Hagrid ate it.”
“You can have this one after Isabella’s gone home,”Mum says. “Now help me put it on, would you?”
“She’s got a new duvet too?” I howl indignantly, as Mum removes another plastic wrapper.
“Shhh!” Mum scowls and glances over at Isabella, but she’s not listening, she’s far too engrossed in checking her phone. “Hagrid ate the spare too and I couldn’t put her in half-chewed bedding, could I?”
“You’ve put me in half-chewed bedding,” I point out.
“You know full well that’s different,” Mum says. “Right, Isabella, here we go. You’re all set.”
“Thanks,” Isabella says. She catches sight of my massive suitcase on the bed and raises an eyebrow. Mum sees what she’s looking at and makes a cross noise. “Suzy, that’s not the case I left for you. That’s the one for me, your father and Harry to share.”
“I couldn’t fit everything I needed into that other one,” I protest.
“Then you’re taking too much,” Mum says. “Isabella, can you help her? You didn’t bring much. Teach Suzy the value of a capsule wardrobe.”
As Mum leaves, I turn to Isabella, to see what words of wisdom she’ll share about packing, but she’s lying down on the bed, iPod out and headphones in, texting.
CHAPTER SIX
When I wake up the next morning, my throat is dry and there’s a revolting taste in my mouth. I push myself up from the pillows onto my elbows, and stare down at the floor. Isabella’s lying there, wide awake and sending a text message. Annoyingly, she looks as perfect as she did when she arrived, hair flowing over the pillowcase like Sleeping Beauty and her face flawless.
Whereas I’m guaranteed to have crazy bed head and mascara streaked halfway down my cheeks.
“Morning,” I say, with a cheery smile. “Sleep okay?”
“Not really. You were snoring,” Isabella says.
That explains the grim taste in my mouth, then. I probably slept with it gaping open all night.
“Sorry. Who are you texting?” I ask.
“Uh, just a friend,” Isabella replies.
Oh. Clearly she’s not up for sharing much personal info just yet. Never mind. We’ll get to know each othera bit better soon enough. Today she’s off with Mum, who’s taking her round Collinsbrooke to show her the sights.
Which will take about five minutes, because all there is to see is the local church, a clock tower and a covered market street.
Mum wanted me to go with them, but I pointed out it was my last day with my boyfriend until we got back from holiday, so I was let off. There was a dodgy moment where it looked like Mum was going to send Isabella to join us, but the need to do something cultural and worthy with our visitor won out.
“Do you want breakfast or something?” I ask.
“I think I’ll go and have a shower,” Isabella says.
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’m starving. I need to eat.”
The rest of my family are already in the kitchen, Amber eating her usual mountain of food, while Crystal Fairybelle sits under the table. Every now and then, Amber slips pieces of sausage or bacon under the chair.
“That dog will get fat,” Dad warns.
“Don’t say that,” Amber screeches, scooping the dog onto her lap and covering his ears. “You’ll give him a complex.”
“We don’t talk about weight issues in front of the dog,” Mark says solemnly.
“Morning,” Mum says, spotting me in the doorway as the phone starts ringing.
“Want me to get that?” I say.
“No, I’ll go. It might be the campsite.”
At the mention of the word campsite, Mark’s face crumples. “I can’t believe you’re going away,” he says.
“And I can’t believe you’re not coming,” Amber wails, also starting to cry.
After days and days of painful deliberation, Mark’s decided he’s not coming with us, as he needs to save his holiday time for after the babies arrive. But Amber needs a break, and Mum wants to keep an eye on her, so they’ve agreed to be separated.
From the fuss the
“You can have this one after Isabella’s gone home,”Mum says. “Now help me put it on, would you?”
“She’s got a new duvet too?” I howl indignantly, as Mum removes another plastic wrapper.
“Shhh!” Mum scowls and glances over at Isabella, but she’s not listening, she’s far too engrossed in checking her phone. “Hagrid ate the spare too and I couldn’t put her in half-chewed bedding, could I?”
“You’ve put me in half-chewed bedding,” I point out.
“You know full well that’s different,” Mum says. “Right, Isabella, here we go. You’re all set.”
“Thanks,” Isabella says. She catches sight of my massive suitcase on the bed and raises an eyebrow. Mum sees what she’s looking at and makes a cross noise. “Suzy, that’s not the case I left for you. That’s the one for me, your father and Harry to share.”
“I couldn’t fit everything I needed into that other one,” I protest.
“Then you’re taking too much,” Mum says. “Isabella, can you help her? You didn’t bring much. Teach Suzy the value of a capsule wardrobe.”
As Mum leaves, I turn to Isabella, to see what words of wisdom she’ll share about packing, but she’s lying down on the bed, iPod out and headphones in, texting.
CHAPTER SIX
When I wake up the next morning, my throat is dry and there’s a revolting taste in my mouth. I push myself up from the pillows onto my elbows, and stare down at the floor. Isabella’s lying there, wide awake and sending a text message. Annoyingly, she looks as perfect as she did when she arrived, hair flowing over the pillowcase like Sleeping Beauty and her face flawless.
Whereas I’m guaranteed to have crazy bed head and mascara streaked halfway down my cheeks.
“Morning,” I say, with a cheery smile. “Sleep okay?”
“Not really. You were snoring,” Isabella says.
That explains the grim taste in my mouth, then. I probably slept with it gaping open all night.
“Sorry. Who are you texting?” I ask.
“Uh, just a friend,” Isabella replies.
Oh. Clearly she’s not up for sharing much personal info just yet. Never mind. We’ll get to know each othera bit better soon enough. Today she’s off with Mum, who’s taking her round Collinsbrooke to show her the sights.
Which will take about five minutes, because all there is to see is the local church, a clock tower and a covered market street.
Mum wanted me to go with them, but I pointed out it was my last day with my boyfriend until we got back from holiday, so I was let off. There was a dodgy moment where it looked like Mum was going to send Isabella to join us, but the need to do something cultural and worthy with our visitor won out.
“Do you want breakfast or something?” I ask.
“I think I’ll go and have a shower,” Isabella says.
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’m starving. I need to eat.”
The rest of my family are already in the kitchen, Amber eating her usual mountain of food, while Crystal Fairybelle sits under the table. Every now and then, Amber slips pieces of sausage or bacon under the chair.
“That dog will get fat,” Dad warns.
“Don’t say that,” Amber screeches, scooping the dog onto her lap and covering his ears. “You’ll give him a complex.”
“We don’t talk about weight issues in front of the dog,” Mark says solemnly.
“Morning,” Mum says, spotting me in the doorway as the phone starts ringing.
“Want me to get that?” I say.
“No, I’ll go. It might be the campsite.”
At the mention of the word campsite, Mark’s face crumples. “I can’t believe you’re going away,” he says.
“And I can’t believe you’re not coming,” Amber wails, also starting to cry.
After days and days of painful deliberation, Mark’s decided he’s not coming with us, as he needs to save his holiday time for after the babies arrive. But Amber needs a break, and Mum wants to keep an eye on her, so they’ve agreed to be separated.
From the fuss the
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