Becky's Dress Disaster Page 6

  Saima drew in her breath in horror when she saw the rat-chewed dress. “Oh no! Look at it.” She drew the skirt out and surveyed the damage, shaking her head. “I didn’t realize it would be this bad,” she confessed to Annabel. “But I’m sure we can sort it,” she added, seeing her friend’s panicked face.

  “I could kill those rats,” Annabel muttered furiously, shooting a glare at Becky. Only the knowledge (drummed into her by Katie) that it was partly her own fault for leaving the dress out on her bed, which they’d been forbidden to do, was stopping Annabel from demanding that Becky move the rats out to the garden shed to live with the guinea pigs. But she still kept making nasty comments about traps and poison all the time.

  When Fran and Megan had arrived, Saima and Annabel called a strategy meeting. The rat-customized dress was on the dressmaker’s dummy and Annabel stared glumly at it. “OK. You all know the situation. We’ve got three dresses, and we need to turn them into something like this.” She brandished the page from the wedding magazine.

  Fran peered over at it. “Can I see?” She held out a hand. “This is really nice! Have you got everything we need?”

  Saima held out a shoebox that was full of little pots and packets of beads.

  “Wow! Saima, these are beautiful. You’ve got all these different purpley ones, and some silver. You could do a fantastic design with these.”

  Fran’s enthusiasm seemed to rub off on Annabel and Saima, and they went into a huddle with a sketchbook, drawing out various patterns, and trying to fit them to the shape the rats had already mapped out on the dress. Annabel had brought tracing paper, and eventually they came up with a spray of flowers and leaves that they all agreed on.

  “And the best thing is,” Saima said excitedly, “that it actually looks better in that random sort of scatter that the rats made. If we’d tried to do it ourselves I don’t think it would be as good. And you wanted beads in the first place. Those rats have done you a favour, Bel!”

  Annabel sniffed. She was never going to admit that. But the design was looking great – now it was just a case of sewing it, and finding out whether they were good enough to make it work…

  Becky, Katie and Megan had been sitting watching. As none of them were hugely artistic, they hadn’t felt like they could add much – they were there to be the slave labour.

  “OK!” Annabel stood up. “Me and Saima will sew the beads on my dress, ’cause that’s the most complicated one with all the chewed bits.” Here she glared at Becky. “We need to stop it fraying any more. Becky and Fran will do her dress, and then when we’ve finished we’ll all do your dress, Katie.”

  “What do we do?” asked Katie, sounding slightly hurt. OK, so she couldn’t sew to save her life, and nor could Megan, but they wanted to do something.

  Annabel grinned at her. “This is where being boringly good at maths comes in useful for once. You two can sort the beads out for us. Look,” she handed over the original flower design, “these are silver, these are violet – you see? All the colours are marked on. You need to put the right beads for each bit in these little bowls.”

  Katie nodded briskly. That she could do. Everyone got to work. Saima had a really cool sound system, and she put some music on to liven things up. Luckily her parents had promised to stay out of the way, as long as they went to bed at a “reasonable” time.

  Becky and Fran started the ticklish job of sewing on the beads, one by one, following the pattern. It was difficult, but fun – and they did look very pretty.

  After half an hour or so, Annabel got up and stretched. “Oof! I’ve got a crick in my neck. How’s yours going, Becky?” She peered over. “That looks nice – but hey, hang on, that flower’s meant to be the lilac colour, not the crystal! You’ll have to undo it.”

  Becky looked horrified – that flower had taken ages – but Fran gazed at the dress thoughtfully, and then over at Annabel’s. She shook her head. “I’m not sure, Bel. I think it would be better if they weren’t exactly the same – I mean, obviously it’s going to be the same basic design, but I don’t see why each petal has to be the same. What’s the point of hand-decorating the dresses if they still look like a machine did them?”

  Annabel looked slightly gobsmacked. Fran was so easygoing that she didn’t often disagree – but Annabel could see she was right.

