“It was my birthday surprise for all of you!” Betsey grinned.
“I’m only sorry I forgot my camera at home!” laughed May’s mum.
“Thank goodness you did forget it,” sniffed Gran’ma Liz. “Otherwise we’d never have lived it down!”
But only Betsey heard that bit!
Betsey Moves House
“Betsey, go and tidy your bedroom,” Gran’ma Liz commanded.
“It’s Sherena’s turn,” said Betsey.
“No, it isn’t. I did it yesterday. It’s your turn today,” Sherena argued.
“But I wanted to play with May. We were going to play Robin Hood with my new bow and arrows,” Betsey said. “Sherena, couldn’t you do it for me . . .?”
“Betsey . . .” Gran’ma Liz’s voice held a warning.
“Oh, all right,” said Betsey reluctantly. And off she went to tidy her room.
Ages later, when Betsey had finished, Gran’ma Liz said, “Betsey, it’s your turn to help me tidy up the kitchen.”
“It’s Desmond’s turn,” Betsey protested.
“Oh no, it isn’t. It’s my turn tomorrow. It’s your turn today,” Desmond said.
“Oh, but . . .” Betsey began.
“Betsey!” There it was again – that warning note in Gran’ma’s voice.
“It’s not fair. It’s just not fair,” Betsey muttered under her breath. “If I had my own house, I could do what I liked when I liked and no one could boss my head.”
“Did you say something, child?” asked Gran’ma Liz.
“No, Gran’ma,” Betsey answered at once. And she followed Gran’ma into the kitchen to help with the tidying up.
When Betsey had finished, May came round. But by then Betsey was in a bad, bad mood.
“What’s the matter with you?” May asked.
“I’m fed up! That’s what’s the matter,” Betsey said. “I wish I had my own house and no one to tell me what to do!”
And that’s when Betsey had her extra brilliant idea. It was such an exciting idea that Betsey couldn’t help hopping up and down. Betsey took May by the hand and pulled her into the kitchen where Gran’ma Liz was reading her newspaper.
“Gran’ma Liz,” Betsey began, “can I make a house in the back yard?”
“Pardon?!” Gran’ma Liz stared at Betsey.
“Can I make myself a house – a very small house – in the back yard?” Betsey repeated. “May will help me, won’t you?”
“Sure! But how do we do it?” May asked.
Gran’ma Liz sat back in her chair. “I’d like to hear that too,” she said.
“I’ll make it with branches and leaves,” Betsey announced. “I saw how it was done on the telly last week. I’ll make myself a hut and then I can live there and have my own room and Sherena will have to tidy up our bedroom all by herself. Can I, Gran’ma? Please! Please!’
“Go on then.” Gran’ma Liz smiled. “Just don’t make a mess in this house.”
Betsey skipped out to the back yard, followed by May. She was going to do it. She was going to make her very own house!
“Betsey, we can’t make a hut. It’ll be too difficult,” said May.
“Not if we get some help!” Betsey smiled, and she pointed to her brother who was at the far end of the back yard with a drawing pad and a pencil in his hands. Betsey and May ran over to him.
“What’re you doing?” asked Betsey.
“Drawing some chickens for a school project!” said Desmond. “I just wish they’d keep still.”
“Desmond, I want to make a hut – right here in the middle of the back yard!” Betsey beamed. “Will you help me?”
“Why d’you want to do that?” Desmond asked. “And why should I help you?”
“Because I’ll live in the hut instead of the house and then none of you can tell me what to do,” said Betsey.
“Well, if it’ll get you out of the house, then I’ll definitely help you,” Desmond said at once. “We’ll need long branches and banana leaves and palm fronds and loads of string.”
“I’ll get the leaves,” said May.
“I’ll get the string,” said Betsey and she dashed into the house.
Ten minutes later, they all gathered in the back yard again. Desmond showed them how to set up the branches to make the frame of the hut and how to cover the branches with the leaves and fronds to make the walls. Then they each took long lengths of string and tied the leaves and fronds on to the branches.
