Читать книгу The Person Controller - David Baddiel - Страница 15

Ellie was still fretting on the way home, all the way to their front door.

“But why didn’t we have to pay for it? How’s it going to get here? When is it going to get he—”

“Ellie!”

The door opened. Janine was standing there with Margaret Scratcher in one hand and, in the other, a package.

“What’s this?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Ellie, going into the house.

“It’s a package, Ellie. Something you’ve obviously bought off the internet. How many times must I tell you I don’t want you buying stuff online without asking us …?”

Ellie frowned. “I haven’t actually bought anything off the internet …”

“Well, it’s addressed to Ellie Stone.”

“Hang on, Mum,” said Fred, picking up some ripped-open cardboard, “it’s addressed to you.”

“No, that was something else that arrived at the same time. Which I did order. That.” She pointed to a pile of mail – there was always a pile of mail in the Stones’ hallway, some of which seemed to stay unopened for years – on top of which was a polythene pack, labelled ‘FATANX’.

“What’s that?” said Ellie.

“It’s a corset,” said Janine. “Basically.”

“What’s a corset?” said Fred.

“Don’t you remember?” said Ellie. “We did them at school, when they were teaching us about the Victorians. They’re these horrible tight bits of underwear that women used to have to wear to look slimmer and force their waists to be really tiny. Mum, you shouldn’t have got one of those, they’re really bad, and besides you don’t need it—”

“It’s not for me, it’s for your father,” said Janine.

“Oh,” said Ellie.

“Anyway, stop changing the subject. Where did you get this from?” She held up the unopened package, the one addressed to Ellie.

“I don’t know,” said Ellie. “I haven’t ordered anything. Has it got the address where it was sent from on it somewhere?”

Janine squinted at the package. Then, as if it might help, she extended the arm holding Margaret Scratcher towards it, as if she – Margaret – might be able to spot something she – Janine – could not. “No. That’s odd. There’s no other writing on it.”

“Anyway, Mum, can I have it?”

Janine looked uncertain, but suddenly Margaret Scratcher made her move.

Janine Stone was always, day and night, holding Margaret Scratcher. Ellie and Fred would sometimes wonder how the cat ever went for a wee or a poo, since, apart from when feeding, their mother always seemed to have her lying across her left arm. What wasn’t clear was how Margaret felt about it. Well. It was sometimes clear. Sometimes, Margaret would clearly think, What am I doing constantly hanging about on this woman’s arm? and make a bolt for it. Up Janine’s arm and round the back of her head.

But Fred and Ellie’s mum was not one to give up easily. She would grab Margaret and hold her at arm’s length while her paws wheeled about like a furry electric fan with claws, until finally the cat calmed down, gave up and went back to sleeping on her arm.

This is exactly what had just happened. There was a lot of yowling and Janine shouting: “Margaret! Margaret! Margaret! Margaret!” – higher and higher each time – and then she dropped the package.

It was Fred who caught it, but Ellie who said: “Great! Let’s go to the playroom!”