Read Online One More Little Problem by Vanessa Curtis - Free Book Online
Authors: Vanessa Curtis
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speeddial on my mobile.
She says she’ll be round in half an hour.
To my amazement mixed with more than a smidgen of horror, Caro gets up early and comes down for breakfast.
‘Thought I’d see what this morning thing looks like,’ she says, tipping cornflakes into a bowl and pouring apple juice all over them.
I’m about to protest at such shocking abuse of innocent corn cereal but then I think better of it. Caro does look a bit pale and unhappy this morning. Her arms are healing up, or so she says when I ask her.
Anyway, I know full well why she’s dragged herself out of her pit at this ungodly hour.
She must have overheard me talking on my mobile.
She wants to keep an eye on Fran.
Fran’s as punctual as ever.
‘Hi,’ she says. There’s even a small smile. It’s a pathetic cousin of the big grin she would have given me once upon a time, but it’s a start.
She’s holding out a warm paper bag towards me.
‘Croissants,’ she says. ‘And there are some clean tissues in there.’
I’m touched.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Come in. We’re in the kitchen.’
Fran’s face clouds over a bit at the ‘we’ part of my sentence.
She follows me slowly into the kitchen where Caro is rolling a cigarette.
‘Oh, erm, hello again,’ says Fran in her posh-girl party voice.
‘Hmm,’ says Caro.
Well – it’s more of a piggish grunt, really.
The two of them sit there in silence while I make a pot of tea and get plates for the food.
Caro brightens up a bit when she sees croissants. Fran has brought four, so that she and I can have two each, but Caro delves into the bag and comes up triumphant with the biggest one.
‘Cheers, Fanny,’ she says, biting off the corner with her small sharp teeth.
‘Fran,’ says Fran. ‘My name is Fran.’
‘Oops,’ says Caro. She eyes up Fran’s pink pinafore dress and white plimsolls.
‘You do look a bit like a Fanny though, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
Fran is bristly and blinking with indignation like a hedgehog pulled out of the groundbefore the end of hibernation.
‘And you look a bit like a . . .’ she starts, but I plonk the teapot down on the table just in time.
‘Tea?’ I say, in a loud bright voice.
Fran and Caro are eyeing one another up like a pair of tomcats.
Any moment now there’s going to be hissing and fur flying. Not to mention huge gaping wounds. Major
Germ Alert
, obviously. There are many reasons I don’t like cats.
‘Yes please, one sugar,’ says Fran. She takes the cup and sips with her little finger pointing out in a delicate fashion.
Caro sniggers and blows a huge smoke ring up into the air.
‘Ooh, tea party! How lovely,’ she says, mimicking Fran’s voice. ‘And will you be having cucumber sandwiches?’
I grip the underside of my chair, eventhough I know it’s not as clean as I’d like.
Fran, you see, is very sweet and posh and all that, but if you wind her up, as well I know, she can go bonkers with rage.
Fran must be trying hard to stay polite because she gives me a tiny smile.
‘How long do you think I’ll be here today, Zelah?’ she says.
Ah-ha! So that’s how she’s going to play it. Ignore Caro. Pretend she doesn’t exist.
Big, big mistakerola.
If there’s one thing that Caro can’t bear, it’s being ignored.
She might as well have ‘I must be the centre of attention at all times,’ tattooed on her forehead.
‘Hey,’ says Caro, tipping the kitchen table up towards Fran so that her plate of croissant starts to slither towards her. ‘I’m talking to you. Didn’t you hear me, little girl?’
Fran lifts her nose slightly and sniffs.
‘Right, Zelah, I’ll eat this and then I’ll get to work,’ she says, ignoring Caro again.
I’m holding my breath now. This is terrible. I can’t eat my croissant because my mouth has dried to cobwebs.
Fran is about to pick up her breakfast and take a dainty bite, but Caro has other ideas.
The croissant, still on its plate, slides off the table
She says she’ll be round in half an hour.
To my amazement mixed with more than a smidgen of horror, Caro gets up early and comes down for breakfast.
‘Thought I’d see what this morning thing looks like,’ she says, tipping cornflakes into a bowl and pouring apple juice all over them.
I’m about to protest at such shocking abuse of innocent corn cereal but then I think better of it. Caro does look a bit pale and unhappy this morning. Her arms are healing up, or so she says when I ask her.
Anyway, I know full well why she’s dragged herself out of her pit at this ungodly hour.
She must have overheard me talking on my mobile.
She wants to keep an eye on Fran.
Fran’s as punctual as ever.
‘Hi,’ she says. There’s even a small smile. It’s a pathetic cousin of the big grin she would have given me once upon a time, but it’s a start.
She’s holding out a warm paper bag towards me.
‘Croissants,’ she says. ‘And there are some clean tissues in there.’
I’m touched.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Come in. We’re in the kitchen.’
Fran’s face clouds over a bit at the ‘we’ part of my sentence.
She follows me slowly into the kitchen where Caro is rolling a cigarette.
‘Oh, erm, hello again,’ says Fran in her posh-girl party voice.
‘Hmm,’ says Caro.
Well – it’s more of a piggish grunt, really.
The two of them sit there in silence while I make a pot of tea and get plates for the food.
Caro brightens up a bit when she sees croissants. Fran has brought four, so that she and I can have two each, but Caro delves into the bag and comes up triumphant with the biggest one.
‘Cheers, Fanny,’ she says, biting off the corner with her small sharp teeth.
‘Fran,’ says Fran. ‘My name is Fran.’
‘Oops,’ says Caro. She eyes up Fran’s pink pinafore dress and white plimsolls.
‘You do look a bit like a Fanny though, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
Fran is bristly and blinking with indignation like a hedgehog pulled out of the groundbefore the end of hibernation.
‘And you look a bit like a . . .’ she starts, but I plonk the teapot down on the table just in time.
‘Tea?’ I say, in a loud bright voice.
Fran and Caro are eyeing one another up like a pair of tomcats.
Any moment now there’s going to be hissing and fur flying. Not to mention huge gaping wounds. Major
Germ Alert
, obviously. There are many reasons I don’t like cats.
‘Yes please, one sugar,’ says Fran. She takes the cup and sips with her little finger pointing out in a delicate fashion.
Caro sniggers and blows a huge smoke ring up into the air.
‘Ooh, tea party! How lovely,’ she says, mimicking Fran’s voice. ‘And will you be having cucumber sandwiches?’
I grip the underside of my chair, eventhough I know it’s not as clean as I’d like.
Fran, you see, is very sweet and posh and all that, but if you wind her up, as well I know, she can go bonkers with rage.
Fran must be trying hard to stay polite because she gives me a tiny smile.
‘How long do you think I’ll be here today, Zelah?’ she says.
Ah-ha! So that’s how she’s going to play it. Ignore Caro. Pretend she doesn’t exist.
Big, big mistakerola.
If there’s one thing that Caro can’t bear, it’s being ignored.
She might as well have ‘I must be the centre of attention at all times,’ tattooed on her forehead.
‘Hey,’ says Caro, tipping the kitchen table up towards Fran so that her plate of croissant starts to slither towards her. ‘I’m talking to you. Didn’t you hear me, little girl?’
Fran lifts her nose slightly and sniffs.
‘Right, Zelah, I’ll eat this and then I’ll get to work,’ she says, ignoring Caro again.
I’m holding my breath now. This is terrible. I can’t eat my croissant because my mouth has dried to cobwebs.
Fran is about to pick up her breakfast and take a dainty bite, but Caro has other ideas.
The croissant, still on its plate, slides off the table
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