The Bed and Breakfast Star (6 page)

I thought a family room would have room for a family. Something like this:

Only room 608 wasn’t quite how I’d imagined. It was a bit cramped to say the least. And by the time we’d squeezed inside with all our stuff, we couldn’t even breathe without bumping into each other.

‘Home sweet home,’ said Mum, and she burst into tears.

‘Don’t start on the waterworks,’ said Mack. ‘Come on, hen, it’s not as bad as all that.’

‘It’s worse,’ said Mum, trying to swallow her sobs. It sounded as if she was clucking. Like a hen. Mack calls her that when he’s trying to be nice. And he sometimes calls Pippa ‘Ma Wee Chook’, which is probably Scottish for chick. Hank is too big and barging about to be a chick. He’s more like a turkey. I don’t get called anything. I am not part of Mack’s personal farmyard.

I stepped over all our stuff and climbed across a bed or two and made it to the window. It was probably a good thing it had bars, especially with Hank starting to pull himself up. He’d be able to climb soon and he’s got so little sense he’d make for the window first thing. But I didn’t like the bars all the same. It felt as if we were all in a cage.

It wasn’t just us and our family. We could hear the people in room 607 having an argument. And the people in room 609 had their television on so loudly it made our room buzz with the conversation. The people underneath us in room 508 were playing heavy-metal music and the floor bumped up and down with the beat. At least the sixth floor was the top floor, so there was no-one up above us making a racket.

‘It’s bedlam,’ said Mum.

Bedlam is some old prison place where they put mad people, but it made me think of beds. I flopped down on to one of the single beds. It gave a creak and a groan. I didn’t bounce a bit on this bed. I just juddered to a halt. Bed number seven was a disappointment.

I tried the other single bed, just in case that was better. It was worse. The mattress sagged right down through the bedsprings. I set them all jangling as I jumped on.

‘Elsa! Will you quit that!’ Mack yelled.

‘I was just trying out my bed, that’s all. Sussing out where we’re all going to sleep.’ I decided to crack a bed joke to cheer us all up. ‘Hey, where do baby apes sleep?’

‘Give it a rest, Elsa, eh?’ Mum sniffed.

‘No, listen, it’s good this one, really. Where do baby apes sleep? Can’t you guess? Baby apes sleep in apricots.’ I waited. They didn’t even titter. ‘
Apricots
,’ I said clearly, in case they hadn’t got it first time round.

‘Sh! Keep your voice down. Everyone can hear what you’re saying,’ said Mum.

‘Then why isn’t everybody laughing?’ I said. ‘Look, don’t you get it? Baby apes . . .’

“That’s
enough
!’ Mack thundered. ‘Button that lip.’

Honestly!

Then I had to unbutton, because I’d just thought of something.

‘What about Hank? There isn’t a bed for him,’ I said.

We all looked round the room, as if a bed might suddenly appear out of nowhere.

‘This will be Hank’s little bedroom in here,’ said Pippa, opening a cupboard door that stuck right out into the room, taking up even more of the space. It wasn’t another bedroom. It was the shower and the loo and the washbasin, all cramped in together.

‘We’re going to be able to save time, you know. I reckon you could sit on the loo and clean your teeth and stick your feet in the shower all at the same time,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a try, eh?’

‘Look, come out of there, Elsa, and stop mucking about,’ said Mum. ‘This is ridiculous. Where
is
Hank going to sleep?’

‘I’ll go downstairs and tell them we’re needing another bed,’ said Mack.

‘Yes, but where are we going to put it?’ said Mum. ‘There’s no room to move as it is.’

‘Maybe we’ll have to take it in turns to move,’ I said. ‘You and Mack could stand in the shower while Pippa and Hank and I play for a bit, and then you could yell “All change” and we’ll cram into the shower and you two could walk round and round the beds for a bit of exercise.’

I thought it an extremely sensible idea but they didn’t think so.

‘You’ll be the one standing in the shower if you don’t watch it,’ said Mack. ‘And the cold water will be on too.’ He laughed. That’s
his
idea of a joke.

He went all the way downstairs to tackle the big lady about another bed. Mum sat on the edge of the double bed, staring into space. Her eyes were watery again. She didn’t notice when Hank got into her handbag and started licking her lipstick as if it was an ice lolly. I grabbed him and hauled him into the tiny shower space to mop him up a bit. The hot water tap in the basin was only lukewarm. I tried the shower to see if that had any hot. I couldn’t work out how to switch it on. Pippa squeezed in too to give me a hand. I suddenly found the right knob to turn. I turned it a bit too far actually.

Mack’s joke came true. It wasn’t very funny. But at least we all got clean. Our clothes had a quick wash too. I dried us as best I could. I thought Mum might get mad but she didn’t say a word. She just went on staring, as if she was looking right through the wall into room 607. They were still having their argument. It was getting louder. They were starting to use a lot of rude words.

‘Um!’ said Pippa, giggling.

Mack came storming back and he was mumbling a lot of rude words too. The hotel management didn’t supply beds for children under two.

‘Hank will have to go back in his cot,’ he said, and he started piecing the bits of the old duck cot together again.

‘But it’s falling to bits now. And Hank’s so big and bouncy. He kept thumping and jumping last time he was in it. He’ll smash it up in seconds,’ I said.

‘And that’s not Hank’s cot any more. It’s my Baby Pillow’s bed,’ said Pippa indignantly.

‘Baby Pillow will have to sleep with you, my wee chook,’ said Mack.

‘But he won’t like that. Baby Pillow will cry and kick me,’ said Pippa.

‘Well, you’ll just have to cry and kick him back,’ said Mack, reaching out and giving her a little poke in the tummy. He noticed her T-shirt was a little damp.

‘Here, how come you’re soaking wet?’ said Mack, frowning.

I held my breath. If Pippa told on me I wouldn’t half be for it. Yes, for it. And five it and six it too.

But Pippa was a pal. She just mumbled something about splashing herself, so Mack grunted and got on with erecting the duck cot for Hank. I gratefully helped Pippa find Baby Pillow and all his things from one of the black plastic rubbish bags we’d carted from our old house.

My sister Pippa is crackers. Mack was always buying her dolls when he was in work and we were rich. All the different Barbies, My Little Ponies, those big special dolls that walk and talk and wet, but Pippa’s only ever wanted Baby Pillow. Baby Pillow got born when Mum had Hank. Pippa started carting this old

pillow round with her, talking to it and rocking it as if it were a baby. He’s rather a backward baby if he’s as old as Hank, because he hasn’t started crawling yet. If I’m feeling in a very good mood I help Pippa feed Baby Pillow with one of Hank’s old bottles and we change his old nappy and bundle him up into an old nightie and then we tuck him up in the duck cot and tell him to go to sleep. I generally make him cry quite a bit first and Pippa has to keep rocking him and telling him stories.

‘We won’t be able to play our game if Hank’s got to go in the duck cot,’ Pippa grumbled.

But when Mack had got the cot standing in the last available spot of space and we tried stuffing Hank into his old baby bed, Hank himself decided this just wasn’t on. He howled indignantly and started rocking the bars and cocking his leg up, trying to escape.

‘He’ll have that over in no time,’ said Mack. ‘So what are we going to do, eh?’

He looked over at Mum. She was still staring into space. She was acting as if she couldn’t hear Mack or even Hank’s bawling.

‘Mum?’ said Pippa, and she clutched Baby Pillow anxiously.

‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, and I went and shook her shoulder. She wasn’t crying any more. This was worse. She didn’t even take any notice of me.