Becky's Dress Disaster Read online

“This is a disaster!’ proclaimed Annabel dramatically.

  Normally Katie would have told her off for being a drama queen, but she felt pretty much the same way at the moment. She nodded dolefully. “How can she go out with him? Imagine, it’s like one of us going out with Max!”

  Annabel groaned realistic sick noises, but Becky shrugged. “Maybe he’s not like Max – I mean, Mum wouldn’t go out with him if he wasn’t nice.”

  The other two looked at her disbelievingly, and shook their heads. Annabel folded her arms. “All I can say is, Mum’s gone mad – and maybe you have too, Becky! Max’s dad! Nice!” She and Katie rolled their eyes at each other.

  Becky glared. “I’m not saying it’s not a disaster – you know I can’t stand Max – you just never know, that’s all.”

  That was true, at least. The triplets sighed, and slumped back on to the bed, pondering the general unfairness of life…

  The triplets were rather silent that evening. Mrs Lucy, who enjoyed babysitting for them, as they were normally very happy to sit down and play silly games like Pictionary, or try to teach her how to use the PlayStation, found them a bit of a puzzle. She eventually persuaded them into a game of Trivial Pursuit, but when she found that Katie was actually getting the sport questions all wrong, she realized that they just weren’t concentrating.

  “Are you three all right?” she asked, putting the cards back into the box. “You don’t seem to be having much fun tonight.”

  Becky gave her an apologetic smile. “We’re OK – Mum’s gone out with someone we don’t like very much, that’s all.”

  “Huh!” Katie didn’t so much say this as spit it. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  “We’ve never actually met him, you know,” Becky pointed out reasonably. It was a bad idea – Katie wasn’t up for reasonableness right now.

  “Don’t need to meet him,” she snapped. “If he’s Max’s dad he’s got to be horrible, it’s just common sense, which you obviously haven’t got any of.”

  Mrs Lucy looked shocked. “Katie!”

  Katie shrugged, and muttered, “Sorry,” without even looking at her sister.

  Becky tried hard not to mind – it was understandable that Katie would be extra-furious about Mr Cooper, after all her scraps with Max – but did she really need to be so hurtful about it? Becky had only been trying to calm things down. She stared down at her hands and very carefully put all the little wedges back into their bag, trying not to let the tears get any further than the corners of her eyes. It was bad enough having to deal with Mum having a horrible new boyfriend, without it meaning a cross, snappish sister as well.

  Annabel gave Katie a look of surprise – normally she was very protective of Becky, and if Annabel had made a comment like that Katie would probably have given her a real telling-off. She decided not to say anything though – she didn’t feel like a fight, and Katie seemed to be itching for one right now.

  That night, for once, the triplets didn’t chat for ages when they went to bed. Usually they ended up gradually falling asleep mid-gossip at the weekends (during the week Mum came in and shut them up). But no one was quite in the mood tonight. Becky lay awake listening for the telltale click of the door-latch, and Mum and Mrs Lucy’s whispered conversation, followed by Mum coming up to bed really, really quietly. It was something Becky’d always done, ever since she could first remember her parents going out and leaving them with someone. After all, what if something happened to them while they were out? Becky knew it was stupid really, but it was a hard habit to break. And tonight it sounded like Katie was doing it too, because as soon as the door went Becky heard her sister sigh and turn over.

  Mum didn’t mention anything about her date when the triplets finally surfaced quite late the next morning, but Becky thought she looked particularly happy. It was really sad, Becky thought, that something that was obviously making their mum feel good should make them so miserable. Katie came down to breakfast in a tracksuit and trainers, and seemed surprised that Becky was wearing a skirt.

  “You can’t practise in that!”

  Becky tried to protest. “We’re not going to the park till this afternoon!”

  But Katie looked so pleading that she trailed back upstairs to put a pair of tracksuit bottoms on. Becky had a feeling it was going to be a long day. She hadn’t had much time for homework the day before because of the dress-fitting, so she spent the morning slogging through her maths and science, which Katie, of course, had whizzed through on Friday night, as they were her best subjects. She hadn’t seen Annabel do any homework at all, but then Bel always seemed to get by on a snatched five minutes here and there.

