The World's Worst Mothers Read Online Free PDF Page B

in. Emily pulled a crumpled piece of flowered material out of a tangle of towels, knickers and socks. She tried in vain to smooth it out. The blouse had shrunk by at least two sizes, and the soft and flimsy material had gone hard and stiff. Emily sat down on the toilet seat, pressed the damp remains to her eyes and sobbed.
    Her father had given her the blouse as a present on the last father-daughter day they’d had. It had actually been far too expensive, but so lovely. Her father had thought so too.
    â€˜Made in India,’ her mother had remarked snidely, looking at the label. ‘That’ll have to be washed first. It’s sure to be full of harmful chemicals.’ She was clearly annoyed about the blouse because it was a present from Emily’s father. ‘So much money for such a little scrap of material. It would have been much more sensible to buy you a new pair of runners.’
    But Emily didn’t want something sensible. The blouse had been lovely, and now there was nothing for it but to throw it out.
    She blew her nose on a piece of toilet paper and hauled the rest of the washing out of the machine to hang it up in the kitchen. Her mother was always forgetting to take the washing out of the machine, just as she had forgotten to take the fromage frais out of the fridge. Emily loved her mother, but it was exhausting to live with her.
    When she had hung up the washing, Emily sat at the table to eat her cornflakes. That was when she noticed what it said on the back of the packet: Fun and games on the beach. There were pictures of children making sandcastles and young people playing volleyball. Emily would have loved to go to the sea. But this year she was going to have to stay at home again because there was no money for a holiday.
    Emily sighed. If only her mother hadn’t been so terrible, her father would never have fallen in love with this other woman and they’d all be still together. And I wouldn’t have to eat dusty old cornflakes for lunch, thought Emily, just as her eyes fell on this sentence: Wanted: The world’s worst mother.
    Well, if that wasn’t just the thing!

    Sophie was standing in the kitchen stirring a cake mixture. Tomorrow was mother’s day, and she wanted to surprise her mother with a home-made Swiss roll. Her mother was quite a good baker but she’d never had the nerve to try Swiss roll. Sophie thought it wasn’t really all that difficult. You just had to separate the eggs and beat the whites until they were good and stiff and then mix them carefully into the mixture. It looked wonderful, very light and pale yellow. Suddenly a hand appeared and, quick as lightning, a mucky finger was dabbling in the mixture.
    â€˜Nicholas!’ yelled Sophie. ‘Take your finger out!’
    â€˜What’s it going to be?’ asked Nicholas, licking his finger. ‘Pudding?’
    â€˜No, it’s going to be a mother’s day cake,’ said Sophie, raising the bowl up over her head. ‘Now get lost.’
    â€˜But I want to bake a cake too,’ said Nicholas.
    â€˜Why don’t you paint a pretty picture for Mum?’ suggested Sophie, taking the bowl to the counter. ‘Pass me the sugar. It’s there on the table.’
    Nicholas gave her a container.
    â€˜Not the salt, you twit! Just think, if I’d poured that in!’
    â€˜Then there’d be trouble!’ Nicholas giggled and ran out of the kitchen.
    He’d done it on purpose! But Sophie decided not to make a fuss, not after the row there’d been yesterday. Sophie had come home from school and immediately she’d noticed that her bedroom door was open. There was a big notice on the door since the near catastrophe with the sand: Absolutely no little brothers allowed! She’d stuck a photo of Nicholas under the notice and crossed it out with a red marker. Her mother had got into a terrible tizzy about it, but George had only laughed and said, since