Answers:

Tiger; Sydney; Charlie’s; chip butties; the rose-quartz bracelet; Susan; black; Saul; a white-chocolate-dipped strawberry; candyfloss pink!

 

1

I HAD TWO birthdays in one week.

My first birthday was on Friday. Mum and Steve woke me up singing ‘Happy Birthday to you’. They’d stuck candles in a big fat croissant and put a little paper umbrella and a cocktail stick of cherries in my orange juice.

My little half-brother Tiger came crawling into my bedroom too. He’s too tiny to sing but he made a loud he-he-he noise, sitting up on his padded bottom and clapping his hands. He’s really called Tim, but Tiger suits him better.

I blew out all my candles. Tiger cried when the flames went out, so we had to light them all again for him to huff and puff at.

I had my birthday breakfast in bed. Mum and Steve perched at the end, drinking coffee. Tiger went exploring under my bed and came out all fluffy, clutching one of my long-forgotten socks. He held it over his nose like a cuddle blanket, while Mum and Steve cooed at his cuteness.

Then I got to open my presents. They were wrapped up in shiny silver paper with big pink bows. I thought they looked so pretty I just wanted to hold them for a moment, smoothing the silver paper and fingering the bows, trying to guess what might be inside. But Tiger started ripping them himself, tearing all the paper and tangling the ribbon.

‘Tiger, stop it! They’re my presents, not yours,’ I said, trying to snatch them out of the way.

‘He’s just trying to help you unwrap them, Flossie,’ said Steve.

‘You need to get a bit of a move on, darling, or you’ll be late for school,’ said Mum.

Tiger said He-he-he. Or it could have been Ha-ha-ha, meaning Ya-boo-sucks-to-you.

So I lost my chance of savouring my five shiny silver presents. I opened them there and then. I’ll list them. (I like making lists!)

I left number 5 till last because it was big but soft and squashy, and I hoped it might be a cuddly animal (any kind, but not a tiger). He had torn off half the paper already, exposing two big brown ears and a long pointy nose. I delved inside and found two tiny brown ears and a weeny pointy nose. It was a mother kangaroo with a baby kangaroo in her pouch.

Tiger held out his hands, trying to snatch the baby out of the pouch.

‘No, Tiger, he wants to stay tucked in his mummy’s pocket,’ I said, holding them out of his reach.

Tiger roared.

‘Just let him play with the baby kanga a minute. He won’t do him any harm,’ said Steve, going off to the bathroom.

Steve talks a lot of rubbish sometimes. Tiger grabbed the baby kangaroo and shoved him straight in his mouth, ears, snout, his entire head.

‘Mum, Tiger’s eating him!’ I protested.

‘Don’t be silly, Floss. Hang on!’ Mum hooked her finger into Tiger’s bulging mouth and rescued the poor little baby kangaroo.

‘He’s all covered in Tiger’s slobber!’ I said.

‘Just wipe it on the duvet. Don’t be such a baby, Birthday Girl,’ said Mum, giving me a little poke. ‘Do you like your presents, Floss?’

‘Yes, I love them,’ I said, gathering them all up in my arms away from Tiger.

I supposed I loved my little half-brother, but I wished we could keep him in a cage like a real tiger.

‘There’s actually another extra present,’ said Mum. Her eyes were shining as brightly as my birthday candles. She raised her voice, shouting to Steve in the bathroom. ‘Shall I tell Floss now, Steve?’

‘OK, yeah, why not?’ he said, coming back into my bedroom, shaving soap all over his face.

He put a little blob of shaving soap on the tip of Tiger’s chin and pretended to shave him. Tiger screamed delightedly, rolling away from his dad. He wiped shaving soap all over my special cherry-patterned duvet. I rubbed at the slimy mark, sighing heavily.

‘So, OK, what’s my extra present?’ I asked warily.

I very much hoped Mum wasn’t going to announce she was going to have another baby. One Tiger was bad enough. Two would be truly terrible.

‘It’s a present for all of us. The best present ever, and it’s all due to Steve,’ said Mum. She was looking at him as if he was a Super Rock Star/Footballer for England/Total God, instead of a perfectly ordinary actually quite boring guy who picks his nose and scratches himself in rude places.

Steve smirked and flexed his muscles, striking a silly pose.

