Chapter 1

Granny Greenslade was a potty, dotty old granny with a gigantic, and rather lumpy, bottom. She lived in an old farmhouse in a little village called Great Guffield, where nobody minded that she was as odd as one of her garlic fruitcakes.

She wore great big glasses, not because they looked good (because they didn’t) but because she thought that the bigger the glasses, the more she would see. She was very potty indeed. She could barely see the big apple tree in the middle of her garden. Whenever she bumped into it, she said, “Sorry Mr Lumsden! Don’t mind me, you’re doing a grand job, do carry on.”

Mr Lumsden used to be her gardener. He had stopped gardening for her aged seventy-five, when Granny Greenslade accidentally locked him in her potting shed for two weeks while she went to visit her great niece in Mablethorpe. He was rather cross, and very hungry when she came home. “Oh, good morning, Mr Lumsden. Are my petunias still perky?” she’d said. Fortunately Mr Lumsden was too weak to talk. “Now, don’t stay in there too long or you might start to sprout!” Granny Greenslade laughed. That was the last time she saw Mr Lumsden, although she never realised it.

Nobody knew how old Granny Greenslade was. Most people guessed at about a hundred and thirty two.

She lived with a very old dog called Rufus. He had long black curly hair, black eyes, black nose and a long floppy pink tongue that always hung out of his mouth, and helped to show which way he was facing. He was very good at sleeping. He mostly slept in the kitchen. He sometimes slept in the garden. He once fell asleep on three chickens that dumped him on the compost heap. Sleep came quickly to Rufus. He only woke up to eat.

Granny Greenslade had a ginormous garden. She grew every sort of fruit and vegetable known to man, and some others that man had never heard of. She had very green fingers, even when she hadn’t mistakenly filled her soap dispenser up with green paint. She loved to eat. As well as her fruit and vegetables, she loved cheese - all sorts of cheese. She had been given a cheese plant as a birthday present once. She was very disappointed that it didn’t grow any sort of cheese at all. She thought if she lived long enough, someone would sort this out. That was typical of Granny Greenslade; she always looked on the bright side of life.


Chapter 2


One morning in July, Granny Greenslade was coming in from the garden for a well-earned cup of tea and slice of homemade Strawberry and Spinach Cheesecake, when the phone rang.

“Granny G?”

“Yes dear.”

“It’s Emma here.”

“Oh, hello Emma darling. What an absolute treat to hear from you on such a beautiful day. How are you?”

“Well, I’m … OK …”

“Goodness dear, you don’t sound too cheery. What’s wrong?” Granny Greenslade was good at listening. It helped to make up for being bad at seeing.

“Oh, it’s Charlie, you know, my Charlotte,” she sounded as if she’d been crying, “I don’t know what to do with her.”

“Dear, dear. There, there. Now, you tell me what the problem is, and I’ll see if I can’t help.”

“Oh, Granny G, she just won’t do anything I ask her … and she stays in her room all the time … and she won’t eat properly … she’s always so grumpy … I don’t know how to make her happy … I’m so worried about her …” Emma’s voice had gone very high and squeaky and she started to cry. “… and she’s on summer holidays now … and I’m frightened to tell her off when she’s naughty … ’cos that will make her even grumpier … and I don’t know what to doohoo hooo.”

“Oh, dear, dear, dear. You sound in a proper state. Now, let’s see ... How about a little holiday?”

“It won’t make any difference to Charlie, she’ll just be miserable somewhere else…and stay in her hotel room instead of her bedroom.”

“No, no, no. I meant a holiday here, at my house.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Goodness me, child. What are great grannies for, if they can’t dust off the spare room?” Granny Greenslade wasn’t sure how many great grandchildren she had. She wasn’t that sure how many husbands she’d had either. She seemed to remember just one, and thought he must have got lost somewhere.

“Charlie’s quite a handful, Granny G.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“She.”

“Charlie?”

“Yes, Charlotte.”