It was very hard, hot work but at last it was all finished. They all stepped back to admire the hut.
“It looks wonderful,” breathed Betsey. “Just like a real house.”
“It’s not bad at all,” Desmond admitted.
“Desmond, you can’t come in,” said Betsey. “Not unless I say so, because it’s my house.”
“Thanks a lot!” sniffed Desmond. “Anyway, I’ve got homework to do, so you keep your house.” And with that, off Desmond marched.
“That was a bit mean, Betsey,” said May.
“Never mind him. Let’s get some things to make my house more homely,” said Betsey.
So off they went. Betsey gathered up her dolls, her bow and arrows and some of her books. Then she took the sheet and the pillow off her bed and into the back yard. In the meantime, May made some ham and tomato sandwiches.
“It’s a bit cramped,” said May, once everything was placed in the hut.
“That doesn’t matter.” Betsey smiled. “It’s lovely and it’s mine!”
They sat down to eat their sandwiches but the hut was so small they were squashed up against each other and their feet stuck out of the entrance.
“Shall we play a game?” May suggested after they’d finished eating.
“No, it’ll make my new house untidy.” Betsey shook her head.
“Your house is too small to get untidy,” said May.
“You’re the only one making my house untidy. And if you don’t like my house you can always leave,” said Betsey, crossly.
“I don’t mind if I do.” May crawled out of the hut and stood up. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
Betsey folded her arms as she sat in her house, getting crosser than cross. This was her house and she wasn’t going to let May or Desmond in it, or anyone else for that matter. She was going to keep it all for herself. And that way it would stay clean and tidy and be all hers. Betsey looked around her house. It was small but perfect. She couldn’t believe she had her very own home. The only trouble was . . . it was a bit lonely. There was no one to play with and no one to talk to.
“That doesn’t matter,” Betsey told herself.
But as she sat in her home, all alone, she began to feel that it did. What was the point of having her very own house if she didn’t have anyone to share it with? The back yard was so quiet. She could hear the bamboo plants at the side of the yard, creaking as the wind blew through them, but that was all. She missed Gran’ma’s laugh and Mum’s voice. She missed Sherena’s moaning and complaining. She missed May’s company. She even missed Desmond teasing her. Betsey stuck her head out of the entrance to her hut. Grey clouds were scudding across the sky. Betsey crawled out of the hut and stood up in the back yard. She smiled up at the sky, then went into the main house. The whole family as well as May were sitting in the living room, watching telly.
“What are you doing here?” asked Desmond.
“I thought you had your own home now,” said Gran’ma Liz.
“I do, but it’s going to rain and my house isn’t waterproof,” said Betsey.
And sure enough, the moment she’d said that there came a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. Giant raindrops hammered on the roof and the windows.
“See!” said Betsey, happily. “I told you it was going to rain.”
“Quick, Betsey. Your house is going to be washed away,” said Desmond, jumping up. “Come on. If we act now we can save it.”
Betsey shook her head. “No, it’s OK, Desmond. That was
n’t my real home. My real home is where my family and friends are.”
“Betsey, that’s a lovely thing to say.” Gran’ma Liz smiled.
“And May, I’m sorry I was so mean about my house,” said Betsey. “The next time I have a house, you can come in any time you want to.”
“Are you going to make another one?” asked May.
“I might do,” said Betsey. “But next time, I’ll make it big enough for everyone!”
And just to show she meant it, Betsey gave everyone a hug – even Prince!
Betsey on the Telly
Betsey moved closer to the telly.
“Betsey child, you’ll ruin your eyes if you sit that close to the TV screen,” said Gran’ma Liz.
Betsey got up and stood in front of everyone.
“Betsey, move! I can’t see,” Sherena complained.
“I’ve decided I want to be on the telly,” Betsey announced.
“Oh dear . . .”
“Another one of Betsey’s ideas!”
Groans and sighs and shakes of the head filled the living room!