  She fitted in a quick call to Fran to break the news that they would be joining football training. She’d been prepared to grovel, but Fran didn’t mind. She was an only child and she lived just with her dad, so she loved doing stuff with the triplets – there was always so much going on in their house.

  “And I’ve got the worst news as well,” Becky added, after she’d explained the football stuff.

  “What?” Fran was intrigued.

  “You remember that thing we thought was going on with Mum and Max’s dad?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They went out on a date last night!”

  Fran let out a suitably horrified gasp. “No!”

  ‘Yup. So watch out for Katie – she’s in and out of the world’s worst mood. Hopefully some football will cheer her up.”

  Megan’s dad dropped her at the triplets’ house just after lunch – they’d arranged to meet Fran and Feathers at the park, as her house was just on the other side of it. Katie and Megan were looking sickeningly energetic, Becky thought, yawning after her late night lying awake. They dashed round the house finding footballs, and boots, and a million and one other things that Becky really couldn’t see the point of. And it seemed to be her job to carry half of them. Annabel stood watching, nibbling blissfully on a piece of peanut butter toast, and smirking at Becky.

  “Why don’t you come too, Bel?” asked Megan, enthusiasm practically bubbling out of her ears.

  “Sorry, Megan, I’m really busy this afternoon,” Annabel replied earnestly. Then she grinned, and fluttered her fingers at them. “Got some heavy-duty manicuring to do.”

  Katie and Megan shook their heads in disbelief and Becky glared at Annabel. “I hope you’ve done your maths homework,” she said crossly. “You needn’t think you’re going to ‘borrow’ mine like you did last week.”

  Katie looked shocked. “You let her copy your homework?”

  “No! Well, I suppose so. She said she just wanted to check she was on the right lines.”

  “Mmm, and if I’d borrowed yours, Katie, Mr Jones would have noticed for sure.” Annabel nodded seriously. “You get them all right. Becky and me normally get the same kind of stuff totally wrong.”

  Katie and Becky exchanged long-suffering glances, and left her to it.

  Deepdene Park was only five minutes’ walk from the triplets’ house, and they’d been going there since they were tiny. It had a gorgeous little pond with loads of ducks and a couple of swans, and plenty of open space for football practice, even if it didn’t have a proper pitch. It was also a paradise for dogs, as there were quite a few little woody bits, and some long grass. When Becky, Katie and Megan arrived, Becky took a quick look round. No Fran, as far as she could see – but then a golden shape launched itself out of the trees a little way away and came bounding towards her at what looked like the speed of light, barking its head off.

  “Watch out! Dog incoming!” yelled the black-haired person racing after him, and the three girls dropped all their stuff and prepared to field Feathers.

  He was obviously in a very good mood – well, he always was, except on visits to the V-E-T – and he wanted to share it with them all, especially Becky, whom he adored. He waltzed round them, his whole
body wagging along with his tail, and tried to lick as much person as he possibly could. Fran panted up after him, and tried to grab his collar, and eventually she and Becky got him calmed down enough to put his lead back on.

  “Sorry!” Fran gasped. “He didn’t get much of a walk yesterday ’cause me and Dad were out, so he’s gone hyper today. Did he break anything?”

  Much as Fran adored Feathers, she lived in constant fear of him doing something awful. He was a lovely dog, very sweet-natured, but very big, very stupid, and very excitable. He lived for food and chasing things, and he tended to ignore whatever got in his way, like people … or furniture. He had a special talent for finding whichever table had china on it, and walking through it, hard.

  Katie looked down at the furry whirlwind who was now chasing his own tail. “I thought Golden Retrievers were supposed to be really obedient.”

  “Mmmm,” Becky and Fran agreed with her.

  “And sensible.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Guide dogs are Golden Retrievers lots of the time.”

  “Yup.”

