3. Nova and Her Mum
‘When I was at school, my cookery teacher told us the secret to rolling out good pastry was “Short, sharp strokes away from you! Short, sharp strokes away from you.”’ Mum matched the words to the actions, her hands on the rolling pin moving in brisk, precise strokes across the pastry on the kitchen table. ‘And I find it actually works! I’ve never rolled out uneven pastry in my life!’
Nova entered the kitchen, only to stop short at the sound of her mum’s voice. Mum was a cookery superstar again! Whenever she was alone in the kitchen, she always pretended to be some really famous cook whose every culinary move was watched by millions to copy, learn from and enjoy.
‘And I find there’s something very soothing about cooking foods high in carbohydrates. Beating cakes. Kneading dough. Rolling pastry. Very therapeutic. Very satisfying,’ Mum continued, totally unaware that she was being watched. ‘Take this pastry I’m rolling, for instance. Now, the guests brave enough – or broke enough – to eat dinner here may say that my puff pastry is as light as a brick, but they’re missing the point. Making pastry stops me from throttling some of them. Beating cake mixture works out all the little stresses and strains of everyday life. And as for kneading bread dough – now that’s a life saver. I even keep batches of bread dough in the fridge in case of emergencies. I have a little song I made up which goes to the heart of what I’m trying to say. It goes like this.’ Turning her head away from the pastry before her, Mum coughed a couple of times to clear her throat before she began:
‘When the kids start,
When the bills come,
When the guests complain.
I simply remember where I’ve put my dough,
And then I’m as right
As rain!
‘Oh, yes, there’s nothing like a big dollop of bread dough,’ Mum concluded.
‘Mum, that’s about seventeen signs of madness all rolled into one, that is!’
Mum jumped so high, Nova thought she’d have to scrape her off the ceiling. ‘It’s not polite to listen to private conversations,’ Mum ranted, when her feet touched the ground again.
‘And it’s not sane to pretend you’re being filmed every time you break out a saucepan,’ Nova pointed out.
‘Was there something in particular you wanted or are you just here to make my life a misery?’ Mum asked.
‘What’re you doing?’ Nova came further into the room.
‘Making pastry, dear. What does it look like?’
‘Who cheesed you off then?’
‘No one. Sometimes I make pastry because I’m cooking something that requires pastry.’ Mum frowned. ‘Besides, you’re the one who’s got a funny look on your face.’
‘No I haven’t.’
‘Yes you have. Your eyebrows are knotted together so tightly, it’d take Alexander the Great to sort them out.’
‘Who’s he then? A footballer?’ grinned Nova.
Mum shook her head. ‘What do they teach you at school these days?’
‘Things that are far more useful than the dreary stuff you learned,’ Nova replied. ‘And I know who Alexander the Great was. He was the son of Alexander the Average.’
‘You were telling me why you’ve got a face on?’ Mum said patiently.
‘I had to get away from Miss Dawn.’
‘Why?’
‘She was going on and on about toilets and how lucky we are that they’re so comfortable!’
Mum burst out laughing.
‘I like her but she is really strange.’ Nova shook her head.
‘She’s in the perfect place then. Strange is what we do best at this hotel,’ said Mum.
‘Yeah, but there’s something very odd about her. And that other woman, Miss Eve. Why do they travel around together? They’re always sniping at each other,’ Nova wondered out loud.
‘At least they don’t stab each other in the back,’ Mum pointed out. ‘They’re nasty to each other’s faces.’.
‘But why go around together then?’
‘Why not? And at that age, maybe it’s better than being alone.’
‘Is it?’ said Nova.
Mum shrugged. ‘Some people will do some really foolish things or put up with a great deal rather than be lonely.’
‘Would you?’ Nova asked.
Mum considered. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t think I would either.’
Mother and daughter exchanged a smile of perfect understanding.
‘D’you want a snack?’ asked Mum. ‘I’ve bought some rock buns or there’re some doughnuts next to the bread bin.’
‘No thanks.’
‘Not hungry?’
‘Not especially,’ Nova replied.
