THE GIRL WHOSE CAKES TOLD SECRETS

THE GIRL WHOSE CAKES TOLD SECRETS
a Stickleback Crescent story
by Lulah Ellender

Stickleback Crescent is a small road with nine ordinary-looking houses and a green with a large old oak tree in the middle. It is a place where things aren’t always as they seem, a place where magic happens…

This is a story about a girl, some very strange cakes and a notebook full of secrets. It begins with Meg Hopple (aged 10 ½), who was sitting on the doorstep of No.5 Stickleback Crescent biting on a schoolbook. She often bit things when she was angry, and this book was suffering thanks to Meg’s fury with her older sister, Sarah.
Sarah was fifteen and grumpy and hated just about everything (except Ryan Baker in Year 12). The girls often squabbled, but this time Sarah had done something unforgivable - she had stolen Meg’s diary. Worse still, that horrible bigmouth had threatened to tell everyone about Meg’s secret mole. This was not the cute furry kind of mole, who leaves piles of mud on people’s lawns, but the kind of lump or freckle most of us have somewhere on our bodies. The mole on Meg’s tummy was no ordinary knobbly bit. For some reason Meg had named this mole ‘Morris’ and had sort of made friends with it. She had once even knitted it a bobble hat. And now her secret was out and all her friends would laugh at her and people would think she was weird and her whole life would be ruined. Or so it felt to Meg.
“I hate her SO much!” she hissed, spitting out a bit of paper. “I have to do something to stop her blabbing about Morris”. Meg scratched her ear and thought how amazing it would be if she could discover Sarah’s secrets. Once, Meg had hidden inside Sarah’s wardrobe to listen to what went on when Sarah’s pouty, flouncy friends came over. After a few minutes listening to boring chat about false nails, Meg had sneezed. Sarah had discovered the spy and thrown Meg out of the room. So that obviously wouldn’t work. No, she needed another means of discovering Sarah’s deepest secrets. Slowly, Meg went inside the house, still simmering with rage, her head whirring with ideas and plots.

