Lizzie Zipmouth (4 page)

We all went out to the pub for Sunday lunch. I don't like proper meals like meat and vegetables and puddings. I cut mine into teeny-tiny pieces and didn't eat any of them.

Jake started messing about with his meal too. Sam told him off.

“It's not fair! Lizzie Zipmouth isn't eating hers properly.”

“I've told you and told you not to call Lizzie silly names,” said Sam. “Eat up at once, Jake!”

“And you eat up too, Lizzie,” said Mum.

I zipped my lips shut tight.

“She's a silly baby,” said Jake, dropping his forkful of potato onto his plate so that gravy splashed all over Mum.

“You're both silly babies,” said Mum. “Oh dear, look at my white shirt! And I wanted to look extra smart to meet your grandma, Sam.”

We were going to have tea with this old, old lady. If she was Sam's grandma she was Rory and Jake's great-gran.

“So does that mean she's Lizzie's sort-of step-great-gran?” said Rory.

I've never had my own great-gran. I've got a granny at the seaside and a gran and grandpa in Scotland but I don't see any of them very often. I didn't want to see this sort-of step-great-gran either.

“My mum and dad live in Australia,” said Sam. “So Great-Gran is very special for me.”

He said it as if special meant
scary
!

“She's OK, I suppose. But she's very strict,” said Rory. “She tells me off if I talk in a slang sort of way. She says it sounds sloppy.”

“She says I
look
sloppy,” said Jake. “She's always licking her hankie and wiping my face. Yuck! I
hate
that.”

I didn't want this old lady telling me off and wiping me. I looked at Mum. Mum looked as if she was worried about being told off and wiped too.

Great-Gran lived in a big block of flats. I hoped she might live right up at the top but she lived on the ground floor. Sam said it was to save her legs. I wondered if they were wearing out. Perhaps they were about to snap off at the socket like an old doll.

Great-Gran looked a bit like an old doll. This strange stiff little lady came to the door. She had very black hair combed so tightly into place it made her eyes pop. She creaked when she bent to hug Rory and Jake. She didn't hug me. She just looked me up and down. She looked Mum up and down too.

“It's lovely to meet you,” said Mum.

Great-Gran didn't look as if she thought it was lovely at all.

“Say hello to Rory and Jake's great-gran, Lizzie,” said Mum, though she knew I wouldn't.

And I didn't. I stared at the doormat. It said
WELCOME
. The doormat was telling fibs.

Great-Gran tutted. “Well, you'd better come in,” she said.

Mum held my hand tight and we stepped inside.

“Dear, dear! Wipe your feet! Watch my beige carpet,” Great-Gran fussed.

But I wasn't watching her carpet. I was staring all round the walls in a daze. Hundreds of shining eyes were staring back at me!

Chapter Four

Dolls! Old china dolls in cream frocks and pinafores and little button boots, soft plush dolls with rosy cheeks and curls, baby dolls in long white christening robes, lady dolls with tiny umbrellas and high heels, a Japanese doll in a kimono with a weeny fan, dolls in school uniform and swimming costumes and party frocks, great dolls as big as me sitting in real wicker chairs, middle-sized dolls in row after row on shelves, and tiny dolls no bigger than my thumb standing in their own green painted garden beside a doll's house.

“Great-Gran collects dolls,” said Rory unnecessarily.

“She doesn't collect Beanie Babies,” said Jake. “Not even the rare ones.”

Sam patted my shoulder. “Are you cold, Lizzie? You're shivering!” he said.

“Lizzie likes dolls,” said Mum.

“Well, I'm sure Gran won't mind her having a look at them,” said Sam – though he didn't sound sure at all.

“She can look, but she mustn't touch,” said Great-Gran.

I put my hands behind my back to show her I wouldn't touch even one tiny china hand.

“These are collector's dolls,” said Great-Gran. “They're not for children.”

I nodded. I was very impressed. I thought I was too old for dolls but Great-Gran was very old indeed and she had hundreds. I knew exactly what I was going to be when I grew up. A doll collector!

I wandered very slowly and carefully round Great-Gran's flat. There were dolls on shelves all the way round her living room. She even had three special ballet dancer dolls on tippy-toes on top of her television set. She had a row of funny dolls with fat tummies on her kitchen window sill and a mermaid doll with a long shiny green tail in the bathroom. The dolls in her bedroom were all wearing their night-clothes, white nighties with pink ribbon trimming and blue-and-white striped pyjamas and soft red dressing-gowns with cords and tassels and little slippers with tiny pom-poms.

“Well? What do you think of them?” said Great-Gran, walking along briskly behind me.

I didn't say anything. But I must have had the right look on my face because Great-Gran gave me a little nod.

“I'd better go and put the kettle on,” she said. “They won't have thought to do it, the gormless lot.”

I gave the littlest doll one last lingering glance. Her plaits were tied with tiny pink ribbons and she was holding a little pink rabbit no bigger than a button.

“I suppose you can stay in here looking,” she said. “But only if you promise you won't touch.”

I did my pantomime of hands behind my back. But this wasn't good enough.

“
Promise
me,” said Great-Gran.

I didn't say anything but I tried so hard to make my face look as if I was promising that my eyes watered.

Great-Gran's eyes were a very bright blue even though she was such an old lady. They grew even brighter now.

“I can't hear you,” she said. She cupped her little claw hand behind her ear. “Speak up!”

We looked at each other. I knew what she was up to. And she knew that I knew. We looked and looked and looked at each other.

“So you're not going to promise?” said Great-Gran. “Come on then, out of the bedroom this instant.”

I looked at her pleadingly.

“What's the matter?” said Great-Gran. “
Why
can't you promise?”

I shook my head helplessly.

“Can't you talk?” said Great-Gran.

I shook my head.

“Of course you can talk if you really want to!” said Great-Gran. “Open your mouth!”

She said it so fiercely I opened my mouth automatically.

“Aha!” said Great-Gran. “There! You've got a tongue in your head after all. And two rows of shiny teeth. So use them, please, Madam.
Now!
”

My tongue and my teeth started working all by themselves. “I promise!” I whispered.