NEXT GUEST THING

For Chrissie, the best thing about Easter is chocolate – lots of it!

Read through the text and use the main grid to record any positive facts with a tick and any definite negative facts with a cross. We’ve already marked the first piece of information (that the guest arriving at 7.55 pm gave Joanne a fountain pen) to show you what we mean. Record the rest in this way and you should be able to work out further facts as you reread the text. As you deduce more answers, use the second grid to record what you know, until you’ve fully worked out when each of the guests arrived at the party, what costume they were wearing and the gift they each gave to Joanne.

To celebrate her birthday, Joanne is throwing a fancy-dress party for all of her friends. It’s still quite early but the first five party guests have already arrived, each wearing a different costume and each bringing with them a gift for Joanne.

The second guest to turn up rang the doorbell at 7.55 pm and handed Joanne a beautiful inscribed fountain pen. Around 10 minutes later, at 8.05pm, the next guest arrived dressed up as a banana. Cheryl, who has been Joanne’s best friend since the two of them were at primary school together, got to Joanne’s house at 8.15 pm.

A particularly striking present the birthday girl received was an orange teapot, which was given to her by one of the three female guests. Joanne loves scented candles, and was delighted to receive one in the shape of a cat from a guest who arrived at the party dressed as a dinosaur.

Liam, who is wearing a pirate costume, got to Joanne’s house at some point after 8.00 pm. Tina, who used to work with Joanne in the local supermarket, brought a bottle of champagne as a gift; five minutes after her arrival, someone turned up dressed as an astronaut.

Can you work out the time each of the five guests arrived at the party, what costume each person was wearing and what gift he or she brought?

I’ve spent hours decorating a straw hat with homemade paper flowers. “What do you think?” I ask Mum. “What are you going to do with it?” she enquires. “It’s for an Easter Bonnet competition. A bonnet is a hat,” I explain.

“I know that, silly!” Mum sounds grumpy.

“The first prize is a hamper with four Easter eggs,” I tell her. I can’t help grinning at the thought of all that chocolate.

“We don’t need four Easter eggs,” says my mother. “I suppose we could melt them down and make a pudding or a cake.”

A pudding or a cake? This is cruelty to teenagers! If I win the hamper I shall just have to hide it from her.

“Is that glitter on those flowers?” growls Mum. “Glitter is made of plastic. Very bad for the environment.”

She has been keen on the environment since she met Kevin a couple of months ago. He calls himself a green activist. Kevin is a geek with thick pebble glasses and a bad haircut who is never seen without his old-fashioned shopping bag that he keeps zipped up.

I long to know what’s inside the bag, but Mum would tell me off if I dared to ask him. Of course he’s a vegetarian. When he came to supper last night Mum cooked a meal of chopped sprouts mixed with pasta and some grated orange cheese. She hasn’t yet mastered the art of meatfree cookery.

“Gross!” I said.

Mum ignored the comment as though my opinion didn’t matter.

“What about you, Kev? Do you like it?” She gave him a loved-up smile.

“Delicious – but perhaps fewer sprouts next time,” he replied, stifling a burp.

I can’t help thinking that she has only teamed up with Kevin because of Dad. He left us eighteen months ago. Mum called it a mid-life crisis. He opened a tattoo parlour and it wasn’t long before he had dragons and hearts decorating his arms.

Then he hooked up with his apprentice, a girl called Nicky. She’s a Goth who wears long black dresses and lace-up boots. Her eyeshadow is red and her lipstick is black. She is having Dad’s baby.

Saturday is the day of the Easter Bonnet parade. I’m not keen on

flaunting myself in public but the thought of those four Easter eggs spurs me on.

There are two judges. One is a woman who can’t stop smiling. “How delightful!” she says to anyone wearing a hat. The other is a miserable-looking man with a red nose and a dodgy toupée. He announces: “And the winner is…”

I am all set to march up to the stage to collect the hamper and I can’t believe it when the name announced is not mine. I trudge home to tell Mum, saying: “At least I’ll have one Easter egg when you give me yours tomorrow.”

She says: “I haven’t bought any Easter eggs this year, Chrissie.

All that wasteful packaging going to landfill!”

Just then my phone pings. It’s a text message from Dad. The baby arrived yesterday. They are going to call her Tabitha. It’s been an eventful day.

On Easter Sunday, I’m off to Dad’s for lunch. Nicky answers the door. At least, I think it’s Nicky. I do a double take because her face is scrubbed clean and she’s wearing jeans. “I haven’t time for all that Goth stuff now I’m a mum,” she laughs.

Dad appears and says: “Come and meet Tabitha.”

He looks as though he is about to explode with pride. The baby is dressed in a pink babygrow with rabbit ears. He places her in my arms. I want to hate her, but I go all gooey and blush.

Dad has roasted a leg of lamb with crispy roast potatoes. It’s bliss after Mum’s vegetarian experiments. When we’ve eaten, he produces four carrier bags. “Easter eggs!” he announces. He has bought one for each of us, even little Tabitha.

At the bus station on my way home, I spot a familiar figure in the café. Only one man I know has a haircut like that. He’s wolfing down a bacon sandwich.

‘I haven’t bought any Easter eggs this year, Chrissie...’

“Hello, Kevin,” I say and he has the grace to look embarrassed. “Um, hello, Chrissie.”

“So you’re not a vegetarian, then?”

“Well, I tried, but I don’t really like vegetables,” he stammers. I notice that he has spilt tomato ketchup down the front of his pullover and something has happened to his glasses because he has mended them with a plaster.

“I’m on my way to your house,” he says, picking up his bulging shopping bag.

Having caught him out, I feel justified in asking what’s in it. He opens it to reveal three large Easter eggs.

“I put all the packaging in the recycling bin,” he says defensively. “I know your mum won’t be pleased when she finds out I misled her about being a vegetarian, but I am truly a green warrior.”

A warrior? More like a worrier, I think.

“I suppose your mum will dump me now,” he says, looking sad.

I think of Dad’s newfound happiness and of Mum being on her own. I say: “I reckon we can do a deal here, Kevin. I’ll smooth the way with Mum if you let me take care of your bag.”

Back home, I retreat to my bedroom. I can hear Kevin and Mum laughing in the kitchen as the smell of frying sausages wafts upstairs.

Unzipping Kevin’s bag, I stash his three eggs plus the one from Dad in the bottom of my wardrobe and cover them with some clothes. Who knows – I might even share one of them with Mum and Kevin…