The next morning Meg had more important things to worry about. Meg, Sarah and their mum lived with their granny in a neat but faded house in Stickleback Crescent. The girls had moved in when Granny Hopple had got too old to live alone. Meg loved her granny, and to celebrate the old woman’s 80th birthday Meg had organised a street party on the green. She had invited the whole street, making invitations out of old luggage labels and feathers. Meg loved organising and she loved cooking, so she was as happy as could be, despite running a bit late thanks to her dodgy alarm clock. With only an hour to go and masses of food to make, Meg whizzed around the kitchen like a tornado wrapped in icing sugar. The brown curls bursting from her lucky hat(which she always wore whilst baking) were dusted with flour. The table was a jumble of bowls, paper cake cases, spoons and broken eggshells.
“Oh Granny, I’ll never get them done in time!” Meg cried, pushing a curl out of her eye and smearing purple icing across her forehead.
“Of course you will, darling. They look fantastic, Meggy. Just try not to panic. The party isn’t for a while yet,” reassured the old lady, who sat across the table from Meg. “Here, let me help.”
Granny Hopple reached over and carefully picked up one of the small cupcakes Meg was busily decorating. She was covered in icing sugar, and looked like a small ghost. Her bright blue eyes sparkled and her hair was twisted into a bun like a ball of grey wool. She spooned a blob of icing onto the cake and looked up at her granddaughter.
“It’s very good of you to do this, Meggy. And to invite all the neighbours! It’s a shame your mum had to work – it’s not every day I turn 80!” she said quietly, putting down the cake and sighing. “Eighty years. Can you believe it?”
Meg interrupted her granny before she began the long story about how she became an opera singer and sang for kings and queens, “I know, Granny, it’s amazing. But please help with this icing! I’ve still got the jam tarts to fill. Where’s Sarah? Why isn’t she helping?”
As a result of knowing her sister’s secret, and enjoying the power that gave her, Sarah was actually feeling quite cheerful on the day of Granny’s party. She mooched into the kitchen wearing pyjama trousers and a huge jumper. “Pheeeew!”, she whistled. “ Look at this mess! You’ll be in trouble when Mum gets back.”
“I’ll tidy it up. But please can you help? Everyone will be out there soon and I still have to do these cakes. Go on – it is Granny’s birthday”, Meg pleaded.
Now, Sarah usually found her granny annoying. She resented the time she and Meg spent looking after the old woman. (They often missed out on going to friends’ houses or trips to the cinema because they had to get home to Granny Hopple.) But today was special. Sarah sucked her in her cheeks and said grudgingly, “OK. I’ll take this lot out.” She picked up a tray of biscuits and went out into the street. From the kitchen window Meg could see Sarah admiring the party decorations. Meg had put out picnic rugs and blankets and hung balloons from the old oak tree in the middle. She had decorated old jam jars with shiny paper and filled them with tiny candles. It looked lovely. Meg watched her sister plonk the tray onto a rug and run back inside. Suddenly Meg’s happy mood was burst by the horrible memory of what Sarah had done the day before.
“I’ll get you back, just you see!” Meg whispered to herself, before plunging back into the frenzy of pasting, sprinkling and dotting sweets onto cakes. She and Granny Hopple started singing loudly, Granny in tune but slightly warbling and Meg sounding like a car skidding round a corner. They shared their love of cooking and Granny Hopple had taught Meg to make the scrumptious cakes, delicious biscuits and perfect pies that the lucky residents of the street would soon be enjoying.
“Oh, you two are so embarrassing!” said Sarah, rolling her eyes at the crooning pair. As Sarah stomped upstairs to get dressed for the party, Meg was sure she saw her sister wink nastily at her.
After a few final touches the food was ready. Meg helped her granny up out of the chair and fetched her walking frame. The old woman slowly shuffled to the door. Meg used to find Granny Hopple’s snail-paced walking really frustrating, but she had come to like the fact that her granny was never in a rush. (Unlike Meg, who was as thin as a noodle and never sat still for a minute. Her teachers were constantly nagging her to stop fidgeting.) As they emerged into the street a small crowd had already gathered on the green. The residents of the Crescent (who looked as odd an assortment of
people as you’d ever find anywhere) cheered and whooped as Granny shuffled across the road.

