announced Dad, clicking the keys. “I’m taking Christmas crackers into the twenty-first century.”
On the screen, a cartoon cracker snapped open and out fluttered a joke.
“That’s the joke about the monkey needing the toilet,” gasped Nat. “Which means Darius flipping Bagley made this website for you. I knew YOU couldn’t do it. You don’t know anything about computers.”
“I do,” said Dad defensively. “I designed the whole thing.”
“Where’s this video?” snapped Mum. Dad moved the mouse over to a drawing of a large pile of rubbish.
“It’s here in this area called The Jokeheap,” explained Dad excitedly. “I can put all sorts of funny things here. Darius showed me how. It’s like my comedy scrapbook.”
“Or a dump,” offered Mum, “where visitors can rummage about in the rubbish of your mind.”
Dad clicked a bit more and fresh images rose from the rubble.
“Look, I put a video of a dog who sings the national anthem in there, and the one where that boy tries to skateboard on ice. And, um—”
“AND THE VIDEO OF ME DANCING AND SHOUTING AT YOU!” shrieked Nat in horror as her face rose up from the jokey rubbish dump.
“Oh no, not all of it,” corrected Dad. “Only the funny bits. Which is mostly you jumping up and down and shouting – in a cute way, obviously.”
“People are watching …” said Video Nat, “… can’t you be normal?”
A memory struggled to the surface of Nat’s brain as Video Nat ran around smacking herself and making silly noises. Why were those words so familiar?
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” said Dad. “I’ll take it down. Anyway, not many people will have seen it yet. Look here, I’ve got a counter on my website. It shows I’ve only had ten hits. And five of those were me, checking on how many hits I had.”
Mum put her head in her hands. “It only takes one person to see it and share it,” she said. Dad looked blank. Mum pushed him off the laptop and tapped some keys.
“Look,” she said. “Here in the comments bit.”
“I never read the comments,” admitted Dad, “because people can be very rude about my jokes.”
“Shut up and listen,” said Mum. “There’s a comment from ‘CatLover 34543’ who says:
All the jokes here are rubbish, but I love the video of the funny little ‘Can’t you be normal’ girl. I’m sharing this with EVERYONE I know. And I know loads of people.
“No problemo, I’ll just email her and ask her to delete it,” said Dad. “She seems like a nice person. She loves cats.”
“Don’t you know ANYTHING, Dad?” said Nat. “I had this talk with you about online safety, didn’t I?”
“Umm …” said Dad.
“Tell him, Mum,” said Nat, throwing her arms up in despair.
“Once something is on the Internet, it’s ALWAYS THERE,” said Mum, as if she was explaining something to a small and particularly dense child. “Surely even you can remember that?”
“And now loads of people have copied the video and shared it all over town,” said Nat. Suddenly, with a sick horror, she realised where she had heard those words. In the shopping centre. From COMPLETE STRANGERS. That video must have spread far and wide.
“I’m doomed. I can never go out again!” she said tearfully. “And yes, Dad, you ARE a complete idiot.”
“Stop hiding in your room,” said Bad News Nan one morning, popping her head round the bedroom door and scattering biscuit crumbs as she spoke. “You’ll get rickets without enough sunlight. Terrible, is rickets. You get horrible bendy legs. Doctors thought I had it once, but turns out my stockings were too tight.”
Nat wriggled further under the covers.
Bad News Nan sat heavily on the bed and looked around for something to munch. When she couldn’t see anything, she put her false teeth back in her pocket, as she only ever used them for eating.
The dog, who was hiding with Nat, emerged from under the bed and started nibbling at Nan’s trouser pocket.
He loved sucking her false teeth.
They were so tasty.
Nat peeked out from under the covers. The dog with Nan’s teeth WAS hilarious, after all.
“You had a great-auntie who suffered with her nerves,” Bad News Nan droned on, not noticing the snuffling dog. “Great-auntie Primula. She took to her bed one Christmas after her pudding set fire to the living-room curtains. Refused to move out of her room again, even when she got the boils.”
“Boils?” asked Nat, interested.
“Pustules, really. Oooh they were big enough to make the doctors weep,” said Bad News Nan with relish. “Record-breaking, they were. She made the local papers with them. People felt sorry for her, but not me. I think she just liked the attention.”
Nat wasn’t sure that anyone would want to be famous for having pustules, but she didn’t want Nan to think she was trying to get attention. She was in bed trying to AVOID attention.
“I’m getting up now, Nan,” she said, just as the dog made a grab for the gnashers. He ran off with them clattering around in his mouth. Nan said a rude word and leapt up as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very quickly, and the pair of them thudded down the stairs.
It’s not fair, thought Nat, getting dressed. I’m way less bonkers than anyone else in this family, and it’s ME people are laughing at …
When Nat at last emerged from her room, she was persuaded to go shopping with Mum and Bad News Nan. Mum wanted to buy vegetables, because Dad never bought any apart from potatoes, and Bad News Nan needed some ointment. When Nat asked why she needed the ointment, Nan told her. And then Nat felt a bit sick and wished she hadn’t.
In the shopping centre, Nat pulled the strings on her hoodie’s hood so tight around her face
