How to Train Your Parents Read online

  FRIDAY APRIL 12TH

  Today I made Theo an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’ll get ten pounds if he lets me copy some of his maths homework (not all of it. I’m not greedy. Just enough to get a B).

  Theo was pretty shocked at first. I said, ‘If you say yes, you’ll be making four people very happy: my mum, my dad, me – and your good self.’ The whole deal was finalized before school started.

  MONDAY APRIL 15TH

  Mrs Archer, my maths teacher, told me I got a B for maths homework today. She seemed a little suspicious. But my parents were ecstatic. Mum looked at the B as if she’d just witnessed a miracle. Dad blew his nose vigorously and croaked, ‘Well done, Louis. We knew you could do it.’ Later I heard Dad saying to Mum in the kitchen, ‘Louis just needed an incentive, that’s all.’

  I’ve started that comedy book Todd lent me: Joy in the Morning. It’s about a really geeky guy and his clever butler, Jeeves. It hasn’t got any actual jokes in it, but it’s pretty funny just the same.

  I nearly called Maddy again. I thought she might have rung me by now. What’s happened to all those big plans she had for me?

  TUESDAY APRIL 16TH

  In the school library today I came across an advert for salsa dancing: ‘It’s fun, it’s different, it’s for all ages. Come to our special introductory course on Tuesday nights.’

  I’m not exactly sure what salsa dancing is, but my dad thinks he’s a good mover (ha ha) and from the pictures on the sheet it looks extremely vigorous, so ideal to tire my parents out. I made a copy of it, and then asked them this evening, ‘Do you like to have fun and keep fit?’ Neither of them answered me, they just looked a bit startled. I pressed on. ‘Well, I thought you might be interested in this sheet about salsa dancing, as a lot of parents at my school are going to it. The younger ones are, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, that lets us off then,’ said Dad at once. He’s always making comments about his age. But he was looking at the sheet with considerable interest. And Mum was watching him and smiling.

  ‘I’ve heard about this,’ said Dad. ‘Someone at work does it. Enjoys it too.’ He handed the sheet to Mum. She smiled as she read it. I really think they might be hooked.

  WEDNESDAY APRIL 17TH

  After school today there was a football match, my school versus another snobby one. The whole place was just crawling with parents.

  I was a reserve so Mum was there (with Elliot) while Theo’s a star striker (yes, maddeningly, he’s a top footballer too), so of course Mike and Prue were much in evidence. Mike even went onto the pitch to give Theo some last-minute advice (‘Just focus, focus’), much to the irritation of the ref, our sports teacher (Mighty Midget – a little man who bristles with self-importance and can throw a strop with the best of them).

  Anyhow, the match began. Rows of parents armed with camcorders yelled at their children to ‘Play harder’ and ‘Tackle the man, not the ball.’ Actually, some of the tackles looked more like assassination attempts to me.

  But it was nil–nil until the second half, when Theo suddenly whacked the ball into the corner of the net. Frenzied cheering from half of the parents until Mighty Midget ruled it off-side. I glanced at Mike. He was swaying about like a stunned bull. Then suddenly he charged onto the pitch.

  He looked pretty fearsome but there was fire breathing out of Mighty Midget’s eyes too. The two locked horns doing all this hissy whispering, until Mike yelled, ‘Ref, you’re rubbish.’ The ref gave this yip of fury and I think in a few more seconds there would have been one almighty blood-bath. But very unfortunately, Spitty ruined all the fun by creaking, ‘Stop this at once!’

  One glance at Spitty’s eyebrow was enough to quell even Mike. Spitty went on to say that the referee’s decision is always final and no interference from anyone else would be tolerated. Then he ordered Mike off the school site. Mike thumped away, telling Prue (who was fluttering beside him in headscarf and sunglasses) that he couldn’t stand by and see his boy cheated of his moment of glory – and that this wasn’t the end of the matter.

  After that, the rest of the match was a big anticlimax. Mike was waiting outside the school gates, slouched against his car like a sulky teenager. A few parents went over to him to offer their support. ‘It’s not over yet,’ he kept saying. ‘I’ve got witnesses.’