Within minutes everyone was eating, laughing and chatting. Old Mr Broda had brought his violin and began playing a creaky tune. Meg was carrying a plate of cupcakes, handing them out to people, when she suddenly realised there was something very strange about the cakes. As Mr Rahman put one to his mouth Meg noticed some silver writing appearing on the icing.
“Stop, Mr Rahman! Something’s wrong with your cake!” she yelped, snatching the cake and peering at the icing.
“What’s wrong Meg? It looks perfectly fine to me! Come on now, stop being such a fusspot!” Mr Rahman reached over and took back the cake, holding it up to the light. His face was blank. Unlike Meg’s. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth was drooping open.
“Can’t you see it? The writing! There!” Meg pointed to the purple icing upon which the words AFRAID OF BAKED BEANS had appeared. Mr Rahman began to look a bit cross. “Meg Hopple if there’s something the matter please tell me now, otherwise give me back my cake and let me enjoy the party” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Meg’s gaze went from the cake to Mr Rahman and back again, like someone watching the ball in a tennis match. An incredible idea swished across Meg’s mind: what if the cake was telling her a secret? She decided to pretend she hadn’t seen anything. She smiled and said “I’m so sorry Mr Rahman. It’s nothing. Here’s your cake.” Meg then ran to the tree and grabbed a pencil and her notebook (which she always kept in her back pocket for moments like this). Sitting in the shadow of the trunk she scribbled I think I may have discovered a way to find out people’s secrets! Mr Rahman is afraid of baked beans!!? and then went back to the party. She felt confused but strangely tingly. Sarah had arrived, dressed as if she were going to a disco. She was wearing a sparkly short skirt, a long vest top and shoes with
heels like large wedges of cheese. Meg realised this could be the chance to get revenge on her sister for reading her diary. She would give Sarah a cake and see if anything appeared. She walked casually up to her sister, who was teetering on the edge of the green trying to look bored. Meg offered her a cake and then stared.
“What’s up with you Megglebum? Why are you looking at me like that?” Sarah asked, scrunching up her perfect button nose.
Meg shrugged coolly and passed her sister a cake. As Sarah reached out and chose one of the cupcakes, Meg was stunned to see something emerging on the icing. Faint at first, then getting clearer, she was absolutely certain that she could see the words PRACTISES KISSING HER PILLOW in the icing. Sarah took a large bite. Meg gulped and said, “Sarah, do you practise kissing your pillow?” At this Sarah made a sound like a cat swallowing a hedgehog, and spat out a mouthful of cake.
“You little creep! Have you been hiding in my cupboard again? I’ll kill you, I swear, if you tell a single person. And if you ever mention that again I will sneak into your room while you are asleep and and and...cut off all your hair!” she spluttered. She turned, wobbling on her silly shoes, and stomped off.
Meg giggled and then had a fantastic thought. “These cakes are actually telling me real secret secrets! Ha ha! I’ll have some fun now!” She scribbled Sarah’s secret in her notebook and ran back to the crowd of people, grabbing another batch of cakes from a tin. Placing the magical cakes carefully on the plate, Meg looked around for someone who looked like they had a really juicy secret. She spotted Mr Broda resting against a chair. He looked like a fluffy scarecrow, his hair sticking up and his arms flapping as he spoke. Meg offered him a cake and watched, holding her breath, as he chose one. Mr Broda gave her a funny look (she really was staring) and began to pick the sweets off the top with his teeth. Nothing happened. Meg was very disappointed and began to think she must have imagined the whole thing. But then it started. Slowly she recognised some words appearing across the cake. The secret was this: NOSE IS MADE OF GOLD.
Meg coughed and turned away. Surely that couldn’t be true! Perhaps the cakes were just making up any old nonsense. But then why had Sarah got so angry? From a safe distance Meg turned back and examined Mr Broda’s nose. It did look rather strange, kind of solid and too straight. Meg wrote this secret down but put a question-mark beside it.
Next she approached Mrs Brand. She decided to test the cakes. She already knew a secret about Mrs Brand that her son Cody had once blurted
out. Sure enough, when the woman took a cake the writing in the icing said NEW PAIR OF SHOES FOR EACH DAY OF YEAR.
“Aha!” Meg cried, triumphantly.
“Whatever do you mean, Meg?” asked Mrs Brand, looking rather surprised.
“Oh, umm, it’s just that I made a bet with myself that you would choose the one with the blue liquorice on it, and you did. Bye then. Enjoy the party!” Meg said, trying to sound breezy. She knew the cake was right. Cody had told her that his mum has 365 pairs of shoes, all lined up in the order she wore them. She never cleans them so she can go back to any pair and tell you what the weather was like on that particular day of the year (mud= rain, dust=hot etc.) Meg sat down in the shade of the tree, away from the crowd. She had completely forgotten about the party now and was just trying to take in the importance of what had happened. She took out her notebook and wrote:

IMPORTANT NOTES ABOUT THE CAKES
1) They seem to know everyone’s secrets
2) No-one else can see the writing
3) I have made magic cakes with amazing powers
4) I will know everyone’s secrets so I too will have amazing powers
5) What do I do next? Should I keep the secrets secret?

