Skinny Melon and Me (11 page)

Dad and Rosemary have just had a bit of an argument about which of them is going to drive me back tomorrow. I heard them when I went to the bathroom. (I have noticed, in a flat, you can quite often hear people talking. It is not as private as in a house.) I heard Rosemary say, “She’s your daughter!” and then Dad said something that I couldn’t catch but I think it was something about needing to go into the office again, and Rosemary said, “I am not driving her all the way to London and that is that!”

I’m glad she isn’t driving me. I don’t think I could bear it, and I don’t expect she could, either.

Now I am back home. I had to come by train because of Rosemary refusing to drive me and Dad having to go into the office. It is a bit of a drawback in some ways having a
father who is so important. I mean, I am glad of course that he is important, but I would have liked it better if he had been there more of the time as it was not so much fun when he wasn’t. I don’t feel very comfortable with Rosemary. I think she would rather I hadn’t come.

I rang Mum before we left, to tell her what time my train was getting in. She was furious, I could tell. She said, “Train? All by yourself?” And I said yes, because Dad had to work. “Oh, does he?” she said. “Where is he? Let me speak to him!” I didn’t want her to but she started to shout. She shouted, “You put him on the telephone!” It was so loud that Dad heard it and came and took the receiver off me. He said, “Hallo? Pat?” quite pleasantly, I thought, but it soon developed into one of their rows.

I think Mum must have asked him why I couldn’t stay till Saturday and come back by car because Dad sort of twisted his lips in a way which said, “I am being very patient but do not try me too far,” and informed her that, “Rosemary and I happen to have a very important dinner party that we have to go to this evening. It is not something we can get out of, nor would we wish to. All right?”

I don’t know what Mum said after that because I couldn’t bear to listen any more. Why does everything always get so horrible when Mum and Dad talk to each other? I wish they hadn’t! It ruined the end of my holiday.

Dad and Rosemary both came to the station with me. I would rather it had just been Dad, but at least
Rosemary stayed in the car which meant I was able to say goodbye to Dad on my own. He said, “We’ve had fun this week, haven’t we? We must do it again – and not leave it so long next time.” I said that maybe I could come at Christmas but Dad said unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible as he and Rosemary had already arranged to go with some friends to Austria and do some skiing. I didn’t like to suggest that maybe I could go with them as I don’t think Rosemary would be happy. I don’t think she likes me very much. So then I had a bright idea and said, “Parents’ Evening! You could come to Parents’ Evening!” Dad said he thought that was an excellent suggestion and if I let him know when it was, he would definitely be there. He said, “That’s a promise!”

We had a bit of time to wait so we went over to the bookstall and Dad bought me some magazines and another horror book. Unlike Mum and Slimey, he didn’t go “tut tut” about me reading horrors but said they looked jolly good and really exciting and ought to keep me on the edge of my seat all the way to London. As it happens I cannot read very well on trains as they jerk up and down and make my eyes go funny but I didn’t say so to Dad. Instead I said that I would find out the date of Parents’ Evening and let him know. He said, “Make sure you do!” and then it was time to say goodbye and for me to get on the train.

This was the first time that I have ever been on a long
train journey by myself. I kept worrying how I would know when we reached London, which was stupid because London is where the train stops. It doesn’t go anywhere else. And then I worried about leaving my seat to go to the toilet in case I couldn’t find my way back or someone stole my things. And then when I absolutely had to go because otherwise I would have to burst it was one of those ones where you have to press buttons to get in and more buttons to close the door and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to get out again, but of course I did. I expect if I got used to travelling on my own it would be all right.

Another thing I worried about was what I would do if I got to London and couldn’t see Mum or Slimey, but Slimey was there, waiting for me, looking all Slimey-ish in an anorak and joggers and tatty old trainers.

He gave me a big hug and a kiss and I let him, which normally I wouldn’t have done because normally it would revolt me, but I was just so relieved to see him. He said, “I’m sorry Butterpat couldn’t come, but she has an appointment at the clinic.” (Meaning the ante-natal clinic, where all the pregnant
women go to make sure they are having proper babies and not babies that have things wrong with them.) He said he knew that he was second best but, “Hopefully better than nothing.”

I felt sort of sorry for him when he said this. I also felt a bit mean about leaving his book behind, especially as I was clutching my horror book. I explained that Dad had bought me the book and that I hadn’t left his one behind on purpose, I’d simply forgotten to pack it, like I’d also forgotten to pack my tooth brush (this was a fib but I said it to make him feel better). I said that I wished I had taken his book as I’d had to go out and buy myself some, and I promised that I would read his next. Slimey said, “I’m afraid you won’t find it very exciting after your diet of horror. I probably made a mistake in choosing it.” He sounded really sad, as if it mattered to him that I mightn’t find his book exciting. I said that I would definitely read it and let him know.

When we got home Mum was there. I’d forgotten how enormous she looks after Rosemary. She asked me if I’d had a good time and I said, “Brilliant,” because it would have been disloyal to Dad to have said anything else. Mum said, “Well, there’s nothing very brilliant on offer at this end, but we can go up to the video shop and get a video, if you like.” I said, “Can I choose?” and Mum said, “Yes, but you know the rules.” So I chose
Strictly Ballroom
and I was right, Mum loved it! So did Slime. Mum said it was a “good old-fashioned movie
with no sex and no violence” and Slime surprised everyone – well, he surprised me, but I think Mum as well – by saying that he used to be a champion tango dancer, and to prove it he jumped up and pulled me into the middle of the room and taught me how to do it! He was really good. And so now I know how to tango!

He’s still shoving cards under my door and I still don’t like it but I suppose he is only doing it to try and be friendly. It is rather pathetic, really. Imagine being so desperate to be liked!

After breakfast I rang the Melon and we arranged to meet at the top of my road and go round the shops together. She wanted to know what it was like at Dad’s
so I said the same as I said to Mum, that it was brilliant. I told her all the things I’d done and then asked her what she’d done.

Skinny said she hadn’t done anything at all. She sounded a bit down in the dumps so I asked her what the matter was and at first she said nothing was the matter but then she said that her mum had met this man at the place where she works and he was called Melvyn and he was dire. I was going to say that he couldn’t possibly be any more dire than Slime but then for some reason I didn’t. I don’t know why. I said, “Maybe she just has bad taste in men but it doesn’t really matter so long as she’s not going to marry him.” Skinny said rather fiercely that of course she wasn’t going to marry him, he was just a boyfriend. I said, “So what’s the problem?” and she said there wasn’t one except that she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Then she cheered up and said she wanted to go and buy a new pair of leggings with some money that he’d given her. I said, “Dire Melvyn?” and she giggled and said, “He’s trying to worm his way into my good books!”

I really don’t know what she’s got to complain about.

When I got home I found that Slime had finished the pond. I have to say that it is quite nice. It will be very pretty in summer, with water lilies and bullrushes. It is not quite ready for the fish but next week we are going to go and buy some. I am refusing to be too enthusiastic because if I am it will make Mum think I have forgiven
her for breaking her promise about the dog, which I most certainly have not.

I would still like a dog more than anything else in the world. Far more than a personal computer, though naturally I wouldn’t say this to Dad. A computer will help me not to end up living in a cardboard box (maybe – maybe not) but a dog would bring immense cheer and comfort into my gloomy life. I could play with it and take it for walks and feed it and brush it and cuddle it and talk to it and it could even sleep in bed with me. Oh, why can’t I have one? Trust Slimey Roland to go and suffer from stupid allergies!