I wondered what my dad would do if I called him stupid.
Mr Marshall’s conjuring act went on a little too long and some of the girls started chatting amongst themselves.
‘Can’t we have our swim now?’ Skye asked.
‘You need to let your tea go down properly first,’ said Mrs Marshall. ‘Let’s all give Mr Bumble a clap and then we’ll play a nice quiet party game.’
She fetched a big tray full of twenty tiny objects and told us to look at them carefully. I stared hard, memorizing everything. There was a watch, nail varnish, lipstick, ring, rubber spider, plaster, pencil sharpener, flower, matches, bottle opener, tape measure, straw, key, nail, postcard, stamp, little scissors, thermometer, perfume and a very tiny teddy in striped pyjamas. Everyone went ‘Aaah!’ when they spotted the little teddy because he looked so cute.
Mrs Marshall covered the tray with a big cloth and gave us each pens and paper.
‘Write down as many things on the tray as you can remember,’ said Mrs Marshall.
There was a great groan.
‘That’s not fair! I was just looking at that little teddy,’ said Skye. ‘Let me have another look at the tray.’
She went to twitch the cover off.
‘Certainly not, Skye!’ said Mrs Marshall.
‘But I don’t know what else was on the wretched tray!’
‘I’m afraid that’s just your bad luck,’ said Mrs Marshall.
She said it cheerily, but I started to wonder if she didn’t like Skye either, even though she was Rhona’s best friend.
I closed my eyes and saw a picture of the tray inside my head. I opened my eyes and started scribbling quickly on my piece of paper. Everyone else was moaning and sighing and conferring. I didn’t need to. I wrote: watch, nail varnish, lipstick, ring, spider, plaster, sharpener, flower, matches, bottle opener, tape measure, straw, key, nail, postcard, stamp, scissors, thermometer, perfume . . . and tiny teddy.
‘Wow, look at Beauty! She’s written a huge long list,’ said Rhona.
‘Oh, that Ugly! It’s just the sort of stupid swotty thing she would do. I think this is a boring game. Can’t we play something else?’ said Skye.
‘No, let’s carry on. I think this is a good game,’ said Emily, who was writing rapidly too.
She ended up with twenty answers and was sure she’d won – but when Mrs Marshall checked she’d made up four items.
‘Still, sixteen correct is positively brilliant,’ said Arabella. ‘I could only come up with five. Still, at least I’m not bottom.’ She glanced at Skye, who had only written one word – teddy.
‘I wasn’t playing,’ Skye said quickly. ‘So, well done, Emily, you’ve won.’
‘No, no,’ said Mrs Marshall, running her finger down my list. ‘Beauty’s won. She’s got every single item right. That’s brilliant, sweetheart!’
Skye groaned and pulled a face. ‘Trust Ugly,’ she said.
She said it loud enough for Mrs Marshall to hear. She frowned at Skye and then turned to me.
‘Well done, Beauty. You get the little teddy bear as your prize.’
‘Oh, lucky Beauty,’ they all said.
Rhona picked the tiny teddy off the tray and tucked him in the palm of my hand.
‘I’m glad you won him, Beauty,’ she said.
There was a quiz game after that. I knew all the answers in the history and literature and geography sections. I started to worry that it wouldn’t be polite to win this game too – but I could only answer one question in the television section and none at all in pop music and famous celebrities, so I didn’t win anything. Emily did win this time, though she didn’t get a tiny teddy, she just won a pen and notebook.
‘Now can we go for a swim?’ Skye whined.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mrs Marshall brightly. ‘Change in Rhona’s bedroom. The pool’s outside. Take a running jump. Be my guest.’
Some of the girls were wearing their swimming costumes under their clothes so it was easy for them to get changed quickly and decently. I struggled to unbuckle Mum’s shoes, wriggle out of my tights and get my knickers off without anyone looking. I wished I was a lot smaller and my white skirt more voluminous.
‘Look at old Ugly showing off her bum,’ said Skye. ‘Wibble wobble, wibble wobble.’
She cast off her own tiny skirt and top in two shakes. She was wearing an emerald green bikini, high cut so that it made her slender legs look longer than ever. She twisted her long fair hair into a knot on top of her head and secured it with a green hair clasp.
