Mabel.
‘Can I go now, Miss Smith?’ I whispered. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of her.
I ran off quickly before she said yes. I thought I heard her calling me, but I didn’t stop.
Gran was waiting at the gate, looking anxious.
‘Where have you been, Verity? Aaron and the others came out ten minutes ago. Did Miss Smith keep you in?’
‘Oh, she just wanted to talk to me for a bit,’ I said, hurrying along beside Gran. ‘Can I have an ice-cream?’
‘No, dear. And don’t try to change the subject! What did she want to talk to you about?’
‘Oh . . . nothing.’
Gran sighed.
‘Are you in any trouble?’
‘No, Gran.’
‘Verity? Are you telling me the truth?’
I managed to look Gran straight in the eye. ‘Yes, Gran.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mabel the Mummy
I TRY VERY hard to tell the truth. That’s what my name Verity means. You look it up. It’s Latin for truth.
I can be as naughty as the next person but I try not to tell lies. However . . . it was getting harder and harder with this Mabel-mummy situation. I hadn’t been
completely
truthful about the missing bath salts, or my duffle bag, or my conversation with Miss Smith. But I hadn’t told any actual downright lies. Yet.
As soon as I got home I went charging up to my bedroom to have a private word with Mabel. I shut my bedroom door and put a chair against it just in case. Then I opened my wardrobe.
I wished I hadn’t.
The smell was a lot worse. The bath salts weren’t doing their work. Mabel smelt as if she was in dreadful distress and needed cleaning up. I felt I should ease her out of the duffle bag and attend to her, but when I undid the drawstring at the top the smell was suddenly so overpowering that I reeled backwards. I shoved Mabel in her bag to the very back of the wardrobe and closed the door quick.
I sat on my heels wondering what on earth to do. I wondered and wondered and wondered.
‘What are you up to, Verity?’ Gran called. ‘Are you having another nap?’
‘No, Gran. Coming!’ I said hastily and shot downstairs.
I didn’t want to risk her coming up to my bedroom when the smell had seeped so strongly out of the wardrobe. The smell seemed to have stuck to me too because Gran wrinkled her nose when I went into the kitchen.
‘Whatever’s that awful smell, darling?’
‘What smell, Gran?’ I said, trying to look as wide-eyed and innocent as possible.
‘Verity . . .?’ Gran paused, looking embarrassed. ‘You haven’t had a little accident, have you?’
‘No, Gran!’ I said indignantly.
Gran was still looking at me very strangely.
‘I think you’d better pop off and have a bath anyway, dear – and change your dress too.’ Gran paused. ‘I’ve bought some new bath salts but please be very careful with them this time. Only tip a little into your bath.’
So I had a bath and felt a lot fresher. But the clean clothes were a BIG problem. They were hanging in my wardrobe. When I opened the door a crack and smelt them I knew I couldn’t possibly put any of them on.
I started to panic. I’d have to try to creep downstairs with all my clothes in the middle of the night and put them in the washing machine. But what was I going to do
now
?
I ended up putting on my old fairy costume which I found screwed up at the bottom of my toy box. I hadn’t worn it for a couple of years. It was much too short and much too tight. I felt a perfect fool, but at least it only smelt of old teddy bears.
Gran looked astonished when I lumbered downstairs , wings flapping, net skirts barely covering my knickers.
‘What on earth have you got that fairy frock on for, Verity?’
‘I wanted to play fairies, Gran. Please let me,’ I said, and I swooped about, pretending to be a soppy little fairy.
‘What a lovely fairy! Can I have a wish?’ said Grandad, coming in from the garden.
I had to keep on and on playing fairies. I was still flitting about granting magic wishes when Dad came home – early
‘Can I go now, Miss Smith?’ I whispered. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of her.
I ran off quickly before she said yes. I thought I heard her calling me, but I didn’t stop.
Gran was waiting at the gate, looking anxious.
‘Where have you been, Verity? Aaron and the others came out ten minutes ago. Did Miss Smith keep you in?’
‘Oh, she just wanted to talk to me for a bit,’ I said, hurrying along beside Gran. ‘Can I have an ice-cream?’
‘No, dear. And don’t try to change the subject! What did she want to talk to you about?’
‘Oh . . . nothing.’
Gran sighed.
‘Are you in any trouble?’
‘No, Gran.’
‘Verity? Are you telling me the truth?’
I managed to look Gran straight in the eye. ‘Yes, Gran.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mabel the Mummy
I TRY VERY hard to tell the truth. That’s what my name Verity means. You look it up. It’s Latin for truth.
I can be as naughty as the next person but I try not to tell lies. However . . . it was getting harder and harder with this Mabel-mummy situation. I hadn’t been
completely
truthful about the missing bath salts, or my duffle bag, or my conversation with Miss Smith. But I hadn’t told any actual downright lies. Yet.
As soon as I got home I went charging up to my bedroom to have a private word with Mabel. I shut my bedroom door and put a chair against it just in case. Then I opened my wardrobe.
I wished I hadn’t.
The smell was a lot worse. The bath salts weren’t doing their work. Mabel smelt as if she was in dreadful distress and needed cleaning up. I felt I should ease her out of the duffle bag and attend to her, but when I undid the drawstring at the top the smell was suddenly so overpowering that I reeled backwards. I shoved Mabel in her bag to the very back of the wardrobe and closed the door quick.
I sat on my heels wondering what on earth to do. I wondered and wondered and wondered.
‘What are you up to, Verity?’ Gran called. ‘Are you having another nap?’
‘No, Gran. Coming!’ I said hastily and shot downstairs.
I didn’t want to risk her coming up to my bedroom when the smell had seeped so strongly out of the wardrobe. The smell seemed to have stuck to me too because Gran wrinkled her nose when I went into the kitchen.
‘Whatever’s that awful smell, darling?’
‘What smell, Gran?’ I said, trying to look as wide-eyed and innocent as possible.
‘Verity . . .?’ Gran paused, looking embarrassed. ‘You haven’t had a little accident, have you?’
‘No, Gran!’ I said indignantly.
Gran was still looking at me very strangely.
‘I think you’d better pop off and have a bath anyway, dear – and change your dress too.’ Gran paused. ‘I’ve bought some new bath salts but please be very careful with them this time. Only tip a little into your bath.’
So I had a bath and felt a lot fresher. But the clean clothes were a BIG problem. They were hanging in my wardrobe. When I opened the door a crack and smelt them I knew I couldn’t possibly put any of them on.
I started to panic. I’d have to try to creep downstairs with all my clothes in the middle of the night and put them in the washing machine. But what was I going to do
now
?
I ended up putting on my old fairy costume which I found screwed up at the bottom of my toy box. I hadn’t worn it for a couple of years. It was much too short and much too tight. I felt a perfect fool, but at least it only smelt of old teddy bears.
Gran looked astonished when I lumbered downstairs , wings flapping, net skirts barely covering my knickers.
‘What on earth have you got that fairy frock on for, Verity?’
‘I wanted to play fairies, Gran. Please let me,’ I said, and I swooped about, pretending to be a soppy little fairy.
‘What a lovely fairy! Can I have a wish?’ said Grandad, coming in from the garden.
I had to keep on and on playing fairies. I was still flitting about granting magic wishes when Dad came home – early
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