How to Survive Summer Camp (2 page)

‘They could always make me swim in my knickers,’ I mumbled tearfully.

I thought about the swimming pool at this summer camp. I imagined it very large, very blue, very cold. Then I imagined some sinister soldier man grabbing me and throwing me into the water.

‘
Please
don’t make me go.’

‘Don’t be so difficult, darling. You’ve got to go and that’s that,’ said Mum.

I didn’t see why. I didn’t see why I couldn’t go to Europe with them. Mum kept saying I’d find it boring because they were just staying in cities and looking at lots of churches and galleries and museums, and anyway, it was their honeymoon. I thought they were much too old to have a honeymoon.

‘Stop crying now, Stella. You don’t want all the other children seeing you with red eyes, do you?’ said Mum.

I used up three paper hankies blowing and mopping.

‘Does it look as if I’ve been crying?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Not at all,’ Mum lied. ‘Hey, Bill—see those big gates on the right? I think we’re there.’

I slunk down in the back of the car as Uncle Bill turned through the big gates and drove up the long gravel drive bordered by thick fir trees.

‘It all looks very grand, doesn’t it?’ he said brightly. ‘Look at all the Christmas trees, Stella. Why don’t you sit up properly and see if you can see the house?’

I wriggled down further until my jeans nearly came up to my chin.

We turned a corner, the fir trees petered out, and here we were, at Evergreen. We stared at it in silence. It was great grey gloomy house with a tall tower at one end.

‘It … it looks a little like a castle in a fairy tale,’ said Mum desperately.

‘No it doesn’t,’ I said. ‘It looks like a prison. And I don’t like that tower. I bet that’s where they lock up all the naughty ones. Mum,
please
. Don’t let them lock me up in this awful place.’

‘Don’t be silly, Stella,’ said Mum, but she looked at Uncle Bill worriedly.

A big man came jogging round the corner of the house, a whistle bouncing up and down on his barrel chest.

‘He’ll tell us where to go,’ said Uncle Bill, and he got out of the car quickly and called to him. The big man bounded across the drive towards us.

‘Hello there. Welcome to Evergreen,’ he panted. Little hisses steamed from his crimson nostrils.

‘How do you do?’ said Uncle Bill. ‘Are you the Brigadier, by any chance?’

The big man shook his head, smiling.

‘I’m the activities organizer,’ he said. He spotted me cowering in the back of the car. ‘You can call me Uncle Ron.’

I was sick of all these uncles. Uncle Bill forced me out of the car to say hello. Uncle Ron patted me on my horribly cropped head.

‘Welcome to Evergreen, sonny,’ he said.

Sonny! I nearly died on the spot. He thought I was a boy.

‘I’m a
girl
,’ I said furiously.

Uncle Ron looked at me properly and then roared with laughter. His pale grey tracksuit was dark grey under his arms and he smelt.

‘Sorry, Your Highness,’ said Uncle Ron. ‘What’s your name then?’

‘Stella Stebbings.’

‘Ah yes. Stella. Jolly dee. Well, do you want to come through the woods with me to meet the other children? They’re having a picnic by the poolside.’

‘No thank you,’ I said, backing away.

‘We’d like to see the Brigadier first,’ said Mum, getting out of the car and blowing her nose vigorously.

‘I expect he’ll be a bit tied up at the moment,’ said Uncle Ron. ‘But you can see his daughter, Miss Hamer-Cotton.’

There was a faraway sound of children shouting.

‘Duty calls,’ said Uncle Ron, and he jogged away.

Uncle Bill got my suitcase out of the car boot. Mum went up the steps to the front door and rapped the lion’s head knocker. She beckoned to me but I stayed down on the gravel path. I turned my back and wrote in the gravel with my toe. I HATE EVERGREE … The door opened when I was halfway through the N. I quickly scrubbed it out before anyone could see. I now had one brilliant white trainer and one very grey and scuffed.

‘Hello. Another new arrival at this time!’ said an old lady in an orange overall. She shook her head at me. ‘You’re all behind like the donkey’s tail. You’ve missed your picnic.’

‘Can we have a quick word with the Brigadier, please?’ said Mum.

‘It’ll be Miss Hamer-Cotton, dear. She takes care of all the new arrivals. This way, please.’

She led the way down the polished parquet corridor. My trainers squeaked and I left a little trail of dusty footprints. Orange Overall looked round and tutted, but she didn’t say anything because I had Mum with me. I decided I didn’t like her.

I didn’t think much of Miss Hamer-Cotton either. She had very neat curled hair like rows of knitting and a powder blue tracksuit. It was meant to be baggy but her bottom filled it right up at the back. A little Siamese cat crouched on her shoulder and looked at me suspiciously. I held out a hand to stroke him but he bared sharp little teeth. I changed my mind about wanting to make friends. Miss Hamer-Cotton had sharp little teeth too. They showed a lot when she smiled.

‘Welcome to Evergreen,’ she said, shaking hands with Mum and Uncle Bill. She just waggled her fingers at me, and then plucked at her tracksuit apologetically. ‘Excuse my sports gear. I’ve been organizing a few team races. We always like to have lots of games the first afternoon and then a great big picnic tea.’