“I’m serious. I want to be on there.” Betsey pointed to the TV screen. “Gran’ma Liz, how do I get on the telly?”
“The only way you’ll ever be on the telly is if you sit on it!” Desmond said before Gran’ma could reply.
“Desmond, behave!” said Gran’ma Liz, laughing.
“I mean it,” said Betsey, crossly. “I want to be on the TV. Dad’s coming home soon and it would be such a wonderful surprise for him.”
“Your dad will be happy to see you in the flesh,” said Gran’ma Liz. “He doesn’t have to see you on the telly. Now come and sit next to me so we can all see the screen.”
“But Gran’ma . . .”
“Betsey, I have no idea how you’d go about getting on the TV. You’ll have to become an actress or go into politics or read the news or something like that,” said Gran’ma Liz.
“Hhmm!” Betsey sat down next to Gran’ma but she wasn’t watching the evening film any more. She was thinking hard. Betsey didn’t know how yet but she was going to do it. One way or another she was going to be on the telly.
The next day was market day. But for once, Betsey wasn’t even that excited about it. All the way there, Betsey was far too busy trying to work out how to get on the TV. At last they arrived at the market. It was full of hustle and bustle but Betsey hardly noticed any of it.
“Betsey, are you all right? You’re very quiet,” said Desmond
“Too quiet,” Sherena agreed.
“I’m fine,” Betsey said, still deep in thought.
Gran’ma Liz looked at Betsey very carefully but she didn’t say a word. Instead she led the way to the fish stall first. Usually Betsey loved the smell of fish – salt fish, flying fish, crab, snapper . . . But not today. Betsey was still too busy trying to work out her problem.
And then she saw the answer! Over by the bread and cake stall was a thin man with a camcorder. The man moved his camcorder this way and that, filming the whole market. Betsey’s eyes opened wider than wide. That man was filming! Maybe his film would be on the telly . . .
Betsey raced over to him and started jumping up and down in front of him.
“Betsey, what on earth are you doing? And don’t run off like that,” panted Gran’ma when she reached Betsey.
“I’m going to be on the TV,” Betsey said proudly. And she carried on jumping up and down.
The thin man lowered his camcorder. “Er . . . I’m sorry, dear, but I’m just making a holiday video. I’m going to show all my friends back in England how wonderful this market is.”
Betsey stopped jumping. “You’re not making a programme for the telly?” she said, disappointed.
“I’m afraid not.” The thin man shook his head. “Sorry!”
Gran’ma Liz led the way back to the others, warning Betsey not to run off again in case she got lost. As Betsey’s family carried on walking through the market, Betsey felt a bit down.
“No!” Betsey muttered firmly. “I’m not going to give up. Not yet, at any rate.”
And then she saw what she was looking for! A tall woman was holding a big microphone in her hand and talking to a stall holder in the market. Betsey grabbed hold of Gran’ma Liz’s hand and rushed over to the tall woman.
“Hello! My name is Betsey Biggalow. Are you making a TV programme?” asked Betsey, hopefully.
The tall woman frowned down at Betsey. “No, I’m making a programme for the radio.”
Betsey sighed. That wasn’t the same thing at all!
“Betsey, come away. We’ve got shopping to buy,” said Gran’ma Liz. “And please don’t drag me all over the market.”
The rest of the morning was spent buying groceries. Betsey looked up and down and back and forth, but no one looked like they were making a TV programme, so that when at last it was time to go home, Betsey wanted to cry. She was going to get on the telly or burst.
As they all walked up the road from the bus stop, Betsey lagged behind, trying and trying to think of a way of getting on the telly.
“Look! Dad’s home already!” Desmond shouted.
With those words, Betsey forgot everything else and charged up the road. There was Dad, standing on the steps outside the front door. And he was holding something strange . . . Only when Betsey reached him did she realize what it was. Dad was holding a tablet device. Betsey was so surprised, her mouth fell open and she stared at Dad.
“Come on, Betsey. I’m filming you so do something!” Dad laughed.