Most of the girls had similar cool glamorous swimsuits. Arabella had a red halter-neck bikini and she looked very grown up in it, though she had to keep tugging at the top to keep it in place.I had a silly baby costume, pale blue patterned with ice-cream cones. It was last year’s costume, because I hardly ever went swimming. It clung to me, emphasizing my tummy. I sucked it in as far as I could. It felt as if they were all staring at me. I felt incredibly self-conscious padding across the carpet and out into the hall. I clutched the tiny teddy for comfort.
Mrs Marshall smiled at me.
‘I don’t think that teddy is really into swimming,’ she said.
‘I’m not sure I am either,’ I said.
I could swim breast stroke, I’d had proper lessons, but I couldn’t risk getting my new hairdo wet. I let the others jump wildly into the pool and caper about. I sat hunched on the edge, feet dang-ling in the water. I tried to keep my stomach sucked in, hanging on tight to Teeny Teddy.
Rhona came and sat beside me. She was wearing a tankini, a pink-and-white top with little shorts. Her tummy stuck out a little too but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
‘I’m so glad you got to win the little teddy, Beauty,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a twin one just like him, with those sweet little pyjamas, only mine’s got red stripes instead of blue.’
‘What do you call yours?’
‘Teddy!’
‘Oh, Rhona, he’s got to have a proper name!’
‘Well, I don’t know. What are you going to call your teddy?’
I sat him in the palm of my hand, staring at his little furry face. He had a long snout and a serious expression. He might be tiny but he certainly wasn’t a baby.
‘I think he’s quite elderly in teddy years. He’s wearing the sort of pyjamas that grandpas wear. I think I’ll call him . . . Nicholas Navybear.’
Rhona giggled. ‘That’s a great name. OK, so what can mine be called?’
‘You said your teddy’s got red pyjamas, so yours can be Reginald Redted.’
‘Perfect!’ said Rhona, giggling.
‘Rhona! Get in the pool!’ Skye shouted.
Rhona laughed and kicked her legs, splashing. ‘In a minute,’ she said cheerily.
I wished I had Rhona’s happy-go-lucky knack of being friends with everyone.
‘You’d better name all my other birthday bears too, Beauty,’ said Rhona.
‘Rhona, Rhona, Rhona! Get in the pool! We want to give you your birthday bumps,’ Skye shouted.
‘I’m talking to Beauty just this second,’ said Rhona.
‘Who wants to talk to boring old Ugly?’ said Emily.
‘Don’t call her that,’ said Rhona.
‘Come on, jump in the pool,’ said Arabella.
‘Rhona! Come here!’ Skye yelled imperiously.
Rhona raised her eyebrows. ‘Watch this!’ she muttered to me.
She stood up, took a running jump, tucked her knees up and landed right beside Skye, totally capsizing her. I couldn’t help laughing. Skye spluttered to the surface, shaking her head. She blinked – and saw me grinning.
‘Oh, so you think it’s funny, do you, Ugly?’ said Skye. ‘Well, come and join in the fun with us then.’
She swam three strokes towards me and tugged hard on my ankles. I shrieked as I shot into the water, right over my head. When I surfaced, gasping, Skye screamed with laughter.
‘Look at Ugly! Her curls are all unravelling! She??
?s getting unscrewed!’
I put my hands up to my hair. What would Dad say now? I tried winding one of the curls quickly round my fingers but it wouldn’t go back into shape.
I had both hands free.
Oh no!
Nicholas Navybear had drowned.
Seven
I dived down looking for him. Rhona dived too. Everyone dived, even Arabella and Emily.
‘You dive too, Skye,’ said Rhona. ‘You’re the best at diving and it’s your fault for yanking Beauty into the water like that.’
‘It was just a joke,’ said Skye sulkily, but she dived too.
I dived until my eyes streamed and my heart thumped. I was desperate to find little Nicholas. I’d only owned him for twenty minutes but I already loved him with all my heart.
I couldn’t find him. Rhona couldn’t find him. Arabella and Emily and all the others couldn’t find him. Skye couldn’t find him, though she swam a whole length underwater looking for him.
‘I think we’d better call off the teddy search, girls. You’re all getting a bit blue and goose-pimply. Out you all get!’ said Mrs Marshall, handing out warm towels.
