Secret Meeting. Jean Ure

She said she was going upstairs, and we were to stay in the sitting room until Mum came to collect me. Well! Quite honestly, we were so faint and wobbly from all the crashing about we’d done, chasing after the balls she’d whacked, we just sank down side by side on the sofa – a big shiny water melon and a little trembly stick of celery – and watched videos all afternoon. One of them was Candyfloss, which was the very first Harriet Chance I ever read! I know the film practically off by heart, word for word. If ever we did it as a school production, I could play the part of Candy, no problem! I would already know all my lines. Except that Candy has bright blue eyes “the colour of periwinkles”, and blonde hair which “froths and bubbles”, whereas I have brown eyes, more the colour of mud, I would say, and mousy flat hair, not a bubble in sight; so probably no one would ever cast me as Candy, more is the pity. But it doesn’t really bother me; I wouldn’t want to be an actor. I am going to be a writer, like Harriet!

      RACHEL’S DIARY (THURSDAY)

      I am just SO SICK of baby-sitting. Mum says, “For heaven’s sake, Rachel! It’s only a few weeks in the year.” She also points out that I am being well paid for it, which is perfectly true. Mum and Dad pay me more than Jem gets paid for stacking shelves, AND I don’t have to take fares out of it. Or food. But as I said to Mum, there is more to life than just money.

      Mum pretended to be very surprised when I said this. Her eyebrows flew up and she went all sarcastic, saying, “Oh, really?” in this silly artificial voice. “Well, that’s nice to know. You could certainly have fooled me!” A reference, I presume, to Christmas, when I was moaning – QUITE JUSTIFIABLY – about Gran giving me a box of bath salts. Bath salts, I ask you! LAVENDER bath salts. And a titchy little box, at that.

      Mum was quite cross. She reminded me that it was the thought that counted, to which I retorted that in Gran’s case the thought obviously hadn’t counted very much. Mum then told me not to be so grasping, but I don’t see that it WAS grasping, considering Gran spends a small fortune going off on cruises every year, and that me and Annie are her only and dearly beloved grandchildren.

      I mean, quite honestly, I wouldn’t have minded so much if it had been something I wanted. But who in their right mind would pollute their bath water with stinky, flowery scents? Especially LAVENDER. Lavender’s an old lady smell!

      Anyway, that was then, and this is now. And right now I would rather be stacking shelves with Jem than stuck here in charge of a couple of horrible brats. Well, Annie is a horrible brat. She’s plump, and she’s spoilt! Her friend Megan isn’t so bad, it’s just that her mum is seriously weird, like some kind of pathetic old hen, always fussing and bothering. DON’T LET HER DO THIS, DON’T LET HER DO THAT.

      Plus she has this thing about computers, like the minute you log on someone’s going to leap out and grab you. At least, thank goodness, Mum and Dad have always been pretty relaxed about trusting us to be sensible. I mean, how can you ever LEARN to be sensible unless they let you just get on with things? But Mum says if Mrs Hooper doesn’t want Megan going into chatrooms, then Annie has to promise not to take her into chatrooms, and I have to keep an eye on them both to make sure they’re obeying the rules. How am I supposed to do this? TIE THEM UP AND HANDCUFF THEM??? Mum says don’t be ridiculous; just pop your head round the door every now and then and check they’re OK. But I don’t see why I should have to!

      “Because it’s what you’re being paid for,” says Mum. “It’s what I’d have to do, if I were here.”

      So why isn’t she here? Because she wants to take all of her holiday in one great lump and go off to Spain for the summer. She seems to be under the impression that’s what I want, too.

      “Just think of those nice friends you made last year,” she oozes.

      Hm … I’m thinking of them. One in particular. The blond one. Kerry. He was gorgeous! But who’s to say he’ll be there again this year? In any case, what about Ty? He’s gorgeous, too! And he’s stacking shelves in the supermarket … I might drop by there tomorrow.

      Jem says she and him are on the same shift. She says that sometimes they even stand and stock the same shelves together … I’m just glad she doesn’t fancy him!!! Well, she does, but she’s got Kieron. Otherwise I’d be tearing my hair out! I think tomorrow I’ll definitely go down there. Just to suss things out. The two dwarfs can manage on their own for an hour or so. I mean, they’re nearly twelve years old, for heaven’s sake! That’s quite old enough to start taking responsibility for themselves.

      They’re downstairs at the moment, watching a video. Moaning and whining because I made them go into the garden and run about. Left to themselves, they’d never move anywhere at more than snail’s pace. The little fat thing is all squashy, like an overripe plum. The other one is so skinny she looks like a puff of wind would blow her over. They don’t get enough exercise! If I had my way I’d make them do two laps of the hockey field every morning, before school. I think I’ll get them running round the garden again tomorrow, before I go and see Jem. That way, they’ll be too EXHAUSTED to get up to mischief.

      Even if they’re not, who cares? I’m sick to death of them!

      

      Mum came to collect me at four o’clock. Annie and me were still collapsed on the sofa, watching videos.

      “You look as if you’ve had a busy day,” said Mum.

      I couldn’t decide if that was her idea of a joke, or if she was being serious. Rachel was there. She said, “I made them go into the garden and get some exercise.”

      “Good for you!” said Mum.

      “She only did it because she wanted to practise hitting things,” said Annie.

      “Excuse me,” said Rachel, “I did it because you need to lose weight.”

      “Megan doesn’t need to lose weight! If you’ve made her lose weight she’ll probably disappear down the plughole next time she has a bath, and it’ll be all your fault.”

      “I just hope they behaved themselves,” said Mum. “It’s very good of you, Rachel, to keep an eye on them.”

      “She’s paid for it!” shrilled Annie.

      “People are paid for emptying dustbins,” said Mum, “but I wouldn’t want to do it.”

      “It doesn’t need any skill,” said Annie. “You just have to be a big bully, is all.”

      Mum laughed. “Well! Sooner Rachel than me. I trust Megan hasn’t been too much bother?”

      “It’s not Megan,” said Rachel, looking hard at Annie. Annie stuck her tongue out. “It’s her,” said Rachel.

      As Mum and me walked back through the Estate, Mum said that Annie was obviously “a bit of a handful”.

      Of course, I immediately leapt to the defence of my best friend.

      “It’s Rachel,” I said.