Read Online The Yoghurt Plot by Fleur Hitchcock - Free Book Online Page A

them without being spotted.’
    â€˜Otherwise, ping,’ says Lorna.
    I nod.
    Three figures come in through the door. I recognise Dilan’s silhouette, but not my own. They crawl in under the seats until they’re sitting really close to us, so close I can see the hairs on Lorna’s legs, and hear myself breathe.
    If I reached out my arms I could touch myself. It’s almost tempting, but I don’t know what would happen and so I won’t risk it.
    Instead I glue my eyes to the new Lorna’s pockets. It takes less than a minute for the first gerbil to make an attempt at escaping. It sticks its nose over the rib of the pocket and clambers out.
    It sniffs the air and plunges down towards the floor.
    The second one follows.
    The real Lorna kneels forward and grabs the first one, handing it to me while she leans to catch the second one.
    I hold the little thing close in my hands and pray that it doesn’t bite. It’s warm and soft and squeaky.
    The previous versions of ourselves starts to search for the gerbils. We crawl around from one side of the audience to the other, keeping our heads down and waiting. We really mustn’t interfere with anything, otherwise we might get stuck in some kind of time limbo.
    Maybe that’s what ghosts are – people who time-travelled and got stuck.
    I’m just thinking about this when I notice that the other Lorna and Dilan and Bugg have left.
    â€˜Whew!’ says the real Lorna next to me, and holds up her gerbil to kiss its nose. A nose that’s pointy and very like her own. ‘Well done, Bunfight. You made it back to Mummy, safe and sound.’
    I’m not going to explain to Lorna why she couldn’t possibly be mother to a gerbil, but I’m sure I’m still sitting staring open-mouthed at her when the one I’m holding, Coleridge, makes a lunge for it and leaps from my hands.
    â€˜Aaaargh!’ screams a woman. ‘Children!’ she shouts. ‘There are children under the seats – with rats!’
    â€˜Quick, run,’ I yelp, diving towards the escaped gerbil, grabbing it with one hand and using the other to slide backwards under the seats before heading for the door.
    â€˜Not so quick, nipper,’ says a big man blocking the exit, reaching out towards me. ‘Let’s have a look at your ticket.’
    â€˜Bugg!’ yells Lorna. ‘This way!’
    I look back and see her charging straight for the dance floor and the main exit. ‘Sorry,’ I say, as I duck around the big man, feel his fingers trail across my T-shirt and follow her through the dancing couples. They barely miss a beat, shimmying around us, closing the gap behind, all net, make-up and sequins. The Granddad/Dad man and his partner sidestep to let us through, and she slips me a wink, and for a moment she looks exactly like someone I know, but I can’t think who, and I really want to stop and talk to them, but all I can say is, ‘Sorry,’ before the house lights come up and I realise I’m going to be caught if I don’t speed up.
    We make it out through the doors and keep running. Before long we’re clear of the pier. Lorna dodges through the streets until we’re back near the shop, where she stops and sinks to the ground laughing and coughing. ‘That was great! Can we do it again? I could smell the make-up.’
    I’m breathless, I can hardly speak, but I’m so furious with her I force the words out: ‘If you’d left your stupid gerbils at home in the first place, none of this would have happened.’ I hand Coleridge over. He’s curled into a tiny ball and letting out what I suppose is a gerbil moan. A sort of squeak really.
    Lorna snatches him off me and rams him into her cardigan pocket. ‘I always have them, except for school. Mum makes me keep them in separate cages. This is the only way they can be together.’
    â€˜Well, I wish you didn’t, and I wish