We go straight from school to my mum’s. It’s deathly quiet. We creep up to my old bedroom and open the door. It’s Wednesday, and Gary’s away. The normal world can play!
When I get inside, I can see that someone has already dusted the blinds, even to the far-corner bits. No one does that. I bet even Prince Harry’s blinds are filthy bad there. It’s cleaner than it has been in a very long time. And it was only a little dirty in the first place. I am fully aware of the many diseases that come from dust and bed mites. I’ve seen those photos of bed bugs that have been magnified to a million times their actual size. When I can’t sleep, I often google illnesses. It’s good to know what could kill you.
“Right,” Lauren says. “First things first. What’s our vlog going to be about?”
I flip out some notes I’ve scribbled down. Mum always says that preparation stops poor performance.
WHY can’t I get Mum out of my head?
“EPIC!” Lauren shouts. “Now we need to prepare THE FACES.”
Lauren’s makeup collection is extensive. Her mum and dad buy her something every time they feel guilty about shouting and upsetting her. Which is a lot.
We spend serious time getting the base right, and then we thoroughly contour for the screen. We go high gloss on the lips and dark on the eyes.
Lauren looks at us both. “Yes. The effect is professional but approachable. It says we mean business but you can also talk to us on a level that you’re comfortable with. It’s the look of today’s pressured, professional woman. We work. We nurture. We deliver.”
I try not to laugh, but I do. “Loz, you spoon, where did you get that from?”
Lauren laughs, too. “I saw it on This Morning when I was home sick with conjunctivitis. Seriously. It’s ‘makeup with a message.’”
We both end up giggling. “Loz, we need to be quiet. If Mum finds out we were here, she’ll think that I can’t cope at Granddad’s.”
“Well, you can’t.” Lauren is all sheepish and apologetic. “You’re Miss Particular and that house feels like a party popper has just gone off ALL THE TIME.”
I do a death stare. “No, it’s just not right for vlogging. That’s different.”
Lauren can see that I’m a bit miffed so she takes some fairy lights off my mirror and dangles them in the air above my head.
“Shall I hold the lights like this behind you?”
I do not want my best friend standing behind me like a Christmas tree. It will make us look like those wacky joke vloggers. That’s not what we’re about. I’m not saying we can’t be funny, but we also have really serious stuff to discuss.
“Loz, I want you sitting with me. Okay—how should we start? I’ve been thinking our first subject should be—”
Lauren interrupts me. “Well, I thought we could just say who we are … and then totally wing it. Be natural. Talk from the heart!” And then Lauren just stares at me.
I try not to get cross. I do think we need to be a little more prepared than that, but I don’t want to be too bossy and Miss Know-It-All to Lauren. That’s old Millie. Mum-influenced Millie. I’m trying to live more in the moment now, so I say, “Yeah! Let’s go for it.”
I press RECORD on my phone, and we both say, “Hello!” then collapse into giggles.
“It’s okay! We can edit it!” I say. “Take two. Take two.”
“Take two what?!” Lauren looks very confused.
“That’s what directors say,” I explain. “TAKE two! Okay. This one. Really this one.”
We turn the camera on and giggle again.
“Lauren!” I yell.
“I’m sorry.” She snorts through laughs. “It’s just, you know … too … you know!”
“I know.” I get it. “Right. Let’s think of something really serious.”
Lauren stares at me and says, “Death.”
And we still can’t stop laughing.
“What is wrong with us?!” I ask. “Are we terrible people?! We are laughing at death!”
And then Lauren collapses on my fluffy rug, shaking with the giggles.
“It’s not even funny,” I yell, but I can’t stop laughing, either.
Then suddenly, I hear a noise outside the door. “Lauren. Shhhhh! I think Mum’s back! Or Gary!”
Someone is coming down the landing toward my bedroom. We’ve been making so much noise, they must think we’re really rubbish burglars. My heart starts to pound. I can see Lauren looking at me for comfort, but I can’t give her any. I’m scared, too.
She whispers, “What if they bash us over the head with something or call the police? Or call the police, THEN bash us over the head?!”
“Shhhh!” I snap. “It’s going to be okay.” I don’t believe this for one moment.
The door creaks open slightly. Someone is checking to see who the intruders are. Unless … My brain starts an insane worry spiral. What if burglars are actually disturbing us? What if some prisoners have escaped and they want a really tidy safe house with a good selection of soups and non-crumbly biscuits? We are in trouble. I can sense it. I know it. This is bad. This is serious.…
This is—
McWhirter, the robot vacuum cleaner, glides into the room on full spin and starts trying to hoover up Lauren, who is still on the floor. He must be preprogrammed to start cleaning automatically. He has a little base at the top of the staircase that he sits in when he’s doing the upstairs.
I scream very angrily, “McWhirter!”
“Don’t upset him.” Lauren bites her lip. “Perhaps he’ll tell Gary or something!”
“How can he, Lauren?! He’s a robot!”
Lauren narrows her eyes. “Perhaps he has a surveillance device on him. Perhaps a tiny camera is relaying all this to your mum via satellite right now. Perhaps she doesn’t really work at a hospital. Perhaps she’s employed by the government to spy on teenagers everywhere, and robot vacuums are actually just cameras that clean!”
It’s then that I decide we need to get out of here.
“Lauren, we are catching the weird off this house. This is why I wanted to go to Granddad’s in the first place. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about the vlog?” Lauren looks GUTTED. This is her big dream, too.
“We just need another plan. We’re not giving up. Let’s go back to my granddad’s, get some dinner, and have a think.” I put my arm around her.
I haven’t got a clue where we can film, but Lauren doesn’t need to know that right now.