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  ‘Well, dear, he is still your husband.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not with him now, am I? You do what you want, Avril. Go for it, girl!’

  Maybe Mum and Dad would get a divorce now and then Mum would be free to marry Mike if she wanted. I wanted it more than anything. I knew Mike would be the most magical stepdad in the whole world.

  Mum’s cookie stall made a positive fortune for the whole school. Mike made his special fish pie for supper and we opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Mum let me have half a glass. It was lovely, though the bubbles went right up my nose and tickled. Mum had much more than half a glass and went to bed quite giggly.

  ‘You are funny when you’re drunk, Mum,’ I said, giving her a hug.

  ‘I’m not drunk! I’ve only had two glasses of champagne, silly,’ said Mum. ‘Well, maybe it was three. Anyway, I’m just happy, OK?’

  ‘Are you really happy, Mum?’

  ‘Yes. Well, sometimes I still wonder if I’m crazy, if we’ve done the right thing. I worry about what’s right for you.’

  ‘I think we’ve done exactly the right thing.’

  ‘Well, we’ve certainly been so lucky, coming here, finding Mike—’

  ‘Yes, Mike. I do like Mike, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, so do I. He’s been so kind, and he’s such fun to be with. And he never ever seems to get cross,’ said Mum.

  ‘He likes you too, ever so. So what would you do if – if he wanted to – to be your boyfriend?’

  ‘Goodness! Well, Mike’s lovely, I know, and I’m very fond of him, but . . .’

  ‘I know he’s quite old, Mum, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?’

  ‘No, no. I mean, I fell for your dad, didn’t I?’

  ‘And Mike isn’t terribly good looking, though I like the way he looks.’

  ‘I like the way he looks too.’

  ‘So, do you think you’ll get together, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Beauty,’ Mum said gently.

  ‘It’s not because he hasn’t got much money, is it?’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh, Beauty!’ Mum sounded shocked. ‘As if that matters! I like it that Mike isn’t rich and doesn’t give a hoot about money. He’s become a very special friend. If you must know, he did sort of hint that he’d love to be more than just good friends, but he was very understanding when I explained why I wanted things to stay just the way they are.’

  ‘But why, Mum?’ I asked, exasperated.

  ‘Because I want to be on my own for a bit. No man in my life. Independent. I got together with your dad when I was fresh out of school. I’ve never learned how to stand on my own two feet. I want to prove I can cope. It’s still a bit scary but it’s exciting making decisions for myself. I always thought I was absolutely thick but now I seem to be doing OK. Do you understand, darling?’

  ‘Well. Sort of,’ I said. ‘But I hope you might change your mind later on!’

  ‘I know one thing,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not really on my own. I’ve got you, babes. I couldn’t manage without you. We’re a team, you and me, Beauty.’

  Mum and I were a real team when it came to cookie baking. Suddenly our bunny cookies were absolutely in demand. We spent Saturdays and Sundays up to our elbows in cookie dough in an attempt to please all our customers. Mum had been supplying cookies for all the guest houses on Primrose Terrace for weeks, but now the big White Hotel wanted their own batch to offer to guests for afternoon tea, and Peggy’s Parlour wanted a big jar of assorted iced cookies every single day. We’d had enquiries from several Seahaven hotels and teashops – and we were asked to provide a hundred bags of bunny cookies for the big Seahaven Carnival in July.

  I designed a special bunny label to stick on each bag: a white rabbit on a bright green background. Mum and I set up a big cookie stall at the carnival, and dressed up in our white lacy aprons. The local television news came and filmed us. I didn’t even know they were doing it. I was just busy selling cookies and then this guy jumped in front of me and told me to eat a bunny cookie and go ‘yum yum’ so I did – and then I saw the camera pointing in my direction! I just about died – but it was all over before I could object. My heart started thudding like crazy in case I looked stupid when Mum and Mike and I switched on the local news that evening, but to my great relief I was only on for two seconds! They said I made the cookies all by myself, which made me fuss, but Mum just laughed.

  The next morning Mike came charging into the kitchen, eyes popping.

  ‘There’s a phone call for our little television star. It’s Watchbox, that kids’ programme on Saturday mornings. They want to have you on their show,’ he said.

  ‘What? Oh, Mike, you are a tease,’ I said, shaking my head at him.

  ‘Stop kidding, Mike, you’re very bad,’ said Mum.

  ‘I-am-NOT-kidding! Come to the phone, Beauty. Dilly, they need to talk to you too. I promise I’m not joking.’

  I went to the phone, Mum following me.

  ‘Hello? It’s Beauty speaking,’ I said uncertainly, still not quite believing Mike.

  ‘Hello, Beauty. My name’s Jules Latimer. I’m a researcher on Watchbox. Do you know our show? I’ve been watching various news items and I saw your little spot on the piece about the Seahaven Carnival. So you make all these wonderful cookies?’

  ‘Well, my mum makes most of them. I just help out when we’re really busy,’ I said.

  ‘And did you design the bunny logo?’

  ‘The logo? Oh, the picture on the bags. Yes, I did that.’

  ‘Well, we’d love to have you on our programme. You could maybe show our presenters Simon and Miranda how you make the cookies? Would you like to do that?’

  Would I like to go on television? Oh goodness, it might be so scary. I’d have thousands and thousands of children watching me, Ugly Beauty. They’d all laugh and snigger at their television sets, saying horrible things about me . . .

  ‘No thank you very much,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ said Mum beside me. ‘Don’t be daft, Beauty! Of course you want to go on Watchbox!’ She snatched the phone away from me. ‘Hello, I’m Dilys Cookson, Beauty’s mum. I think she’s a little bit overwhelmed. I’m sure she’d love to go on Watchbox – it’s her second favourite television show.’

  I heard the researcher laughing and asking something.

  ‘Oh, her favourite has to be Rabbit Hutch. She’s absolutely nuts on Sam and Lily,’ said Mum.

  ‘Shut up, Mum! They’ll think I’m a terrible baby!’ I hissed.

  Mum wouldn’t shut up.

  ‘That’s why she painted that lovely white rabbit for our bunny cookies. It’s because she loves Lily,’ she said.

  She listened to the researcher for a while and then laughed. ‘Yes, yes! OK, what day do you record the programme? Tomorrow!’

  ‘No, Mum, I’m not going to,’ I said, struggling to get the phone off her – but she held it out of my reach.

  ‘Can you give me the full address? That’s London, right? I’m afraid I don’t know London very well. Will I be able to park at the studio or should we get the train? You’ll send a special car for us? What, all the way to Rabbit Cove? Oh wonderful. It’s Lily Cottage, nineteen Primrose Terrace. At nine o’clock? We’ll be ready and waiting.’

  Mum rang off and then gave me a huge hug. I stayed stony still, not responding.

  ‘You can be ready and waiting. I’m not going,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, Beauty, don’t be so silly!’

  ‘I don’t want to look silly on television.’

  ‘But you won’t. You were fine on the local news, completely natural.’

  ‘Yes, because I didn’t know what they were doing. But I’m not going on Watchbox. I’d hate it.’

  ‘You’ll love it, especially when you know what they’ve got lined up for you. I’d give anything to tell you but they want it to be a total surprise,’ said Mum.

  ‘I know what they want me to do: show Simon and Miranda how to make cookies. Simon is this big fat jol