Jacqueline Wilson's Happy Holidays Read online

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Holidays by Jacqueline Wilson

  Holidays by Nick Sharratt

  Tracy Beaker’s Big Day Out

  My Summer Holiday

  Did You Know . . .?

  Buried Alive!

  Hetty Feather’s Holiday

  Quick Holiday Quiz

  What’s the Country?

  Beauty’s Holiday

  Super Summer Recipes

  Gemma’s Holiday

  Ideas for a Rainy Summer Day

  Our Free Day Out

  About the Author

  Also by Jacqueline Wilson

  Copyright

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  How will you spend your summer holiday? Will you be swimming in the sea? Eating lots of ice cream? Or relaxing in the garden with a brilliant book?

  Jacqueline Wilson’s Happy Holidays is packed with fantastic summery puzzles, activities, facts and stories, including Buried Alive! – plus a brand-new tale from Jacqueline. Join Tracy, Hetty and all your other favourite characters for the best holiday ever!

  HOLIDAYS

  by Jacqueline Wilson

  I write a great deal about favourite holidays in Jacky Daydream and My Secret Diary. I loved going to the seaside, and the two most memorable holidays of my childhood were spent in Bournemouth and Newquay. I still like going to the seaside now – though the sea feels so freezing cold that I haven’t got the courage to go in swimming any more. I like swimming in warm sea now! I recently had a fantastic holiday in Barbados where the turquoise water was just like jumping into a bath.

  However, I think my all-time favourite holiday venue is Hay-on-Wye, which is nowhere near the sea. It’s a tiny Victorian town in a valley on the Welsh Borders. It’s magical countryside. There are gorgeous wild ponies up in the Black Mountains and you can see for miles if you stagger up the nearest bluff. The river Wye runs beside the town and there are lovely riverside walks and a beautiful spot called the Warren for picnics and paddles in the water.

  Hay has fantastic restaurants and pubs and a wonderful ice-cream parlour, so I always go home feeling very fat. But the best thing of all about Hay-on-Wye is the thirty second-hand bookshops – my idea of bliss!

  HOLIDAYS

  by Nick Sharratt

  I had a lot of great holidays when I was a boy, but if I had to choose I’d pick the first time we went camping, when I was about to turn eleven.

  We started off with a few days in the Lake District where we pitched our brand-new tents (one for Mum and Dad, one for my sisters and one for my brother and me) on a campsite overlooking Derwentwater, and I just couldn’t believe how spectacular the view was, with the glistening lake and the mountains in the background. Then we drove over to Northumberland, visited Hadrian’s Wall and had a lazy day or two by the sea.

  Finally we went to stay with some friends who had a cottage in the Yorkshire Dales, but not big enough for everyone, so the boys still slept in the tent. I’d thought the lakes were impressive, but for me Swaledale was complete paradise, a truly beautiful, utterly peaceful valley with grass so green it was almost luminous, hidden away like a secret among the wild moors. We went for long walks alongside the river Swale or scrabbled up the side valleys to cook fry-ups, swim in rock pools and peer into the mouths of the ruined lead mine tunnels up there. I fell completely in love with the place and it’s still my absolute favourite destination for a holiday!

  WHERE ARE YOU going for your summer holiday? I’m jetting off to America. I’m going to Disneyland. I’m going on all the really scary rides, especially the one where you whizz up in a rocket and spin round and round. I’m going to go on that twice. I’m going to hold hands with Mickey Mouse and fly in the Dumbo plane. I love that film Dumbo, especially the bit where Dumbo twines trunks with his mum. I’d do that with my mum. If I had a trunk. If my mum ever came to see me.

  She’s a famous actress in Hollywood. She is. That’s why she shoved me in this Children’s Home. She’s way too busy to look after me. I understand. I do really. Anyway, I’ll get to see her on my summer holiday, won’t I? That’s where I’d like to go. Only they’re so mean and boring in the Children’s Home. They won’t take us anywhere decent for a holiday. You’d think kids in Homes would get really great holidays seeing as we’re deprived. Huh! Guess where we’re really going? To this boring boring boring outdoor activity centre in the country. It’s where we always go.

