Out of the way, there’s a good girl!”
I hastily skipped round the other side of the table. Dad hates to be crowded when he’s in the kitchen. Mum says he’s a bit of a prima donna.
“Do you think I could go to acting classes?” I said.
Dad said, “What sort of acting classes? Hand me the salt, would you?”
“Acting classes,” I said. “Drama. At a drama school.”
“Pepper!”
“It would give me poise,” I said.
“Poise, eh? Taste this!” Dad thrust a spoon in my face. “How is it? Not too hot?”
“It’s scrummy,” I said. “The thing is, if I went to acting classes—”
“Bit more salt, I reckon.”
“It would give me confidence, Dad!”
“Didn’t know you lacked it,” said Dad.
“I do,” I said. “That’s why I want to go. So could I, Dad? Please?”
“It’s not up to me,” said Dad. “Ask your mum.”
I should have known! It’s what he always says. Dad and me are really great mates, and he is wonderful for having cuddles with, but whenever it’s anything serious he always, always says ask your mum. It’s like Mum is the career woman, she is the big breadwinner, so she has to make all the decisions.
Well, of course, Mum didn’t get in till late, and as usual she was worn to a frazzle and just wanted to go and soak in the bath.
“Darling, I’m exhausted!” she said. “It’s been the most ghastly day. Let’s talk at the weekend. We’ll sit down and have a long chat, I promise.”
“But, Mum,” I said, “I need to talk now.” Saffy would be cross if I didn’t have an answer for her. She wanted us to be enrolled by the weekend. “All it is,” I said, “I just want to know if I could go to drama classes.”
It is easy to see how Mum has got ahead in business. In spite of being exhausted, she immediately wanted all the details, such as where, and who with, and how much. Fortunately Saffy can be quite efficient when she puts her mind to it. She had told me where to find the advert in the Yellow Pages, plus she had written down all the things that Mum would want to know.
“It’s right near where Saffy lives,” I said. “I could go back with her after school on Fridays, and I thought perhaps you could come and pick me up afterwards. Maybe. I mean, if you weren’t too busy. If you didn’t have to work late. And then on Saturdays—”
“We could manage Saturdays between us,” said Mum. “If you’ve really set your heart on it.”
One of the best things about my mum is, when you do get to talk to her she doesn’t keep you on tenterhooks while she hums and hahs and thinks things over. She makes up her mind right there and then. It’s something I really like about her. Especially when she makes up her mind the way I want her to! Though considering Pip has his own computer and about nine million computer games, and Petal has her own TV and her own CD player, and I don’t have any of these things (mainly because I don’t particularly want them) Mum probably thought that a few drama classes weren’t so very much to ask. She is quite fair, on the whole, except for spoiling Pip rotten on account of him being the youngest. And of course a boy. I really do think boys get treated better than girls! Petal doesn’t necessarily agree. She says that if Mum spoils Pip, then Dad spoils me. But he only spoils me with food. He’d spoil Petal with food if she’d let him, but she won’t, so she only has herself to blame.
Anyway, Mum said that on Friday she would leave work early and come with me so that I could get myself enrolled. When she said that, I just nearly burst at the seams! I thought that for Mum to actually come with me was worth far more than if she’d bought me a dozen computers or TV sets. Mum works so hard and such long hours, she almost never gets to do anything with us. I couldn’t resist a bit of boasting, on the phone to Saffy.
“Mum is going to come with me,” I said.
“Yes, well, she’d have to,” said Saffy. “Mine’s coming, too. You have to have your parents’ permission.” I couldn’t really expect Saffy to understand how momentous it was, Mum leaving work early just for me. Saffy’s mum only works part-time, and then all she does is answer someone’s telephone. She’s not high-powered like my mum! She is very nice, though. The sort of mum you read about in books. The sort that cooks and sews and all that stuff. Kind of… old-fashioned. Though I don’t think Saffy sees it that way. She thinks it’s quite normal to have a mum who’s there in the morning when she leaves for school and there again in the afternoon when she gets back. She once told me that she found it a bit peculiar, me having a dad who stayed home to look after us.
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