“Come on, Dad,” Iggy said. “I’ve got presents.”
Dad sat up. “Ooh,” he said in his best little girl voice. “I love presents.”
Iggy made sure we were all looking and then she started to unwrap her present s-l-o-w-l-y, peeling off the sticky tape and smoothing out the creases in the paper.
“Can I have another nap while you do that?” said Dad.
“Sssh!” said Iggy. “No!”
Iggy liked her pencil case. She gave me a big hug and a kiss, and we were a bit bouncy again. Dad spilled his coffee.
“Oops,” Iggy said, smiling at him. “Sorry.”
After her pencil case, Iggy concentrated on her breathing and didn’t say anything.
“What’s up?” Mum said.
“Nothing,” said Iggy. “I’m trying not to open another present until after breakfast.”
“OK,” said Mum.
“Can we have breakfast now?” said Iggy.
Iggy’s birthday breakfast was hot chocolate and little pancakes with banana and syrup. We ate it while the sun was coming up. The light through the kitchen window was all pink.
“When’s my party?” Iggy said with a mouth full of pancake.
“It’s after lunch,” Mum said.
“What?” Iggy said. She looked horrified. “That’s ages! Can we have lunch now?”
“You’re still eating your breakfast, silly,” said Mum. “Why don’t you open another present?”
Iggy opened her whole pile of presents at the table. She got a jigsaw puzzle map of the world, a dress to wear to her party, a first-aid kit for her toy hospital, a book token for £10 and a game of Scrabble.
“Thank you,” said Iggy, and “Wow!” and “Cool!” and “I’ve always wanted one of those.”
When Mum and Dad got up to clear the table, Iggy and Me went upstairs to do her puzzle and bandage her teddies and try on her dress and look at her book token and play Scrabble, all at the same time. It didn’t feel like very long at all before Mum called us to say that lunch was ready.
She and Dad had been hard at work. Downstairs looked like a party was about to happen. The table had a cloth on it, and there were red paper plates and purple paper cups and party hats and streamers and balloons everywhere.
“How did you do that?” Iggy said, her eyes all over the place.
While we ate lunch we could see the sandwiches for the party, and the crisps and grapes and strawberries and sausage rolls and little cakes. We weren’t allowed to touch those.
“Everyone will be here in an hour,” said Mum.
Just then the doorbell rang.
“Somebody’s here now,” I said, and Mum and Dad smiled.
Iggy jumped up to open the door. It was Granny and Grandpa. Granny was at the door and Grandpa was getting something out of the back of their car.
“Happy birthday!” said Granny, and she gave Iggy a big hug.
“Thank you,” said Iggy, with her eyes on Grandpa. “What you doing?” she said.
“Secret,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
Iggy did, but not for very long. “What have you got?” she said, with one eye open.
“I don’t know,” said Grandpa. “Why don’t you come outside and see?”
We all went out to the car, Iggy, Mum, Dad, Granny and me. Grandpa had got the thing out and put it on the pavement. It was big and covered in a bin bag. I guessed what it was straightaway.
“Is it for me?” Iggy said.
“Yes,” Mum said. “Have a look.”
Iggy lifted a bit of the bin bag and had a peep. “Ooooh!” she said, like all the air was coming out of her at once, and she ripped the bin bag off in a big hurry.
It was a bike. A blue and pink and yellow and silver bike, with tassels on the handlebars and a bell and a special seat for teddies at the back.
“Ooooh!” Iggy said again, just staring and staring. She covered her eyes with her hands and then she looked again, to make sure it was still there.
“Happy birthday, Iggy!” said Granny and Grandpa.
Iggy and me and Granny and Grandpa went for a bike ride around the block. We walked and Iggy wobbled.
“This is the best birthday ever,” she said.
When we got back, it was only ten minutes until the party started. Iggy and me put on our party hats and waited by the door. Dad tied two balloons to the gate so everyone would know which house to come to.
