Charles and Claire started whimpering dismally in their carry-cots, as if they could understand what she was saying.
‘Oh dear, they’ve started again,’ said Mum, getting to her feet.
‘I’ll see to them. You go to bed,’ said Dad.
‘You’re not even listening to me,’ said Connie.
‘They probably just need changing. They can’t need another feed,’ said Mum.
‘I’ll take a look,’ said Dad, unbuttoning both babies.
‘Dad, you’re not going to change them in the kitchen?’ said Connie, pulling a face. ‘Pooh! I’m trying to eat my breakfast.’
‘And I’m trying to keep my patience!’ said Dad. ‘What’s up with you, Connie? How can you be so rude and selfish? Why can’t you help?’
Part of Connie badly wanted to help. She hated Mum and Dad being cross with her. But she was cross, too.
‘Nobody asked me whether I wanted the twins. I’m part of this family, aren’t I? And now it’s all horrid and everyone’s cross and you all keep getting on to me. You don’t know what it’s like for me. I wish there was some way I could make you understand,’ Connie wailed.
Just then the doorbell went. ‘It’ll be Granny,’ said Mum thankfully.
But it wasn’t Granny. It was the District Nurse, come to check up on Mum and the babies.
‘Hello there. I’m Nurse Meade,’ she said, smiling.
Connie smiled back, suddenly not feeling so cross. Nurse Meade had a friendly face and a bright blue frock and her long black hair was twisted into dozens of little plaits fastened with tiny blue glass beads.
‘Oh, I do like your hair!’ said Connie.
‘Do you, sweetheart?’ said Nurse Meade, bustling into the kitchen and nodding and smiling at Mum and Dad and the two bawling babies. ‘Well, tell you what. While Dad carries on changing your new baby brother and sister and Mum pops back to bed I’ll give you one little plait of your own, eh?’
She lifted Connie up on to the draining board and twiddled with her hair. It seemed to be only a few seconds before Connie had her own tiny twisted plait bobbing about her ear. Nurse Meade even fastened it with two of her own blue glass beads.
‘There. Don’t you look pretty now,’ said Nurse Meade, showing Connie her reflection in the kettle. ‘You watch out for those blue beads now. They’re magic.’
‘Magic?’ said Connie, laughing. Who was Nurse Meade kidding?
‘Magic,’ said Nurse Meade, nodding her head vigorously, so that all the blue glass beads on the ends of her own plaits swung and sparkled in the sunlight.
5. New Grannies
Connie didn’t think much of Nurse Meade’s magic beads. She glanced over at the babies and twiddled one bead wistfully . . . but little Claire and little Charles carried right on crying in their cots.
Connie went off to school with Dad. She was very late and Miss Peters was cross which wasn’t at all fair, because it really wasn’t Connie’s fault. At least Connie had managed to miss half the dreaded arithmetic lesson, but all the children had been told to get into pairs for a measuring and weighing project. Karen was always Connie’s partner, but Connie hadn’t been there and Karen had paired up with Angela Robinson. Connie couldn’t stick Angela Robinson. She went to ballet and was always showing off all the different dances she could do.
When it was playtime Connie wanted to have a good long moan to Karen about the twins. Karen didn’t seem too keen. She wanted to prance about in the playground with Angela.
‘That’s not fair,’ said Connie.
‘You’re my friend, not Angela’s.’
‘Yes, well, I want to be Angela’s friend too,’ said Karen, and she pointed her toes and did a sort of twiddly skip towards Angela.
Connie didn’t point her toes and do the twiddly skip. She hunched up in a corner of the playground by herself. She twiddled the blue beads instead of her legs, but wish as she might, Karen and Angela didn’t trip mid-twiddle and fall down on their bottoms.
‘Magic!’ Connie sighed. ‘There’s no such thing. I didn’t really believe that Nurse Meade.’
When they went back into the classroom, Angela said in a very loud voice that she thought Connie’s hair looked stupid with one silly plait sticking out like that. Karen said she agreed. Connie said nothing at all. She decided she wasn’t Karen’s friend any more. She didn’t seem to be anyone’s friend at the moment. Not even Mum and Dad and Granny.