  “So?”

  Fran grinned. “Feathers thinks he’s a Chihuahua. That’s why he bumps into things all the time.”

  Katie frowned. “Is he going to behave while we practise?”

  “Can’t he join in?” asked Becky hopefully. “He’s good at football. Don’t you remember when Fran brought him round?”

  Katie sighed, and shrugged. “Oh, I suppose so. But if he runs off with the ball, I’m not chasing after him, OK? You two can do it.”

  “Absolutely.” Becky nodded vigorously. “He’ll be really good, Katie, honestly. He’s a great striker – we’ll use him to test you out!” She and Fran giggled.

  Actually, Feathers was really good at football – the problem was he didn’t like letting go of the ball, and passing, obviously, was something he didn’t get. Why on earth would he want to give this lovely ball to someone else? But chasing him round the field was certainly good exercise, and after fifteen minutes of Feathersball, the girls slumped down on the grass for a rest.

  “Well, he’s definitely winning,” sighed Katie, leaning back on her elbows, and watching Feathers, who’d let go of the ball for once so he could stand a few centimetres away and bark frantically at it, in case it was thinking of running away.

  Fran looked apologetic. “Sorry! Me and Becky’ll take him for a run when we’ve caught our breath, and then you and Megan can practise properly.”

  Becky gave her a quick, relieved glance. Thank goodness! Katie and Megan were so serious about their football that practising with them could be a bit scary.

  Five minutes later, Katie heaved herself up off the ground, and gave Megan a hand to pull her up. “We’ll see you two in a bit then.”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe once we’ve worn Feathers out a bit we can come back and you can show us some more of the stuff,” said Becky, trying to sound enthusiastic. She felt a teensy bit guilty when Katie looked so pleased.

  Becky, Fran and Feathers headed off to the woodier part of the park so Feathers could go squirrel-chasing – his second-favourite game after football. Becky and Fran chatted as Feathers raced ahead of them, woofing ecstatically.

  “Oh, look at that gorgeous dog!” Becky exclaimed suddenly, pointing a little way ahead. It was a small Jack Russell terrier, racing through the long grass after a Frisbee that his owner had just thrown for him. The dog was pretty tiny, and the grass was long, so he wasn’t so much running as bouncing, covering the distance in great bounds as he fought to get his nose out of the grass and see where the Frisbee was going.

  The girls laughed delightedly as the little dog leaped into the air at just the right moment to catch the Frisbee – which wasn’t much smaller than he was – and turned in mid-air to race back to his owner for another go. On the way back they couldn’t even see the dog – there was just a bright-yellow Frisbee bouncing up and down above the grass.

  “Ohhh, he’s so cute,” said Fran. “I wish Feathers would fetch.”

  “He does!” said Becky, surprised.

  “Yeah, but the point of fetching is that the dog gives it back. Feathers fetches and then disappears off to chew the stick into a million pieces. That one’s obviously going to give the Frisbee to his owner.” Fran and Becky’s eyes tracked the tiny dog back, and then they both gasped.

  “Oh!” Becky looked as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “That – that isn’t Max, is it?”

  “Yup.” Fran nodded, equally gobsmacked.

  The Jack Russell had handed over the Frisbee, after a little bit of mock-growling, and was now being made a huge fuss of by a dark-haired boy who Becky and Fran never normally saw without a scowl on his face. Max Cooper – the triplets’ least favourite person. (He was definitely beating Amy Mannering at the moment, since this whole thing between the triplets’ mum and his dad.)

  Fran and Becky moved slightly so that they were behind some bushes and could watch without Max seeing them.

  “Max is being really nice,” murmured Becky, disbelievingly.

  She could see that he adored the little dog from the way he was patting him, and the dog was jumping all over him, licking and yapping as though he was having the best time ever. It was weird. This was Max. But Becky just didn’t feel like she could hate somebody who was so obviously such a caring dog-owner. She met Fran’s confused green eyes, and they stared at each other in amazement. Max couldn’t be nice – it just didn’t make sense!

