She was just joking, being sweet to me, but I really did seem to be getting a lot fitter. I was still rubbish at PE and games at school, but at least I didn’t get so breathless now. I was really getting thinner too. I was still fat, but not ultra-wobbly-enormous.
‘You’re like Nellie in Jenna Williams’s Teen series,’ said Jenny. ‘She goes swimming in Teens on a Diet, remember? Hey, Em, did you know Jenna Williams is doing a big book-signing up in London next Saturday?’
‘Really!’
‘Yes, there was all this stuff on her fan club website. She’s got a special new book coming out. It sounds soooo good – The Emerald Sisters – and there’s a big new bookshop in Covent Garden called Addeyman’s. Jenna Williams is going to be there all day. I’m so mad though, because we’re going to stay with my gran and grandad in Devon that weekend. I’ve begged and pleaded with my mum but she says I’ve got to go with them, there’s just no way I can make them see reason, so if I give you all my books, Em, will you get Jenna Williams to sign them?’
I blinked at Jenny, trying to take it all in. ‘Next Saturday? Jenna Williams is really going to be there? You can actually meet her and talk to her and get her to sign books?’
‘You can, you lucky thing. I can’t. But you will take all my books to be signed, won’t you? Please say you will, Em. Then I’ll be your best friend for ever.’
‘Hey, I’m your best friend!’ said Yvonne, giving her a nudge.
‘Yes, but if you read Jenna Williams like Em and me you’d find out you can have two best friends, like in her book Friends Forever, when Emma and Ali are parted but then Emma gets to be friends with Jampot as well. And threesomes work perfectly – look at Nellie and Marnie and Nadia in the Teen books.’
‘Will you just shut up about boring old Jenna Williams and her silly old books,’ said Yvonne, yawning hugely. ‘Don’t you two ever think of anything else?’
I found it very difficult to think about anything else.
I badly wanted to go up to London on Saturday and meet Jenna Williams.
I waited until Mum got home from work, and we were all having tea together. It was Spanish omelette. Gran now had this thing about all things Spanish. We were just waiting for her to scrape her hair into a bun and don a frilly flamenco frock.
‘I don’t like Spanish omelette. I just want chips,’ said Vita.
‘I want chips too,’ said Maxie.
‘Stop it,’ said Gran. ‘Eat your lovely omelette up, Vita, and set your brother a good example.’
‘But it’s horrible,’ said Vita, poking it with her fork. ‘Look at all these bits hiding inside!’
‘Lovely vegetables,’ said Gran.
‘Yucky vegetables,’ said Vita. ‘It looks like someone’s been secretly sick inside my omelette.’
‘Vita! Stop being so naughty, especially when Gran’s been kind enough to cook us all a meal,’ Mum said.
‘Yucky sicky yucky sicky,’ Maxie chanted.
Mum pretended to swat him. She smiled wearily at me. ‘Thank God I’ve got one sensible child. You’re ever so quiet, Em. Nothing’s wrong, is there?’
‘No, everything’s fine.’
‘How are you doing at swimming?’
‘Great. Maggie taught me how to do a racing dive this morning.’
‘Are you in a swimming race, Em?’ said Gran, scraping Vita’s offending vegetables out of her omelette.
‘I’m not fast enough to enter any races yet, but I’ll know how to do the proper dive when I am,’ I said.
‘Yucky sicky yucky sicky,’ Maxie persisted.
‘Put another record on, Maxie,’ said Mum, rubbing her forehead.
‘Sucky yicky sucky yicky,’ Maxie chanted, and then screamed with laughter.
‘Mum . . .’
‘Yes, love?’
‘Mum, you know Jenna Williams?’
‘Yes. Well?’
‘She’s doing this big book-signing up in London on Saturday. I so want to see her, and I’ve promised Jenny I’ll take all her books to get them signed, and I can’t let her down because she’s my best friend, and anyway, I’m desperate to go myself. Can I go, Mum? Please say yes. Please please please!’
‘Oh, Em.’ Mum leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead again. ‘I know how much you’d like to go, pet. But it’s Saturday. I can’t take you on a Saturday. Especially not this week, I’ve got a big wedding. I have to be at the bride’s house at breakfast time, and I’ll be working flat out till I start at the Palace. Then I can’t let Violet down, it’s just the two of us now, and there’s a whole disco-dancing troupe coming in to get their hair dyed violet for their Deep Purple routine.’
