Big Day Out (4 page)

I gave a whoop. Mark and Ginnie and Jon and Alice gave a whoop too, though they were half mocking me. Jess and Cherry gave great big whoops. Baby Rupert whooped too. He couldn’t see the fair down at kneecap level in his buggy but he didn’t want to be left out.

Mum and Graham smiled smugly.

Of course, the fair meant different things to all of us. Jon and Mark –
and
Graham – wanted to go straight on the dodgems. Ginnie and Alice and I went too, while Mum minded the littlies. She bought them all whippy ice creams with chocolate flakes. I wailed, saying I’d much much much sooner have an ice cream than get in a dodgem car. Mum sighed and bought me an ice cream too. But as soon as it was in my hand
I
decided it
might
be fun to go on the dodgems too, so I jumped in beside Jon.

Big mistake. Mark drove straight into us,
wham-bam
, and then
splat
, the chocolate flake went right up my nostril and my ice cream went all over my face.

Mum mopped me up with one of Rupert’s wet wipes, and Jon bought me another ice cream to console me. I licked this in peace while Jess and Cherry and baby Rupert sat in a kiddies’ roundabout and slowly and solemnly revolved in giant teacups.

‘I wonder if they’ve got a
proper
roundabout,’ said Mum. ‘I used to love those ones with the horses and the twisty gilt rails and the special music. I want to go on a real old-fashioned carousel.’

‘Oh, Mum, you don’t get those any more,’ said Ginnie – but she was
wrong
.

We went on all sorts of
new
-fashioned rides first. We were all hurtled round and round and upside down until even I started wondering if that extra ice cream had been a good idea. Then, as we staggered queasily to the other side of the field, we heard old organ music. Mum lifted her head, listening intently.

‘Is it?’ she said.

It
was
. We pushed through the crowd and suddenly it was just like stepping back a hundred years. There was the most beautiful old roundabout with galloping horses with grinning mouths and flaring nostrils and scarlet saddles, some shiny black, some chocolate brown, some dappled grey. There was also one odd pink ostrich with crimson feathers and an orange beak.

‘Why is that big bird there, Mum?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know, Laura. I think they always have one odd one. Maybe it’s a tradition.’

‘I’m going to go on the bird,’ I said.

The roundabout was slowing down. Mum had little Rupert unbuckled from his buggy so he could ride too. Graham had Cherry in his arms. Mark and Jon said the roundabout was just for kids, but when Graham asked one of them to look after Jess they both offered eagerly. Ginnie and Alice had an argument over who was going to ride on a black horse with
ROBBIE
on his nameplate (they both have a thing about Robbie Williams) so eventually they squeezed on together.

I rushed for the ostrich. I didn’t need to. No one else wanted it. Well,
I
did. I clambered on and stroked its crimson feathers. Ostriches are definitely the odd ones out of the bird family. They can’t fly. They’re too heavy for their own wings.

I’m definitely the odd one out of my family – and I frequently feel too heavy for my own legs. I sat gripping the ostrich with my knees, waiting for the music to start and the roundabout to start
revolving
. People were still scrabbling onto the few remaining horses. A middle-aged lady in much-too-tight jeans was hauling this little toddler up onto the platform. I put out my hand to help – and then stopped, astonished. I couldn’t have been more amazed if my ostrich had opened its beak and bitten me. It wasn’t any old middle-aged lady bursting out of her jeans. It was Mrs Mann!

I stared at her – and she stared at me.

‘Hello, Laura,’ she said. ‘This is my little granddaughter, Rosie.’

I made appropriate remarks to Rosie while Mrs Mann struggled to get them both up onto the ordinary brown horse beside my splendid ostrich. Mrs Mann couldn’t help showing rather a lot of her vast blue-denimed bottom. I had to struggle to keep a straight face.

‘Are you with your mother, Laura?’ said Mrs Mann.

Oh help! Mum was in front of me with Rupert. I had written Mrs Mann that long essay about Mum and me just living together. I hadn’t mentioned any babies whatsoever.

‘I’m here … on my own,’ I mumbled.

At that exact moment Mum turned round and waved at me. ‘Are you all right, Laura?’ she called. She nodded at Mrs Mann.

Mum and Mrs Mann looked at me, waiting for me to introduce them. I stayed silent as the music started up.
Go, go, go
, I urged inside my head. But we didn’t go soon enough.