  Chapter Three

  On Monday morning, Becky sat at the breakfast table paying hardly any attention to her toast, or the conversation that Mum, Katie and Annabel were deep in, about what Mum ought to get from the supermarket that morning. She was still turning over Max’s strange behaviour in her mind. Really, she supposed it wasn’t strange behaviour – it was perfectly normal to be nice to your dog. But since when did Max ever behave like a normal human being? That was what was so weird.

  “Becky? Becky!”

  She jumped as Katie prodded her. “What?”

  “For the third time, do we need any cat food?” Katie was looking at her as though she was totally dim. “What’s the matter, anyway?”

  Becky hadn’t told Katie or Annabel about the odd encounter with Max – Katie disliked him so much that it would probably have just brought back her bad mood, and Becky really wanted to avoid that. She hated it when people argued, and Katie had such a strong character that her moods tended to affect the whole house. “Nothing,” she said hurriedly. “I was just thinking.” She caught sight of Pixie, their little black ex-stray, who was slinking round the legs of Katie’s chair in the hope of a bit of dropped toast. She didn’t actually like toast, but she loved butter, and her rough little tongue was very efficient at licking it off. “I was trying to remember when we last put flea-stuff on the cats. And, no, we’ve got lots of cat food.”

  Pixie gave her such an accusing look that Becky could have sworn the skinny black cat had understood what she’d said. Pixie never thought they had enough food. It was to do with being a stray once, Becky thought. Pixie was never quite convinced that the next meal wasn’t going to be her last. The Ryans’ other cat, Orlando, a big ginger tom, didn’t have that excuse. He was just plain greedy, and he had a big furry marmalade tummy to show for it.

  Before Katie had interrupted her, Becky had been gradually coming to the conclusion that maybe she ought to say something to Max. After all, however much Katie might hate the idea, their mum was going out with his dad – they were going to have to talk to each other sometime. At least the episode with the dog had made that seem less of a problem, because now Becky felt she actually had something in common with Max – it made him seem a bit less scary, somehow.

  Not that much less, though. As Becky walked into their classroom when the bell went, she was practically shaking.

  “What’s the
matter?” asked Fran curiously. “You look all trembly. Are you ill?” she added in a worried voice.

  “No,” Becky muttered. “I’m just trying to make myself say hello to Max. Ask him about his dog maybe. With all that stuff I told you about my mum and his dad, it’s just stupid not to talk to each other.”

  Fran nodded, but slowly, and she didn’t look quite convinced. She wasn’t really sure this was a good idea – not for shy Becky anyway. Still, she certainly wasn’t going to stop her. What she was going to do was make sure she was there too, in case Max didn’t share Becky’s good intentions… She followed the determined little figure of her friend over to the other side of the room, where Max was sitting on his own reading a football magazine. He seemed to have had a bust-up with his mate Ben – certainly they didn’t sit together much any more.

  “Hi Max,” said Becky, but so nervously it came out in a whisper.

  Max looked up, and immediately scowled at her. “What do you want?” he snapped.

  Becky tried to stay calm. After all, she reasoned to herself, if Max had unexpectedly come to say something nice to her, she would probably have reacted in just the same way. She smiled at him, and ploughed on. “Me and Fran saw you in the park yesterday. With your dog – he’s really cute! Have you had him long? I didn’t know you had a dog.” She stammered to a halt. Max’s angry, white face was not exactly giving her the impression that he wanted to swap pet-care tips.

  Max shoved his chair back with a snarl that made everyone else in the class look round in surprise, and Fran move in shoulder to shoulder with Becky.

  “What’s it to you?” he growled furiously at Becky. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden? You needn’t think I’m going to be all friendly with you just because your stupid mother’s trying to cosy up to my dad.” He was looming over her angrily, and Becky cowered. She hadn’t really expected him to be all sweetness and light, but she certainly hadn’t been ready for this ferocious attack. It looked like Max and Katie felt pretty much the same about the whole parents dating thing…