Which made the total for the day nine-and-a-half kilometres.
Pearl groaned again as she dragged herself up the nursing home driveway.
If Mrs Meadows can’t solve the mystery of these dumb water wings, she thought, wincing with pain, I think I’ll just check myself in and stay here till I’m old.
‘Mrs Meadows?’ said the woman in the office. ‘She’ll be delighted. She hasn’t had a visitor all week. Come this way.’
Pearl followed the woman along a corridor that smelt almost as strong as the bathroom after Howard dropped Mum’s cologne.
As they passed an open doorway, Pearl peeked in.
A very old man was lying on a bed surrounded by medical equipment with about six tubes connected to him.
Through a window he had a view of the airport.
Pearl shuddered.
Poor thing, she thought. He looks like he’s being refuelled for take-off.
The office woman stopped outside a door, tapped on it, sang out ‘Visitor, Mrs Meadows’, pushed open the door, smiled at Pearl and hurried away.
Pearl held her breath and stepped into the room.
And stopped.
And stared.
Sitting up in bed smiling at her was the most perfect grandma she’d ever seen.
‘Hello,’ said Mrs Meadows, fluffing her curly grey hair and smoothing her lilac knitted bedjacket and twinkling at Pearl with soft friendly eyes. ‘What a lovely surprise.’
‘Hello,’ said Pearl, heart scrabbling.
They introduced themselves.
Mrs Meadows patted the bed.
‘Come and sit down,’ she smiled, ‘and have some butter shortcake.’
Pearl did.
Boy, thought Pearl, they’re lucky, whoever’s got her for a grandma. Wonder if she’s got any single sons about Mum’s age?
Mrs Meadows patted Pearl’s hand.
‘You’re a very kind girl,’ said Mrs Meadows, ‘to visit an old lady like me.’
Pearl glowed.
‘I’ve brought something for you,’ she said, digging into her jeans pockets.
Mrs Meadows twinkled with anticipation.
Pearl couldn’t wait to see Mrs Meadows’ face light up even more when she saw her pink rubber tubes from so long ago.
She handed Mrs Meadows the water wings.
Mrs Meadows looked at them for a long time.
Hope she doesn’t get too emotional, thought Pearl. It’s probably not good for a frail old soul like her.
Pearl watched anxiously.
Mrs Meadows didn’t seem to be getting too emotional.
If anything, she was twinkling less.
She was even frowning a bit.
‘Where did you get these?’ she asked.
‘I was helping my Gran clear some stuff out this morning,’ said Pearl.
Mrs Meadows’ face twisted into a snarl.
She threw the water wings at Pearl.
They bounced off Pearl’s head and skidded across the floor.
‘Flo Siberry?’ spat Mrs Meadows. ‘Flo Siberry’s your Gran?’
Pearl sat stunned.
She forced her dazed brain into action.
Howard’s name was Elyard, which must be Gran’s married name. Siberry must be her maiden name.
‘Your Gran,’ hissed Mrs Meadows, sticking her angry glaring face close to Pearl’s, ‘killed my brother.’
Pearl gaped.
She slid off the bed and backed away.
The room was starting to wobble.
It’s not possible, she thought. Gran’s been flat out ever since she got here. She hasn’t had time to kill anyone.
‘She was fifteen when she did it,’ growled Mrs Meadows. ‘My brother was seventeen. He’d fallen in love with her, God knows why. Went round telling everyone she was going to be the Tobacco Carnival Queen of 1947 or whenever it was. She didn’t stand a chance. She was too tall and she had a face like a boot.’
Maybe he told Gran that, thought Pearl wildly, and that’s why she killed him.
‘In those days,’ continued Mrs Meadows bitterly, ‘carnival queens had to do more than just wobble their bits. They had to be citizens and sportswomen. Flo Siberry couldn’t even swim, so she asked my brother to teach her.’
Mrs Meadows’ chin was trembling.
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her bedjacket.
‘He took my water wings,’ she said, ‘without asking, and he and your gran snuck off to the lake together and he drowned.’
