Lizzie Zipmouth Read Free Page A

eyes pop. She creaked when she bent to hug Rory and Jake. She didn’t hug me. She just looked me up and down. She looked Mum up and down too.
    â€œIt’s lovely to meet you,” said Mum.

    Great-Gran didn’t look as if she thought it was lovely at all.
    â€œSay hello to Rory and Jake’s great-gran, Lizzie,” said Mum, though she knew I wouldn’t.
    And I didn’t. I stared at the doormat. It said WELCOME . The doormat was telling fibs.
    Great-Gran tutted. “Well, you’d better come in,” she said.
    Mum held my hand tight and we stepped inside.
    â€œDear, dear! Wipe your feet! Watch my beige carpet,” Great-Gran fussed.
    But I wasn’t watching her carpet. I was staring all round the walls in a daze. Hundreds of shining eyes were staring back at me!

Chapter Four

    Dolls! Old china dolls in cream frocks and pinafores and little button boots, soft plush dolls with rosy cheeks and curls, baby dolls in long white christening robes, lady dolls with tiny umbrellas and high heels, a Japanese doll in a kimono with a weeny fan, dolls in school uniform and swimming costumes and party frocks, great dolls as big as me sitting in real wicker chairs, middle-sized dolls in row after row on shelves, and tiny dolls no bigger than my thumb standing in their own green painted garden beside a doll’s house.
    â€œGreat-Gran collects dolls,” said Rory unnecessarily.
    â€œShe doesn’t collect Beanie Babies,” said Jake. “Not even the rare ones.”
    Sam patted my shoulder. “Are you cold, Lizzie? You’re shivering!” he said.
    â€œLizzie likes dolls,” said Mum.
    â€œWell, I’m sure Gran won’t mind her having a look at them,” said Sam – though he didn’t sound sure at all.
    â€œShe can look, but she mustn’t touch,” said Great-Gran.
    I put my hands behind my back to show her I wouldn’t touch even one tiny china hand.
    â€œThese are collector’s dolls,” said Great-Gran. “They’re not for children.”
    I nodded. I was very impressed. I thought I was too old for dolls but Great-Gran was very old indeed and she had hundreds. I knew exactly what I was going to be when I grew up. A doll collector!
    I wandered very slowly and carefully round Great-Gran’s flat. There were dolls on shelves all the way round her living room. She even had three special ballet dancer dolls on tippy-toes on top of her television set. She had a row of funny dolls with fat tummies on her kitchen window sill and a mermaid doll with a long shiny green tail in the bathroom. The dolls in her bedroom were all wearing their night-clothes, white nighties with pink ribbon trimming and blue-and-white striped pyjamas and soft red dressing-gowns with cords and tassels and little slippers with tiny pom-poms.

    â€œWell? What do you think of them?” said Great-Gran, walking along briskly behind me.
    I didn’t say anything. But I must have had the right look on my face because Great-Gran gave me a little nod.
    â€œI’d better go and put the kettle on,” she said. “They won’t have thought to do it, the gormless lot.”
    I gave the littlest doll one last lingering glance. Her plaits were tied with tiny pink ribbons and she was holding a little pink rabbit no bigger than a button.
    â€œI suppose you can stay in here looking,” she said. “But only if you promise you won’t touch.”
    I did my pantomime of hands behind my back. But this wasn’t good enough.
    â€œ Promise me,” said Great-Gran.
    I didn’t say anything but I tried so hard to make my face look as if I was promising that my eyes watered.

    Great-Gran’s eyes were a very bright blue even though she was such an old lady. They grew even brighter now.
    â€œI can’t hear you,” she said. She cupped her little claw hand behind her ear. “Speak up!”
    We looked at each other. I knew what she