  We do stuff like canoeing and abseiling and pony trekking. I thought it would be great but last year they kept picking on me. It wasn’t fair. Just because I gave Justine and Louise’s canoe a tweeny little flip with my paddles. I was just experimenting. They did the most amazing submarine canoeing before they surfaced, spluttering.

  I got into even more trouble when we did abseiling. I couldn’t understand why Weedy Peter and some of the little kids acted like they thought it was seriously scary. It was too easy-peasy for me. So I tried turning a somersault and descending upside down. It was mega-great – until I got in a tangle and ended tied up in knots. I was just being inventive. I didn’t see why they had to read the riot act.

  They had serious doubts about letting me do pony trekking. I promised to be as good as gold – and I was. I had this amazing black pony called Nightmare. I really loved her. I groomed her for hours, brushing her mane and her tail. I didn’t even make a fuss about mucking out her stable.

  I was the best rider. I really was. ‘Look at Tracy,’ they said. But after a while they stopped looking at me so I decided to liven things up a bit. I knew Nightmare was bored with all that prissy trotting. I thought it was time for a little gallop. So I dug my heels in and Nightmare hurtled forward, so fast that I shot off her back and ended up head first in a nettle-patch. That was a real nightmare.

  So I’m not exactly looking forward to returning. And the guy who runs the centre probably won’t be too thrilled when he catches sight of me.

  I had a good long m-o-a-n about all this to Cam. She’s going to be my foster mum. She is. This time it’s really true. Cam’s going to be my foster mum until my own mum finishes making her movies and we get it together again.

  Cam’s thrilled at the idea of fostering me. Well. She’s given it serious thought. Perhaps she wasn’t that keen just at first but now she’s going to all these classes about being a good foster parent. It’s a bit of a waste of time if you ask me. I know exactly what a good foster parent should be like. She should let me sleep in every morning and take me to McDonald’s every single day and let me watch horror movies on the telly till late into the night and she should buy me HUGE presents every day, double on my birthday – and take me for decent summer holidays. She’s seeing me every week now with a view to fostering me after the summer. It’s a shame she and my stupid social worker can’t get their act together and get me fostered during the summer – and then Cam could take me to America.

  ‘Dream on, Tracy,’ said Cam. ‘I’m having a bit of a cash flow problem. Like all my cash flows out of my purse and once I’ve paid my flat money and bought some food there’s hardly any left.’

  I like Cam but sometimes I wonder if she’s the right foster mum for me. I really want one with lots and lots and lots of money. I mean, you can’t have a good time without money, can you?

  Well, maybe you can. Wait till I tell you!

  Cam comes to see me every Saturday. We usually have this little routine. She takes me to McDonald’s. That’s the best bit. Then we go for a trip somewhere. Nowhere exciting – mostly museums and art galleries. I don’t mind dinosaurs and I like giggling at paintings of ladies with big fat bottoms – but it’s mostly pr
etty boring.

  But after I had my mega-holiday moan Cam rang me up at the Home and suggested that next Saturday we might have a mini holiday together – a special fun day out.

  ‘Really? No museums? No art galleries? Proper fun?’ I said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Cam.

  ‘Can we go anywhere?’

  ‘Well, within reason.’

  ‘Right! I know where I want to go! We’ll get the Eurostar to Paris and then we’ll go to Disneyland and—’

  ‘And that idea has to go on hold unless I just happen to win the Lottery,’ Cam said firmly.

  ‘Well . . . how about an amusement park over here? Chessington World of Adventures? Legoland?’

  ‘Maybe towards the end of the summer. If I can manage it. But I was thinking more along the lines of a day at the seaside. My old auntie’s got this beach hut. I used to love going there when I was your age.’

  I pondered. ‘So what would we do?’

  ‘Swim.’

  ‘Is there a pool?’

  ‘In the sea!’

  I wasn’t at all sure about this idea.

  ‘What else? Do we build sandcastles?’