‘I know, Mum. But you don’t need to take me. I can go by myself.’
‘Don’t be silly, Em,’ said Gran.
‘I’m not silly! Look, I go swimming by myself, don’t I, and I manage perfectly, and then I go to school by myself, I do heaps and heaps of stuff by myself, so I’ll be fine going to London, it’s just a simple train ride, and I promise I won’t talk to any strangers. Please say yes, Mum.’
‘You are being silly, love,’ Mum said despairingly. ‘I couldn’t possibly let you go up to London by yourself.’
‘But I have to meet Jenna Williams, Mum, I just have to!’
‘Oh Em, don’t.’ Mum pushed her plate away and buried her head in her hands. ‘If only your dad was here to take you!’
She whispered it, but we all heard.
Maxie stopped chanting his stupid nonsense and slid under the table. Vita reached for Dancer and put her thumb in her mouth. I clasped my hands so tightly my emerald ring bit hard into my finger.
‘We don’t need him,’ said Gran. ‘I’ll take Em.’
We stared at her.
‘Don’t look so gob-smacked!’ she said. ‘Why shouldn’t I take my grand-daughter to meet this Jenna Williams? I know she means a lot to her. So I’ll take her.’
‘Oh Gran!’ I said, and I rushed round the table and gave her a big hug.
‘Hey, hey, get off me, you daft banana, you’re squashing me,’ said Gran, but she gave me a quick hug back.
‘But Mum, what about Vita and Maxie? I can’t take them with me, not if I’ve got all the bridal hairdos and then all the purple tints at the Palace.’
‘Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound,’ said Gran. ‘I’ll look after them too. We’ll have a proper treat day out in London.’
‘But we don’t like Jenna Williams,’ said Vita. ‘She’s not a treat for me and she’s certainly not a treat for Maxie because he can’t even read yet.’
‘You’ll have to choose your treat too,’ said Gran.
‘Oh wow!’ said Vita. ‘Then I want to go to a ballet and I want to go to a rock concert and I want to go to a big big shop and buy heaps of clothes and toys and my own television and I want to go to the zoo and ride on an elephant and feed the tigers and—’
‘I’ll feed you to the tigers, you greedy little madam,’ said Gran, laughing. ‘What about you, Maxie? What do you want for your treat?’
‘Want to go on the helter-skelter,’ said Maxie.
‘The what?’ said Gran. ‘Oh great! Where do you think I’m going to find a helter-skelter? In the middle of Piccadilly Circus?’
‘Not the circus, I don’t like the clowns,’ said Maxie. He looked surprised when we all laughed at him.
‘I’m going to be the clown, taking you three up to London,’ said Gran, sighing. ‘I’m beginning to regret I ever made the offer.’
I gasped, wondering if she might go back on it altogether. She saw my face.
‘Don’t worry, Em. I will take you. You deserve a little treat.’
I fixed up my towel nest in the bath that night and did a little rewriting of my Dancer story. I tore out several pages about Dancer’s mean ancient grandma reindeer who had cross-eyes and knobbly knees and a habit of giving her grandchildren a sharp thwack about the head with her gnarled antlers.
‘Em? Are you writing in there?’
Mum called. She slipped into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath. ‘How’s it going? Let’s have a peep.’
I showed her my discarded pages. They made Mum giggle.
‘I should stick them back in, they’re very funny,’ she said. ‘You know what, Em. I should take your story with you on Saturday and show Jenna Williams.’
‘Really? No, she’d think it was rubbish. It is rubbish, all babyish and stupid.’
‘I think it’s really great. Just show it to her, Em. I’m sure she’d be tickled that you like writing stories too.’
‘I can’t believe Gran’s actually taking me! Why is she suddenly being nice to me?’
‘Oh Em, work it out! If it hadn’t been for you she’d never have met her Eddie. Isn’t it a laugh, those two. She’s so head over heels, just like a teenager. And yet she’s always been so anti men. She couldn’t stick my dad.’
‘Or mine,’ I said. I paused. ‘Mum, don’t you really want to meet anyone else?’
