Cookie (12 page)

‘You are just the best mum ever,’ I said.

I helped her get the kitchen spick and span. We threw away all the experimental cookies, but kept the plate of perfect ones.

Dad got home from work early. He started up his Happy Homes routine the moment he got in the front door:

‘Happy
Homes
, Happy
Homes

Where everybody smiles

And nobody moans
.

There’s a mummy
—’

He burst into the kitchen and pointed at Mum. Then he got distracted. He sniffed.

‘What’s that
smell
?’ he said.

‘I’ve just been doing a little baking,’ said Mum.

‘A little
burning
, more like,’ said Dad, laughing at her.

‘I’ve made cookies,’ said Mum.

‘You’re the cookie one, you daft little Dilly, you know you’re hopeless in the kitchen,’ said Dad.

‘Mum’s made lovely cookies, Dad. Try one,’ I said, offering him a plate.

‘I don’t really like home-madey stuff,’ said Dad,
wrinkling
his nose. ‘What sort of cookies are these anyway? I can’t see any chocolate chips or sultanas.’

‘They’re plain,’ said Mum.

‘Plain but perfect,’ I said. ‘Do eat one, Dad, they’re utterly delicious.’

He picked one off the plate, mimed taking a bite, smacking his lips together, the way you pretend to a baby.

‘Yum yum yum,’ he said, and he put the biscuit back.

‘Oh well, Mum, all the more for us,’ I mumbled.

‘What’s that?’ said Dad. ‘Are you being cheeky, Beauty?’

‘Oh, Gerry, she’s just being sweet, that’s all,’ said Mum. ‘How are things at work? What’s happening with the Water Meadows situation?’

Dad’s face cheered.

‘Well, we seem to be making progress at
last
. One of the chaps at the council, one of my golfing mates, got back in touch and I feel we
might
be able to get planning permission after all. I just need to put a few things in place and we’re
there
. Gerry the Fixer, eh?’ He looked at me. ‘So, little Beauty, what did your little pals say about your birthday celebration? I bet they’re thrilled, eh?’

‘Yes, they are. Ever so,’ I said.

‘And how about my birthday girl? You’re thrilled too, aren’t you?’

Mum looked at me.

‘Yes, Dad. Ever so, ever so, ever so,’ I said. I whirled round and jumped up and down in a little pantomime of excitement.

‘That’s my girl,’ said Dad. ‘I spoil you rotten, don’t I? I’ve got a little idea up my sleeve for your birthday present too. You’re going to be
so
surprised, totally bowled over.’

My tummy churned, wondering what Dad had in store for me.

‘What’s Dad giving me?’ I asked Mum later, when she was kissing me goodnight.

‘I don’t know. I’ve asked and asked, but he just taps the side of his nose and won’t tell. I’ve suggested we get you a new outfit for your birthday. I know just how much you hate that pink dress.’

‘Oh, Mum, he won’t choose it for me again, will he?’

‘I said he’d maybe get the size wrong and I’d need to supervise as dresses are girly things – but he didn’t seem to take any notice,’ said Mum, sighing.

I curled up with PJ, hugging her tight. It took me a long time to get to sleep.

Skye wasn’t at school the next morning. Rhona said she had a dental appointment and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. Rhona played with
me
at lunch time. She gave me half her crisps from her packed lunch and I gave her half my chocolate
from
mine. I gave her half my tangerine too and she shared her apple. We took careful alternate bites until we got down to the core.

Then we went and sat on the wall together. Rhona found a piece of string and showed me how to play cat’s cradle. It was so special. I hoped Skye would stay at the dentist getting every single tooth filled and filled for ever.

‘I don’t know what to get you for your birthday present, Beauty,’ Rhona said. ‘You gave me lovely presents. I especially like my T-shirt. And I wear my bangles all the time. I love the way they
clink clink clink
.’

‘Have you started
A Little Princess
yet?’

