A Storm of Strawberries

by Cotterill

  “Is that where the missing bag went?” Mom asks.

  “Darby ate them all,” Olly says with a grin.

  “It was a game,” I say. “It was Olly’s idea.”

  No way am I going to be blamed for this—no way!

  “Oh, Darby,” Mom says, with disappointment in her voice. “And I specifically asked you earlier if you knew what had happened to the other bag. You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t!” I say.

  She shakes her head and sighs. “Well, then Olly has a point. You can go out last.”

  Last?! There won’t be any chocolates left!

  Chapter 21

  My eyes fill with tears. I can’t believe it! If I’d known this would happen, I’d never have eaten the chocolates yesterday! “That’s totally unfair!” I protest, but Mom is already saying, “Ready … go!” and the others are piling out of the patio door into the wind.

  “Go on, Darby, out you go,” Mom says.

  But I stand in the middle of the rug and shake my head. This is not right. I am being blamed for something that was not my fault. It was Olly who stole the bag from the cabinet; Olly who fed them to me.

  “Darby, you’re missing the hunt,” Mom says.

  But I am angry now—angry and hurt and upset, and I can’t go out because I am having too many feelings and it’s stopping me from doing anything. I drop my basket on the floor and stamp my foot. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Darby.” Mom tries to push me out of the door. “Come on, you’re missing it. You’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

  I am rooted to the floor, like a tree. “No,” I say fiercely. “No.” And I fold my arms.

  There are shrieks from outside as the others are blown around by the wind, and in one strong gust I see Lissa fall onto the ground. Kaydee bends to help her up and falls over herself. Olly is so busy laughing at them that he doesn’t see Dad carefully working his way around the flowerbeds, picking up the small shiny objects. Dad is winning, but I don’t care.

  I don’t care about the chocolate at the same time as caring ALL about it. It’s like there are two separate versions of me, pushing at each other so that neither can move.

  “Well, fine,” Mom suddenly snaps. She throws up her hands. “If you want to mess it up for yourself, that’s your choice, Darby. The hunt is happening, and you’re choosing not to take part. This is nothing to do with me, so don’t go blaming me afterward. Honestly, you go on and on about this flipping hunt for months, and then you throw a tantrum on the day—well, I’m not having it. Not today, there’s too much else to worry about. We could lose the farm, Darby. We could lose everything. I refuse to let you blackmail me over some stupid chocolate hunt!” She turns and storms out of the room.

  I stand in the middle of the floor, shaking. I didn’t hear half of what she shouted at me—it was too quick, and my brain sort of slides around when people are shouting quickly. But I did hear her say the word stupid.

  Mom called me stupid.

  The others come barging into the sitting room, laughing and panting, clothes and hair all over the place. “I won!” says Dad, holding up his basket.

  “I was sabotaged,” complains Kaydee. “Lissa fell on me!”

  “I was blown over!” Lissa exclaims. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

  Then they all notice me. “Darby! Why’re you still in here? Didn’t you come out at all?”

  And I can’t say anything because right now I feel like the most miserable person in the whole world, because I’m stupid and I have no chocolate.

  “Darby?” Dad puts his arm around me. “What happened? Listen, you can share my chocolates—I can’t eat this many anyway.” He passes the basket to me.

  And then Mom appears in the doorway and her face is as white as the bathroom tiles upstairs, and Juris is at her elbow, and his face is all tight and staring, and Mom says, “Paul, we’ve been hit.”

  And Dad’s arm drops away from my shoulders, and he says, “How bad?”

  Juris says, “One greenhouse.”

  “A whole one?” asks Dad, and he swallows.

  Juris nods. “Looks like it.”

  Dad takes a breath, but it catches in his throat. “Right,” he says, and walks out of the room. Juris follows him. Mom glances at the rest of us and then turns and goes out too.

  “What was all that about?” Lissa asks. “Hit by what?”

  “Tornado,” Kaydee says, and she and Olly look at each other. “A tornado has taken out one of the greenhouses.”

  “I don’t understand,” says Lissa.