  Mum seemed quite shocked at Mike’s antics while I nearly passed out from laughing so much.

  THURSDAY APRIL 18TH

  Met Theo before school for another business transaction. Decided I’d be tactful and not mention his dad nearly attacking the ref, but Theo couldn’t stop talking about what had happened. ‘My dad was only standing up for me,’ he said proudly. ‘He’d do anything for me. Anything.’

  In the evening Mike padded round to chat to my parents. He said that he’d been summoned to the school this afternoon and they’d told him if he took the matter any further Theo would be dropped from the team.

  ‘If that isn’t a case of out-and-out blackmail, I don’t know what is,’ he cried. ‘And then,’ he added indignantly, ‘they had the nerve to accuse me of poor gamesmanship. Me, who’s helped raise thousands of pounds for that school’s new gymnasium.’

  The school also made him write a letter of apology to Mighty Midget. ‘Hard to do,’ said Mike, ‘when really I just wanted to knock him into the middle of next week. Well, what father wouldn’t?’

  As he said this he screwed up his face and bunched his hands into fists. It was dead fascinating to watch, although I noticed Dad gazing at him with some alarm.

  Anyway, in the middle of all this the phone went. Mum answered and it was Maddy! Heard Mum telling Dad and Mike, ‘A girl’s just rung up for Louis.’ She couldn’t have sounded more amazed if a Martian had called to converse with me.

  I was chuffed Maddy had contacted me but felt a bit shy. ‘Hi, how are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Yeah, fine, thanks.’ She sounded shy too. ‘I’ve got an audition for you on television.’

  ‘Wow.’ I was dead impressed.

  ‘It’s a new talent show for children. I’ve got all the details and the entry form. Maybe we could meet up soon.’

  ‘Definitely. How about your house tomorrow?’

  She lowered her voice. ‘Well, the thing is, my house is going to be a bit crowded tomorrow. My sisters have got some friends round and they’ll just take over the whole place – as usual.’

  ‘Come round to mine then. You can have your tea here as well, if you like.’

  She did like – and we arranged it all. Later I told my parents that Maddy would be coming for tea tomorrow. Of course they assumed she was a sort of girlfriend (I didn’t explain about her being my agent as they’d never understand that) and they were at my throat with a hundred questions. It made a nice change from them asking me about school work, I suppose. But they never stopped making stupid suggestions. Even when I thought I was safe in bed Mum popped her head round the door. ‘Have you remembered to brush your teeth? Girls don’t like it if your breath smells, you know.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mum,’ I muttered, through clenched teeth.

  FRIDAY APRIL 19TH

  Got another B today for maths. A lump formed in Dad’s throat, and for one grisly moment I actually thought he was going to start blubbing. ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ he whispered. ‘I knew once you found your feet . . . Well done, Louis.’ Then he handed over another twenty pounds (which of course I’ll split with Theo).

  Mum thought it would be nice if I wore ‘my best suit for Maddy’. The one that only gets dug out for weddings and funerals or when I’m visiting ninety-year-old great-aunts on Bank Holiday Monday. The one I look a total geek in. So, of course, perfect to wear when Maddy calls.

  I selected some casual (but smart) clothes, messed about with my hair, explained to my mum why I couldn’t be wearing a tie and sprayed a few gallons of Dad’s smellies under my armpits.

  As soon as they saw me both my parents held their noses and started laughing for some obscure reas
on. Then Mum kept on looking out of the window. I hadn’t been nervous until she started doing that.

  Maddy arrived on the dot of six o’clock, holding a large cake. ‘Mum said I had to bring one of her cakes,’ she explained. ‘It’s probably disgusting and I nearly threw it in the hedge.’ We didn’t get a chance to say any more as my mum insisted on giving Maddy a little tour of the house. Don’t ask me why. It wasn’t as if Maddy was thinking of buying it.

  Then Dad joined in the fun by asking Maddy the same questions Mum had asked her ten minutes before. While Elliot kept running into our legs and giggling, before running off again.

  Maddy and I did get to eat on our own in the dining room. But even then Mum kept bringing in things and lingering. I longed to call out, ‘You’ve brought the refreshments, now clear off.’