Pearl felt weak with relief.
An accident.
Gran wasn’t a murderer.
Then she thought about what it must have been like for Gran.
Seeing her boyfriend drown.
Poor thing.
Pearl realised Mrs Meadows’ chin was trembling again.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Pearl said.
Mrs Meadows didn’t answer.
Pearl swallowed.
What else could she say?
‘What was your brother’s name?’ she asked quietly.
Mrs Meadows glowered at Pearl.
‘I never say his name,’ she said. ‘I never even think it.’
She opened a bedside drawer and took out a book. Opening it, she held up the bookmark.
Pearl saw what it was.
A wisp of hair.
‘That’s all I’ve got left of my brother,’ hissed Mrs Meadows. ‘That’s all your grandmother left me.’
Pearl watched as Mrs Meadows pressed the hair angrily to her lips.
You poor thing, she thought. You’ve hung onto the wrong bit.
By the time Pearl got home her head was aching almost as much as her feet.
First I’ll have a lie down, she thought wearily on the doorstep, and then I’ll have a quiet chat with Gran.
‘It was a disaster,’ said a loud voice inside, ‘an absolute disaster.’
Mum’s voice.
Pearl took a deep breath and went in.
Mum and Howard and Gran and Mitch were having dinner.
Pearl hadn’t realised it was that late.
‘Hello,’ she said.
They all said hello. Gran gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
‘You’re late home from school,’ said Mum. ‘I was just telling Mrs Elyard, the trip was a disaster. We found a soapie actress but she pulled out at the last minute. So it’s back to local talent if they can keep their cars away from power poles.’
Gran put a plate in front of Pearl.
‘Mrs Elyard has cooked us a wonderful dinner,’ said Mum. ‘Stir-fried lamb with some wonderful herbs. What are they, Flo?’
‘Just chilli,’ said Gran, ‘and some basil from the herb tub outside.’
Mum stopped chewing and ran for the bathroom.
While Howard put Mum to bed and gave her some indigestion tablets, Pearl had a long talk with Winston in the freezer.
She explained to him how she didn’t want to end up like Mrs Meadows.
She could see he understood.
Then she went out to the front yard.
Mitch was in the street with the hose, watering the nature strip.
Gran was sitting on her suitcases having a smoke and staring at the stars.
‘I’m gunna be staying over at Howard’s,’ she said. ‘Just for a bit.’
Pearl took a deep breath.
‘I want to have a funeral for Winston,’ she said quietly.
Gran stood up slowly and looked at Pearl.
‘I was hoping you would,’ she said. ‘That’s why I saved these.’
She opened her suitcase and showed Pearl the pieces of broken rocking chair wrapped in her nightie.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Pearl.
‘From what I hear,’ said Gran, ‘Winston was a pretty special individual. I reckon he deserves a pretty special funeral. The Vikings, those ancient warriors from up north, when they were giving their heroes a send-off, they used to put ’em in a boat and send ’em out across the water in glorious flames.’
> Pearl grinned.
A Viking funeral.
That sounded like Winston.
Gran rubbed her chin and looked at the pieces of wood.
‘Hope we can build a boat from these that’ll float.’
‘These might help,’ said Pearl, digging into her pockets.
She handed Gran the water wings.
Gran looked at her for a bit, then grinned.
Pearl was tempted to say more, but she decided not to.
Gran had made it pretty clear that some things were personal.
When they got to the lake, dawn was just starting to break.
‘Hope you’ve got a torch,’ said the taxi driver, reaching for his paper.
They carried the Viking ship with Winston in it down to the water’s edge.
This time Pearl didn’t say goodbye too quickly.
She didn’t say goodbye at all.
She stroked Winston’s fur, so dry and soft after she and Gran had blow-dried it, and explained some stuff.
How he mustn’t be alarmed when he found he didn’t have a body anymore.
How he’d find being inside her head much nicer than being inside a freezer.
How she’d always love him.