I was glad I’d missed this famous picnic. I wasn’t a bit hungry anyway because of what I’d eaten in the Wine Bar after the wedding. Mum said I could have absolutely anything I wanted so I did. I had cherry cheesecake, Black Forest gateau, sherry trifle, chocolate mousse, and lemon meringue pie. I’d never eaten five huge puddings in one go before. By the time I
got to the chocolate mousse I felt a little odd and I could only toy with the lemon meringue pie, leaving all the pastry, but I still reckon it was a considerable achievement.

Mum asked to see the Brigadier and Miss Hamer-Cotton explained he was hopelessly tied up right now and did we have any little problems we wanted to discuss? So Mum got started on Stella’s Swimming Phobia and I blushed and fidgeted and felt foolish. Orange Overall brought in a big tray of tea and biscuits. The tea was almost as orange as her overall. The milk had separated into little white lumps floating on the bright surface. I only risked one sip.

The Siamese cat had his own special little saucer of milk.

‘So he doesn’t feel left out,’ said Miss Hamer-Cotton. ‘He’s my special little boy, aren’t you, Tinkypoo?’

I spluttered and Mum glared at me. She asked if she could meet the rest of the camp staff but they were all down in the woods with the children having their picnic. They sounded a bit like those teddy bears.

‘Can we have a little look round the house then?’ Mum asked.

So we went to see the Television Room. It contained a television. The Games Room wasn’t very inspiring either. Two lots of table tennis took up most of the room. There were some school chairs and a little table covered with tattered comics that looked years out of date and a pile of board games and some lumps of very old grey plasticine that made the whole room reek.

‘Of course the children only use the Games Room in very bad weather,’ said Miss Hamer-Cotton. ‘We keep them outdoors as much as possible. You wait till you see Stella when you come to collect her. I can guarantee she’ll be as brown as a berry.’

‘I don’t go brown, I go red and burn,’ I said.

‘Can we see Stella’s bedroom?’ Mum said quickly.

‘We put all the children in cosy little dormitories,’ said Miss Hamer-Cotton. ‘It’s much more fun. We’ve put you in the Emerald dormi, Stella.’

The Emerald dormitory wasn’t my idea of cosy. It had six little iron bedsteads straight out of a Victorian orphanage story, six little chests, and one green mat on the vinyl floor.

‘We like to keep things simple,’ said Miss Hamer-Cotton ‘Well, if you say goodbye to Stella now she can get unpacked before the other children come back from their picnic.’

Uncle Bill bent forward. I was scared he was going to kiss me so I edged away. He ended up kissing the air next to my cheek.

‘Have a lovely time, Stella. Don’t worry. You’ll soon settle down. I’ll look after Mummy for you and we’ll send you lots of postcards.’

Mum didn’t say anything at all. She hugged me very hard, gave me one big kiss, and then rushed out of the room. Uncle Bill went after her. Miss Hamer-Cotton said, ‘This is your bed and chest, Stella. All right? See you later on, dear.’ Then she went out too.

I was left all alone, abandoned at Evergreen.

I
 sat on the end of my bed and stared round the ugly little room. I wondered what the other girls would be like. They’d all have made friends by now. My tummy went tight as I wondered what on earth I was going to say to them. My new jeans dug in so I undid the button. I hoped Mum had packed all my old comfy jeans too. I unsnapped my suitcase and stirred my clothes around a bit. I looked suspiciously for a swimming costume but there really wasn’t one there. I found my old jeans and my shorts and my T-shirts and my rainbow jumper and one pretty summer dress in case we had to dress up for anything. Only I was going to look really silly in it now, like a boy in drag. Sonny!

I tipped my things out crossly, scattering them over the hard little bed. I dealt my clothes into the two top drawers of the chest and then squatted down to sort out my treasures. My new jeans still bit into my tummy even with the button undone. Perhaps I’d eaten one pudding too many. I wondered about changing into an old pair of jeans but I was scared these strange children might come bursting in and catch me in my underwear.

It was a relief spotting a doll sitting up on someone’s pillow. I’d been worrying about Squeakycheese. He was a toy mouse that I’d had ever since I was a baby. He was a bit battered-looking now—blind and bald and he’d lost an ear and three of his paws—but I didn’t care, I still loved him enormously. I’d hidden him inside one of my socks in case the other children laughed at him but I rescued him now and let him scamper on his one paw across my pillow.

Squeakycheese was my favourite toy. I’d taken my favourite book with me too, although Mum said it was much too precious. It was over a hundred years old and it cost ever such a lot of money. It was called
Fifty Favourite Fairy Tales
and the title was spelt out in very grand gold lettering on the blue leather cover. It was even more beautiful inside, with hundreds of pictures, lots of them in colour. There were flimsy tissue paper pages protecting all the colour plates, the sort that tear easily, but I’d not torn any of them even though I’d been looking at them ever since I was little, before I could read properly. I’d read all fifty of the stories now, some of them two or three times.

I found another book down at the bottom of the suitcase. It wasn’t a reading book, it was a notebook with a red cover and gilt edges, the sort I’d been wanting for ages. There were more surprise presents tucked inside my nightie: a box of fruit gums, a big half pound bar of Cadbury’s chocolate, and a new tin of felt tip pens.

I cheered up quite a lot. I undid the zip of my jeans,

squashed up on my bed beside Squeakycheese, crammed a
fruit gum of every flavour in my mouth, selected a felt pen,
and started to write in my new red notebook.