Skinny Melon and Me (3 page)

BOOK: Skinny Melon and Me
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Instead she just laughed, sort of nervously, and said, “Puppies are always small, to my knowledge.”

I said, “Yes, but these are going to stay small. Their mum is a Jack Russell and their dad was a Yorkshire terrier.”

You can’t get much smaller than a Yorkshire terrier. And anyway, she promised. As good as. After Dad left and Mum and me were on our own she said, “We’ll get a dog to keep us company.” But she never did. Now here was I offering her one free, so why didn’t she jump at it?

Because of Slimey Roland, that’s why. I said, “You promised!” and this shifty look came into her eyes and she didn’t want to meet my gaze, which is a sure sign of
guilt. She said, “I don’t think I actually promised.” I said, “You did! You promised!” Mum said, “I may have mentioned it as a possibility. That’s all.” I said, “Well, now it is a possibility! They’re going for free!”

And then Mum sighed and said, “Cherry, I’d love a dog as much as you would, but how can we? You know Roly’s allergic.” I said, “Allergic to dogs?” How can anyone be allergic to dogs? I said, “I know he has hay fever.” But hay fever is pollen. Mum said, “I’m afraid it’s not just hay fever. The poor man’s allergic to all kinds of things – dust, pollution, house mites …”

And dogs. He just would be, wouldn’t he? He’s that sort of person. All wimpy and sniffly and red-eyed. So Mum has to break her promise just because of him!

Saturday

That creep shoved another note under my door. Something about a tortoise. I don’t want a rotten tortoise! I want a dog. Mum promised me.

This morning we went into the shops and I got a couple of bras, one white and one pink. I suppose they’re all right, but it’s all gone a bit sour now that I know she and Slime have been sniggering about it. I keep picturing them lying in bed together having this good laugh.

I chucked his note into the waste-paper basket along with all the others. If he doesn’t stop doing it, it’ll soon be full to overflowing. Mum said today that we are going to have a new regime. She said, “I looked into your bedroom yesterday and it’s like a pigsty,” to which I instantly retorted that as a matter of fact pigs left to themselves are extremely clean and intelligent animals. It’s only horrible farmers that make them dirty by not
allowing them to lead natural lives. To which Mum said, thinking herself very clever, “Well in future I am going to leave you to yourself and we shall see how clean and intelligent you are. From here on in -” (that is a phrase she has picked up from Carol my godmother, who has picked it up in Austin, Texas) “- from here on in I wash my hands of your bedroom. You can take sole responsibility for it. Right?”

I just humped a shoulder, feeling generally disgruntled on account of Mum breaking her promise about the dog. Mum said again, “Right?” and I muttered “Right,” and Slimey Roland did his best to catch my eye across the table and wink, but I refused to take any notice.

Later on, Avril Roper rang to find out if we were going to have one of the puppies. I didn’t want to say no, so I said we hadn’t yet decided, and she said me and Skinny could go round and see them sometime if I liked. She said, “They’re so
sweet.
You won’t be able to resist them. You can hold them in the palm of your hand!”

So then I rushed back to Mum and said, “Mum, they’re so tiny you can hold them in the palm of your hand! Oh, Mum, can’t we have one? Please?” thinking that if I really begged hard enough she wouldn’t be able to say no, but she was obviously feeling in a mean mood because all she did was snap at me. She said, “I already told you, the answer is no! Roly’s health happens to be of more importance to me than a dog. I’m sorry, but there it is.”

I gave her this really venomous look as I slunk out of the room.

Sunday

It is after breakfast and I am writing this sitting on my bed. If Mum doesn’t do my bedroom soon the waste-paper basket will be overflowing with notes from Slimey Roland. I am on strike. Mum
always
used to do my bedroom.

I used to help Dad clean the car but Slimey hasn’t got one because he can’t drive. And Mum can’t have one because Slimey won’t let her. He says they pollute the environment and we all have to walk or use bicycles. I am not going to help him clean his bicycle!!! He looks like a total idiot riding about with his helmet on and his soppy little cycling shorts. Like a stick insect with his head stuck in a goldfish bowl.

Anyway, I help with laying the table and putting things away and doing the wiping up. She won’t let me do the washing up any more because she says I use too much washing-up liquid (Greencare, natch. Slimey won’t
have ordinary Fairy liquid in the house, you bet he won’t. He’s a complete nutter. He goes round reading all the labels and checking the lists of ingredients and spying on me and Mum to make sure we don’t buy anything that might punch holes in the ozone layer).