‘You never are,’ said Mum. ‘You only ever eat at meal times – that I’ve seen, anyway.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but it’s not normal. Not for a twelve-year-old at any rate!’
‘I’m the most normal one in this hotel,’ Nova said indignantly.
‘Which isn’t saying much!’
‘True,’ Nova agreed with a grin.
Mum’s smile faded. ‘So why d’you never eat snacks?’
Nova sighed with impatience. ‘I do eat snacks. I stuff myself with snacks.’
At Mum’s raised eyebrows, Nova insisted, ‘It’s true.’
‘You don’t seem to have much of a sweet tooth either. It’s not natural,’ said Mum, more to herself than otherwise.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Nova marched over to the bread bin and helped herself to a jam doughnut from the paper bag next to it. She took a huge bite out of it, chewing rapidly as she said, ‘See!’
‘Yes, dear.’ Mum smiled and returned to her pastry. Nova finished her doughnut in four bites before licking her sugary fingers clean like a cat licking its paws.
‘Want another one?’ asked Mum.
‘Maybe later.’ Nova drifted around the kitchen, looking for something to do that would require little effort and less thought. ‘Dad’s put up one of his notices again.’
Mum sighed. ‘Oh dear! What’s this one about?’
‘Using the toilets properly.’
‘First Miss Dawn, then your father. Why is everyone fixated on their nether regions today?’ Mum frowned.
‘Don’t ask me. D’you want some help?’
‘No, I’ve got it all under control,’ Mum said hastily. ‘No offence, love, but you helping out in the kitchen is like a bull helping out in a crystal glass shop!’
‘Well, thank you very much. And when I don’t offer —’ Nova got no further.
Jude and Jake raced into the kitchen, crashing into her. ‘Ow! Can’t you two watch where you’re going?’ she stormed at them.
Only seconds behind them sprinted Rainbow, Nova’s older sister. ‘Mum, tell those little nappy squirts to stay out of my room or I’ll. . . I’ll torture them,’ she raged, snatching at her brothers.
Jake and Jude ducked under and around the table, trying to keep out of reach of both Rainbow and Nova. The twins hid behind Mum as Rainbow did her best to grab first one, then the other, without much success.
‘Raye, calm down. Nova, they bashed into you by accident so back off. OK, you two, what’ve you been up to?’ Mum had to sidestep, then front-step to keep between Rainbow and the twins. It looked as if she were line dancing.
‘They’ve been in my room, searching through my things – that’s what they’ve been doing,’ Rainbow fumed. ‘Mum, I want a lock on my door and if you don’t get someone to do it, I’ll do it myself.’
‘Jude, is that true? Were you two searching through Raye’s bedroom?’
‘Only a little bit, Mum,’ Jude admitted.
‘In a pig’s eye!’ Raye exploded. ‘They’ve been through all my stuff and my room’s a mess.’
‘How can you tell?’ Mum wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. At least, Nova didn’t think she was. From the instantly apologetic look on Mum’s face, it’d obv
iously just slipped out. But it’d slipped out far enough for Rainbow to hear. Rainbow glared at Mum before she turned and marched out of the kitchen.
Mum turned to the twins. ‘Could you two please, please stay out of Rainbow’s room for the sake of my blood pressure? Not to mention my sanity!’
The twins grinned at her. ‘At least we give Rainbow something else to worry about apart from boys!’ said Jude.
‘So what did you get this time?’ Nova said eagerly. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Raye’s writing poems,’ Jake informed her solemnly.
‘No! Did you manage to get one?’
Jake lifted up his jumper and a piece of paper immediately fluttered out and onto the floor.
‘Let’s see.’ Nova bent to snatch at it but Jake got there first.
‘We’ll read it,’ he told her.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Mum warned. ‘It doesn’t belong to you and if Raye finds out you’ve got it, you’re on your own!’
‘She won’t find out, Mum. Don’t worry. Ready, Jake?’ said Jude.
‘Ready, Jude,’ Jake replied.
‘I really, really don’t recommend this,’ Mum began.
‘Never mind her. Read it,’ Nova ordered, her eyes ablaze with possibilities.
‘I want nothing to do with this.’ Mum went back to rolling out her pastry.