‘It’s all because of those twins,’ Connie brooded. ‘They’ve made everything horrid. And they’ve made me horrid too, so that no one likes me any more.’
She felt very miserable indeed as she trailed across the playground at going home time. Karen usually came out with her, arm in arm, but Karen was busy arabesquing with Angela. Connie peered round for Granny. She hoped she wouldn’t give her a little lecture about being naughty. She didn’t want to be naughty. Granny didn’t understand what it was like.
Connie pulled on her plait, twiddling the blue beads so agitatedly that they clinked together. There was a weird little blue spark at the corner of her eye. Connie blinked. Ah, there was Granny. No, wait a minute. There were two other women pushing in front of her. They were waving and smiling and calling.
‘Hello, Connie, sweetheart!’
‘Ah, don’t you look pretty, pet! Here, would you like some chocolate, darling, I’m sure you’re a bit peckish.’
‘And we’ll buy you an ice cream from the van. A giant 99 with strawberry sauce.’
‘We’ve got a surprise for you too, Connie! We’ve been busy knitting for our favourite little granddaughter.’
Connie’s mouth was wide open in wonder. So was Granny’s.
‘What . . .? Who . . .?’ Granny stammered. Then she recovered a little, and barged between them. ‘Now get this straight! Connie is my granddaughter.’
‘She’s our granddaughter too, now.’
‘That’s right. We’re her new twin grannies.’
They smiled twin grins and each took one of Connie’s hands.
‘But this is ridiculous! You can’t possibly be Connie’s grannies. She’s only got one granny – and that’s me!’ Granny protested.
‘You’re her old granny.’
‘We’re her new twin grannies and we’re much nicer, aren’t we, Connie?’
The new twin grannies were remarkably like Connie’s real granny. They were the same height as Granny – but they were several stone lighter. They were wearing the same suit as Granny – but theirs looked much smarter. They had the same grey hair as Granny – but they had obviously just been to the hairdresser. They looked quite a lot younger than Granny, too.
Connie didn’t know what to say. The twin grannies squeezed her hands, pulling her out of the playground and along the road. Connie’s real granny had to trot along behind.
‘You like us best, don’t you, Connie? Would you like a Mars Bar or a KitKat? No, I know, a Mars Bar and a KitKat.’
‘Of course you like us best. How about a jumbo ice lolly after your ice cream?’
‘Yes, please!’ said Connie. ‘I do like you both. Very much.’
There was a little wail from Connie’s real granny as she puffed along the pavement, desperate to keep up.
‘Can we slow down a bit?’ said Connie. ‘My other granny’s getting left behind.’
‘Good job, too. She’s so bossy and bad-tempered.’
‘Can’t be bothered with you half the time. You don’t want her.’
Connie’s real granny gave a moan and stumbled, nearly falling.
‘Granny!’ said Connie. She stopped. She swung her arms and snatched her hands away from the new twin grannies. ‘I like you. Well, I think I do. But I like my other granny, too. I like her just as much as you.’
‘Oh, Connie!’ said Granny and she straightened herself up and hugged Connie tight. They had a very long and loving hug. And when they looked up at last the new twin grannies had gone.
6. Purple Puddles
Granny bought C
onnie an ice cream from the van on the way home from school. A giant 99 with strawberry sauce. She didn’t mention a jumbo lolly or a Mars Bar or a KitKat but Connie knew she’d better not push her luck.
‘Thanks ever so, Granny,’ she said, licking happily.
‘You’d better not tell your mum,’ said Granny.
Connie and Granny looked at each other. Connie decided Granny didn’t mean the ice cream. Granny glanced over her shoulder, checking that there was no one else around. Especially not another granny or two.
‘Course I won’t tell,’ said Connie, slurping up strawberry sauce.
She felt quite a lot better. When they got home Connie called out a chirpy, ‘Hi there, Mum,’ the moment she got in the front door.
‘Sh!’ Mum hissed.
‘Waaaaa!’ wailed Charles.
‘Waaaaa!’ wailed Claire. ‘Oh no,’ said Mum. ‘For goodness sake, Connie! I’d just spent the last twenty minutes rocking them, trying to get them to nod off. And now you’ve got them started all over again.’
