When I get home from school, both Mum and Gary are waiting for me in the front room. I give MUM a hug. She looks at me with one of her eyebrows firmly planted on the ceiling and says, “Hello, Millie. Next time you come around, can you make sure I’m there? It would be lovely to actually speak to you.”
I’m rumbled. “How did you know I was there?”
“Gary sensed a disturbance.” Mum looks annoyed, and Gary looks distressed. “He felt there was something slightly out of place … and you accidentally locked the robot vacuum in your room when you left and closed the door behind you. It was going berserk. Like a trapped dog. Gary was very concerned.”
Gary says seriously, “His little motor was a bit scorched, but he had a little rest and everything is okay.”
I think I am meant to be relieved at this. The truth is, McWhirter is one of the few things in the world I am not worried about.
Betrayed by McWhirter. Lauren wasn’t paranoid—she was right. That hoover has totally got it in for us. Mum carries on. She sounds hurt, too.
“Why did you come around when we were both out? Come on, Millie! I know you. I know it wouldn’t have been for something stupid, but … have things got so bad that you can’t see me? What did you want to hide from me?”
What do I say? It was for something Mum would never understand and she wouldn’t even want to try to understand. She’d be furious if I told her about the vlog.
I say, “Oh, I’d just forgotten my … onesie. It’s really cold here, Mum. They don’t really—”
“I know!” Mum interrupts. “You can come home, you know. Your dad’s a good man, but he lives in a way that’s very different from what you’re used to. You make good choices, Millie. And choices are what LIFE is all about. You need to make thoughtful and considered ch—”
Mum is disturbed midsentence by the sound of a mad car honking. We rush to the front door, and pulling into the drive is a very battered and old ice-cream truck. Teresa leans her head out of the driver’s window and starts shouting, “I am Mrs. Whippy! Hear me ROAR.
“It’s the greatest idea ever!” she yells. “I just need to get the fridges fixed, the motor tweaked a bit, and the thing that plays the tune installed, but I don’t really need that—I can just shout ‘ICE CREAM!’ out the window. I mean, at the moment, it can only go about five miles per hour, but you don’t need to go that fast when you’re an ice-cream truck anyway, do you? I’m sure people won’t mind waiting behind me. Everyone loves ice cream. Also, it’s the greatest way ever to meet guys!”
At this point, Teresa finally spots my mum and Gary. “Oh, hello! How are you? Fancy sponsoring me? Seriously, this is a cast-iron business opportunity. This is a family business that can be passed down through generations!”
Mum doesn’t reply to Teresa. She just looks at me and says sternly, “Choices. Decisions, Millie.”
Mum can always find things to prove her point. They land in her lap. Even bad old ice-cream vans.
“Anyway,” Mum continues. “Look. You’re welcome at the house anytime, and, Millie—you can tell me anything. You know that. That’s how we work, you and me. Honesty. You normally make the right decisions. Please try to keep on doing that.”
Gary starts violently sneezing and says, “Can we go? This place is terrible for my allergies. And yes, Rachel, I’ve had a squirt of my nasal spray, but even that can’t perform miracles.”
Mum gives Teresa a hug and says, “When you get it going properly, give me a call.” Mum knows Teresa never will, but Mum isn’t nasty. She’s ace. Really annoyingly ace and sensible—just living with a man who knows I was cruel to his hoover. He will never forgive me and will probably report me to the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Vacuum Cleaners.
Mum then gives me one of those hugs that I never want to end. But it does end, and she goes back to my house. Her house. Gary’s house. Probably just McWhirter’s house. It doesn’t matter. It makes me feel like I want to put a duvet over my head and eat biscuits.
I leave Teresa and Dad downstairs to plan their gourmet ice-cream van business and lie on my bed. Erin now has over five hundred likes for her photo. It is perfect. Danny is perfect. The comments say stuff like:
Gorgeous!
Your attitude is so inspiring ☺
A true #Feminist #Warrior
I mean, WHAT?! These people don’t really know Erin. They see her photos and think she is beautiful inside and out, but she’s …
The fact is, I am jealous. And actually, there is a lot to learn from Erin. She takes what she does online really seriously. She plans it and filters it and takes every photo a hundred times and writes things that people love. Things that she KNOWS people will love. I can’t do that because I haven’t got her arch-nemesis-brain of evil genius, but I can take what I need to do seriously.
That’s what I need to do.
I message Lauren.
Lauren. When we do this vlog, we are doing it RIGHT.
She messages me back with:
Learn from Bradley, Mills. He’s a genius with it all.
She is right. The Emperor of Escalators is the key to my success.