  “It means,” says Olly, “that the glass has smashed and they’ve lost a whole greenhouse of fruit. It’s a lot of money.”

  “How much money?” Lissa asks.

  Olly shrugs. “Hundreds of thousands, if you include the cost of replacing the glass.”

  “Oh wow,” says Lissa quietly. “That’s massive.”

  Kaydee looks down at the basket she’s carrying and makes a face. “This is all so pointless. Here, Darby.” She holds out the basket to me, and I take it automatically. “You have it.”

  “Yeah, you can have mine too,” Olly says, holding out his. “A whole greenhouse … they’re going to be breaking even this year.”

  “Hey.” Lissa reaches out to Kaydee, who looks like she’s about to cry. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that.”

  Kaydee lets Lissa pull her into a hug. Lissa strokes her hair.

  Olly watches, and on his face is an expression I don’t understand. He looks sort of ill. He goes out of the room.

  “Come on,” Lissa says to Kaydee. “What are we going to do to keep your spirits up?”

  I feel like I am suddenly invisible. I stand with three baskets full of chocolate, all of them mine, and I feel like I have nothing.

  Outside the wind howls and batters, and I hate it. I hate everything.

  Chapter 22

  In the end, Lissa and Kaydee fetch blankets and sit down on the sofa, and Kaydee brings the family copy of Winnie-the-Pooh and starts reading it aloud. I don’t know what to do, so I sit on a sofa with a blanket too. I love this book. Piglet is my favorite character because he’s strong and brave even though he’s small and sometimes scared. He’s a good friend to Pooh. Piglet just wants everyone to be happy.

  After a while, Mom comes in, and when she hears Kaydee reading, she smiles. Her eyes are red, so I know she’s been crying. And even though she shouted and called me stupid, I get off the sofa and go to her and put my arms around her.

  Mom hugs me back, and sniffs and rubs my shoulder.

  Kaydee is reading about the arrival of Tigger. She stops at the end of a sentence and looks up at Mom. “Is it bad?” she asks.

  Mom nods and sniffs again. “Keep reading, darling,” she says. “You do it so beautifully.”

  “My mouth’s getting dry,” Kaydee says.

  “Lissa, why don’t you take over?” suggests Mom. “Just till I’ve got lunch ready.”

  Lissa’s mouth opens slightly and she glances at Kaydee. “Oh …” she says slowly. “Oh, but Kaydee’s doing great.”

  Kaydee says to her, “It’s okay, Liss.” And then she looks up at Mom and says, “Lissa’s not so good at reading.”

  “Oh,” says Mom, sounding a bit sorry. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. Do you have dyslexia? My sister does.”

  Aunty Milly has dyslexia? I didn’t know that.

  “Sort of,” says Lissa. “I just … well, mainly I just never really learned … I didn’t go to school much when I was younger.”

  Mom cocks her head to one side as she looks at Lissa. “It sounds to me,” she says gently, “as though maybe you’ve missed out on some important stuff in your life.”

  Lissa’s eyes are suddenly shiny. She looks mad, which confuses me. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I’ll go and finish up lunch,” Mom says.

  “I’ll help,” I say, because I still feel bad for the chocolate hunt disaster
, and I want to be with Mom as much as I can. I follow her through to the kitchen.

  “That poor girl,” she says in a low voice as she fills the metal kettle and places it on the stove. “She’s had such a rough ride. Her dad mixed up with drugs and the police; her not going to school. It sounds like her mom hasn’t been able to keep control of the situation either. Poor Lissa—some kids miss out on the things you really need.”

  Mom opens the oven and takes out a piece of meat, which she puts to the side. It smells so good my mouth waters. “Mm. Good, we just need gravy to go with this, and then we’re done.” She looks at me and smiles. “We’re so lucky to have each other—you, me, Kaydee, Dad, and Olly. Lissa hasn’t had the love and support we have.”

  “But now she has,” I say without thinking. “Kaydee loves her.”

  Mom smiles at me. “Friendships can be very close. I’m glad you don’t seem to mind as much as you did.” She reaches out to stroke my cheek. “It’s a very mature thing, to accept that your sister has a best friend.”

