The Tutti-frutti Collection - Jean Ure

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      The Skinbag must be mad. She said to me today that she thinks Slimey Roland is “really nice”. She also said, “Is your mum going to have a baby?” which made me want to knock her head off. I said, “No, of course she isn’t! What makes you think that?” and she said, “‘Cos she looks as if she is.” So I said, “Oh?” raising both my eyebrows up into my fringe to show I was displeased. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” She said, “Well she’s all kind of bulgy round the middle.”

      I told her I’d poke her eyes out if she said anything like that about my mum again, so then she said, “Sorry, I’m sure,” meaning she wasn’t sorry at all, and went into a huff and shut up. We haven’t talked all the rest of the day.

      How dare she say Mum’s bulgy round the middle? That would be like me saying her mum had sticking-out teeth, which she has.

      But I wouldn’t ever say it because it would be rude. And anyway, what would Mum want a baby for? When she’s already got me?

      Saturday

      I’ve been thinking about what Skinny said. I have a horrible feeling that it might be true. Mum is looking bulgy. I suddenly saw it when she was getting off the bus. And this morning after we’d done all the shopping and were going to go and have what Slimey calls “coffee and cakies”. (He spends so much time drawing pictures of elves that his mind has gone completely infantile.) I couldn’t help noticing that they spent ages standing outside a baby shop gorming at all the prams and potties and carry-cots. They didn’t realise I was watching them. They thought I was too busy giving money to a person that was collecting for anti-vivisection, and I was giving them money, because I think that anyone that experiments on animals ought to be experimented on themselves, but at the same time I was watching Mum and Slimey. They had their arms round each other’s waists! Pathetic, really. Mum is going to be thirty-six next year, and I know for a fact that Slime is even older. I don’t think people of that age ought to go about in public with their arms round each other, I think it looks really naff. Especially when one of them is your own mother.

      I don’t think I could bear it if Mum was going to have another baby. But surely she would have told me? Maybe she is just suffering from middle-age spread.

      While we were doing the shopping I looked at some aubergines (which is how it is spelt, not oberjenes as I originally thought) and they are not in the least like slugs, more like big purple eggs, so I really don’t know what Janetta’s mum was talking about.

      After lunch Aunt Jilly and Uncle Ivo came and brought their new baby with them. It is a horrible thing, all sicky and stinky and does nothing but bawl.

      Mum and Slimey both drooled over it. Slime kept giving it his bony old finger to hold and making these silly baby noises. I personally think you ought to talk to babies sensibly, in proper language, so that they can learn things. I don’t see any point in filling their heads with all this gooey yuck. I mean, if they grow up thinking that stuff like “Doo doo doo” is how people communicate, for goodness’ sake, it’s just going to retard them. It stands to reason. They left me alone with it for a few minutes and I went up to it and said, “Good afternoon. How are you today?” and it actually looked at me quite intelligently. I don’t expect it knew what I was saying, but I bet the words have gone into its head and I bet they’ll be some of the first words it ever speaks. I bet they’ll get a surprise one day when it sits up in its pram and says good afternoon to them.

      “Good afternoon. How are you today?”

      They won’t know it’s me they have to thank.

      I’m getting more and more worried about Mum. She and Aunt Jilly went into the kitchen together to look at a plant that keeps shrivelling and they were there for simply ages so I went after them to find out what they were doing and as soon as she saw me, Mum gave Aunt Jilly this warning glance and they both stopped talking, but not before I’d heard what they were saying. Well, what Mum was saying. She was saying, “Yes, I know, I’m really going to have to pluck up the courage and tell her.”

      It doesn’t sound good.

      141 Arethusa Road

      London W5

      9 October

      Dear Carol,

      Many thanks for your lovely long letter! I’m afraid this is going to be another shortish one as we’ve been out walking all day on Hampstead Heath and I am whacked. Getting too old and fat!!!

      The answer to your question, which I know you’re going to ask, is no … I haven’t yet broken the news to Cherry. Yes, yes, I accept that I’m a total coward, but I am going to do it tomorrow afternoon when she gets in from school. Roly has to go away for the night – he is doing a talk to some mixed infants way up in the north of England – and so it will be a good opportunity. Just Cherry and me on our own. I think she might take it better that way.

      We all really enjoyed ourselves today. It was a lovely family outing, the sort of thing we ought to do more often. We took our food with us and had a good old-fashioned picnic! It was Roly’s idea, and he prepared all the goodies. He was really imaginative – and it was all vegetarian! Vegetable samosas, sausage rolls made with vegebangers, vegetable kebabs, soya desserts. I am quite being won over, and I think Cherry is, too. At any rate, she gobbled everything up. I don’t believe she even realised that the sausage rolls weren’t made with real sausages!

      Altogether it was an absolutely super day. It gives me hope that Cherry is coming round at last. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that hearing about you-know-what doesn’t set her back.

      Jilly and Ivo came over yesterday with little Sammy, and at first Cherry was very cool, very aloof, refused even to look at him. But then we left them alone together for a few minutes, just to see what would happen, and she couldn’t resist! Roly reports that she was nattering away nineteen to the dozen. So I think when she gets used to the idea she’ll be fine.

      She has been asked to take the part of an angel in the school nativity play, if you can believe it. An angel! Cherry! She is also going to sing. I don’t know if you have ever heard your god-daughter sing? It is not an experience I would recommend! She has a voice rather like a hyena. I only hope they don’t discover their error and give the part to someone else because she is terribly puffed up and looking forward to it. I wouldn’t like her little bubble to be burst.

      Her friend Melanie came to tea the other day. She is a nice child; steady and reliable. Cherry occasionally tries bossing her but fortunately Melanie can hold her own. I think that’s why the friendship has lasted. Melanie won’t stand for any nonsense! Roly was there and kept everyone in stitches, clowning around and generally playing the fool. He is absolutely, instinctively marvellous with kids. I think Cherry was quite proud of him. She certainly ought to have been.

      There! This letter hasn’t turned out so short after all. Next time I will report how she takes the news about Mum’s big secret …

      All my love,

       Chapter 4

      Sunday

      Today we all trailed half-way across London to go for a picnic on Hampstead Heath. On account of Slimey Roland refusing to pollute the environment, we had to go by tube. That meant taking the

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