The little girl

I looked out of the window and sighed. My parents were screaming and hissing into each other’s faces like cats, and my brother was crying because his Werthers sweet had fallen out of his mouth, and he had sticky split dribbling down his chin.

‘You are going the wrong way, according to the map were on Bolsten not Haring Avenue’ screeched my mum.

‘For God’s sake Jill told you we don’t need the map anymore we’ve got a satnav and we are going the right way’ my dad yelled back as the woman’s voice on the satnav calmly told the fuming monster behind the steering wheel to take the next life onto Bolsten Avenue. I stopped listening and carried on staring out of the window as their voices faded into the background. I don’t get the point of holidays, adverts say they are relaxing but for me they represent hell and long car drives in the summer heat. Worst of all you spend the whole of it with your family. My name is Beth Wheen, I’m fifteen years old and me and my family are going on a ‘stress-free’ holiday to the seaside town of Rowfan Bay.

Two hours later our car trundled to a stop outside a sickeningly twee bed abd breakfast with little gnomes holding flowers in teh front garden. I came out of my switched-off mode, startled that the car had finally stopped and looked around. Somehow my little brother Timmy had magically fallen asleep and I noticed how much cutter he seemed when he wasn’t awake. Reluctantly I turned my gaze towards my parents; mum looked drained, tired and was obviously regretting coming on holiday, whilst dad was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were turning white. He was staring straight ahead his eyes hard and un-blinking.

We all stayed exactly  where we were for several minutes and then I silently opened my car door and began un-packing the boot hoping it would spur mum into action which thankfully it did. Her head snapped up and she sprang out of the car, rushing over to help me sating as she did ‘oh Beth thank you sweetheart, I’m so sorry about earlier it was very silly for me to get so wound up, I promise I’ll try and enjoy the rest of the holiday’. I noted how mum said ’try’ which meant that she wouldn’t  enjoy the holiday at all but I still made a weak attempt to brighten her mood by saying ‘its fine mum and at least you were right about the satnav taking us the wrong way’. Mum gave a small smile and said ‘yes’ thank God your grandfather taught me how to read maps properly otherwise we would have been going round in circles on that ring road forever’. Mum smiled as she said grandpa’s name and then frowned at the memory of our journey just as dad got out of the car and called to us ‘Is that everything?’

‘Yes dad’ I called back ‘except Timmy of course’. Dads eyes opened wide as if he’d just found out he had a son and he stammered ‘Oh, yes of course, well I’ll just get him out the car then’. Mum smiled laughingly at dad as he scrambled across the back seat and began to undo the ten different buckles on Timmy’s car seat. Then she called to me and dad said ‘Lets take the bags in then’ which to me is a choir you don’t get any pocket money for and you can’t get  out of doing it.  A few minutes later me and dad both had a rucksack on our backs and were yanking the heavy suitcases up the narrow staircase while mum had sleepy Timmy balanced on her hip and the travelling bag on her shoulder. My arms were half dead by the time we reached our attic room. When Timmy was asleep on the top bunk and mum and dad had gone down for a drink and some food by themselves )I’d said I wasn’t hungry) only then did I throw myself down onto the floor duvet on the bottom bunk and cry myself to sleep even though I had no idea what I was crying about.

© Molly Hale