Weird Page 10

  ‘Jack?’

  Mrs Kowalski beamed and nodded. ‘He had no fire-fighting kit or anything. He simply reached in and plucked me out. We married a few months after the war ended. Now then, I mustn’t keep you. If you don’t see me tomorrow, you’ll know where I am, or at least you’ll know I’ve gone!’

  ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Thank you, Josh. You’re a kind boy. I hope you and Fizz will be very happy together.’

  I gulped and swallowed. ‘What?’ I croaked.

  ‘I hope you and Fizz will –’

  ‘Yes, I thought that’s what you said, but what did you mean?’

  Mrs Kowalski’s eyes narrowed and she peered at me closely. ‘You mean you don’t know?’ She sounded very surprised, though possibly not as surprised as I was. I shook my head. The old lady smiled and patted my arm. ‘Josh, Fizz adores you.’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Oh yes. And I think you like her?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Of course you do. She is quite lovely, and bright too.’

  ‘Weird, you mean.’

  ‘Thank goodness for weird, in that case. I wish you both good luck. Now I must get back to my little cell, which won’t be a cell much longer.’

  And off she went, leaving me with something to think about. Fizz liked me? Adored me?! Fizz? I considered the idea. She kept a scrapyard in her mouth, although to be fair, it would not be there for keeps. She wore glasses that made her look like some throwback to the seventies. I wondered what she’d look like with a different pair, or no glasses at all. Why didn’t she wear contacts? Then there was the rest of her. And the rest of her was… when it came down to basics… a slightly smaller version of Lauren! She had the same rangy legs, the same curves and all the rest – just a smaller model. Then there was her mouth, not the meshwork, but her lips that always seemed to be smiling and laughing. Oh yes, the massage! And that moment when I had her pinned to the floor. That was why I jumped off her so quickly. It wasn’t because I didn’t like her. It was because I was scared I might.

  There was something else I hadn’t admitted to myself as well. I was beginning to understand that annoying itch. It was there because I enjoyed her company. I looked forward to it without even realizing that that was what I was doing. She was sparky, funny, brave, and – what was that other word Mrs Kowalski used? – bright. Yes, well, even wise old birds make mistakes.

  Maybe I should say something. Do something. On the other hand, suppose Mrs Kowalski had imagined it all? I’d look a right idiot then. I decided to keep a watchful eye on things. It was going to be an interesting evening. Fizz was coming back to my house to work on the project. That meant meeting my mother and the animals. I wonder how she’ll cope. I wonder how I’ll cope?

  Fizz

  Hardly slept last night. I couldn’t. I had Lauren on the brain. What had Dad said? Some men go for older women. Turn that round and what you get is… what you get is older women going for younger men. In a nutshell – Lauren and Josh! I could understand her fancying him. I mean, anyone would. Probably every female who’d ever seen him was after him. Chantelle Smith is, for a start. And Ann Burger, although she doesn’t stand a chance because for one thing she’s got a stupid name that sounds like something off the fast-food counter and for two things she’s got a face like a bottom turned inside out and for three things she can’t dance and just goes wavy like a bit of seaweed; really wet, stinky seaweed like you get at the bottom of the sea, which is where Ann should be.

  Anyway – Lauren. Big sis. The sneaky moo-type animal. How could she steal Josh from me? My boyfriend! OK, I know he doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend but I know he is and that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? I bet that massage made him think. I bet he’s started thinking: Wow, that Fizz girl, she’s something else! Yeah, and then he’ll probably remember my teeth and my teeny-weeny boobs that I’m going to have to put in Gro-bags unless I get a lottery grant for a boob job – and instead he’ll think – Lauren. Only it will be more like LAUREN in big neon flashing letters.

  Star sign Slug was definitely in the ascendant. No wonder I didn’t get much sleep.

  At breakfast I passed a magazine cutting silently across the table to Mum.

  ‘No,’ she said, passing it back.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Miss Nosy, aka Miss Cow, Miss Boyfriend Burglar, i.e. Lauren. Her hand shot across the table and grabbed it just ahead of me. ‘Want a Bigger Bust?’ she read and she put on a sorrowful face and gazed at me. ‘Oh, Felicity, you poor thing, have you got tiny boobies? Don’t worry, big sis has got some binoculars upstairs if you want to try and see them properly.’

