Fruit and Nutcase (11 page)

Huh! That’s all she knew.

Tracey Bigg laughed like a
drain.

Miss Foster said, “Dear me, Mandy! In the wars again? What happened this time?” I told her that I’d fallen down the stairs, and old Tracey, she pulls this face, as if to say, “She would!” and afterwards, when I go into the playground, she’s waiting for me with her gang and she’s made up another of her stupid rhymes.

She needn’t think I care.

I’ve been thinking what sort of house we’ll buy when my book is published and we have lots of money.

It’s got to be a real house, not just rooms in someone else’s. And it’s got to have a garden, so that I can grow flowers.

This is the sort of house I think we’ll have.

And it won’t be in London! It will be somewhere nice, like Croydon. My Uncle Allan and Auntie Liz live in Croydon. They live in Linden Close, and it’s really beautiful.

Uncle Allan is Dad’s brother. He has done well
for himself, my nan says. He is a manager in Sainsbury’s, and that, I think, pays more money than being a window cleaner. But I bet my dad could be a manager in Sainsbury’s if he wanted! He just doesn’t want, that’s all.

When we have our house it will be like Uncle Allan’s, in a nice road that is all quiet, with trees and grass. And it will have a name, such as Sky View or The Laurels or Mandalay. Mandalay, I think, is pretty. There is a house near us called Mandalay. When I was little I used to think it said Mandy!

We will definitely have a house; it is the first thing we will get.

Another thing we will have is a car. Everybody has a car. Even Deirdre and Garry have one, though it is what Dad calls a banger, meaning it is clapped out and you can hear it coming from streets away.

We will have a better car than that! A little one because they are sweet, and also they would not use so much petrol.

We are the only people I know who don’t have a car (apart from Misery Guts, but she is too old). It is all right for Tracey Bigg going on about the ecology and how cars are poisoning the planet, but her mum has a
whacking
great huge one which she comes and picks her up in after school. It is a real gas guzzler.

Our little baby car will only need a tiny drop.

Anyway, I can’t say I’ve ever noticed Tracey walking home to save the planet being poisoned. She jumps into the car quick enough. She’s all mouth, that girl is.

I have made up a rhyme about
her.

If I knew how to spell it I’d chalk it up on one of the lavatory walls.

I will know how to spell it when Cat’s mum has typed it out. Ho ho! You just watch it, Tracey Bigg!

*
Note from Cat’s mum: Nonsense! It’s great fun.

Hi! It’s me again. Back on line, doing my life story. I’ve been working on it for ages, now. Ever since Cat first suggested it, which was way back months ago.

I aim to finish it pretty soon. I asked Cat when she wanted it done by, and she said, “Well, just as soon as you can manage.” What she means is, I should get it all down before I go completely fruit and nutty.

I
will
be fruit and nutty, before very long. Just as I think I’ve got my mum and dad sorted, they go and do something else totally mad and daft and irresponsible. It’s like they are both completely
off the wall.

I hoped after I fell through the floorboard we’d have a bit of peace and quiet in the Small household. I mean, the hot water heater had already blown up, so that couldn’t happen again. The floorboard had been roped off, and so had the banisters; I just couldn’t see what else there was that could go wrong. But trust my mum and dad! They’ll always find something.

First thing that happens, Dad gets out of bed in the early hours of the morning and forgets about the floorboard and goes and treads on one of the nails he’s knocked in to stop people falling through. He doesn’t half yell!

He yells so loud that even Mum wakes up. Her and me come rushing out, and a door opens somewhere down below and old Misery Guts starts shrieking up the stairs.

Dad’s got this big hole in his foot and he’s in agony, dancing up and down. Mum bathes it for him but we haven’t got any Dettol, only
household cleaner, and he won’t let her use that. I say what about if I go down to the garden and get some mud, ‘cos I’ve heard that if you put mud on to wounds it helps them heal, but he won’t let me do that, either.

He bawls, “What’s your game? For crying out loud! I could lose my leg!”

Misery Guts then joins in with “Mr-Small-do-you-mind-I-am-trying-to-get-some-sleep!” to which Dad shouts something a bit rude and goes limping back to bed, and I lie awake all the rest of the night wondering what we’d do if he really lost his leg and thinking that I’ve got to finish this book, quick, and get some money in case he can’t clean windows any more.

So that’s the first crazy thing that happens. The second thing is that I meet Mum at Bunjy’s after school and she’s dead set on going off to buy some paint that will glow in the dark so’s we can paint the floorboard and Dad won’t be able to tread on it
by mistake any more. So we get this paint, it’s bright yellow, and we go rushing home with it all happy, and we have a cup of tea and a bit of a watch of the telly, ‘cos there’s this programme Mum really likes called
Carrot Tops
(it’s for kids, really. But it is quite funny). Then Mum sends me down the road for some fish and chips while she gets on and paints the floorboard.