Weird Page 7

  ‘The trouble is, all the wrinklies do is sit in their rooms all day and… wait a sec!’

  ‘What? What?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea. Let me,’ said Josh, squeezing on to the seat beside Fizz.

  It is clear that life in an old people’s home is very boring, and so is our work, so we have decided that tomorrow we are going to use our initiative and organize something for the residents to do.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Josh.

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Games.’

  ‘What sort of games?’

  Josh threw his arms up in despair and managed to send Fizz flying off the edge of the chair. She sprawled on the ground. ‘Sorry,’ he said, offering a hand and pulling her back up. ‘Look, I don’t know what sort of games. I was trying to write some extra words and it just came to me. I think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Maybe it is a good idea, but it would be even gooder if we knew what the games were going to be.’

  ‘You can’t say “gooder”. It’s not a proper word. You mean “better”.’

  ‘It was a joke.’

  ‘Oh, right. One of your jokes again.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Only that your jokes aren’t very jokish sometimes.’

  ‘You can’t say “jokish”. “Jokish” is not a proper word. Hah! Up yours!’

  They began pushing each other until Fizz fell over again and in the heat of battle Josh instinctively leaped on her and pinned her down. For a moment their eyes blazed at each other, then Josh was engulfed by embarrassment and jumped off.

  ‘So that’s how you treat a girl,’ said Fizz with half a smile as she lay on the floor.

  ‘I’m going to finish this,’ Josh grunted.

  We hope to provide them with something that they will all want to take part in.

  ‘That’s three hundred and eighty-nine. Eleven words short. Oh God, my brain’s dead.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Fizz, getting up from the floor.

  We are looking forward to putting our ideas into action and will report back on it tomorrow.

  ‘There. Four hundred and six words. Done.’ She sighed. ‘Hurrah. I’d better be off home.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Josh and his heart fell out of his mouth.

  ‘What do you mean? You live here, dead-brain.’

  Josh forced a grin. ‘I know. Just forgot. I’m tired.’ Then, as he saw Fizz to the door his father arrived back from work.

  ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you today, Josh. What are you doing here? Are you off back to your place? How’s your mother?’ He eyed Fizz and his face darkened a fraction. ‘Who’s this? You haven’t been using my house for hanky-panky, have you?’

  The questions came thick and fast and now two people were watching Josh and waiting for answers.

  Josh

  I’ve been massaged. There’s a first time for everything I guess. It was… unexpected. Fizz only did my shoulders but it felt like she touched all of me until I tingled. She said that there are particular places on the body that link to other parts of the body. (As if I didn’t know.) And when she touched them it would affect other areas. Which it did. Not that I told her. Anyhow, she might do it again. That’d be good.

  She knows I live somewhere else. I had to tell her, although I did leave out one or two details, like umpteen cats, dogs, goats, frogs, plus, as of yesterday, a donkey. (‘I’ve called him Wordsworth,’ Mum told me. ‘I’ve always thought Wordsworth was a bit of a donkey.’ I didn’t ask her which bit.) But I had to promise that we’d go to my house on Thursday. That gives me less than forty-eight hours to think up something. Maybe I could use Yellow Pages and ring up a house-cleaning service, but really what I need are zoo cleaners. There wouldn’t be much point anyway because it would all be dirty and covered in hair again within seconds. What bugs me most is why do I care? What does it matter if Fizz sees where I live? It’s that itch in my back again. Annoying. Doesn’t make sense.

  Dad was hilarious when he caught Fizz and me leaving his house. Actually he was boring and embarrassing at the time. It was only later when I was telling Charlie that I realized it was funny.

  ‘He really thought you and Fizz had been up to something?’ Charlie guffawed.

  ‘Exactly. I mean, Fizz of all people.’

  ‘Oh, I dunno, Goat. I reckon she’s OK.’

  ‘You’re having me on.’

  ‘No. More to her than meets the eye, I reckon.’

  ‘Maybe it’s what meets the eye that’s putting me off – like that mouth.’

  ‘Yeah but, you know, there’s more to a mouth than just teeth, isn’t there?’