Another reason Mum won’t let me do the washing up is that she says I cause too many breakages. So now Slimey gets to do it and he does it ever so s-l-o-w-l-y and c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y and nearly drives me mad.

Dad never used to help in the kitchen, it was one of the things that he and Mum had rows about. But Dad used to go out to work all day. Slimey works at home (if it can be called work, just drawing pictures of elves). It’s only fair that he should help.

It wouldn’t have been fair if Dad had had to. I don’t think it would. When I was little and Dad was in an office we were really really happy. He and Mum hardly ever had rows or shouted at each other. It was only when Dad got made redundant and couldn’t find another job and had to go and do the mini-cabbing that it all became horrible. That was when the rows started, because of Dad having to go out and do something he didn’t like while Mum just went on sitting at home and reading her books. Of course she was being paid money to do it but it wasn’t the same as having to go mini-cabbing. That was what Dad said.

One thing about Slimey, he is interested in Mum’s work. Sometimes he reads the books and they discuss
them together. Also, he and Mum don’t have rows. Yet. But they sit and hold hands and do a lot of kissing and I can’t stand it! I hate to think of them holding hands and kissing all day while I’m at school. It makes me feel sick. Kissing with a
beard.
I hate beards.

It’s eleven o’clock now and I’m going to go down the road and fetch their Sunday papers for them, which is another of the jobs I have to do that Mum doesn’t take into consideration when she goes on about my bedroom. When I come back I might ring Skinny Melon and see if she’s going to take Lulu up the park. Or I might ring Avril and find out how the puppies are. Imagine having a dog all of your own! I could have, if it weren’t for Slimey. He’s in the back bedroom at the moment, drawing elves, and Mum is downstairs on the word processor, writing to her friend, Carol in Austin, Texas. They write to each other every single week! It’s almost unbelievable. What on earth do they find to say???

141 Arethusa Road
London W5

Sunday 27 September

My dear Carol,

Lovely to have all your news and so glad things are working out for you. Just forget all about Martin. He was a jerk and you are well rid of him. Some people are better apart. Take Gregg and me, for instance. We made each other utterly wretched, yet I couldn’t be happier with Roly! I’m sure you’ll soon meet someone else, though I confess I live in dread that it will turn out to be some big handsome Texan and that you’ll settle down for good and all in the States! It’s a long way to come and visit …

You ask how Cherry is getting on at her new school. Quite well, as far as I can make out, though she doesn’t say very much. The thing she is most vociferous about is the food! She is becoming terribly faddy, but I suppose it’s her age. I seem to recall when I was eleven going through a phase when I wanted to eat nothing but Mars Bars. Ah, those were the days! One Mars Bar, one KitKat, one Penguin biscuit, all gobbled up before the morning break and not a spare inch of flesh to be seen! Of course I wouldn’t let Cherry eat stuff like that. Roly,
fortunately, is educating me in the way to healthy living. No more junk food! No more snacks! In fact I think we shall all end up as veggies.

I wish I could say that Cherry’s attitude towards Roland had changed for the better, but she is still very cold. It’s so unfair, because he tries so hard. He keeps sending her these really charming little cards with coded messages in the form of pictures. Any other child would be delighted. But I see Cherry simply throws them in her waste-paper basket. It’s so ungracious. As a result I am refusing to clean up her bedroom for her. She can jolly well do it herself!

She is a bit peeved at the moment because a girl at school has offered her a puppy and she has taken it into her head that I actually promised her she could have one. I’m sure I only said that I would think about it. Anyway, as it happens it’s just not possible as poor Roly is seriously allergic. He’s going to start digging a pond in the back garden so that we can have some fish. I think she’ll like that.

Oh, I must tell you! It was so funny the other day. Cherry, as you may remember, has this friend called Melanie who is like a beanpole, and Melanie, my dear, was going out to buy a bra! So naturally Cherry decided that she wanted one, too, and we had to trundle out yesterday morning to get her a couple. But the joke is, she has nothing there! As flat as the proverbial pancake! Well, it probably makes her feel sophisticated and Roly
says we mustn’t laugh as one is very sensitive to these things when one is young.

Roly really is a most extraordinarily understanding sort of person. And sympathetic! Far more than I am when she starts playing up. She has really been trying my patience just recently. But Roly never loses his temper. He never allows himself to be goaded. That is why it makes me so angry, the way Cherry treats him. He could be such a wonderful dad to her! If only she would let him. I am hoping that the goldfish will do the trick …

Write soon! All love,

BOOK: Skinny Melon and Me
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