Granny Greenslade’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Yes, yes, of course. But we’ll be fine, and you can have a break. Now just you pack some bags and bring him or her down this weekend. I’ve got a week of baking and pickling to do for the village fete, so I could do with a hand. And I’m sure Mr Lumsden will welcome a fresh face around here, too!”

“Oh, thank you. But Granny, you know Mr Lums…”

“No buts, I’m off to freshen up the spare room right now. See you Sunday. You can stay for tea and I’ll take over from there.”

“OK. Goodb…” Emma realised that Granny Greenslade had already put the phone down. She looked at the phone. She had a very worried face. She looked up the stairs. Charlotte’s bedroom door slammed. She closed her eyes and hoped that she’d done the right thing.



Chapter 3


Granny Greenslade was busy stirring Carrot, Raspberry and Gorgonzola soup while the Broccoli Bread was baking in the old wood-burning oven. The wood-burning oven was nearly as old as Granny Greenslade, and it always gave her food a burnt woody flavour, which was a blessing.

The front door creaked. “Hello, Granny G.”

“Hello darlings!” Granny Greenslade’s wobbly arms opened wide to cuddle them both. Only Emma joined in with the hug. She hugged her Granny very tightly, and for quite a bit longer than Granny Greenslade expected.

“Oh my word, look at Charlotte! Gosh you’ve grown.”

“I’m over here,” said Charlotte in a miserable teenager voice, which was impressive as she was still only nine.

“Oh, there you are,” said Granny Greenslade as she followed the voice. She gave her great granddaughter a hug, but it was very much like trying to hug a broom handle.

“I don’t do hugs,” said Charlotte. She wasn’t lying.

“Well, half a hug is better than none at all! Now, sit yourselves down. It smells like tea is ready. Emma, darling, would you get the butter please?”

The old wooden table was bright red and set with bowls, plates, glasses, cutlery and a jug of elderflower fizz. Nothing on the table matched anything else. A lifetime of dropping things made for a very colourful kitchen.

“I’m not eating that muck,” said Charlotte, as Granny Greenslade carried the big orange bowl of soup to the big red square that she knew very well to be her table.

“Charlie!” Emma scolded.

“I think I washed all the muck off,” Granny Greenslade smiled and picked up the carving knife.

“Ooh, Granny G be careful with that, it looks sharp,” said a scared Emma.

“Oh does it? Jolly good. Anyone want the crust?”

“Is there a burger bar near here?” Charlotte sat back with her arms folded.

Granny Greenslade smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve never seen one, dear.”

“There’s a surprise,” mocked Charlotte.

“Mmm mmm, this is deli ... well, this is certainly … err, unusual … and very healthy I’m sure.” Emma was doing her best to encourage her daughter to eat.

“Oh yes, nothing but healthy homemade food here. Mmm, it has a good smoky flavour to it, doesn’t it?” Granny Greenslade ate with great gusto.

Emma looked at Charlotte’s empty bowl and plate, “Try some of this bread.” Emma spread lots of butter on a hot slice of green.

“No thanks. I’ll just get a glass of water.” She rolled her eyes at Granny G. “If you have that here.”

“Yes, yes. Let the tap run for a bit though, Charlotte dear. Make sure it’s clear.” Granny Greenslade looked happy that Charlotte seemed to be making herself at home so soon.

Charlotte glared at her mum as she walked to the sink.

“Granny G,” Emma whispered, “she likes to be called Charlie.”

“Oh, lovely dear. Well Charlie can help with the washing up.”

“I don’t do washing up,” growled Charlotte.

After tea, Emma washed up while Charlotte took her suitcase up to the spare room.

“Don’t think it’s your cooking, Granny G, she just doesn’t eat very much.”

Granny Greenslade laughed. “The thought never crossed my mind, dear girl.”

“Burgers and chips are her favourites.”

“Is that so? Well, she won’t be getting very fat here, then.”

