Boys Beware - Jean Ure

Скачать книгу

better not snore!”

      Auntie Jay was beginning to look a bit flustered. “Maybe I ought to see if I can find another one somewhere.”

      “Oh, don’t worry about those two,” said Mum. “They can make do. They’re practically joined at the hip, anyway.”

      It’s true, me and Tash are the hugest of best friends. Mum says we are more like twins than sisters. Sometimes we pretend that we are twins, and then people just get so confused! You can see them looking from me to Tash and back again to me, not knowing what to believe. We happen to have been born on exactly the same day – yet we don’t look in the least bit alike. Tash is small and dark and elfin, with this dear little face, all beaming and full of innocence. (Totally misleading! Mum says she is a holy terror.) I am on the skinny side, with blonde hair, a bit straggly except when it has just been washed, and blue eyes. In my last school photo, although I say it myself, I looked positively angelic! This is also misleading, according to Mum. She says that when it comes to the holy terror stakes, “I couldn’t put a pin between you.” But physically we are completely and utterly different, and this is because we are actually not even sisters! We love to string people along and get them all wound up. And then, when we have teased them long enough, we put them out of their misery. We have this party piece that we do.

      “Her mum – “ Tash says.

      “Married her dad,” I say.

      “Which means – “(both together)” – we’re not even related!”

      Ha ha! Well, we think it’s funny. Sometimes we tell people the story of how Mum and Dad met up while me and Tash were still in Infants. We tell how they got talking while they waited for us outside the school gates. How Mum was on her own with me and Ali, Dad was on his own with Tash, and so in the end they decided to get married. How us three were bridesmaids, in little pink frocks. Just so-o-o sweet!

      Yes, and it would have been even sweeter if Ali hadn’t gone and brought up her breakfast in the middle of the ceremony, though at least she managed to catch most of it in her bouquet, which Auntie Jay said showed great presence of mind. Personally I thought it was rather disgusting, but it is the sort of thing you expect from Ali. She is just so accident prone!

      After we’d settled the question of beds, and had mastered the art of switching the cooker on and off and closing the fridge door properly – Mum seemed to think we needed lessons! She has such a poor opinion of us – we all went downstairs for a cup of tea. One of Auntie Jay’s friends was there, a woman called Jo Dainty, who used to be at uni with her. She said, “Well, I just hope you’re more capable than I was at your age … I couldn’t even boil an egg!”

      “I can boil eggs,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound boastful but there are times when grown-ups really do seem to think we are quite useless. I mean, closing fridge doors, for goodness’ sake!

      “Just don’t get too cocky,” said Mum. “This is going to be a steep learning curve.”

      She added that she intended to make out a list of Do’s and Don’ts, and she advised Auntie Jay to do the same.

      “I may even make a Book of Rules.”

      She thought better of that idea, thank goodness! But the day she moved us into the flat she presented me and Tash with a couple of jotter pads and said she wanted us to keep a daily Food Diary and a weekly Activities Diary, so that when she got back she would be able to check a) what we had been eating and b) what we had been up to.

      “Mum!” I said. “That’s spying!”

      “It’s not spying,” said Mum. “It’s a way of keeping you focused.”

      “So who gets to do what?” said Tash.

      I said that I would do Activities, and she could do Food. Writing a diary was no problem for me, I already kept one anyway. Not that I would ever let Mum see my own personal diary! My personal diary is strictly private. I thought that for Mum it would be easy enough just to do extracts. Suitable ones, of course!

      “What about Ali? What’s she going to do?”

      Mum said that Ali was to be responsible for Fat Man. Fat Man is our cat. He is not really fat, it’s just that he has masses of fur, all puffed out like a big pompom, plus the most disagreeable expression, which in fact is every bit as misleading as Tash looking innocent and me looking angelic. In reality he is the sweetest cat and we all love him to bits! But it is Ali who specially dotes on him, so we didn’t mind her being put in charge. In any case, she would never have managed to keep a diary, she is far too disorganised. Unless, perhaps, she could have put it on the computer. Ali loves her computer! Needless to say, it was going to come with us. The computer and Star Trek are the two biggest things in her life – well, plus Fat Man.

      Some people think that Ali is a bit odd, but really she’s just eccentric. We all feel very protective towards her. Dad once said that she is your actual “innocent abroad”, by which I think he meant that she is not at all streetwise. Unlike me and Tash! I wasn’t altogether surprised when Mum took me to one side, as we loaded the car for the second trip to Auntie Jay’s, and said, “Emily, I want you and Tash to do something for me … I want you to watch out for Ali. Make sure she’s all right. I know she’s older than you, but she is such a dreamer! So can I rely on you?”

      I solemnly gave her my promise. Of course we would watch out for Ali! It made me feel good that Mum trusted me.

      Or did she??? The last words she said, as we kissed her goodbye, were: “Just remember … no boys. I mean that, you two! I’m serious.”

      PERSONAL PRIVATE DIARY (not to be confused with Mum’s!)

       Week 1, Saturday

      Our first day of independent living! Not that it has been all that independent so far as it was half-past two when Mum left and at seven o’clock Auntie Jay invited us down to have dinner with her and her friend Jo, so we only had just a few hours on our own. But that was enough to convince us that it is going to be the hugest fun!

      Me and Tash started off by moving all the furniture about. It was Tash’s idea. She said the way you arrange your living space is an expression of your personality, and it was the other people, the people who had been there before us, who had put the bed in the corner and pushed the table against the wall. She insisted that the bed had to go under the windows, and the table had to go in the middle.

      “That way, it’ll cover up the stain on the carpet.”

      I do hope she isn’t going to become house-proud! She was actually talking of finding a rug to stand the table on. I had to remind her that we are only here for eight weeks. Tash said, “Yes, but we want the place to look nice.”

      So long as she is not going to nag. I mean, there are more important things to worry about than stains on the carpet. Ali, of course, hasn’t even noticed the stain, she spent the entire afternoon

Скачать книгу