Becky's Terrible Term by Holly Webb Page B

We’re home!” Katie yelled, as she shoved the door open with her knee. The triplets’ house was quite old, and though it was in no danger of falling down, bits of it did tend to stick or refuse to shut properly. It wasn’t a good house for going downstairs to get a drink in the middle of the night – what with the doors and the cats, anyone would be convinced it was haunted before they were halfway.
    â€œUurgh! Well, I can’t tell you now – we need to talk about it before we let Mum in on it.” Annabel chucked her jacket at the banisters frustratedly, and didn’t notice a conspiratorial look passing between her sisters – and the cat. Annabel should have told them what was going on that afternoon at school. Maybe they should pay her back. This could be fun. . .
    â€œAnnabel Ryan! I heard that! Get back there and hang your jacket up in the coat cupboard. What do you think that cupboard is for?”
    â€œRoller skates!” yelled Annabel, rolling her eyes at the other two and scooping up her jacket again. She pulled the door of the understairs cupboard open, and it let out its usual eerie screech. Then she leaned riskily across three pairs of in-line skates, a large bag of woodchip for Becky’s guinea pigs and a skateboard, to reach the hooks at the back of the cupboard. “You’d better pass me yours as well while I’m here,” she said in a coat-muffled voice. “Ow!”
    â€œWhat?” asked Katie worriedly, poking her fleece round the door. “Are you OK, Bel?”
    â€œYeah, I just stabbed myself on that stupid cat-carrier again. Those spiky bits on the door are dangerous.”
    â€œSorry,” called Becky, attempting a complicated one-armed jacket-removing manoeuvre without putting down Orlando, who was acting superglued because he knew it would make life difficult. “I think Mum’s having one of her tidiness-fits again,” she added in a lower voice. “She doesn’t normally mind if we put stuff on the banisters.”
    â€œIt probably all fell on her,” came the muffled voice again, accompanied by an impatient hand. “Come on ,Becky – jacket!”
    Katie tugged Becky out of the sleeve she was struggling with and passed the jacket over. Annabel emerged dustily from the cupboard looking like she’d been on a dangerous mission.
    â€œRight,” she whispered. “Get juice and biscuits and then we’re going to our room. I’m going to be sick if I don’t tell you this idea soon.”
    â€œServes you right,” Katie whispered back, grinning. “You shouldn’t have been so secretive at lunchtime.” Then she led the way into the kitchen where their mum was working at the big pine table. Mrs Ryan translated books from German or French to English, and the other way round. This meant she could do most of her work at home, which made being a mum easier too.
    Mum smiled up at the three of them. “Hello! Did you have a good day? Sorry, I’ve got to finish this bit off, and then we can do tea. Grab yourselves a snack for the minute.”
    The triplets looked around the kitchen. Yes, apart from the table, which had lots of books piled up on it and several abandoned cups of coffee, the kitchen waslooking unusually tidy. Positively shiny, in fact. They sighed. They wouldn’t be able to find anythingwhile Mum had this fit on. At least it wasn’t likely to last very long. Annabel looked at her mum, who’d just got up to put the kettle on, while Katie grabbed apple juice, and Becky, still one-armed due to Orlando, rootled for biscuits. Mum looked stressed, Annabel thought. Probably too much tidying – the kitchen was hardly recognizable from this morning, and now she came to think of it, the hall had been scarily neat as well.
    â€œLet’s go and get changed. OK, Mum? We’ll be down in a bit, to help with tea, all right?” And she exchanged