  But at last there were a few parentless moments. Maddy waved this newspaper at me called the Stage, which I’d never heard of but which she reads every week. On the back page was this large advert.

  TOMORROW’S STARS

  HAVE YOU GOT A CHILD BURSTING WITH

  TALENT?

  CAN YOUR CHILD SING, DANCE, ACT, TELL

  JOKES, JUGGLE?

  IS HE OR SHE AGED BETWEEN TEN AND

  FOURTEEN?

  THEN HERE’S YOUR CHILD’S CHANCE TO

  APPEAR ON A MAJOR NEW SATELLITE SHOW.

  EACH CHILD WILL HAVE FORTY-FIVE

  SECONDS TO DEMONSTRATE HIS OR HER

  TALENT AT OPEN AUDITIONS TO BE HELD ON

  MONDAY 29th APRIL AT THE

  ROBSON THEATRE AT 10 A.M.

  So here it was, my big chance. I’ve always wanted to be on TV – and now it really might happen. Of course forty-five seconds wasn’t very long. I’d have to prepare my act very carefully. But I could do that all right and Maddy said she’d help me.

  Can’t tell you how excited we both were. Then Maddy dealt with the practical things like where was the Robson Theatre? Well, she’d already found it on the map. It was in Covent Garden in London. She also pointed out the message in small print at the bottom of the advert. ‘All children must be accompanied by an adult.’ So my mum will have to toddle along too. But I’m sure she’ll support me in something as life-changing as this. Just have to pick the right moment to ask her.

  SATURDAY APRIL 20TH

  Big surprise this morning. My relics gave me a mobile phone. I’ve wanted one for centuries, but they’ve always turned me down, claiming it was ‘just an extravagant fashion accessory’. But now, suddenly, they’ve got me one. They said it was an extra reward for all my hard work at school.

  While they were in such a good mood I also told them about the TV audition. Aren’t parents weird? They get all excited about a maths grade but something like this – my chance of fame and fortune – they’re decidedly iffy about.

  ‘We’re not sure if it’s the right time for you,’ frowned Mum. ‘You’re just getting a grip on your studies and this could unsettle you again.’

  ‘Oh no it won’t,’ I said. ‘If I do well there it will give me extra confidence – and make me a megastar, as well.’

  They did both smile at that and Dad said jokingly, ‘But could you cope with being mobbed in Tesco?’

  ‘Oh, I get mobbed in there now,’ I grinned.

  I’m pretty certain Mum will take me. I’ve just got to make sure I stay in my parents’ good books for the next week. So I’m being toe-curlingly nice and helpful. Also asked them again about salsa dancing. Mum said she thinks they will look in on Tuesday night.

  Yes!

  SUNDAY APRIL 21ST

  Maddy phoned to ask if I’d told my parents about the audition, and were they excited. To which I answered, ‘Yes,’ and ‘Not exactly.’ But on the latter point I said we had to make allowances as my parents were getting on a bit and their arteries were probably hardening at this very moment.

  I’m doing my very best to keep on the right side of them. In fact, I’ve been smiling at them so much my face aches. I’ve definitely strained my smiling muscles.

  A strange, but true fact. In spite of my undoubted good looks and vast charm, I’ve never been invited round to a girl’s house – until now. Maddy has invited me round for tea next Friday. So, what do you think of that, dear diary?

  MONDAY APRIL 22ND

  Disaster struck this morning at twenty-five minutes past nine, exactly. That was when I heard about the surprise maths test. The surprise will be how few marks I get.

  The whole of my year did this test in the hall to get us used to working in exam conditions. There were rows and rows of identical desks in there. Now I know how a battery hen feels. After about half an hour of this torture I decided the safest plan would be to get out fast. So I let out a couple of pain-racked moans. But the maths teacher, Mrs Archer, just glared at me.

  A few moments later I gave this really piteous cry and whimpered, ‘Has it suddenly gone very dark in here?’