‘Steve’s got promotion at his work, Floss,’ said Mum. ‘He’s being made a manager – isn’t that incredible? There’s a sister company newly starting in Sydney and Steve’s been asked to set things up there. Isn’t that great?’

‘Yeah, I suppose. Well done, Steve,’ I said politely, not really taking it in at all. The stain on my duvet wasn’t budging.

‘Sydney!’ Mum said.

I blinked at her. I didn’t quite get the significance. Sydney was just an old-fashioned guy’s name.

‘She doesn’t have a clue where it is,’ said Steve, laughing. ‘Don’t they teach kids geography nowadays?’

Then I got it. ‘Sydney in Australia?’

Steve clapped me. He made Tiger clap his little pink fists too. Mum gave me a big big hug.

‘Isn’t it exciting, Floss! Think of all the sunshine! You just step out of the city and there you are, on a fabulous beach. Imagine!’

I was imagining. I saw us on a huge white beach, with kangaroos hopping across the sand and koalas climbing palm trees and lots of beautiful skinny ladies like Kylie Minogue swimming in the turquoise sea. I saw Mum and me paddling, hand in hand. I sent Steve way way out to sea on a surfboard. I stuck Tiger in a kangaroo’s pouch and sent them hopping far off into the bush.

‘It’s going to be so wonderful,’ said Mum, lying back on the bed, arms and legs outstretched, as if she was already sunbathing.

‘Yeah, wonderful,’ I echoed. ‘Wait till I tell Rhiannon and everyone at school!’ Then I paused. ‘What about school?’

‘Well, Steve reckons we’ll be in Sydney a good six months, though we’re not permanently emigrating. You’ll go to a lovely new Australian school while we’re out there, darling,’ said Mum. ‘It’ll be a fantastic experience for you.’

My heart started thumping. ‘But I won’t know anyone,’ I said.

‘You’ll soon make heaps of new friends,’ said Mum.

‘I like my old friends,’ I said.

Rhiannon and I had been best friends for almost a whole year. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world to be Rhiannon’s best friend because:

I loved Rhiannon to bits even though she could be a bit bossy at times. She generally told me what to do. But I didn’t really mind because mostly I just wanted to please her.

I tried to imagine this big new Australian school. I’d watched the soaps on television. I made the girls wear funny check dresses and smile a lot with their big white teeth. They all spoke together. ‘G’day, Flossie, can we be your friends?’ they chorused.

‘Well, I’d normally say yes. But I’m Rhiannon’s friend,’ I explained.

‘Hey, daydream Birthday Girl!’ said Mum, giving me a kiss. ‘I’m going to pop in the bathroom after Steve. Keep an eye on Tiger for me.’

You needed two eyes looking out for Tiger. Plus another pair at the back of your head.

I gathered up all my birthday presents and put them up on top of my bookshelf, out of his reach. I pictured myself wearing my new T-shirt and jeans and trainers, pulling my trolley-case, kangaroo under one arm, bouncing off to Australia. I saw how cleverly Mum had chosen my presents.

Then I looked at the stationery set. I fingered the writing paper and envelopes and the gel pens all the colours of the rainbow. Why would I be writing lots of letters?

Then my heart thumped harder. I dropped the stationery and the pens and ran to the bathroom. ‘Mum! Mum!’ I yelled.

‘What?’ Mum was larking around with Steve, splashing him like a little kid.

‘Mum, what about Dad?’ I said.

Mum peered at me. ‘I expect your dad will phone you tonight, Floss. And you’ll be seeing him on Saturday, same as always.’

‘Yes, I know. But what’s going to happen when we’re in Australia? I can still see him, can’t I?’

Mum’s brow wrinkled. ‘Oh, come on, Flossie, don’t be stupid. You can’t nip back from Australia every weekend, obviously.’

‘But I can go sometimes? Every month?’

‘I’m doing very nicely, thank you, but we’re not made of money, kiddo,’ said Steve. ‘It costs hundreds and hundreds of pounds for a flight.’

‘But what am I going to do?’

‘You can write to your dad,’ said Mum.

‘I knew that’s why you got me that stationery set. I don’t want to write to him!’

‘Well, if he’d only join the modern world and get a mobile and a computer you could text and email him too,’ said Mum.

‘I want to be able to see him like I do now,’ I said.

‘Well, we’re not going to Australia for ever,’ said Mum. ‘Those six months will whizz past and then we’ll be back. Unless of course it’s so wonderful out there that we decide to stay on! Still, if we did decide to stay for good we’d come back on a visit.’