  ‘It’s pebbles, actually.’

  ‘Ah. So . . . we build piles of pebbles?’

  Cam shook her head at me.

  ‘I’ll throw pebbles at you if you don’t watch out! We just go to the seaside and enjoy ourselves. If you want.’

  ‘I do want,’ I said.

  So I spent ages boasting to all the other kids about my Big Day Out. I said we were going to this amazing beach resort and we’d both loll in the sun drinking cocktails by our own private apartment. I was up at six on Saturday, dressed in my special Day Out at the Sea clothes – a little T-shirt that I’d cut with scissors till it resembled a dead cool crop top (well, sort of) and shorts (borrowed from Louise when she wasn’t watching her wardrobe) and super stylish sunglasses that made me look like my mum the movie star.

  There was just one problem. It was pouring with rain. Justine and Louise laughed meanly at breakfast and said I couldn’t possibly go to the seaside now. I started to have an argument and then Louise suddenly recognized the shorts I was wearing and protested bitterly. I abandoned the argument and charged out the front door, still clutching my bread and butter breakfast.

  Cam was just drawing up in her junky old car.

  ‘Hi, Tracy! Lovely weather for ducks, eh?’ she said, grinning ruefully.

  ‘Can we still go?’ I said.

  ‘You bet,’ said Cam. ‘But you need to get some warmer clothes, don’t you?’

  ‘It’ll brighten up by the time we get to the seaside,’ I said, getting into the car.

  So we set off. Cam had two bars of chocolate and a big bottle of Coke in the car so I had a second breakfast. I invented a brand new sandwich with my leftover bread and butter and milk chocolate – delicious! I felt as fizzy as the Coke. It was going to be a great day out. All we needed was the sun to come out.

  The sun seemed to have spun off into a new galaxy altogether. Black clouds loomed above us all the way, and the rain was relentless. The windscreen wipers had to go slonk-slonk-slonk double quick to clear the screen.

  ‘Who cares?’ said Cam, and she slotted this tape of old rock music into her cassette player.

  ‘Can we play it loud?’ I asked. You’re not allowed to turn the volume up in the Home because you disturb the babies.

  ‘Loud as you like,’ said Cam.

  She started singing and I did too. We bellowed ‘The sun ain’t gonna shine any more . . .’ – and it didn’t.

  But it didn’t matter a bit. We could hardly see the sea when we got there. It was all dark grey – the sea, the sky, the cliffs, the pebbles on the beach. But the wooden beach huts were painted red and blue and green and yellow – and there was one magic one right at the end painted red orange yellow green blue indigo violet, just like a rainbow.

  ‘Guess which is ours,’ said Cam, grinning.

  It was the rainbow one. Cam unlocked it. It was a bit poky and dusty inside, but kind of cute, like a little Wendy House. There was even a little stove with a kettle. Cam made herself a cup of her weird herbal tea and I had some more Coke. I wished there was a little fire as well as a little stove. Cam seemed to be hot as she took off her big jersey – so after a while I put it on. I looked a bit funny because it came right down to my knees, but it didn’t matter, it was just Cam and me. She got a bit goosebumpy in her T-shirt so she put her old aunty’s padded jacket on. She looked funny too. She did a daft little dance inside the hut but she kept bumping into things so she opened the door and danced outside in the pouring rain. She looked even dafter – but it looked fun too, so I dashed out and boogied around too until we were both helpless with laughter and soaked to the skin.

  ‘So let’s go in swimming,’ said Cam.

  ‘In the rain?’

  ‘Well, we’re wet already, aren’t we?’

  ‘But we’ll be freezing in the sea.’

  ‘Not if we rush around and keep warm.’

  ‘There are things though. Fish. Crabs.’

  ‘Killer whales?’ said Cam. ‘Come on, I’ll be Killer Woman and you be Killer Girl.’ She started stripping down to her swimming costume.

  ‘I haven’t got a swimming costume.’

  ‘Wear your knickers!’ said Cam. ‘Come on, last one in is a sissy!’

