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Authors: Jean Ure

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BOOK: Fruit and Nutcase
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Dad was in a really good mood that particular Saturday. He fooled around doing his Elvis act as we walked down the road and Mrs Stern that lives at No. 4 called out to him.

“Hi, Barry! When we gonna see you down the
Hand & Flower
again?”

Mrs Stern is a huge fan of Dad’s. She also does
a lot of drinking
in the
Hand & Flower.

The
Hand & Flower
is where Dad fell off the stage in the middle of his Elvis gig. But Dad had not been drinking. He is just accident prone.

When we got to the shops Dad said, “Let’s give your mum a surprise … let’s go and buy some stuff to fix that kitchen cabinet she’s always on about.”

Mum had been on about the kitchen cabinet for weeks.
Months.
It’s this little cupboardy thing that’s supposed to be fixed to the wall only one day it went and fell down right on top of me and almost knocked me out.

I didn’t half see stars!

I had to go to the hospital and have a chunk of hair cut off and six stitches, and I had this enormous great lump like a football stuck out the side of my head.

I told Miss Foster I’d slipped on the ice (it was way back last winter and it was really cold). I thought it
sounded silly to say a kitchen cabinet had fallen on me.

Like one time when the banister rail broke and I fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle, Miss Foster looked at me like she just couldn’t believe people lived in houses where that sort of thing happened. But our house is really old and it crumbles all the time. Just at the moment there was this rotten floor board on the landing. It had got rotted ‘cos of rain coming through the roof. Old houses always have leaky roofs; even ones that belong to dukes and duchesses.

I don’t know if they have cupboards that come off the walls.

Mum and Dad had a right old row about that cupboard ‘cos Mum had been telling Dad for ages it was going to come down.

“We’ll fix it for her,” said Dad. “Be like a sort of birthday treat.”

“But Mum’s already had her birthday,” I said.

Dad said OK, it would be an
in-between
birthday treat.

“And while I’m about it, I’ll knock down that wardrobe and make a shelf for you.”

Well, at least we bought the stuff for doing it with. Some things to hold it up and things for
fixing it to the wall. I mean, it was a start. It was closer than he’d ever come before.

“I’ll do it,” said Dad. “You’ll see.”

I really thought that this time he might, but I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. I know my dad! He means well, but he gets very easily sidetracked.

Like on the way back from the D.I.Y. store he wanted to get side-tracked into the betting shop, only I wouldn’t let him.

Last time he got sidetracked in the betting shop he put all the housekeeping money on a horse called
Sweet Sandy Star,
on account of Star being my mum’s name before she got married. Dad said it was such a terrific coincidence that the horse simply couldn’t lose. Only it did. It came in last. Dad’s horses always do. So after that he gave me strict instructions: “You’re not to let me go into that betting shop ever again. Understand? I’m relying on you, girl!”

It is rather a responsibility, but it made Mum really upset when he lost all the housekeeping
money. We had to beg from Nan, and Mum hates doing that.

When he’s in a good mood Dad actually thanks me for stopping him. That’s what he did that Saturday. He ruffled my hair and said, “Good old Mand! Keeping her dad on the straight and narrow.” And then he said was he allowed to just buy a couple of lottery tickets, and I said yes, because you never know, you
could
win a million pounds, it’s just that I have to be there with him or he’ll start buying scratch cards like there’s no tomorrow and that’s almost as bad as the horses. The thing is with Dad, he can’t help himself. Like Mum can’t help doing some of the daffy things she does.

They need me to look after them.

Mum was so pleased when Dad and I got home without spending the housekeeping money! Dad said, “You’ve got Mand to thank for that. She’s my guardian angel, aren’t you, poppet?” And then he showed Mum all the stuff that we’d got at the D.I.Y. All the screws and the hinges and things to make holes with and the things to put into the holes once they’d been made, and Mum said, “Oh! You’re never going to fix that kitchen cabinet at last?” Dad just grinned and said, “Only if you behave yourself.”

He didn’t do the cabinet that afternoon because of sport on the telly. Dad’s a huge sports fan! He’ll watch anything, even snooker. Mum and I don’t care for it, so I went into my room to do some more tape for Cat, and Mum went over the road to her friend Deirdre that’s just had a new baby.

Sometimes I think that Mum would quite like a new baby herself, but I expect Nan’s right and it wouldn’t be sensible. I bet I know who’d end up looking after it if she did have one! Not that I’d mind; I think babies are cute. When I grow up I’m going to have at least six. Both sexes. Maybe triplets, then I could get it over with in just two goes.

Of course I would have to find a husband first, and that might not be so easy as at the moment I happen to think that boys are the pits. We have a
lot
at our school.

They are all disgusting. Maybe they get better as they grow older. I can only hope!

When Mum came back from seeing the new baby she said to Dad, “What do you want for your tea?” and Dad said, “Something special,” and I saw Mum start to look worried ‘cos I knew that all she’d got was fish fingers or egg and chips (which as a matter of fact are two of my all-time favourite meals). Then Dad jumped up and switched off the telly and said, “Let’s go out! It’s time we treated ourselves.”

Mum got as far as saying, “But what about the—”

Gas bill, probably. Or the electricity. A bill of some kind. But when Dad gets an idea in his head there’s no stopping him. He simply pulled Mum towards him and planted this huge smacker of a kiss on her lips and roared, “Forget it! Whatever it is. Forget it! I’m tired of counting every penny! I want a good time!”

So Mum went and got dressed up in her best pink skirt and this lovely slinky blouse that has pictures of pop stars all over it, and Dad put on his best denims and his Levi jacket, and slicked his hair back like Elvis, and we went trolling up the road to the Indian restaurant.

I feel really proud of my mum and dad when they get all their gear on! If you didn’t know, you’d think probably they were on the telly, or celebrities of some kind. Mum was still going on a bit about the bills (I think Nan scared her when they had to ask for help with the electric) but Dad said—

I can’t say what he really said as Cat’s mum might not like it! I expect where she lives in Northwood they don’t say things like ••••.
*

BOOK: Fruit and Nutcase
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