I Lost My Mobile At the Mall Read Free Page A

off to meet Jai and had care factor zero about my bag and phone. She's right that I have to face facts. And the first major fact is that I really do need a new BF.
    Uh-oh! I can hear the Queen Mother walking up the hall and greeting His Excellency the Mutt.
    'Here, Harry,' she calls. 'There you go. Look at you. Good dog.'
    Then the cat is acknowledged, no doubt with a dismissive regal wave.
    'Camilla! Shoo! Get off that couch. You've left fur all over it.'
    Then, finally it's my turn.
    'Elly. Eleanor. Are you home? I've been trying to call you on your mobile,' yells Mum.
    All jokes aside, this is going to be right royal torture.

Saturday. 7 pm.
Seven hours PM.
    It's now seven hours since I lost my mobile at the mall and as I predicted, I am dead. Dead to my family. Dead to the world. Dead, as Nan might say, as a doornail.
    (BTW: What is a 'doornail' anyway and why is it so dead? I google it and find out that on big doors in medieval times the heavy metal knocker was banged against the head of a nail. Banged so often that the head of the nail was probably as dead as.)
    :'-(
    I'm in my dungeon feeling as if my head has been banged repeatedly. They all lined up to have a go. The first blow came from my mother.
    'Elly! You are so careless! Stupid!' she yells. 'Are you thinking anything at all? Or is your brain just a few cells held together with lip gloss and nail polish?
    I have to admit that my mother had me there for a moment, because sometimes I wonder the same thing myself. I try to think of things in the correct order, but with so much to think about all at once ('Why am I here?', 'Where are my sports socks?') it's easy to be distracted by shiny stuff like lip gloss and nail polish.
    My mother is an events organiser – a weddings, parties, anything planner. Her business is called 'Regal Events'. Geddit? She values, above all, punctuality and attention to detail. I swear that my mother wouldn't mind if I smuggled marijuana to Bali as long as I was at the airport on time, had proper travel insurance and wasn't carrying a pair of nail scissors in my hand luggage.
    First she rang to report my phone missing and put a bar on the number. (Which of course I would have done if I'd had a phone. Der! ) Then she herded me into the car and back we went to the mall. Groan!
    The first stop was the mall admin office, where she inspected the lost and found shelves. There's actually some really good stuff there: a couple of nice bags, cool sunnies and about thirty-seven mobile phones – none of them mine. Then she took twenty agonising minutes to carefully fill out a three-page form to report my handbag missing.
    After that she dragged me about eighty kilometres – including back to Tiara and to the Hip Pip juice bar – leaving her business card sticky-taped on every cash register and pinned to every noticeboard she could find (thoughtfully bringing along the sticky-tape and pins herself). If nothing else, Mrs Libby Pickering is sure to be offered the job of CEO of Britannia Mall Crime Stoppers.
    Of course there was the expected lecture on the way home about the Days Before Mobile Phones Were Invented. All very fascinating. (YAWN!) Truth is my mother would be dead as a doornail too if she didn't have her mobile. A common exchange heard in the halls of Pickering Palace:
    'Rick, have you seen my phone?' My mother tears through the kitchen, her car keys jangling in her hand.
    'No. Have you seen my car keys?' My father runs the other way, mobile up to his ear.
    'Can I use your mobile to ring mine?'
    'Can I use your key to my car?'
    'Sure, honey.'
    'Thanks, sweetie.'
    Ring ring . Jingle jangle . Kiss kiss. Bye bye . Slam!
    When I ask my mother if I can use her phone to ring Bianca and Will, she is, predictably, outraged.
    'This is a business phone, Elly,' she snaps. 'I simply can't have you gossiping away when I need it to be free for important calls.'
    She then takes a call and gossips away for a good half-hour to some client or other about