  ‘Lauren, pack it in,’ ordered Mum.

  ‘Come on, Mum, it’s a joke. I mean, what’s she worried about? There’s nothing wrong with her boobs. They’re bigger than mine were when I was her age. Why does she have to make such a fuss about everything?’

  ‘Perhaps she’s copying her big sister,’ muttered Dad.

  ‘Thank you,’ snapped Lauren. She pushed back her chair. ‘I’m going to school. It’s a place where educated people gather, people who know how to conduct civilized conversations without slagging each other off.’ And she slammed the door.

  Mum and Dad gazed at each other in amazement and then looked questioningly at me. They’ll never understand. Never ever.

  ‘She’s right, you know,’ I said and, holding my head high, I swept after her.

  Because I had abandoned breakfast I arrived at Marigolds early, which completely threw Air-bags. (They are definitely getting bigger.) She was so surprised she forgot to say anything about my skirt. Instead she asked me if I’d caught the bus.

  ‘What bus?’ I mean, what’s wrong with the woman? There isn’t a bus. Matron looked at me for a few seconds, almost as if she was waiting for something. Whatever it was it never happened and eventually she shrugged and packed me off to work – toilet rolls and soap again.

  The only interesting bit came when I was wandering the upstairs corridor and I heard a faint cry from somewhere. I walked quietly back, listening, but didn’t hear a thing and I was about to go back downstairs when I heard it again. It sounded like ‘Help!’ in a squeaky voice. I stood near the stairs and waited. There it was, and it was someone shouting for help in a squeaky voice. I hurried down the corridor and eventually traced it to one of the bathrooms.

  ‘Help!’

  I had to make a split-second decision. Should I send for Matron? Then I thought, no, whoever it was might die in the time it would take to do that, so I opened the door and hurried in.

  Mr Winkleberry (as I discovered later) was in the bath. He looked up at me with a silly smile on his face. ‘Thank goodness you’ve come, Miss,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my toe stuck up the tap.’

  I grabbed a face flannel and handed it to him. ‘I think you’d better cover yourself,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you pull the alarm cord?’

  ‘It doesn’t work.’

  I gave the cord a tug and the buzzer went off. Mr Winkleberry appeared surprised.

  ‘Oh, I thought it didn’t work. It must be an intermittent fault. I do feel stupid,’ he apologized. ‘It’s the fourth time this has happened. Why hasn’t that nice nurse come? It’s usually the nice nurse. I like her.’

  ‘Nurse Evans? She’s having a week off.’

  ‘Oh, silly me, I forgot. Of course, she’s gone to stay with her sister.’ Mr Winkleberry was staring at me, which was a bit embarrassing. ‘I haven’t aged badly, have I? Will you marry me?’

  ‘I’ll see if Matron’s coming,’ I said by way of an answer. Honestly! Mr Winkleberry must be all of eighty! I went to the door and peered out, which also gave me a good excuse to keep my back to him.

  ‘Nurse Evans has gone to see her sister. She’s got a week off,’ chatted Mr Winkleberry.

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘I like Nurse Evans. They’re twins, you know, she and her sister, identical twins. Imagine that, two of them.’

  ‘That’s wha
t happens with twins,’ I said, feeling utterly stupid and helpless. I glanced at his foot. His left big toe appeared to be firmly wedged up the tap. I mean, how do you do that? I asked him.

  ‘It just happened,’ he explained, non-explanatorily. ‘I think I’m prone to it. What do you think of that French lady?’

  ‘Madame Dupont?’

  ‘Yes. Do you think she’d go out with me if I asked?’

  ‘I thought you just asked me to marry you.’

  ‘I could marry both of you,’ said Mr Winkleberry slyly.

  I never thought I would be so glad to see Matron come bustling through the doorway.

  ‘He’s got his toe stuck,’ I said lamely and was about to add that I didn’t think I should try and remove it in case it caused damage when Matron leaned across and just whipped his foot away from the tap.

  ‘Oh, thank you!’ beamed Mr Winkleberry.

  Matron glared back at him. ‘If you do that once more, Mr Winkleberry, I shall have to cut it off!’