  Becky grinned at her. “And that’s what you wanted in the first place, Bel,” she pointed out. “A dress that was just the teensiest bit different.”

  Annabel pulled a face at her, but went back to her own dress with no more argument.

  The sewing took a great deal longer than the sorting out of all the beads, and so Katie and Megan were at a loose end fairly quickly. They unrolled their sleeping bags in an out-of-the-way corner, and settled down to chat with everybody.

  “I can’t believe we’ve got to go to lunch with Max tomorrow,” Katie grumbled. “He’s such a little monster, and he’s just getting meaner and meaner.”

  Becky sighed. Why couldn’t Katie see it? Max was only getting meaner because he was miserable. She decided to have one more go at explaining this. She’d read Dad’s reply to her complaining email before they came out, and he’d been really sympathetic. He told her that Katie and Bel had been moaning about it too, and as far as he could see, the only way forward was what she was already trying – getting Katie and Max to understand each other a bit more.

  “I reckon he’s only being a pain because he’s scared,” she said timidly.

  Katie grinned evilly. “Good. The more scared the better.”

  “Don’t be horrible!” protested Becky. “You don’t really mean that.”

  “I do,” replied Katie firmly. “He’s a pig and I can’t stand him. And stop trying to make everything nice, Becky, it won’t work. It’s your fault that I have to go tomorrow, because if it hadn’t been for needing to sort the dresses out I would’ve said no.” And she turned over pointedly to talk to Megan.

  Everyone looked a bit surprised at Katie’s sharpness, and Fran gave Becky a sympathetic look. Becky just stared back at her, lost for words. She’d tried her best with Katie. What else could she do?

  The dresses were eventually finished well after midnight, and they looked fantastic – even Annabel was pleased with the way they’d turned out. The girls crawled into their sleeping bags, exhausted, but triumphant – surely even Auntie Jan would like them?

  Chapter Eight

  Becky didn’t think she’d ever been on quite such a silent car journey. Mum was too nervous to talk. She just kept tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel every time they had to stop at lights. She’d been like it ever since she picked the triplets up from Saima’s, which had luckily meant that she was far too jittery to notice them sneaking the newly customized dresses back into the car. Apart from the slightly manic body-language, she was looking very good – wearing the cardigan and scarf that the triplets had got her for Christmas, but with jeans. Annabel approved – Mum was going for casual but nice, like she hadn’t made too much of an effort. It was just a pity that a) they’d seen the mound of clothes on her bed and knew it had probably taken her about three hours to get that thrown-together look, and b) she was doing it all for Max’s dad.

  Mum had looked thoughtfully at the three of them when they came downstairs from putting all their stuff away and getting changed, and got as far as opening her mouth to say something before deciding it wasn’t a good idea. Becky was fairly sure that what she’d wanted to say was that it would be nice if Katie could have made a bit more of an effort, and did Annabel really have to wear a skirt that short. She herself was wearing a purple flounced cord skirt and a gypsy-ish sort of top, and she didn’t think Mum could find that much to disapprove of. Katie and Annabel were both looking so mulish that most people wouldn’t get past the sulky expressions on their faces to notice the clothes anyway. The reality of Mum and Mr Cooper seemed to have made Annabe
l just as grumpy as Katie, now that she didn’t have the dress drama to distract her any more.

  When Mum finally pulled up outside Max’s house, everyone sat looking at it for a few seconds before making any move to get out of the car. Then Mum turned a too-cheerful smile on them and chirped, “Come on then!” No one moved. “Look, girls, I know you’re not happy about this – but I’m sure it will work out. Really.”

  They looked narrowly at her, even Becky, who was desperately trying to go along with this for her sake, and Mum deflated slightly, and made a big thing about getting out of the car and finding her bag. Then she looked back at them. The triplets huddled together, feeling the need for some sisterly backing-up, as Mum rang the doorbell.

