Millie's Mum Read online



  MILLIE’S MUM

  David Elvar

  Copyright 2009 David Elvar

  ~oOo~

  ONE

  Millie’s mum is a scatterbrain.

  She’s always forgetting where she’s supposed to be going, she’s always forgetting what she’s supposed to be doing, and she’s always, always muddling her words.

  Most people muddle their words now and then but not the way Millie’s mum muddles hers. You see, she doesn’t just muddle them, she positively jumbles them. She’ll swap words around. She’ll swap bits of words with bits of other words. She’ll swap bits of words with bits of other words then swap those bits with bits of yet more words. It can get very complicated, sometimes.

  Hearing her speak is like nothing you’ve ever heard before. She’ll say ‘mottle of bilk’ instead of ‘bottle of milk.’ She’ll say ‘wottle of bine’ instead of ‘bottle of wine.’ Curiously, though, you will never hear her saying ‘bottle of beer’ instead of ‘bottle of beer.’ Strange, that.

  So that’s Millie’s mum, a mum who muddles and more than muddles her words. In fact, you might even say she speaks her own language. The trouble is, no one else does, and this sometimes makes things rather difficult for anyone she’s talking to.

  But it doesn’t end there. Another trouble is that she is so scatterbrained, she’ll often say something and immediately forget what she’s just said, so it’s like starting a new conversation with her every time she speaks. This makes things even more difficult for anyone she’s talking to. And more than just sometimes.

  There was one time when Millie wanted to go into town to buy a CD, and since she wasn’t old enough to go by herself and since her dad was busy, that really left only one person who could take her.

  ‘Mum,’ she said, ‘can you take me into town?’

  ‘I’m sorry, dear, I can’t,’ her mum replied. ‘I have to clean the broom cupboard. It’s full of cebwobs.’

  ‘Cobwebs,’ said Millie patiently. ‘The cupboard is full of cobwebs.’

  ‘Is it really!’ said her mum. ‘Do you know, I hadn’t noticed!’

  Millie gave up. And she never got her CD.

  There was another time when she was in a bit of a hurry. Her best friend Samantha had phoned to invite her to the cinema and she hadn’t yet had her tea. So her mum had cooked her something quickly from sausages, eggs, bacon and some leftover custard she’d found in the fridge. She finished cooking, set the plate on the table and stood there looking as scatterbrained as usual.

  ‘There you are, dear,’ she said. ‘Get stuck in. Oh, you’ll need a fife and knork.’

  ‘Knife and fork,’ Millie said not so patiently. ‘I need a knife and fork.’

  ‘Do you, dear?’ said her mum. ‘Well, you’ll find them in the usual drawer.’

  Millie gave up. And she used a spoon instead.

  The final straw came one day when her mum picked her up from school. She’d wandered up to the school gates, having first walked through the supermarket, the bus station and the car wash on the way (she really is scatterbrained). Her hair had got rather wet from the car wash (though the hot wax polish had given it a lovely shine) so the owner had given her a bag of sweets to make up for it, and she still had this bag with her when she arrived at the school.

  When Millie finally came out with her friends, her mum had said all the usual things to them like ‘Hi!’ and ‘How are you?’ and ‘Lovely to see you all again.’ Then she’d held out this bag and said:

  ‘Would anyone like a bumhug?’

  ‘Humbug!’ Millie shrieked as her friends fell about laughing. ‘It’s humbug!’

  ‘No it isn’t!’ said her mum. ‘It’s absolutely true!’

  It was then that Millie decided that something would really have to be done about her mum and her muddled words. But exactly what, she didn’t know.

  TWO

  She talked about it to Samantha in school the very next day.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do, Sam,’ she said. ‘My mum is driving me crazy!’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Sam. ‘My mum is just as bad. She’s always getting people’s names wrong.’

  ‘What?’ said Millie, surprised. ‘Even yours?’