Iggy was allowed six of her friends from school. Everyone arrived at once. They all brought presents and they all talked at a million miles an hour, like Iggy.
It was brilliant. We played Pass the Parcel and Musical Bumps and Musical Statues and Sleeping Lions. Sleeping Lions is when everybody has to pretend to be asleep, and if you move or make a sound you’re out. The last person to move is the winner. It is Dad’s favourite party game for children.
Iggy won Sleeping Lions. She was the best by far. She didn’t move a muscle or make a peep. One by one her friends got caught moving, or opening their eyes, or saying something. I was out just before Iggy.
“You’re the winner, Iggy,” Dad said.
She didn’t move.
“Iggy,” said Mum, “You’ve won! Come and get your prize.”
Iggy didn’t even open her eyes. Her face was all squished against the carpet and her hands were tucked up under her chest. Suddenly she let out a soft little snore. Iggy was fast asleep.
Mum tried to wake her up, but Iggy stayed asleep. It was no good. Nobody could wake her.
The mums and dads came for Iggy’s friends. They whispered goodbye to Iggy and took their party bags home.
Iggy carried on sleeping.
When everyone had gone and the party was all tidied away, Iggy was still asleep. Dad carried her upstairs with me and mum following behind. He put Iggy to bed in her party dress. She didn’t wake up.
“Happy birthday, Iggy!” we whispered, and Mum turned out the light.
Iggy on wheels
After Iggy’s birthday, a big parcel arrived at the door. It wouldn’t fit through the letterbox because it was too big. It was very exciting.
“What can it be?” Dad said, and Mum said, “Who’s it for?”
Dad read the name on the front and then he frowned. “That’s funny,” he said.
“What?” Iggy and me and Mum said at the same time.
Dad scratched his head and looked at the parcel again. “FLO AND IGGY” he said. “We don’t know anyone with that name, do we?”
I said, “Silly!” and Iggy said, “GIVE IT!”
Dad put the parcel on the kitchen table and we crowded round.
Mum said, “It’s from Kate.”
Kate is our auntie. She is Mum’s sister. She lives in America.
“What’s she sending you stuff for?” Dad said. “It’s not your birthday again, is it, Iggy? It’s not yours now, is it, Flo? Did we forget? Are we terrible parents?”
We started ripping at the brown paper.
“Like wild animals,” Dad said, and he tickled us while we were trying to rip.
Inside the brown paper were two shoeboxes all done up with tape. On top of the shoeboxes was a card with a picture of a granny on a skateboard. She was wearing a flowery skirt and a cardigan and glasses, just like our Granny does. The hedges behind her were all blurred like she was going really fast. It looked funny.
Mum turned the card over. It said,
Dear Flo and Igs,
I saw these in a sale and I thought of you. Don’t let Mum and Dad borrow them.
Kate xxx
Mum got the scissors and cut the tape for us.
We opened our boxes. Inside were shoes. Black and pink trainers with big pink laces.
“Cool!” Iggy said.
I took a trainer out of the box. “Why are they so heavy?” I said, and I turned the shoe over in my hands to see what it was made of.
Mum’s mouth dropped open and Dad put his hands over his eyes. I laughed. The trainers had wheels in the bottom.
/> “COOL!” said Iggy.
Iggy and me kicked our ordinary shoes off right there and left them where they fell, even though Dad is always telling us not to do that. He says that his worst thing to do at night is trip over girls’ shoes in the dark. He looks at Mum and says, “I am talking to you too.”
We put on our new black and pink trainers with wheels and we stared at our feet in amazement. They didn’t look like ordinary shoes. They didn’t feel like ordinary shoes either. They had a life of their own. They were more like magic shoes that might take you wherever they wanted, any minute, without you even asking. I have always dreamt of having some of those.
“Wow!” I said.
“Wow!” Iggy said, like an echo.
I felt myself moving. I grabbed hold of Mum so I didn’t roll away. Iggy grabbed hold of Dad.