  Becky was convinced she could hear some angry, loud “whispering” on the other side of the door that was Max’s dad trying to get him to open the door and be polite, but it obviously didn’t work because Mr Cooper opened the door himself, and the triplets could see Max scowling in the kitchen doorway, looking disgusted at his dad’s hearty welcome.

  “Right! Come on in and have a drink! Girls! Lemonade? Coke? Juice?” Max’s dad was obviously very nervous too – he was waving his arms around like a mad waiter.

  “Lemonade, please,” said Becky politely, and got death – stared by Katie, Annabel and Max. She wilted slightly. What was so wrong with just wanting people to get along?

  “Something smells nice!” commented Mrs Ryan, still sounding hyper-cheerful.

  Max muttered something that Becky reckoned was probably very rude, but luckily no one could really hear it.

  “Oh good, it’s my speciality, chicken casserole.” Max’s dad seized on this lifeline with both hands and yammered on about the recipe for ages, while Max and the girls sulked as far away from each other as they could possibly get in a reasonably sized kitchen.

  The Coopers had a big corkboard on the kitchen wall, covered in letters from school, useful phone numbers, that kind of thing. The triplets were right next to it, and they couldn’t help noticing a distinctly familiar piece of card. A wedding invitation. Auntie Jan’s wedding invitation, to be precise…

  “Mum!” Katie interrupted Max’s dad in the middle of his description of precisely how he’d chopped the courgettes. “Why’ve they got a wedding invitation?”

  “Don’t be so rude, Katie!” said her mum, sounding flustered.

  Mr Cooper smiled hugely at Katie and said in a very enthusiastic voice, “Your aunt was kind enough to send Max and me an invitation, Annabel. We’re looking forward to it. I gather we get to see you three as bridesmaids?”

  Katie looked at him, contempt practically dripping off her. “This is Annabel. I’m Katie.”

  “Oh! Oh dear, sorry – you’re all so alike.”

  Annabel had kept sight of the important point. “You mean, he is coming to Auntie Jan’s wedding?” she asked, flicking her curls at Max.

  “Not if you still want me to be a bridesmaid, he’s not,” stated Katie, folding her arms and looking at Mum with a stone-like expression. “I put up with all this dress stuff, fittings and that sort of rubbish, but I’m not having him anywhere near me.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t come if you paid me, anyway!” snarled Max, facing up to her. “Why would I want to spend a day with you and your stupid mother and your stupid family?”

  “Max! I can’t believe you just said that – apologize, now!”

  Mr Cooper’s voice was so scary that Becky wasn’t surprised when Max muttered, “Sorry,” immediately, and then slunk out when his dad told him to get out of his sight.

  Mrs Ryan was looking white with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. Katie, I’m ashamed of you – what makes you think you have any say in who comes to the wedding? You’re all three being bridesmaids, and there’s no question about it. It’s an honour to have been asked, and you will go, and you will behave beautifully, whoever is there to see you. Is that clear?”

  Katie said nothing, just kept up her stony stare.

  “I asked you a question, Katie!” Mum snapped, sounding as though she might be about to lose it entirely, and Katie snarled, “Yes,” in a voice that was scarcely less furious.

  There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Mr Cooper suggested, sounding slightly desperate, “Um, why don’t we all go and sit down? The food should all be ready, I think.”

  He ushered them anxiously from the kitchen into the dining room, and muttered something about giving Max a bit more time to cool off.

  The tense situation had made Becky down her lemonade, just for something to do, and now she was desperate for the loo. She nudged Mum, not wanting to ask herself. Mum looked irritably at her. “Jeff, could you tell Becky where the loo is?”

  “Yes, of course, sorry!” It looked like anything could fluster Max’s dad right now. “Just out of here, into the hall, and it’s under the stairs.”

  “Thanks.” Becky escaped gratefully, wondering how long it was reasonable to be in the loo for, and how many times you could go in one meal.

