Bryony Bell Tops the Bill by Franzeska G. Ewart, Kelly Waldek

Chapter: One
    Bryony Bell thundered down the stairs three at a time. Four steps from the bottom she grabbed hold of the banister, flung herself over, took a running jump on to the mat in the middle of the polished wooden floor, and let it slide her smoothly to the front door. Then she clicked open the letterbox and hissed through at the rectangle of blue serge, ‘Don’t ring!’
    The postman dutifully froze, and when Bryony opened the door he was still standing like a strange statue, index finger pointing bellwards.
    â€˜Shhhhh!’ Bryony cautioned needlessly.
    â€˜Parcel for Ms B. Bell,’ the postman whispered. ‘You’ve to sign for it,’ he added, almost inaudibly.
    â€˜Brilliant!’ hissed Bryony. ‘They’ve come!’
    She signed the form.
    â€˜Don’t want anyone knowing,’ she explained as she handed it back. ‘Top secret, it is — ’cept for my dad.’
    The postman handed over a brown box covered in express delivery stickers, and hoisted his bag on to his shoulder. Then, with a muttered ‘Mum’s the word, then,’ he shuffled off, leaving Bryony in her pink frilly nightie, gazing at the parcel in delight.
    All was still quiet in the Bell household, but Bryony knew that time was running out. She made for the kitchen, ripped off the wrapping paper and read the writing on the box.
    â€˜Wicked!’ she whistled. ‘Viper 3000s with white fibreglass composite uppers, adjustable toe-stops, extra strong bearings and Ice-Lite wheels …’
    She opened the lid, lifted the white tissue paper, and gazed in wonder at what nestled within.

    The early morning sun glinted off the shiny aluminium wheel-trims. The whole kitchenglowed in the dazzling whiteness of the fibreglass composite uppers. The wheels had ‘speed’ written all over their black rubber and the adjustable toe-stops looked strong enough to stop a herd of elephants in their tracks.
    Bryony picked one up, held it to her nose and breathed in its delicious new smell. ‘Viper 3000s …’ she whispered over and over to herself. ‘White Viper 3000s — the ultimate in rollerskating perfection.’
    She ripped back the Velcro strap, loosened the laces and slipped her foot inside. The rollerskate fitted like a glove. She took the other one out and put it on too, and, very slowly, she sidestepped gracefully round and round the table, first in one direction and then, backwards and considerably faster, in the other. She finished with a little spin, threw her head back, and, holding her nightie out with both hands, curtsied at the kettle, the fridge, and the bread-bin in turn.
    â€˜There’s no stopping me now,’ she said, smiling happily to herself. ‘With Viper 3000s, the world’s my oyster!’
    She glanced upwards, head to one side, listening out for the familiar little creaking sound which meant her father was up. When she heard it, she blew a kiss in its direction and whispered, ‘I love you, Dad!’
    Hurrying now, she eased her feet out of the rollerskates and laid them gently back on their bed of tissue paper, just overcoming the temptation to kiss them too. Then she slid the box out of sight under the towels in the airing cupboard.
    â€˜Just in the nick of time!’ she breathed, as a series of high-pitched sounds rent the air above her head.
    She turned on the tap to fill the kettle. It was always best to do this during the ‘voice exercises’ because the gushing sound drowned out the worst of the top notes.
    Then came ‘scale practice’. During this, Bryony liked to be setting out the cereal bowls and jars of jam and marmalade and honey. And finally — and by this time she had to have the eggs on to boil and the bread in the toaster — there was the Bell Family Song.
    The Bell Family Song rang out as usual, in close four-part harmony and with earsplitting gusto …
    We’re The Singing Bells