‘Your dad could maybe come out to Sydney to see you,’ said Steve.

He said it nicely enough but there was a little smirk on his face. He knew perfectly well my dad was having major money problems. He had barely enough for the bus fare into town. If flights to Australia cost hundreds of pounds there was no hope whatsoever.

‘You’re mean, Steve,’ I said, glaring at him.

‘Oh, Floss, how can you say that? Steve’s the most generous guy in the whole world,’ said Mum, deliberately misunderstanding. ‘He’s booked for us to go to TGI Friday’s as a special birthday treat for you tonight.’

‘I’d sooner have a birthday meal at home. A little party, just Rhiannon and me.’

‘I haven’t got the time, Floss. I’ve got one million and one things to get organized. Come on, you know you love TGI Friday’s. Don’t spoil your birthday making a fuss about nothing.’

I stomped back to my bedroom.

My dad wasn’t nothing! I loved him so much. I missed him every week when I was at Mum and Steve’s.

I’d forgotten I’d left Tiger in my bedroom. He’d got at my new gel pens. He’d decided to decorate my walls.

‘You are a menace,’ I hissed at him. ‘I wish you’d never been born. I wish my mum had never met your dad. I wish my mum was still with my dad.’

Tiger just laughed at me, baring his small sharp teeth.

 

2

I CHEERED UP just a little bit when I got to school. I love Mrs Horsefield, my teacher. She gave me a great big smile when I came into the classroom and said, ‘Happy birthday, Floss.’ She gave me an iced bun to eat at break time. She gives each child in her class a bun when it’s their birthday, but mine was a special big one with pink icing and a cherry on the top.

Rhiannon was looking at it enviously. She especially likes cherries.

‘Want half my birthday bun?’ I offered.

‘No, it’s yours,’ she said, but she looked hopeful.

I gave her the biggest half of the bun with the cherry.

‘Yum!’ said Rhiannon, sucking it like a sweet. ‘OK, open your present from me, Floss.’

She gave me a pink tissue parcel tied with pink ribbon, and a special card. I really wanted us to go off together so that I could open my present privately, but Rhiannon seemed to want me to open it with everyone gathered around. She’d given me a proper shop-bought card of two girls hugging. It said at the top in pink lettering, YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND. I started to be glad that Margot and Judy and all their gang were lurking. See! I wanted to say. Rhiannon’s my best friend.

‘Open your present, Floss. You’re such a slowpoke,’ said Margot.

She meant slowcoach. She’s got this irritating habit of talking in a fake American accent and using silly American expressions. She thinks it makes her sound sophisticated but I think she sounds plain stupid.

I could make a l-o-n-g list of reasons why I can’t stick Margot. She used to be ordinary – in fact I can barely remember her back in the baby classes – but this year she’s making out she’s all grown up. She’s always giggling about boys and sex and pop stars. Judy giggles too. She looks as babyish as me but she’s got an older brother who tells her all these really rude jokes. I don’t understand most of them. I’m not sure Judy does either.

I was determined to take my time, smoothing the satin ribbon, feeling the little knobs of my present under the pink tissue, trying to guess what it was, but Rhiannon was getting impatient too.

‘Hurry up, Floss. I want to see if you like it!’

So I pulled the ribbon off and tore the tissue paper and held my present in my hand. It was a beautiful bracelet made of shiny pink beads.

‘They’re real rose quartz,’ said Rhiannon proudly.

‘They’re really really lovely,’ I whispered.

I was scared they must have cost a lot of money. I’d given Rhiannon a bracelet for her birthday, but it was just a pink and blue and purple friendship bracelet that I’d made myself. I’d also given her a friendship bracelet braiding set and hoped she’d make one specially for me, but she hadn’t got round to it yet.

‘It’s like . . . awesome,’ said Margot. ‘Let’s try it on, Floss.’

She snatched it straight out of my hand and wound it round her own wrist.

‘It’s my bracelet!’ I said.

‘OK then, baby – I’m not taking it, I’m just trying it on,’ said Margot.

‘You’re trying it on all right,’ I said grimly.

‘You’ve got like the most amazing taste, Rhiannon,’ said Margot. ‘Where did you get the bracelet? I wish I had one like that.’