Just then, Granny Hopple called, “Meggy, darling, stop your scribbling and come over here”.
Meg rejoined the party, carrying the cakes carefully, protecting them with her arm so no-one could take one. She smiled at her Granny, who looked like she was having a great time. The old lady said, “Come here with those cakes, sweetie. I haven’t had one yet.”
Meg froze. She really didn’t want to know a secret about her own granny. What if the cake told her something terrible and she would never be
able to forget it and she couldn’t look her granny in the eye and she would have to run away and live in a cardboard box? But it was too late. Granny Hopple had reached out with a spindly arm and grabbed a cupcake. Instead of eating it she put in on her lap and carried on talking to Mr Rogers about football (Granny supported Tottenham Hotspur).
Meg had to listen to a very boring conversation about penalty shoot-outs before her granny finally remembered the cake. Meg watched nervously as the cake slowly made its way to the old lady’s mouth. Sure enough, something was emerging. The writing said this: KEEPS A THUMB IN A MATCHBOX. Meg looked stunned. Could that really be true? How disgusting! She looked at her granny, at the twinkly eyes and mischievous smile. Suddenly, Meg wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more secrets. But her curiosity was stronger than her fear. She carried on passing the cakes round.

As the party went on and more people ate the cupcakes, Meg learned incredible things about her neighbours, things she could never have imagined (and she had a pretty wild imagination). She noted them all down in her book and tried to act normally. When everyone had gone Meg began tidying up. Her mum had managed to get home early and had taken Granny in for her medicine. Sarah, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Ryan ‘Bugface’ (as Meg called him, due to his goggly eyes) had turned up on his skateboard. Sarah must have gone with him to the skate-park to watch the boys skimming
around whilst she looked pretty and pretended to be know what a kick-flip ollie was. All evening Meg was distracted and jittery with excitement.
“Meg, you look worn out lovey,” said her mum. “You’ve done so well today. The party was wonderful. Why don’t you go and have a lie down for a bit? You’re getting all jumpy”. Meg decided this was a good idea, and went upstairs to her room,
She stared at the faded, rose-covered wallpaper and her Collection Shelf, where she put important things she had found. There was an old tin doll, a huge brown button, some empty cotton reels, a wooden box, a black cowbell with a dent in the side and a book of poems. She loved her room – it was her safe place. As she curled up on the bed, she took out her notebook and re-read all the things she had discovered.

If you have ever kept something really important secret for a long time you will understand how Meg felt that night. She was nearly bursting with the excitement of making such magical cakes, but felt guilty that she knew all
those things about the people in Stickleback Crescent. Things she would never have believed and should never have found out. Things like the fact that Mrs Rogers sleepwalks and once woke up to find herself on a branch halfway up the oak tree; that Mrs Sage is training to swim the Channel; that Jem Rogers is afraid of Lego; that the twins at No.8 will only eat peas that are
a certain size; that Mr Flybody keeps a bat under his hat. Eventually, Meg fell asleep. She dreamed about being squashed by an enormous cake.

The next morning Meg felt slightly odd. As she got out of bed she tripped over her nightdress, which was dragging on the floor, and she noticed that the sleeves were dangling over her hands. When she went to brush her teeth she found she could only see the top of her head in the mirror. At breakfast her chin only just reached over the table.
“Sit up Meggy, love” scolded her mum.
“I am!” said Meg crossly. She was now feeling very strange.
Granny Hopple looked worriedly at Meg and said, “Are you alright Meg? I hope you haven’t overdone it what with the party and everything. You do look peculiar. Sort of smaller somehow!”
“I’m fine. Just a bit tired. And feverish. Yes, Mum - I think I’ve got a fever. Can I stay at home today? I feel soooooo ill”, groaned Meg. She slid off
the chair and went back to her room. She could only just reach the light-switch.
“What’s happening?” she thought, getting really worried. Her mother came in and gave Meg a thermometer, then went to the bathroom to find some medicine. Meg put the thermometer up inside her lamp and watched the red line creep slowly up the stick. When she heard her mum coming back, Meg jumped into bed and put the thermometer in her mouth.
“Oh dear”, said her mum, looking at the thermometer. “That’s really quite bad, Meg. You shouldn’t go to school with a temperature like that. But I have a really important meeting and I just can’t stay off work today. Will you be OK with Granny? You can ring me if you feel worse. A bit of rest and some medicine should do the trick.”

