and try all the different sorts.
‘Have you made a curry, Mum?’ I said, kissing her.
‘No,’ said Mum. ‘The good news is, somebody else made it. It’s a ready meal. All I have to do is make the cucumber raita.’
‘Did you have any nice babies today?’ I asked.
‘I had twins today,’ said Mum, pouring another cup of tea. ‘They looked a bit froggy actually.’
‘Woman Gives Birth to Toads,’ said Joe in his newspaper headline voice. ‘Father Says, “There may be half a million of them but we love them all equally.”’
‘Do you love us equally, Mum?’ I asked.
‘Of course she doesn’t,’ said Joe, getting up. ‘I’m the glamorous firstborn, loser!’ And he hit me over the head with his comic as he walked off. I was quite pleased really. It didn’t hurt, and it seemed he’d forgiven me for trashing his model. But would he ever forgive me for what I was planning to do now? Steal something! Would I have the guts to do it?
‘What’s that monkey?’ asked Mum. ‘Is it one of Yasmin’s?’
‘No, Holly bought it for me in the charity shop on the way home,’ I said.
Mum frowned. ‘Who’s Holly again?’ she asked.
‘She’s a friend of Zerrin’s. She’s amazing. She wears black and she has this Gothic make-up and she’s got a nose ring and a eyebrow ring,’ I said.
Mum pulled a face. ‘I remember. I don’t like the sound of her,’ she said.
‘Oh, but she’s lovely, Mum! She saw me to the bus stop because Mrs Saffet’s car was having its MOT.’
Mum still looked rather stern and shook her head disapprovingly.
‘I don’t like it when young girls disfigure their lovely faces with all those horrible piercings,’ she said. ‘You’d better not even think about it when you’re a teenager, Ruby.’ And she got up and started chopping a cucumber. ‘Go and tidy your room,’ she went on. ‘It’s worse than ever today.’
