Twin Tales Page 5

  Connie wouldn’t look, Connie wouldn’t listen. When Mum and Dad and the twins came to fetch her, Gran whispered to Mum that Connie had been a ‘bit of a madam’.

  Connie felt this was most unfair. She felt cross for the rest of Sunday. But she cheered up at school on Monday. She sat next to her best friend Karen. Karen had a baby sister called Susie, who screamed a lot. Karen drew a silly picture of Susie on the back of her school jotter.

  Connie and Karen got the giggles.

  Connie was still smiling when she met up with Mum at the school gate.

  ‘You look in a good mood for once,’ said Mum. ‘Come on, we’re in a hurry. I’ve got to take the twins to be weighed at the baby clinic.’

  ‘The baby clinic?’ said Connie.

  ‘Will Nurse Meade be there?’ ‘She should be,’ said Mum.

  ‘Great!’ said Connie. ‘She’s magic.’

  5. Giant Gerbil

  ‘Hello, Nurse Meade! Remember me?’ said Connie, running up to Nurse Meade.

  ‘Of course I remember you, Connie,’ Nurse Meade laughed, and all the little blue glass beads on the ends of her plaits twinkled.

  ‘You’ve still got all your pretty plaits,’ said Connie.

  ‘With my special blue glass beads,’ said Nurse Meade, and she winked at Connie.

  Connie winked back. She wasn’t very good at winking. She had to crease up half of her face in the process.

  ‘Connie, are you making faces at Nurse Meade?’ said Mum, shocked.

  ‘She’s just being friendly. We’re special friends, Connie and me,’ said Nurse Meade. ‘How about helping me weigh your little brother and sister then, Connie? Off with their nappies and into the scales.’

  They weighed Claire first. She disgraced herself by doing a little wee in the scales. Mum got all embarrassed but Nurse Meade only laughed.

  Then they weighed Charles. He wasn’t going to let Claire outdo him. He did a little wee too. This time Nurse Meade had to dodge out of the way! She laughed even more. Connie laughed so much she had to clutch her sides and stagger.

  ‘I’m going to wear my swimming costume next time I weigh these two,’said Nurse Meade.

  Connie stopped laughing. Nurse Meade looked thoughtful. Mum was busy mopping Claire and Charles and getting them dressed.

  ‘Lots of people take their babies swimming now,’ said Nurse Meade, cleaning her scales.

  ‘Yes, I take Claire and Charles,’ said Mum, trying to sound casual.

  ‘And do they like it?’ asked Nurse Meade, washing her hands.

  ‘They love it,’ said Mum. She glanced worriedly at Connie.

  Nurse Meade was watching Connie carefully too.

  ‘Do you like swimming, Connie?’ asked Nurse Meade.

  ‘No. I hate it,’ said Connie.

  ‘Is that so?’ said Nurse Meade. ‘Hey, your hair’s grown quite a bit since I last saw you. Do you ever wear it in little plaits like me?’

  ‘They’re too fiddly for me to fix myself – and Mum’s always too busy,’ said Connie. ‘I loved it when you gave me a little plait, Nurse Meade.’

  ‘Do you want me to give you just one little plait now?’ asked Nurse Meade.

  ‘Yes, please!’

  ‘With a couple of my blue glass beads to keep it in place?’ asked Nurse Meade. She took two out of the pocket of her blue dress and held them up to the light. They sparkled a deep bright blue. A familiar frightening colour. Connie suddenly shivered.

  ‘What’s up, Connie? You loved my beads last time,’ Nurse Meade said gently.

  ‘Yes, but . . . they’re swimming-pool blue. And I hate that colour now.’ Connie hesitated. Nurse Meade started plaiting a lock of her hair. ‘I’m a little bit scared of swimming, actually,’ Connie mumbled.

  ‘Is that so?’ said Nurse Meade, still plaiting, as if it was no big deal at all. ‘Ah well. We’re all scared of something.’

  ‘Dad gets cross with me. And Mum’s ever so tactful but she really thinks I’m a baby. And Gran says I’ve got a phobia,’ said Connie.

  ‘I get the picture,’ said Nurse Meade. ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Connie. I have a feeling things will somehow sort themselves out.’ She finished the plait, holding it together with her finger and thumb. ‘I can find a bit of ribbon for you if youreally don’t want to wear my blue beads.’