When she’d finished holding him to her lips, she laid him on the nest of twigs and leaves inside the boat.
Together, Pearl and Gran pushed the boat out onto the silver water.
For a few minutes they watched it slowly drift away, silhouetted against the pink dawn.
Then Gran squirted lighter fluid onto a twig and ignited it and hurled the flaming stick in a high arc.
It landed in the boat.
‘I used to be good at darts,’ said Gran.
Soon the boat was ablaze, moving out towards the centre of the lake.
Gran and Pearl sat down to watch it.
When Pearl’s tears came, she laid her head in Gran’s lap.
After a while she realised she wasn’t the only one crying.
She squeezed Gran’s hand.
Much later, when the last burning piece of wood had slipped beneath the surface of the lake, and Pearl had thought up the best idea she’d ever had in her whole life, Gran was still stroking her hair.
11
Mum and the rest of the Carnival Queen Selection Committee were pretty surprised when they yelled ‘next’ and Pearl and Gran walked in.
Pearl could tell they were surprised because their mouths were hanging open.
She waited for them to recover.
Mum was first.
‘Pearl,’ she hissed angrily, leaping to her feet, ‘what are you doing here?’
The rest of the people round the boardroom table started to chuckle.
‘Sorry, lovey,’ said Mr Tucker, the president of the Tobacco Growers Association, to Pearl. ‘You’ve got to be over fifteen to be Carnival Queen.’
‘Bring her back in a few years,’ said Mr Longbeach, the chairman of the Co-op board, to Gran. ‘When she’s got all her teeth.’
Pearl opened her mouth to explain.
‘No argument please, young lady,’ said Mum, steering them towards the door. ‘We’re very busy here and you’re not over fifteen.’
Pearl pointed to Gran.
‘She is.’
Gran nodded. ‘And I’ve got all my teeth,’ she said.
Mum hesitated, confused.
Pearl pulled herself free and faced the committee.
‘Tobacco’s been keeping this town going for seventy years,’ she said. ‘It’s been keeping Gran going almost as long.’
Pearl watched the committee take this in.
She could hear Gran wheezing quietly behind her.
Don’t cough, Pearl pleaded silently, please don’t cough.
‘Tobacco growing,’ she continued to the committee, ‘is a traditional part of this town. Well, so’s Gran. She was born here sixty-eight years ago. I reckon we should have a Carnival Queen who represents our proud traditions and ancient heritage and all the stuff that’s made this town great.’
Pearl stopped, out of breath.
Gran smiled winningly at the committee.
The committee smiled nervously back.
Pearl saw that Mum’s secretary, representing the Historical Society, was applauding silently at the rear of the room.
‘Pearl,’ said Mum, voice low with angry exasperation, ‘I thought I told you to check your hare-brained ideas with me first.’
Pearl looked pleadingly at the committee.
‘You know,’ said Mr Longbeach thoughtfully, ‘the lassie does have a point.’
Pearl was surprised they said yes so quickly.
Forty-five minutes, she thought happily, including hugging and handshaking time.
Not bad for a committee.
Mum sometimes complained that committees took three hours just to decide what biscuits they wanted.
After tea and biscuits (chocolate fingers) with only a small amount of coughing from Gran and no crumbs pinging off the boardroom walls, Mum led everyone out the back to the storage area.
‘This,’ said Mr Tucker, ‘is it.’
Gran squeezed Pearl’s arm excitedly as they looked up at a huge throne covered in gold-sprayed tobacco leaves.
‘There’s a matching canopy,’ said Mr Tucker, ‘and a couple of Nubian slaves’ll be fanning you with big matching fans. I say Nubian, it’ll actually be Ron and Les Piggott with boot polish on.’
‘Sounds tops,’ said Gran happily.
‘The whole thing goes on the back of a semi-trailer,’ said Mum, ‘and you’ll be up there for a good couple of hours. Will you be able to cope with that?’
‘I’m stronger than I look,’ said Gran.
