like it’s only me then,’ said Fifty.
‘Let us know what’s going on,’ said Copper Pie.
I wasn’t that bothered. It’s not like her mum and dad were splitting up. It seemed simple to me. Patrick and the other twin (I can’t remember his name. I’ve only seen him about twice, and even then he might have been the other one as they both look the same) should move out and it would be fine again. Better, in fact, because of all the things Bee said about washing and money and telly.
At home I got on with buying the water bombs. I found a better site, selling a hundred for 99p. Billy bargain! All I needed was credit card details so I got Dad. He finishes early on Friday.
‘What’s this about then?’
He never knows what’s going on. One of us could leave home and he wouldn’t notice for a week. He’s always away somewhere doing something that nobody knows about (or wants to). I don’t mind because when he is here he hangs round with me, which Mum never does. Our family is sort of divided. Mum and Amy (my big sister) and Flo (my little sister) go and watch girly films and Dad and I watch action movies. They go shopping and we go off for the day, surfing (or skimboarding if there’s no swell). It’s great because there’s a long car journey – we listen to music, eat snacks we buy from the garage, and chat – and then we get changed into our wetsuits, and we stay in the sea till we’re blue and can’t grip the leash. Then it’s time for hot grub at the café on the beach and a hot chocolate. I fall asleep on the way home every time.
Dad’s asked me loads of times if I want to take someone but I like being with him on my own, although I might invite Jonno one day. Fifty’s too puny and Copper Pie can’t swim very well and Bee’s a girl . . .
‘Dad, what’s going on is that we’re having a stall at the fair.’
‘Great. You haven’t done that before, have you?’
‘You’re only allowed one in Year 6.’
‘That explains it,’ said Dad with a wink. ‘And what’s yours?’
‘Water bombs.’
‘Guaranteed to sell out,’ he said. ‘Top idea.’
‘And a “Bring and Buy”.’
‘Like the W. I.?’
I explained Bee’s swap stall.
‘All sounds good to me. Except it’s not really “Bring and Buy” if you don’t buy. It’s more like “Give and Take”.’
‘Whatever. But I need you to do some buying.’
Dad tapped in all his card details and asked for next-day delivery, which isn’t actually next day.
‘If you order before twelve noon you get the parcel the next day but after that it becomes the day after the next day.’
‘Shouldn’t it be called day-after-tomorrow delivery then?’ I asked.
‘I can’t be bothered to answer that,’ said Dad.
He always says that when I make a picky point. He says I’m pedantic. I thought that meant I had feet with toes, which I do, but it doesn’t. It means I like things to be correct.
We all went out for supper, and Amy’s spotty boyfriend came too. I didn’t say anything to him. He talked to Dad about rugby, which I hate. I told Mum about Bee’s dad. She looked really shocked and said I should have told her before, so she could ring and see how things were. I was starting to get the idea that perhaps it was more serious than I thought.
a week to go
THE BREAKFAST MENU
KEENER: Crispy bacon in two slices of crusty white bread in front of the computer.
AMY: Wholemeal bread, spread with Marmite, dipped in egg and fried. On a tray because teenagers can’t get up!
FLO: Fried egg and potato waffles in front of the telly.
MUM: A pot of tea in bed.
DAD: Fried egg, bacon, beans and toast, reading the paper.
Saturday mornings are good. Dad does the breakfast. It takes ages and we all get different food at different times delivered to different places. We stay in pyjamas until he suddenly realises we’re going to be late and then there’s a mad rush to get ready for swimming (me) and ballet (Flo). Amy and Mum have a lie-in.
On the way to the pool I texted Copper Pie to see if he wanted to meet up later in the park.
The reply said: COME OVERHEER.
I hadn’t been to his for a while. He’d rather come to mine and I’d rather not go to his. His mum shouts at him. And doesn’t talk to me, unless I’m in the way.
Copper Pie was kicking a ball against his garage door. It was so loud I could hear it before I turned into his street. I joined in.
‘I’ve got to look after Charlie. Mum’s going to the supermarket,’ he said. I wouldn’t leave Charlie with him. He’s hardly babysitter material.
‘In here, you two!’ Copper Pie’s mum shouted from the kitchen. We went straight in. Some people have to be obeyed.
‘Charlie’s having his nap. I need you to stay in the house while I do the shopping and when I come back you can have a bag of crisps each. If he wakes up, go and get him and be nice until I get back. If Dad gets back before I do you can go to the park. Understood?’
I nodded.
‘Yes, Mum.’
She was gone. See, she doesn’t bother with ‘Hello, how are you?’ It’s all instructions.
‘Where’s your dad then?’
‘Gone out with Bee’s dad.’
‘So you’ve seen Bee’s dad then?’
‘Nope. I didn’t see any dads last night, or trainers, but this morning Mum said Dad had gone off early to watch a game over in Tyndall with a mate – so it must be Bee’s dad.’ Copper Pie paused and made a moody face. ‘He usually watches me play.’
‘What shall we do?’ I said. We used to say that all the time. No one ever had a good idea. Jonno changed all that. Or maybe Tribe did.
‘We could get the guns out. Aim from my window and —’
‘Yet me out!’ It was Charlie’s voice, coming through the baby monitor. He’s three, not really a baby. He can talk quite well, except he can’t say Ls, Rs or THs. They’re either Ys, Ws or Vs.
‘Yet me out!’
‘We’d better go,’ I said.
‘No