  ‘What are you on about, Charlie?’

  ‘OK, I know there’s the teeth, Goat, but there’s also lips and tongue and all that. It’s all mouth-stuff, isn’t it?’

  ‘What are you going on about, Charlie?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Ask me tomorrow. I may have figured it out by then.’

  That’s typical Charlie. He gets some vague idea that he tries to put into words and the more he tries the faster the idea evaporates. Anyway, he’s supposed to be head over heels with Evie but he was talking like he fancied Fizz. Very odd.

  Fizz was pretty surprised by what Dad was suggesting too. She thought the idea was so crazy she laughed in his face.

  ‘You think I’m with him? You’ve got to be joking. I’ve got a proper boyfriend and it’s not him. If you must know, we’ve been writing up our work experience report.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I agreed. ‘Anyhow, Fizz isn’t my kind of girl.’

  ‘No. He prefers older women,’ she said and looked at me with one eyebrow raised, like she knew something. Whatever, it made me blush because it brought Lauren to mind, in her blue bikini. It’s horrible how your brain suddenly throws these things up at inappropriate moments.

  Dad seemed satisfied with Fizz’s explanation and said we could work there again if we wanted but to ring him and make sure he was in first. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust the pair of you,’ he explained. ‘It’s because…’

  ‘… you don’t trust us,’ I finished for him. At least he smiled.

  ‘Yes, sort of. It is my house, and I know what I was like at your age.’ He grinned. Sometimes your parents can give you too much information.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Fizz. ‘I’m not going to molest him and it doesn’t matter because we’ll be going to his mum’s house next time.’

  This time it was Dad’s eyebrows that went up. Perhaps he saw the panic on my face. ‘I expect you’ll find that very interesting,’ he muttered and left it at that. But it still means I have to take Fizz back to my place on Thursday, unless I can think of a way out. Maybe I should dig a tunnel. Or even better, I could use Mrs Kowalski’s tunnel to break into Marigolds. I could hole up there!

  Fizz wanted to know why I’d pretended in the first place.

  ‘It’s a bit noisy at my house, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought you lived on your own, I mean with your mum – the two of you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what’s with the noise? I know! I bet your mum sings, doesn’t she? Opera – she sings opera. She does that wobbly, howly stuff, doesn’t she? Ooee-ooee-oo.’

  ‘No, Fizz, she doesn’t, and if she did sing like that she’d have to be put down.’

  ‘Well, what then? She plays drums? The tuba? Yeah – I bet she’s a secret tuba player!’

  ‘NO!’

  She suddenly danced in front of me so she could stare into my face, big-eyed. ‘It’s not something funny, is it? Do you quarrel or something? Does she hit you?’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘I know, you hit her!’

  ‘Will you shut up?’

  ‘I want to know!’

  ‘You want to know what my mum does?

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘She writes poetry.’
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br />   Fizz was stunned and stopped dead. ‘She writes poetry?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s not noisy.’

  ‘I never said it was.’

  ‘What are they about then, her poems?’

  ‘Animals, mostly.’

  ‘Cool! You mean like “Tiger, tiger, burning bright” – stuff like that?’

  ‘I can only remember one about stick insects.’

  Fizz stopped again. ‘Stick insects? How can you possibly write a poem about stick insects?’

  ‘Don’t you ever stop asking questions?’

  ‘Mrs Singh says if you don’t ask…’

  ‘Yeah, I know what Mrs Singh says.’

  ‘How did it go then?’

  ‘I can’t remember but it was called “The Stick Insect’s Dream”, and the creature is saying how it longs to eat more, become fat and turn into a log insect.’

  ‘That is so funny!’

  ‘It’s stupid,’ I muttered.

  ‘No, it’s really funny. I can’t wait to meet your mum.’

  My heart torpedoed my trainers. Fortunately we had reached the end of her road by this time and I said I’d see her the next day. Off she went, trailing her bag down the street. Strange creature. Great legs, though.

