Ice Lolly

Ice Lolly
Jean Ure

A heart-warming gem of a novel about a very special girl who suddenly finds herself all alone in the world…Laurel is only twelve when her mum dies and she is shipped off to stay with relatives she hardly knows. Her new family don't seem to care about anything Laurel loves, including books and Mr Pooter, her old marmalade-coloured cat.So Laurel decides that she won't feel anything: she'll become Ice Lolly, the girl with the frozen heart. But a special friend and a mysterious letter open up new possibilities for Ice Lolly, and for Mr Pooter…

Ice Lolly

Jean Ure

Copyright (#ulink_60f7832c-55da-579a-a78b-d1a3a63061cf)

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2010 Harper Collins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Ice Lolly Text © Jean Ure 2010 Illustrations © HarperCollinsPublishers 2010

The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

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Source ISBN: 9780007281732

Ebook Edition © MARCH 2010 ISBN: 9780007367948

Version: 2018-06-18

For Tamesha Pria

Table of Contents

Title Page (#uf537367a-3f07-5684-a970-ef465830aa4b)

Copyright (#u543d4a8d-f9c6-5b63-87cf-7aefa32d40d3)

Dedication (#u6edafc95-754f-5e60-b656-d004e8d22b6e)

CHAPTER ONE (#u9c46f33c-41bc-589b-8ea3-80ac36eccb6e)

CHAPTER TWO (#u2a0439a9-6d46-5c7d-ba6e-8f6ba3140ca6)

CHAPTER THREE (#u8e89bb07-32a5-587e-b070-ba9cafea5bb6)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Jean Ure (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_e4b3c438-deb8-503f-af7f-83af71f5e266)

So this is it; it’s happening. I’m sitting here between Auntie Ellen and Uncle Mark in this room that’s called a chapel, though it isn’t my idea of what a chapel ought to be. Chapels should be beautiful, I think; this is just plain and ordinary. Maybe that is what you get for not believing in God. But you can’t be a hypocrite, just for the sake of a stained-glass window. You can’t say you believe when you don’t. Not however much you would like to. Mum wouldn’t have wanted me to do that. She used to say, “You have to face up to things, Lol.” So that is what I am doing. I am facing up.

We are sitting in the front row, which is reserved for family. But anyone else could have sat here if they’d wanted; I wouldn’t have minded. There’s lots of room, only a few people have come. There’s Stevie, of course. Why isn’t she sitting with us? She is practically family. Far more than Auntie Ellen or Uncle Mark, even if Uncle Mark is Mum’s brother. Mum used to say that Stevie was a rock. Even Uncle Mark agrees that we couldn’t have managed without her. Auntie Ellen just curls her lip and calls her “that dreadful old woman from next door”. She says she looks like a bag lady, meaning someone who lives on the street and carries all her worldly possessions in a plastic bin bag. I think that is such a horrid thing to say.

I know that Stevie dresses kind of weirdly and smells of cat, but I can think of worse things to smell of, and what does it matter how people dress? Today she is wearing her best coat that she got from a charity shop. It is dark purple and reaches to the ground, so that all you can see of her big clumpy boots are the tips, poking out from underneath. Originally the coat had fur round the collar, but Stevie doesn’t approve of fur so she ripped it off and gave it to the cats to play with. Unfortunately, most of the collar came off with it, so I have to admit she does look a bit peculiar, especially as she has put on her see-through plastic rain hat. She told me that she was going to wear her rain hat, specially. She said, “You have to be dressed properly, for church. I wouldn’t want to let you down.”

Generally speaking, Stevie doesn’t give a rap. It’s one of her expressions. She is always shouting it out. “Don’t give a rap!” So I am really touched that she has gone to so much trouble. I think that Mum would be touched too, and agree that Stevie ought to wear her rain hat even though this is only a chapel, and a very plain and boring chapel, and nothing to do with church. And I don’t give a rap if she looks like a bag lady and makes people stare. She was Mum’s friend and Mum loved her.

Apart from Stevie, the only other people are Temeeka’s mum from over the road, and Mr and Mrs Miah from the corner shop, plus some of the people from Mum’s office where she used to work before she got sick. I don’t really know the people from her office, as I was only eight when Mum had to stop working. But they all came and spoke to me while we were waiting to come in, and two of the women kissed me. One of the men is standing up and talking. He’s talking about Mum. I am trying not to listen. I know he’s saying nice things, because that’s what people do, but I am not going to listen. I am squeezing my eyes tight shut and concentrating very hard…I am building a wall, brick by brick, like a fortress. Soon it will be finished and then nothing will be able to reach me. But for the moment there is still this chink, this tiny chink, where things might be able to slip through. I have to keep them out!

Auntie Ellen wasn’t sure that I should be here today. She said why didn’t I stay at Stevie’s until it was over.

“Then we’ll come and fetch you, and take you home.”

She thought that it would be too much for me. She probably thought that I would cry. Well, I haven’t! I haven’t even sniffled. I am frozen, behind my brick wall. Like in an ice house, where in olden days, before they invented refrigerators, they used to store blocks of ice, hidden underground, deep and dark, where the sun could not get at them. The ice never melted. So she doesn’t have to keep shooting those anxious glances at me. Mum never cried, and I am not going to, either.

They haven’t brought Holly and Michael with them, and I am glad about that. They have always disapproved of Mum and me. Well, Holly has. So have Auntie Ellen and Uncle Mark, of course, but they are grown-ups. You have to accept it from grown-ups. But I don’t like being disapproved of by someone that is two years my junior. She is only ten years old! What right does she have to be disapproving?

I stop thinking about Holly and Michael and stare fixedly ahead at what looks like a spider crawling up the wall. Do you get spiders in chapels? I suppose you get them pretty well everywhere. But what would a spider find to live on? It is so cold in here, and bare.

Maybe it isn’t a spider. I wriggle a bit, and Auntie Ellen shoots me one of her glances. The man from Mum’s office is still talking, he is saying something about Mum having a wicked sense of humour.

“She used to keep us all in stitches! I remember, one time…”

I scuttle back inside my ice house. I am safe in here. I think of Mr Pooter in his cardboard carrying-box in the car. How long will it be before I can go to him? He will be so confused, he is not used to being shut away. I wish he could have come in with us! I know it’s what Mum would have wanted. After me and Stevie, Mr Pooter was the person she loved best in all the world. Maybe she even loved him more than she loved Stevie. But they would have been bound to say no if I’d suggested bringing him. Auntie Ellen has already hinted that it would be far better if I gave him to Stevie.

“She’s a cat woman.”

The way she said it, it was like a kind of sneering. Like Stevie is old and dotty and mad. Just because she loves cats! She has devoted her life to them. She has eleven at the moment, all of them rescued. Auntie Ellen, with one of her sniffs that she does, said that “one more wouldn’t make much difference. You can hardly move for cats as it is”. I feel good that I stood up to her. Mum would have approved! She wouldn’t want me and Mr Pooter to be parted from each other. But I know Auntie Ellen only gave way in the end because Uncle Mark told her to. I know she’s not pleased. She really doesn’t care about animals.

The man from Mum’s office has finished talking and is returning to his seat. I wonder about what is going to happen next. I have never been to anything like this before.

I have never been to a funeral before.

There. I have said it. But it’s all right, I am safe in my ice house. I am frozen, I feel nothing.