Rhiannon started going on about this jewellery shop in some arcade, not really trying to help me get my bracelet back. I knew if I asked, Margot would just muck around, making fun of me. I wanted to grab it right back off her horrible bony wrist, but I was frightened of breaking it.

Susan shook her head at me sympathetically. She was standing right at the back, away from the others. She was new and hadn’t really made any friends yet. People teased her because she kept coming top of the class and she had a silly surname, Potts. Well, Rhiannon said it was silly. She teased her too. Rhiannon was very good at teasing. (Or very bad.) I wished she wouldn’t. I begged her not to, but she wouldn’t listen. Rhiannon bosses me about but you can’t ever boss her. But she is my best friend.

‘Rhiannon,’ I said desperately.

Rhiannon held out her hand to Margot. ‘Give us the bracelet back then, Margot.’

Margot handed it over reluctantly.

‘There,’ said Rhiannon, winding it round my wrist and doing up the clasp. Her cheeks were the delicate pink of the rose quartz. She was obviously pleased her bracelet had been so admired. ‘What other presents did you get, Floss? What did your mum give you?’

‘Clothes and one of those pull-along case thingies and a kangaroo cuddly toy,’ I said.

‘A cuddly toy! How gross!’ said Margot. ‘Imagine, still playing with teddies! What about dolls?’

I blushed, holding my breath. Rhiannon had seen my Barbie dolls when she came to play. I prayed she wouldn’t tell on me.

‘Come on, Rhiannon,’ I said, taking her by the arm. ‘I want to tell you this huge secret. Wait till you hear what my mum told me.’

‘What?’ said Rhiannon, licking a little dab of icing off her finger.

‘Yeah, what secret?’ said Margot. ‘You always have to create, like, a drama, Floss.’

‘Well, I guess this is pretty dramatic,’ I said, stung. I decided to show her. I took a deep breath. ‘We’re only going to Australia,’ I said.

They all stared at me. Rhiannon looked particularly impressed. ‘Wow, you’re going on holiday to Australia!’

‘Well, I’m going on holiday to Orlando,’ said Margot. ‘It’s got Disneyland. Australia hasn’t got Disneyland.’

‘It’s got the Great Barrier Reef and Bondi Beach and Ayers Rock,’ said Susan, who had crept to the edge of the group. ‘Though actually we should call it by its Aboriginal name, Uluru.’

‘Nobody asked your opinion, Swotty Potty,’ said Rhiannon. She turned to me. ‘So when are you going on this holiday, Floss? Any chance I can come too?’

‘I wish you could,’ I said. I was regretting telling everyone now. It made it seem too real. I had to explain properly. ‘It’s not a holiday. We’re going to stay there for six whole months.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ I said miserably. ‘Only I don’t think I want to. I like it here. I’ll miss my dad so much. And I’ll miss you, Rhiannon.’

‘I’ll miss you too!’ she said, and she hugged me tight.

I hugged her back.

Margot and Judy made silly noises and stupid comments but I didn’t care. Susan hitched her glasses higher up her nose, gave me a wan smile and wandered off. I felt bad that Rhiannon had called her names, but I couldn’t help it. I liked Susan. I wanted to be kind to her but I knew if I started speaking to her properly people would start teasing me too.

I started to think about the Australian school during lesson time. I would be the new girl. What if everyone started picking on me? I was quite clever but I didn’t ever come top, so they wouldn’t tease me for being swotty, would they? I had a perfectly ordinary kind of name, Flora Barnes. My initials didn’t spell anything silly or rude. I didn’t mind being called Floss or Flossie for a nickname. Rhiannon once or twice called me Flopsy Bunny but that was when she was making a big fuss of me.

I’d never ever find a friend in Australia like Rhiannon.

‘You will stay my friend when I’m out in Australia, won’t you?’ I begged her at lunch time. ‘And still be best friends when I come back?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Rhiannon.

She wasn’t really concentrating. She was looking over at Margot and Judy, who were huddled up looking at some stupid pop magazine. They were giggling and kissing their fingers and stroking all their favourite boy bands. Rhiannon giggled too, watching them.

‘You won’t make friends with Margot when I’m gone, will you?’ I said anxiously.

‘Give it a rest, Floss! Which part of Australia are you going to, anyway?’

‘Sydney.’

‘Is that near Brisbane? That’s where they make Neighbours.’

We went to the library and found a big book about Australia.

‘Wow!’ said Rhiannon, flipping through pictures of bush and beaches and orange rocks and weird white buildings. ‘You are so lucky, Floss, it looks fantastic.’