Mum reached out and twiddled with a long strand of my hair. ‘I really don’t, Em. I can’t get interested. Not even if Robbie Williams and David Beckham came along and had a fight over who was taking me out tonight.’
‘You just want Dad back?’ I whispered.
‘I don’t even know if I really want Dad back either,’ said Mum. ‘But anyway, that’s not going to happen. No matter how many times you mutter it under your breath!’
I muttered it anyway in bed afterwards, Dancer on my hand and my story clasped to my chest. I couldn’t decide whether to show Jenna Williams or not. I planned in my head what I was going to wear to see her on Saturday. It had to be my green dress and my emerald ring, seeing as her new book was called The Emerald Sisters. My new denim jacket would detract from the all-green theme, but I could take it off inside the shop. I could ask Mum to do my hair for me, tying it with the green ribbon.
Then I had an even better idea. I couldn’t wait till the morning. I slid out of bed and pattered along the landing to Mum’s room. She was sitting up in bed reading a book called How to Enjoy Being Newly Single.
‘Em? What is it, love?’
‘Mum, will you dye my hair?’
‘What? No, you know I won’t! Not till you’re sixteen.’
‘I don’t want it dyed permanently. I just want it tinted emerald-green for Saturday! Oh please, please, please, Mum, it would look so cool and I know Jenna Williams would love it.’
‘I’m not sure even your newly constructed nice gran would take a bright green grand-daughter up to London,’ said Mum.
In the end she got up very early on Saturday morning and sprayed me a small emerald streak down one side. It looked sooo cool.
Vita wanted one too. And Maxie.
‘No, this is just for Em. She’s the one who’s Princess Emerald after all,’ said Mum. ‘Now I want you all to be very very good for Gran, do you hear me? Don’t give her any cheek, Em. Don’t show off, Vita. And don’t throw one of your wobblies, Maxie.’
Mum kissed us all goodbye and went off to blow-dry the bride and all her bridesmaids. I poured out cornflakes for Vita and Maxie and then made a round of toast and a pot of tea for Gran. I set it all out on a tray as prettily as possible, even cutting off the crusts and dividing the marmalade toast into neat triangles. It glowed against the best blue-and-white china. I cut one orange flower off her potted chrysanthemum and floated it in a little glass dish. Then I carried it carefully to Gran’s bedroom.
She was still asleep, looking so much softer without all her make-up. She had a little smile on her face. Perhaps she was dreaming about Eddie.
She frowned when she woke up and saw her special breakfast tray. ‘Why on earth have you used my willow pattern, Em? I don’t want to risk getting it chipped. And you’re not supposed to pick the flowers off pot plants, you silly girl.’
‘I just wanted to make your breakfast look nice for you, Gran,’ I said.
Gran sat up properly, smoothing her hair with her fingers. Her face smoothed out too. ‘Oh, Em. Well. It does look nice. Almost too good to eat. Thank you, dear.’ Then she blinked. ‘Em? What’s happened to your hair?’
She wasn’t at all pleased about the green streak, but there was nothing she could do about it.
‘Jenna Williams will like it,’ I said.
‘Then Jenna Williams has no taste,’ said Gran. ‘It’s criminal to muck about dyeing your lovely hair.’
‘My crowning glory! Eddie said so,’ I said, bouncing on Gran’s bed.
‘Watch my tea! Keep still, Em.’
‘I can’t, I’m so excited! I’m going to see Jenna Williams!’
‘All this fuss! You’re a weird kid, our Em,’ said Gran. ‘Still, it’s good to see you so full of beans.’
We had a little argument when we were about to leave home.
‘What on earth are those huge great carrier bags?’ Gran asked.
‘It’s all Jenny’s Jenna Williams books. I promised I’d get them signed for her. Then there’s my Jenna Williams books too,’ I said. There was also my Dancer story, but I felt too shy to tell Gran that I might be going to show it to Jenna Williams. I had Dancer too, but I didn’t have to carry her – she sat on my hand and helped me carry the bags.
‘For pity’s sake, you can’t lump all that lot round London. Jenny can get her own books signed,’ said Gran.
‘But she can’t, Gran, that’s the whole point. I promised. I can’t let her down, she’s my friend. And I’ve got to get my books done.’
