‘MICK’S COMING ROUND on Saturday,’ said Mum.

Skippy smiled. She always smiles. If you told her the Bogeyman was coming to take her out to tea she’d clap her hands and smile.

I didn’t smile. I can’t stick Mick. I don’t see why Mum has to have a stupid boyfriend at her age. She says he makes her happy. I can’t see why she can’t just be happy with Skippy and me.

‘Mick’s going to take us on a special day out!’ Mum announced.

Skippy smiled. I very nearly smiled too. We didn’t often get special days out.

I wondered where we might be going. A day trip to Disneyland?! No, maybe not. But perhaps Mick would take us to the Red River Theme Park and we could go on all the really brilliant rides where you swoop up and down and it’s like you’re flying right up in the sky.

‘Will he take us to the Red River Theme Park, Mum?’

‘Don’t be daft, Hayley,’ said Mum. ‘It costs a fortune. Mick’s not made of money. No, we’re going to have a lovely day out in the country.’

‘The country?’ I said.

‘What’s the country?’ Skippy asked.

‘It’s boring,’ I said.

I hadn’t actually been to the country much, but of course I knew all about it. We’ve got this old video about kids living on a farm in the country. The main girl in it is called Hayley like me. It’s a good film but the country looks awful. Cold and empty and muddy, with cows that chase you.

I moaned, and Mum said I was a spoiled little whatsit, and I went into our bedroom and sulked. Skippy came and cuddled up beside me.

‘We don’t like the country,’ she said, to show me she was on my side – though Skippy is always on everyone’s side.

‘That’s right, Skip. We don’t like the country. And we don’t like Mick.’

‘We don’t like Mick,’ Skippy echoed obediently, but she didn’t sound so sure.

When Mick knocked at our door at nine o’clock on Saturday morning, Skippy went rushing up to him, going, ‘Mick, Mick, Mick!’

Skippy is useless at not liking people.

I am brilliant at it. And Mick was making it easy-peasy. He looked ridiculous. He always looks a bit wet and weedy, but today he was wearing a big woolly jumper right up to his chin and awful baggy cord trousers and boots. Honestly. I knew Mum could act a bit loopy at times but she had to be barking mad to go round with Mick.

‘Ready, girls?’ he said, swinging Skippy round and round while she squealed and kicked her legs, her shoes falling off. ‘Have you got any welly boots, Skip? I think you’ll need them.’ He put on a silly voice (well, his own voice is silly, but this was sillier). ‘It gets right mucky in the country, lass.’

Skippy put on my old Kermit wellies and her Minnie Mouse mac.

‘It’s a Mouse-Frog!’ said Mick, and Skippy fell about laughing.

I sighed heavily.

‘What about your wellies, Hayley?’ said Mick. ‘And I should put a jumper on too.’

I took no notice. As if I’d be seen dead in wellies! And I was wearing the simply incredible designer T-shirt Mum found for 20p down at the school jumble. I wasn’t going to cover it up with an old sweater even if it snowed.

Mum looked like she wanted to give me a shake, but she got distracted looking for our old thermos flask. We were having a picnic. I’d helped cut the sandwiches. (Skippy sucked the cut-off crusts until they went all slimy like ice lollies.) The sandwiches were egg and banana and ham (not all together, though maybe it would taste good), and there were apples and crisps and a giant bar of chocolate, and orange juice for Skip and me, and tea for Mum and Mick. It seemed a seriously yummy picnic. It looked like I might be going to enjoy this day out in spite of myself.

Skippy and I nagged to nibble the chocolate in the car on the way to the country. Mum said we had to wait till picnic time. Hours and hours and hours! Mick said, ‘Oh, let the girls have a piece now if they’re really hungry.’

He rooted round in the picnic bag and handed the whole bar over.

This was a serious mistake. Skippy and I tucked in determinedly. By the time Mum peered round at us we’d eaten nearly three-quarters.

Mum was very cross. ‘How can you be so greedy? Hayley, you should have stopped Skippy. You know she gets car-sick.’

‘She’s fine, Mum. Stop fussing. You’re OK, aren’t you, Skip? You don’t feel sick, do you?’