  Nurse Meade looked at Connie. Connie looked back at Nurse Meade.

  ‘A ribbon wouldn’t be anywhere near as . . . magic,’ said Nurse Meade.

  ‘I’d like the blue beads after all, please,’ said Connie.

  Nurse Meade twisted them into place. Connie couldn’t see them when she looked straight ahead but when she turned her head quickly she saw a little blue spark bob up over her ear. Connie still didn’t like being reminded of swimming-pools – but the beads were beautiful.

  ‘I see Nurse Meade’s given you some of her beads again,’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes. They’re magic,’ said Connie, very hopefully indeed.

  ‘Were you talking about being scared of swimming to Nurse Meade?’ said Mum on their way home from the clinic.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Connie, not wanting to talk about it now.

  ‘I know you’re very scared and it must be horrible for you.’ Mum insisted on talking about it. ‘I do understand, darling. But you must see that there’s really nothing to be scared of, not in the baby pool.’

  ‘And boring old baby Charles and baby Claire bob up and down in it like little ducks. Why can’t you all just shut up about it?’

  Mum was now very cross indeed so when they got home Connie stomped off by herself into the back garden. She twiddled the two blue beads on her new plait. She was sick of Mum. She wished for two new twin mums. But the magic didn’t seem to work this time. No new mums appeared though Connie looked all around hopefully. She twiddled the beads once more. ‘Come on, you’re meant to be magic!’

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ said a voice over the fence.

  It was Gerald, the big boy next door. He certainly wasn’t magic, but Connie liked him all the same.

  ‘Come on, my little beauties,’ muttered Gerald.

  ‘Who are you talking to, Gerald?’ asked Connie.

  ‘My gerbils have had babies. Want to see them?’

  ‘Oooh yes,’ said Connie.

  The baby gerbils were very cute indeed. They were more like toddler gerbils, bright-eyed and alert, with fluffy coats and long tickly tails.

  ‘They’re lovely,’ said Connie, enchanted. ‘Let me hold one, please.’

  ‘Well, be careful. Don’t drop it!’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’ Connie held her hands out over the fence and Gerald gently dropped a soft little baby gerbil into her palm.

  ‘Oooh, it’s so sweet!’ Connie whispered.

  ‘You can have one if you promise to look after it properly,’ said Gerald.

  ‘I don’t think my mum would let me. I don’t think she likes gerbils. She’s mad. They’re the cutest little animals ever. But ever so tickly!’ The gerbil was running up her arm and into the tunnel of her T-shirt sleeve. ‘Hey, come back!’ said Connie, giggling. ‘Gerald, it’s escaping!’

  Gerald sighed. ‘I told you to hold on to it. Wait a minute. I’ll have to secure the others before I can help.’

  Connie’s gerbil was whizzing down her leg and was off up the lawn before she could stop it.

  ‘Come back, little gerbil!’ Connie called, running.

  The gerbil scampered across the patio and in through the open back door. There was a sudden scream. A very loud frantic s-c-r-e-a-m.

  ‘That’s Mum,’ said Connie, running harder.

  Mum was in the kitchen, climbing right up the cupboards, her head nearly banging the ceiling. She was yelling her head off.

  The gerbil was on the tiled floor, peering up at Mum. It didn’t look such a baby now. In fact it seemed very big for an adult gerbil. It seemed to be growing rapidly. It was a good cat-size now, with huge pointed teeth and an immense quiver
y tail.

  ‘Run!’ Mum shouted desperately to Connie.

  The gerbil heard the word ‘run’ and decided to obey. It went charging across the kitchen, its claws gouging great tracks across the floor. It grew at every stride. It skittered to a halt at the kitchen unit. It could almost get its huge head over the edge.

  ‘Aaaah!’ Mum yelledhysterically, hopping up and down.

  ‘Calm down, Mum,’ said Connie cheerily. ‘I know you’re very scared. It must be horrible for you. I do understand, honest. But you must see that there’s really nothing to be scared of. It’s only a little baby gerbil!’

  As soon as Connie spoke the gerbil started shrinking.

  ‘Come here, little gerbil,’ said Connie, bending to pick it up. The gerbil shrivelled right back to its meek mild self, far smaller than Connie’s hand.