‘You start, Jake,’ said Jude. ‘We’ll take half each.’
Jake grinned at Nova, then he began, ‘Raye’s poem:
‘I’m a lanky, tall girl
With a cellulite body.
I’ve got a bulging stomach,
And my bum’s big like a lorry.
I’ve got biceps like a boxer
I’ve canoes instead of feet,
And when I fart – look out!
’Cos my bottom isn’t sweet!’
‘Well, that bit is certainly true.’ Jude nodded vigorously as he handed over the sheet of paper to his twin.
‘My parents are as mad as loons,
My sister’s a real pain.
My brothers are the worst of all
They’re driving me insane.
What gives me inspiration as
My life heads down the tubes?
The two things that I wouldn’t change,
My colour and my — ’
‘Give me that.’ Mum snatched the poem from Jude before he could protest. She glanced down at the writing on the page. ‘Oh, dear! Is that really how Raye sees herself?’
‘What’s she talking about – her bum’s big like a lorry!?’ Nova scoffed. ‘She’s thin as a pin. Any skinnier and I’d be able to pick my teeth with her.’
‘Why on earth would she think her dad and I are mad?
I’m the sanest person I know!’ said Mum.
‘Mum, you talk to your pastry and Dad is always hanging up peculiar notices for the guests. If that’s not barmy, then what is?’ said Nova.
‘You’re a pain! You’re a pain!’ said Jake to Nova gleefully.
‘And we’re driving her insane,’ said Jude with equal delight. ‘Yes!’
Jude and Jake gave each other a high five as a salute to a job well done.
‘Look, you two,’ said Mum urgently, ‘I don’t want Raye finding out that you snaffled one of her poems, d’you hear? She’s going through enough as it is.’
‘What’s she going through then?’ Nova asked.
‘She’s a teenager,’ Mum replied. As far as she was concerned that explained everything.
‘I can’t wait to be a teenager if it means I’ll get away with all the stuff Raye does,’ said Nova.
‘You’ve always been stroppy, Nova, so your dad and I have had a lot of practice in dealing with you. Your sister, however, is different.’
‘Thanks a lot!’ Nova stormed.
‘I didn’t mean it like that!’ Mum amended quickly. ‘I just —’
‘What does stroppy mean?’ asked Jude.
‘Awkward, stubborn, difficult – basically a pain in the neck,’ Nova supplied.
‘I just meant —’ said Mum desperately.
‘Save it, Mum!’ Nova flounced over to the fridge. Mum raised her eyes heavenwards.
‘Are we going to be like that when we become teenagers?’ Jake asked hopefully.
‘Yeah, are we?’ added Jude, with equal alacrity.
‘Over my dead body,’ Mum told them at once.
‘How come the girls get to do it and we don’t?’ Jake pouted.
‘Yeah, how come?’ Jude added.
Mum said in a long-suffering voice, ‘Why do I have the sudden urge to bake enough bread to feed every mouth in the country?’ She turned back to Rainbow’s poem, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.
Jude and Jake grinned at each other. Mum was now softened up nicely!
‘Mum, can we go and play in the attic?’ Jake asked casually.
‘Not in my bedroom,’ Nova said quickly. Half the attic space had been converted into her bedroom and she guarded her space ferociously. The other half was used for storage and contained old-fashioned trunks and dusty boxes and piles of papers that only Jude and Jake enjoyed going through.
‘Yeah, can we?’ asked Jude.
‘Can you what?’ asked Mum, preoccupied.
‘Play in the attic’
‘OK,’ said Mum.
Stunned, Nova stared at her. Mum’s brain obviously wasn’t switched on. As the twins turned to run out of the room, Mum suddenly realized what she’d been asked. She moved at greased lightning speed to grab both of them by the arm.
‘Just a minute, you two. No dropping water bombs on the heads of the guests, no dust sheets over your heads and pretending to be ghosts, no strange noises, no banana skins, no itching powder, no fake dog poo, no real cockroaches, no stink bombs, no worms in any of the beds, no fart alarms, no frogs in any of the baths. NO NONSENSE. Is that understood?’
