Puppy Fat by Morris Gleitzman Page B

the doctor to see if Dad could get liposuction on the Government and were probably wondering where he was.
    Tracy had probably slept off her headache and was probably wondering where he was too.
    Keith realised he didn’t know where he was.
    He peered around but the dark houses all looked the same.
    Serves me right if I’m lost forever, thought Keith gloomily. A person who ruins his dad’s life and his best friend’s life and can’t even fix things up with a two hundred square foot mural deserves to be lost.
    Dazzle started to wail softly.
    Keith patted his head.
    â€˜Don’t be upset,’ he said, ‘we’re not really lost. We’re somewhere in South London.’
    Dazzle kept on wailing.
    He knows, thought Keith, he knows we won’t be able to stay in South London with Aunty Bev here.
    And suddenly Keith wanted to wail himself.
    He wanted to snuggle inside Mum’s jacket, or Dad’s, and tell them how scared and unhappy he was.
    He looked around for a street sign to help him get home but all he could see was a gatepost.
    A gatepost with a jagged slash of new wood on it.
    Mr Mellish’s gatepost.
    Dazzle’s wails got louder and Keith suddenly knew why.
    â€˜He’s gone,’ he said softly to the trembling dog. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
    Keith felt wetness on his hand.
    You poor little thing, he thought, you’re crying.
    Then Keith realised the tears weren’t Dazzle’s, they were his.
    Please be home, Mum, thought Keith as he softly closed the door.
    As his eyes got used to the darkness he saw that Mum’s bed on the settee was empty.
    Then he heard it.
    The quiet sobbing coming from the bathroom.
    Oh no, he thought, I knew it was too good to be true.
    I knew it was too much to hope that Mum and Donald could find happiness together what with them both being parking inspectors and under so much stress.
    And now they’ve split up.
    Poor Mum.
    Keith knocked softly on the bathroom door, then pushed it open.
    He could just make out a figure sitting on the edge of the bath in a dressing gown, shaking with sobs.
    â€˜Don’t sit here in the dark; he said softly, and put the light on.
    Aunty Bev blinked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
    Keith blinked back.
    He saw she was holding the tattered photo of herself as a kid in one hand and a half-empty packet of chocolate fingers in the other.
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Keith.
    â€˜That’s OK,’ said Aunty Bev. ‘I’m just feeling a bit weepy.’
    She looked at the photo, then at the chocolate fingers.
    â€˜Can I tell you something just between us?’ she said.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Keith, hoping desperately she wasn’t going to lecture him about how eating chocolate fingers would give him puppy fat.
    â€˜It’s not going to work with me and your dad,’ she said sadly. ‘He thinks I nag him too much.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Keith.
    Aunty Bev put a chocolate finger into her mouth.
    â€˜I haven’t had a chocolate finger for nineteen years,’ she said.
    â€˜That must have been awful,’ said Keith.
    Aunty Bev wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘It’s not a lot of fun,’ she said, ‘staying thin and beautiful.’
    Keith wondered if he should let her know she looked nicer with red eyes and a brown mouth.
    â€˜Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do for my holidays?’ said Aunty Bev.
    â€˜Go to Nepal?’ said Keith.
    â€˜Spend two weeks with a normal tummy like your dad and comfy hair like your mum,’ said Aunty Bev.
    â€˜Why don’t you?’ said Keith.

16
    Keith stumbled downstairs to the cafe rubbing his eyes, Dazzle panting at his heels.
    That, he thought, was the best sleep I’ve had in months.
    Then he stopped.
    Something was wrong.
    Why couldn’t he smell frying?
    It was after midday and Tracy and Aunty Bev would be arriving for Sunday lunch any sec and Dad should have