Cookie (25 page)

‘Are you wearing perfume?’ I whispered. ‘It’s lovely!’

‘It’s my mum’s Red Roses cologne. She’d kill me if she knew I was wearing it,’ Princess giggled. She sniffed her own wrists appreciatively. ‘Mmm, I don’t half pong!’

‘Is your name
really
Princess?’

‘Yeah. See, it’s on my T-shirt too!’

‘I gave that exact same T-shirt to a friend at my old school!’ I said.

‘So was she called Princess too?’

‘No, no, she was called Rhona.’

‘That’s cool. I like being the
only
Princess. Well, Jordan’s little girl is called Princess too, but I tell everyone she copied me.’ Princess chuckled. ‘And you’re Beauty. That’s an unusual name too. I don’t think I’ve heard of
any
other Beauty so your name’s even more unusual than mine. Hey, maybe we can start an unusual name club, you and me? Would you like that?’

‘Oh yes!’ I said.

We got it all sorted out at lunch time. Princess and I were UNCles – founder members of the Unusual Name Club. We discussed letting other children join too. There was an Anastasia in our class, and also a Britney-Lee but we decided these weren’t quite unusual enough. There was a boy called Ezra which definitely qualified as unusual, but we decided we didn’t really want boys in our club.

I designed a special logo and Princess put it carefully in her folder. She had a special badge-making kit at home and said she’d bring two UNCle badges to school the next day.

Then we shared our packed lunches. Princess had chicken in hers, and a special little pot of rice and peas. I just had cheese sandwiches and an apple – but Mum had made a special batch of cookies on Sunday. She’d found a little rabbit cookie cutter in amongst a whole load of kitchen junk at the Sunday car-boot fair at the Rabbit Cove community centre. She’d made her first bunny batch of cookies last night, and given them white icing fur. I had two in my lunch bag so I gave one to Princess.

‘Oh wow, bunny cookies!’ she said. ‘They are so
cute
! They taste great too. I’m so glad you’re my friend, Beauty.’

‘That sounds too much like those cookies you can buy, Millie’s Cookies. People will think you’re copying. How about Bunny Cookies? Then I can draw little white rabbits scampering round and round at the edges of the sign.’

‘OK, then, Bunny Cookies it is,’ said Mum.

She made cookies all afternoon, all evening and half the night. I made cookies too, mixing and rolling and cutting alongside Mum. Mike helped too, finding endless tins to store them. He came with us on Saturday to help Mum set up the stall.

Princess was helping
her
mum on the tombola stall. Her sisters and brother were there too: Julep, Precious and little baby Marley.

‘We’re going to have to enrol your entire family in our UNCles club,’ I said. ‘What’s your mum called, Princess?’

‘She’s called Petal so she’s in too! What about your mum?’

‘Everyone calls her Dilly. That’s kind of unusual, isn’t it?’

Princess was looking at Mike, who was arranging hundreds of cookies on plates. He absent-mindedly
nibbled
the ears off one of the bunnies and Mum pretended to smack his hand.

‘What about your dad? I thought you said your mum and dad had split up?’ said Princess.

‘He’s not my
dad
,’ I said.

‘Well, I did think he was a bit old,’ said Princess. ‘Is he your grandad?’

‘No, no, he’s just Mike. He’s lovely. We live with him,’ I said.

Princess nodded, eyebrows raised. ‘So he and your mum are, like, a couple?’

‘No!’

Princess stared at Mum and Mike. They were still fooling around, pairing up the rabbits on the plates so that they were giving each other Eskimo kisses.

‘They
look
like a couple,’ she said.

‘Well they’re not,’ I said, but I started to wonder about it.
Dad
had thought Mum had a thing going with Mike – but then Dad was so crazy he thought every other guy in the world was after Mum.

He was still leaving angry messages on her phone, demanding to know what was going on. He kept asking when we were coming back. He actually said it was lonely at home without us, which made Mum cry. But Auntie Avril rang to see how we were getting on and she told us she’d called round at Dad’s and she said he seemed quite chirpy.

‘We had a glass of wine or two and a nice little
chat
. It was almost like old times,’ said Auntie Avril. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Dilly?’

‘I don’t mind a bit, Avril,’ said Mum. ‘Why should I?’

‘Well, dear, he is still your husband.’

‘Yes, but I’m not with him now, am I? You do what you want, Avril. Go for it, girl!’

Maybe Mum and Dad would get a divorce now and then Mum would be free to marry Mike if she wanted.
I
wanted it more than anything. I knew Mike would be the most magical stepdad in the whole world.

Mum’s cookie stall made a positive fortune for the whole school. Mike made his special fish pie for supper and we opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Mum let
me
have half a glass. It was lovely, though the bubbles went right up my nose and tickled. Mum had much more than half a glass and went to bed quite giggly.

‘You are funny when you’re drunk, Mum,’ I said, giving her a hug.

‘I’m
not
drunk! I’ve only had two glasses of champagne, silly,’ said Mum. ‘Well, maybe it was three. Anyway, I’m just
happy
, OK?’

‘Are you
really
happy, Mum?’

‘Yes. Well, sometimes I still wonder if I’m crazy, if we’ve done the right thing. I worry about what’s right for you.’

‘I think we’ve done exactly the right thing.’

‘Well, we’ve certainly been so lucky, coming here, finding Mike—’

‘Yes, Mike. I
do
like Mike, Mum.’

‘Yes, so do I. He’s been so kind, and he’s such fun to be with. And he never ever seems to get cross,’ said Mum.

