COPYRIGHT

  Too Nice first published in the United Kingdom by Barrington Stoke in 2024

  Published in this ebook edition in 2024

  Barrington Stoke is an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper

  Dublin 1, D01 C9W8, Ireland

  Text copyright © Sally Nicholls 2024

  Cover design and illustration copyright © Amy Blackwell 2024

  Sally Nicholls asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9781800903265

  Ebook Edition © May 2024 ISBN: 9780008700751

  Version: [2024-04-06]

  NOTE TO READERS

  This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

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  Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9781800903265

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  1 Too Nice!

  2 Moving In

  3 Nice Things

  4 Nervous

  5 A Holiday

  6 A Prize

  7 Rudeness

  8 A Gift

  9 A Dress

  10 The Awards

  11 And After

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  TOO NICE!

  “My stepmother’s all right,” said Abby. “She’s just too nice. That’s all. Too nice!”

  “Urgh,” Anna replied. She tipped her crisp packet up so all the last crumbs fell into her mouth. They were sitting in their corner of the canteen at school. “You mean she’s all goody-two-shoes and perfect?”

  “No … not exactly,” Abby said. She opened her lunchbox and stared at the lunch her stepmother, Jen, had made her. Cheese sandwiches with lettuce. A Fruit Corner. Grapes. Cherry tomatoes, and cucumber cut into little cubes. Posh food. It was much nicer than the packed lunches Abby used to make for herself. “It just feels fake.”

  “Yuck,” said Finn. He was eating chips covered in ketchup. Abby used to eat chips covered in ketchup too. Before Jen moved in.

  “I wish my stepmother was too nice,” said Halima gloomily. “Mine is always going on at me. Halima, tidy your room. Halima, do your homework. Halima, tell your brothers to stop killing each other, will you? I can’t do everything on my own.”

  “I like your stepmother,” said Abby. She did. Halima’s stepmother was always bossing Halima around, but you could tell they loved each other really. “She’s real,” Abby added.

  “Too real,” said Halima. “I wish she would be fake nice to me sometimes. It would make a change!”

  Abby’s mum had died when she was little. Abby couldn’t remember her at all. Her dad told her lots of stories. And she had a picture of her that she liked to look at sometimes. But that was it.

  Abby had never really minded not having a mum. She liked that she and Dad made decisions together. They talked about things, like where they should go on holiday and what takeaway to order. They were a team.

  They liked the same things too. They played video games together. They watched TV. Dad liked Doctor Who episodes from the 1960s and old Star Trek. Abby liked the way he got all excited when he talked about them. She liked teasing him about the bad special effects. She liked introducing him to the things she loved too. They watched all the Marvel films and TV programmes together. Dad pretended not to like them, but he did really.

  Abby and Dad were friends. Their family was small, but it worked.

  And then Jen came along.

  Jen was Dad’s girlfriend. They’d been together for six months now. He’d had girlfriends before. But Abby had been little then. She hadn’t understood what was going on. She’d just thought he had a new friend who was a lady.

  This time, Abby had been excited about meeting Jen. Abby loved her dad. She wanted him to be happy. She thought it was cool that he had a girlfriend. She helped him tidy the house. She even bought some tulips and put them in a vase on the table. They looked so nice there, red and hopeful.

  Jen was a librarian. She worked at the school where Dad was a teacher. She was small and pretty, with short dark hair and dangly earrings.

  Jen talked a lot.

  Abby opened the door the first time Jen came over, and Jen started talking.

  “Abby! How lovely!” Jen cried. “I’ve been so excited about meeting you. I’ve heard so much about you! Your dad’s so proud of you! Well, you know that.”

  Jen stepped forward and held out her arms for a hug. Abby hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t mind being hugged. But this was the first time they’d met. Wasn’t hugging a bit full on for a first meeting?

  It felt rude to say so. She let Jen hug her. But she felt herself getting small and shy, which wasn’t at all how she’d wanted to behave. She knew Dad was proud of her. He was her dad. Why was Jen acting like she knew him better than Abby did?

  “Oh, I love your top!” Jen was still talking. “That blue really suits you – it matches your eyes.”

  “Thank you,” Abby said again. It was just an old top. It wasn’t anything special. There was an ink stain on the hem. She wanted to say this to Jen, but she thought it might sound rude. It made her feel funny though, as if Jen was lying to her.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” said Dad, moving into the house.

  Jen and Abby followed. Abby was still trying to work out why Jen made her feel so uncomfortable. Dad hardly ever said things like “I love your top”. Only if she was wearing something really special, like a dress for a wedding or something. Was it just because Jen was a woman? Would Abby’s mum have said, “Oh, what a lovely top!” if she’d been alive?

  Did Jen really mean it, or was she just trying to make Abby like her?

  “Oh, I love your top” was a nice thing to say to someone.

  So why did it make Abby feel so small?

