Cool Bananas

by Christine Harris

  To the real Claudia,

  who swims like a fish

  from Christine

  To Phoebe and Indigo

  from Bettina

  Contents

  Cover

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Copyright

  One

  Claudia tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.

  None of the faces in the airport terminal looked familiar.

  He’ll be pale, she thought.And there’ll be grey hairs on his chin. I hope he doesn’t smell. Or try to make me eat cabbage.

  Back home, the old woman next door, Mrs Pearl, cooked cabbage a lot. She boiled it into a green mush. Then a sour smell like a big burp would ooze out of her windows.

  Claudia put her left leg forward so her hip stuck out. She’d seen models stand that way. Her silver shoulder bag was new. So was her cropped T-shirt and sparkly jeans. The stickers on her stomach looked like real tattoos.

  But even thinking about clothes couldn’t stop her worrying. What if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s forgotten?

  Nervously, she touched the badge on her T-shirt. It told everyone she was travelling alone.

  Makes me look like a loser, she thought.

  ‘Leave that on, please,’ said Rowena, the flight attendant. Her smile showed red lipstick on one tooth. ‘Wait till your grandfather gets here.’

  Claudia sighed.

  Rowena pointed to a man in a navy suit. His silver hair was neatly parted. ‘Is that him?’

  ‘No.’ He was nothing like the blurry photograph her mother had shown her. Even though the photograph was twenty years old.

  Claudia imagined her grandfather was so old he would have a bent back. Maybe he would lean on a walking stick, shuffling with tired steps.

  ‘Hey, dudes,’ a deep voice boomed out.

  Claudia turned, and froze. I don’t believe it.

  Two

  Claudia slid down in the car seat. She was glad that no-one here knew her.

  Grandpa’s car was splashed with mud.

  The aerial was bent like a boomerang. And there was a long scrape down the driver’s door. A sticker on the dashboard read, ‘Don’t drink and drive — you might spill something.’

  Grandpa’s shirt was a sickening mash of colours. It made her eyeballs feel funny just looking at it. He wore open sandals, which showed his long yellow toenails. His hair was gelled into spikes and he wore wraparound sunglasses.

  The car smelt of takeaway food. Empty bags and boxes told her where he bought dinner.

  ‘I thought you guys ate vegetables,’ she said.

  ‘You guys?’ Grandpa crunched the gears.

  Claudia shrugged.

  ‘Hamburgers have lettuce,’ Grandpa grinned. ‘That’s enough greens for me.’

  This man was family, yet he was a stranger. He was supposed to wear grey trousers and knitted cardigans. Not crazy shirts. Old people ate soup or vegetables. They didn’t pig out on hamburgers.

  ‘Burgers are cheap. Great for pensioners,’ said Grandpa. ‘You get meat, salad and bread all in one go!’

  Claudia rolled her eyes and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She hoped her pink suitcase wouldn’t get grubby in the boot.

  ‘Well, what’s your favourite food then?’ asked Grandpa.

  ‘Prawn curry.’

  ‘Far out! Hey, how’s your mother these days?’

  Claudia shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Still pick her nose?’

  Claudia didn’t know what to say. Her mother wouldn’t allow even a speck of dust in their house. She ironed every wrinkle from everything, including the sheets. Mum wouldn’t even say the word ‘nose’, never mind stick something up there.

  ‘She didn’t tell you that, did she?’ Grandpa chuckled. ‘Always had her finger up there when she was little. I told her if she kept it up, her brains would fall out. One day she started sobbing. Her nose was running and she thought her brains were coming out.’

  ‘You lied to her,’ accused Claudia.

  ‘I imagined,’ he said. ‘There’s a difference. And it worked. She doesn’t pick any more, does she?’

  Two weeks,thought Claudia. I have to stay with this weirdo for two weeks.

  Three

  Claudia wondered what Grandpa’s house would be like.Probably dark. It’ll smell like old potatoes. He’ll have doilies and plastic flowers. Maybe there’ll be magazines on war or caravan holidays.

  Grandpa flicked on the left indicator. The car turned into the driveway of a block of flats.

  There was one empty parking space. And there wasn’t much room to turn. Grandpa drove forward, then backward. Forward, then backward. Forward, then backward.

  Bang. The car bumper knocked a rubbish bin. Its lid fell open. Bulging plastic bags tumbled out. Claudia gasped.

  ‘Just checking if the rubbish truck’s been yet.’ Grandpa wrenched on the handbrake. ‘Come on. Help me pick up that stuff. No-one will know the difference.’

  Claudia stayed in her seat.I’m not picking up someone else’s stinky rubbish.

  When he was done, she got out of the car.

  Grandpa dragged Claudia’s case from the boot and plonked it on the ground.

  I’m not touching that handle,she thought.He didn’t wash his hands.

  Grandpa carried the case upstairs. He unlocked the door and flung it open, with a loud. ‘Welcome.’

  His belongings were scattered everywhere.