Skippy said she didn’t feel sick at all. She tried to smile. She was very pale, though her lips were dark brown with chocolate.

‘Oh dear,’ said Mum. ‘Have you got a spare plastic bag, Mick? We need it kind of urgently.’

She was just in time. Skippy was very very sick. It was so revolting that it made me feel a little bit sick too. We drove slowly with the window wide open. I shut my eyes and wondered when we were ever going to get to this boring old countryside. I’d lost interest in the picnic. I just wanted it to be time to go home.

‘Here we are,’ Mick said cheerily at long long long last.

I opened my eyes and looked round. I hadn’t realized the country was going to be so green. That old film with the other Hayley was in black and white.

‘We used to come here on days out when I was a boy,’ Mick said excitedly. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’

There was nothing much there. No shops. No cafés. Not even an ice-cream van. Just lots and lots and lots of trees. And fields. More trees. More fields. And a big big hill in the distance, so tall there were grey clouds all round the top like fuzzy hair.

‘That’s Lookout Hill,’ said Mick. ‘Right, girls! Let’s climb it!’

I stared at him as if he was mad. Even Mum looked taken aback. He said it as if climbing miles up into the clouds was a big treat! We don’t reckon climbing three flights of stairs up to our flat when the lift breaks down.

‘Isn’t it a bit too far?’ said Mum.

‘No, no. We’ll be up it in a matter of minutes, you’ll see,’ said Mick.

Mick is a liar. Those few minutes went on for hours. First we trudged through the woods. It was freezing cold and dark and miserable, and I hated it. Mick saw me shivering and offered me his big woolly but I wouldn’t wear it. He put it on Skip instead, right over her mac. She staggered along looking loopy, the hem right down round her ankles. Mum said she looked like a little sheep, so Skip went ‘Baa-baa-baa.’

Then we were out of the wood and walking across a field. Skip went skipping about until she stepped in something disgusting. I laughed at her. Then I stepped in something too. I squealed and moaned and wiped my shoes in the grass five hundred times. We seemed to be wading through a vast animal toilet.

‘Stop making such a fuss, Hayley. We’ll clean your shoes properly when we get home,’ said Mum.

She didn’t look as if she was enjoying the country that much either. Her hair was blowing all over the place and her eye make-up was running.

‘Now for the final stretch,’ said Mick, taking Mum’s hand. She held onto Skippy with the other.

I hung back. I climbed up after them. Up and up and up and up. And up and up and up. And up some more.

My head hurt and my chest was tight and a stitch stabbed my side and my legs ached so much I couldn’t keep up.

‘This sucks,’ I gasped, and I sat down hard on the damp mucky grass.

‘Come on, Hayley!’ Mick called, holding out his other hand.

‘No thanks. I’ll wait here. I don’t want to go up the stupid hill,’ I said.

‘You’ve got to come too, Hayley,’ said Mum. ‘We can’t leave you here by yourself.’

So they forced me up and I had to stagger onwards. Up and up and up and up. I wasn’t cold any more. I was boiling hot. My designer T-shirt was sticking to me. My shoes were not only all mucky and spoiled, but they were giving me blisters. If I was as little as Skippy I might have started crying.

‘It’ll be worth it when we get right to the top and you see the view,’ said Mick.

What view? He was crazy. We were right up in the clouds and it was grey and gloomy and drizzling.

‘Nearly there!’ Mad Mick yelled above me. ‘See!’

Then Mum gasped. Skippy squeaked. And I staggered up after them out of the clouds – and there I was on the top of the hill and the sun was suddenly out, shining just for us, right above the clouds in this private secret world in the air. There were real sheep munching grass and a Skippy-sheep capering round like crazy. I stood still, my heart thumping, the breeze cool on my hot cheeks, looking up at the vast sky. I saw a bird flying way up even higher. I felt as if I could fly too. Just one more step and I’d be soaring.

The clouds below were drifting and parting, and suddenly I could see the view. I could see for miles and miles and miles – the green slopes and the dark woods and the silver river glittering in the sunlight. I was on top of the whole world!

‘Wow,’ I said.

Skippy smiled. Mum smiled. Mick smiled. And I smiled too. Then we all ran hand in hand down down down the hill, ready for our picnic.