‘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.’
Mum rang off and then gave me a huge hug. I stayed stony still, not responding.
‘You can be ready and waiting. I’m not going,’ I said.
‘Oh, Beauty, don’t be so silly!’
‘I don’t want to look silly on television.’
‘But you won’t. You were fine on the local news, completely natural.’
‘Yes, because I didn’t know what they were doing. But I’m not going on Watchbox. I’d hate it.’
‘You’ll love it, especially when you know what they’ve got lined up for you. I’d give anything to tell you but they want it to be a total surprise,’ said Mum.
‘I know what they want me to do: show Simon and Miranda how to make cookies. Simon is this big fat jol
ly guy who shouts all the time and Miranda is little and very bouncy and beautiful. I couldn’t possibly make cookies with them. I’m not going on Watchbox, Mum, no matter what you say.’
‘But—’
‘Look, you’re getting just like Dad,’ I said, starting to shout. ‘He was always always always making me do stuff I didn’t want to do. Please don’t you start, Mum. I’m sorry, but I’m not the sort of pretty show-off girl who’d be great on television. I’d be awful. You don’t understand me one little bit, do you? You’re a totally useless mum.’
Mum stared at me. Her eyes filled with tears and she rushed upstairs. I glared after her.
I was still glaring when Mike found me, kicking the skirting board in his living room.
‘Are you looking for those rats again?’ he said. ‘Steady on, you’ll scuff the paintwork – and it won’t exactly enhance your new baseball boots either.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling bad.
‘That’s OK, kiddo. Fancy saying sorry to your mum too? I think you were shouting at her – and when I listened on the stairs just now it sounded as if she might be crying,’ said Mike.
‘Well, it’s not my fault,’ I said. ‘Just because I don’t want to go on Watchbox.’
‘What is this programme anyway? I’ve heard of it but I don’t think I’ve ever watched it.’
‘Oh, they have these two presenters on every day, and all these kids come on and do stuff, dance and sing and play around. All the girls at my old school were desperate to be on Watchbox, Skye especially.’
‘Is she the one who was particularly mean to you? There, don’t you want to be on the wretched programme, just to be one up on her?’
‘Yes, but I’d make such a total fool of myself. Everyone would laugh.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I just can’t do stuff in front of people. They’d say my silly name and every child watching would give a double take and go, “Beauty – as if!”’
‘Like they did at Seahaven Primary?’ said Mike, with a little edge to his voice. ‘You were so certain they were all going to laugh at you and tease you and make your life a misery, remember? And did that happen?’
He waited. I fidgeted. He cupped his ear, wanting a response.
‘All right, they’re all lovely at my new school,’ I said. ‘Well, except for Toby and Ben. And actually they gave me some of their perfectly disgusting home-made toffee that sticks your teeth together the other day, hoping I’d give them bunny cookies in exchange.’
‘So you were wrong about Seahaven school and its pupils?’ Mike persisted.
‘Yes, OK, I’ve admitted that.’
‘So don’t you think you might just be wrong about this television show? You could go on it and actually be a little superstar.’
‘No I wouldn’t!’
‘Yes, you would. But even if you come over all shy and can’t say a word, does it really matter? At least you’ll have had a go! And you’ll have given your mum’s cookies an enormous plug too. Do you know how much it costs to have an advert on television, Beauty? Thousands and thousands and thousands of pounds. Yet you can advertise Bunny Cookies for nothing on the most popular programme on kids television. Don’t you see what this could mean for you and Dilly? She could expand properly, take on some staff – there are heaps of mums in Rabbit Cove who’d love to do a bit of baking part-time. It’s her chance to turn Bunny Cookies into a quality product sold nationwide, Bunny Cookies in every up-market food emporium – Fortnum and Mason, Harrods, Selfridges . . .’
I stared at Mike open-mouthed. ‘Do you really think that could happen?’ I asked.
‘Well, I’m maybe going a bit over the top to prove my point. I’m not sure Dilly would want to develop the business to such an extent. But she’s taking it very seriously, Beauty. She’s getting some confidence in herself at last. You should feel so proud of her.’
‘I am,’ I said.
‘So you know how much this means to her. Though you mean much more to her than her precious cookies. In a way she’s doing all this for you – and yet what did I hear you shouting at her just now?’
‘I said she was a useless mum,’ I said, my voice going all wobbly.
‘And do you really think that?’
‘No, of course I don’t. I just said it because I was cross and wanted to hurt her. Because I truly still don’t want to go on Watchbox – but I will if you really make me.’
‘I’m not going to make you do anything, sweetheart,’ said Mike, putting his arm round me. ‘But I’m hoping like anything you’ll say you will! I’ll be so proud of you, Beauty.’
I gave him a big hug.
‘You’re very clever, you know. You don’t shout and yell, you don’t even really tell me off. You just say stuff that makes me do exactly what you want. You must have been a great dad, Mike.’