  So we went in swimming. I discovered something strange. When it’s ever so cold and rainy the water feels warmer. It was still cold enough to make me shriek getting in, but once I’d ducked down and got my shoulders wet it was suddenly fun, just the way Cam promised. We held hands and jumped the waves and then she swam for a bit while I rode on her shoulders, although we both kept capsizing.

  It really was freezing when we came out but Cam rubbed us both dry in the beach hut and dressed me in her big jersey and her aunty’s padded jacket until I stopped shivering. She made more herbal tea and I had some too, special strawberry flavour, and then we got stuck into the picnic proper. It wasn’t quite McDonald’s standard but I quite like cheese and salad rolls, and then I had bananas and grapes and a whole packet of Smarties, rainbow colours to match the beach hut!

  Then we went for a long walk, still in the rain, looking at all the seagulls and collecting shells and seaweed. It was a little too much like Nature Study, but quite good fun. Then we went on the pier and that was fun. There weren’t any really scary rides but we both went on this little kid’s roundabout and then we went in the old arcade. There weren’t any really good modern games but we won a troll doll for me on the cranes and then a tube of those baby soap bubbles.

  Then we walked right up and over the cliffs, all on our own in the rain. We sang at the tops of our voices, sometimes making up the words as we went along. Then we went round to the fish and chip shop and got a big bag of chips each for our tea. They got a bit soggy as it was still pouring, but we didn’t care.

  Do you know something weird? The sun suddenly shone straight through the dark clouds just as we were getting in the car to go back. It was still raining though . . .

  ‘So there must be a rainbow,’ said Cam.

  We both turned round and there it was, a big glowing arc in the sky.

  We stood hand in hand, looking and looking, and then we drove back. I had the car window open and I blew rainbow bubbles all the way, watching them float up up up into the air.

  So that was my Big Day Out – and do you know something? I haven’t exaggerated a single word of it. I couldn’t make it up better if I tried.

  IF YOU ASK me, I can’t think of a worse subject, Mrs Spencer. Who wants to write about their summer holiday on the first day back at school? But all right, I’ll give it a go.

  The thing is, I was absolutely dreading going on holiday this year. I know you’ll think that kinda weird. But then I’m mega certain you think I’m a totally weird kinda girl.

  I have an even weirder family, believe you me. There’s my mum for a start. She mi
ght come across as reasonably sane, and when she comes to parents’ evening she’ll dress up and act all concerned and sorrowful if you start bad-mouthing me like all the other teachers. But I tell you, she’s barking mad. She must be, or she’d never have picked Silly Simon as my stepdad. I call him S.S. for short, and he acts like a member of the S.S., forever bossing me about and telling me what to do. I can’t stick him.

  I’m not that keen on Keira either. She’s my sister. Keira’s only two years older than me, one year and eleven months actually, and yet she thinks she’s got the perfect right to tell me what to do and generally patronize me. We have to share a bedroom which is totally unfair. She uses so much perfume and hairspray and stuff I practically choke to death, and she’s always nag nag nagging because I leave all my stuff out. I just don’t see the point when I’m going to get it out again the next day.

  We have huge arguments about the posters on the walls too. She likes all these pathetic pop stars and moans about my glorious pictures of dogs. I get all these animal mags and cut out all the illustrations and stick them all over my two walls. I have carefully cut out photos of cute Chihuahuas and drawings of dotty Dalmatians and posters of perky poodles. There, Mrs Spencer, I know all about alliteration!

  I am absolutely crazy about dogs. And for years and years I haven’t been able to have one for various totally lame reasons: we live in a flat; Mum’s out at work all day; Keira imagines she’s allergic to dog fur, etc, etc. But I have been campaigning for years and years for us to have a dog.

  AND NOW WE HAVE ONE!!!!!!!!!!

  It was actually all down to Silly Simon, which is kinda irritating.

  He went down the pub and when he came home late he found this little abandoned puppy tied up to a railing. It was whimpering and whining and though S.S. is often a real pig to me I have to admit he is not totally heartless. He tucked the poor little puppy inside his jacket and took him home.