"No. I am not ready. Do I look like I'm ready?"

I was lying on a sun lounger by the pool at our villa in St Kitty in the Caribbean, my mobile in one hand and a chocolate chip milk-shake in the other. Coco was also lying on the sunbed next to mine, also wearing shades. She's my dog - a pink bichon frisé. (Everyone at my last school had a dinky dog, but no one had theirs dyed the way I had. I had to do something - all the pooches looked the same, white and cute but now Coco stands out in a crowd and matches my new nail color perfectly.)

I'd just been thinking how utterly coil life was here on this paradise island when I was rudely interrupted by a demand as to whether I was ready to leave. Anyone with half brain should have been able to see that I was clearly not prepared to board a flight to Europe. Like what kind of idiot would travel to Paris in a turquoise bikini? Even if it is from Prada's new collection and on everyone's must have list for the season? We used to live in England when I was younger so I know how cold it is over in that part of the world. Like, Brrrfreezingville.

"Sorry, Miss Hedley-Dent, but..." whinged Henry. (he's my dads chauffeur, PA and a handyman, though you'd hardly know it. In his usual grab of Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirt, and his shoulder-length blond hair, he looks more like a professional surfer than a servant.)

"What now Henry?" I was beginning to feel cross and would have been more snappy if it weren't for the fact that my friend Tipsy was on hold, waiting for me, on the other end of the phone.

Just, er... the plane has been ready for some time now and the pilot has been waiting for you for over an hour."

"So? Tell him that he may have to wait another hour because I'm not ready yet and I wanna catch some more rays before I leave."

"May I at least give him some idea of when you may be ready to take off?"

I gave Henry my best withering look. Tigs and I'd practiced it for ages in the mirror at the school last year before I got expelled. One eyebrow up, nostrils breathed in and lips tight. Right said that I appeared more constipated than cross when I do the "look" but, whatever, Henry got the message. backed out of the room and closed the door. He's so pathetic when he does that droning on the thing. Like timetables...airports... Like its my problem. Not.

At last I could resume my call. I lay back on my lounger,took a sip of my milk\-shake and, erhhh... I spat out the shake. It was like LUKEWORM!

Shirla. SHIRLA," I called.

A few minutes later, Shirla, our Caribbean housekeeper, came out from the house. She always does everything soo **SLOWLY**. Like its all one mighty effort. Probably due to the fact that she is about five million heavy stones. She's like a house on legs. Legs that are made of jelly \- she doesn't walk much as wobbles along her way. I pointed at the glass. "More ice. And a dab of more yummy chocolate."

"Oo you likes the chocolate. If not you not careful girl, you are going to become one big melted chocolate in that sun." she said as she swayed over, took the glass,then waddled off towards the kitchen.

"Oh and can you get Mason to do some chips before the flight takes off. Those square ones he does. And bring a pot of that scrummy sour cream and chives to dunk them in. And something for Coco." \(Mason is our cook and Shirla husband. They're odd couple, he's skinny as she is large.\)

Shirla stopped for a moment. "Uhuh, I guess I could ," she said,but you ought to eat some green one of these days or else them spots on your chin there are going to be breaking all over your pretty face . And you don't give your dog chocolate neither. It ain't right." She tutted herself then disappeared inside before I could say anything.

I picked up the phone again.

"Yum. Chips," said Tigsy at the other end. "Think I'll get our maid to do some. I lurve some chips." "Sorry Tigs, I guess you heard all that ? Can you believe it? Henry trying to tell **me** when we have to leave , like, who pays round here?"

"**Exactement**," said Tigsy. "You have to let them show who is the boss, yeah?" "Yeah. It's like Mummy's fault. She's way too nice with all. Like a little mouse. She's like, er, pardon me for squeaking. And Dads like never here, so what can one expect? It's left to me to let them know who's in charge. Like I haven't got enough to do as it is."

"Totally."

I stared out over the infinity pool and the sea beyond. It was glistening with a thousand tiny stars in the afternoon sun. "Yeah. Like sometimes I think that just because I'm only fourteen, they can tell me what to do But I say, no way. No way."

" Yeah. No way. Er, but, Leonore, I'm not being difficult or anything but one thing I do know and that is sometimes when travelling like, doing a strop can work against you. Like, it's the beginning of December, coming up to Christmas yeah?"

"Yeah. Like , deck the halls with Christmas holly blah de blah de blah, de blah de yawn."

"So everyone's on move , yeah? Not just us?"

"I guess."

"Well I know from when Daddy does his own bookings for coming into land in our ickle jet, if you miss your slot, particularly at busy times, you don't get another."

"Up. Um problemo you think? So you're saying what exactly?"

Tigsy laughed at the other end of the phone. "That you'd better get your stonkingly rich butt off that island in Caribean, Leonora Hadley-Dent, and onto the jet or else we'RE not going to be able to do our shopping trip in Paris and get back in time for Christmas."

"Like I care about Christmas. Had bumhug to all that, I say, it's just another excuse for the staff to skive off for the day," I sad but did not get up, slip my feet into my Gucci mules with the kitten heels and make my way through the French windows to my bedroom. Coco followed me. She's soooooooo cute. She walks like she's wearing heels too.

"I know,"said Tigsy. "Three weeks to go and it will all be one big bore as usual. The fun part will be you being here and shopping beforehand, although three will be presents on the day. Daddy said he might get me a diamond Cartier watch this year. I've put it on the list as I am getting tired of my Rolex. It's so last season. But really, Lee Lee, I mean, I'm going to be OK for getting to Paris. I'm in Geneva and only have to hop on a train to get there."

"It's cool. I get you. I'll get a move on," I said as I took a couple of chocolate bars out of a drawer and flung them into the suitcase on the bed. "I'm packing as we speak but I'm not going to let Henry think that I'm doing it for him."

"No. Course not. But do hurry. I've got no-one to play over here."

"I'll see you soon."

"Excellent. Kissy-Kissy. Daddy's booked us the whole of the top floor at the George the fifth hotel. I've been there before when Imelda Parker Knowles had her sixteen Birthday bash there in the summer. It's utterly dinky. I think you'll like it."

"Soooree. Packing. Be there. Bysie-bye."

"Bysie-bye."