In the middle of the kitchen table there’s a note, saying everyone’s gone to the nursing home to see Aunt Lou.
Missing out on a visit to Great Aunt Lou has to be the one high point of this pretty pants afternoon. Also known as Aunt Loon, she’s as vicious as a viper and has an equally poisonous tongue.
And there’s another bright side. Because now I suppose at least I can get out of this dress without anyone seeing me. Harry would have a field day if she clocked me looking like this. I’d never hear the end of it.
Now where are the scissors? I seriously need to get this dress off. The kitchen ones aren’t sharp enough, so I grab Mum’s dressmaker’s scissors from the drawer in the sitting room, and try to cut past the zip, but it’s no good. I can’t get the angle right, and after stabbing myself in the ribs, drawing blood, I realise I’m going to have to wait for someone to come and free me. So I wait. And I wait.
I text Millie, but she doesn’t answer. She’s not online either. I ponder ringing Danny, but his documentary’s on and if I try to speak to him all I’ll get is a few huffy grunts. It’ll be too late by the time the Star Wars fest is finished for him to come over and free me.
I eat tea, which makes the tight dress even tighter and more uncomfortable. Eventually, I give up on waiting for someone to come home and go to bed.
Still wearing the dress.
CHAPTER THREE
I wake with a start the next morning as Amber lands on the end of my bed. The mattress practically tilts over as she lowers her vast bulk onto it. I stare at her through bleary eyes, then at the alarm clock.
6.30 a.m.
Really?
It’s the first day of the summer holidays. I want to sleep! I’m knackered, as I was jerking awake all night long, panicking I was dying. This stupid dress kept making me feel like I was suffocating.
“Oooh, goody, you’re up,” Amber says.
“Well, I am now, because you woke me,” I say, grumpily. “But now you’re here, you can help me with something…”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Amber says, like she’s not even heard me. Will nobody help me out of this flipping frock? I don’t think she’s even
noticed
I’m not in my PJs.
“I needed someone to talk to,” she continues.
“You have a husband,” I remind her. “Who sleeps inyour room, in your bed, right next to you. Every. Single. Night. Can’t you speak to him instead?”
“Oh, you know Markymoo, he’s such a heavy sleeper,” Amber says. “And besides, I wanted you, Suzypoos. You’re much better at talking baby stuff than he is. You can’t really talk about that kind of thing with boys.”
Hmm. Well, I suppose it is kinda awesome becoming an aunt to twins. It’s a shame they’re not identical, that would be cooler than cool, but twins of any sort are still pretty amazing. And I am much more tolerant towards my sister these days, ever since she helped me and Danny get back together after our break-up at the beginning of the year.
“What about Mum?” I say, giving up on getting any help from Amber and snuggling under the duvet. “She can chat babies morning, noon and night. Didn’t you try her?”
“I did,” Amber says regretfully, “but Dad kicked me out and told me if I didn’t leave he’d lock me in the wardrobe. As if I’d fit. That’s no way to talk to your pregnant daughter, if you ask me.”
Dad still hasn’t quite recovered from the shock of hearing that his eldest is expecting twins. There’s the possibility there could be two more females in there waiting to invade his territory, and he’s not dealing with the prospect particularly well. Amber and Mark havebeen majorly strong-willed about refusing to find out the sexes of the babies. We all thought Amber would be dying to know, but she’s decided she wants a surprise.
“Budge up and let me get in,” Amber says.
“This is a single bed,” I protest, as Amber leaves me with about a millimetre of space and hanging dangerously off the edge.
She
Missing out on a visit to Great Aunt Lou has to be the one high point of this pretty pants afternoon. Also known as Aunt Loon, she’s as vicious as a viper and has an equally poisonous tongue.
And there’s another bright side. Because now I suppose at least I can get out of this dress without anyone seeing me. Harry would have a field day if she clocked me looking like this. I’d never hear the end of it.
Now where are the scissors? I seriously need to get this dress off. The kitchen ones aren’t sharp enough, so I grab Mum’s dressmaker’s scissors from the drawer in the sitting room, and try to cut past the zip, but it’s no good. I can’t get the angle right, and after stabbing myself in the ribs, drawing blood, I realise I’m going to have to wait for someone to come and free me. So I wait. And I wait.
I text Millie, but she doesn’t answer. She’s not online either. I ponder ringing Danny, but his documentary’s on and if I try to speak to him all I’ll get is a few huffy grunts. It’ll be too late by the time the Star Wars fest is finished for him to come over and free me.
I eat tea, which makes the tight dress even tighter and more uncomfortable. Eventually, I give up on waiting for someone to come home and go to bed.
Still wearing the dress.
CHAPTER THREE
I wake with a start the next morning as Amber lands on the end of my bed. The mattress practically tilts over as she lowers her vast bulk onto it. I stare at her through bleary eyes, then at the alarm clock.
6.30 a.m.
Really?
It’s the first day of the summer holidays. I want to sleep! I’m knackered, as I was jerking awake all night long, panicking I was dying. This stupid dress kept making me feel like I was suffocating.
“Oooh, goody, you’re up,” Amber says.
“Well, I am now, because you woke me,” I say, grumpily. “But now you’re here, you can help me with something…”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Amber says, like she’s not even heard me. Will nobody help me out of this flipping frock? I don’t think she’s even
noticed
I’m not in my PJs.
“I needed someone to talk to,” she continues.
“You have a husband,” I remind her. “Who sleeps inyour room, in your bed, right next to you. Every. Single. Night. Can’t you speak to him instead?”
“Oh, you know Markymoo, he’s such a heavy sleeper,” Amber says. “And besides, I wanted you, Suzypoos. You’re much better at talking baby stuff than he is. You can’t really talk about that kind of thing with boys.”
Hmm. Well, I suppose it is kinda awesome becoming an aunt to twins. It’s a shame they’re not identical, that would be cooler than cool, but twins of any sort are still pretty amazing. And I am much more tolerant towards my sister these days, ever since she helped me and Danny get back together after our break-up at the beginning of the year.
“What about Mum?” I say, giving up on getting any help from Amber and snuggling under the duvet. “She can chat babies morning, noon and night. Didn’t you try her?”
“I did,” Amber says regretfully, “but Dad kicked me out and told me if I didn’t leave he’d lock me in the wardrobe. As if I’d fit. That’s no way to talk to your pregnant daughter, if you ask me.”
Dad still hasn’t quite recovered from the shock of hearing that his eldest is expecting twins. There’s the possibility there could be two more females in there waiting to invade his territory, and he’s not dealing with the prospect particularly well. Amber and Mark havebeen majorly strong-willed about refusing to find out the sexes of the babies. We all thought Amber would be dying to know, but she’s decided she wants a surprise.
“Budge up and let me get in,” Amber says.
“This is a single bed,” I protest, as Amber leaves me with about a millimetre of space and hanging dangerously off the edge.
She
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