“No.” Emma looked worried. “You won’t let her starve though, will you?”

“Nobody starves around here. Even Mr Lumsden keeps going, and he almost never finishes a cup of tea or slice of cake!”

“Er.. Gra…”

“Now then. It’s time to get yourself some rest, and stop worrying about everyone. CHARLOTTE!!” Granny Greenslade had a very loud voice. “Come and say goodbye to your mother, she’s off.”

“Er, don’t forget – it’s Charlie” Emma said.

“Oh, yes, yes.”

Charlotte grumped her way down the dusty wooden stairs. “There’s no TV in my room.”

“I put some books in your case, and some drawing pads and pencils. I thought you might enjoy the change.” Emma smiled, in the hope that Charlotte would too. She didn’t.

“You can stay up till nine o clock with me and watch the lovely loud telly in the lounge. We’ll have lots to talk about too, there’s only a week left until the village fete. Everyone looks forward to my spectacular offerings, you know.” Granny Greenslade’s mind was already spinning dangerously with ideas.

“I love you, Charlie. Please be good.” She looked at Granny G and then back at Charlotte, “and please be safe.” She kissed her daughter just in time, before she was ushered out of the big blue wooden door by a plump, wrinkled, smiling face with butter and green crumbs on the cheek. “I’ll call you,” Emma shouted out the car window.

“Bye, dear.” Granny Greenslade shut the door.

“See ya.” Charlotte managed half a wave.

“Right then. Time for a cup of tea and a jolly good chat before we turn the television on.” Granny Greenslade filled the kettle up.

“I don’t do tea. I’ll have chocolate.” Charlotte wandered into the lounge to turn the telly on.

“Fine. I have a good stock of cocoa powder. It’s in a round, brown pot.” Granny Greenslade’s fingers rummaged through her cupboards as she called over her shoulder. “Do you like cheddar or Wensleydale in your cocoa?” She flicked the kettle on.

Charlotte stomped back into the kitchen. “There’s no TV in the lounge either!”

“Oh yes, there is sweetie. It’s beside the fire. It’s top of the range you know. It’s one of the best makes you can buy, apparently. The man in the shop said it would be absolutely perfect for me. It’s a … Renault, no no, a Rayburn, no, oh fiddlesticks, what name was it now ... er.”

“Was it a ‘Radio’ by any chance?”

“That’s it! Oh, well done you.” Granny Greenslade was chuffed to be up to date with modern technology. “Heard of it then, have you?” She smiled broadly.

There was silence, apart from the boiling kettle. Charlotte glared at Granny G. Granny G was still smiling broadly, at the coat stand.

“I’ll be in my room.” Charlotte stormed up the stairs.

Granny Greenslade nodded to the coat stand and said, “Oh yes, up you go then. Have a good night’s sleep, dear.” She blew her a goodnight kiss. The jacket hanging on the coat stand did not blow a kiss back.


Chapter 4


On Monday, Charlotte woke up to bright sunshine, and the worst smell in the world. “I hope that’s not breakfast,” she thought, “it smells like burnt rat.”

“CHARLOTTE. BREAKFAST!” Granny Greenslade shouted from the kitchen.

Charlotte huffed. She hated the name Charlotte. She hated it even more if it was shouted. She wasn’t going to go down to the kitchen. In fact, she wasn’t going to get out of bed. She was going to pretend to be asleep.

Charlotte lay still and closed her eyes. Everything went quiet. Still and quiet. She kept her eyes closed. Quiet and still. After a boring few minutes, her eyes opened. There was still no telly to turn on. “Oh this place is soooooooooo boring,” she hissed. She stared at the ceiling. The only thing to watch on there was a spider slowly strolling across it. When it reached the middle, it stopped. After a few minutes, it fell off the ceiling onto the bottom of Charlotte’s bed. She looked at it. It was dead. “Probably died of boredom,” she said in a bored voice.