  ‘See?’ said Connie, holding it up to show Mum.

  ‘Take it away,’ Mum whispered hoarsely.

  Connie did as she was told. Then she went back to the kitchen and helped Mum down from the cupboard. Mum was still shaking like a jelly.

  ‘Nothing to be scared of now, Mum,’ said Connie reassuringly.

  ‘Oh, Connie! You were so brave,’ said Mum. ‘The bravest girl in all the world.’

  6. Exploding Video

  Gerald said the baby gerbil could be Connie’s special pet, even though it would have to live in a cage in Gerald’s back garden. She told everybody at school about George Gerbil.

  It was art first lesson so Connie drew a portrait of George. She drew him looking rather big and fierce, almost filling up the entire sheet of paper. Then right at the top Connie drew Mum shrieking and climbing up the kitchen cupboards.

  ‘That’s very good, Connie,’ said Miss Peters. ‘But I think you’ve got the proportions all wrong. You’ve made your gerbil look much too big.’

  ‘He did look as big as that, Miss Peters,’ said Connie. ‘Mum thought he did too!’

  Connie wrote about George Gerbil in the English lesson and she chose gerbils as the animal for her nature project.

  ‘You seem to have a one-track mind today, Connie,’ said Miss Peters. ‘Well, it’s PE last lesson. I suppose you’re going to run as fast as a gerbil, right?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Connie, laughing. She wasn’t very good at running. Or jumping or catching a ball. But it didn’t really matter, because Connie’s best friend Karen wasn’t very good either. They were generally partners and puffed along together. Today Connie and Karen were nearly last in the race.

  ‘Slowcoaches!’ said Angela. ‘Honestly, you two, you’re hopeless.’

  Angela had come first, even beating the boys.

  ‘Who wants to run like you?’ said Connie.

  Angela did ballet and was always sticking her feet out sideways. Connie did a funny imitation and everyone laughed.

  ‘Now then, Connie,’ said Miss Peters. ‘Don’t be silly, or I’ll make you run the race all over again.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Peters! I hate running,’ said Connie.

  ‘I know. Ah well, I don’t suppose you can be good at everything. Andmaybe you’ll come into your own next term.’

  ‘What are we doing next term, Miss Peters?’ Karen asked.

  ‘It’s a special treat,’ said Miss Peters.

  ‘Is it dancing?’ Angela asked hopefully.

  ‘Yuck! I hope not!’ said Connie.

  ‘No, it’s not dancing. We’re going to go swimming.’

  ‘Swimming!’ said everyone excitedly.

  Everyone but Connie.

  ‘Swimming!’ she whispered, appalled.

  ‘Yes, we’ve fixed it all up with the local swimming-pool. Our class can go once a week – in the big pool too!’

  Connie closed her eyes. That terrible blue watery world seemed to be swirling all around her. What was she going to do now? Could she manage a terrible cold/stomach ache/headache every single swimming lesson? It might work once or twice, but Miss Peters was no fool.

  ‘Oh help,’ Connie mumbled.

  ‘What’s up, Connie?’ said Karen.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Connie quickly.

  ‘It’s great about swimming, isn’t it?’ said Karen. ‘Heaps better than boring old PE. You go swimming with your dad, don’t you?’

  ‘I . . . used to,’ said Connie. ‘We haven’t gone much recently.’

  Connie started to feel sick. She could see their whole class at the swimming-baths. Everyone showing off and teasing each other. She saw herself, shivering, scared, screaming. She’d never ever ever be able to live it down.

  She was still feeling sick when she came out of school. Gran had come to meet Connie.

  ‘Hello, dear. What’s the matter? What’s happened? You look dreadful, Connie!’

  ‘It’s nothing, Gran,’ said Connie, hurrying to get away from all the other children.

  Gran was in a hurry too, not wanting to miss her favourite quiz programme on television.

  ‘Why don’t you set your new video so that it records it while you’re out?’ said Connie.

  ‘Oh, I . . . I didn’t think of that,’ said Gran, sounding odd. ‘Come on, then, dear.’ They were passing the ice-cream van. ‘I think we can make time for an ice-cream,’ said Gran. ‘Would you like a giant ninety-nine with strawberry sauce?’

