Worry Magic (8 page)

Dad clocked everything in two seconds flat. His eyebrows went into one long, angry caterpillar, and he made a squawky noise.

‘He's got Henners!' he yelled.

He started bounding over.

‘It's OK, Dad!' I cried. ‘I'll catch him!' I lunged at Zac, my heart booming in my head. I caught Zac's sleeve, but he tugged away from me.

‘No, I wanna show Mercy my mousey!' Zac cried, scooting past me towards his sister.

Mercedes had her back to us, lost in a frenzy of handstands. She was counting each time she flipped her legs up  … 

‘59, 60, 61, 62  … '

Zac shoved Henners right in her face just when she was upside down for number 63.

Of course, she screamed, and tumbled down in a big pile.

Landing right on top of Henners, squashing him flat.

Poor Henners! He staggered out from under Mercedes, making small, sad squeaks. Dad tried to nab him, but somehow Henners slunk through his fingers and hobbled under the holly bush in the flowerbed.

Me, Dad and Kyle all got down on our knees to peer under the bush, but it was so thick and dark we couldn't see a thing.

‘Was he limping? He was, wasn't he?' growled Dad, lying flat on his tummy to get a better look. ‘He'd better not be hurt!'

Then Mum came flying across the lawn.

‘Oh, what's happened?' she cried.

Dad knelt up and narrowed his eyes at her.

‘YOU let that child play with Henners, that's what!' He fired his words out like cold bullets.

‘No, I never did!' yelped Mum. ‘I DID NOT!'

Oh no, and they were off  … 

My tummy lurched, and panic zinged through me. My throat suddenly felt like it was sealing up and I had to pant some deep breaths.

What if Henners was really hurt – and all because of Mum and her rubbish childminding? Dad was going to go bonkers-berserk at her  … 

Ooh, my blood was rushing through my head, and I felt cold and hot at the same time.

‘Hen-n-n-ers  … ' I called. My voice sounded stuttery and odd.

I was still on all fours on the lawn, but I felt myself suddenly sway. My legs and arms buckled under me, and I pancaked down – splat – onto the wet ground.

I tasted mud as my eyes closed.

It was the shortest dream – with melting colours and just little peeks at things: moon faces. Mum and Dad talking calmly. Henners scampering, and then sitting on his back legs, lit up, and glowing bright white in the darkness. Mercedes and Zac going out of the door with flashing torches  … 

As I came to, I could hear Mercedes and Zac shrieking excitedly as if Christmas had suddenly come.

‘Cwourtney got deaded!' yelled Zac, skipping around me.

I flicked open my eyes and looked up. Three pale faces. Like moons against the sky in the floodlight.

Mum, Dad, Kyle.

Moon faces  … 

I pulled myself up on my elbows. But had the rest of the dream come true? Please, magic – work, work!

‘There you go now,' Dad pulled me gently to my feet, but kept hold of my arms. ‘You're OK.'

‘Courts?' whispered Mum, her voice wavering.

‘Yeah, I'm completely fine, Mum,' I said, brushing mud off my hands.

Mum hugged me to her, but I could tell she was mouthing something to Dad over my head, and then he mouthed some stuff back. I couldn't catch what they were saying, but – hey – at least they were calm. Another point to the magic!

‘Right,' said Dad in his bossiest voice. ‘Kyle, please stay out here to look for Henners. He'll be in the garden somewhere.'

Kyle looked ahead with blank eyes, like he wanted to say
yes sir, no sir
again, but didn't dare.

‘And you, young lady,' Dad said to me. ‘Fireman's lift to the sofa – hop on.' And he grabbed me, swung me up over his shoulder, and carried me towards the house.

‘Awww, I wanna carry!' whined Mercedes, running alongside us. ‘Can I have a go?'

‘Now, Mercy and Zac,' said Mum, very firmly, guiding Zac towards the back door too. ‘We're going to meet your mummy at her work. I'm going to phone her right now  …  exciting!'

‘Yay, Mummy!' cried Mercedes.

‘Naa,' yelled Zac, dropping to his knees onto the patio.

‘But, Zackie, you can use the special torch from the toy box to walk through the dark. It makes red AND blue light,' said Mum. Ah, she was learning  … 

Zac put his head on one side. Then he jumped up and jogged on the spot. ‘Ya, ya, ya!'