It didn’t seem like a real place. It was all too bright and highly coloured and bizarre, like a cartoon. I looked down at the parquet pattern on the library floor and tried to imagine myself going down down down for thousands of miles and then bobbing out in Australia.

I’d never quite got to grips with geography. I knew the people in Australia weren’t really upside down, but it still seemed a little odd all the same.

We read a ballad about an Australian called Ned Kelly in our English lesson that afternoon. He was a sheep thief and he ended up getting hanged.

‘You’d better not steal any little lambs out in Australia, Floss!’ said Rhiannon.

Mrs Horsefield asked me to read a ballad about a Tragic Maiden out loud. I read it dramatically, making the Tragic Maiden weep and wail. Margot and Judy started snorting with laughter. Even Rhiannon smirked a little. I could feel myself blushing.

‘That was very good, Floss,’ said Mrs Horsefield kindly. ‘You’re very good at reading aloud.’

I’d always liked reading to my mum when she did the ironing or started cooking, but now she chatted to Steve instead. I’d tried reading aloud to Tiger, but he fussed and fidgeted and kept wanting to turn the page before I’d finished reading all the words.

‘Now I want you to have a go at making up your own ballads,’ said Mrs Horsefield.

‘Does it have to be all daft and old fashioned and tragic?’ said Rhiannon.

‘It can be about anything at all, as long as it’s in ballad form and tells a story,’ said Mrs Horsefield.

Everyone started groaning and scratching their heads and mumbling. Everyone except Susan, sitting by herself in front of us. She was scribbling away like anything.

‘Look at Swotty Potty,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Trust her. Oh yuck, I hate this ballad lark. What have you put so far, Floss?’

‘The girl sat in an aeroplane,

Watching the clouds with wonder,

Worrying how she’d get on

In her new life Down Under.’

‘Down Under what?’ said Rhiannon. ‘That sounds stupid.’

‘Well, I know. I want to say “In Australia” but I can’t find a word for it.’

‘What about . . . wailier?’ Rhiannon suggested. ‘The girl went ever more weepier and wailier because she was missing her best friend Rhiannon now she was in Australia. There!’

‘It doesn’t fit, Rhiannon. It’s too long.’

‘Well, say it very quickly then. Now help me, Floss. So far I’ve got, There was a pretty young girl called Rhiannon, who joined a circus and got shot out of a cannon. Hang on, inspiration! It hurt a lot when she got shot, that poor pretty young girl called Rhiannon. There! Maybe I’m not such pants at ballads after all. Even though I don’t show off in a swotty way like some people.’ Rhiannon put her foot up and kicked Susan’s chair.

Susan jumped and her pen squiggled right across her page. She sighed and tore it out of her exercise book. Then she turned round. ‘If you were a little bit swottier you’d realize that you’ve written a limerick, not a ballad.’

‘Who cares what you think, Swotty Potty? You think you’re it just because you like writing this poetry rubbish. What have you put anyway?’ Rhiannon reached out and snatched Susan’s spoiled page.

‘Oh yuck, what kind of daft drivel is that? What’s she on about? Listen, Floss.

‘She walked along the corridors,

Pacing each floorboard with care.

She didn’t step on a single crack

But no one knew she was there.

She edged around the wooden fence,

Tapping each post in turn,

She counted each one attentively

But she had a lot to learn.

She tried to do maths magic,

Adding all the sums in her head,

But all the figures multiplied

Her loneliness and dread . . .

‘What kind of weirdo nonsense is that? And it’s not a ballad either because it doesn’t tell a story, it’s just a lot of rubbish about nothing, so ya boo sucks to you, Swotty.’

Rhiannon crumpled the page up and threw it at Susan’s head.

Susan turned round and chopped her hand quick on Rhiannon’s shins.

‘Get off! That hurt,’ said Rhiannon.

‘Good,’ Susan muttered. ‘Now get your feet off my chair.’

‘Don’t you tell me what to do, Swotty Potty,’ said Rhiannon. She leaned right forward on the edge of her seat, ready to kick Susan hard in the back. But Susan grabbed her by the ankles and pulled. Rhiannon lost her balance. She shot straight off her chair and landed with a thump on the floor. She shrieked.

‘Rhiannon! Whatever are you doing! Get up and stop clowning around,’ said Mrs Horsefield.