I tried one last dive, holding my breath and keeping my eyes wide open, my hands scrabbling sideways across the pool tiles like pink crabs. There was no sign of Nicholas Navybear.
‘Come along, Beauty, you must get out now,’ said Mrs Marshall, hauling me out and wrapping a big towel round me.
Mr Marshall was in charge of the hot chocolate to warm us all up.
‘Don’t look so upset, sweetheart,’ he said to me, popping two extra marshmallows into my mug. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find you another little teddy.’
He was so kind I felt tears pricking my eyes.
‘Oh, lordy, look at old Ugly. She’s blubbing just because she’s lost her little teddy-weddy,’ Skye muttered.
‘You can be so mean sometimes, Skye,’ said Rhona.
She ran off, towel wrapped round her like a toga. When Rhona came back she had something clutched in her hand. Something small and furry, in striped pyjamas.
‘Rhona’s found him!’ said Arabella.
‘No, no, this is my teddy,’ said Rhona. She thrust him into my hand. ‘But he’s yours now, Beauty.’
‘I can’t take Reginald Redted!’ I said.
‘Yes, of course you can. I’ve just got heaps of new birthday teddies. So you have Reginald Redted.’
‘Reginald Redted!’ said Skye, rolling her eyes. ‘What kind of mad name is that?’
‘I think it’s a brilliant name,’ said Rhona. ‘Beauty made it up.’
‘Oh, well, no wonder it’s so weird,’ said Skye. She blew out her cheeks and stuck out her stomach, pretending to be me. ‘Weginald Wedted,’ she said. She was supposed to be imitating me, though I haven’t got a lisp. It didn’t matter so much that Skye was being horrible, not when Rhona was being so extra-specially lovely to me.
‘I’ll look after him so carefully, Rhona – but I won’t keep him for ever. I’ll give him back to you at school on Monday,’ I suggested. ‘We’ll share him, OK?’
‘Yes, that’s a great idea,’ said Rhona. ‘We’ll be co-parents. Cool!’
‘We’ll have to have a little teddy bear’s picnic for him, with very tiny honey sandwiches.’
‘Oh yes! You have such good ideas, Beauty,’ said Rhona.
I beamed at her.
‘I’m so glad you’ve cheered up, Beauty,’ said Mrs Marshall. ‘Now, you girls must all go and get changed out of your costumes. Your mums and dads will be here to collect you any minute now.’
I prayed hard inside my head as I struggled back into my frilly blouse and pleated skirt: Please let Mum fetch me, don’t let it be Dad!
Wonderfully, it was Mum, looking shy and anxious, nibbling her lip, not really joining in any of the conversations with the other mums. Most of them didn’t realize she was a mum.
I thanked Mr and Mrs Marshall for having me and then I thanked Rhona all over again for Reginald Redted.
‘He’s our Reggie now. He’s a very lucky bear to have two mothers,’ said Rhona, and she gave me a big hug.
‘This is a bear hug,’ I said, and we both laughed.
‘Bye, Beauty,’ said Rhona.
‘Bye, Ugly-Wugly,’ Skye called. She was collected by her Polish au pair.
‘What did that girl call you?’ Mum asked, as we got in the car.
‘Oh, just silly stuff,’ I said quickly.
‘Did she call you Ugly?’ said Mum. ‘How dare she! I’ve a good mind to go back and slap her!’
‘It’s just her stupid nickname for me.’
‘Do they all call you that?’
‘Rhona doesn’t.’
‘So all the others do?’ Mum sounded as if she was going to burst into tears.
I clutched Reginald Redted for courage. I tried to smile at Mum reassuringly.
‘It’s no big deal, Mum, honestly. We’ve all got nicknames. One of the girls is called Poo-poo. It’s just their idea of fun.’
‘Mm,’ said Mum. ‘I still think Ugly is a horrid nickname. Can’t they call you something else?’
‘They do sometimes,’ I said, but I knew Weirdo, Wobblybum, Brainbox and the new Corkscrew weren’t necessarily any kinder than Ugly.
‘I think you’ll have to invent a nice nickname for yourself,’ said Mum. ‘Let me think.’
She drove slowly, humming along to the music on the car radio.
‘They used to call me Dilly Daydream at school. And your dad used to be called Cookie because of his surname. Your surname. Can’t your new nickname be Cookie?’
