Eating Things on Sticks (17 page)

Over the tannoy came a muffled announcement. ‘Plerp larp tenellin!'

‘Excellent!' said Uncle Tristram. And just as if he'd understood whatever it was the woman was saying though her beard, he led the way back down the steps so that, when the boat docked, we would be the very first ones off.

A WEIGHTED CANDLESTICK? BARE HANDS? A KITCHEN KNIFE?

Uncle Tristram switched off the engine before we even reached the gate and rolled the Maverati to a silent halt on top of the petunias.

‘Let's hope they didn't get another cat while we were gone,' I said sarcastically.

He turned to give me a high-five. ‘Well, there you go,' he said. ‘Hop out.'

I stared in panic. ‘Aren't you coming in?'

‘Don't tell me you're too chicken to face the music by yourself.'

‘Yes,' I admitted.

He sighed. ‘Oh, all right. I do understand your terror. My sister is a fearsome creature when she's riled.' He winced at what I took to be one or two rather nasty childhood memories he didn't choose to share. ‘I shall be brave and join you.'

He did unfasten his seat belt, but made no move to leave the safety of the car.

Neither did I.

After a few more silent and unmoving moments, he said to me, ‘Perhaps what we need here is another game plan.'

‘What's worrying me,' I said, ‘is what I'm going to say when they start in with all their questions.'

‘Just clutch your hand to your head,' he advised. ‘Tell them you simply can't bear to talk about it. Say it just brings back nightmares.'

‘And what about when the police show up to hand in their bill for a week's worth of telephone tapping?'

‘You made those calls in all good faith,' he said.

‘And when the Combined Air Services demand compensation for all those extra and unnecessary helicopters?'

‘Excellent practice for our armed forces. They should be
grateful
.' He spread his hands like someone pleading innocence in the dock. ‘After all, Harry, it isn't as if we have told any
lies
. I think that we can safely claim that we are still in harmony with the universe.'

‘I think we'll be even more in harmony with the universe in a minute,' I told him glumly. ‘In fact, I rather suspect that, in a few minutes, you and I will very probably both be
dead
.'

We sat in silence for a little while till Uncle Tristram got bored enough to say, ‘Oh, well then. No real point in putting it off.'

‘No,' I said dubiously.

‘So shall we go and see which murder weapon your mother has decided to use? A weighted candlestick? Bare hands? A kitchen knife?'

‘Yes, let's.'

We both got out of the car. I noticed that neither of us spoke, or slammed our door, and both of us picked our way as softly as we could over the few unsquashed petunias between the front wheels of the car and the front porch.

I slid my key in the door and turned it quietly. We crept into the hall. I could hear voices coming from the television in the living room so, looking for any old excuse to put off the dreadful moment, I pushed at the kitchen door.

Ta-
ra
! It opened on a gorgeous room with gleaming cabinets and shiny tops and magic pools of light pouring from nowhere. Honestly, it looked
fantastic
. The walls were pristine and the cupboard doors the richest, deepest scarlet. The bright new cover on the brand-new ironing board bore not a single scorch mark.

‘Hey!' Uncle Tristram whispered. ‘New freezer! Handsome!'

‘Look at that oven hob! Ace-matic!'

‘I like the new blinds.'

I stepped back. ‘Seen the floor tiles?'

‘Groovy! I reckon you've done your family a giant favour, Harry. This is a huge improvement on before. Look at that space-age microwave.'

I spun round. ‘Where?'

‘Built in. There. See?'

He pointed. That was his mistake. I merely followed the direction of his finger and there it was. The brand-new microwave. And when, by sheer force of habit, I found myself reaching out to press
Defrost – One Minute
, not expecting anything at all to happen, this supersonic clean machine with snow-white buttons actually obeyed at once.

‘Whoops! Sorry.'

I turned back to see Uncle Tristram staring at me in horror. ‘Oh, well done!' he hissed. ‘That should cut both our life expectancies right down to fifty-seven seconds at most. Can't you
cancel
the blasted thing?'

‘I could,' I said. ‘But if it's like our last one, it'll make exactly the same noise. But even sooner.'

He shrugged. ‘Oh, well. I suppose it had to happen sometime. Might as well get it all over with.'

I panicked. ‘
You're
all right. You don't live here. But I am going to get
mashed
. I reckon it'll be so bad I'll end up begging to come back to you.'

He scowled. ‘Well, don't think I'll be taking you on any more trips. I've had enough of holidays. Next time, we're going to stay home.'

Tipping his head back suddenly, he shut his eyes. ‘Yes! That's the plan for next time. Stay in the city. Bliss! Utter bliss! Think of it, Harry! When we get hungry, we can shop in supermarkets or eat in restaurants. When we get bored, we won't have to traipse up and down windy beaches, being pooed on by seagulls. We can go to the cinema, or swim in pools with flumes . . .'