‘Ouch!’ said Rhiannon. ‘I think I’ve broken my elbow. And my wrist. And my bum hurts horribly.’

‘I think you’ll live,’ said Mrs Horsefield. ‘It serves you right for messing about.’

‘It wasn’t my fault, Mrs Horsefield,’ said Rhiannon. She paused. We had a strict code about telling tales. ‘Someone pulled me right off my chair.’

Susan kept very still.

‘Hmm,’ said Mrs Horsefield. She came over and felt Rhiannon’s arm carefully. Rhiannon moaned and whimpered.

‘I think you’re making a fuss about nothing, Rhiannon,’ said Mrs Horsefield briskly. Then she paused. She was looking at Susan now. ‘However, it’s very silly and very dangerous to pull anyone off their chair – even if they’re being incredibly provoking. I’m surprised at you, Susan.’

Susan said nothing but her face went very red.

I felt terrible. We’d got poor Susan into trouble.

I couldn’t concentrate on my ballad any more. I kept thinking about Susan’s. I wondered if she really went round counting things in her head to make everything turn out all right. Only they didn’t ever turn out right. We were all horrible to her. Especially Rhiannon.

I edged closer to Rhiannon. ‘Do you think we should maybe tell Mrs Horsefield it was our fault, because we snatched Susan’s ballad and made fun of her?’ I said. I delicately said ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – but Rhiannon was still outraged.

‘Are you joking?’ she hissed. ‘She really hurt me! My arm aches awfully. I bet it is broken, or at the very least badly sprained. Swotty Potty deserves to get into trouble. She’s turned into mad Psycho Girl, out to get me.’

‘Oh Rhiannon, you know that’s not true,’ I said anxiously.

‘Are you calling me a liar?’ said Rhiannon. She sat up properly and looked me straight in the eyes. ‘Whose side are you on, Floss? Do you want to break friends and go off with Swotty Potty and write soppy poems together?’

‘No! No, of course not. You’re my best friend, you know that.’

‘Yes, and I gave you the bracelet with real rose-quartz stones even though I really wanted it for myself. But I gave it to you because that’s what best friends are for. Even though you’re not even going to be here soon, as you’ll be flying off to Australia.’

‘But I don’t want to go! You know I don’t. I’d give anything to stay,’ I said.

‘Well, why don’t you then?’ said Rhiannon.

‘Why don’t I what?’ I said, muddled.

‘Stay here. Kick up such a big fuss that they have to change their minds.’

I thought about it. ‘I’m not really very good at making a big fuss,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know, you’re hopeless.’ Rhiannon sighed irritably. ‘You’re so gutless, Floss. You just try to be nice to everyone.’

I felt wounded but I reached out and hooked my little finger round Rhiannon’s.

‘Ouch, watch out, that’s my sore arm! What are you doing?’

‘Trying to make friends properly. Because you’re my best friend in all the world and I love my beautiful bracelet and I really will try not to go to Australia. Anyway, we probably won’t be going until the summer holidays and that’s ages away, so don’t let’s even think about it now.’ I hung onto Rhiannon’s finger and she grinned at last and hooked her own little finger properly round mine and we vowed to make friends, make friends, never ever break friends.

Susan had her head bent over her exercise book, writing her ballad out all over again. Her soft brown hair fell forward, showing the white nape of her neck. She sniffed once or twice, as if she might be trying not to cry.

I still felt very bad about her, but there was no way I could comfort her, not in front of Rhiannon.

I showed off my rose-quartz bracelet to Mum when I got home from school. She was clearing out the kitchen cupboards, while Tiger bashed saucepans at her feet.

‘Oh, trust Rhiannon and her mother. They always have to show off how much money they’ve got,’ said Mum. ‘Hey, did you tell Rhiannon about Australia? I bet she was envious.’

‘Yes, she was. Ever so. Oh Mum, I’m going to miss her so much.’

‘You soppy old thing,’ said Mum, giving me a hug. ‘I think it’ll do you good to make some new friends. You let Rhiannon boss you around too much.’

‘I’d quite like to be friends with Susan, this new girl, but Rhiannon hates her. What do you think I should do, Mum? Shall I try to be nice to Susan even if it makes Rhiannon mad at me?’

‘I don’t know, lovey. It’s all a bit pointless, isn’t it, seeing as we’ll be in Sydney in two weeks’ time.’