Phew!

Dad plonked me down on the sofa, covered me up, and rushed out again to help hunt for Henners. I wanted to help too, but I knew they wouldn't let me.

So I lay there watching Mum phoning Lou, and then rummaging in the cardboard box in the hall for the torch and batteries with Zac and Mercedes.

Mum cooed around me a bit.

And then they left.

OMG, they actually LEFT. I could see the torch flashing as they went down the path in the dark.

More gold stars for the worry magic.

I stayed in the lounge by myself, tickling my nose with the end of my plait and worrying like mad about Henner's leg. Oh please make it OK! I'd seen him scampering in my dream, so surely his leg wasn't broken. And I'd dreamt him glowing white, like a light was shining on him in the dark – so that must mean they'd find him with their phone lights. The magic had fixed all my other worries, so it would sort this too. It would.

But Dad was ages.

And ages.

I got up and went to the back door. Dad and Kyle were coming through the gate.

‘Were you looking for him out in the
street
?' I gasped. I was sure Henners wouldn't have climbed over our high fences  … 

Kyle just grimaced, and pushed past me into the house.

‘There's a hole over by the fence,' said Dad. ‘Kyle saw him run through it full tilt, so his leg isn't busted, at least. But we've looked all up the street, and there's no sign of him.'

I gulped, suddenly remembering something. Oh no – Henners must have got through the hole that Derek dug!

I bit my lip.

No way was I telling Dad that, though.

‘God knows how the darn hole got there. Must be foxes  …  Or maybe a
dog?
' finished Dad, darkly.

Uh oh.

‘Definitely foxes  …  or maybe rabbits,' I said, quickly. ‘And I expect Henners'll come home soon – for some nosh.' Of course he would. Henners loved his food – he was a total pig face.

Dad nodded, but he just kept on standing there in the doorway not coming in, with his shoulders all hunched up.

Oh poor Dad  … 

I leant my head on his arm, tears in my eyes. He let me stay there for a moment. But then he pulled away, his face twitching.

‘Yeah  …  well  …  I'm sure he'll show up,' he said in a claggy voice. ‘Come on – don't you start fretting again.'

He bustled me inside, grabbed a beer, and we sat in front of the telly, which was on some programme about cars. But I could see Dad wasn't really watching. And he kept rubbing his tummy, like he always does when he's upset.

Oh, it had all gone so wrong. And it was my fault! The worry magic had fixed everything I'd worried about – even Henners' leg. But I'd FORGOTTEN to worry about Derek's big hole. How could I have been so dim? I hadn't worried
properly
enough.

Mum came back in the front door, just then.

My tummy fluttered. Was Dad going to start yelling about the hole?

But he just got to his feet again.

‘Going to nip out with some raisins,' he said, quietly. ‘Maybe Henns will've had second thoughts about his Great Escape by now.'

Mum just nodded. Calmly. Without nagging at him or anything.

I was a bit amazed.

They were both still being nice. But the magic probably hadn't worn off yet.

‘I'll help you look, Dad!' I said, hopping up.

‘Oh no you don't – bed for you,' said Mum.

Dad nodded. So I went to my room, but I didn't get my PJs on. I wiped my misted-up window and squinted out into the dark. I could see Dad's shadow, and the light on his phone moving along the street as he looked under bushes. Then a cat darted across the road. Was that naughty Puddy-cat?

Oh Henners, run away fast from all those cats out there!

I threw myself down onto my bed.

I needed to worry really
thoroughly
this time, so if the magic came it would fix
everything
.

And I'd had an idea  … 

I reckoned I'd worry much better if I WROTE my worries down in a list. That way I could make sure I didn't miss any out. Yeah, it could be like playing Worry Wig, but on paper – I just had too many worries to keep track of now. And maybe I could keep the paper inside the Worry Wig?

No, there was a better place for the list  … 

I found the Worry Wig under my pillow and pulled it on, like I used to with Gran. Then I grabbed a felt tip, got my letter to Gran out of its envelope, and wrote on the back of the letter –

Er  …  I chewed the end of my pen. What else? I had to think of everything that could go wrong. I couldn't forget anything or the worry magic would forget it too – and a bad thing might happen.

