Читать книгу Iggy and Me on Holiday - Jenny Valentine - Страница 5

The whole house was turned upside down because we were packing for our holiday at the seaside. All of our rooms were a bit of a mess. Mum was making sandwiches for the journey. Dad couldn’t find anything.

“Where are my trunks?” he said.

Iggy giggled. “Trunks,” she said. “They belong to elephants.”

“Well,” Dad said. “The particular elephant they belong to is me,” and he swung his arm in front of his face like a real trunk and chased Iggy across the landing. Iggy squealed and snorted and jumped.

Mum shouted from downstairs, “What’s that stomping noise?”

“Elephants!” said Dad and Iggy, together.

“Elephants?” Mum said. “Are they coming on holiday with us?”

I said, “Only if they can find their swimming trunks.”

“Oh,” said Mum, “I see,” and she winked at me from the bottom of the stairs.

“Left hand drawer,” she called to Dad. “I thought elephants never forget.”

“Oh,” said Dad. “Thanks. This elephant did.”

We had a rucksack each to put our things in. Iggy’s was red with white squiggles on it, and mine was blue. Barnaby the bear had his own little brown suitcase with his clothes and his camera in. Iggy had to look after him for the whole summer and take his picture wherever we were. It was the very important holiday job her teacher Rwaida had given her.

I learned all about packing at school. We had a picture of an empty suitcase and we had to draw what we would pack if we had to leave home one day in a hurry. Our teacher said we had to think really hard about what we didn’t want to leave behind. She said games and toys and colouring pens were not as important as passports and underwear and important family treasures.

I put all my things on my bed in little piles, like Mum does. We were going to the seaside for six days. I thought very hard about it. I had six pants, six pairs of socks, six T-shirts, two pairs of shorts, one dress, one pair of jeans and two jumpers. I had my swimsuit and my goggles and my dress that’s really a towel. I had my book and my pencil case and my toothbrush and a pack of cards and some yellow sunglasses and a hat with spots on. I did have colouring pens because you never know when you might need to draw a picture. I didn’t have my passport because Dad keeps it safe and I didn’t have any important family treasures either, but I was all ready to pack.

Iggy came into my room.

“What are you doing?” she said.

She was twiddling her hair. Twiddling hair is Iggy language for I’m-stuck-and-I-need-help. Iggy has lots of ways of telling you what she is thinking.

She rubs her eyes with her fists when she is tired. Her eyebrows turn bright pink when she is going to cry.

She points when she is cross.

Her mouth goes thin and white when she is angry.

She stretches her arms and points her toes when she is starting to get bored.

And when she is excited about something that’s going to happen she does a little dance with just her hands.

“What are you doing?” she said again, hair-twiddling.

“I’m packing my bag,” I said.

“What are you putting in your packing?” she said.

I showed her all the piles of things on my bed.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” she said, and she stretched her arms over her head and pointed her toes.

“Do you want help with yours?” I said.

Iggy shook her head. “I’ve done my packing,” she said. “And Barnaby’s done his.”

“What did you pack?” I said.

Iggy counted on her fingers. “Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger,” she said.

Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger are four of Iggy’s best and biggest teddies. They would fill her whole rucksack in a flash.

“What else?” I said.

Iggy shrugged. “Nothing,” she said. “No room.”

I said, “What about pants and socks and T-shirts and shorts and your swimsuit?”

“I’m wearing them,” Iggy said.

I looked at Iggy more carefully. She was looking a bit lumpy.

“All of them?” I said.

“Don’t be silly,” Iggy said. “I can’t wear all of them.”

“OK.”

“I can only fit four,” Iggy said.

She was wearing four pants and two pairs of shorts. She was wearing four T-shirts and a vest and two pairs of socks. She had her swimsuit on all the way underneath.

“What happens if you need a wee?” I said.

“Why?”

“You’ll have to take all of it off.”

“Why?”

“Because your swimsuit is in the way.”

Iggy thought for a minute. “I don’t need a wee,” she said.

“You will,” I said.

“Ssssh,” Iggy said. “I don’t need one.”

“Have you got your toothbrush?” I said.

Iggy nodded. “In my pocket.”

“Have you got your sunhat?”

She smiled and showed me. “Other pocket.”

Iggy had nearly thought of everything.

“Have you got a book and some pens and a game and a pair of sunglasses?”

“No,” Iggy said. “I can’t fit them anywhere. Can I share yours?”

Just then, Mum came into the room.

“Are you all packed?” she said, and I said, “Nearly,” and Iggy said, “Yes.”

Mum looked at Iggy. She looked at her once and then she looked again.

“Why do you look lumpy?” Mum said.

Iggy smiled like she had a secret she was very proud of.

“What have you got on?” Mum said.

“She’s wearing her packing,” I told her.

“What does that mean?” Dad said, coming into the room behind Mum.

Iggy twiddled her hair again. She took her sunhat out of her pocket and put it on.

Dad looked at Iggy and frowned.

“What are you hiding about your person?”

“Nothing,” Iggy said. “I haven’t got a person. I’ve got Barnaby and he’s got his own suitcase and his clothes are too small for me anyway.”

Mum lifted up Iggy’s T-shirt and found another T-shirt, and then another one, and then another one, and then her swimsuit.

Mum pulled at Iggy’s shorts and found another pair, and four pairs of pants, and even more swimsuit.

“Well I never,” said Dad.

“What happens if you need a wee?” Mum said.

Iggy crossed her legs. “Don’t talk about it,” she said.

“You’re a human suitcase,” Dad said, and Iggy pointed at him.

“No I’m not,” she said.

“At least if you fall over on holiday, you won’t hurt yourself,” he said. “You’re all nice and padded.”

Mum said, “Why aren’t you using your rucksack?”

“It’s full,” Iggy said. “It’s all full up.”

“With what?” Mum said.

“Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger,” Iggy told her.

“The four horsemen of the apocalypse,” Dad said.

“No, silly,” Iggy said. “They’re not horses. They are two penguins and a polar bear and a dog.”

“You’re right,” Dad said. “Yes they are. And they’re not coming on holiday with us.”

“Why not?” Iggy said.

“Because they are two penguins and a polar bear and a dog.”

“Penguins and polar bears like the sea,” I said.

“And dogs like the beach,” Iggy added.

“They won’t like this beach,” Dad said, “because they’re not coming.”

Iggy’s eyebrows went pink. “We can’t leave them at home,” she said. “Barnaby won’t have any friends on holiday if we do that.”

“Yes we can,” said Dad, and Iggy’s eyebrows got pinker and pinker.

“I see,” Mum said.

“See what?” Dad said.

“The problem,” Mum said.

“They want to come too,” Iggy said. “They really want to.”

“Oh dear,” said Mum.

“Barnaby gets to come,” Iggy said, “and it’s not fair on the others. And he’ll be lonely.”

“Never mind,” said Dad.

“Can’t they fit?” I asked them. “Can’t Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger and Barnaby all squeeze in the car with us?”

“No,” Dad said. “They’re not invited.”

“I invited them,” Iggy said. “Please can they come?”

“Not really,” said Mum.

“Why not?” Iggy said.

“They take up too much room,” Dad said.

“We can move up,” I told him.

Iggy grinned and nodded and did a little dance with just her hands. “And they can make themselves really small,” she said. “They squashed right up to fit in my rucksack. They didn’t complain.”

“Here we go,” said Dad.

“Can they?” Iggy said, and I said, “Go on, let them.”