The Friends Forever Collection

Gran doesn’t really give me birthday presents any more. It’s Mum who buys the book tokens and then guides Gran’s hand as she signs the birthday card. But we both pretend. I always give Gran a big kiss and say thank you. Maybe somewhere deep inside she knows what it’s for.

The phone was ringing as we got back home. It was Annie, all bright and bubbling. She is always bright and bubbling.

“Hey! Guess what?” she went. “I think I know what your birthday prezzie’s going to be!”

I said, “What? What?”

“Can’t tell you! I’m still arranging it. But it’s something you’re absolutely going to love.”

I went, “Hm!” thinking that if it was anything gluey I wouldn’t use it. I didn’t care how much it hurt Annie’s feelings. I didn’t want my eyes swelling up again! I looked like a football that’d been kicked by David Beckham.

“I’ve been speaking to you-know-who,” said Annie.

I squeaked, “Lori? You’ve been speaking to Lori again?”

“For ages!”

Now I’d gone all green and jealous.

“What did you speak about?”

“’Bout you.”

“About me? What did you say?”

“Tell you tomorrow! It’s so exciting!”

“What? What is?”

“What we’ve been speaking about!”

“Annieeeee! Tell me!”

But she wouldn’t. She just giggled, and bounced the phone back down. I went into the kitchen and said, “Mum, I’m so envious! I can’t help it.”

“Envious of what?” said Mum.

“Envious of Annie! She’s been talking—” I took a breath “— to Harriet Chance’s daughter!”

“Oh, my goodness,” said Mum. “Where did she meet her?”

“In a bookroom. On the Internet.” I could already see the frown lines gathering on Mum’s forehead. Hastily, I gabbled on. “It’s this special site, just for bookworms. That’s what it’s called … Bookworms.”

“I see.” Mum smiled. The frown lines had disappeared. Hooray! “Now, I suppose, you’re just dying to get on there and talk to her yourself?”

“Couldn’t I, Mum? Just this once? It’s not a chatroom! It’s educational. All about books. It would be just sooo useful, for my project!”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Mum. “I’ll make you a promise … birthday treat! Next weekend we’ll ask Annie’s mum if we can both call round and you can use Annie’s computer and go and have a little chat. On your birthday! How about that?”

Of course I said that it would be lovely; I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. But somehow I just couldn’t manage to feel enthusiastic. It was something to do with the fact that Mum would be there, and that it was all being planned in advance. Annie didn’t have to plan in advance! She just logged on, and started chatting. She didn’t have her mum looking over her shoulder to check what she was talking about. If I talked to Harriet’s daughter, I wanted it to be strictly confidential! Just the two of us. Otherwise I’d get embarrassed. There’d be things I couldn’t say, if I thought Mum was watching.

“Tell Annie, tomorrow,” said Mum. “I’ll have a word with her mum. I’m sure it’ll be all right … Bookworms in the morning, party in the afternoon. Never say I don’t indulge you!”

RACHEL’S DIARY (SUNDAY)

That Annie! She’s up to something, I know she is. The phone rang this evening and I went to answer it and it was Mrs Hooper, wanting to speak Mum. I thought she was ringing to complain about me making them take a bit of exercise.

Either that, or she’d discovered that old Tubby Scumbag had gone and got her dear little angel to visit a site with her, which would never surprise me. She is certainly up to SOMETHING.

So, anyway, I braced myself for trouble, thinking either way I’d be the one to get the blame, I mean I always am. Leastways, that’s how it seems to me. Of course I may just have a persecution complex, but I doubt it. I don’t IMAGINE these things. Well, but hooray! This time it wasn’t anything to do with me. Wonders will never cease. For once in my life, I haven’t done anything wrong.

All it was, was the little angel’s mum wanting to know if the little angel could come round on Saturday and play with the computer. UNDER SUPERVISION. Natch! Mum said, “I told her that would be all right. It seems there’s some special chatroom she wants to visit … something to do with books?”

“Bookworms,” said the Scumbag.

“Well, that sounds harmless enough. But her mum wants to be there with her.”

“Really?” said Dad.

“She’s read all these scare stories … people pretending to be what they’re not.”

The Scumbag said that didn’t happen in the bookroom. “Everyone just talks about books. Children’s books. Grown-ups don’t read children’s books.”

I said, “So what?”

“So they wouldn’t be able to talk about them,” said my little clever clogs sister. I pointed out that they might be able to talk about Harry Potter, everyone can talk about Harry Potter, but she said Megan wouldn’t want to.

“She’s not into Harry Potter. She’d want to talk about H.C.”

Mum said, “Who’s H.C.?” but at this the Scumbag went all silly and dissolved into giggles.

“I can understand her worries,” said Mum (referring, I suppose, to Mrs Hooper). “Megan’s her only child, and it can’t be easy, bringing a child up on your own … but I do think she keeps her a bit too wrapped up in cotton wool.”

“Or maybe we’re being a bit complacent?” suggested Dad.

“But they’ve got to learn,” said Mum. “How are they going to learn if they’re never allowed to take any responsibility? We’ve already been through this, haven’t we, Annie?”

“Yes,” said the Scumbag, with a big saintly beam.

“You never give your address to anyone, do you?”

“No way!” said the Scumbag, beaming brighter than ever.

“Or your telephone number?”

“Mum, I wouldn’t!”

“You see? Annie KNOWS,” said Mum. “Poor little Megan’s still a total innocent. She could never be left on her own, she’d get into all sorts of trouble. Anyway, they’re coming round Saturday morning, then you’re off to her party in the afternoon. Have you got her a present yet?”