Amelia shouted back cheerfully. ‘I’ve got enough happy helpers.’
Seriously, grrrr.
I felt a bit ashamed of myself for losing my cool and taking it out on Amelia, and not being able to help pick the chocolate up again, so I concentrated on spotting as many buttons as I could and pointing them out to the others. We were just about finished when June stood up.
‘Oh my knees can’t stand up to this any more,’ she said, stretching.
Wilf followed, pulling himself up using the bench.
‘That floor’s hard, man,’ he said.
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but as Wilf stood up, the bowl on Amelia’s bench – the bowl that was full of sticky, oozy, brown caramel – fell.
It toppled from the top of the work surface and up-ended itself on top of Amelia’s head. Remember the end of
Carrie
? Well it was like that, except instead of pig’s blood it was caramel. But it was just as horrific – possibly even more.
‘OH MY GOD,’ wailed Amelia. ‘Get it off me!’
We all stared at her, shocked into silence. Behind me, Harry let go of her beach hut, her mouth open in surprise and, to our left, Peter and Lizzie both stood still, gawping at poor Amelia.
‘GET. IT. OFF!’ Amelia screeched.
June darted forward and pulled the bowl from Amelia’s head with a squelch.
‘Should’ve left it on,’ muttered Wilf to me. He had a point, actually. It looked much worse now the bowl was gone. The caramel dripped down Amelia’s hair, off the end of her nose, and pooled on her shoulders.
There was a beat while we all gazed at her, wondering what we should do next. Then Peter, the git, laughed.
‘This is a sticky situation,’ he chuckled.
We all glared at him and, as though Peter had woken us all up, Lizzie sprung into action.
‘Don’t panic,’ she said, soothingly, putting her arm round Amelia. ‘We’ll have this sorted out in no time. Can you open your eyes? No? Okay, let’s see what we can do.’
She led Amelia over to her stool and sat her down, then she wet a tea towel in the sink and gently wiped Amelia’s face with it.
Amelia blinked and opened her eyes, but seeing our horrified faces made her wail again.
‘It’s getting hard,’ she squealed. ‘The caramel is setting.’
She touched her hair.
‘It’s all over me,’ she said in disgust. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked at us all.
‘Someone did this,’ she said. ‘Someone pushed that bowl on to my head.’
Lizzie put one hand on her shoulder and looked round in vain for a runner – somehow they’d all disappeared just when we needed them most.
‘Wilf,’ she said briskly. ‘Go and find Mercedes.’
‘Portia,’ Wilf said.
‘Portia,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘June, find Amelia’s mum.’
Wilf and June disappeared out of the tent.
‘Don’t upset yourself,’ Lizzie said to Amelia, who was still looking fierce. ‘This is just an unfortunate accident. Maybe we should go to the make-up area – I know there are no sinks, but perhaps we can comb through your hair…’
‘Oh no. I’ve got a better idea – I’ll phone Millicent,’ said Harry, taking her phone out of her apron pocket. ‘We can take you to the B&B, Amelia. You can have a bath and wash your hair.’
‘Oh yes, that is better,’ said Lizzie, though I thought she sounded a little bit disappointed. ‘Let’s get going.’
She glanced at Peter who was still smirking.
‘You stay here,’ she said in disdain. ‘You’re no use to anyone.’
I hid a grin as we bundled Amelia out of the tent. Peter was proving to be quite a nasty piece of work, but Lizzie obviously knew how to handle him.
Eleven
Millicent was, as always, magnificent in a crisis. She took one look at poor Amelia, whose caramel had now set, giving her a shiny brown hairpiece and pushed her towards one of the B&B’s sumptuous bathrooms.
‘In there,’ she said. ‘There’s a robe and fresh towels, and I’ve run a bath for you. You’re going to need to soak it off, I think.’
Amelia’s mum
Seriously, grrrr.
I felt a bit ashamed of myself for losing my cool and taking it out on Amelia, and not being able to help pick the chocolate up again, so I concentrated on spotting as many buttons as I could and pointing them out to the others. We were just about finished when June stood up.
‘Oh my knees can’t stand up to this any more,’ she said, stretching.
Wilf followed, pulling himself up using the bench.
‘That floor’s hard, man,’ he said.
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but as Wilf stood up, the bowl on Amelia’s bench – the bowl that was full of sticky, oozy, brown caramel – fell.
It toppled from the top of the work surface and up-ended itself on top of Amelia’s head. Remember the end of
Carrie
? Well it was like that, except instead of pig’s blood it was caramel. But it was just as horrific – possibly even more.
‘OH MY GOD,’ wailed Amelia. ‘Get it off me!’
We all stared at her, shocked into silence. Behind me, Harry let go of her beach hut, her mouth open in surprise and, to our left, Peter and Lizzie both stood still, gawping at poor Amelia.
‘GET. IT. OFF!’ Amelia screeched.
June darted forward and pulled the bowl from Amelia’s head with a squelch.
‘Should’ve left it on,’ muttered Wilf to me. He had a point, actually. It looked much worse now the bowl was gone. The caramel dripped down Amelia’s hair, off the end of her nose, and pooled on her shoulders.
There was a beat while we all gazed at her, wondering what we should do next. Then Peter, the git, laughed.
‘This is a sticky situation,’ he chuckled.
We all glared at him and, as though Peter had woken us all up, Lizzie sprung into action.
‘Don’t panic,’ she said, soothingly, putting her arm round Amelia. ‘We’ll have this sorted out in no time. Can you open your eyes? No? Okay, let’s see what we can do.’
She led Amelia over to her stool and sat her down, then she wet a tea towel in the sink and gently wiped Amelia’s face with it.
Amelia blinked and opened her eyes, but seeing our horrified faces made her wail again.
‘It’s getting hard,’ she squealed. ‘The caramel is setting.’
She touched her hair.
‘It’s all over me,’ she said in disgust. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked at us all.
‘Someone did this,’ she said. ‘Someone pushed that bowl on to my head.’
Lizzie put one hand on her shoulder and looked round in vain for a runner – somehow they’d all disappeared just when we needed them most.
‘Wilf,’ she said briskly. ‘Go and find Mercedes.’
‘Portia,’ Wilf said.
‘Portia,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘June, find Amelia’s mum.’
Wilf and June disappeared out of the tent.
‘Don’t upset yourself,’ Lizzie said to Amelia, who was still looking fierce. ‘This is just an unfortunate accident. Maybe we should go to the make-up area – I know there are no sinks, but perhaps we can comb through your hair…’
‘Oh no. I’ve got a better idea – I’ll phone Millicent,’ said Harry, taking her phone out of her apron pocket. ‘We can take you to the B&B, Amelia. You can have a bath and wash your hair.’
‘Oh yes, that is better,’ said Lizzie, though I thought she sounded a little bit disappointed. ‘Let’s get going.’
She glanced at Peter who was still smirking.
‘You stay here,’ she said in disdain. ‘You’re no use to anyone.’
I hid a grin as we bundled Amelia out of the tent. Peter was proving to be quite a nasty piece of work, but Lizzie obviously knew how to handle him.
Eleven
Millicent was, as always, magnificent in a crisis. She took one look at poor Amelia, whose caramel had now set, giving her a shiny brown hairpiece and pushed her towards one of the B&B’s sumptuous bathrooms.
‘In there,’ she said. ‘There’s a robe and fresh towels, and I’ve run a bath for you. You’re going to need to soak it off, I think.’
Amelia’s mum
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