It was a boring room. The walls were boring white. The ceiling was boring white. The wooden floor was boring white. The windows were boring white and looked out onto a boring field. The old fireplace was black. The wardrobe, chest of drawers and bedroom door were black. The curtains and the bedclothes were white with black flowers. The bed was made of black metal and it moaned every time Charlotte moved.

Usually, Charlotte liked black. It was a miserable, dark colour that suited her. But here, with the all the white, and that annoying sunshine flooding in through the window, it was awful.

An evil smile crept across Charlotte’s face.

She slid out of bed and opened her suitcase. There were all the pencils and stupid crayons that her Mum had packed for her. She would add a little colour to the bedroom!

‘I HATE THIS BOOOOOORING PLACE’ was written in red. ‘THIS HOUSE STINKS’ was in orange. ‘GRANNY G IS OLD AND FAT’ was in blue. ‘HELP!’ and ‘GET ME OUT OF HERE!’ were in purple and green. Each letter was as tall as Charlotte could reach. She walked back to the bed and looked around the room. Every wall had a colourful message. She smiled at her artistic flair. “Felt tips would have been better. Trust Mum to pack stupid, girly crayons.”

She asked the dead spider what he thought. He was still dead. She looked up at the ceiling. Deciding it would be cool to mark the place where he’d died, she stood on the bed with the black crayon, and stretched. She wasn’t tall enough. So she balanced on the bed frame and held the crayon at the very end. She could just reach. She managed to scribble the body. She was on the third leg when Granny Greenslade threw open the door with an “OOOOO HOOOO!”

Charlotte jumped with shock, and lost her balance, fell off the end of the bed and landed on her crayons. “OOOOOOWWW! My ankle.”

“Oh my dear. Are you alright?” Granny Greenslade picked her up and helped her back onto her bed.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Sorry dear, I thought you were asleep. I called you for breakfast, but you didn’t answer. Would you like me to bring it up?”

“No.”

Granny G plumped the pillows and had a look around the room. With a satisfied smile she said, “Smashing. Well, have a rest now, and when you feel better there’ll be a lovely cup of hot cocoa waiting for you. I’ll let you put your own cheese in though.” She turned and walked out the door, “Got to get on,” she called behind her, “those radishes won’t pickle themselves.”

Suddenly, the room made sense to Charlotte. “The blind old bat can see black against white.” She looked at her colourful scribblings. “What a waste of time.” She huffed again and flopped back on the bed. “Oooww!” Granny G had plumped the pillows and moved them. “And it’s CHARLIE, NOT CHARLOTTE!” she shouted. Now her ankle and head were throbbing. She looked at the spider, “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

Thankfully, Charlotte reached the hot cocoa before any cheese did, and it tasted fairly normal. She wondered if it would be possible to survive a week on just hot cocoa. After stirring another spoonful of sugar in, she carried her bright yellow mug out into the crazy explosion of green that was Granny G’s garden. She stayed on the patio, next to Rufus. It felt safer there, somehow. It was weird, not hearing cars driving by all the time. It smelt weird too - muddy. The only noises were two tractors in the distance and a few sheep chatting to some cows … and the deafening sound of boredom.

She looked down at Rufus. He was boring too. She gave him a poke to check he was alive. He lifted his head, did half a sniff and flopped back to sleep. Boring.

She’d nearly finished her cocoa when a noise tapped through the boredom. She saw something move near a bush behind the bright orange bench. Charlotte stared at the bush and then emptied her mug. There was the tapping again. Something white was moving under the bush. It poked out. It was a white plastic pot with ‘single cream’ written on it. It wobbled and tapped again and went back into the bush. Charlotte put her mug down on the patio. She looked around to see if anyone was about. No one. The tapping started again, and the bush shook. Slowly, a hedgehog’s bottom appeared.

Eventually the hedgehog came out of the bush. He was wearing the cream tub like a hat - a big, long hat that completely covered his head and wouldn’t come off. He had no idea how stupid he looked. He had no idea where he was going. He fell down the step and rolled into the garden. Charlotte laughed. Stupid hedgehog.

