Fizzypop (12 page)

I put the kettle on and went into the garden with Rags, where we played with his ball for a while until it suddenly occurred to me that the clump of dead sticks he was trampling on might not be dead sticks at all, they might be some sort of plant. In which case, Mum would not be happy.

I decided to go back in and do something noble to make up for it. Just in case. I would clear away Angel's mess and I would lay the table! Nicely, the way Mum likes it. Sometimes, if she's been working late, we just make a little bit of space at one end, with everything all scrunched up. When we do that Mum says things like, “Oh, your nan would despair!” or “Whatever happened to proper family meals?” She would be pleased if she came out to find knives and forks and plates all properly laid out, and I wouldn't feel so guilty about the plant. If it was a plant.

I picked up Angel's bag and started scooping stuff into it. I chucked the tissues into the bin but I left the lump of chewing gum. I wasn't touching
that,
thank you very much. The book was lying open, so I thought maybe she'd been doing her homework, but then I saw that it was called
Fangs of Love
and had a black cover with bright red blood dripping down from the title. Cool! I wondered if she'd let me borrow it when she was done. I like books with black covers, especially if they have blood on them.

I thought I'd better mark the place as she would only get mean if I didn't, so I laid the book, very carefully, face down and still open, on top of the dresser. I didn't even dog-ear the page; I didn't want to give her anything to moan about.

Mum came in just as the kettle was boiling.

“Look!” I said. “I laid the table for you.”

“Lovely,” said Mum. “That makes me very happy.”

“I thought you'd like it,” I said. “Oh, and I wanted to tell you… you know you said about me interfering? With Jem? Looking for her birth mum? Well, she and her mum have made it up. They're friends again. And it's all down to me!”

“Really,” said Mum.

“Yes, cos if I hadn't pushed her – not that I did! I didn't
push.
I just had the idea. And you said I shouldn't have, but if I hadn't she and her mum might still not be talking. And now they are! So it's all worked out. So that's good, isn't it?”

“It is,” said Mum. “I'm glad to hear it. Go and tell your brother and sister that tea's ready.”

That was all she had to say? I'd thought she might at least have apologised, or something. Accusing me of interfering!

Mum said, “Frankie?”

“Yeah, OK.” I went into the hall and yelled, “
AN-GEL! TOM! TEA'S READY!”

“Thank you,” said Mum. “Remind me to put some ear plugs in next time.”

What did she think? I was going to go all the way upstairs?

Tom came into the kitchen just as Dad arrived back from work. Mum said, “There, now, isn't that nice? All of us sitting down together, for once.”

“Except Angel,” I said. “D'you want me to call her again?”

“Yeah, try shouting a bit louder,” said Tom. “Put a bit of effort into it.” He sniggered. “Couldn't hardly hear you before.”

Excuse me? Mr Kaye, who takes us for drama, says I have this really POWERFUL voice. I don't go all high and shrill like Angel; anyone would have to be deaf, not to hear me. But I went back out to the hall and bellowed obediently up the stairs: “ANGEL-MUM-WANTSUS-ALL-TO-SIT-DOWN-TOGETHER!”

Dad had his hands over his ears. “That's grievous bodily harm, that is,” he said.

“Tom said I didn't shout loud enough!”

Tom sniggered again.

“I think you'll find he was being funny,” said Mum. “Still, at least she'll have heard you this time… along with half the neighbourhood.”

Seconds later, Angel's footsteps came clunking down the stairs.

“You didn't have to
shout
,” she said. “I'm not
deaf.
” And then she looked at the table, laid for tea, and shrieked, “
What have you done with my stuff?
”

Dad's hands flew back to his ears. I pointed silently at the dresser.

“What about my book mark? Where's my bookmark?”

“It's all right,” I said. “I've saved your place.”

“BUT WHERE'S THE BOOKMARK?”

Dad groaned.

I said, “There wasn't any bookmark.”

I might as well not have bothered: Angel just went on shrieking.

“Where is it? What have you done with it?” She tipped up her bag, scattered the contents and began madly scrabbling through. “Where has it gone? My autograph from Robbie!”

Dad said, “Who's Robbie, when he's at home?”

“He's this boy at my school,” said Tom. “He's in Year 11 and he's got this band called Death's Head and all the girls go stupid about him.”

“He signed my hankie,” wailed Angel.

“If you mean that bit of old tissue,” I said, “I put it in the bin.”

“
In the bin?
” Angel's voice rose to a bat squeak. Dad winced. “You put Robbie's autograph
in the bin
?”

“I didn't know it was an autograph!” Who goes round collecting autographs on paper hankies? Not to mention using them as bookmarks. “It just looked like a bit of used tissue to me.”

“GOD!” Angel hurled herself at the bin and threw back the lid. “Ugh! Yuck!” She pulled out a sodden tissue. “This was my most treasured possession and you've gone and ruined it!”

“Oh, now, be fair,” said Mum, “she didn't mean to. She was only trying to help! She was laying the table for me.”

“She didn't have to go and throw my autograph in the bin! Why can't she just leave my things alone? I'll never forgive you for this,” panted Angel. “Never, as long as I live! My autograph from Robbie!”

“I'm sure Tom could get you another,” said Mum.

Tom looked startled.

“Or maybe we could dry it out. Let me have it.”

Resentfully, Angel said, “It's got
muck
on it.”

“It's only a bit damp, don't panic. We'll put it on some kitchen roll and it'll dry out just fine.”

“If it's that important,” I said, “you should have got it laminated.”

Angel turned on me, furiously. “You can't laminate a paper tissue!”

“Well, or you could have stuck it in an autograph book, or something. That's what I'd have done.”

“I'm not interested in what you'd have done! You've already
done
it, as far as I'm concerned.”

Mum laughed. “For goodness' sake! Stop being so melodramatic.”

“But it's my autograph from Robbie!”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “
I
didn't know.”

Angel made a sound like, “Humph!”

“Sit down and eat your tea,” said Mum.

“I don't want any tea!” Angel had her mobile out, and was frantically texting again. “I'm going back upstairs!”

The door slammed behind her.

“Well, I never,” said Dad. “Poor old Frankie!” He pulled a sympathetic face. “Can't do anything right, can you?”

Mum put her arm round me. “Don't worry, beanie, it's not the end of the world.”
Beanie.
That was my pet name when I was little. “You know what your sister's like… a bit of a drama queen.”

I was really grateful that for once both Mum and Dad were on my side. Quite an unusual state of affairs! But as Mum had said, I was only trying to help. It's all I ever do; I don't set out on purpose to upset people. Not even Angel. I don't
like
upsetting her.

“She'll get over it,” said Mum.

In the meantime, I reminded myself that it was entirely thanks to me that Jem was happy again. I might have chucked my sister's most treasured possession in the waste bin, but at least I had helped one of my two best friends make it up with her mum. That had to be worth something!

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