Contents ( 64)
- A Letter from the Author
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ONE
With trembling fingers, I pick up the Thumper Pop! and put it back on the mantelpiece.
The flat is a mess … I’m a mess.
I hate Mum right now.
I stare at Thumper’s bobbing ears until my heart starts to slow down. I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. In 1970, the astronauts on Apollo 13 were two days into their mission when there was a catastrophic explosion and they started to run out of oxygen. Did they scream and throw stuff? No, they used tape and a sock and made a machine that saved their lives. Their heart rates probably didn’t even increase! How can I dream of being an astronaut when I can’t even stay calm looking after a baby?
Slowly, my rage fades away and I’m left feeling shaky and embarrassed that a bit of soil and some books made me lose control.
I step over Elsa and go into the kitchen where I get a rice cake and a roll of bin bags.
I hold the rice cake out to Elsa. ‘Here we are,’ I say. She lies there, sucking her thumb and staring at me. ‘Sorry I shouted.’ I put my hand on her warm back. Slowly, her hand reaches out and she takes the rice cake. ‘I’ll give you a bath, but first we’re going to play Chuck Everything in the Bag, OK?’
She sucks on the rice cake.
‘Plastic fruit?’ I say, holding up some grapes. ‘Chuck it in the bag! Peppa Pig? Chuck her in the bag!’
Elsa sits up and watches me. After a moment, she gets one of my school shoes, crawls over to the bin bag and drops it in.
‘That’s it!’ I say, resisting the urge to take it straight out. She smiles and grabs hold of Pongo’s ankle. ‘No, not Pongo. He’s too big.’ I pass her a brick. ‘Do this instead.’
While she throws in the rest of the bricks, I get all the books back on the shelf. Soon we have three bulging bin bags, a pile of dishes on the kitchen table and, yes, I can see carpet!
‘Let’s get rid of this,’ I say, pulling the stopper out of the paddling pool. Air starts to hiss out and I throw it behind the sofa along with the bin bags. Now we have a big, beautiful, empty space! I lie down in it, too tired to do another thing. Inspired, Pongo and Elsa start doing circuits of the room, occasionally crawling over me. This is lovely, I think, shutting my eyes.
Then something hard and slimy drops on my forehead. I ignore it, but Pongo paws at my shoulder and then the slimy thing hits me again. I open one eye and see that it’s Pongo’s Kong – the big rubber ball he chases on the Downs. I roll over and force myself to sit up. ‘Walkies?’ I say.
TWENTY
Thursday passes by in a daze of trying not to fall asleep and resisting the temptation to buy a Crunchie. As usual, we have dinner at Grandad’s, then it’s back to the flat for a mini meltdown (Elsa decides she hates baths) and up on the Downs for our sleepy walk. Tonight I tell Elsa about the different types of stars – red dwarfs, white dwarfs and hypergiants – and soon her head falls forward and she’s sleeping in the sling. On the way back, I make a detour to the all-night garage. It’s an emergency. I need a Crunchie to get me back up the stairs to the flat. Once again, we both crash out on Mum’s bed. I really should get her back in her cot, I think, as I drift off to sleep … Maybe tomorrow …