She put her arm round Mr Tucker’s waist and lifted him off the ground.
Everyone laughed.
Except Pearl.
Don’t overdo it Gran, begged Pearl silently. Tobacco Queens aren’t meant to have coughing fits.
Gran put Mr Tucker down and had a coughing fit.
Everyone thought she was putting it on and laughed even louder.
‘One last thing,’ said Mr Longbeach to Gran. ‘You are sympathetic, I assume, to the nature of our industry.’
‘You mean do I think tobacco growing’s a good idea?’ said Gran. ‘Anyone got a smoke?’
When they got back to Howard’s place, Gran put her arms round Pearl.
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly. ‘You don’t know what a ripper this is for me.’
I think I do, thought Pearl happily.
They stood for a moment, Gran holding Pearl’s head against her chest.
With her ear pressed to Gran’s dress, Pearl could hear that each of Gran’s breaths was a wheeze.
Oh no, she thought. I hope Gran didn’t get pneumonia yesterday sitting by the lake all that time.
Then she remembered reading that people with pneumonia also have temperatures and clammy skin and splitting headaches.
Phew.
Gran went off to get dinner on and Mum came in from the car.
‘Howard’s off tranquillising a horse,’ said Mum. ‘When he gets back, he and I have got a business dinner.’
Pearl nodded.
She could see there was something else Mum wanted to say.
‘Sorry I grouched at you back there,’ said Mum. ‘Your heritage idea was a pretty good one actually. Certainly saved me a few headaches.’
She rummaged in her bag.
‘I was too busy to get you a prezzie in Sydney,’ she said, ‘so get yourself something, OK?’
Pearl stared at the fifty-dollar note Mum had stuffed into her hand.
Boy, she thought sadly, Mum must be feeling really guilty.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
Don’t feel guilty Mum, she thought. There’s no need. I’ve got a gran to look after me.
After Mum had gone to make a phone call, Pearl went to find Mitch to tell him the good news about Gran and the carnival.
He wasn’t in his room.
She climbed up into the roof cavity.
Mitch was sitting on a beam in the gloom.
‘You OK?’ asked Pearl.
‘I can’t stop thinking about that poor bloke you told me about,’ said Mitch. ‘Gran’s boyfriend who drowned. If only he’d had a guardian angel, he’d have been right.’
‘Perhaps he did,’ said Pearl. ‘Perhaps it all happened so quickly he didn’t have a chance to call his guardian angel.’
‘Or perhaps,’ said Mitch gloomily, ‘he’d sent his guardian angel away to look after little kids.’
Pearl looked at Mitch’s sad freckled face and wished there was something she could do to help him feel better.
She realised there was.
Later, after she’d told her idea to Mitch and he’d got excited, she ran through it in her head with Winston.
He thought it was good idea, too.
‘I can’t take all the credit,’ said Pearl modestly. ‘I reckon having a Gran helps a person think better.’
The new water wings were bright yellow.
Pearl felt a bit embarrassed putting them on because it was after six and the swimming club people were training in the pool.
She put them on anyway.
No point buying them for Mitch and not showing him how to use them.
She showed him how they worked much better for breaststroke than crawl, and how for backstroke they were suicide.
‘Let me try,’ said Mitch excitedly.
He sat on the side and Pearl helped him put a pair on his arms and the other pair on his legs.
The man in the sports shop had told her she’d only need one pair, but she’d told the man in the sports shop he didn’t know Mitch.
He must have understood because he’d let her have both pairs for fifty dollars.
‘Today,’ said Pearl, when Mitch was ready to go, ‘just stretch out your arms and legs and float.’
Mitch slipped into the water.
He thrashed around for a while with only his arms and legs above the surface.
Pearl wondered if he was going to be the first person in the history of the world to drown with four water wings on.
Then, suddenly, Mitch was on his back with his arms and legs straight out and nearly half his body out of the water.
‘I’m floating!’ he yelled.
The swimming club people all looked over and joined Pearl in the applause.
Water Wings Page 6
