Becky's Terrible Term (8 page)

Chapter One

It was Monday lunchtime at Manor Hill School. The dining hall was full to bursting and
really
noisy. Mrs Andrews, the teacher on duty, had already had a go at shushing everybody, but now she'd more or less given up. After a weekend when they could talk as much as they wanted, and then a morning in school where they were supposed to be practically silent,
lunchtime was a chance to chat – and everyone was making the most of it.

The Ryan triplets had bagged one of the choice tables in the corner by the windows. It had a good view of anything that might be going on in the rest of the dining hall, and the playground. And it was as far away from Mrs Andrews as possible. They'd had to make a dash for it right under the noses of some very snotty Year Eight girls, and there'd been some serious muttering along the lines of “How dare they?” and “Little
brats
!”
But they didn't care. (Well, Becky did, but she'd just stared very hard at the kitten on her lunchbox and pretended not to hear.) Katie and Annabel had no such qualms, and gazed back at the Year Eights, Annabel with a sunny “So what?” smile, while Katie folded her arms and cheekily dared them to make her move.

“Coward!” teased Annabel cheerfully, as she banged her lunchbox down next to Becky, and flounced on to a chair. Katie gave the Year Eights one last warning glare and sat down too. “Yeah, Becky, honestly – what did you think they were going to do to us?”

Becky flushed scarlet. “It's not fair – you two are so good at arguing! I'm brilliant at it too – half an hour after whoever it is has left I've got the best comebacks. It's just that at the time I can't think of anything to say.”

“Never mind,” comforted Annabel. “You've got us to stick up for you.”

Becky sighed. It was true, but sometimes she wished she could manage without her sisters – if she really had to.

Saima, Megan and Fran came up with their lunch trays, loaded with grim-looking school dinners.

“Excellent,” said Saima happily, “I thought Marie and her lot were going to make you move.”

The triplets grinned to each other as their friends set down their trays. Then Annabel made a face. “Fran, what
is
that?” she complained, pointing at the plate of something-and-chips on Fran's tray.

“Well . . . chips.”

“And?”

“I don't know,” Fran admitted sadly. “I was kind of dithering and the Haggis just dumped it on my plate. It
could
be shepherd's pie. That was on the menu, anyway.” Everybody looked over at the counter and giggled. They could see why Fran hadn't argued. Mrs Hagan, aka the Haggis, was the head dinner lady, and she was really
fierce.

“
I
know what that is,” said a voice over Fran's shoulder. It was Jack, a boy from their class, on his way to the next table. “It's haggis – Mrs Hagan's speciality. You know what haggis actually is, don't you?” he added, grinning at the girls.

“No,” sighed Fran, “but I have a feeling you're going to tell me. Go on.”

“Weeelll . . . basically, it's bits. Bits of sheep. But the really
special
thing. . .” Jack paused, enjoying the moment. “The
best
bit, is that it's all wrapped up in a sheep's
stomach
.
And that's what that is.” He beamed at Fran, who looked down at her dinner in dismay.

“Ohh. Are you hungry, Jack?” she asked hopefully, as everyone groaned and made sick noises.

“No. Way.” He chortled. “You're not getting rid of it that easily. Just eat the chips from round the edges, and try not to get any of the stomachy
bits. . .” Then he went to sit down, still giggling.

“He is such
a liar,” said Becky reassuringly. “I'm sure it's shepherd's pie, Fran, honestly. Jack's just teasing, you know what he's like.”

“Hmm.” Fran dug her fork into whatever-it-was, and everyone watched, fascinated, as she lifted it to her mouth. And then stopped. “No. You're probably right, Becky, but I just can't. Lucky I bought a Mars bar on the way to school this morning.” She wiped her fork on the edge of the plate and carefully started eating the very furthest chips.

Saima and Megan dug into their healthy salads (Saima's mum was very strict about healthy eating, and Megan took healthy eating very seriously because of football training) and the triplets opened up their lunchboxes.

“Wow!” Katie sounded gobsmacked.

“What?” Annabel asked, as everyone's ears pricked up.

“Mum's actually got our lunches right – look, she's given me peanut butter instead of your disgusting tuna like she usually does. And Becky's actually got her boring old cheese.”

“Weird. I'm quite used to having to swap it all round,” said Annabel through a mouthful of tuna.

“
Will
you not breathe that stuff over me! Uurgh!” Katie reeled back from tuna fumes, fanning her face in mock disgust.