“Wow!” said Mum and Dad.
The floor in our kitchen is made of big black tiles. Mum says they are very good at not showing the dirt, and Dad says they are very cold when you come down in the morning with no slippers on to make the coffee.
I say that they are very hard when you fall over on your bottom because your shoes have wheels in. Iggy and me fell over on the hard floor a lot. Shoes with wheels in take some getting used to.
After a bit, Mum and Dad stopped letting us hold on to them because they had other things to do.
Mum said, “I’ve got to get some work done.”
Dad said, “I have to make Auntie Kate a thank you card.”
Iggy and me made a route across the kitchen with places to grab on to. We went from the table, to the fridge, to the cupboard with the cereal in it, to the sink.
From the table to the fridge was the longest. That’s where we had the most falls. But we kept practising. We practised for ages.
Instead of saying, “Aaaah!” we started saying, “Wheeeeee!” And we started going from the table straight to the cereal cupboard, without even stopping at the fridge.
“Did you see that?” we said to Mum and Dad.
Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn’t. And sometimes our feet rolled out from underneath us with no warning or anything, and we said, “Did you see that?” from down on the floor.
We didn’t get bored, not even once.
Later that night we phoned Auntie Kate to say thank you.
Iggy said, “They are the best shoes ever.”
Auntie Kate said, “I know. I just couldn’t resist them. I wish they made them for grown-ups.”
“We’ll be really good at them next time you come to visit,” I said. “We’ll come and meet you at the airport on wheels.”
“Ooh,” said Auntie Kate. “The floor at the airport would be perfect.”
“How perfect?” Iggy said. “Why?”
“All smooth and shiny and no bumps,” Kate said. “And BIG, so you can skate for miles!”
“When are you coming?” Iggy and me said together, at exactly the same time.
“Not for a while,” she said. “But keep practising. And be on the lookout for good floors from now on.”
After that, even though we weren’t allowed outside yet with wheels on, Iggy and me became experts at floors. Everywhere we went, we imagined what they might be like to skate on, and every day we told each other what we found.
“Pavements would be tricky,” I said. “Too many cracks.”
“The school hall would be fun,” Iggy said. “Imagine wheeling around in assembly.”
“The playground would be juddery,” I said.
“The playground is sharp,” she said. “We’d have holes in our knees.”
“The supermarket would be good,” I said. “They’ve got smooth floors.”
“True,” said Iggy.
“And trolleys to hold on to,” I said. “Supermarkets would be the best.”
“Supermarkets. I know,” said Iggy.
But we were wrong.
On Saturday Mum and Dad said we were going to see some art.
“What sort of art?” I said, and Iggy said, “I don’t like it.”
“What don’t you like?” Mum said.
Iggy said, “Art. I don’t want to.”
Dad laughed. He said, “How come you spend half your time drawing if you don’t like art?”
“I like drawing it,” Iggy said. “I don’t like looking at it.”
“Well, we do,” Mum said. “So let’s go.”
“Can we wear our wheels?” Iggy said.
Mum and Dad looked at each other. Mum’s look said, “No way,” and Dad’s look said, “Oh, go on, let them.”
So they did.
We were right about pavements. They were tricky. The wheels made a clickety sound over all the joins and sometimes it was hard to roll anywhere. We had to pick up our heavy feet and walk. On the bus my legs kept rolling away from me when we turned corners. It felt funny.
We got off the bus by a big brown building. We stopped under a giant spider. The spider had eggs as big as footballs high up under its tummy. I looked up at the clouds through its legs.
“Is this the looking at art place?” said.
Mum and Dad said, “Yes.”
They said, “Your sister’s looking at art already.”
“I’m not,” said Iggy.
“Suit yourself,” said Dad.
“No,” Iggy said. “I mean…” and she suddenly grabbed my hand like something important had happened. “I’m looking at the FLOOR.”