  Normally Connie would say YES, PLEASE. But she was still feeling so sick about swimming that she simply shook her head.

  Gran stared at her.

  ‘Connie, there’s something really the matter, isn’t there?’ Gran put her arm round Connie and held her close.

  ‘Tell me what it is, darling,’ said Gran.

  Connie screwed up her face. Her eyes were stinging and she was terribly scared she might cry. She took Gran’s hand and hurried her down the street and round the corner. Then she blurted it out.

  ‘Miss Peters said we’ve got to go swimming with the school next term,’ she wailed.

  Gran looked at her blankly.

  ‘But that’s good, isn’t it, dear? You’ve got yourself in a silly state about going swimming with Mummy and Daddy. Now you can go with all your friends and learn properly.’

  ‘Oh, Gran! You don’t understand. I can’t go swimming. I’m scared!’

  ‘But it’s so silly to be scared, Connie,’ said Gran, sighing. ‘I don’t know. I can’t understand the way you children are brought up nowadays. Your mum shouldn’t give in to you so. We just had to put up with things when we were kiddies. Nobody bothered to ask whether we were scared or not. We just had to do as we were told.’

  Connie was extremely annoyed with Gran.

  Gran hurried along the road. Connie trailed after her, twiddling the blue beads on her plait. As she went into Gran’s house they gave a little blue spark.

  Gran went into her living-room – and gave a shriek. Connie rushed in after her.

  ‘Look!’ said Gran, pointing with a shaking finger.

  ‘Wow!’ said Connie.

  The new television and video recorder were hissing and buzzing and crackling ominously, lightning forks of electricity shooting off in all directions. They were covered with hundreds of knobsand buttons, all of them lighting up and flashing like Christmas-tree lights. There were clocks and time switches all over the place, numbers blurring they were going so fast. Different programmes danced across the screen of the television set, while the video recorder opened up all by itself and sucked in Gran’s favourite video, The Sound of Music. It chewed it all up in a split second and spat it out again with a very rude electronic burp.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ Gran wailed. ‘I’ll have to phone the television man again! I don’t know what to do. He’s shown me how to work it twice but I can’t get the hang of it at all – and the instruction booklet is written in a completely foreign language. Grandpa’s too old to work it out – and I’m so useless with modern machines. They scare me so.’

  Gran cowered away from the television, squealing as an entire firework display shot out of the set and circled the ceiling.r />
  ‘It’s OK, Gran,’ said Connie cheerily. ‘It’s a bit silly to be scared of a television, but never mind. I don’t know. I can’t understand the way you grown-ups feel about machines. We children don’t act so daft. It’s really easy-peasy. Look!’

  She sauntered up to the television and video and pressed a button. They instantly subsided. Connie inserted The Sound of Music and pressed another button. It rewound, as good as new. Then Connie selected the right channel and pressed one more button. Gran’s quiz programme came on to the screen.

  ‘There we are, Gran. I’ll set your video so that it records it automatically for you in future, OK?’

  ‘Oh, Connie! You clever clever clever little girl,’ said Gran, clapping her hands.

  And Grandpa woke up at last and gave Connie a big smile.

  7. Driller Dentist

  Connie woke up with a start, her arms and legs flailing. She pushed back her duvet, gasping for air – and then sighed with relief. She was safe in her own dry bed – not down in the depths of that cold blue pool.

  She glanced at her Little Mermaid alarm clock (oh dear, even that seemed sinister nowadays!) to see if it was time to get up.

  ‘Mum! Dad! We’ve slept in,’ Connie called, jumping out of bed.

  Mum and Dad came staggering out of their bedroom, their eyes all peepy and their hair sticking up on end.

  ‘Claire and Charles cried half the night!’ Mum said. ‘I had to give them another feed at four o’clock this morning – and still they didn’t settle.’

  The twins woke up at the sound of their names and started wailing.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Mum, staggering down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. ‘Connie, you’d better share the bathroom with Dad. You have a very quick in-and-out bath while Dad shaves.’

  ‘You haven’t got enough water in that bath,’ said Dad, his mouth all sideways because he was shaving.

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Connie, having a quick swish.

  ‘Don’t be silly – it’s only a couple of centimetres! You can’t wash in that,’ said Dad, reaching out to turn the bath taps back on.