‘Well, I’m not really a great reader, not like you. I looked at the first chapter but it seems a bit … old-fashioned.’

‘It’s a truly lovely story when you get into it,’ I said earnestly. ‘Maybe I could read you a bit?’

‘Maybe,’ said Rhona. ‘
Anyway
, what can I get
you
? Do you want some books? You’ll have to tell me the titles because I don’t know all these weird old classics. I know what I
really
wanted to get you – another little teddy like Reginald Redted and poor Nicholas Navybear. I told Mum and she went looking for one yesterday, but the shop hasn’t got any more.’

‘It was ever so nice of you to think of it though,’ I
said
, giving her arm a little squeeze. She squeezed me back and we smiled at each other.

‘Isn’t there anything else you really really want for your birthday?’ said Rhona. ‘I know you like books but they are a bit boring.’

‘No they’re not!’

‘Is that what your mum and dad are getting you too?’

‘I don’t know what I’m getting,’ I said gloomily. I felt so close to Rhona I wondered if I dared confide in her. ‘My dad’s a bit … funny.’

‘So’s mine,’ said Rhona, not understanding. ‘I was so embarrassed when he told all those silly jokes at my party.’

‘No, I mean my dad likes to be the boss. He likes to decide stuff, like what he’s giving me for my birthday present. He went bananas when I asked him for a rabbit.’

‘A
rabbit
?’ said Rhona. ‘I used to have a rabbit. A little grey one with blue eyes. He was so sweet.’

‘A
real
rabbit? Oh, you lucky thing. What did you call him?’

‘Bunny.’

‘Oh, Rhona, didn’t he have a proper name?’

‘He
liked
being called Bunny. Mum let me have him in the house sometimes, though I had to promise to clear up after him if he did a poo. You’re supposed to be able to house-train rabbits
but
Bunny did
heaps
of poos.’

‘So what happened to him?’

‘Oh, he died last winter. It was so sad. Mum and Dad said I could have another rabbit but I didn’t want a new one, I just wanted Bunny back. I cried and cried whenever I saw a picture of a rabbit. I even cried when I watched some goofy baby programme on television about a rabbit.’

‘
Rabbit Hutch
?’ I said casually, though my heart was beating fast.

‘That’s the one. There’s this big white rabbit with funny droopy ears.’

‘That’s Lily.’

Rhona grinned. ‘Yeah! And then there’s this smiley man—’

‘Sam.’

‘Do
you
watch
Rabbit Hutch
?’ asked Rhona.

‘Occasionally,’ I said.

Rhona giggled. ‘We’re a pair of babies, aren’t we?’

‘Rhona! Rhona!’

It was Skye, running up the playground towards us.

‘Don’t tell Skye,’ I said quickly.

‘As if!’ said Rhona.

Then she jumped down off the wall and left me.

When I got home after school I switched on the television straight away.

‘Who do we want to see?’ said the voice.

‘Sam and Lily in the Rabbit Hutch!’

‘Hey there!’ said Sam, and Lily twitched her nose to say hello too.

‘Lily’s got a little friend who’s come to tea,’ said Sam. He squatted down and pointed to a little fat furry black-and-tan creature.

‘It’s Oliver the guinea pig. Hello, Oliver, how lovely to see you. Say hello to Oliver, Lily!’

Sam tried to put Lily down on the ground beside Oliver but she scrabbled her paws, trying to cling on. Sam smiled and stroked her. ‘Lily’s a bit shy,’ he whispered to me.

‘I know what she feels like. I feel ever so shy sometimes,’ I whispered back.

‘There now, Lily,’ said Sam, easing her gently until she was nose to nose with Oliver. ‘It’s dear old Oliver, Lily – you like him. He’s your special friend. That’s right, twitch your noses at each other. Shall we twitch noses too?’

Sam twitched his nose, looking wonderfully silly. I twitched mine back, giggling.

‘Do
you
have a special friend?’ Sam asked.