The doors were opening and shutting as people were coming in and out. The floor inside was grey and shiny and enormous and A HILL. It sloped down all smooth, and the ceiling got higher and higher, and then it went flat. It could have been made for shoes with wheels.
“Heaven,” Iggy said.
Dad said he could think of another word for it.
“What is it?” I said.
Mum said, “Never you mind.”
We went through the doors and Dad said, “OK, let’s see what you’re made of. Me and Mum will go and stand at the bottom.”
“Are you sure about that?’ Mum said.
“Will you catch us?” I said.
Dad said, “If we have to.”
Mum said, “Don’t go too fast.”
I wasn’t sure how to do that.
Iggy and me stood at the top of the slope and watched Mum and Dad walk down it. They got quite far away. There were people everywhere. I wasn’t sure how not to bump into them.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I said to Iggy.
Iggy didn’t look at me. She was looking at Mum and Dad, way down at the bottom of the slope. She said. “Do you want to go first?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“This is going to be really fast,” she said.
I asked her if she was scared.
“No,” Iggy said, but I think she was lying.
Neither of us moved. Mum and Dad were pretending to fall asleep. Dad put his hands under his cheek like a pillow and shut his eyes. Mum acted like her knees weren’t working.
“Will we be all right?” Iggy said.
“I think so,” I said.
“Shall we count to three?” Iggy said.
“OK,” I said. “One…Two…”
“Will you hold my hand?” she said.
I took Iggy’s hand. It was all warm and fidgety. I took a deep breath.
“THREE!”
We were fast.
“Wheeeee!” we said.
We were so fast that we were at the bottom before we knew it and we could hardly remember how we got there. We didn’t fall over. And we didn’t bump into anybody. And we didn’t let go of each other’s hands.
“Again! Again!” Iggy shouted as soon as we stopped.
“I don’t think so,” said Mum.
“Why not?” I said.
“We have to!” Iggy said. She was holding on to Dad and wheeling around in circles.
“I think you’re in trouble,” Dad said, and we turned to see where he was looking.
&
nbsp; A lady in a black uniform was walking down the hill towards us. She was looking at our feet and she didn’t look happy. Iggy stopped wheeling. She stopped blinking even.
“Is she the police?” Iggy said. Her cheeks got very pink.
I held Mum’s hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
But not worrying was very hard.
The lady in the black uniform walked right up to where we were standing. She looked down at us and I looked up at her. Iggy wouldn’t look. She had her eyes closed.
“You mustn’t do that,” the lady said.
I nodded.
“You’ll have to take the wheels out while you’re here,” she said, and Dad said, “OK.”
“Sorry,” Mum said.
Then the lady in the black uniform smiled. “It’s OK,” she said.
Iggy opened one eye to see if she had gone yet.
“You’re very good at it,” the lady said as she walked away. “You went very fast.”
Iggy opened both her eyes. Her feet slid around a bit underneath her, but she didn’t look pink or scared any more.
“That,” Iggy said to me, “was the best floor ever.”
Iggy and the hamster
When Iggy went to school after her birthday, her teacher Rwaida asked her what her best present was.
“My bike,” Iggy said. “Definitely.”
“Ooh, you lucky girl,” Rwaida said. “A bicycle is a lovely present to have.”
“Yes,” said Iggy, “but really I wanted a hamster.”
Rwaida told Mum about it when we were collecting Iggy from her class. “The thing is,” Rwaida said, “we do need someone to take care of Gruffles over half term. Perhaps Iggy would like to do it.”
Half term is a bit in the middle of school where you don’t have to go just in case you’re getting tired of it. It is for a whole week. That means Iggy and me would have a hamster to look after for seven whole days.
“Please can we, Mum?” we said. “Please can we? Please?”
“I’m not sure,” said Mum on the walk home.
“No way,” said Dad when we asked him.
“Not on your Nelly,’ he said when we asked him again.
“But…” we said.
“But nothing,” said Dad.
Iggy and Me and the Happy Birthday Page 4
