The Mum-Minder Read online

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  'We'll have to go to your office/ I said. 'We'll fit into a corner, like you said. And we can crayon and I can make them all the paperclip necklaces and it'll be like a playland.'

  'Playland! I want to go to playland!'

  said Gemma.

  'Playland, playland,' said Vincent.

  'Play!' said Sara.

  'Pa-pa-pa,' said Clive.

  'I wish I'd kept my big mouth shut,'

  said Vincent's dad.

  He wouldn't attempt to take us to his office on the tube. He bundled us into a taxi.

  'Are you a new kind of nanny,

  Gov?' said the taxi driver.

  'Certainly not,' said Vincent's dad, struggling to keep control of his son while our Sara tore his newspaper into shreds and baby Clive yelled because he didn't know where he was going.

  Gemma and I sat up straight and looked out of the windows, as good as gold.

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  'Is Playland nice, Sadie?' Gemma asked.

  'I hope so,' I said.

  Vincent's dad worked in a great glass building. His office was right at t h e top so we had to go up in a big lift.

  It went fast and we all held our tummies and sucked in air through o u r t e e t h . E v e n Clive stopped squawking and hissed in astonish-ment, not sure whether he liked this new sensation or not.

  Vincent's dad worked in a great big room with huge windows.

  'They don't open easily, do they?' I said. I am very responsible about child safety. Vincent's dad didn't seem to appreciate this at all.

  'If they did open then I think I'd throw myself out,' he said. 'Look at them!'

  Gemma and Vincent and Sara and

  Clive had instantly made themselves at home. They'd t a k e n Vincent's dad at his word. It really was Playland.

  G e m m a h a d recognized t h e 60

  computer on the desk and was stab-bing happily and haphazardly at the buttons.

  Vincent had found a fat felt-tip pen and was decorating a pile of official papers with yellow scribble.

  Sara had overturned a big pot

  plant and was making a mud pie on the carpet.

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  Clive was lying on his back

  exercising his lungs, as he was still too little to play properly.

  Vincent's dad groaned and called feebly for his secretary.

  'I am prepared to pay you a double wage today, Karen, so long as you take these dreadful children off my hands,' he said weakly.

  Karen giggled. 'Ah yes. Your wife's just sent a fax to see if the children are all right.'

  'The children are fine, as you can see. I'm the one who is suffering. I'd like a black coffee and two aspirin, please.'

  I helped Karen round everyone up.

  She took us to the typing pool.

  Gemma got disappointed because she thought she'd be able to paddle in this new pool, but she soon perked up when she saw all the word processors.

  She climbed on and off the typists'

  laps, playing with these lovely new machines.

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  All the typists made a great fuss of Vincent too. He ordered them about just like his dad. They sat him up on a desk with a pen and a memo pad and called him Sir.

  They found a special job for Sara.

  The office paper-shredder was on the blink so they sat Sara down with all the unwanted paper and Sara tore and tore and tore it all into shreds.

  You could soon barely spot her under a great mound of scrumpled paper.

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  I palled up with the tealady and went all round the huge building with her, giving out all the cups of tea from her trolley. I could eat as many buns and biscuits as I wanted. I took Clive with me and whenever he got restless I just zapped him into a lift and took him for a quick trip up to the top and back.

  When we'd finished the tea-round, the tealady took Clive over for a bit and I lay on top of the emptied tea-trolley, kicked off with my feet and went whizzing along the corridor. It 64

  was better t h a n t h e biggest skate-board. I nearly ran over Vincent's dad when he stepped out of his office but he managed to leap out of the w a y j u s t i n t i m e .

  He had a right cheek. Vincent's mum turned up at lunchtime, saying she'd got all her work done so she'd t a k e us over for t h e afternoon.

  Vincent's dad acted as if he'd looked after us single-handed, and Vincent's mum said she was sorry and she

  thought he was splendid and when my m u m was well enough to babysit she'd take him out for a slap-up meal to say t h a n k you.

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  Vincent's mum took Vincent and

  Gemma and Clive and our Sara and me to a McDonald's for our lunch, which was great, and then she took us to a proper playground. Vincent's mum sat on a bench and did some of her paperwork while I pushed everyone on the swings and then we all sat in the sandpit and made sandcastles.

  Whenever anyone started crying, Vincent's mum bought ice-creams from a nearby van. We ended up

  having three or maybe it was four ice-creams, even Clive.

  Clive wasn't the only one who was sick on the train going home.

  66

  Mum's a bit better. She was worried when she heard about the argy-bargy between Vincent's mum and Vincent's dad.

  'I think I'd better get back to looking after all the children today,' Mum said, and she got up for breakfast.

  'Oh Mum, don't be silly. You still seem very fluey to me,' I said.

  'I certainly look a bit fluey,' said Mum, running her fingers through her straggly hair and rubbing her poor red nose. 'But I still think it's time I took over. It sounds as if you're all running wild.'

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  'Grrr,' I said, baring my teeth and making my hands into claws.

  'Grrr,' Sara copied, biting her breakfast banana very savagely.

  'Anyway, Mum, you can't take over today. We'll miss out on all the fun,' I said tactlessly. 'I can't wait to go to Clive's mum's chocolate shop. Yum yum yum.'

  'Yum yum,' said Sara, slobbering.

  'Yes, t h a t ' s what I'm worried about,' said Mum. 'Sara was sick yesterday. I don't want her eating lots of chocolate today and getting sick again.'

  'It's OK, Mum. I'll look after her.

  I'm the mum-minder now and I'm

  supposed to be looking after you. So you go back to bed. You look all white and wobbly.'

  'I do feel a bit shaky. All right then, Sadie.'

  'That's a good mum,' I said. 'Back to bed. I'll come and tuck you up in a minute.'

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  We both giggled because every-

  thing was back to front and it

  sounded so funny, me telling Mum what to do. I don't want Mum to stay ill, but I wish I could always boss her around!

  Clive's mum could do with being a bit bossier. She's little, not all that much bigger than me, and I bet I weigh more. I know if I worked in a chocolate shop I'd grow very big indeed. It's such a wonderful shop.

  J u s t the rich, creamy, chocolaty smell makes your mouth start water-ing. Clive's mum showed us all round the big glass cabinets piled high with hazelnut truffles and white whirly creams, strawberry marzipans and violet fondants, sugar mice and chocolate teddies.

  'Can I have a chocolate teddy?'

  Gemma asked, reaching out.

  'Chocolate ted!' Vincent demanded, grabbing.

  'Choc choc!' said Sara, scrabbling.

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  'No, wait a minute! You mustn't touch, dears. Gemma, put it down, darling. Vincent, no! And look at Sara, she's dribbling all over the dis-play,' said Clive's mum, dashing from one to the other.

  Clive decided he wanted his mum's attention for himself.

  'Oh dear. I don't know why he's crying, he's only just had his bottle,'

  said Clive's mum. 'Look, Gemma

  dear, I don't really think your mummy would like you to have

  another chocolate teddy. Vincent, don't touch those chocolate boxes! Oh 70

  dear, Sara. No, p