  “I don’t mind now,” I say. “I’m going to be their bridesmaid.”

  The hand stroking my cheek stills. “What?” asks Mom.

  “When they get married,” I say. “I’m going to be their bridesmaid.”

  Chapter 23

  Mom takes a step backward, staring at me. “What are you talking about, Darby? When who gets married?”

  “Kaydee and Lissa,” I say. “They love each other.”

  And then I remember. “Oh no! I wasn’t supposed to tell!”

  “Kaydee and Lissa?” Mom repeats. She takes a step toward me again. “Darby, you need to be very clear on this. What exactly is going on?”

  I am looking at the floor and biting my lip and trying to put my hands in my pockets, except I don’t have any pockets. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

  She pauses and then says more gently. “Darby, you know how sometimes you get fantasy mixed up with reality? Like when we watch a TV show and you think it’s real? Do you think maybe this is one of those times?”

  … when I watched The Lion King for the first time, I got up to go to the toilet and missed a bit. When I came back, Simba’s father was dead, killed by wildebeests. I was sure, absolutely sure, that if I hadn’t left the room at that particular moment, he wouldn’t have died. It was my fault that Mufasa died; my fault that Simba didn’t have a dad. No matter how much Mom and Dad tried to tell me otherwise, and Kaydee rewound the movie to show me it would happen over and over again … I didn’t accept any of it. It was my fault. I killed Mufasa.

  I know better now, of course. It was Scar. He sent the hyenas to chase the wildebeests into the gorge so that they would trample Mufasa. And no matter how many times you watch it, the same thing happens. So it couldn’t be me. And yet … some small part of me still feels guilty.

  I say nothing, and the kettle whistles. Mom turns to take it off the stove, and then says to me, “This is just one of your fantasies, isn’t it, Darby? I know you’d love to be a bridesmaid. You’re inventing a wedding.”

  “No!” I cry, insulted. “I haven’t invented this! Kaydee and Lissa are in love and I saw them kissing and they’re going to be together forever.”

  “Ouch!” Mom has spilled some hot water on herself. She bangs down the kettle and heads to the sink, where she sticks her hand under the cold tap. Her face is red and her eyes are shiny.

  Kaydee appears in the doorway. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Mom turns on her and spits out, “Are you and Lissa in a relationship?”

  “Uh …” Kaydee’s eyes open wide and she glances at me.

  “Don’t look at her—look at me!” Mom shouts. I don’t know why she’s angry. “Darby says she saw the two of you kissing. Is it true?”

  Kaydee turns red. “That’s none of your business,” she snaps.

  “It is my business,” Mom says. “You’re my daughter—I have a right to know about these things.”

  “It’s my life, Mom,” snarls Kaydee. “My decision. I can kiss whomever I like.”

  “You’re only sixteen,” Mom says. “You’re far too young to know anything.” She cradles her hand under the running water and presses her lips together tightly.

  “What?!” Kaydee’s voice is incredulous—and loud. I clap my hands over my ears. “I’m old enough to have a baby if I want to! I could get married!”

  “Not without my permission!” shouts Mom.

  Tears fill my eyes. They’re shouting. I can’t bear it. It feels like Kaydee and Mom’s shouting is filling the whole house. Even if I went to my room, I would hear them. I run into the hall, through the utility room, out of the back door, along the path, and onto the track that surrounds the site.

  The wind is howling, and it dries the tears on my face. The noise out here drowns out the noise from the kitchen.

  I stand outside, staring at the big greenhouse in front of me. It wasn’t this one that was damaged. I wonder which one was. It shouldn’t take long to find it—all the greenhouses are on this site.

  I set off to the left, following the track. Past the caravans where our pickers live in the summer—they’ll be arriving in another couple of weeks. Past the shower block, past the shed where all the washing machines and dryers are. Past the big shed where we have barbecue parties and Gregor plays the guitar. On my right, I have passed two of the four greenhouses, their air vents jammed open above. At the end of greenhouse number three, the generator stands silent. It’s still not working. The strawberry plants aren’t getting what they need.

