The dad trap, p.19
The Dad Trap, page 19
“Hmm,” I say. “You’re very wise, Jabari.”
“I know,” Jabari agrees, winking at me. “Does it really matter if your design wins, William?”
“That’s what Dad said. I suppose it doesn’t,” I say, picking at my fingers and biting my bottom lip. “You’re going to say it matters that I’ve tried?”
“Exactly!” Jabari says, grinning like I’ve just solved the most complicated maths equation in the world. “Even after all your worries and setbacks, you finished your logo! Look – we fall down. We get back up. We muck up. We make things right. It doesn’t matter if it isn’t perfect, William. It matters that you’ve tried.”
I take a deep breath.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Jabari helps me fix my design on to the Year Six board.
We stand back and I nod slowly.
It’s a silhouette of Jabari and me holding hands. We’re zooming through the sky like superheroes and there’s twinkling stars behind us. It’s just like Ross said he felt when he was with my dad. The words “TOGETHER WE CAN ACHIEVE THE EXTRAORDINARY” whoosh alongside us.
I’ve wasted so much time pushing Jabari away. Feeling like I don’t deserve his friendship. Feeling like I’m not good enough.
But it’s always been me and him.
Me and him, soaring through the sky together.
I don’t want to waste any more time without him.
And I’ve finally realized that’s exactly how Dad feels about Ross.
It’s how they feel about each other.
“It’s a great design,” Jabari says. “That kid on the left looks pretty awesome. Looks a bit like me?”
“You wish,” I say, nudging him.
I smile proudly.
“Thanks, mate,” I say. And then I add quietly, “For everything.”
* * *
I find Florence sitting on our bench alone at break time. She’s wearing a scarf and an orange-and-purple bobble hat even though she’s still wearing shorts.
I hover over her for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other. My legs are jiggling up and down and I’m humming loudly because I’m nervous and what if Florence tells me to go away and we can’t fix all this?
Florence sighs and says, “What is it, William?”
“Can I sit down?” I ask.
Florence wafts a hand at me and says, “Do what you want.”
“Thank you! Oh, it’s cold, isn’t it? The bench. It’s very cold and damp and… Oh, here! I brought in some extra digestive biscuits and cheddar cheese … for you!”
I pass her the biscuits and cheese, which I’ve carefully wrapped in tinfoil. She takes it but doesn’t open it.
“Sooooooo…” I say.
“Sooooooooo…” Florence says.
“Sooooooooooooooooooooo,” I say again.
“William,” Florence says through gritted teeth.
“I did spoil your art on purpose,” I say. “On the first day. And I’m sorry.”
Florence nods. “I kind of worked that out, William.”
“I wasn’t feeling very good about myself, you see,” I say. “I thought the only thing I was good at was art and I was jealous of how good you were at it. So jealous that I tried to nudge your arm – and I ended up spilling water all over your work. It seems silly but … I felt like you were taking everything from me and that everything was changing and … I got overwhelmed. I’m sorry about that.”
“I get that,” Florence says. “I haven’t exactly made things easy for you.”
There’s a pause.
“Is that it? Is that what you wanted to say?” Florence asks.
“Oh, well, no. Not exactly. I … well… Sorry, I’m nervous. I … wanted to apologize for everything. The whole Dad Trap thing,” I say, clearing my throat.
“It’s worked out perfectly, William,” Florence says bluntly. “Our dads aren’t together any more. We did what we set out to do. We got what we wanted.”
“Sometimes what you want and what you need aren’t the same thing,” I whisper.
Florence turns away from me and starts playing with her locket.
“I’m sorry too,” Florence says quietly.
I zip up my fancy new coat, right to my chin, because there’s a bitter wind whistling through the playground, picking up fallen leaves.
Florence looks at me for a moment and then takes her locket from around her neck. She hands it to me, face set, unbothered, like it doesn’t matter at all that she’s just given me her most prized possession.
“Go on,” she says.
I carefully open it and inside I see a picture of Florence’s mum. Her face looks soft and it’s framed by that twisting red hair.