‘I’m Laura’s mum,’ said Mum.

‘I’m Laura’s teacher,’ said Mrs Mann. ‘And this is Rosie.’

Rosie waved coyly to Rupert.

‘This is my baby Rupert,’ said Mum.

Mrs Mann looked surprised.

‘And that’s Cherry over there with my partner Graham, and Jess with my son Mark, and that’s my stepson Jon, and then that’s Alice and Ginnie
over
there, waving at those boys, the naughty girls. Sorry! We’re such a big family now that it’s a bit hard for anyone to take in,’ said Mum, because Mrs Mann was looking so stunned.

The horses started to edge forward very very slowly, u-u-u-u-p and d-o-w-n. My tummy went up and down too as Mrs Mann looked at me.

‘So you’re part of a very big family, Laura?’ she said.

‘Yes, Mrs Mann,’ I said, in a very small voice.

‘Well, you do surprise me,’ she said.

‘Nana, Nana!’ said Rosie, taking hold of Mrs Mann’s nose and wiggling it backward and forward affectionately. Mrs Mann simply chuckled. I wondered how she’d react if any of our class tweaked her nose!

‘We seem to be surprising each other,’ shouted Mrs Mann, as the music got louder as the roundabout revved up. ‘Well, Laura, judging by your long and utterly convincing autobiographical
essay
, you are obviously either a pathological liar – or a born writer. We’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You have the most vivid imagination of any child I’ve ever taught. You will obviously go far.’

And then the music was too loud for talking and the horses whirled round and round and round. I sat tight on my ostrich, and it spread its crimson wings and we flew far over the fair, all the way up and over the moon.

‘
HEY, YOU TWO
. Rise and shine,’ said Dad, putting his head round our bedroom door. ‘It’s Saturday, and we’re going up to London for a special treat.’

My big sister Melissa merely grunted and burrowed further under her pink flowery duvet in the bottom bunk bed. I sat bolt upright, still wrapped like a cocoon in my
Wilma the Whale
duvet. I have a pink flowery one too, to match Melissa’s, but I always kick it right off my bunk bed. I hate pink and I hate flowery. I
love
whales, especially Wilma. I don’t have favourites out of all my pretend pets, but if I
did
, it would definitely be Wilma. I also have Jumper, a black and white Dalmatian dog
(Dad
won him for me at a fair), Basil the boa constrictor (I made him out of Mum’s old tights), Polly the Parrot (she’s cardboard and getting a bit bent now), Percy the Porcupine (though he’s lost his hairbrush prickles) and a whole stable of plastic ponies.

Melissa thinks I’m seriously weird having all these toy animals. Mum thinks so too. I think even Dad does. But
I
don’t think I’m one bit weird. If I can’t have a real pet, then pretend ones are the next best thing.

‘Where are we going for our treat, Dad?’ I said, disentangling Wilma so I could bounce up and down on my bunk bed.

We don’t often go on days out up to London on account of the fact we haven’t got much money.

‘Hey, can we go to the zoo?’ I asked. ‘Oh, please, I want to see what a real porcupine looks like. Or perhaps we could go to the aquarium? Maybe they’ve got real whales?’

‘You are so mad, Marty,’ Melissa muttered, even though she hadn’t surfaced yet. ‘How could you possibly fit a whale inside an aquarium? Dad, can we go shopping? We could go along Oxford Street – or I’ve always wanted to go to Camden Market. Oh, please, let’s go there, it would be so cool.’

‘Sorry, girls. We’re not going to the zoo or the aquarium or Oxford Street or Camden Market – thank goodness! We’re going to a special show at Olympia.’

‘A show!’ we said in unison.

‘Like a pop concert?’ Melissa asked, poking her head out at last. ‘Can we go and see Lady Gaga?’

‘You’re the one who’s ga-ga.
I
want to see a musical, with a proper story, like
Wicked
or
The Wizard of Oz
. My friend Jaydene’s been to both and she says they’re brilliant,’ I said.

‘No concert, no musical. This is a special animal show,’ said Dad.

‘
Real
animals?’ I gasped.

‘I think so. Cats, dogs, rabbits, mice, snakes—’

‘Oh, wow!’ I said, hurtling down the bunk-bed ladder and dancing around in my
Spider-man
pyjamas. ‘Will there be boa constrictors?’