Then I wrote ‘marmite crisps flavour' next to that worry, and ‘custard cream flavour' next to another one. But the joke didn't make me smile when it was me cracking it rather than Gran. It just didn't work without her there to pretend to eat them up.

I pulled the Worry Wig off cos it was making my head too hot and itchy, and immediately heard Dad's cough downstairs.

I hopped straight out onto the landing.

Dad was in the hall, taking his coat off. He looked up and spotted me at the top of the stairs  … 

‘No luck yet – but you get off to bed now,' he called up.

‘But did you beam your light right under all the bushes?' I asked. Why wasn't the part of my dream about Henners glowing in a beam of light coming true?

‘Yes, everywhere. But don't you worry. He'll be back for breakfast – it's fine.' He was using that fake, bright voice people use to calm small children. I knew it so wasn't fine.

But I scuttled back to bed, trying not to cry, and carried on with my Worry Wig List.

I hoped I hadn't left anything unworried about, but I really couldn't think of anything else.

All I needed now was for the magic to come and get Henners back.

I lay there, screwing up my face, trying to force the special, panicky, spinning feeling to come on. But really, I knew it wouldn't work. I'd tried before, and I couldn't MAKE the magic happen.

I sighed. The magic obviously didn't want to help me find Henners. I knew I hadn't worried very well, but it could still help me now. Why was it keeping away?

Well, I'd have to go out and look for Henners myself then.

I snatched the old Winnie the Pooh torch that used to be Kyle's from my bedside drawer, and slid downstairs. Mum was in their room, and Dad was in the lounge, so I got out to the back without anyone bossing me back upstairs.

I pulled on my wellies and old coat and nipped out.

The street was quiet – just the odd car and dog-walker. I walked bent over, shining the torch as far as I could under all the hedges, just hoping I would spot a flash of white in the beam. I tramped along right to the end of our road, calling Henners again and again. Which was stupid, seeing as he was a rat and not a dog, and didn't even know his dumb name.

But there wasn't a ratty tail in sight.

I'd got to the crossroad near the pool. I was about to turn back when suddenly I heard a voice I knew.

Lois?

And then a loud, shrieky laugh.

Bex?

I stepped behind the bus shelter to hide, and watched them walk away up the opposite street, arm in arm. They had their backs to me, but I saw that Lois had her lemon-jelly swimming bag over her shoulder.

No way. Lois had gone swimming on her birthday after all.

But with Bex instead of ME.

I went home, flew straight upstairs, got right underneath my covers, turned off my light, and cried and cried
again
.

I just COULD NOT believe that Lois had done this. I knew I'd ditched her at the last minute. But why did she have to invite Bex to go
swimming
? It was OUR special thing. Just ours. And now Bex would probably want to come each time.

I wiped my eyes on my Worry Wig.

And what if Lois had a better time swimming with Bex? Maybe they'd both got
stupid
matching bikinis to go with their
stupid
matching lip balm.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

I lay there, wide awake, for ages.

Puddy came and lay right on my tummy, blinking at me and padding the covers with fat happy paws. He was too heavy, but I let him stay there.

‘Oh, Puddy, at least
you're
my friend, aren't you?' I whispered, kissing his head.

Mum crept in to say goodnight, and I just yawned like I was sleepy. But I wasn't. All my worries were churning like my head was a washing machine. I couldn't stop thinking about everything over and over. Henners, Lois, Bex, Mum and Dad, Gran  …  and the magic not coming.

I sat up and put my light on. I found Gran's letter and added to my Worry Wig List –

I dropped the letter into my drawer, and turned my light off again.

But I was squirming, turning and waking up all night long.

In the morning, it was a school day, but I didn't get dressed. I went straight down to check Henners' cage in my nightclothes.

The cage door was still swinging open.

He wasn't back.

Dad had already gone to work, and Mum and Kyle were all long-faced and quiet.

I felt sick, I was worrying so much. How could I go to school when Henners was
lost,
maybe forever? I wouldn't be able to concentrate. And I needed to be at home so I could be ready to worry-magic things better – IF the magic ever decided to come again. I didn't want anything
else
to go wrong.

And I'd see Lois and Bex at school too. I just knew Bex would just go on and on about how fun swimming had been – she was going to be SO cowbag-annoying about it.
And
I was worried that if I saw Lois, I might say something cross to her, and then she definitely WOULD like Bex more.