“I miss her,” Florence says. She looks straight ahead and I realize I’m holding my breath.
“I hated them,” she continues after a pause. “Mum and Papa. For a long time. I hated them when they split up. Even though they made each other miserable and they were always arguing, I just wanted them to stay together. I wanted to pretend that nothing had changed and that my family hadn’t been destroyed. I know I was rude when I got here. I didn’t want to be here at all. I thought they’d get back together and we’d move back. I thought they’d miss each other, but…”
Florence stops for a moment and then shakes her head.
“But they’re not going to get back together. They don’t love each other any more. Not like that. But I wanted them to. I just wished everything would go back to normal. That everything would be the same.”
“I get that,” I say.
“But now my dad is just so—”
“Miserable?” I ask.
“Yes!” Florence says. “SO miserable!”
“They’re miserable without each other,” I say.
We both stare at each other, another realization dawning.
“I think they might be falling in love,” Florence says, pulling her hat further down over her ears. “Papa messed up at our stupid dinner thing. He realized how upset I was. He was trying to protect me by saying he was only friends with your dad, but I know he didn’t mean it. He says they need some time apart, but I know he wants to see Ted.”
I sit quietly for a bit and think.
Now, I know I’m not meant to be interfering…
I know I should have learnt my lesson, but…
I can’t let them do this! I can’t let them throw it all away. My dad deserves to be happy. Ross deserves to be happy.
And if I can help with that? If I can do something to make them both happy, then I have to try.
“William!” Mr Dummigan waves at me as he walks towards us. He’s with Delilah, who sticks out her tongue at me. I stick out my tongue back at her and she giggles.
“Remember, no Art Club tomorrow as it’s the school disco!”
“Are you going to be there, Mr Dummigan?” I ask.
“Of course!” Mr Dummigan laughs. He stops and smiles at Florence. “Hi, Florence. Now, Mrs Oliver says you’re very good at art. I was wondering if you might come along to Art Club some time?”
“Oh … erm…”
Florence looks at the ground.
I think back to just a few weeks ago, when I first met Florence. When I thought she was taking everything away from me. My desk. My bench. Drawing and art. Even Aunt Erin and, with Ross, my dad.
But I think she was scared and lonely and just wanted to try and make the best of things – to try and start a new life here.
“You should come,” I say. “It’s fun.”
Florence looks at me in surprise. “You really want me to?”
I roll my eyes and nod.
“I thought you were just hanging out with me because of the Dad Trap… That you didn’t really want to be friends. That’s why I’ve been ignoring you,” she mumbles.
“Ah, Agent Roberts, you need to work on your detecting skills. Will you just come to Art Club with me?”
“OK, I’ll think about it,” Florence says. She’s blushing. “Maybe I’ll come next week.”
“Come on, Mr Dum Dum,” Delilah says impatiently. “We look at pictures now.”
Mr Dummigan laughs.
“Yes, sorry, Delilah. Delilah wants to look at all the designs for the logo competition again.”
“Oh, what did you draw, Delilah?” I ask, leaning forward.
“It’s secret! Surprise! Can’t tell you!” she says, shaking her head and wagging her finger at me.
“Of course!” I say, laughing.
Delilah looks at me for a moment, smiles and then says, “Bye, bye. We play cats at lunchtime. You Play Leader today.”
And with that, she blows a raspberry at me and drags Mr Dummigan away, across the playground.
“So, I’ve got a new plan,” I say slowly, “to get our dads back together. To sort out what we mucked up.”
Florence looks at me in disbelief.
“You mean after ALL this, William,” she says, “you want to go interfering again? That’s so ridiculous! So reckless! So risky! They’ve told us NOT to get involved!”
Oh.
I’ve misjudged this yet again.
Whoops.
Florence turns to me, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
“Ridiculous? Reckless? Risky?” she says as she upwraps my peace offering. She takes a bite of a digestive biscuit with cheese and then nods appreciatively. “I’m in.”