‘I doubt it. It’s a show for people wanting pets. Mum and I thought it would be a good idea to take you girls and then maybe we could all agree on a good family pet.’

‘Oh, double, triple wow! But Mum’s always said we can’t have pets because of the mess and the fuss!’ I said.

‘Yes, I know, but Mum’s allowed to change her mind sometimes,’ said Dad, grinning.

‘I bet
you
changed it for her! You’re the best dad in the whole world,’ I said, giving him a big hug.

‘Is this pet going to just be for Marty?’ Melissa asked. ‘Because that’s not the slightest bit fair.’

‘It’s going to be a pet for all of us,’ said Dad. ‘Now, get ready, girls. Breakfast in ten minutes, OK?’

‘I can’t believe Mum’s weakened at long long last!’ I said as we got ready.

‘I think it’s because they’re worried about you,’ said Melissa, giving me a poke. ‘Because you play with those tatty old toy animals all the time. They’ve probably consulted a child psychologist because you’re so deluded.’

‘Cheek! I’m not the one who’s written
To my darling Melissa, I love you so much, love from Justin Bieber
all over that tatty photo you cut out of a magazine.
That’s
deluded,’ I said. ‘Anyway, who cares
why
Mum’s changed her mind? What kind of pet shall we have?’

‘I think a little cat would be lovely,’ said Melissa, brushing her hair. It always annoys her that her hair is brown and straight, whereas mine is blonde and curly, even though she’s the girlie girl and I’m the tomboy.

‘What about a
big
cat? A tiger or a leopard or a panther,’ I said, leaping around the bathroom and pouncing on Melissa.

‘Ow! Stop it, you idiot. No, a little cat with fluffy fur – one that will sit on my lap and purr,’ said Melissa.

‘You just like cute and cuddly animals. I want a really
exciting
pet,’ I said.

My head felt like a Noah’s Ark as animals of all shapes and sizes trumpeted and roared and whinnied in my mind. I dressed hurriedly in my comfy jeans and my
Pow!
T-shirt and my tartan Converse boots. Melissa dressed in her pink glittery heart top and her shortest skirt and her silly shoes with tiny heels. These are our favourite outfits.

Dad pretended to be dazzled by our gorgeousness when we came down for breakfast. Mum was less enthusiastic, but didn’t make either of us go and
change
. She was in an unusually good mood.

‘Can we really really really have a pet, Mum?’ I asked.

‘We’re not making any promises. Your dad has twisted my arm about going to this Pet Show. We’ll see. But I do know just how much it would mean to you, Martina – and if you had a real animal it might help you grow out of all those tatty toys you trail around.’

‘See!’ said Melissa. ‘I was right. Mum, can we have a cat?’

‘We’re going to have a good look at all the pets at the Show – I just think a cat would be a very sensible choice,’ said Mum. ‘They’re very clean and you don’t have to take them for walks.’

‘Couldn’t we have a tiger, Mum, just a baby one, and then I could train it so it wouldn’t be too fierce and would only bite people I don’t like? Or what about a tarantula?
They’re
fluffy, Melissa, and I’m sure it would sit on your lap,’ I said.

‘Try not to be silly, Martina, or I might just change my mind altogether,’ said Mum.

I sometimes find it very hard
not
to be silly when I’m all excited, but I managed to keep my lips buttoned on the tube to Olympia. There were crowds and crowds all flocking into the big exhibition centre. It took ages to queue up and get inside – and then there we were, in this absolutely enormous hall, chock full of animals.

‘Oh, brilliant!’ I said, rushing off headlong – but Dad caught hold of me by the back of my T-shirt.

‘Calm down now, Marty! Don’t you
dare
go charging off like that – we’ll lose you in this crowd,’ he said.

‘Good idea!’ said Melissa, who can never resist a wise-crack. ‘Let’s go and see the cats!’

‘We’d better do this methodically, aisle by aisle,’ said Mum – but the cats happened to be on the nearest aisle.

I was all set to find them boring, simply because they were Melissa’s choice – but the moment I stood in front of the first big padded cage I fell totally in love with the most beautiful Russian Blue cat called Anastasia. She wasn’t really blue, just a soft grey colour, but her eyes were a bright sapphire blue. She was clearly a very special cat, because her cage was covered with red and yellow rosettes. She lay back modestly enough, her paws neatly crossed, her great blue eyes staring at me.