This was my opportunity.

‘Yes I do! It’s Rhona! You might know her, she watches
Rabbit Hutch
too.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Sam, nodding.

‘She’s
my
special friend but I’m not sure she’d
say
I was
her
special friend. Her absolute best friend is this girl called Skye. She is a truly
revolting
person. Why on earth Rhona stays friends with her I simply can’t understand. But I think Rhona might like me second best. She sat with me at lunch time and it was
so
lovely and we chatted about all sorts of stuff and that’s when she said she sometimes watches you too.’

I burbled on to Sam while he nodded and played with Lily and Oliver. He had to interrupt every now and then to talk to all the other children but I didn’t mind. I knew he was still listening to every word I was saying. I wasn’t through when he said goodbye. I went to talk to Mum instead.

There was a wonderful warm baking smell in the kitchen. Mum smiled at me, flour sprinkled down her front like fairy dust.

‘More cookies?’ I said.

‘I’m having another go. I’m making oatmeal-and-raisin cookies this time. I already made two batches this morning but they didn’t come out quite right. The first lot looked weird, though they didn’t taste too bad. The second lot looked fine but they weren’t quite
munchy
enough.’ Mum patted her tiny waist ruefully. ‘I’m going to put on pounds and pounds doing all this baking lark. I went to the gym at lunch time but if I keep on stuffing cookies I’ll need to go to the gym twice
a
day. And I
hate
that blooming gym, it’s so boring.’

‘Maybe you could have your own personal trainer, Mum? That might make it more fun.’

‘I’ll say,’ said Mum. ‘A young hunky guy putting me through my paces, eh? I wonder what your dad would have to say about that! You know what he’s like.’

I knew all too well. ‘Doesn’t he trust you, Mum?’

Mum shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He just doesn’t want me getting close to anyone else but him. He’d go bananas if I got matey with any man even if it was entirely innocent. He doesn’t really like me having women friends either.’

‘Did you have lots of friends when you were at school, Mum?’

‘Not really.’

‘Did you have a best friend?’

Mum nibbled her lip. ‘No, they didn’t really like me much, the girls in my class.’

‘But you must have been the prettiest one!’

Mum shrugged. ‘They all teased me because I was a bit slow and dreamy. I was hopeless, I just let them walk all over me. I’ve never been able to stand up for myself.’

She opened the oven door and had a peep at the cookies.

‘Hey, I think they’re done. They look pretty good, don’t they?’

She took the baking tray out of the oven and showed me twenty-four raisin-and-oatmeal cookies, pale gold and perfect.

I reached out eagerly.

‘Hey hey, let them cool down a bit, you’ll burn your mouth.’

‘OK, but they smell so delicious! I can’t wait!’

‘We’ll give all your friends cookies on your birthday and that’ll be your new nickname, little Cookie Cookson.’

Mum picked up an oatmeal-and-raisin cookie and popped it into my mouth. I chewed appreciatively. They were softer than the plain cookies, much chewier, with a spicy, nutty tang.

‘Well done, Mum!’ I said through my mouthful. ‘They’re really really gorgeous. How did you do it?’

‘Just call me the Cookie Fairy,’ said Mum. ‘I wave my magic wand’ – she mimed it – ‘and hey presto, cookie heaven. No, actually it’s this recipe book. It told me to use cinnamon and cloves and chopped nuts as well as the oatmeal and the raisins, and then there’s eggs and brown sugar and all sorts. You sift and sprinkle and stir like crazy. I think I’m getting the knack of it, Beauty!’

‘You are, you are.’

‘Funny if I turn out to be a good cook after all these years of being such rubbish at it,’ Mum said, nibbling one of her own cookies appreciatively.

‘Maybe Dad doesn’t need these fancy buffet people. Maybe you could do it all, Mum?’

‘Maybe
not
,’ said Mum, laughing. ‘I think I’d better stick to cookies.’