A nasty snigger floated over from the next table – someone else had obviously been listening in on their conversation. The triplets and their mates united immediately in sending a freezing glare at Amy Mannering. It was a close match between Amy and super-brat Max Carter for the person in their class that they most loved to hate. At that moment Amy was winning – she was nearer.

Amy tossed her long, wavy, strawberry-blonde hair, and the triplets rolled their eyes at each other in disgust. Amy was spoilt, stupid and seriously stuck-up – in their humble opinion. Certain that she had the entire table's attention, Amy continued her conversation with her hangers-on, Emily and Cara.

“Wasn't the girl playing Eliza brilliant? She had
such
a gorgeous voice. My singing teacher” – and here Annabel rolled her eyes again, although secretly she was very jealous, as she would have loved
to have singing lessons – “says that I can start working on some of the songs from
My Fair Lady
.
I'm so glad we got to see it.”

“It was a great trip, Amy. You're so lucky,” smarmed Emily. “And we were so close to the stage – you could see everything!”

“The restaurant was fab too,” Cara chimed in. She prodded her pizza slice in disgust. “A bit different from this!”

“Oh well, of
course
,”
Amy said patronizingly, flicking a quick glance round to check that her audience was still with her. “My dad believes birthdays are
so
special. And as I'm an only child – well, he doesn't really have to scrimp and save, does he?” She smirked, carefully looking anywhere but at the triplets. “It's not as if there were
three
of me. . .”

“Thank God,” muttered Katie, and the rest of her table burst out laughing.

“There are three of her,” Becky pointed out. “Emily and Cara are just Amy without the hair.”

“Forget them,” advised Saima, firmly. “I'm sick of waiting for you three to tell us. Come on, why were you all so excited this morning? What have you been looking so secretive for all day?”

Amy and co were immediately dismissed as Fran and Megan leant in to hear the news that had made the triplets giggly all through morning classes, and positively hyper at break.

The triplets exchanged glances, their dark blue eyes sparkling with mischief in an expression that made them look more identical than ever. “Weelll. . .” said Annabel slowly.

“What?” snapped Megan and Fran, together.

“It's a secret. Triplets-only. Sorryyy!” cackled Annabel, enjoying their furious faces.

“Annabel,” purred Saima sweetly. “We all
know
how ticklish you are. You really, really want to stop messing about and tell us now – don't you?”

“OK! OK!” gasped Annabel, already feeling her hysterical laughter coming on. “Can we tell them?” she begged her sisters.

“I don't see why not – you're not going to be able to shut up about it for much longer anyway,” sighed Katie, and Becky nodded.

“Dad's coming home!” squeaked Annabel delightedly, “for all of half-term! Isn't that excellent?”

Saima, Megan and Fran understood perfectly just how excellent it was. The triplets didn't see their father very often as their parents were divorced and their dad worked abroad as an engineer. At the moment he was working on an irrigation project in Egypt, and the triplets hadn't seen him since early in the summer holidays.

“You'll all have to come round,” volunteered Becky unexpectedly. The shyest of the triplets, she tended to leave ideas like this to her sisters. “Fran and Megan haven't met Dad yet,” she pointed out, smiling at Fran. The triplets had known Saima from their old school, but they'd only got to know Megan and Fran since starting at Manor Hill that term. Fran shared Becky's complete soppiness over anything furry – especially dogs – and was the first real friend Becky'd had apart from her sisters. She was desperate for Fran to meet Dad and Dad to meet Fran. Describing her new mate in emails just wasn't the same. She was sure they'd get on.

“Definitely!” agreed Katie. “He'll really want to meet you. We can play football, Megan, he's really good, he taught me loads.”

The girls beamed at each other, full of their plan. Half-term was only two weeks away – no time at all. The triplets munched their sandwiches happily, and Fran went back to poking dismally at her plate of sheepy bits.

Annabel gazed dreamily over the dining hall, planning shopping trips where Dad bought her and Saima the coolest clothes ever. Slowly chomping a mouthful of tuna and lettuce, her eyes fell on Amy and her thoughts turned to birthdays. Birthdays! Suddenly her eyes snapped wide open, she sat bolt upright and yelped. Or she would have done, except she still had the mouthful of tuna and it went down the wrong way. The yelp came out as a strangled choking noise, and she spat gobbets of tuna all over her sister, then looked at what she'd done in absolute horror (for all of two seconds).

“Bel! Oh, you are so disgusting!” hissed Katie furiously. “Uurrgh, get it
off
me! I'm going to stink of tuna all afternoon. You did that on purpose, you, you—” she became aware of Mrs Andrews's beady eyes zeroing in on their spat, and finished off in a restrained hiss, “you
thing
!”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” chattered Annabel in excitement, flapping her hands around like a mad mime artist, and only just missing Becky who was trying to pass Katie some napkins to mop herself up with. “I've just had The Most Brilliant Idea!”