‘I think I was rather a rubbish dad, actually. Not much cop as a husband either. I just wanted to do my own thing and expected everyone else to fit in. I try not to think about the past too much. I’m not very proud of the way I behaved. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson now. That’s the only thing I’ve really learned about life. You don’t have to go on making the same old mistakes over and over again. You can’t change other people but you can change yourself. There! Wise old Mike has done enough mumbling in his beard. Scoot upstairs and make it up with your mum, poppet.’
I ran up to our room. Mum was lying on our bed, sobbing into her pillow.
‘Oh, Mum, don’t! I’m sorry,’ I said, lying down beside her.
‘I’m sorry too, Beauty. I just got so excited I forgot you’d find it a terrible ordeal. It’s OK, you don’t have to go on the silly old programme.’
‘But I will,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it, Mum – for us. To advertise Bunny Cookies. I’ll probably be absolute rubbish on the telly and you’ll die of embarrassment, but I’ll give it a go, OK?’
‘Oh, you darling!’ said Mum. ‘You’re the best daughter in the whole world.’
‘And you’re the best mum,’ I said.
I was glad I’d changed my mind and made Mum happy and Mike proud – but in the middle of the night, wide awake, I wished wished wished I didn’t have to. I kept imagining what it would be like. I’d be in a studio with a lot of cool, confident, talented, beautiful girls like Skye. They’d all dance and sing and I’d make a muck-up of my cookies and they’d all goggle at me and chortle – and children from John o’Groats to Land’s End would goggle and chortle too.
I didn’t get to sleep until about five o’clock. Mum bounced out of bed very early. I huddled under the duvet while she got ready. She seemed to be making a big performance of it, swishing clothes along the rail, opening drawers, snapping her suitcase . . .
She woke me up with a cup of tea at eight o’clock.
‘Rise and shine, my little television star,’ she said, giving me a kiss.
I sat up in bed, looking Mum up and down. She looked lovely, wearing her cream dress, her hair newly washed and fluffy round her shoulders. I took a sip of tea and made my voice gruff.
‘Your neck looks a bit bare, Dilly. Why don’t you wear your diamond collar?’ I said.
‘Oh don’t!’ said Mum, and we both laughed shakily.
‘Do you think I should tell your dad you’re going to be on the telly?’ said Mum.
‘No, because I know I’ll muck it all up,’ I said. ‘I wish you were doing it. You look fabulous, Mum, really.’
‘Do you really think so, babes?’ Mum glanced at her suitcase. ‘I’ve got another outfit in case they all look dead casual. I don’t want to let you down, darling. Now, I’ve ironed your grey dress and your white pinafore and polished your grey boots. We don’t want them to get all creased in the car so we’ll pop them on a hanger and you can wear your comfy jeans and stuff for the journey, OK?’
I nodded, touched that she’d gone to so much trouble. I still wasn’t sure I’d actually be able to stand there in front of the cameras. My tummy
flipped over at the thought and I could barely swallow my tea.
Mike insisted on doing breakfast by himself. He made Mum and me sit down as if we were ordinary guests on holiday at Lily Cottage. All the other guests made a great fuss of me and when the big black car drew up outside they all crowded on the doorstep and patted me and kissed me and wished me luck.
Mike gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear, ‘Good luck, kiddo.’
He gave Mum a hug too and whispered in her ear. She blushed and giggled. I wondered if they might just get together, in spite of what Mum said.
Then Mum and I got in the back of the car. The chauffeur was a nice fat man called Harry who hung my dress and pinafore on a special little hook inside the car and stowed Mum’s suitcase in the boot.
‘Are you comfy now, ladies? You just sit back and relax,’ he said.
I felt a horrible pang as we drove out of Rabbit Cove. I knew it was silly but I was scared I’d somehow made it all up, and once we were back on the main road to London it would vanish into the sea, a never-never land we’d never be able to reach again.
I knelt up on the seat and peered back.
‘It’s OK, babe. We’ll be back this evening,’ said Mum softly. ‘Rabbit Cove’s our home now. We’re going to live there all summer – and winter too.’
‘And the next summer and winter, for ever?’ I said.
‘Yes, yes, if that’s what we both want,’ said Mum.
I turned round and cuddled up to her.
‘You bet it is,’ I said.
Harry let us choose CDs to play in his car and we sang along for a while, but then my head started nodding. When I woke up again we were in London.
‘Oh help!’ I said, suddenly horribly scared. ‘Oh, Harry, are we nearly there?’
‘Five minutes away.’
‘I don’t want to go now!’ I said.
‘It’ll be fine, Beauty,’ said Mum, holding my hand – but her hand was cold and clammy too.
‘You’ll love being on Watchbox, young lady,’ said Harry. ‘That Simon is a right laugh – and as for Miranda – phwoar!’
We drove into the studios. I couldn’t help feeling a little bit thrilled when Harry told the security man at the gate: ‘Here’s Miss Beauty Cookson and her mum for Watchbox.’ We were let through straight away. Harry parked the car, handed over my grey outfit and the suitcase, and promised he’d be waiting to take us all the way home after the programme.