  ‘Ooh, Matron!’

  ‘Pass me his gown, Felicity. Thank you. You can go now. I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘But I –’

  ‘Go!’ snapped Matron, shooing me out of the room.

  Boy, oh boy! This is such a loopy place! I decided to go and see ‘that French lady’ and warn her about Mr Winkleberry. Madame Dupont was rummaging through her chest of drawers. She seemed pleased to see me, which was nice. I have noticed, because I am actually a noticing kind of person, that people often seem to go quiet when I enter a room, or scowl, or leave the room altogether. But Madame’s face lit up. She pulled a long scarf from the drawer. It was gorgeous – a deep blue colour with threads of gold and silver and ruby running through like glittery streams, and there were tiny sequins scattered here and there, constellations that flashed and vanished like the stars at night when clouds drift past.

  ‘Can I touch it?’ I asked, and she held it out. It was as light as a feather. ‘It’s so soft and beautiful,’ I told her.

  ‘My husband gave it to me many years ago in Venice and I’ve always treasured it. But, hélas, I have no use for it now. There’s nobody to wear it for here.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I agreed.

  ‘I want you to have it. You wear it, Fizz.’

  ‘But, I can’t! I mean, it’s… it’s…’ I was speechless, which was probably a first. ‘It’s so precious,’ I eventually managed to whisper.

  ‘I’m glad you said that,’ smiled Madame Dupont. ‘Now I know for sure that you must have it. It is yours. It needs a young person, a beautiful girl, who knows how precious it is – she should wear it. It is yours. I give it to you now because it’s your last day tomorrow and I may not see you.’

  ‘The tunnel!’

  ‘Oh yes, the tunnel,’ nodded Madame Dupont and she began to chuckle. ‘We shall all fly away like birds and escape this terrible prison we are in!’

  It was lovely to see her so happy. I clutched the scarf to my chest. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ I hugged her and kissed her cheek. She looked me up and down, then arranged the scarf around my neck and shoulders.

  ‘Mais oui, c’est très chic. Now go to that young man of yours.’

  ‘He’s not quite my young man yet, but I’m working on it.’

  ‘Bien. Au revoir.’

  ‘Au revoir!’ I laughed. And forgot to tell her about Mr Winkleberry. I dare say she’ll cope.

  ∗

  A bit later Matron took me to one side. ‘Felicity, I warned you to keep clear of Mr Winkleberry.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but it was an emergency and I heard someone shouting for help and I had no idea who it was until I was in there and you never said why I should avoid him, I mean if you’d warned me I would have been prepared and it’s a good thing I haven’t been traumatized. In any case it was too late and I wanted to send for you first but I thought what if whoever it is is drowning in the bath or having a seizure on the loo, because I read once about a woman who went to the loo on an aeroplane and her bottom formed a seal with the rim of the pan and when she flushed the suction practically sucked her down the loo and she almost died and I thought what if you have suction toilets here and that could happen, or maybe the bath water was freezing and they were dying of hypothermia because you can you know, even in your own bathroom, especially old people and Mr Winkleberry was…’

  ‘FELICITY! DO BE QUIET!’

  I stopped. Air-bags was rocking back and forth on her feet as if she’d been mown down by a juggernaut. She took a deep breath.

  ‘I wanted to say that I hope you were not shocked by him being… you know.’ She reddened and I shook my head.

  ‘Shocked? Oh no. I was on a nudist beach last year.’

  Matron began to rock again. ‘Really?’ she croaked.

  ‘Yes. Mum and Dad wanted to see what it was like.’

  ‘Really?’

  I nodded. ‘Lauren wouldn’t go, but I did. It was in France. They even had a shop where everyone went shopping, with no clothes on, not even the shop assistants. It was so funny.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Mum says she got poked by a baguette.’

  Matron choked and went even redder. ‘Really?’

  ‘Mmm.’ So then I asked her. It had to be done. ‘Have you ever been on a nudist beach, Matron?’

  I never knew Matron’s voice could go so high. Normally her voice was quite deep but suddenly it went as high as a bird. ‘No,’ she squeaked. There was a short silence between us and then she coughed and restarted.