  Jen was still talking. “What a lovely house! Oh, and tulips! I love tulips!”

  “They were Abby’s idea,” said Dad. Abby wished he hadn’t said that. She waited for Jen to start telling her how much she loved tulips.

  “I love tulips!” Jen said, right on cue. “They’re so cheerful, aren’t they? They remind me of my grandmother – she always had tulips in the garden when we went to visit. What a kind thought!”

  Abby had chosen the tulips because they were the smallest bunch of flowers in the shop, and she and Dad only had little vases. She didn’t say this. She changed the subject.

  “This is the kitchen,” Abby said. “And this is the garden.”

  But it was the same wherever they went. Jen gushed. About Abby. About the house. About Dad.

  “I’m so happy to finally meet you!” Jen kept saying. She filled the whole house with her words.

  And Abby felt smaller and smaller, and more and more squashed.

  Chapter 2

  MOVING IN

  After that, Jen started spending a lot more time at their house. She would come over at the weekend. She would come home from work with Dad after school. She and Dad started doing things together. Dad joined Jen’s choir. They started going on long walks at the weekend.

  “You can come too, Abby!” Jen said. “We’d love to have you with us!” But Abby never knew if she could believe her.

  “It’s all right,” Abby said, feeling awkward.

  “You’re getting too grown up to do things with your old dad, are you?” Dad said. He was smiling, but his words made Abby feel funny inside. She wasn’t too grown up. She liked doing things with Dad. She knew teenagers weren’t supposed to want to do things with their parents. But Abby had never felt like that. She loved her Dad.

  There was something about the way Dad said it which worried her. It was as if he thought Abby should be too grown-up.

  Did he even want her on the walk with them?

  “You don’t mind us going, do you?” Dad said.

  “No, of course not,” said Abby. “Go. Have fun!”

  But she did mind. She missed Dad being hers.

  Abby knew she was being selfish. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Dad still loved her. He told her he loved her all the time. Every day. And Jen was nice. Abby knew she was nice.

  “I always wanted a daughter!” she said to Abby.

  I’m not your daughter, Abby thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She didn’t want to be a brat. She wanted to be a nice person. She was a nice person.

  “We should do something just the two of us!” Jen sa
id. “A mother-daughter trip! Not that I am your mother, of course. I know you’ve got a mother. But you know what I mean!”

  “I don’t have a mother,” said Abby flatly.

  “No, but … I don’t want to disrespect your mother’s memory,” Jen said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I suppose,” Abby said. Jen wasn’t disrespecting her mum’s memory. But she was shoving herself into the space Mum had left behind.

  “So, what would you like to do?” Jen said. She looked at Abby, waiting. How was Abby supposed to know? She’d never had a mum before.

  “I dunno,” she said.

  “You must have some ideas?” said Jen. “What do you do with your dad?”

  “Go to the cinema,” Abby muttered. She wished Jen would stop this. “We could go and see the new Marvel film?”

  “Oh,” Jen said. “I don’t really like Marvel … and I know your dad was looking forward to taking you to that.”

  “Oh,” said Abby.

  “We could go to the theatre!” said Jen. “Or are there any bands you like? I haven’t been to a concert in years! Or we could have afternoon tea?”

  “Um.” Abby felt smaller and smaller. “Sure. OK. The theatre, maybe?” She didn’t want to go to a concert with Jen. At least they wouldn’t have to talk in the theatre.

  Jen took her to see Mamma Mia. She talked all the way there about how excited she was.

  “I love Mamma Mia!” Jen said. “Have you seen the film version? I used to love ABBA when I was your age. I knew all the songs!”

  Abby didn’t know what to say.

  “Dad and I mostly watch science-fiction films,” she said. Jen looked a bit disappointed, so Abby added, “But I like other things too!”

  “My mum died when I was twelve,” said Jen. “Did I tell you that? She used to take me to the theatre all the time.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Abby.

  “It was a long time ago,” said Jen. “And now I have you!” She smiled at Abby.

  Abby wanted to cry.

  Abby knew she was lucky to have a stepmother who tried so hard. She should be grateful, she told herself. And she did try. Abby smiled politely when Jen and Dad said how sensible she was being. That was the problem with being sensible. You weren’t allowed to complain.

  Abby wanted to be sensible.

  She just hadn’t expected Jen to move in.

  “Jen is pretty much living here already,” Dad said. “She stays most weekends … so it just makes sense for her to live here. Doesn’t it?”

  He gave Abby a hopeful smile. It made her heart hurt to look at him. She didn’t want to let him down.

  “I suppose so,” Abby said.

  “Are you sure?” Dad said. “You don’t mind? You like Jen, don’t you?”

  Abby forced herself to smile.

  “Of course I like her,” she said weakly. “She’s lovely.”

  Dad looked pleased.