  ‘Even mine. No matter who it is, no matter how long she’s known them, she always gets their name wrong. I don’t think she even knows who she’s speaking to, half the time. Tell you what, come home with me after school. You can stay for tea, we can talk about your mum and you can see for yourself what my mum’s like.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come,’ said Millie. ‘This I have got to see.’

  And she went. After school, she went back to Sam’s house for tea and a talk. As they walked in, they heard a voice from somewhere inside.

  ‘Is that you, Pam?’ it called.

  ‘It’s Sam,’ said Sam, pushing the living-room door open. ‘Hi, mum. This is my friend Millie. Hope you don’t mind me bringing her home.’

  ‘Of course not!’ said her mum. ‘Lovely to meet you, Molly.’

  ‘It’s Millie,’ said Millie. ‘It’s nice to meet you, too.’

  ‘Can Millie stay for tea?’ said Sam. ‘We have a few things to talk about.’

  ‘Of course she can,’ said her mum. ‘What would you like for tea, Sally?’

  ‘It’s Millie,’ said Millie. ‘Anything, really. As long as it’s with chips.’

  ‘Something with chips it is, then. How about you, Tam? What would you like for tea?’

  ‘It’s Sam,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll have the same as Millie, thanks.’

  ‘Fine,’ said her mum. ‘Well, you run along upstairs. Tea will ready in about half an hour.’

  They ran along upstairs. As they dropped their schoolbags onto Sam’s bed, Millie turned to her friend.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she said. ‘Is she always this bad?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Sam, ‘she’s usually much worse. But never mind her, what about your mum? You say she’s now always getting her words wrong?’

  ‘Always. It gets really embarrassing, sometimes. I mean, you were there when she offered everyone those sweets, weren’t you? The thing is, she can only get worse. And when she does, I do not want to be around to see it.’

  ‘I bet you will be, though. Come on, let’s see what we can do about this. Let’s see if we can’t come up with some brilliant idea to help…’

  So they talked about Millie’s mum and her muddled words. They sat on Sam’s bed, played music on Sam’s stereo, and nibbled chocolate from Sam’s secret chocolate store. And they talked. But no matter how much they talked, no matter how hard they tried to come up with some brilliant idea to help, they couldn’t. All too soon, Sam’s mum was calling up the stairs.

  ‘Brolly! Marzipan! Tea’s ready!’

  Millie and Sam grinned at each other.

  ‘Tea’s ready, Brolly,’ said the one.

  ‘I heard, Marzipan,’ said the other.

  They laughed and scrambled down the stairs. As Millie sat down at the table with her friend, she saw two steaming plates of chips and thick porky sausages waiting for them. Excellent! Her absolute favourite!

  ‘Would you like some ketchup, Holly?’ said Sam’s mum.

  ‘It’s Millie,’ said Millie. ‘Thank you, I’d love some.’

  ‘How about you, Ham?’ said her mum. ‘Or would you prefer pickle?’

  ‘It’s Sam,’ said Sam. ‘And yes, I’ll have pickle, please.’

  Sam’s mum found the ketchup and pickle, and took them back to the table.

  ‘There you are, Molly,’ she said. ‘There you are, Spam. Right, I’ll leave you to eat your tea in peace.’

  After she’d gone, the two friends looked across the table at each other.

  ‘And I thought I had
problems,’ said Molly.

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Spam.

  THREE

  When Millie got to school the next day, she found Sam waiting for her. And Sam was very excited.

  ‘Millie!’ she cried when she saw her friend. ‘I couldn’t wait for you to get here! I’ve had the most brilliant idea!’

  ‘Have you?’ said Millie. ‘What about?’

  ‘Your mum! She needs to learn not to muddle her words, doesn’t she?’

  ‘She does. And?’

  ‘She needs to learn to speak properly, doesn’t she?’ said Sam.

  ‘She does. And?’

  ‘And where’s the best place to learn not to muddle your words and to learn to speak properly?’

  All at once, Millie understood. ‘Of course!’ she said. ‘I bring her—’

  ‘—to school!’ Sam finished for her. ‘Exactly! Don’t you think it the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had?’