‘I only said hello,’ said Connie, wounded. ‘I didn’t know the babies were asleep.’
‘Well, they’re certainly not asleep now,’ Mum said grimly.
‘I’ll see to them, dear,’ said Granny. ‘Then I’d better get home to Grandpa. Connie, you go and put the kettle on, there’s a darling. I’m sure Mum could do with a cup of tea.’
Connie went into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle. She decided to be really helpful even though Mum hadn’t been very welcoming. She laid the tray with cups and saucers and set out some biscuits from the tin. She nibbled a biscuit or two herself as she was feeling peckish, in spite of the giant 99 ice cream.
The twins were still yelling furiously in the other room. They sounded more than a bit peckish themselves.
Connie fixed herself a drink of blackcurrant juice. Karen’s baby sister Susie loved blackcurrant juice. She’d glug so much she generally looked as if she was wearing purple lipstick. Maybe baby Charles and baby Claire might fancy a drink of juice?
Connie fished out two baby bottles from the sterilizing unit and filled them up with diluted blackcurrant juice. The bottles were a bit fiddly, and she had a job fixing on the rubber teats. Her fingers slipped, her hand shook . . . and suddenly there was a crash. The bottle didn’t break but as it skidded across the kitchen floor it sprayed purple juice all over everything.
‘What was that?’ Mum called, and she came hurrying into the kitchen. She didn’t look where she was going and stepped right into a purple puddle.
‘What on earth . . .? Oh Connie!’
‘I was just trying to help, Mum,’ said Connie.
‘Oh yes, this is a big help,’ said Mum, crossly, getting the floor mop. ‘Why were you playing around with the babies’ bottles? I shall have to scrub them out and sterilize them all over again.’
‘I thought they’d like a drink of blackcurrant juice, that’s all,’ said Connie.
‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Connie, they’re far too little for that sort of drink. Why couldn’t you just do as you were told?’
‘You told me you wanted me to help you,’ said Connie.
‘Well, now I’m telling you to leave well alone,’ said Mum, wringing out the sticky purple cloth and dabbing at the stains on her slippers.
‘All right,’ said Connie, and she flounced off upstairs.
It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t dropped the wretched bottle on purpose. She couldn’t seem to do anything right. Mum didn’t even seem to want to talk to her any more.
Connie flopped on to her bed, moodily picking at the patches on her quilt. She remembered she wasn’t talking to Karen either. Karen and Angela had gone off together after school. She couldn’t understand what Karen saw in that awful Angela.
‘She looks really daft when she dances,’ Connie mumbled to herself.
She got up off the bed to do an imitation of Angela dancing, sticking out her feet and waggling her bottom rather a lot. She caught sight of herself in her mirror and giggled. She attempted several Angela-style leaps in the air, and landed with a thump.
There was a distant wail. And another.
‘Connie!’ Mum sounded very cross indeed. ‘Whatever are you doing now? How dare you jump about like that! You’ve woken the twins again. Are you being deliberately naughty?’
‘No!’ said Connie, flinging herself back on her bed.
She was in trouble again and it really wasn’t fair. She wasn’t being naughty. Mum didn’t understand.
Connie buried her head in her pillow. She fiddled with her hair for comfort. Her fingers found her new little plait. She twiddled the two blue beads and they clinked together and even in the dark depths of her pillow Connie saw a strange blue spark . . .
7. Fun Mums
There was a knock on Connie’s bedroom door. Two knocks. ‘Are you in there, Connie dear?’
‘May we come in, poppet?’ Connie sat up straight. She swallowed.
‘Who is it?’ she called, tentatively.
‘It’s Mum, darling.’
‘Surely you know your own mum?’
Two twin mums stepped into Connie’s bedroom and smiled at her. They looked a lot like her own old mum, but these twins were much more glittery and glossy. They were both wearing Mum’s sparkly sequined evening dress and they were wearing Mum’s rings and bracelets and necklaces all at once, so that they jingled as they walked. They’d sprayed on so much flowery scent that Connie sneezed.