  ‘Didn’t you have time to put things away?’ she asked.

  ‘They are away. I know exactly where everything is. Soon as you put things in cupboards, you can’t find them.’ Grandpa dropped his keys onto the kitchen bench. ‘Want to go down to the beach?’

  The fourth floor flat had a wonderful view of the sea. White sand and vivid blue water.

  ‘Unless you’re too tired,’ said Grandpa.

  ‘I’m not tired.’ This was a chance to show off her new swimming outfit and beach towel.

  ‘Cool bananas. He who hesitates is…uh…takes a lot longer.’

  ‘Lost, Grandpa,’ said Claudia.

  ‘I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am. Even got it engraved on this copper bracelet in case I forget.’

  ‘I meant, “He who hesitates is lost”.’

  ‘Well, he could be. That might be why he takes longer.’ Grandpa put his sunglasses beside the keys. ‘You’ll have to keep an eye on me at the beach.’

  He looked healthy, but Grandpa wasn’t young anymore. Maybe he worried about crowds. Or the sun burning brown spots on his skin.

  ‘Soon as those women see me in my shorts,’ he said, ‘they’ll mob me.’

  Claudia groaned.He’s going to be trouble, I just know it.

  Four

  The sun was warm. Waves rolled lazily onto the sand. Claudia stretched out on her towel. She opened one eye. Grandpa knelt a small distance away.

  How can he go outside like that?she thought.

  Grandpa’s baggy board shorts came down to his knees. He was too old for board shorts. He was too old for any shorts. His wrinkled skin belonged to a suntanned tortoise.

  Earlier, when she was getting ready, he had knocked and called out, ‘Today would be good!’

  When she was finally ready, Grandpa had looked her up and down. ‘What were you doing in there?’

&
nbsp; Claudia flicked her blonde hair over her shoulders. ‘I had to put on my swimming outfit, find my shorts and beach T-shirt, put on sunscreen, lip gloss, brush the knots out of my hair and change my earrings. Then I had to get my hat.’

  It had only taken him two minutes to get ready. She suspected he had the board shorts on underneath his trousers.

  ‘We’re only going to the beach,’ said Grandpa. ‘Not the mall.’

  ‘You can’t just wear the first thing you find,’ she’d told him.

  ‘Why not?’

  She had pointed to his purple-and-orange board shorts. ‘That’s why not.’

  He nodded.

  It was hard to argue with someone who agreed with you. She wondered if that was why he did it. But no, he was too old to be that tricky.

  Now, she lay on the beach and wished she had painted her toenails pink, to match her hat.

  Flying sand caught her attention. ‘Grandpa, what are you doing?’

  ‘Digging a hole in the sand.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To see how deep I can go.’

  She leant on one elbow. ‘Then what?’ ‘Then I’ll fill it in again.’

  Great! Claudia flopped back on her towel.

  My grandpa is spending his afternoon digging holes and filling them in again.

  She watched a parade of people go past. A pregnant woman struggled with an excited toddler. Two sweaty men with big muscles jogged along the sand. Then came tourists. They stood at the water’s edge with their trousers rolled up to their knees, cameras around their necks.

  ‘Finished digging,’ said Grandpa. ‘Want to go for a swim?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘The water won’t be cold. Weather’s been warm for days.’

  ‘I’ve got a new swimming outfit. It’ll get wet.’

  Grandpa brushed his sandy hands on his board shorts. ‘Aha. There’s the magic word. Swimming. You’re meant to get wet.’

  ‘Do you want me to stand at the edge while you paddle?’ Maybe he was more nervous than he let on.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m an iceberg.’

  Was he losing his mind? Sometimes that happened when people got old.

  ‘An iceberg swims all year round, even in winter. We meet every morning at the beach.’ Grandpa thumped his chest. It was webbed with grey hairs. ‘Keeps me young.’

  Claudia rolled her eyes.

  ‘Don’t forget, keep an eye out for strange women,’ said Grandpa. ‘Course, I quite like strange women. They make me look normal.’

  He ran across the sand, then dived into a wave. He swam like a dolphin.

  She felt a little lonely.

  Grandpa waved.

  Claudia waved back.

  Her stomach did its fluttering thing. It did that when she was upset or nervous. Sometimes it turned into a stomach ache.

  She could never tell Grandpa the real reason she wouldn’t go in the water.

  Five

  Back at the flat, Claudia waited till she heard the shower start. Good. Grandpa wouldn’t be able to hear what she said.

  Quickly, she picked up the phone and dialled home. Please don’t let it be the answering machine. Often when she rang from after-school care or a friend’s house, she got the answering machine. Mum worked long hours.

  It rang three times. Then she heard her mother’s voice, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Mum,’ she whispered.

  ‘Who is this? I can’t hear you.’

  Claudia spoke louder. ‘It’s me. Claudia.’

  ‘Oh. I thought it was the taxi company ringing me back. Look, sweetie, I’m about to go to the airport. Italy is waiting!’