So I waited until Kyle went upstairs. Then I started acting up.

‘Ow, Mum, my tummy really hurts. I don't feel very well.'

I sagged down on the kitchen stool and looked at her with big eyes. Performance of my life.

‘Oh dear, maybe you've got a bug,' said Mum, feeling my forehead. ‘Or are you anxious about Gran again?'

I started to nod.

‘Yes  …  Dad and I were saying last night that if this continues we really should get Dr Prop to refer you to a paediatrician.'

I stopped nodding.

‘No, it's probably just a little tummy bug,' I said, quickly.

Mum stroked my face. ‘OK – maybe a day of quiet resting would do you good. You get back into bed. I'll ring the sanctuary and tell them I can only come in for an hour this morning.'

So I went back to my room. Kyle walked past my door and looked in at me, still in my PJs.

‘You skiving off?' he said.

‘I'm ill – bad tummy.'

He gave me a look like he didn't believe me at all.

But Mum looked after me loads. She brought me ginger ale and dry toast for my tummy. I was really hungry, but I had to pretend I was too ill to eat in case she got suspicious.

I heard her on the phone in the hall once, and I crept onto the landing to have a sly listen. I just needed to check she wasn't cooking up any more plans that would wind Dad up. But it was only her friend, Linze.

Then, as soon as she left for the sanctuary, I hopped straight downstairs. I scoffed down one of Dad's homemade Smarties cookies. Then I put my wellies on and hunted all around the garden for Henners again. No luck  … 

I wanted to look out in the street too, but I didn't dare in case someone saw me and sent one of those truant-police people round to arrest me.

I went back in, but I felt strange and restless. The house was looking really jumble-saley
again
, so I passed the time by tidying up and straightening stuff. I hoped it'd help get Dad a bit happier, at least.

I even sorted out his spice rack. Mum had put the jars back wonky, and she'd left a few lids half on – and I knew Dad'd grumble like mad next time he was making one of his curries. So I wiped each jar and put them all back in alphabetical order. There  …  good. All tidy for him now.

Then I went and sat on the loo next to Henners' cage. Someone had left the bathroom window open – maybe Dad had done it, hoping Henners might come home by himself. But how would we ever know if he did? He might be a naughty rat and sneak in, eat his raisins and then hip-hop out again.

Then I remembered something I'd seen on a detective programme on the telly once.

Yes!

I got some flour and sprinkled it on the windowsill and on the floor in front of his cage – along with a pile of raisins next to his cosy bed to tempt him in. Now we'd be able to see his little pawprints in the flour if he came in.

Ha  … 

And then we'd know he was still alive  … 

Ugh – my tummy turned. Please stay alive, Henners.

And Gran  … 

I shuddered, and hurried away from those nasty thoughts into the kitchen. I grabbed a four-pack of Dad's diet chocolate mousses, and went to my room to watch any old telly – CBeebies and any baby stuff as long as it was happy and bright. I gulped down three of the mousses and hid the pots at the bottom of my bin.

Then I actually felt sick – for real.

Mum came back. She popped up to check on me, but I pretended to be asleep. Then when she'd gone, I whipped out onto the landing again to listen to what she was doing. Just in case she'd brought a monkey or maybe some actual
elephants
back from the sanctuary, or some other duh-ness that needed worrying about. But I could hear she was just washing up, all innocent.

I hopped back to bed. It was weird really. Mum thought she was staying home to check on me. But she didn't realise I was checking up on her too!

It was a long day.

The rain pattered at the windows. I flumped out on my bed, messing with the Worry Wig, twisting all its fur and giving it spiky hair-dos, as my mind fretted over stuff.

Puddy-cat stretched out next to me, upside down and fast asleep.

I knew how he felt. Just so done in and exhausted.

Worrying was hard work – there was so much that could go wrong all the time, and I had to think of everything.

All my fiddling had made the Worry Wig matted. I tried to comb through the knots with my fingers, but the fur was way too tangled up.

I threw it down on my bed, and went downstairs to get some water and check the flour. No pawprints.

I let Mum make me more dry toast, and slept in a heap on the sofa in front of the fire.

After school-time I got a text from Lois.

Hope ur feeling better, babes? xx

But I didn't reply.