Lizzie Zipmouth Read Free

but he ran and fetched his purple Beanie Baby teddy.

    â€œYou can have Mr Purple just for one night,” he said. “Only you will give him back in the morning, won’t you, Lizzie Zipmouth?”
    I didn’t say anything but I nodded at him.
    I didn’t touch the chocolate but I nibbled an edge of biscuit and cuddled Mr Purple. Then I snuggled down to go to sleep.
    Then guess what. Mum came in with a tray of tea for me. I didn’t have to say sorry. In fact Mum said sorry to me! She gave me a big, big cuddle and she cried. She promised she’d never ever get cross again. But as I said, I don’t always believe Mum’s promises.

    The next day was Sunday. Mum and I used to have lovely fun Sundays when we were just a family of two. We’d lie in bed late and play Bears-in-Caves under the bedcovers and once Mum let me take a jar of honey to bed with us and she just laughed when the sheets got all sticky.

    Mum liked reading the newspapers all morning. I liked drawing on the papers, giving all the ladies in the photos moustaches and the men long dangly earrings. Then we’d have a picnic lunch in the park. We even had picnics when it was raining. We didn’t care. We just said it was lovely weather for ducks and went, “Quack quack quack.” Then we watched videos in the evening. Mum liked old black-and-white movies and I liked new brightly coloured cartoons.

    We had LOVELY Sundays.
    I didn’t think I was going to like the new Sundays one bit. Mum and Sam had a lie-in. Rory and Jake had pillow fights and played on their computer. I sat in the wardrobe. I wished I had Mr Purple to keep me company but he was back in his box in Jake’s bedroom.
    We all went out to the pub for Sunday lunch. I don’t like proper meals like meat and vegetables and puddings. I cut mine into teeny-tiny pieces and didn’t eat any of them.
    Jake started messing about with his meal too. Sam told him off.
    â€œIt’s not fair! Lizzie Zipmouth isn’t eating hers properly.”
    â€œI’ve told you and told you not to call Lizzie silly names,” said Sam. “Eat up at once, Jake!”
    â€œAnd you eat up too, Lizzie,” said Mum.
    I zipped my lips shut tight.
    â€œShe’s a silly baby,” said Jake, dropping his forkful of potato onto his plate so that gravy splashed all over Mum.
    â€œYou’re both silly babies,” said Mum. “Oh dear, look at my white shirt! And I wanted to look extra smart to meet your grandma, Sam.”

    We were going to have tea with this old, old lady. If she was Sam’s grandma she was Rory and Jake’s great-gran.
    â€œSo does that mean she’s Lizzie’s sort-of step-great-gran?” said Rory.
    I’ve never had my own great-gran. I’ve got a granny at the seaside and a gran and grandpa in Scotland but I don’t see any of them very often. I didn’t want to see this sort-of step-great-gran either.
    â€œMy mum and dad live in Australia,” said Sam. “So Great-Gran is very special for me.”
    He said it as if special meant scary !
    â€œShe’s OK, I suppose. But she’s very strict,” said Rory. “She tells me off if I talk in a slang sort of way. She says it sounds sloppy.”
    â€œShe says I look sloppy,” said Jake. “She’s always licking her hankie and wiping my face. Yuck! I hate that.”
    I didn’t want this old lady telling me off and wiping me. I looked at Mum. Mum looked as if she was worried about being told off and wiped too.
    Great-Gran lived in a big block of flats. I hoped she might live right up at the top but she lived on the ground floor. Sam said it was to save her legs. I wondered if they were wearing out. Perhaps they were about to snap off at the socket like an old doll.
    Great-Gran looked a bit like an old doll. This strange stiff little lady came to the door. She had very black hair combed so tightly into place it made her