  “She is, isn’t she?” he said. “I can’t believe she wants to be with a boring old man like me!”

  “You aren’t boring!” said Abby.

  Dad laughed. “But I am old?”

  “Well …” Abby didn’t finish the sentence. He was a dad. All dads were old. Surely he knew this?

  “Cheeky so-and-so,” Dad said. He gave Abby a fond look.

  “Thank you for being so good about this,” he said. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

  “Me too,” she said. She tried to ignore the part of her that wanted to be unsensible. The part that wanted to be childish and immature about it.

  Dad was allowed to have girlfriends.

  This would be OK. It would.

  And it was OK. Jen wasn’t a Wicked Stepmother. She didn’t steal Dad’s money, or lock Abby in the cellar. She carried on being, well, nice.

  But it still felt strange having another person living in their house. Jen wasn’t a stranger. But she wasn’t family.

  Abby was used to having lots of time on her own. Dad often stayed behind after school to finish his marking. He said he wanted to leave work at work and be a dad at home. Abby got a bit lonely sometimes, but she didn’t really mind it. It was nice having some quiet time after school. She did her homework, messed about on the internet and watched all the TV shows that Dad didn’t like.

  But that all changed when Jen moved in. Jen didn’t have marking to do or staff meetings to go to like Dad did. She got home at four o’clock every day. Sometimes she was home before Abby was.

  Abby hated it.

  It felt as if her private time and space was being invaded. Abby liked school, but it was hard work. You couldn’t relax. You had to be nice to your friends and pay attention to what teachers said. You had to make sure you didn’t say anything stupid. It was exhausting. Abby had never realised how much she needed time on her own. Time when she didn’t have to pretend. Time when she could just be.

  Their house wasn’t very big – it only had two bedrooms. Even when Abby was in her room, she could still hear Jen downstairs moving around, singing to herself. And Jen was so friendly. So talkative. Abby wasn’t used to that. If Abby went downstairs to get a drink or something, Jen would stop whatever she was doing and want to chat.

  “Abby! Hello! Do you want a cup of tea? We could have some biscuits. Or a teacake?”

  Jen would look hopefully at Abby. Abby never knew what to say. She just wanted to make a glass of squash and go back to her room. But she couldn’t work out how to say that without being rude. So, she’d have to sit there, drinking tea, feeling … squashed.

  Once, she said something – she couldn’t help it. Jen was babbling away as normal.

  “How’s your homework going?” she said. “You’re doing so well. Your dad and I are so proud of you!”

  Why did Jen say things like that? Your dad and I. Jen and Dad weren’t a family! She was just Dad’s girlfriend! She didn’t get to say things like your dad and I.

  “Why do you think I’m doing well?” Abby said. She didn’t mean it to sound so blunt. It just came out like that.

  “Oh!” Jen said. She didn’t seem upset. She was always cheerful. “Well, your dad said you were ever so clever. And I can see that you get on with your homework every day …”

  Abby did do her homework every day. But that didn’t mean she was clever! It sounded fake when Jen said it.

  “How do you know what I’m doing?” Abby said. “I could be up to anything. Computer hacking! Online trolling! Internet piracy!”

  Jen laughed, but it sounded anxious.

  “Oh, well, yes, I suppose you could be,” she said. “Now! Would you like Hobnobs or chocolate digestives with your tea?”

  If someone was nice to you, you were supposed to be nice to them back. Abby knew that. But if Abby was nice back, then that would just encourage Jen. There would be even more niceness! And Abby didn’t want that. She wanted less nice! But the only way to get that was by being nasty.

  Abby didn’t want to be nasty. She wasn’t a nasty person! She was friendly and kind to everyone else. Why couldn’t she be nice to Jen?

  Just back off, Abby wanted to say. I don’t want a mother. Can’t you just be a … a person?

  Chapter 3

  NICE THINGS

  And lots of things were better with Jen in the house.

  Jen was good at tidying up and hoovering. She always remembered to buy milk and bread. There was fancy fruit in the fruit bowl. Kiwis and grapes and even a pineapple once. Jen cooked a lot more than Dad did too. Mostly Dad made soup or sandwiches or bacon butties for tea.

  But Jen cooked proper dinners. Vegetarian chilli. Stir fries. Home-made pizza. When Abby came home from school, the whole kitchen smelled of good things cooking.

  The house was nicer too. Dad always used to leave the dirty dishes on the side until they ran out of clean forks. Now, they did the washing-up every night. Jen changed the sheets on Abby’s bed every week. She hoovered the house every couple of days. And she made Dad and Abby help too.

  “Abby, love, can you tidy up all this mess in the living room, please?” she’d say. And Abby would.

  “I’ll wash; you dry,” she would say to Dad. And Dad would too.

  Jen was trying to make their house a proper home. Abby could see how much work it was, and she knew it was a good thing. She should be grateful, she knew.