Twin Tales Read online

  ‘Move out of the way, you’re blocking the steps,’ they said, and when Connie didn’t budge one of them pushed her.

  It was only a little push, but Connie lost her grip on the handrail. She fell forward, screaming. She went splosh into the bright blue water. It closed over her head and she clawed and kicked in this new terrifying blue world. Then something grabbed hold of her. She was whirled upwards and her head burst out in the air, ears popping with the sudden noise.

  ‘Poor old Connie! Were you trying to dive in?’ said Dad.

  Connie coughed and spluttered and clung to Dad. She put her arms tight round his neck and her legs tight round his waist, clinging to him like baby Charles or baby Claire.

  ‘Hey! What’s up? It’s OK, you’re not out of your depth here, Connie. This is the shallow end,’ said Dad. ‘Come on now, don’t be such a baby.’

  The girls who had pushed her were staring and giggling.

  ‘Put your feet down on the bottom, Connie,’ said Dad.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Connie said. ‘Don’t be silly now,’ said Dad, and he pulled her legs down.

  ‘No, no, don’t, I’ll go under!’ said Connie, panicking.

  ‘Of course you won’t,’ said Dad. ‘There. See? You can stand up easily. Your whole head’s out of the water.’

  Connie stuck her chin up as high as it would go. The water lapped around her neck.

  ‘I want to get out now,’ said Connie.

  ‘You’ve only just got in! I thought you were going to show me what a good swimmer you are.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Connie.

  ‘Well, let’s try one or two strokes, eh?’ said Dad. ‘I’ll hold you up, don’t worry. I’ll put my hand under your chin, OK? I’ve got you. Just relax now.’

  Connie didn’t see how she could possibly relax when her eyes were stinging, her ears were popping, her throat was hurting, her swimming costume was digging right into her, lots of girls were laughing at her, Dad was starting to get cross, and she was in a huge enormous pool of water and could drown any minute.

  But she did try one feeble little kick, one pathetic sweep of her arms. And then there was an announcement and a shriek of excitement and suddenly the water started tugging and heaving as if it was alive, a great water monster ready to gobble Connie up. They’d switched the wave machine on.

  ‘I’m getting out!’ said Connie, and she fought her way to the steps.

  Dad was cross because they’d only had five minutes in the water and it was a waste of money. Connie didn’t care. She knew one thing. She was never ever ever going swimming again.

  2. Spaghetti Worms

  ‘Coming swimming on Sunday?’ said Dad.

  ‘No fear,’ Connie said.

  Dad looked at Mum. Mum looked at Dad. They both looked at Connie.

  ‘Why don’t you give it another try, love?’ said Mum.

  ‘I don’t like swimming now. I hate it,’ said Connie.

  She stared at her plate. Mum had cooked spaghetti bolognese for tea, Connie’s all-time favourite, for the first time since the twins were born. Mum hadn’t had much time for proper cooking.

  Claire and Charles had actually been very good for a while, cooing and kicking their legs. They’d started to get a bit niggly the moment Mum started serving up the spaghetti, but Dad had popped their dummies in place and they acted like stoppers.

  Connie had been all set to enjoy her meal but now her tummy had gone tight at the very mention of swimming.

  ‘I think it’s time you learnt to swim properly,’ said Dad. ‘You were very nearly swimming before. Just a few lessons and you’ll be bobbing about in the water, no bother.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ said Connie.

  ‘I’ll make sure you don’t go under again, I promise,’ said Dad.

  ‘I know I’m not going to go under. Because I’m not going in,’ said Connie.

  She wound a portion of spaghetti round and round her fork. It was starting to look awfully like a lot of orange worms.

  ‘Don’t play with your food, darling. Eat it,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m not very hungry any more,’ said Connie, putting down her fork.

  ‘For goodness sake, Connie,’ said Dad. ‘Mum’s spent ages cooking you spag. bol. as a special treat. Now eat it up at once.’

  Connie picked up her forkful of orange worms. She put them in her mouth. Just for a moment they tasted delicious. But then, as her teeth got working and she felt the forkful spread out over her tongue, she thought she felt the worms going wriggle wriggle wriggle.

  Connie spat them out in terror.

  ‘Connie!’ Dad thundered.

  ‘Connie!’ Mum shouted.

  Mum didn’t often get cross but she was very keen on table manners. And she was very hurt because she’d made the meal specially.

  Connie tried to explain, but they just thought she was being naughty. It wasn’t fair. Baby Charles and baby Claire spat spoonfuls of food all over the place every single mealtime and no one ever turned a hair. Connie pointed this true fact out to her parents.

  ‘Well, you’re not a baby,’ said Mum. ‘Even though you’re acting like one now.’

  ‘And you’re coming swimming with me on Sundays whether you like it or not,’ said Dad.

  ‘But it’s so stupid if I don’t want to go,’ said Connie, nearly in tears. ‘You don’t really want to go either, Dad. Not early on Sunday mornings. You’d much sooner have a lie-in.’

  ‘I want you to learn how to swim. It’s very important. Every child has to learn. And it’s high time you did,’ said Dad.

  ‘Why?’ said Connie.

  ‘Because you need to learn to swim so you won’t ever drown,’ said Dad.

  ‘If I stay on dry land then I can’t possibly drown,’ said Connie. ‘But if I go swimming then I could easily drown. I very nearly did last Sunday.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Connie. You just went under for a second, that’s all. And I keep telling you, I won’t let it happen again.’

  ‘I know you’ve got a bit scared of swimming because of what happened last time,’ said Mum. ‘That’s why we want you to go again. So you can see that there’s truly nothing to be scared of. Swimming is great fun. Just give it one more try with Dad. OK?’

  It wasn’t at all OK with Connie, but she knew she was beaten.

  Connie started shivering just at the smell of the swimming-baths. She was shaking so badly she could hardly wriggle into her tight swimming costume. The dolphin on the front was still smiling so she swatted him hard – and punched herself in her own tummy.

  Connie had to be dragged to the big pool. Dad held her hand and did his best to be very very patient with her. He helped her down the steps himself, letting her go very slowly. When some other children clambered round impatiently, Dad told them to use the steps at the other side.

  ‘You take your time, Connie,’ he said.

  They were both shivering by the time Connie eventually got in the water. And then the wave machine was switched on, so Dad hauled Connie out of the water on to the side and let her sit there until the waves had stopped pounding up and down the pool.

  ‘Now, Connie,’ said Dad, when they switched the wave machine off at last, ‘we’ll have a little swimming lesson now. You’re going to be a big brave girl, right?’

  Wrong. Connie tried, but the moment the turquoise water started lapping round her she couldn’t be big or brave. She squealed and shook and shivered. Dad tried pulling her gently along with one hand under her chin and one hand under her tummy, but Connie was so scared of the water she kept arching her back and rearing her head up.

  Dad had to give up in the end. He tried sitting Connie on his back so that he could swim along with her.

  ‘You can pretend I’m a great big whale if you like.’

  This seemed quite a good idea. Connie clambered on to Dad’s back and held tight. Too tight. Dad swam several strokes and the water splashed right in Connie’s face.

  ‘Conn