  At greenhouse number four, I stop because I have found it. Down the far end, I can see Dad standing with Juris and Monica. Gregor is there too, and some others.

  I stand and watch and, as I do, the wind drops suddenly. My ears feel funny: there was a lot of noise and now there isn’t, like when you jump into a swimming pool and go underwater (which I don’t like doing). It makes the rest of my senses feel wobbly. My glasses are smeary, so the world looks out of focus. I take them off and wipe them on my top. When I put them back on, everything looks much brighter, and I realize the sun has come out too. The greenhouse is lit up, bright white shining off its panes. I walk toward it, slowly. I tilt my head to one side and then the other, seeing how the reflection changes. Up ahead are the panes that smashed—the pieces lie glittering on the grass. I can see into the greenhouse too, and there are the plants, green fruits heavy and ripening, sparkling with tiny shards.

  They look so beautiful, and so deadly.

  … a teacher at school. She was young and pretty, with long black hair and dark skin and brown eyes lined in black. Her name was Miss Morris, and she had a lovely smile. On the first day, she came to our classroom, I just sat there and stared at her. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. She had a soft voice and she really listened. I had reading with her once a week, and that first time I rushed to meet her, bringing my book. She smiled at me and we sat down together. “This is a nice, easy book,” she commented, looking at the one I had brought.

  I didn’t think it was that easy, but I smiled at her anyway.

  “Off you go, then.”

  I started to read. After a few moments, she stopped me. “Darby, I can’t understand what you’re saying. You need to speak more clearly.”

  I tried again. After three sentences, she asked me to repeat a word. And then I had to do it again. “Ree-a-lyze,” she said slowly.

  When I had said it four times, she let me move on to the next word. But I’d forgotten what the sentence was about, so I had to go back to the start. And this time she sighed and shook her head when I got to the word “realize.”

  She stopped me often, asking me to say words again, and then she said I shouldn’t follow the words with my finger; that only little children did that. So I tried to read without using my finger, but the words jumped around on the page and I got lost.

  Miss Morris smiled that beautiful smile at me, and I felt that she understood the problem. And then she said, “Yo
u’re not concentrating, Darby. You have to focus,” and it was like being stung by a beautiful princess.

  She spoke kindly and with a smile, like she was being helpful and friendly. But everything she said made me feel bad, like I wasn’t trying hard enough, or that I was stupid.

  I went back to my lesson feeling very confused and miserable. Because it was the first time that I had met something beautiful on the outside that wasn’t beautiful on the inside, and I couldn’t understand it.

  Chapter 24

  “Darby!” Dad is running toward me, sprinting over the glittering grass. “Darby, get back!”

  I blink, taking a step backward out of surprise.

  “Didn’t you see all the glass?” he says.

  “Yes,” I say. “It’s pretty. And awful.”

  “It’s awful all right.” Dad moves me farther away from the glass. “I don’t know, Darby. Sometimes I wonder why we do this.”

  “Because people like strawberries,” I say.

  He stares at me for a moment, and then all the worry lines across his forehead disappear, and he laughs. He laughs quite a lot, more than I was expecting, and so I laugh too. I must have made a good joke to make Dad laugh so much.

  He pulls me to him and hugs me very tightly. My glasses get squashed against my nose, but I don’t mind. I hug him back and breathe in his Dad smell. Everyone has their own smell. Dad’s is like earth and oil and grass and hard work. “Oh, Darby,” he says, with a chuckle. “What would we do without you, eh?”

  “You would be in a terrible mess,” I tell him, and that just makes him laugh even more.

  He squeezes me again and then says, “You’d better go back, sweetheart. I’m sorry that the hunt this morning didn’t go well. Maybe we should put all the chocolates back in the yard and do it again.”

  This is a brilliant idea! “Yeah!” I say. “I’ll go and ask Mom!”

  I run back to the house, bursting with excitement. I run through the utility room to the kitchen. Mom is standing by the stove, carving the meat. “Mom!” I call. “Mom, I’ve had a brilliant idea!”