Just then, Granny Greenslade wobbled through, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of mud, and calling happily to Mr Lumsden who wasn’t weeding between the brassicas.

“Hope you found the cocoa and cheese,” she shouted towards the kitchen, as she casually ran over the hedgehog with the wheelbarrow.

“Er, Granny, you …” Charlotte looked at the squashed cream carton.

“You’re welcome dear.” She carried on round the corner toward the potatoes.

Charlotte stared at the lump of stupid in the garden. It wasn’t moving. She wandered down to see if he’d survived the wheel-barrowing. A toe poke revealed that Granny G had just cracked the cream pot and not the hedgehog. His beady black eyes stared back at Charlotte. His face was covered with lumps of cream. He looked very stupid, and a little stunned.

“You should get your own back on her,” Charlotte whispered to him. Another smile crept across her face.

She went into the kitchen and managed to find some milk, the kettle and something that looked like homemade teabags. She made a cuppa for her Granny, “just like any good great granddaughter would!”

“Oh Granny G,” she almost sang. “I’ve made you a cup of tea.” She smiled as she took it out to the patio. She grabbed a towel and picked up the dozy, creamy hedgehog. She waited till Granny G came round the corner and placed him on the bench. “Come and have a sit down and a nice cuppa.”

“Ooh, thank you dear. What a lovely girl you are.” She hitched her gardening trousers up over her mammoth bottom, ready to sit down. She took the mug from Charlotte and pushed her huge glasses up her nose. The glasses had muddy fingerprints all over them, and clearly didn’t make any difference to Granny G. “You are a girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” How stupid could one person be? “Sit down, Granny G.” Charlotte had positioned the hedgehog perfectly.

“Yes of course.” She sat down. “Ooh!”

Charlotte laughed.

“This isn’t tea!” She stood up. “This is pickling spice.” She laughed as she walked into the kitchen. “It’ll need sugar, if I’m going to drink it.”

Charlotte looked at the bench. The hedgehog was squashed between the orange slats. She looked underneath the bench. His beady little eyes looked a little bit bigger than they had done a minute ago. Charlotte poked him all the way through the bench and he plopped out the bottom. Charlotte huffed.

“Ah! That’s better,” Granny G sipped at her cup, “sugar and spice and all things nice,” she rambled, “is that what little girls, or little boys are made from?”

“What?” Charlotte poked her head through the kitchen door.

“Pardon,” said Granny G.

“What?” Charlotte’s grumpiness was grumbling.

“No, no, Charlotte dear, you say ‘pardon’, not ‘what’,” explained Granny G.

“Well I say ‘what’. And it’s Charlie, not Charlotte.” How difficult was it to remember that she liked to be called Charlie instead of Charlotte?

“Oh. I see.” Granny G pushed her massive muddy glasses up on her nose. “Where’s Charlotte then?”

“What?”

“Oh dear, you’re as bad as she is. It’s ‘pardon’ not ‘what’.”

“WHAT?” Charlotte was grumpy and confused now.

“Never mind. Would you be a dear, Charlie, and go and find your sister Charlotte and we’ll sort out these radishes ready for pickling.”

“Wh…” Charlotte stopped. She smiled. Oh, this could be fun. If Granny G thought she had a brother called Charlie, she could be really naughty and blame it all on him! She turned and walked into the garden. “Charlotte! Come and help Granny G with her pickles.” She giggled. This might turn out to be an OK holiday after all.





Chapter 5


After a whole day refusing to eat any disgusting slop that Granny G served up, Charlotte was starving when she woke up on Tuesday morning. She sniffed and she listened. There was no stink coming from the kitchen and Charlotte couldn’t hear Granny G at all. Maybe she was still asleep. So she decided to creep downstairs quietly and search for something edible for breakfast.