  ‘I wanted to say I thought you managed Mr Winkleberry well. You should have sent for me before entering the bathroom, but you remained calm and practical in awkward circumstances. Mr Winkleberry is well known for doing such things. It’s best to simply ignore him, as you did, and pretend everything is normal. We’ve had residents like him before, men and women. Sometimes they just seem to forget.’ Matron sniffed. ‘Evidently you are more sensible than your skirts. Well done. Get back to your work now.’

  And off she went. ‘Well done’?! Cosmic! So yes, it’s been a good day I reckon, and it’s going to get even better because Josh is taking me back to his place, his proper home. I think Mr Mystery Man is going to be revealed at last. Should I wear sunglasses?

  Report for Thursday by

  Josh Cameron and Felicity

  Foster-Thompson

  ‘No way do you live here,’ said Fizz as Josh halted outside his house. At least Sheba had been reunited with his owner, so there was no manic Alsatian at the front. There didn’t seem to be any goats at the window either, but Josh knew not to be misled. It probably meant they were asleep on the armchairs, or eating the television. Fizz stared at the front door as if she expected a tiger to leap out at her through the letter box. A small, thin tiger.

  ‘But this is where Wacky-Woman lives,’ Fizz protested, regardless of the pit she was digging for herself.

  ‘That’s right. Wacky-Woman is my mother and, according to you, a lezzie,’ Josh reminded her. Blood drained from Fizz’s face.

  ‘I was exaggerating slightly,’ she offered apologetically.

  ‘Slightly?! She’s my mother!’

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Why? Because I was born to a weird lezzie?’ Josh spoke a trifle acidly.

  Fizz wanted to die on the spot. How could she have been so stupid, so thoughtless, not to mention self-defeating? Josh would never forgive her. That was it. She’d blown it. She stared at the ground for a while and finally lifted her eyes to meet his. Josh was surprised to see them shimmer.

  ‘I am so brainless,’ muttered Fizz. ‘I’m always doing this, putting my foot in it, saying stupid things to be funny and then they’re not funny at all.’

  Josh was slightly mollified and said she was only speaking what he knew lots of people thought. ‘It’s because Mum’s on her own. There’s only me, there’s no man in her life. She hasn’t time because what she really cares about is animals. The house is
crawling with them and it drives me crazy, but the thing is, she cares. She does the things that others won’t. She takes in animals and looks after them – whatever is necessary. She does it.’

  Josh was surprised at how proud of his mother he felt at that moment. He started towards the door. ‘You’d better come in if we’re going to do that writing. Just don’t be surprised if you get licked by a goat, or sat on by an elephant.’

  ‘Elephant!’

  ‘Joke,’ muttered Josh, pushing open the door.

  A tidal wave of animal odour crashed out of the house and slopped over Fizz: poo and sweat, dog biscuit and hay, wet fur and stale vegetables. Fizz gulped and stepped inside.

  ‘Keep an eye on the floor,’ Josh advised. ‘If it moves don’t tread on it. If it doesn’t move don’t tread in it.’ He called out: ‘Mum? Are you in?’

  A distant voice drifted back. ‘Garden.’

  They went out to her.

  ‘This is Fizz – Felicity,’ Josh mumbled. ‘We’ve got to write up what we did at work today.’

  Josh’s mother smiled and nodded and looked Fizz up and down. She rubbed her dirty hands against her sides. ‘So you’ve found a girlfriend at last,’ she said.

  ‘No!’ they chorused, quickly followed by a startled ‘Oh!’ from Fizz as she was nudged in the rear by a goat.

  ‘Pack it in, Larkin. Shoo!’ Josh’s mum waved her hands at the goat and he moved away. ‘Just ignore him, Fizz.’

  ‘He reminds me of Mr Winkleberry,’ laughed Fizz. ‘But the goat’s in better condition.’

  ‘Someone at Marigolds,’ Josh explained. ‘He’s a dirty old man who likes to pretend he’s stuck in the bath so that the nurse has to rescue him. Unfortunately Fizz went in to help instead.’

  Mrs Cameron looked at Fizz, a hand to her mouth.

  ‘It was an eye-opening experience,’ Fizz admitted. ‘Matron said I did very well, which was pretty astonishing because she’s like, well, like some dinosaur, you know?’