Jenny Valentine - Iggy and Me on Holiday

Mum looked at Iggy. She looked at her once and then she looked again.

“Why do you look lumpy?” Mum said.

Iggy smiled like she had a secret she was very proud of.

“What have you got on?” Mum said.

“She’s wearing her packing,” I told her.

“What does that mean?” Dad said, coming into the room behind Mum.

Iggy twiddled her hair again. She took her sunhat out of her pocket and put it on.

Dad looked at Iggy and frowned.

“What are you hiding about your person?”

“Nothing,” Iggy said. “I haven’t got a person. I’ve got Barnaby and he’s got his own suitcase and his clothes are too small for me anyway.”

Mum lifted up Iggy’s T-shirt and found another T-shirt, and then another one, and then another one, and then her swimsuit.

Mum pulled at Iggy’s shorts and found another pair, and four pairs of pants, and even more swimsuit.

“Well I never,” said Dad.

“What happens if you need a wee?” Mum said.

Iggy crossed her legs. “Don’t talk about it,” she said.

“You’re a human suitcase,” Dad said, and Iggy pointed at him.

“No I’m not,” she said.

“At least if you fall over on holiday, you won’t hurt yourself,” he said. “You’re all nice and padded.”

Mum said, “Why aren’t you using your rucksack?”

“It’s full,” Iggy said. “It’s all full up.”

“With what?” Mum said.

“Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger,” Iggy told her.

“The four horsemen of the apocalypse,” Dad said.

“No, silly,” Iggy said. “They’re not horses. They are two penguins and a polar bear and a dog.”

“You’re right,” Dad said. “Yes they are. And they’re not coming on holiday with us.”

“Why not?” Iggy said.

“Because they are two penguins and a polar bear and a dog.”

“Penguins and polar bears like the sea,” I said.

“And dogs like the beach,” Iggy added.

“They won’t like this beach,” Dad said, “because they’re not coming.”

Iggy’s eyebrows went pink. “We can’t leave them at home,” she said. “Barnaby won’t have any friends on holiday if we do that.”

“Yes we can,” said Dad, and Iggy’s eyebrows got pinker and pinker.

“I see,” Mum said.

“See what?” Dad said.

“The problem,” Mum said.

“They want to come too,” Iggy said. “They really want to.”

“Oh dear,” said Mum.

“Barnaby gets to come,” Iggy said, “and it’s not fair on the others. And he’ll be lonely.”

“Never mind,” said Dad.

“Can’t they fit?” I asked them. “Can’t Gloria and Mumble and Polly and Ranger and Barnaby all squeeze in the car with us?”

“No,” Dad said. “They’re not invited.”

“I invited them,” Iggy said. “Please can they come?”

“Not really,” said Mum.

“Why not?” Iggy said.

“They take up too much room,” Dad said.

“We can move up,” I told him.

Iggy grinned and nodded and did a little dance with just her hands. “And they can make themselves really small,” she said. “They squashed right up to fit in my rucksack. They didn’t complain.”

“Here we go,” said Dad.

“Can they?” Iggy said, and I said, “Go on, let them.”

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