‘Ma’am, yes, ma’am!’ Jude and Jake saluted in unison. ‘I mean it. If I hear from any of the guests that you two have been up to your usual antics, you’re both in BIG trouble.’
‘We heard,’ Jake sniffed.
‘No need to go on and on,’ Jude added, dusting the flour off his arm.
They both ran off with Mum eyeing them suspiciously. She directed a worried look at Nova.
‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Nova said. ‘Between me, Raye, Dad and the other guests, they probably won’t get away with too much. Probably.’
‘That makes me feel a whole heap better,’ Mum replied dryly.
Nova grinned at her.
Dad burst through the door. ‘Karmah, has Mr Jackman deigned to tell you how long he’s staying with us?’ he asked.
‘No, he hasn’t. And as long as we have his credit card details, he can dither as long as he likes,’ Mum replied.
Nova wondered if she had time to slide out, tear down Dad’s latest notice and duck out of sight for an hour or so until he calmed down. It was worth a try. Edging behind him, she started to sidestep silently towards the door.
‘I’m not happy with guests not letting me know how long they plan to stay. How am I meant to schedule in future bookings if I don’t know when the guests are going to leave?’ Dad complained, adding without turning round, ‘Nova, for the last time, leave my notice alone. D’you hear?’
‘What future bookings?’ Nova piped up from behind him, peeved.
Mum glared at Nova, her expression piercing. Nova knew exactly what that look meant. They’d been at the hotel for almost two years now and Dad had tried just about everything to make Phoenix Manor more popular, but nothing really took off. The hotel was set high up on the gently sloping St Bart’s Head, overlooking St Bart’s Bay. To the front of the hotel there were stunning views across the bay to the sea beyond. The formal gardens behind the hotel merged into Siren’s Copse. Underground tunnels criss-crossed the land for miles around – tunnels where, centuries before, smugglers were rumoured to have brought silks and brandy ashore from continental Euro
pe, using the secret underground passages to hide from the authorities. There was meant to be a tunnel entrance hidden in the bay somewhere and another one in Siren’s Copse, but no one had ever found them. In a setting steeped in local history, the hotel should’ve been a dead certainty for success – but it wasn’t. Business was slow, not to mention a constant worry. And as Mum pointed out, Dad didn’t need his family constantly moaning on and making him feel like a failure.
‘We do all right, Nova,’ Mum said, an edge to her voice.
‘Yeah, right.’ Nova headed for the fridge. ‘I’m thirsty. Any juice or something fizzy in there?’
‘Nova Alexandra Clibbens, don’t even think about it!’ said Mum as Nova raised the orange juice carton to her lips. ‘Use a glass.’
‘What’s that?’ Dad pointed to the piece of paper, now covered in flour, beside Mum’s pastry.
Mum picked it up. ‘Oh, that’s —’
Raye marched into the room. ‘Mum, I want you to —Is that one of my poems?’
Nova wasn’t surprised that Raye had spotted it. Her sister always did have eyes like a hawk.
‘Yes, but I . . .’ Mum spluttered.
‘Mum, how could you? My poems are private and personal.’ Raye snatched it out of her mother’s hand, directing a look at her that would’ve had a weaker person gasping for breath. ‘You’re worse than the twins.’
‘So what’s so good about your boobs that you wouldn’t change them?’ Nova couldn’t resist asking.
‘Mum, I can’t believe you! You let Nova read it?’ Raye asked, scandalized.
‘Why d’you want to change your boobs, Rainbow?’ asked Dad, getting hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of plastic surgery or some other such nonsense at your age.’
‘Leave my boobs out of this,’ Raye said furiously, her beige cheeks now fiery red.
‘Raye wants to have her boobs done,’ Nova sang. ‘I do not!’
‘Raye wants to have her boobs done!’
Raye used sign language to tell Nova exactly where to go and what to do when she got there.
‘Rainbow, that’s quite enough of that,’ Dad admonished.
After glaring at Dad and scowling at Nova, Rainbow turned her attention to Mum. ‘I’m not going to forget this in a hurry,’ she snapped. ‘Thanks a lot for showing me up in front of everyone.’