I thought about it. I quite liked the name Cookie. It sounded funny and bouncy and happy. Not really like me.
‘I can’t just get them to start calling me Cookie,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t really work like that, Mum. They decide what they’re going to call me.’
‘Mm,’ said Mum again. ‘Well, we’ll find a way of encouraging them along the Cookie route.’
She took one hand off the steering wheel and patted my shoulder sympathetically. She very gently tugged a lock of my damp hair. ‘That was a bit of a waste of fifty quid,’ she said.
‘Will Dad be mad, do you think?’ I asked.
‘Maybe,’ said Mum, sighing.
Dad was mad. He usually came home jolly after a day’s golf but we knew as soon as we heard the door slam and the thump thump as he threw his shoes in the rack that he was furious. He stamped into the living room in his socks and poured himself a large whisky, barely looking at us.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mum, in her sweetest trying-to-please voice. ‘Didn’t you have a good game, darling?’ She made a little shooing motion to me so I started sidling out of the room.
‘I won both games, as a matter of fact,’ said Dad, glaring at her. ‘My golf swing is pretty lethal at the moment – and I was playing with a bunch of blithering idiots. I just don’t get it. I’ve given them every incentive. It would be so simple for them to fix things for me, but they all witter on about their hands being tied. It’s so frustrating sucking up to the lot of them all day long and getting nowhere, absolutely blooming nowhere.’
I dithered in the doorway.
‘Is this the Water Meadows deal?’ said Mum. ‘I thought you said it was all sewn up.’
‘Some cowardly nincompoop unstitched it all. He says there’s no way they’ll ever grant planning permission.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Mum.
‘Oh dear! That’s a bit of a limp reaction. Is that all you’ll say when the guys I owe start clamouring for their money and I haven’t got the wherewithal to pay them? Will you just say “Oh dear” when the entire business goes down the pan and we’re out of this lovely house, sitting in the gutter looking stupid?’
I crept into the hall, biting my nails.
‘Gerry, don’t. You know you’ll sort things out, you always do. Come on, put your feet up, relax a little. Shall I run you a hot bath?’
‘You can get me a hot m
eal; I’m starving. Shove any old muck in the microwave, as if I care. I didn’t pick you for your culinary skills, I picked you for your looks.’
I hated the way Dad talked to Mum as if she was some silly doll.
‘Hot meal coming right up, darling,’ said Mum.
She sounded like a doll too, as if someone had pulled a tab in her back to make her parrot a few silly phrases. I knew she was simply trying to sweet-talk him out of his mood but it still made me squirm.
It seemed to be working though.
‘You’re certainly looking good tonight, babe,’ Dad said. ‘Like the hair! It’s perked up a treat. So what about Beauty? Let’s see her new hairdo.’
‘Oh, Beauty’s upstairs,’ Mum said loudly. ‘She got tired out at her party.’
I scooted up the stairs two at a time but I was still wearing Mum’s high heels. I tripped over, bumping my knees.
‘Beauty?’ said Dad, going to the door. ‘Oi, Beauty, I’m talking to you. Come downstairs into the light. Let’s have a proper squint at you.’
I walked down the stairs, holding my breath.
‘Good God, you’re a right sight!’ said Dad. ‘You look uglier than ever!’
I felt the tears pricking my eyes. I pressed my lips together, trying hard not to cry.
‘Gerry, shut up,’ said Mum.
‘Don’t you dare tell me to shut up in my own house!’ Dad said. ‘What in God’s name have they done to the kid? She’s all over rat’s tails.’
He took hold of me and tugged my hair in disgust.
‘Stop it! Don’t you dare hurt her!’ said Mum.
‘I’m barely touching her. So did you actually pay good money – my good money – for this terrible hairdo, Dilly?’
‘It was a silly idea to start with. Beauty’s just a little girl, she doesn’t need fancy hairdos. It didn’t really suit her, all those curls. Then it was a swimming party, so of course she got wet.’
‘I thought you were just going to paddle, Beauty? What’s the matter with you? Whatever made you dunk yourself head-first in the pool and ruin your hair? Don’t you want to look pretty? Don’t pull that silly face, nibble nibble at your lip like a blessed rabbit. Stand up straight, don’t hunch like that, sticking out your stomach!’