  She bolted out into the hall, and headed for the stairs – but then she was stopped in her tracks. She could hear a murmuring, whining noise. Was it Max’s cute little Jack Russell? She hadn’t seen him yet, which was odd. Suddenly she really wanted to spend some time with something sensible and lovely, like a dog, instead of all these warring people. Maybe he was shut in upstairs – it wouldn’t matter if she had a quick peep, would it?

  She crept quietly up the first level of the stairs – it was a tall old house, and there looked to be lots of them. Suddenly, the whining noise was replaced with another, a low voice talking. Becky shrank into the wall, scared to be discovered where she had no right to be. But the owner of the voice wasn’t coming down. It was Max, and he was sitting halfway up the next flight of stairs, with the little dog on his lap. Becky peered up carefully – she could just about see through the banisters. Max was leaning over, hugging the dog tight, and muttering into his ear, rocking them both backwards and forwards a little. The dog was whining anxiously, and licking the boy’s face, as though it was worried about him.

  “It isn’t fair! You know, don’t you, Lucky? He’s forgotten all about her. How could he? It’s like she never existed. How could he even think about going out with somebody else? We’ve got to stop it, Lucky. You were Mum’s dog, you don’t want anyone else around, do you? Maybe you can bite them all for me, hey?” He sniffed, and Becky wondered whether he was crying. She felt guilty, eavesdropping like this, but it certainly explained a lot about Max. She’d been right – he was furious that his dad was trying to replace his mum.

  She realized that she’d better get back. She sneaked quickly down the stairs, and found the loo – which had sweet Jack Russell pictures in it, probably bought by Max’s mum.

  Back in the dining room the atmosphere hadn’t improved much. Mum gave her a “where have you been?” glare, backed up by matching ones from Katie and Annabel.

  It was a tortuous meal. Once he’d got all the food on the table – and he must have been cooking all week as there was enough to feed the whole of their class, practically – Mr Cooper went and fetched Max, who came down with Lucky. Thankfully, it was a big dining table, and he didn’t have to sit close to any of the triplets. It was Ryans at one end, and Coopers at the other.

  No one ate very much. Max just fed titbits to Lucky under the table, and the tiny dog probably ate as much as all the people sitting above him put together. When Mr Cooper realized that he really wasn’t going to be able to force seconds down anyone, he dragged Max off into the kitchen to help him get the pudding ready. It was pretty obvious that this was an excuse to try and beg Max to behave – or that his dad had realized that it wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone with the Ryans…

  The triplets’ mum grabbed the same opportunity.

  “What on earth is the matter with you three? You’re behaving terribly, and Jeff
is trying so hard to be nice!”

  All three triplets glared at her – even Becky didn’t see how her mum could be so stupid. Mrs Ryan looked at their set, angry faces – especially Katie’s – and then sighed and looked away, as though she’d made some sort of decision, not one she was happy about.

  When Max and his dad came back, carrying a massive dish of apple crumble and a jug of custard, she smiled rather sadly at them. “That looks lovely. Why don’t you four all have some. Jeff, do you think we could have a word?”

  Mr Cooper nodded, grimly. He didn’t seem at all surprised. They went back into the kitchen together. Surprisingly, because neither parent had made dire threats about being nice to each other or else, Max and the triplets felt a bit at a loss. They didn’t eat the apple crumble, but they didn’t throw it at each other either. They just sat and strained their ears to hear what was going on in the kitchen. It was hard to work out what was happening – a very serious conversation by the sound of it. But Becky had a horrible feeling that she knew what they were saying, and Mum’s face when she and Jeff came back in told her she’d been right.

  “Oh! You didn’t have any pudding. Oh dear. I’m sorry, you three, but we’ve got to go.”

  The triplets jumped up eagerly, desperate to be out of there. Mum seemed to feel the same way, rushing them into their coats and shepherding them out to the car – as though she didn’t want to give herself a chance to change her mind.

  They were halfway home when she made a little coughing noise, and then said. “Jeff and I have decided not to see each other any more at the moment. After what happened at lunch – well, it’s just not going to work, is it?” She smiled sadly.