I stared at Mum. ‘In two weeks?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me we were going that quick?’

‘Quickly, Flora – do speak properly. There didn’t seem any point in telling you earlier, you’d have just got all worked up and excited and rushed round telling everyone.’

I thought hard. ‘Telling Dad,’ I said.

‘Yes, well, it’s not really anything to do with him.’

‘He’s my dad!’

‘Yes, I know. Calm down. Don’t shout like that. Honestly! If you must know, I was trying to be tactful to your dad. Steve’s done so brilliantly to be given the chance to get the Australian branch up and running. He’ll be earning twice the money – I just can’t believe it! It felt like rubbing your dad’s face in it because he’s such a failure.’

‘Dad’s not a failure,’ I said fiercely.

Mum cupped my face with her hands. ‘Oh come on, Floss. I know you love your dad and he’s a good dad in lots of ways. He’s a very sweet kind man, and I’d never deliberately badmouth him to anyone – but he’s useless when it comes to business, even you must admit that. He’s in debt up to his eyeballs and that awful café is fast running out of customers. I don’t know why he doesn’t call it a day and sell up altogether.’

‘Dad wouldn’t ever sell the café!’ I said.

‘Yes. Well. Goodness knows what else he could do! Anyway, I just thank God I don’t have to slave there any more,’ said Mum. ‘Oh Floss, isn’t it wonderful!’ She kissed me on the tip of my nose. ‘Aren’t we lucky girls! In two weeks’ time we’ll be stepping out of that plane into glorious sunshine.’ She threw old rice packets and sauce bottles and jam jars with a thump thump thump into the rubbish bin as she spoke. Tiger accompanied her on saucepan percussion.

‘You’ve got some serious sorting out to do yourself, Floss,’ said Mum. ‘We’re going to put most of our stuff in storage. There’s no point keeping any old rubbish though. It’s time you chucked a lot of your old toys out.’

‘I suppose I could throw away my Barbies,’ I said.

‘That’s the spirit! And some of those old teddies. We’ll make a start on your room tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be at Dad’s.’

‘Well, I’ll do it for you. Now, you’d better get dressed up for our meal out. You can wear your new birthday clothes if you like. You get in the bathroom while I change Tiger.’

‘He’s not coming too, is he?’ I said.

Mum looked at me. ‘What do you think we’re going to do with him, Floss? Leave him here and tell him to heat up his own milk and tuck himself up in bed?’

‘Oh ha ha, Mum. Why can’t he have a babysitter like when you and Steve go out?’

‘Because this is a family outing, silly. Now go and get shifted, Birthday Girl.’

I thought about Mum’s words as I wriggled out of my school uniform and put on my new jeans and T-shirt. I couldn’t ever have a real family outing any more. It was all so easy-peasy when we were just our family, Mum and Dad and me. But now when I went out with Dad, Mum was missing – and when I went out with Mum, Dad was missing and I was stuck with Steve and Tiger instead.

I stared out of my bedroom window down into the garden. Steve had landscaped it himself and made all these pretty flowerbeds and a pergola and a pond with goldfish, but now Tiger was old enough to climb out of his pram it was more like his own personal adventure park. OK, I had my lovely swing in one corner, but Tiger had his own small swing and his slide and his pedal car and his sandpit and his baby bouncer and his toddler gym climbing frame.

It was more like Tiger’s birthday celebration than mine at TGI Friday’s. He sat in lordly fashion in his highchair, giggling and kicking his legs whenever any of the waitresses went by. They all ruffled his silly sticking-up hair and tickled him under his chin, cooing and clucking. No one told him off when he ate his chips with his fingers or spilled his drink.

Mum ordered a special birthday pudding for me with sparklers. Tiger screamed and squirmed so desperately to see them that they held them in front of him for ages. The sparklers had stopped sparkling by the time they put the plate on the table. I felt as if all my sparkles had gone out too.

I knew I shouldn’t be jealous of my little baby brother. He didn’t commandeer all the attention deliberately. It was very annoying all the same.

That was what was so great about my weekends with Dad. It was just Dad and me. He treated me like his very special little princess.

 

3

MY SECOND BIRTHDAY was on Saturday.

I went to my dad’s. Mum always took me. She usually stayed a little while and had a cup of coffee in the café. Dad often put a whole plate of cakes in front of her – jam doughnuts, apple turnovers, apricot Danish pastries, all her old favourites.

Dad