‘He likes you too, ever so. So what would you do if – if he wanted to – to be your boyfriend?’

‘Goodness! Well, Mike’s lovely, I know, and I’m very fond of him, but …’

‘I know he’s quite old, Mum, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?’

‘No, no. I mean, I fell for your dad, didn’t I?’

‘And Mike isn’t terribly good looking, though I
like
the way he looks.’

‘I like the way he looks too.’

‘So, do you think you’ll get together, Mum?’

‘I don’t think so, Beauty,’ Mum said gently.

‘It’s not because he hasn’t got much money, is it?’ I whispered.

‘Oh, Beauty!’ Mum sounded shocked. ‘As if that matters! I
like
it that Mike isn’t rich and doesn’t give a hoot about money. He’s become a very special friend. If you must know, he did sort of hint that he’d love to be
more
than just good friends, but he was very understanding when I explained why I wanted things to stay just the way they are.’

‘But
why
, Mum?’ I asked, exasperated.

‘Because I want to be on my own for a bit. No man in my life. Independent. I got together with your dad when I was fresh out of school. I’ve never learned how to stand on my own two feet. I want to prove I can cope. It’s still a bit scary but it’s exciting making decisions for myself. I always thought I was absolutely thick but now I seem to be doing OK. Do you understand, darling?’

‘Well. Sort of,’ I said. ‘But I hope you might change your mind later on!’

‘I know one thing,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not
really
on my own. I’ve got you, babes. I couldn’t manage without you. We’re a team, you and me, Beauty.’

Mum and I were a real team when it came to cookie baking. Suddenly our bunny cookies were absolutely in demand. We spent Saturdays and Sundays up to our elbows in cookie dough in an attempt to please all our customers. Mum had been supplying cookies for all the guest houses on Primrose Terrace for weeks, but now the big White Hotel wanted their own batch to offer to guests for afternoon tea, and Peggy’s Parlour wanted a big jar of assorted iced cookies every single day. We’d had enquiries from several Seahaven hotels and teashops – and we were asked to provide a
hundred
bags of bunny cookies for the big Seahaven Carnival in July.

I designed a special bunny label to stick on each bag: a white rabbit on a bright green background. Mum and I set up a big cookie stall at the carnival, and dressed up in our white lacy aprons. The local television news came and filmed us. I didn’t even know they were doing it. I was just busy selling cookies and then this guy jumped in front of me and told me to eat a bunny cookie and go ‘yum yum’ so I did – and then I saw the camera pointing in my direction! I just about died – but it was all over before I could object. My heart started thudding like crazy in case I looked stupid when Mum and Mike and I switched on the local news that evening, but to my great relief I was only on for two seconds! They said I made the cookies all by myself, which made me fuss, but Mum just laughed.

The next morning Mike came charging into the kitchen, eyes popping.

‘There’s a phone call for our little television star. It’s
Watchbox
, that kids’ programme on Saturday mornings. They want to have you on their show,’ he said.

‘What? Oh, Mike, you are a tease,’ I said, shaking my head at him.

‘Stop kidding, Mike, you’re very bad,’ said Mum.

‘I-am-NOT-kidding! Come to the phone, Beauty.
Dilly
, they need to talk to you too. I
promise
I’m not joking.’

I went to the phone, Mum following me.

‘Hello? It’s Beauty speaking,’ I said uncertainly, still not quite believing Mike.

‘Hello, Beauty. My name’s Jules Latimer. I’m a researcher on
Watchbox
. Do you know our show? I’ve been watching various news items and I saw your little spot on the piece about the Seahaven Carnival. So you make all these wonderful cookies?’

‘Well, my mum makes most of them. I just help out when we’re really busy,’ I said.

‘And did you design the bunny logo?’

‘The logo? Oh, the picture on the bags. Yes, I did that.’

‘Well, we’d love to have you on our programme. You could maybe show our presenters Simon and Miranda how you make the cookies? Would you like to do that?’

Would I like to go on
television
? Oh goodness, it might be so scary. I’d have thousands and thousands of children watching me, Ugly Beauty. They’d all laugh and snigger at their television sets, saying horrible things about me …

‘No thank you very much,’ I said.

‘What?’ said Mum beside me. ‘Don’t be daft, Beauty! Of
course
you want to go on
Watchbox
!’
She
snatched the phone away from me. ‘Hello, I’m Dilys Cookson, Beauty’s mum. I think she’s a little bit overwhelmed. I’m sure she’d
love
to go on
Watchbox
– it’s her second favourite television show.’

I heard the researcher laughing and asking something.

‘Oh, her
favourite
has to be
Rabbit Hutch
. She’s absolutely nuts on Sam and Lily,’ said Mum.

‘Shut
up
, Mum! They’ll think I’m a terrible baby!’ I hissed.

Mum wouldn’t shut up.

‘That’s why she painted that lovely white rabbit for our bunny cookies. It’s because she loves Lily,’ she said.

She listened to the researcher for a while and then laughed. ‘Yes, yes! OK, what day do you record the programme? Tomorrow!’

‘
No
, Mum, I’m not going to,’ I said, struggling to get the phone off her – but she held it out of my reach.

‘Can you give me the full address? That’s London, right? I’m afraid I don’t know London very well. Will I be able to park at the studio or should we get the train? You’ll send a special
car
for us? What, all the way to Rabbit Cove? Oh wonderful. It’s Lily Cottage, nineteen Primrose Terrace. At nine o’clock? We’ll be ready and waiting.’