Once she was sure her mum and Sarah had gone out, and she could hear the little puffy snores of her granny having a nap, Meg got out of bed. She went into Sarah’s room and looked in her long mirror. With horror she saw that what she had feared was actually true: she had shrunk. Meg ran back into her room and fell, sobbing onto the bed. After a minute or two of feeling very sorry for herself, she stopped crying and got out her notebook.
She wrote:

POSSIBLE REASONS WHY I AM SHRINKING
1)

But there seemed to be no explanation. All she could think of was the secrets that she was carrying around in her head. Were they somehow connected to the fact that her lucky hat now completely covered her face and her socks looked like long lumpy snakes?
“What will happen if I carry on shrinking?” thought Meg. “I will just disappear and no-one will know what has happened!” The thought was too
terrifying. Meg decided she needed help. And the only person she really trusted in the world was her granny.
Meg tiptoed into her granny’s room. She sat beside Granny Hopple’s bed and watched her mouth pout out snores like a tiny fountain. The wrinkles on the old lady’s face were deep, but Meg thought it was a beautiful face. Her granny always smelt of talcum powder and lavender. Suddenly, one of Granny Hopple’s eyes flicked open. Meg jumped.
“Meg! I’ve told you before, it’s very off-putting to have someone stare at you while you are napping!” Granny Hopple tutted, opening the other eye and sitting up. Meg fluffed up a pillow behind her granny’s back and said, “I’m sorry Granny. It’s just that I am in trouble and I really need your help”.
And then it all poured out, about the cakes and the secrets and the shrinking. Granny Hopple sat quietly, looking at Meg. When Meg had finished, Granny Hopple took a deep breath.

“That’s quite a story! First, let’s sort out the business about the thumb in a matchbox. Don’t worry, I haven’t chopped it off someone! It was your grandfather’s – he lost it in a tightrope accident when he was a young man. I know it’s strange, but it’s all I have left of him” she said, pausing.
“Poor Mr Rahman! How could anyone be afraid of baked beans, I wonder? Anyway, that’s not important. The problem of knowing these secrets is one you will have to sort out for yourself. You should be careful what you wish for, you know.” Granny Hopple leaned towards Meg’s anxious face.
“Listen up Meggy, darling. I think the weight of all these secrets is making you shrink. You are carrying around things in your head that shouldn’t be there and they are crushing you. We have to do something. And fast, before you end up the size of a flea!”
Meg went back to her room and thought hard. She had to find a way to break the power of the secrets...Finally, and with Granny’s agreement, she came up with a plan.

And so it was that later that day notes were pushed through every door in Stickleback Crescent. The notes said

Urgent Meeting of All Stickleback Crescent People
Tonight, 7pm, under the oak tree.
From Meg Hopple