  Anyhow, we had quite a good time today at Marigolds. Fizz was late, but that’s so normal now Matron didn’t even bother to tell her off. She just gave a deep sigh and told us we were to switch duties and Fizz would do what I’d been doing and I’d take on her tasks.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ said Fizz, while Matron looked at her, trying to decide if she was being facetious or not. We all know the answer to that. I don’t think Fizz can do ‘serious’. I think she’s got a humour default setting in her brain or something. Wonder who her boyfriend is? Only an oddball would go out with her.

  I didn’t see Fizz for a couple of hours, I was so busy making tea and so on. At least it was a change from toilet rolls and soap. When I did eventually bump into her she asked me what games I was planning for the prunes.

  ‘Got any suggestions?’ I asked. I have learned that the only predictable thing about Fizz is that what she will say is always unpredictable. So when she suggested Strip Poker I was surprised and not-at-all surprised in equal quantities.

  ‘Somehow I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Well, that’s my only suggestion so now it’s your turn,’ insisted Fizz.

  ‘OK. We have races.’

  ‘What kind of races? Egg and spoon? How about hurdles? We could line up their Zimmer frames and they could leap over them.’

  ‘Yes, that could work,’ I said. ‘But remember they are beyond ancient, so it might be better if we lay the Zimmer frames on their sides and they only have to step over them. The problem is that most of the Zimmer frames are being used as props for the tunnel. Mrs Kowalski told me.’

  ‘That’s right,’ a voice whispered behind us and we both jumped a mile high.

  ‘My stealth slippers,’ whispered Mrs Kowalski with a triumphant smile. ‘I think I shall have to get them patented. Now, Josh, did you get the spade?’

  ‘He didn’t, I did,’ boasted Fizz.

  ‘And I put it in your wardrobe while you were in the lounge watching telly,’ I added, not to be outdone. Mrs Kowalski winked.

  ‘You two lovebirds – it’s so sweet.’

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend, Mrs Kowalski.’

  ‘No? I thought Madame Dupont said…’

  I could see Fizz anxiously shaking her head. Hardly surprising really. So was I. Fizz, my girlfriend? What was the world coming to? I thought I’d better try and change the subject.

  ‘Fizz and I are arranging some games. We haven’t told the Commandant, of course, because he’ll only say we can’t. We thought you might be a bit bored. Can you tell the others that if they want to join in, meet us up here at two o’clock?’

  ‘What a good idea – that’s when we’re supposed to be having an afternoon nap. How clever. To tell you the truth, I have always suspected it’s when Matron and Major have an afternoon nap – it’s not for us at all.’ Mrs Kowalski chuckled. ‘Even so, I don’t suppose everyone will want to come, but I’ll see who I can get. Is it a secret?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Good. What are we going to play?’

  ‘That’s a secret too.’

  ‘He means he doesn’t know,’ Fizz put in, helpfully.

  ‘What I mean,’ I corrected, ‘is that I have some organizing to do.’

  Mrs Kowalski nodded. ‘I can’t wait. The last time I played secret games was with my girlfriends on an airbase in Wales. I was given a dare and I had to put a worm in the Squadron Leader’s tea. And I did. He was such a stupid man. He wouldn’t let us do anything. We’d been trained to repair aircraft but he wouldn’t let us. He thought that because we were women we had no idea. We twiddled our thumbs and he’d give us jobs to do like practising sweeping the runway clear of snow – in August.’

  ‘August?’ I exploded.

  ‘Yes. There was no snow, of course, and we didn’t have any brooms either, so the six of us walked up and down miming the whole thing. Quite ridiculous. He was such a pompous ass.’

  ‘I’d have put a snake in his tea,’ grunted Fizz, and Mrs Kowalski smiled.

  ‘We were hopping mad at the time, but it wasn’t long before we saw the funny side. I’ve always been up for a bit of fun. And I got my own back eventually. I’ll catch up with you this afternoon.’

  And she slipped away, silent as the grave, which I guess is an unfortunate expression to associate with the oldest resident of Marigolds, but that’s what came to mind, watching her shuffle off in her stealth slippers – unusual woman. I admired her. I’d always thought old people did nothing much except play bowls and then die, but here she was, flying Spitfires and digging her way out of Marigolds.

