Jacqueline Wilson's Happy Holidays Read online

  ‘Shame you haven’t got any brothers, Tim,’ said Dad. ‘It won’t be such fun for you.’

  ‘We can have fun together,’ said Mum. ‘What are the shops like at Llanpistyll?’

  ‘Shops?’ said Dad. ‘I think there’s one.’

  ‘One?’ said Mum. ‘What sort of shop?’

  ‘I don’t know. A general store, I suppose,’ said Dad impatiently. ‘You don’t go to Llanpistyll to go shopping.’

  ‘Obviously not,’ said Mum. She sighed. ‘I like shopping.’

  ‘So do I,’ I said.

  Dad sighed too. Even more impatiently. ‘Boys don’t like shopping,’ he said. ‘I worry about you sometimes, Tim.’

  I worry about my dad sometimes too. He doesn’t half go on. And on and on.

  ‘We have a lovely time when we go shopping at the Flowerfields centre on Saturdays, don’t we, Tim?’ said Mum.

  ‘Tim should be having fun with his friends, not hanging round his mum,’ said Dad. Then he stopped and snapped his fingers. ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea!’

  I twitched. I don’t always like my dad’s ideas. Particularly when he thinks they’re brilliant. But this time I thought it a Truly Dazzling idea.

  ‘Let’s invite one of Tim’s friends to come to Llanpistyll too,’ said Dad.

  ‘Oh yes!!!’ I said.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Mum. ‘I’m not at all sure about looking after someone else’s child. And some of those boys in Tim’s class at school are a pretty wild bunch.’

  ‘I don’t want to invite anyone from school,’ I said. ‘I want to invite Biscuits!’

  ‘That boy you met on the adventure holiday?’ said Mum.

  ‘The boy who was always eating?’ said Dad.

  ‘He seemed quite a nice well-behaved sort of boy,’ said Mum. ‘Better than that Kelly!’

  I met this girl Kelly on the adventure holiday too. She’s my girlfriend now. I didn’t really choose her. She chose me. She keeps writing to me. She puts all these kisses at the end. It’s dead embarrassing. But she’s OK really. Quite good fun actually. But nowhere near as much fun as Biscuits.

  So Dad got in touch with Biscuits’ dad. And Mum had a long talk on the phone with Biscuits’ mum. It was all fixed!

  I was thrilled. Biscuits was thrilled.

  Kelly was not at all thrilled when I wrote and told her.

  She wrote back: ‘You mean rotten stinking pig. Why didn’t you ask me to go to this Llanpissy place with you? Though I’m going to have a MUCH better holiday. My mum’s got this new boyfriend with a caravan and we’re all going to go camping and it’ll be heaps more fun. And I might have asked you to come too but I’m not now. So there.’

  I got a bit worried I might have upset Kelly.

  ‘But Kelly’s just my girlfriend. Biscuits is my best ever friend friend,’ I said to Mum. ‘I’m so so so pleased he’s coming on holiday. We’ll have such fun together. We laughed and mucked around and played all these daft games together when we were on that adventure holiday. It was great.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d had a terrible time,’ said Mum. ‘Oh dear. I think I’d better buy a good book for this holiday.’

  She sounded a bit huffy. I got the feeling I’d somehow upset her too.

  ‘It’s only natural that Tim wants to play games with his pal. Do you know how to play French cricket, Tim? It’s a great game – but you’ll need me to join in too, to make up the numbers.’

  ‘Biscuits and me don’t like French or cricket, Dad. We play our own games. He’s Biscuits-Boy and I’m Super-Tim,’ I said.

  ‘Oh. Right. I see,’ said Dad. He suddenly sounded huffy too.

  I seemed to have upset everyone.

  I felt upset myself the morning of the holiday. Truly seriously upset. I felt sick and shaky and my tummy kept squeezing so I couldn’t eat my breakfast.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, I do hope you’re not going down with anything nasty, Tim,’ said Mum, feeling my forehead.

  ‘He’s fine. He’s just tired because it’s so early,’ said Dad, yawning.

  It was ever so early, still practically night time. We had to make an early start because Llanpistyll is a very long way.

  ‘We’ve had to make an even earlier start than usual to pick up Biscuits on the way. You do realize, Tim, it’s adding a good fifty miles to the journey,’ said Dad.

  ‘Biscuits is such a silly name. I hope he’s not a silly boy. I don’t want you two messing around too much, Tim. I don’t like it when you get over-excited,’ said Mum. ‘Is that why you’re feeling funny, dear? Because you’re so looking forward to seeing him?’

  I didn’t know. I suddenly felt shy. I knew I liked Biscuits ever so much. But what if he didn’t like me this time? Maybe he’d changed? Maybe he’d think me a bit weird now? And what would he think of my mum and dad?

  I’d packed Walter Bear in my suitcase but I had to rush to my bedroom and get him out and have a quick nuzzle into his warm furry head. Then I saw myself in the mirror.

  I saw this boy and this bear having a cuddle. Maybe Biscuits would think me a great big baby?

  ‘Come on, Tim, I thought you’d done all your packing,’ said Dad, peering round my door. ‘Put that silly bear down and get a move on.’

  Dad certainly thought me a great big baby. I don’t think he likes Walter Bear one bit.

  ‘Do you really have to take that old bear with you?’ said Dad.

  ‘Yes, I really have to, Dad,’ I said clinging to Walter.

  ‘Well, pack it away, then! You don’t want Biscuits to laugh at you, do you?’ said Dad, and he snatched Walter and shoved him on top of my folded holiday clothes and slammed the case shut.

  ‘Dad! Watch out! His legs are all twisted back – and his nose will get squashed! He wants me to make him a special nest in my T-shirts,’ I wailed.

  ‘Oh give me strength!’ said Dad. ‘You mind I don’t pack you in the suitcase too. Now go and get in the car this minute while I lock up the house and get the boot loaded.’

  ‘No, wait! Tim, have you done a last wee?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘When? I should do another one just in case,’ said Mum.

  I wondered if Mum would keep asking if I needed to have a wee when Biscuits was around. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe he would laugh at me.

  It was a very long drive up to where Biscuits lived. I sat. I looked out the window. I bit my nails.

  ‘Are you all right, Tim? You’re ever so quiet,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not feeling sick, are you?’

  ‘A bit,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Mum. ‘Here, have a barley sugar. Maybe we should have given you a travel pill. Wind the window down a bit, dear. If you really feel you’re going to be sick, do try to tell Dad in time, won’t you?’

  ‘He’s not going to be sick,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t keep on about it. Try to take his mind off it.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got some little treats in my bag – but I was going to wait until Biscuits could share them too. Why don’t you just cuddle up with Walter Bear, Tim?’

  ‘I can’t. He’s shut in the suitcase. With his legs bent back and his nose squashed sideways,’ I said mournfully.

  ‘Do give it a rest – both of you!’ said Dad.

  Mum went into a huff.

  I went in a huff too, though I’m not sure Dad noticed.

  Then I fell asleep for a bit.

  ‘Wake up, Tim!’ Dad called. ‘We’re nearly at Biscuits’ house. Now, according to this map they sent, Marlow Road should be . . . oh blow, we’ve just gone past it!’

  It took another ten minutes of turning down one-way roads and doing U-turns before we eventually arrived outside Biscuits’ house. And there was Biscuits on the doorstep.

  ‘There he is! Well, get out the car, Tim, and run and say hello,’ said Dad.

  ‘We’ll all get out, darling,’ said Mum. ‘Come on. What’s the matter? You’re not shy, are you?’

  I felt s-o-o-o-o shy I couldn’t say a word. Biscu