  ‘I do!’ said Millie. Then she stopped and thought about this brilliant idea for a moment. ‘Just one problem, though. What’s our teacher going to say if I just turn up one day with my mum in tow and ask him to teach her?’

  ‘I’d already thought of that,’ said Sam. ‘Just disguise her and tell him she’s your big sister.’

  ‘I will!’ said Millie. Then she stopped and thought again about this brilliant idea. ‘Just another problem, though. How do I even get my mum to come to school in the first place?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Sam. ‘You’ll find a way to persuade her, I’m sure. Come on, time to go in.’

  They went in. All through that day, Millie tried thinking of ways to persuade her mum to come to school. She thought of tricking her in some way, maybe telling her that it was a special day to show parents what school was like for their children. But her mum, she knew, was going to need more than just one day if she was to learn to stop muddling her words, and she would certainly get suspicious if the school started holding more than one of these special days.

  Next, she thought about telling her mum that she wanted to play a practical joke on her teacher, and that the best joke she could think of was to get her mum to play student for the day. But again, she knew that her mum was going to need more than just one day if she was to learn to stop muddling her words, and practical jokes could really only be played the once. In the end, she decided she would just have to tell her mum the truth. It was the only way. Really.

  When she got home, Millie went in search of her mum. She found her in the kitchen just putting the finishing touches to another of her scatterbrained recipes, rhubarb-and-mustard-pickle crumble.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ said her mum as she walked in. ‘Good a had day at school?’

  Even as her mum finished speaking, Millie had a flash of inspiration, a way of getting her mum to school that couldn’t possibly fail.

  ‘Yes, I did, thanks,’ she said. ‘In fact, I had an excellent day. I learned lots and lots, I made lots of new friends and there’s a new teacher who’s really nice.’

  ‘Really?’ said her mum. ‘That’s dice, near.’

  ‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘You know, mum, you ought to come to school.’

  ‘Me!’

  ‘Why not? You’re never too old to learn things.’

  ‘True,’ said her mum. ‘But who’s going to bake the heads and do the mousework while I’m at school?’

  ‘We can make the beds and do the housework between us when we get home. Go on, it’ll be fun wearing a school uniform for a day.’

  ‘Well,’ said her mum thoughtfully, ‘I have to say, I mess the spilling lessons.’

  ‘Come to school and you won’t get the chance to miss the spelling lessons,’ said Millie.

  .‘And my moths isn’t too hat.’

  ‘No, your maths isn’t too hot,’ said Millie.

  ‘Okay,’ said her mum, ‘I’ll come. You’ve walked me into tearing a school uniform for a day.’

  Millie smiled secretly to herself. Her flash of inspiration had worked beautifully.

  FOUR

  ‘Now,’ said Millie when they got to school the next day, ‘if anyone asks who you are, you’re my big sister. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said her mum.

  ‘And if anyone asks what you’re doing here,’ she went on, ‘make up a quick excuse. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said her mum.

  ‘But make sure it’s one that’s going to be believed by a teacher. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said her mum. ‘But why do we have to do all this? Seems a bit dagg-and-cloaker to me.’

  ‘Cloak-and-dagger,’ said Millie patiently. ‘And we have to do it because you’re not supposed to be here, remember? So just keep your head down, do your lessons and everything will be fine. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said her mum.

  ‘Right. Let’s go.’

  They went into school. There was a spare desk next to Millie’s and this her mum took. She looked a bit strange as she squeezed behind it but no one said anything. The whole class knew something was going on, they just wanted to see what that something was.

  Millie’s teacher swept in right on time. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and looked round at them all.

  ‘Good morning, class,’ he began, then he stopped. He seemed to be staring at an oversized student sitting next to one of his normal-sized students. ‘We seem to have a new member of the class,’ he went on. ‘And I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.’

  Millie glanced up at her mum, who seemed to be staring vacantly into space again. She kicked her mum’s leg sharply. Her mum blinked vaguely and stared vacantly at the teacher instead.

  ‘Er…I’m Millie’s big sister,’ she said.