  ‘What are you going to organize then, Mr Full-of-Bright-Ideas?’ asked Fizz.

  ‘Wheelchair races along that corridor upstairs.’

  Fizz stared at me in astonishment. She obviously thought I was joking. I wasn’t, and when she realized I meant it she went from looking astonished to being delighted.

  By two o’clock we had managed to locate three wheelchairs and get them upstairs without the management noticing. As it turned out, three was the right number because the only competitors to turn up were Mrs Kowalski, Madame Dupont and Miss Dash. Apart from that, there was only room for three wheelchairs abreast of each other anyway.

  The ladies eyed the wheelchairs and looked at us expectantly. When Fizz announced a race to the end of the corridor their faces lit up.

  ‘I have always wanted to do this,’ sighed Miss Dash.

  ‘Magnifique,’ exclaimed Madame Dupont, before leaning towards Fizz. ‘Him?’ she said just loud enough for me to hear. Fizz made a sharp ‘shush’ noise. Heaven knows what that was about.

  ‘I couldn’t find any crash helmets,’ said Fizz, ‘but I did get some racing goggles from the physiotherapy pool. Just the thing, especially if you crash into a bath.’

  Mrs Kowalski pulled on her goggles, tucked her hair behind her ears and gave the track a serious study. ‘It’s a shame there aren’t any bends, or a chicane. I met Donald Campbell, you know.’

  Miss Dash fixed Mrs Kowalski with her good eye. ‘You knew the world land-speed record-breaker?’

  ‘I met him at a party. He had very glittery eyes, I remember, a bit like you, Miss Dash, only two of them.’

  Miss Dash snorted happily. ‘You have a wicked sense of humour.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not just my sense of humour. I’m wicked through and through. Shall we race? Now then, you two mustn’t cheat. I’m the only one allowed to cheat.’

  ‘If anyone cheats it’s going to be me,’ declared Miss Dash.

  ‘Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité!’ chanted Madame Dupont, climbing into her wheelchair.

  ‘Jambon,’ retorted Miss Dash, and we looked perplexed.

  ‘I think she
might mean cochon,’ explained Mrs Kowalski.

  Madame Dupont gave a Gallic shrug. ‘Rosbif,’ she hit back.

  They crouched over their wheels and I shouted: ‘Three, two, one, GO!’

  Puffing and panting, they heaved on their wheels and edged forward, slowly gathering speed. Down the corridor they went, faster and faster. They probably reached speeds nearing two miles an hour. When they got to the end all three shouted that they’d won, but Fizz and I were still at the starting point so we couldn’t tell. We had to have a second race starting at the far end, back towards us. That worked a lot better except that Fizz and I both got run over.

  ‘I think Madame Dupont won,’ said Fizz.

  ‘Nonsense. Those two should be handicapped because I’ve only got one eye and one proper leg,’ declared Miss Dash.

  ‘Stupide,’ hissed Madame Dupont. ‘That makes no difference. In fact, if you only have one leg it probably makes you more streamlined.’

  Miss Dash picked up her walking stick and tried to poke Madame Dupont and I think there would probably have been a fight to the death if Mrs Kowalski hadn’t intervened. ‘I suggest we do it another way. Why don’t we get Fizz and Josh to push us?’

  ‘We can’t push all three of you at once,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Of course not, but we can do it in heats. You can do those two first. I’ll go to the finishing line and be the referee.’

  When she got to the far end of the corridor Mrs Kowalski called back to us. ‘Ready, steady, go!’

  I learned something straightaway. Wheelchairs are heavy and old people are even heavier. I’d laughed when I saw how slow the old ladies were at accelerating under their own steam, but it was almost as bad for us.

  ‘Josh and Miss Dash won that,’ said Mrs Kowalski.

  ‘He’s bigger than me,’ complained Fizz.

  ‘Never mind. I shall be the referee this time,’ said Madame Dupont. ‘Go back to your starting positions. Josh, you push Mrs Kowalski this time, and Fizz pushes Miss Dash. Three, two, one, go!’

  I would have won, but Fizz nudged me into the wall right at the start, deliberately, and I never had time to recover.