That evening Meg rummaged through her chest of drawers trying to find some old out-grown clothes that might fit her again. She had continued to shrink, slowly but surely, for the rest of the day and she was scared. ”What if the plan fails?” whispered a niggly voice in her head for the hundredth time that day. At last she found a pair of brown shorts which would do as trousers, and a jumper that Sarah had shrunk in the washing machine. She put on her lucky hat, pushed it to the back of her head so she could see out, and walked down to Granny’s room. Sarah was standing by the stairs.
“What is this?” she sneered, holding Granny’s note between her finger and thumb, as if it were a dead fish. She hadn’t noticed the fact that her sister was much smaller than usual.
“I can’t explain now, but just for once will you do what you are asked Sarah!” came Granny’s cross voice from her room.
They made a funny threesome: Sarah with her blue eye make-up and enormous earrings, Granny shuffling along with her walking frame and Meg tumbling over her trousers every few steps. It was seven o’clock exactly. A crowd was forming on the green. There was a faint muttering and complaining, which soon died down once Granny Hopple came closer. She raised her hand dramatically and said in a too-loud voice,
“Thank you for coming everyone. My granddaughter has asked you here this evening to help her with a very serious problem.”
People looked at one another and then at Meg and Sarah.
“Has that Sarah been at my cherry tree again?” roared Mr Mayweather. (Mr Mayweather used to stand outside in his garden ringing a bell at four o’clock every morning to scare the birds off his cherries. Sarah’s window overlooked his garden and she had got so fed up with his bell-ringing that one night she sneaked over the fence and cut off all the cherries from his tree. In their place she hung ping-pong balls. Mr Mayweather had called the police,
and there was quite a hoo-hah. Sarah had been grounded for a month and had to rake up all the leaves in Mr Mayweather’s garden every Saturday.)
“No, no, no Mr Mayweather. That little matter has been dealt with. No, this is much, much worse. And it is going to need each and every one of you to do something very brave. Remember those delicious cupcakes we all enjoyed yesterday, made by Meggy here? Well, they turned out to be rather peculiar.”
“I told you my stomach wasn’t right last night” Mr Rahman muttered to his wife. “Did you use funny eggs or something Meg?"
“Ummm, no, Mr Rahman. The cakes were magic. They told me secrets. In the icing. Secrets about all of you were written in their icing” replied Meg, her voice trembling. She felt the ground getting closer and her arms
slipping further into her jumper. Each time she thought about the secrets she shrank a bit more. The people on the green stared at Meg. Some giggled but others, who knew about the strange things that had happened before in Stickleback Crescent, went very quiet.
“The thing is,” explained Granny Hopple, “these secrets are making Meggy shrink. It’s too much for a young girl to be carrying around in her head. And unless we do something she is going to disappear!”
There were gasps and shouts as Meg shrivelled noticeably. Sarah screamed. Granny Hopple tried to calm everyone down.
“We must all take a piece of paper and write down our secret, putting our names at the top of the paper. This is very important. We are then going to put them in a hat and pick one each to read aloud” she said, in her most serious voice.
“You see,” added Meg, “I think that the secrets will lose their power once they aren’t secrets any more.”
A few people objected but when they saw Meg’s anxious face they realised they had to put aside their own feelings and be courageous. One by one they took the paper from Meg and scrawled, printed and scribbled the very things they had been trying to hide from everyone else. At the request for a hat, Mr Flybody shrugged and mumbled, “Well, you’ll find out soon enough.
Here, have this one.” As he removed his crumpled black top hat a small furry bat flew out and hung upside-down from a branch above the man’s head. Meg smiled gratefully and took the hat round the crowd. When all the bits of paper were safely in the hat she went back round and one by one the residents of Stickleback Crescent nervously pulled out a secret.
Mr Mayweather read out the first secret quietly and hesitantly, unable to look anyone in the eye. But, strangely enough, Mrs Brand (whose secret had just been revealed) clapped her hands and let out a whoop of delight. The next secret belonged to Jem Rogers, who also burst out laughing when he heard it read aloud. And with each secret that was read out the noise of laughter on the green got louder and louder. They weren’t laughing at each other, but with the relief of not having to hide their secrets away any more. And how silly their secrets suddenly seemed! Of course, the cakes had not revealed any nasty or really private things, only the harmless and dreamy kind of secrets we all have hidden away somewhere. Sarah collected the pieces of paper and began tying them onto the branches of the tree.

After a few minutes of excited chatter and exclaiming everyone noticed Meg. She was standing under the tree. Her trousers suddenly looked more like pants and her arms poked out of the tiny jumper like two lolly sticks.
“It’s working!” she cried, leaping around madly. She was back to her normal size.

The funny thing was, everyone went home that evening feeling a bit taller - like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. Meg never managed to make another batch of magic secret-telling cupcakes, and she didn’t want to. The residents of Stickleback Crescent decided that every year, on Granny Hopple’s birthday, they would hang a secret from the oak tree and spend the year either trying to overcome a fear, or achieve a dream or to just not worry about something that had been troubling them. As the years went on the people all realised that their secrets had lost their power. The cakes had released a bit of magic in everyone.