The Jacqueline Wilson Christmas Cracker Read online

  I shut my eyes tight. ‘Please, if there really is a Spirit of Christmas Past, a Spirit of Christmas Present and a Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come, help me now, and then I’ll out-do Tiny Tim with my “God bless you”s,’ I said inside my head.

  I sensed someone standing beside me. I opened my eyes, hoping desperately that it might be Mum, with her lovely long golden curls, her big blue eyes, her glossy pink lips all ready to kiss me . . .

  but I was staring at this small scruffy woman with short sticking-up hair.

  ‘Oh, it’s only you, Cam,’ I said wearily.

  ‘Happy Christmas to you too, Tracy,’ said Cam, laughing.

  ‘What are you doing here? The play’s not for hours yet.’

  ‘I know. I’ve come to help your Miss Simpkins do your make-up.’

  ‘But you don’t know anything about it! You never wear make-up.’

  ‘I’m great at stage make-up, you wait and see.’

  She sat down cross-legged beside me. She was wearing her usual jeans and jersey – but they were her newest not-frayed-at-the-hems jeans and she was wearing her best jumper with the knitted cats.

  She thrust a big box of chocolates at me.

  ‘Here. Have a nibble, then pass them round to all your pals.’

  ‘Oh, Cam. Did you buy them specially for me?’

  ‘Well, not exactly,’ said Cam. ‘They were going to be for my mum, when I went home for Christmas. Only I’m not actually going home as it turns out, so I thought we could have them now.’

  ‘Well, it’s very kind of you but I’m not a bit hungry. I feel kind of sick. Maybe I’m going to throw up on stage. If I do I hope it’s when Justine’s doing her Marley’s Ghost bit,’ I said.

  I opened the box of chocolates all the same, simply out of curiosity. They were extra-special wonderful chocs, all sleek and shiny, some wrapped in pink and silver and gold paper, others dotted with cherries and nuts and little crystallized roses.

  ‘Oh, yum,’ I said automatically. My fingers reached out for the biggest cherry chocolate of their own accord. I gave it one little lick and then popped it in my mouth quick.

  I chewed, and the most beautiful cherry chocolate taste oozed all over my tongue and round my teeth.

  ‘Mmm!’ I said. My hand reached out again.

  ‘I wouldn’t have too many if you’re feeling sick,’ said Cam.

  ‘Do you know something weird? I’m starting to feel just a tiny bit better. Hey, these are seriously scrumptious chocolates. Do I really have to hand them round? I’ll have just one more, OK? Your mum’s really missing out big-time. Why aren’t you going to see her at Christmas then?’

  ‘Oh. We had a row. We always have rows. I phoned her to ask if I could bring someone with me.’

  ‘Who? Not a boyfriend!’

  ‘I’ve told you, Tracy, I haven’t got a boyfriend. This was someone else, but anyway, she didn’t like that idea, and then she went on about this party she’s giving, and saying stuff like will I please have my hair done and could I wear a decent skirt and proper heels.’ Cam sighed. ‘She’s impossible.’

  ‘No, she’s not. You’d look heaps better with your hair done all fancy and a nice tight skirt, and why on earth don’t you wear heels? My mum always does.’

  I shouldn’t have said the word mum. My tummy went tight all over again. I was on my fourth chocolate by this time. It didn’t seem such a great idea.

  Cam held my hand. ‘Your mum’s obviously a glamorous girly mum. I’m more your casual woman. Though my mum would say there’s casual and there’s downright ragbag.’

  ‘Oh, Cam, do you think my mum will come to see me act Scrooge?’

  Cam gripped my hand tightly. ‘I’m sure she wants to come, badly. It’s just . . . she could be tied up somewhere.’

  ‘I’m going to let her down if she does come.’ I crept closer to Cam. I hissed in her ear so none of the other kids could hear. ‘I was totally rubbish at the rehearsal at lunch time. I couldn’t remember a single word.’

  ‘That’s great, Tracy,’ said Cam brightly.

  ‘That’s great?’ I said. ‘Oh thanks, Cam! I thought you were supposed to be my friend? It’s great that Tracy Beaker is going to publicly humiliate herself in front of the whole school, all the parents, everyone from the Dumping Ground and her own mother?’

  ‘I am your friend and I’m talking sense. Everyone knows that it’s bad luck to have a dress rehearsal that goes really well. The worse it is, the better the actual performance.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘No, no, it’s common knowledge in the acting profession. I’m surprised your mum hasn’t told you. So you’ll be great tonight, Tracy, you’ll see.’

  ‘But I can’t remember a single line! What am I meant to do? Mime it all?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’d mime very expressively, but I don’t think that will be necessary. The moment you get on stage I’m sure you’ll be word perfect again. The lines are all in there, Tracy.’ She swung our clasped hands upwards and gently tapped my head. ‘You just need to press the right button and they’ll come bursting out as easily as anything, believe me.’

  I looked at her. I didn’t believe her – but I was touched that she was trying so hard to convince me. I looked at Cam’s best outfit. I looked at her earnest face and her funny scrubbing-brush haircut. I suddenly gave her a big hug right there in front of everyone.

  Some skinny little kid playing Ignorance in the play piped up, ‘Is that your mum, Tracy?’

  ‘She’s not my real mum,’ I said. ‘But she’s kind of like a mum to me.’

  Cam gave me a big hug back. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Tracy,’ she said.

  ‘It’s all this Christmas Peace and Goodwill stuff. It’s getting to me,’ I said.

  I passed all the chocolates round. I even offered one to Justine, which was a waste of time.

  ‘You’ve probably gobbed all over them, Tracy Beaker,’ she said.

  Mrs Darlow came trit-trotting out of her office, in through the swing doors and over my beautifully shiny floor to wish us all luck.

  Miss Simpkins came scurrying to my side, looking tense. I smiled at her reassuringly and offered Mrs Darlow a chocolate.

  ‘Good luck, Tracy Beaker,’ she said, popping a nut cluster in her mouth.

  ‘Mind how you go in those little heels, Mrs Darlow. We don’t want you slipping on the highly polished floor,’ I said politely.

  ‘Ah, yes. You’ve worked hard, Tracy. It’s a little patchy here and there, but on the whole you’ve done a splendid job. Nothing beats a bit of elbow grease. I’m almost tempted to do away with the electric polisher and employ you on a permanent basis.’

  ‘You have an electric polisher?’ I said faintly. ‘Yet you let me polish the entire floor by hand?’

  ‘Tracy!’ Cam hissed.

  I took a deep breath. ‘So the hall floor could have been polished in a matter of minutes, Mrs Darlow?’

  ‘But that wouldn’t have been such an excellent . . . what was the phrase? A channel for your aggression!’ said Mrs Darlow, smiling at me. Triumphantly.

  I looked at her. She looked at me. Cam was on one side of me, Miss Simpkins on the other. I knew both were holding their breath.

  I suddenly burst out laughing. ‘Nice one, Mrs Darlow,’ I said. ‘You win.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Darlow. ‘So you win tonight, Tracy Beaker. Act your little socks off.’

  She zigzagged her way through the picnicking cast as if she was performing a complicated country dance and went out of the hall.

  Cam and Miss Simpkins blew out their cheeks and sighed ‘Pheeeeeew’ simultaneously.

  ‘You both thought I was going to blow it, didn’t you?’ I said.

  ‘Well, the thought did just cross my mind,’ said Miss Simpkins.

  ‘It crossed and recrossed and danced up and down in my mind,’ said Cam. She scrabbled in the chocolate box, found another great big cherry cream and popped it in