I grin back at her and say, “Well, we’re going to need to enlist some help, then, because it’s time for us to implement the Dad Trap Version 2.0!”
Chapter Thirty-three
Who Needs Kate Winslet Anyway?
At the end of the day, Florence and I rush over to Cheryl. She’s wearing a zebra-print dress with knee-high leather boots and hot-pink lipstick. I signal to Dad that I’ll be one minute. He seems confused but smiles and nods.
“Hi, Mrs Briggins-Foster-Jones,” I begin.
“William! Flo Flo! Darlings! Call me Cheryl, please! To what do I owe this pleasure? HAARRR HAARRR!” Cheryl begins laughing raucously, like a territorial kookaburra. Jabari told me about those.
I look and see Millie walking out of school on her own. She’s heading right towards us. We haven’t got long!
“Millie! Cooee! Millie!” Cheryl calls, waving excitedly.
I quickly say, “We could do with your help, actually, Cheryl. Our dads … they’ve had an argument and … well, we’ve got a plan to get them back together.”
Cheryl hesitates momentarily.
“It would involve a lot of deception and drama, though,” Florence says.
“And glamour?” Cheryl gasps.
“Oh, definitely glamour,” I say, giggling.
“Glamour? Drama? Deception?” Cheryl whispers, her eyes alight with excitement. “Who needs Kate Winslet when you’ve got ME! I’m in!”
* * *
“You know, I think I’m coming down with a cough… Maybe a headache too. Actually, I feel sick,” Dad says, his eyes shifting from side to side. He flops on to the sofa.
Aunt Erin raises her eyebrows at me. I try and wiggle my eyebrows back at her. It doesn’t go well.
“It’s probably the swimming, you know? The cold water,” Dad goes on.
He’s started swimming twice a week. Says he’s making time for himself.
He makes a big show of sniffing and wiping his nose.
“I need some SWIM-pathy.”
“He talks like he swims,” Aunt Erin says to me. “In CIRCLES.”
“Leave him alone, Aunt Erin,” I smirk. “He doesn’t feel FIN-tastic!”
“Exactly! Thank you, William!” Dad says, closing his eyes.
It’s later in the evening and I’m sitting next to Aunt Erin on the sofa with my legs across her lap. This week she’s dyed her hair a bright candy pink.
“Wait for it,” she whispers to me, winking.
“You know, I don’t think I’m going to be able to help at the school disco tomorrow…” Dad begins.
“Bingo,” Aunt Erin says under her breath.
Dad opens one eye.
“Yep, I’d better text Cheryl and tell her. Probably best I stay at home,” Dad says decisively.
We both look at Dad for a moment and then Aunt Erin grins at me and nods.
“Tickle him!” she roars.
We leap across the room and dive on Dad. He squeals and squirms with laughter, kicking his legs and thrashing about.
“Get him underneath the armpits!” Aunt Erin shouts.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Dad yells, laughing. “I’m going to… I’m going to…”
Suddenly Dad lets out a loud fart and we stop tickling him. He covers his face in embarrassment while Aunt Erin and I sink to the floor laughing and clutching our stomachs.
Dad sits up.
“Fine! Fine! I don’t want to go to the blinking school disco tomorrow night! Ross is going to be there and I don’t want to see him.”
Aunt Erin pushes herself up on to the sofa and sits next to Dad. I do too. I take his hand and squeeze it.
“But, Dad,” I whisper, “what did you say the other day about being brave and living our own lives?”
“I went swimming today, didn’t I?” Dad says with a gulp. “And I’m doing my sessions with Heidi.”
“You’re doing well,” Aunt Erin says, putting her hand gently against Dad’s cheek.
“Dad, listen. I realized something today,” I say quietly, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“That your dad does the smelliest farts ever?” Aunt Erin chuckles, wafting her hand in front of her nose.
Dad shakes his head and says, “They smell of roses!”
“Shh, you two,” I say, nudging Dad in the ribs. “I’m doing my big pep talk.”