“Where did you get that tablet from?” asked Desmond.
“I bought it,” explained Dad. “And now I’m going to record the whole family. That way I’ll have a video of all of you when I have to go away again. I can watch it every day to see all of you and hear your voices.”
Betsey hopped up and down with joy. It wasn’t going to happen exactly as she’d planned, she wasn’t going to be on TV, but she was going to be filmed!
Dad filmed the whole family as they entered the house, all bubbling with laughter and chatting.
“Act normally!” said Dad.
And everyone did – except Betsey. She was too busy hogging the camera. It didn’t matter which way Dad turned, Betsey was in front of him!
“Betsey, let other people get a look in!” said Sherena.
Dad spent the whole day filming – first Mum and Gran’ma Liz, then Sherena and Desmond, and finally it was Betsey’s turn.
“What d’you want me to do, Dad?” Betsey asked.
“Anything you like,” said Dad, pointing his tablet at Betsey. “You can sing or dance or say anything.”
Betsey had a quick think. “I’ll say something,” she decided. “Dad, I’ll be glad when you’re a doctor and can come home for good – but I’m glad you’re not one yet so you had to make this recording!”
Dad laughed.
“I wanted to give you something special that you can film and remember.” Betsey walked over to Dad and gave him a great, big hug. “I love you, Dad, and this is one of my special hugs!”
“Every one of your hugs is special, sweet pea!” Dad smiled and he put down the tablet to hug her back. “OK everyone, it’s time to see the results.”
Everyone sat down on the sofa, eager to see what Dad had come up with. Dad connected his tablet to the telly and started it up. The TV screen cleared and there was Mum sitting in the living room. And who was that creeping into the picture to sit at Mum’s feet? Betsey! Mum smiled and waved and said how much she missed Dad when he was away. Then it was Gran’ma Liz’s turn.
Gran’ma Liz was in the kitchen singing. She didn’t realise Dad was filming her at first. When she did, she tried to shoo Dad away. But who was standing right beside her as she tried to stop Dad from filming her? Betsey! And who was that dancing behind Sherena and Desmond as they waved to the camera? Betsey. Betsey was everywhere!
“It’s like watching the Betsey Biggalow show!” Sherena complained.
> “Well, I did say I’d be on the telly,” Betsey pointed out. “I just didn’t realize how talented and brilliant I’d be!”
“You’re a star, Betsey!” laughed Dad.
And no one could argue with that!
About the Author
Malorie Blackman has written over sixty books and is acknowledged as one of today’s most imaginative and convincing writers for young readers. She has been awarded numerous prizes for her work, including the Red House Children’s Book Award and the Fantastic Fiction Award. Malorie has also been shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal. In 2005 she was honoured with the Eleanor Farjeon Award in recognition of her contribution to children’s books, and in 2008 she received an OBE for her services to children’s literature. She has been described by The Times as ‘a national treasure’. Malorie Blackman is the Children’s Laureate 2013–15.
Also by Malorie Blackman
The NOUGHTS & CROSSES sequence:
NOUGHTS & CROSSES
KNIFE EDGE
CHECKMATE
DOUBLE CROSS
NOBLE CONFLICT
BOYS DON’T CRY
THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES
TRUST ME
PIG-HEART BOY
HACKER
A.N.T.I.D.O.T.E.
THIEF!
DANGEROUS REALITY
THE DEADLY DARE MYSTERIES
DEAD GORGEOUS
UNHEARD VOICES
(A collection of short stories and poems, collected by Malorie Blackman)
For younger readers:
CLOUD BUSTING
OPERATION GADGETMAN!
WHIZZIWIG and WHIZZIWIG RETURNS
GIRL WONDER AND THE TERRIFIC TWINS
GIRL WONDER’S WINTER ADVENTURES
GIRL WONDER TO THE RESCUE
BETSEY BIGGALOW IS HERE!
BETSEY BIGGALOW THE DETECTIVE
MAGIC BETSEY
HURRICANE BETSEY