Chapter Two

Infuriatingly, Annabel refused point-blank to tell anyone but her sisters about her brilliant plan. “Sorry,” she told Saima, her best friend, sounding really apologetic for once. “But this really is triplets-only. I just can't. I'll tell you tomorrow, promise. Please don't be cross?” Annabel could be very charming when she wanted, gazing soulfully at Saima and looking as though a cross word would make her burst into tears.

Saima looked miffed, but gave in. She and Megan and Fran knew by now that being friendly with the triplets was great – they were all really sweet, in different ways – but it wasn't like being friends with anybody else. There would always, always be things they didn't understand, things that were “triplets-only”. Still, it was worth putting up with, so she grimaced, and shrugged. “OK. But you'd better
tell us tomorrow, or else. . .”

“We will. And you'll love it, honestly.”

“Excuse me!” butted in Katie. “You haven't told me and Becky either, you know. When do
we
get to hear this idea, Bel?”

“When we get home,” replied Annabel firmly. “I'll tell you all about it.”

 

The rest of Monday dragged on as Mondays do. By the end of school Katie and Becky were practically putting Annabel's jacket on for her, they so wanted to get her home and talking. For once they almost wished that Fran and Saima didn't walk home with them most days (Megan lived in the other direction), and they had to try very hard not to show it. When they saw Saima into the turning for her road and they were finally alone, Katie and Becky turned on their sister with positively hungry expressions.

“OK, OK! Don't look at me like that,” squeaked Annabel, quite unnerved. They were turning into their road now, and they could see Orlando, one of their two cats, prowling round the garden. He was waiting for Becky to get home and fuss over him, though he always pretended very hard that he just happened to be there at the same time every day. Becky made a kiss-kiss noise, and he gave her a very dignified “You think I'm going to come running?” sort of look before leaping (a bit clumsily, he was rather fat) on to the fence for her to stroke his ears.

“Becky!” snapped Annabel crossly. “I am about to tell you something very
important! Why are you messing about with that ginger furball
now
!”

Becky picked Orlando up, and he arranged himself in his favourite position, one paw each side of her neck as though he was hugging her. It gave him the perfect opportunity to direct a pitying glare from his green marble eyes across her shoulder at Annabel – they didn't get on. Becky answered over the top of his head, “I'm not stopping you, Bel. Come on, I'm desperate for a drink. Got the key, Katie?”

Katie burrowed in her jacket pocket for the door key. The triplets' mum was almost always in when they got home, normally doing her translation work at the kitchen table, but they liked having a key to let themselves in – it made them feel very independent.

“Mum! We're home!” Katie yelled, as she shoved the door open with her knee. The triplets' house was quite old, and though it was in no danger of falling down, bits of it did tend to stick or refuse to shut properly. It wasn't a good house for going downstairs to get a drink in the middle of the night – what with the doors and the cats, anyone would be convinced it was haunted before they were halfway.

“Uurgh! Well, I can't tell you now – we need to talk about it before we let Mum in on it.” Annabel chucked her jacket at the banisters frustratedly, and didn't notice a conspiratorial look passing between her sisters – and the cat. Annabel should have told them what was going on that afternoon at school. Maybe they should pay her back. This could be fun. . .

“Annabel Ryan! I heard that! Get back there and hang your jacket up in the coat cupboard. What do you think that cupboard is for?”

“Roller skates!” yelled Annabel, rolling her eyes at the other two and scooping up her jacket again. She pulled the door of the understairs cupboard open, and it let out its usual eerie screech. Then she leaned riskily across three pairs of in-line skates, a large bag of woodchip for Becky's guinea pigs and a skateboard, to reach the hooks at the back of the cupboard. “You'd better pass me yours as well while I'm here,” she said in a coat-muffled voice. “Ow!”

“What?” asked Katie worriedly, poking her fleece round the door. “Are you OK, Bel?”

“Yeah, I just stabbed myself on that stupid cat-carrier again. Those spiky bits on the door are dangerous.”

“Sorry,” called Becky, attempting a complicated one-armed jacket-removing manoeuvre without putting down Orlando, who was acting superglued because he knew it would make life difficult. “I think Mum's having one of her tidiness-fits again,” she added in a lower voice. “She doesn't normally mind if we put stuff on the banisters.”