“Sorry, Little Squirrel,” Dad says, ruffling my hair. “Go on.”
I draw up my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them.
“I realized … things can’t stay the same for us for ever, can they, Dad? We can’t shut everyone out. I thought that was what I wanted at first, but I was wrong. We can’t watch Death in Paradise every Thursday or eat pasta and pesto every Monday night. You might make up with Ross and he might want to take you out for dinner, or I might want to go round to Jabari’s house. We have to be brave and give things a chance. We deserve to be happy. Even though I kicked a football at Jabari, and even though I was horrible to Florence and Ross, and even though you and Ross had a fight, and even though your farts REALLY stink… Dad, that one is LINGERING!”
Dad laughs and then tenderly takes my face in his hands. Aunt Erin looks at the carpet for a moment and I see her wiping away a tear. I close my eyes.
“You’ve always been brave, Little Squirrel,” Dad whispers soothingly. “Your whole life.”
I smile at Dad.
“And you need to be brave too, Dad, and face your fears.”
Aunt Erin winks at me.
“So … it looks like I’m going to the school disco, then,” Dad says.
“Looks like you are.”
I grin at Dad and he squeezes my hand.
“Right!” Aunt Erin says, standing up and clapping her hands. “All this mushy stuff is making me hungry. I’m going to order in a massive Indian takeaway—”
“Just a korma and plain rice for me, please!” Dad says. “I can’t face anything spicy ever again.”
“And then,” Aunt Erin continues, “we’re going to watch a film together. I know it’s Thursday night but I’m not watching any more episodes of Murder She Wrote or Death in Paradise with you two. Pick a film. Not The Little Mermaid, Paddington! One we haven’t seen before!”
She marches across the living room and just as she’s at the door, she turns and grunts, “Love you both!” and then quickly leaves.
Dad and I hold hands for a while and I can hear Aunt Erin in the kitchen ordering naan bread and onion bhajis and ALL my favourite Indian food. DHAL-icious!
“OK,” Dad says tentatively, taking a deep breath. “We need to find a new film, William. One we haven’t watched before. We can do this.”
He turns on the television and we start searching for something.
“Oh, what about this one?” Dad asks after a while, squinting at the TV. “It’s a romantic comedy called—”
“No way,” Aunt Erin says as she walks back in. Her mascara has been running. She looks like a panda that’s been in a fight. She sits down on the sofa.
“I don’t do romance films,” she continues dismissively. “They’re always soppy and silly and make no sense whatsoever. The characters have no personality and you just know the two lovebirds are going to get together in an impossible, sickeningly sweet ending and … urgh! No! I want action! I want explosions, car chases, bangs, crashes, CHAOS!”
Aunt Erin smiles at me, and I smile back.
So, Dad is going to the school disco.
The first part of the Dad Trap Version 2.0 is in motion and there’s no turning back.
Chapter Thirty-four
Always on My Mind
“Did you brief Cheryl on the plan, Agent Roberts?” I say sneakily. I feel like a proper spy once more.
The name’s Huxley. William Huxley.
“Really? We’re doing code names again?” Florence groans.
“Just go with it, Agent Roberts,” I plead.
“Fine, Agent Huxley. Yes, I did, and she’s good to go,” Florence says, hands behind her back, staring straight ahead.
She’s wearing heavy leather boots and an electric-blue suit with a white T-shirt underneath that says “GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN-DAMENTAL RIGHTS”.
I’m wearing a smart black suit with a white shirt, black tie and black sunglasses.
It’s one last outing for Agent Huxley, although Florence did tell me that I still wasn’t allowed to wear my fake moustache or googly-eye glasses.
I’m humming loudly and rocking back and forth on my feet. I feel nervous.
There’s a lot to get right.
It’s the night of the school disco and it is PANDEMONIUM! Florence and I stand furtively in the corner of the hall. There’s a lot of screaming and excited screeches and the floor is vibrating from Brian’s music and it all feels a bit overwhelming and I’m not sure if I can do this – but I have to.