  Millie breathed a small sigh of relief. Her mum hadn’t muddled her words. But then, she hadn’t spoken many words to muddle. It could all still go horribly wrong. She held her breath while her teacher asked her mum another question.

  ‘And what brings you to this school, Millie’s big sister?’ he said.

  ‘Er…my own school’s closed for the day.’

  A good excuse, Millie noted quietly. And her mum still hadn’t muddled her words. But then their teacher was asking yet another question.

  ‘And why is your school closed for the day, Millie’s big sister?’ he was saying.

  ‘Er…there’s a seal in the holing.’

  ‘There’s a seal in the…’ their teacher began, puzzled. Then he seemed to understand. ‘Ah, I think you mean there’s a hole in the ceiling.’

  ‘Is there really!’ said Millie’s mum, looking up. ‘Shouldn’t you me bending it?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be mending it!’ their teacher yelled. ‘Shouldn’t you be mending it!’

  ‘Okay, you only have to ask. There’s no need to get so cot under the holler.’

  ‘Hot under the collar!’ their teacher screamed. ‘HOT UNDER THE COLLAR!’

  ‘Who is?’ said Millie’s mum. ‘You know, I thought I could smell burning.’

  The whole class burst out laughing. The whole class except for Millie. She just sank deeper in her chair and tried to look as if she wasn’t there. As for her teacher, he slumped down in his own chair and sat there with his head buried in his hands.

  ‘I don’t need this,’ he was sobbing. ‘I really don’t need this.’

  ‘You’re just having a bad morning,’ said Millie’s mum, ‘what with hot holes, bent ceilings and collars that need mending.’

  Millie’s teacher looked up sternly at Millie’s mum.

  ‘Look!’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘There is no hole in the ceiling, I don’t need you to mend anything and no one is hot under the collar. Understood?’

  ‘If you say so,’ she said. ‘No nose off my skin.’

  ‘Skin off my nose!’ the teacher shouted. ‘Skin off my nose!’

  ‘Sounds nasty,’ said Millie’s mum. ‘Does it hurt?’

  That did it. Their teacher threw his arms up and shrieked loudly.

 
; ‘NO! NO, IT DOESN’T!’

  Then he ran screaming from the classroom. As the rest of the class cheered, Millie and her mum sat at their desks and stared after him, one faintly puzzled, one faintly embarrassed.

  ‘What’s wring with hom?’ said the one.

  ‘I can’t imagine,’ muttered the other.

  FIVE

  ‘That went well, didn’t it,’ said Millie after school.

  She was sitting in Sam’s bedroom, her friend having invited her back again after their disastrous day.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sam. ‘It seemed a brilliant idea at the time.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so, too. Our poor teacher. I can still hear his screams.’

  ‘So can I,’ said Sam. ‘The ambulance arrived quickly, though, didn’t it?’

  ‘Just as well, really. Do you suppose he’ll be all right?’

  ‘I expect so. Unless he meets your mum again, that is.’

  ‘Unless that, yes,’ Millie agreed glumly. ‘But look, what are we going to do about her? She’s getting worse, I’m sure!’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Sam, ‘and I’ve had another brilliant idea.’

  ‘Is it as brilliant as the last one?’ said Millie guardedly.

  ‘No, this one is even more brilliant. Now, we tried getting your mum to school so our teacher could teach her and that didn’t work, so as I see it, you have to find someone who can put up with her or who is already used to her.’

  ‘Someone who can put up with her. That’s a laugh.’

  ‘Exactly. So what you need is someone who is used to her.’

  ‘I don’t know of anyone. I mean, there’s only me—’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Sam. ‘Why don’t you teach her yourself?’

  ‘Me! Are you serious!’

  ‘Seriously serious,’ said Sam. ‘I mean, you know what she’s like, you know what needs to be done with her, and you’re not likely to rush off screaming in the middle of a conversation with her, are you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ said Millie quietly. ‘She can be a peal rain, sometimes.’

  ‘She can be a what?’

  Only then did Millie realise what she’d just said. ‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘She’s got me doing it now!’