“It probably all fell on her,” came the muffled voice again, accompanied by an impatient hand. “Come
on
,
Becky – jacket!”

Katie tugged Becky out of the sleeve she was struggling with and passed the jacket over. Annabel emerged dustily from the cupboard looking like she'd been on a dangerous mission.

“Right,” she whispered. “Get juice and biscuits and then we're going to our room. I'm going to be sick if I don't tell you this idea soon.”

“Serves you right,” Katie whispered back, grinning. “You shouldn't have been so secretive at lunchtime.” Then she led the way into the kitchen where their mum was working at the big pine table. Mrs Ryan translated books from German or French to English, and the other way round. This meant she could do most of her work at home, which made being a mum easier too.

Mum smiled up at the three of them. “Hello! Did you have a good day? Sorry, I've got to finish this bit off, and then we can do tea. Grab yourselves a snack for the minute.”

The triplets looked around the kitchen. Yes, apart from the table, which had lots of books piled up on it and several abandoned cups of coffee, the kitchen was
looking unusually tidy. Positively shiny, in fact. They sighed. They wouldn't be able to find anything
while Mum had this fit on. At least it wasn't likely to last very long. Annabel looked at her mum, who'd just got up to put the kettle on, while Katie grabbed apple juice, and Becky, still one-armed due to Orlando, rootled for biscuits. Mum looked stressed, Annabel thought. Probably too much tidying – the kitchen was hardly recognizable from this morning, and now she came to think of it, the hall had been scarily neat as well.

“Let's go and get changed. OK, Mum? We'll be down in a bit, to help with tea, all right?” And she exchanged meaningful looks with Katie and Becky.

Mum obviously wanted to get back to work – Annabel could tell from the way she kept casting jittery looks at the table – and she didn't complain. “OK, you three. I should have this done in another half an hour, I think.”

Annabel shooed her sisters upstairs as fast as she could. They paused worriedly at their bedroom door – no, it was OK, Mum's tidiness mission hadn't got this far,
yet
.
Katie gave Becky another conspiratorial look behind Annabel's back, and wandered over to the chair by her bed and started burrowing through the pile of clothes on it.

“What are you doing?”
shrieked Annabel, who was jumping up and down with impatience by now.

“Finding some clothes to change into,” answered Katie, puzzled. “You said—”

“I didn't mean it! Sit down!” gibbered Annabel. “You two are doing this on purpose, aren't you?”

Becky smirked. “Might be. Might not. . . Oh, come on, Bel, you know you can't keep secrets, 'specially not from us. You shouldn't have tried to make us wait for so long. Maybe we don't
want
to know, now. . .” Then she caught the frustrated, hurt look on her sister's face and melted. “Oh Bel, I'm sorry. We do want to know, don't we, Katie? Look, I'll even put Orlando out of the room, so you can see I'm really listening.” She slipped the cat out of the door and closed it before he'd had time to work out what was going on.

Annabel smiled gratefully. “I wasn't trying to make you wait – well, only a little bit. It's a really good idea, honestly.”

Katie and Becky sat down on Katie's bed and gazed up at Annabel, the picture of attention. Annabel took a deep breath, beamed at them and started. “I suddenly thought of it at lunchtime, when those idiots were droning on about Amy's brilliant birthday party. Do you remember what Mum said in July when we were eleven?” (The triplets' birthday was July 4th. American Independence Day – Mrs Ryan always said it had obviously had a real effect on Katie.)

“Oohhh!” breathed Becky and Katie together, starting to realize what Annabel was getting at.

“You see? She said we could have a party if we wanted but then Dad couldn't be there in the summer, except for that one week he was taking us to Wales, so she said why didn't we wait until we'd started at Manor Hill and Dad got some holiday and then we could have Dad at our party and lots of new friends and—”

Her sisters were looking at her goggle-eyed. “Bel, breathe!” snapped Katie. “Honestly, that's the longest sentence I've
ever
heard anybody say in one breath. You're crazy.”

“I can see why though,” nodded Becky. “It's a great idea, Bel. You're so clever!”

Annabel subsided on to the bed next to them, looking oxygen-starved but happy. She raised her eyebrows hopefully at Katie. Being the oldest of the triplets (by two minutes; Becky was the youngest, a full half-an-hour younger than Annabel) she tended to make most of the decisions – until the other two argued her out of them, anyway.

Katie grinned at her sisters. “It's excellent, Bel. Well done for remembering, I'd forgotten about it completely.” She carefully banished the nasty, niggling little voice that was wishing she'd thought of it first, and bounced up from the bed. “Come on! Let's go and tell Mum!”