She crept into the kitchen. Silence.

She opened the fridge door slowly, so nothing rattled and woke Granny G up.

There were only three things in the fridge that Charlotte recognised as food – eggs, butter and of course cheese. There were two whole shelves full of cheese. There were white cheeses, yellow cheeses, red cheeses, green, blue and even black cheeses. The smell of cheese was enough to make a mouse sick. Charlotte didn’t do cheese. She might possibly eat an egg. But that meant cooking it. Charlotte didn’t do cooking.

She tiptoed to the pantry.

The pantry door was big, heavy and painted bright purple. Carefully, she opened the door so it didn’t creak. It was pitch black inside. Charlotte felt around the wall for the light switch.

THWACK!!

“Aaaaarghhhhhh!” Charlotte screamed.

“AAAARGHHHH!” came an even louder scream.

She turned the light on to see Granny Greenslade in bright pink flowery pyjamas and fluffy green slippers. She was holding a bug swatter, and her face was covered in white cream. “Oh, I thought you were a giant cockroach.”

“Well I’m not.”

“No, of course not. Cockroaches don’t talk.”

“Why were you hiding in the pantry?” said Charlotte as she rubbed her hand better.

“I was looking for something interesting to make for your breakfast.”

“In the dark?”

“Sometimes it helps if I can’t see at all.”

“That explains a lot.” A lump of white fell off Granny G’s chin. “What’s that on your face?”

“Well now dear, that’s a good question. I thought it was face cream, but it appears to be mayonnaise.” Granny G licked her cheek. “Good stuff, too. Now what do you two fancy for breakfast?”

“Two? Oh, err. Yes. Well, Charlie only eats Cornflakes with lots of sugar. But I’ll have whatever you serve up … as long as Charlie gets what he wants.” She smiled a sly smile.

“Oh what a good girl you are.” Granny G patted a melon on the head. “We’ll have to see what we can do about your brother Charlie, eh?”

Charlotte felt pretty pleased with her plan as she pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and waited for Granny G to sort the breakfast.

“Come on now Charlie, don’t be a lazy bean.” Granny G said, “help your sister lay the table.”

“Err…Oh, OK.” Charlotte got up and set the table, for the first time in her life.

Granny G brought out lots of large and brightly coloured tubs and pots. “There you are Charlie, dear. Now, if you could just wait till I’ve cooked a little breakfast treat for Charlotte and me, we can all eat together.” She went to the fridge.

Charlotte lifted the lid of the red and white spotty pot first. Inside was what looked like guinea pig food. The second pot was green and white striped and was full of brownish dried up fruit bits. Thankfully, the orange pot was the cornflakes pot. She was very hungry. She wasn’t going to wait for anyone. She wanted to eat before Granny G made the kitchen smell like yesterday. She filled a bowl for herself, poured on some milk and heaped on three big spoons of sugar. She crammed her mouth full, and chomped, and chomped, and stopped.

“Euurgghhhh.” She spat the whole mouthful out, over the kitchen table. “What are you trying to poison me with now?”

“Don’t you like them?”

“No I don’t!” said Charlotte, picking out any little bits that were left in her teeth.

“Oh, I think parsnipflakes are much tastier than cornflakes.”

“Really? Yes … well you would, because … because you’re clearly insane. Insane, crazy, mental and … and just plain STUPID.”

“Oh, Charlie dear.” Granny G’s voice was wobbly. “Please don’t say things like that. I might be old, but I do have feelings.”

Charlotte looked at Granny G. It was the first time she’d ever seen her not smiling. Her flabby face looked all saggy. Her huge glasses made her sad eyes look hugely sad. Even her huge bottom seemed saggier. Her eyes started to fill up. And suddenly, Charlotte felt very strange. It took her a few seconds to work out what it was. She felt … she felt sorry for her. Charlotte had never felt sorry for anyone, apart from herself. It was a very weird feeling for her.

“Charlie, say sorry.” Charlotte said quietly.

