The Tutti-frutti Collection - Jean Ure

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      Computers are technology and I’m not very good with computers, either. I don’t know what I will end up doing. Sweeping the streets, I expect. I don’t think I will be able to work with books like Mum, as I don’t think there will be any books left, just CD Roms, or whatever they are. And I don’t think there will be people drawing pictures of elves, either. It will all be done by computer and people such as myself will be left behind like old empty bottles on the beach.

      I tried talking about this with Sereena, thinking I would find out what kind of things she is good at other than telling rude jokes, but you cannot have a proper conversation with her as you can with the Melon. All she can do is bat her satellite dishes and giggle. Of course the Melon is a bit of an intellectual, I mean, she has a real brain. Sereena’s brain if she has one, is about the size of a pea.

      When I got home Mum said, “There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I told her it was “enlightening” and she said, “Why? What did you do?” I said, “Read porno mags and told dirty jokes.” Mum laughed. She thought it really funny. “No, seriously,” she said.

      I said that seriously we had discussed what we thought would happen in the 21st century and I had come to the melancholy conclusion that far from being a pop star or a judge I would most likely end up living in a cardboard box as I was not numerate and couldn’t make friends with computers the way some people could. Skinny, for example, and Sereena. Mum told me not to be so pessimistic. She said, “You’re like me, you’re into words.” I said yes, but there won’t be any words. Just computerspeak. Mum said, “Oh, what a bleak picture!” I said, “Yes, it is, but I think one has to face facts.”

      Mum doesn’t want to face them. She says that if it’s going to be a world without books and pictures then she’d sooner not be here. Slimey didn’t play any part in this conversation as he was upstairs finishing some more elves to meet what is called “a deadline”, meaning (I think) that his publishers will sue him for vast sums of money if he hasn’t drawn the right number by a certain date.

      It was nice being on my own with Mum, even if our conversation was rather doom-laden. At least she didn’t mention the baby, which is now sticking out in front of her like a huge horrible sack of potatoes.

      She asked me the other day if I’d like to feel it but I said no, thank you very much. Catch me!

      Tomorrow I am going to stay with Dad. Hooray hooray hooray! Three whole days without Slimey Roland! No more stupid jokes, no more stupid cards! I can go to bed at night and know that nobody is going to come creeping along the passage and shoving stuff under my door while I’m asleep, which is something I really hate.

      Dad is picking me up in the car. He is driving all the way from Southampton and is arriving at about 9 o’clock, so I must be sure and be up early. I am going to set my alarm. Fortunately I have already packed my case, I did it this morning with Mum’s help. She kept saying things like, “Well, you won’t need all that much, now it’s only for a few days.” She just refuses to accept that Dad is an important person and cannot simply please himself. This is because he is in an office. All Mum and Slimey ever do is sit at home reading books and drawing elves. But with Dad, there is a great deal depending on him and he has to be prepared to work long hours. It is not his fault. I do wish Mum could see this.

      I am going to take my diary with me just in case, but I expect I shall be too busy to write anything in it. The next three days are going to be ACTION PACKED!!!

      141 Arethusa Road

      London W5

      25 October

      Dearest Carol,

      I cannot believe it! A Texan called Dwayn? Is this a real name??? He sure does sound hunky, hon!

      No, no, no, I’m only joking! In all seriousness, I’m really glad you’ve found someone to have fun with. You deserve it. Enjoy! But full reports, please. I am consumed with vulgar curiosity.

      Cherry has suggested that if the baby is a girl we should call her Bredan… get it? Oh, ho ho! She is picking up this sort of humour from Roly. But I was so pleased that she feels able to make jokes about it. It shows she’s been thinking.

      Yesterday she went over the road to have tea with a new little girl who has just moved into our neighbourhood. I call her a little girl because although she is the same age as Cherry she is most delightfully quaint and old-fashioned! She actually wears a big red bow in her hair and shiny shoes with ankle straps. It takes me right back! Cherry by contrast is into all this heavy grunge gear and walks around looking like something that’s crawled out of a garbage heap. I feel it would do her good to make friends with someone like little Sereena.

      At the moment she is not here as she has gone off to spend a few days with Gregg. There are times when I could cheerfully strangle that man! He had arranged to pick her up at about nine o’clock and she was all ready and waiting, down in the hall with her suitcase, wearing her best clothes (ie, the grungiest ones she could find) and by 10.30 when he still hadn’t arrived I rang Southampton and got this bimbo he’s shacked up with and she says, “Oh, yah, he’s just left about ten minutes ago.” Of course by then the roads were busy which meant he didn’t get here until lunch-time.

      It really is too bad. Poor little Cherry sitting there waiting like some faithful hound, and this selfish irresponsible oaf not even bothering to call and let us know! Cherry was almost in tears. When he finally turned up she went catapulting into his arms and it was all kissy kissy huggy huggy. I expect I ought to have found it touching but the truth is I was too cross. Also, I suppose, if I am to be honest, I was a bit hurt at her being so obviously eager to get away from us. Roly says, “Come on, it’s her dad! She hasn’t seen him for six months,” and I know that I mustn’t be jealous but it seems so unfair! He comes breezing in, three hours late, and she’s all over him with never so much as a backward glance for me and Roly. I offered the fool a cup of coffee (I wasn’t going to offer him lunch!) but I could tell that Cherry just wanted to be off.

      Oh, aren’t I sour and crabby! But I do dread her returning home full of discontent, telling me how wonderful it is at her dad’s and how horrible it is here. They’re bound to spoil her rotten, it’s only to be expected. And it will never occur to her that they’ve only had her for three days while we have her all the rest of the year! She’s a bright child, but not always the easiest, which I know is partly my fault. My fault and Gregg’s. Our getting divorced has been difficult for her. I keep telling myself that I must make allowances.

      Oh, but she can be so ungracious! Roly felt that he would like to give her something as a going-away present. A little something to take with her. He said would she like a book and I said yes, I thought a book would be an excellent idea, because one thing she does do is read, even if it is mostly schlock horror just at present. He went to such pains to find one that she would like! She is writing this diary at the moment (it is supposed to be a secret, but she lets slip these little remarks from time to time) and we suddenly remembered that wonderful book which you and I read when we were Cherry’s age. I Capture the Castle. Do you remember it? Cassandra Morton sitting on the draining board writing her journal with her feet in the sink? How we wallowed in it! So Roly combed through half the secondhand bookshops in London until he found an actual original copy and he slipped it into her bedroom while she was asleep, with one of his lovely funny little notes all done in pictures, telling her to take it with her to read while she was away, and what do you think? I’ve just been in there (it looks like a bomb site but I am not going to clear it) and she has just left the book lying on the floor! I haven’t dared to tell Roly, he would be so hurt.

      I really do begin to despair. It sometimes seems to me that the harder Roly tries the worse she treats him. And I have this horrible feeling that she is going to be even more

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