‘Choose one of your books and one of Jenny’s, that’s more than enough. And for pity’s sake take that silly puppet off, we’re certainly not carting that up to London too.’
‘Dancer’s part of our family, Gran!’
‘Don’t talk so wet! She’s not yours anyway, she’s Vita’s.’
I had done a deal with Vita (involving a big bag of fizzy cola sweets, my silver glitter nail varnish and my purple gel pen) that I got to wear Dancer. I needed to hide my emerald ring so that Gran wouldn’t fuss about me losing it. I also needed Dancer’s comfort and support in case I was struck dumb in front of Jenna Williams.
‘I don’t mind sharing Dancer with Em,’ Vita said sweetly, in a goody-goody little girly lisp.
Gran patted Vita and shook her head at me. ‘All right, Em, if you want to look a fool wearing that reindeer puppet, then so be it. But you really can’t drag all those books along. I can’t carry them for you, you know how my hands play me up. You’ll end up with arthritis too, lumping heavy bags around like that.’
‘OK, OK, I won’t take the carrier bags,’ I said, changing tactics. ‘I’ll just take a few books, and I’ll put them in my school bag and carry them on my back.’
I rushed off to the bedroom. I managed to cram nearly all Jenny’s and my books into my school bag, with my Dancer story squashed in at the side. I nearly fell flat on my face when I dragged the bag onto my back, but I was sure I’d get used to the weight. I pretended it was feather-light in front of Gran, and thank goodness she didn’t see just how bulky the bag had become.
I was boiling hot and exhausted by the time we’d walked ten minutes to the railway station, and my long hair kept getting stuck under the bag straps so that I nearly got scalped if I bent my head.
‘Are you all right, Em? Is that bag too heavy for you?’ said Gran.
‘I’m fine! It’s not heavy at all,’ I said determinedly.
It was an enormous relief to take the bag off on the train. I wriggled my sore shoulders. Vita and Maxie copied me, and we made up our own mad little sitting-down dance routine, left shoulder wriggle, right shoulder wriggle, left arm out, right arm out, hands on top of head, both hands waving in the air, repeat as often as you like.
We repeated it a great many times. Gran told us off at first, saying we were making an exhibition of ourselves, but some other children started copying us, and then their mum and dad joined in too. Gran raised her eyebrows and sighed at all of us – but she had one quick little go herself
as the train drew into Waterloo Station.
‘I looked up the Jenna Williams website on the computer at work,’ Gran said. ‘She’s not signing until one o’clock, so we’ve got plenty of time to look around first.’
We walked along the embankment, staring up at the great Millennium Wheel.
‘Oh, Gran, can we go up in it?’ said Vita.
‘There’s a big queue already. I don’t think so, pet. I can’t stand hanging around in queues. It makes my back ache just standing still – and it’s such a waste of time,’ said Gran.
‘Oh please please please, pretty please, Gran,’ said Vita.
‘Well . . .’ said Gran, wavering.
Maxie stared at them as if they’d gone mad. ‘No!’ he said. ‘No, it’s too big, too high, too scary!’
‘I thought you liked helter-skelters,’ said Gran. ‘They’re big and high and scary.’
‘I’m on a mat on someone’s lap in a helter-skelter,’ said Maxie.
‘Tell you what, Maxie, we could put my jacket on the floor of the glass pod and you could sit on my lap and then you’d feel safe as safe,’ I said.
We persuaded him it would work. We had to queue for tickets and then we had to join another queue to get on the wheel.
‘My blooming back!’ said Gran. ‘I don’t know about Maxie sitting down, but I’m going to have to lie down, stretched full out. I don’t think this is a very good idea.’
Maybe Gran was right. I kept remembering a Jenna Williams story called Flora Rose, where little Lenny gets terribly scared on the Millennium Wheel. I was starting to get a little bit anxious myself. It did look very very high, and you were shut up in the pod a long time. What would happen if the wheel got stuck when you were right at the top, unable to get out?
‘I don’t want to!’ Maxie whined. ‘It’s scary.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I lied. I tried to pick him up but I couldn’t manage to carry him and the book bag.
Gran had to carry Maxie, though she sighed some more when his dusty shoes kicked at her pale pink skirt.
‘Watch your feet, Maxie! And stop that whining, it’s getting on my nerves.’