It sounded so tempting, my worries all began to fade.

Uncle Tristram still looked ecstatic. ‘When we run out of money, I can simply go to a cash machine or step into the nearest bank. If we watch television, everyone on it will have proper heads and not just fuzzy grey blobs.'

Feeling a little more in harmony with the universe myself, I punched the air and whispered, ‘Yes!' just as the microwave went:

Uncle Tristram broke off. ‘Well,' he reproved me. ‘That should be loud enough to bring the wolves down on the fold.'

We waited. And we waited.

I crossed my fingers as the footsteps crossed the hall.

The door flew open. There my parents stood.

HOME AND DRY

I don't have to go into sordid detail, do I? I mean, you must have been through this sort of thing yourself. You'll know the score. I don't have to list all of their ‘How
could
you . . . ?'s, and their ‘Why in heaven's name didn't you . . . ?'s, and their ‘Surely it must have
occurred
to you that . . . !'s, and their ‘How do you think we . . . ?'s, and their ‘I simply can't
believe
 . . . !'s. It went on for ages. Absolutely ages. I was exhausted at the end.

We gave as good as we got. Uncle Tristram was brilliant with all his ‘How on earth were we supposed to know . . . ?'s, and his ‘Why should we for a single
moment
think . . . ?'s, and his ‘You're being quite unreasonable . . . !'s, and his ‘It's not as if we were deliberately . . .'s.

I backed him up. I came out fighting with my own ‘It isn't
our
fault that . . . !'s, and my ‘Nobody
told
us . . . !'s, and my ‘You never
said
I had to . . . !'s, and my ‘Anyone else would have done the
same
 . . . !'s, and my ‘I don't know why you're blaming
me
 . . . !'s.

In the end, everything calmed down a bit. Dad made some toast. Mum introduced a sour note by muttering, ‘Please don't let Harry anywhere near the tea towels until that toaster's been unplugged at the mains.'

But I could tell the very worst was over.

Phew!

When Uncle Tristram was sure that we were pretty well home and dry, he reached for his jacket and car keys. ‘Well, that's me ready for bed. Better be off.'

I followed him back through the petunias to the car. ‘Thanks for the help.'

‘No problem,' Uncle Tristram bragged. ‘My sister doesn't frighten me.'

‘She does.'

‘Well, obviously,' he defended himself, ‘when she is in one of her moods, even a Genetically Modified Giant Cockroach from the Planet Battle would take the long route round her.' To cover his embarrassment at having lied, he reached in the Maverati's boot to pull out my rucksack, and as he tugged away at it, one of the plastic bags that we had stuffed with Aunty Audrey's leftover clothes split down the side.

Out fell two pretty beaded purses.

‘Here,' he said. ‘Give your mum one of these. She'll love it. Tell her it's a gift from your holidays. Then she can't change her mind and start to sulk at you again tomorrow.'

‘She's not like that,' I said. ‘And anyway, they're Morning Glory's purses, so she ought to get the money for both of them.'

He turned them over in his hand. ‘I don't know,' he told me dubiously. ‘Both of them look a bit tatty. They can't be worth much.' He thrust one at me. ‘Go on, Harry. Take it. I promise that when I sell all this rubbish to the vintage clothing shop, I'll pay Morning Glory twice over for the other purse. You just tell Tansy it's from both of us. Then things will be fair all round.'

I couldn't think of any reason to argue. So I went back inside the house.

CLAIRETTE SHARD

Mum couldn't believe it. ‘Harry! But this is vintage Clairette Shard! And apart from one or two loose beads that can be fixed, it's in pristine condition. It must be worth an absolute fortune! Where on earth did you find it?'

‘More to the point,' my dad said, ‘how much did Harry pay for it?'

Here is the proof that it's always better and safer not to tell lies. I came quite close to choosing what I thought a sensible amount – a couple of quid or so – and coming out with that. Mercifully, Mum beat me to it. ‘Whatever Harry paid, it can't be what it's worth. If you go into one of those vintage clothes shops, you find these Clairette Shard purses are selling for three thousand pounds.'

My mouth fell open. So did Dad's.

FURIOUS

Uncle Tristram was
furious
. ‘Three thousand pounds? You should have simply snatched it back!'

I held the phone a little further away from my ear to try to protect myself. It seemed to me that for the last two hours I had been trying to defend myself from quite unreasonable attacks.

‘How could I snatch it back? I'd only just that minute
given
it to her. “Here!” I'd just said. “This is a present to you from me and Uncle Tristram.” Those were my very words. How could I snatch it back?'

‘You should have tried!'

‘It wouldn't have worked in any case. She was holding the thing as tightly as if it were a heap of crown jewels.'