  Unfortunately, a few of the boys, including Theo, started giggling. That’s the trouble when you’re known as a comedian, people laugh at you even when you’re playing a deeply tragic scene, as I was then. But anyway, my cries finally stirred Mrs Archer. ‘What’s the matter?’ she snapped.

  I fluttered my eyes a bit and cried, ‘I’ve got a splitting headache.’

  ‘Have you really?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I have.’

  At this point Theo started tittering again. And Mrs Archer snarled that if I disrupted the exam any more I’d be sent straight to Spitty (only she didn’t call him Spitty, of course).

  I was outraged by her deeply uncaring attitude. It would have served her right if I’d dropped dead on the spot. Then she’d have been in big trouble. But I really didn’t want another encounter with Spitty, so I just moaned softly for the rest of the exam.

  When I left I stayed in character (as Todd had taught me) and staggered towards the door. But Mrs Archer just shook her head and sighed, ‘Oh Louis, you’re your own worst enemy, you know.’

  I really hate her. And she’s got a face like a halibut. But anyway, it’ll take her a few days to mark all those papers. And maths tests are of minor importance when you’re about to be discovered.

  TUESDAY APRIL 23RD

  I still can’t believe what happened today. After another very long day at school I left to find it was bucketing down with rain. Then this car beeped at me, and there was my old mum.

  I thought, She’s dropped Elliot off at French Club and now she’s meeting me to stop me getting wet. What a really kind gesture. But as soon as I got in the car there was a definite atmosphere. Mum asked me how my day was but I sensed she wasn’t really listening to the answer.

  Once we got out of the school car park she said, ‘I’ve just been talking to your maths teacher, Mrs Archer.’

  That gave me a shock all right. ‘I was summoned to the school to talk about your maths test,’ she continued.

  I tried to give a nonchalant shrug, which is not easy when you’re wearing a seat belt.

  ‘You only got thirty-two per cent.’

  Well, I was furious. How dare Mrs Archer have marked my paper already. I bet she marked it first, too. Talk about picking on people.

  ‘Your teacher doesn’t understand,’ said Mum, ‘how you’ve been getting such high marks for homework and yet did so badly in this test. She wondered if someone was helping you.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘She thinks Theo has been doing your homework for you.’

  All at once I was in a very tight corner. What should I do? For a moment I just sat there listening to the windscreen wipers smacking about. Then I decided the best way was to spare my parents all the gory details and deny everything. So I did. And I acted very outraged. Again, Todd’s drama lessons helped me, as I really focused on the emotion I wanted to portray.

  I also told Mum how ill I’d felt in the exam room. She figured I’d had an attack of nerves and by the time we arrived home she was practically apologizing to me.


  Afterwards, I sat in my room, shaking with relief. I’d dodged that bullet all right. And I was still on the best of terms with my parents. Just had to keep it that way until next Monday’s audition.

  But later this evening the phone rang. Mum was ages talking to someone. And her voice just went lower and lower. Dad, who’d been on patrol in my bedroom, slipped downstairs and didn’t come back up again either. Something was afoot.

  Then Dad called out, ‘Would you come downstairs please, Louis.’ He and Mum were waiting for me in the dining room. They were both sat at the table. I faced them.

  Dad told me Prue had rung up earlier tonight. Apparently, old halibut features had also rung Prue with her suspicions about Theo doing my maths homework. Prue and Mike questioned Theo and he only went and opened his big yap, didn’t he! Told them everything. Even about me giving him the money.

  I was totally gobsmacked. And my heart sank down into my stomach.

  ‘Is this true, Louis?’ asked Mum, in a really quavery voice. What Prue had told my parents had gone through them like a dentist’s drill. I could see how badly shaken up they were.

  So was I, actually. I just whispered, ‘Yeah, it’s all true, I’m afraid.’

  I waited for Mum to have a go at me for telling her porkies in the car. But she didn’t. She just said how disappointed she was in me, with Dad echoing her. And they both looked totally gutted. It was terrible, the whole thing.

  Of course, Mum and Dad never went salsa dancing either. And that had been looking so hopeful. What a total and complete mess. Really depressing myself now. Definitely time for a joke.

  First candle: ‘What shall we do tonight, then?’