‘Do you like our perfume, darling?’ ‘
Would you like a little squirt, mmm?’
They produced twin bottles and sprayed Connie’s neck and wrists, while she wriggled and giggled.
‘Connie?’ It was Connie’s own ordinary mum calling up the stairs. ‘Connie, what are you up to now? What’s that smell? You’re not playing around with my birthday present perfume, are you?’
‘No, Mum,’ Connie called truthfully.
Mum wasn’t convinced. She came plodding purposefully up the stairs.
‘Connie, I’m getting very cross with you. You’re telling me fibs, aren’t you? The whole house reeks of perfume.’
She barged into Connie’s bedroom and then stood stock-still in her stained slippers, staring at the new twin mothers.
‘Who are you?’ she gasped.
‘We’re Connie’s new twin mums, of course.’
‘Don’t you ever knock when you come into our Connie’s bedroom?’
‘She’s not your Connie. She’s mine!’
‘Oh, you’re only her old mum. She’s got us now.’
‘We’re much much nicer, aren’t we, Connie? Here, would you like to play Grown-up Ladies, sweetie? Try stepping out in my high heels.’
She kicked off her glittery dance shoes and Connie tried them on, staggering a few steps across her carpet.
‘Those are my shoes!’ said Mum. ‘Take them off at once, Connie. I told you, you’ll twist your ankle.’
‘She’s all gloom and doom, that old mum of yours, isn’t she, Connie? We’re much more fun.’
‘Would you like to mess about with our make-up, darling? You’d look so cute with a little lipstick and eyeshadow.’
‘Look, will you stop this nonsense!’ Mum shouted. ‘You can’t come bursting into my house and taking over my daughter like this. I’m Connie’s mum and that’s my make-up and that’s my best evening dress you’re wearing. And I don’t know how, but you’re wearing it, too. So both of you, take it off!’
‘But it doesn’t fit you any more, does it?’
‘You’ve got much too fat.’
‘We stick to our diet and fitness programme.’
‘Cottage cheese and celery sticks and aerobics every day!’
‘Am I going to have to eat cottage cheese and celery too?’ said Connie, smearing blue eyeshadow on her lids and then blinking up at her new twin mums.
‘Of course not, sweetheart. You’re a growing girl. We’ll cook you your favourite spaghetti bolognese every day, and yo
u can have strawberry pavlova for pudding. Your old mum only gives you that on your birthday, doesn’t she?’
‘Look, I’m worn out and rushed off my feet at the moment. I haven’t got time to cook,’ said Mum, miserably.
‘We make time. And we’re much much much busier than you.’
‘That’s right. We go out to work. We have our own office and we earn lots of money.’
‘So did I, once. But the twins are so little, they need me at home,’ said Mum. ‘And Connie needs me too, don’t you, Connie?’ She looked at Connie rather desperately.
‘Of course I need you, Mum,’ said Connie, putting a lipstick smile on her face.
‘But she needs us more. You can’t be in two places at once. We can. One of us can go out to work and one of us can stay home and chat to Connie, easy peasy.’
‘Those babies are bawling downstairs. You’d better go and see what they want now.’
The twin mums took hold of her and turned her towards the door.
‘But what does Connie want?’ said Mum, struggling.
‘I want you, Mum,’ said Connie, and she pushed past the two twin mums and pulled her own mum free of them.
They cuddled up close on Connie’s bed and they didn’t even notice the twin mothers sliding out of the door.
8. Best Friends
‘I don’t think I’m ever going to squeeze into this again,’ said Mum, sighing. She’d found her own sparkly evening dress at the back of her wardrobe and was holding it up against herself. ‘You might as well have it for dressing up, Connie,’ said Mum, handing it to her.
‘Oh, Mum! Really? Wow!’ said Connie, jumping up and down.
‘And I’ll find you some of my make-up – just the old bits and pieces, mind, not any of my good stuff – and we can make you up properly if you want. You look like a clown at the moment,’ said Mum, rubbing at Connie’s face with a tissue.
Connie pulled on Mum’s frock over her T-shirt and perched on a chair while Mum started fussing around her, pretending to be a lady in a beauty salon.