Jacqueline Wilson's Happy Holidays Read online

  ‘I really don’t think you ought to eat quite so much chocolate, dear,’ said Mum. ‘It’s really not very good for you. Hasn’t your mother tried to put you on a diet?’

  Biscuits’ eyes popped in horror.

  ‘My – mum – says – I – need – to – eat – lots – to – keep – my – strength – up!’ he gasped.

  ‘Yes, dear, but it’s being so heavy that makes you so out of breath,’ said Mum.

  ‘Now, now, leave the lad alone. It’s not really any of our business,’ said Dad. ‘Come and look at this fantastic view.’

  ‘I don’t want to go too near the edge, it makes me feel so dizzy,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t you go near the edge either, boys.’

  I didn’t want to go right to the edge of the parapet. I didn’t mind at all looking up but I knew exactly what it would feel like looking down. I went a bit wobbly just thinking about it.

  ‘It’s – perfectly – safe,’ said Biscuits, his voice stronger now. He pulled a face at my mum’s back. I hesitated. Then I pulled one too. We both giggled.

  ‘She doesn’t half flap, your mum,’ Biscuits whispered.

  ‘Yes, I know. Flap, flap, flap,’ I said.

  It felt such fun to whisper about my mum – but my heart had started to thump.

  Biscuits raised his big arms and flapped them. I flapped mine too.

  Mum turned round, hanging on to Dad.

  ‘What are you two up to?’ she called, looking at our rotating arms.

  ‘We’re just pretending to fly, Mum, that’s all,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Come on, let’s peer over,’ said Biscuits.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ I said.

  ‘Look, I didn’t want to clamber up all those millions and millions of steps so that I practically had a heart attack. But I did. Because you wanted to climb the castle. It’s stupid to get right up here and then not even look out. Come on. I want to. So it’s only fair that you come too.’

  I didn’t want to let him down. I knew he was still miffed at my mum. I didn’t want him to be miffed at me too. So I took his great plump paw and let him drag me towards the edge of the parapet. It came up to my chin but when I glimpsed the ground far below, the crumbling bricks seemed only ankle height. One small step and I’d be walking into thin air, tumbling down down down to the distant grey slabs below.

  I gave a little gasp and shut my eyes tight.

  ‘Wow!’ said Biscuits. ‘You can see for Mega-Miles, even in the rain. OK, so there’s the sea. Which little bay is Llanpistyll? And what about Abercoch? Is it that way – or that?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I mumbled, pretending to be peering. I had my hands up near my closed eyes so Biscuits wouldn’t suss anything.

  ‘And can you see that other castle? It’s huge! It’s got two towers! And a proper drawbridge and a real moat!’ said Biscuits.

  ‘Where?’ I said, opening my eyes. I held on to the edge of the parapet so hard my knuckles nearly sprang straight out of my skin. ‘I can’t see any castle!’

  ‘Funny! Neither can I, now,’ said Biscuits, grinning. ‘Must have been a mirage. Still – got you looking, didn’t it?’

  I stuck my tongue out at him. It wasn’t quite so scary now that I was getting used to looking. I liked seeing all the wiggly wavy edges of the coast, just like the maps you do at school. It was weird having an eagle-eye view of the world. I stared at the mustard and cress forests, the saucer-size lake, the pencil spire of the tiny toy church, the little matchbox caravan sites until my eyes watered.

  I started to enjoy looking across.

  I still wasn’t so keen on looking directly down. But old Biscuits was leaning right over.

  ‘Careful, Biscuits!’ I said, grabbing him.

  ‘I’m OK. Don’t you start flapping now. Here, what’s that jutting out bit with the hole? Is that where they poured boiling oil on the invading army?’

  I bent my head, my blood pounding. I saw what Biscuits was looking at and laughed wildly.

  ‘No, but it would work almost as well! That’s their toilet! They’d do it and it would splash right down so if you were walking about underneath it could land right on your head.’

  ‘Yuck!’

  We started miming the whole process.

  ‘What on earth are you two boys up to now?’ Mum called. ‘Why are you rubbing your hair like that, Tim?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just getting a bit wet, that’s all,’ I said.

  ‘Well, let’s go back down and get in the car,’ said Mum. ‘I wonder if there are any toilets nearby? Tim? Biscuits? What are you two boys laughing at now?’

  We found the public toilets – modern version – and then got back in the car and did another little scenic tour. Biscuits casually mentioned chocolate once or twice but Mum said it was too near lunchtime.

  We drove to Abercoch. It was only drizzling now so we walked along the seafront and had fish and chips out of a packet, all of us sitting on the wet wall. Mum made us put newspaper down first so that we wouldn’t get piles. That made us remember this seriously awful sneery-jeery show-off at the adventure holiday place called Giles – only Biscuits called him Piles.

  Mum and Dad had take-away cups of tea and we had ice lollies, and then we went for a walk towards the old broken-down pier.

  There was a white wooden kiosk near the entrance with all sorts of painted magic symbols round the door and a sign that said GYPSY ROSE, FORTUNE-TELLER TO THE STARS.

  ‘Ooh look,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve always wanted to have my fortune told.’

  ‘Don’t be so wet,’ said Dad. ‘It’s all a complete con.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t know anything about it. Tim, shall I have my fortune told?’

  ‘Ooh yes, Mum! Can I have my fortune done too?’

  ‘No dear, it’s only for grown-ups.’

  ‘You don’t want to waste your money,’ said Dad.

  ‘Yes I do,’ said Mum.

  ‘She’ll just tell you some old rubbish about a romantic encounter with a handsome stranger,’ said Dad.

  ‘That sounds good to me,’ said Mum, knocking at the little wooden door. ‘Keep an eye on the boys while I’m in here.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, can’t we come and watch?’ I said.

  But we had to trail after Dad onto the pier. I hung back.

  ‘What’s up, Tim?’ said Biscuits. ‘Look, I’ll tell your fortune if you like.’ He pulled his T-shirt off and tied it round his head like a gypsy scarf. ‘Give me your hand, young man. Aah, what’s this I see? An encounter with an ugly stranger – one with prickly hair and big boots!’

  ‘I hope not!’ I said, snatching my hand away – even though I knew he was just larking around.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ Dad called to us. ‘Biscuits, put your T-shirt on, it’s hardly sunbathing weather. And what’s up with you, Tim?’

  ‘I don’t like the pier,’ I mumbled.

  ‘What?’ said Dad. ‘What are you on about? Let’s go and see if the lads fishing have caught anything.’

  ‘I don’t think much of this pier either,’ Biscuits said. ‘It’s all old and boring. Only one ice-cream stall. They haven’t got any doughnuts or rock or burger bars.’

  ‘Yes, rotten old pier,’ I said, though I didn’t care about the lack of food stalls.

  I didn’t like the pier itself. I worried about the way the wooden planks were seldom perfectly slotted together. You could see through the gaps down to the frothy grey sea underneath. Some of the planks looked really old, as if they’d splinter as soon as you stepped on them.

  I tried to work out the width of the plank and the width of me. It was fine for someone big like Biscuits. But I’m seriously skinny. I could quite possibly go plummeting downwards to my death. Well, I can swim a bit so maybe I wouldn’t drown immediately. But I knew there are all sorts of dangerous currents under piers. Even very strong swimmers could be sucked straight under.

  ‘Why are you walking in that funny way?’ asked Biscuits.