who has just been chosen to assassinate a president.
“It could be fun.”
“Absolutely not.”
“How amazing would it be though? To pass you off as a girl.”
“It’s insane! I go into Raj’s shop every day. He’d know for certain it was me.”
“I bet he wouldn’t,” said Lisa. “I’ve got a wig my mum bought for a fancy dress party. I could put some make-up on you like yesterday. It’d be so much fun–let’s do it today!”
“Today?”
“Yeah, it’s Sunday so there should be less people about. I brought a dress with me, ’cos I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“I don’t know, Lisa. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”
“I’ve got you a handbag too…”
Ten minutes later Dennis looked at himself in the hall mirror. He was wearing a short, electric-blue dress and holding a silver clutch-bag. It was a party dress, really, not what anyone would wear on a Sunday morning to a newsagent’s shop.
Least of all a twelve-year-old boy.
But having Lisa fuss over him, applying make-up to his face, squeezing his feet into matching silver high-heeled shoes, and styling the wig, had been so much fun he didn’t complain.
“Is Raj really going to believe I’m your French pen-pal?” he asked.
“You look amazing. And it’s all about confidence. If you believe it, everyone else will too.”
“Maybe…”
“Come on, let’s see you walk.”
Dennis trotted up and down the hall, doing his best impression of a catwalk model.
“Mmm, it’s like Bambi taking his first steps,” said Lisa with a laugh.
“Thanks a lot.”
“Sorry, just joking. Look, you’ve got to stand upright in heels like these.”
Dennis copied Lisa’s posture and immediately felt a little more confident in the silver shoes. “I quite like this actually,” he said.
“Yes, it’s a good feeling, being that little bit taller. And it makes your legs look great.”
“Is Denise a French name too?” he asked.
“If you say anything in a French accent it sounds French,” said Lisa.
“De-neeze,” said Dennis, laughing. “Bonjour, je m’appelle De-neeze.”
“Bonjour, Denise. Vous êtes très belle,” said Lisa.
“Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle Lisa.”
They both laughed.
“Are you ready?” Lisa asked.
“Ready to…?”
“To go outside.”
“No, of course I’m not.”
“But?”
“But I will!”
They both laughed again. Lisa opened the door and Dennis stepped out into the sunshine.
10 Pickled Onion Monster Munch
At first Lisa held Dennis’s hand to steady him. After a few paces the tottering calmed down a little, and Dennis began to walk more easily.
High heels do take a bit of getting used to. Not that I would know, reader. Someone told me.
Soon they arrived at Raj’s shop. Lisa squeezed Dennis’s hand reassuringly. He took a deep breath and they went inside.
“A good morning to you, Miss Lisa,” said Raj, smiling broadly. “I have the new copy of Italian Vogue for you. Oh my word, it’s heavy though! Like a brick! I ordered it in specially for you.”
“Wow, thanks so much, Raj,” said Lisa.
“And who is your new friend?”
“Oh, this is my French exchange person… student, Denise,” said Lisa.
Raj studied Dennis for a moment. Had they fooled him? Dennis mouth was dry with nerves.
“Ah, hello, Denise, welcome to my shop,” said Raj. Lisa and Dennis smiled at each other. Dennis looked so good as Denise that Raj clearly didn’t suspect a thing. “It is possibly the finest shop of this kind in the whole of England! Now you can get all your postcards to send back home!” Raj picked up a packet of plain white postcards.
“They’re blank, Raj,” said Lisa.
“Yes, you will have to draw some sights of London on these. I stock an unrivalled selection of felt-tipped pens. So you are from France?”
“Yes,” replied Lisa.
“Oui,” added Dennis, tentatively.
“I’ve always wanted to go to France,” said Raj. “It’s in France, isn’t it?”
Lisa and Dennis shared a confused look.
“Well, if there is anything I can do whilst you are in England, Miss… forgive me, what is your name again?” asked Raj.
“De-neeze,” replied Dennis.
“It’s a lovely accent you have, Miss Denise.”
“Merci.”
“What did she say?” asked Raj.
“Thank you,” said Lisa.
“Oh! Merci, merci,” said Raj, delighted at this discovery. “I can speak French now! If there is anything I can do, please let me know. Now, Lisa, before you go, I have some special offers today I would like to tell you about.”
Lisa and Dennis both rolled their eyes. “Nine Kinder eggs for the price of eight.”
“No, thanks,” said Lisa.
“Non, merci,” added Dennis, growing in confidence.
“I have some excellent bags of pickled onion Monster Munch, only slightly out of date. Fifteen bags for the price of thirteen. They are a British delicacy. Your French friend may wish to try them, and take a box home for her loved ones.”
“I’ll just take the Italian Vogue thanks, Raj,” said Lisa as she put her money down on the counter. “Goodbye.”
“Au revoir,” added Dennis.
“Goodbye, ladies, do come back soon.”
They left the shop giddy with excitement, running away as they carried the exceptionally heavy magazine between them. Raj came out of the shop holding a box of crisps and shouted, “You drive a hard bargain, Lisa. I’ll throw in another box of roast beef Monster Munch absolutely free!”
Raj’s voice echoed down the street as Dennis and Lisa ran, breathless with excitement.
11 “These high heels are killing me”
“You did it!” said Lisa, as they sat on a wall to recover their breath.
“He really thought I was a girl!” exclaimed Dennis. “That’s the best fun I’ve had… well ever!”
“Well, let’s go into town