Charlotte dropped her chin to make her voice sound a little bit lower. “Sorry.”

Granny G’s chin lifted a little, “Oh, well, no real harm done.” She sniffed. “It’s just that … well, some thoughts are best left unsaid.” Granny G smiled in the general direction of the table. “Now, Charlotte dear, how about some … pancakes?”

“Pancakes? Really?” Charlotte couldn’t believe her luck. “… Yes … please.” She even managed a small smile.

“What would you like on them? I’ve got cheese, dandelion sauce, cucumber jam or some lovely fresh beetroot.” Granny G poured some batter into the frying pan.

“Can’t I just have lemon juice and sugar?”

“Really? Good grief! I would never have thought of that. Gosh, my cheese pancakes must sound quite boring to you.” Granny G giggled as her mind whirled, “lemon and sugar would work well with … hmmm … Stilton … and …. oh yes, Camembert. Go and fetch a couple of lemons from the pantry, would you dear?”

Charlotte huffed. She’d only just sat back down again. “Alright.” She mooched into the pantry, fetched two lemons and put them on the side near Granny Greenslade. She sat back down again.

“You’ll find some sharp knives in the left hand drawer.” Granny Greenslade shouted, as she flipped a pancake onto the floor. “Ooh, light as a feather, these pancakes!”

As Charlotte went to get a knife for the lemon, Rufus opened one eye, managed a whole sniff and plodded across the kitchen floor. He scoffed the pancake, licked the floor clean and walked back towards the door. He fell asleep half way there.

Eventually they sat down to breakfast. Charlotte ate three pancakes, smothered with lemon and sugar. Granny Greenslade had three pancakes with white, blue, black and green cheese slices, lemon, sugar, beetroot and cucumber jam. Rufus had nine pancakes, and very possibly a tummy ache.

Granny Greenslade licked her lips. “Mmm Mmm! Delightful! Thank you Charlotte, for such a good idea.” She went to clear the plates up. “Gosh you must have been hungry, you two. I thought there would have been some left for Mr Lumsden. Never mind.”

Charlotte got up without saying thank you, and went upstairs to have a big bubble bath.

“Tsk, I see Charlie isn’t going to help with the washing up again. But because you were such a good girl, helping me with breakfast and giving me a new recipe idea, you don’t have to wash up either. I’ll do it.” As usual, the coat stand didn’t reply.

Granny Greenslade’s bath was massive. It had to be massive to allow her massive bottom to fit in it. Charlotte loved steaming hot, deep bubble baths. She turned the hot tap full on. She used up all the hot water. Soon enough, steam filled the bathroom. There were loads of pots of liquids and bowls of bath salts on the table to choose from. Charlotte poured in two capfuls of bubble bath, sprinkled on a handful of rose petals, two scoops of white salts and the rest of a small jar of some pretty red stuff too. The smell was unusual, but nicer than most of the smells she’d smelt lately. She climbed in for a long soak.

Half an hour later, Granny Greenslade was banging on the door.

“Oooo hooo. Mind if I come in dear? I promise I won’t look. I just need one of the jars off the table.”

“Er … OK. I suppose so.” Charlotte called through the steam. Granny G couldn’t see her in a clear room, so she thought she was pretty safe.

Granny G walked in with her eyes closed. She went straight to the table, picked up the little jar that Charlotte had emptied, and walked back to the door. “Thank you, er Charlotte or Charlie. I thought I’d left it in here.” She walked out. “This saffron always works so well in my sauces.” She shut the door.

Saffron. Saffron? Charlotte remembered the name ‘saffron’ from cookery club at school. Something about … expensive … flowers … colour. Colour! Charlotte jumped out of the bath. She looked at herself. She was bright orange! “Aaagh!” She tried to rub it off with some fluffy white towels. She glowed. So did the towels. She tried to wash it off with fresh water, but there was only cold water left. “Aaaaaghh!”