  ‘Take me with you,’ begged Claudia.

  ‘I can’t. I’m leaving in five minutes.’

  ‘Grandpa’s crazy,’ Claudia whispered.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘He’s my father, remember?’

  ‘Well, why did you send me over here?’

  ‘Mrs Pearl broke her leg. There’s nowhere else to send you. Claudia, you’ll survive, it’s only for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘We had a car accident today,’ she said.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Her mother’s tone changed. ‘What did you hit?’

  ‘A rubbish bin.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘I might be suffering from shock. I could faint at any time.’

  ‘Don’t waste energy talking then…gotta go. Taxi’s here.’

  ‘I could drown. Grandpa could lose me on the beach. A freak wave could dash me to pieces on the rocks. You might never see me again.’

  ‘Love you too.’ There was a clunk. Then silence.

  ‘Mum?’

  Six

  The sun sank behind the sea as Claudia followed Grandpa along the footpath.

  It isn’t fair, she thought.Mum’s on her way to Italy and I have to stay with a man who drives over bins and wears purple-and-orange board shorts.

  Grandpa stopped at a cafe with outside tables.

  ‘Here we are.’ Grandpa held out a chair for Claudia. ‘The food here is so fresh the chicken still has feathers on it.’

  Claudia decided not to order the chicken.

  Each table was brightened by a tea-light candle and covered with a red tablecloth. Clear plastic sheeting blocked a cool wind from the beach.

  Grandpa’s yellow-and-red shirt clashed with the tablecloth.

  Claudia sneaked a look under the table. Her pretty new sandals had green straps and shiny stones along the top. But they had rubbed skin from her toe. She could have done with a bandaid. But she’d rather eat snails than wear a bandaid out to dinner.

  Grandpa examined the tablecloth. He pushed a black speck onto his serviette and took it over to a pot plant.

  He returned with a satisfied look. ‘He lives to bite another day.’

  ‘Who does?’ asked Claudia.

  ‘The ant. That’s why I wear ripple-soled shoes, to give the ants a fifty-fifty chance,’ he said. ‘It might rain.’

  ‘Ants are a sign of rain?’ asked Claudia.

  ‘Are they?’

  ‘That’s what you just said.’

  ‘No. I had a full stop in that sentence. I’m just telling you that I saw an ant. I know it might rain because I saw the weather report on TV last night.’

  Talking to Grandpa was like talking to six people at once. Except all the words came out of one mouth.

  Annoyed, Claudia looked at the menu. She didn’t know what half the dishes were, but she didn’t say so.

  ‘I’m ordering dessert first.’ Grandpa smacked his lips.

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’ He blinked through his reading glasses.

  ‘You’re supposed to eat meat and vegetables first.’

  ‘We’re on holidays. What does it matter this one time?’ Grandpa laughed. ‘I’m having Death by Chocolate.’

  Claudia wriggled and her chair creaked.

  ‘Pardon,’ said Grandpa.

  Startled, Claudia looked up. ‘It wasn’t you.’

  ‘Oh, it usually is.’ He grinned.

  Claudia smothered her own grin.

  A young, dark-haired waiter with a pierced nose came to take their order.

  Grandpa peered at the waiter’s nose ring.

  Claudia was relieved when he didn’t say anything.

  ‘So I can have whatever I like?’ she asked.

  Grandpa nodded.

  ‘First, I’d like the butterscotch pudding with caramel sauce and cream,’ she told the waiter. ‘After that, prawn curry please.’

  The waiter’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You want the pudding first?’

  ‘We both do.’ Grandpa slipped his reading glasses into his top pocket.

  The waiter’s mouth tightened into a knot. He wrote on his order pad, then sulked all the way back to the kitchen.

  This is kind of fun, decided Claudia.

  Grandpa tucked his serviette into his collar.

&nbs
p; ‘Most people put their serviette over their knees. But I don’t drop food on my knees. I spill it down my shirt.’

  Claudia supposed it didn’t matter as long as he caught the drips. She felt herself relax. Maybe Grandpa isn’t so bad.

  Grandpa pushed his false teeth forward with his tongue. Then he took them out and licked them. ‘Grit.’

  Seven

  The next morning at breakfast, Claudia almost attacked her cereal. She was hungry, and that surprised her. Only a few days ago, her mother had nagged her, ‘Don’t pick at your food. Eat it.’

  ‘I am eating,’ Claudia had answered. ‘See? There’s food going in my mouth.’

  ‘You eat like a bird,’ her mother had said.

  ‘No, I don’t. Birds pull worms out of the ground.’

  This morning, Claudia looked across at Grandpa. She could imagine him saying something like that about worms.

  Grandpa looked up from his paper. ‘Rabbits are a ridiculous price. When I was a boy we chased them and caught them for fun.’ A glint came into his eyes. ‘Do you know how to catch a rabbit, Claudia?’

  Her mouth was full, so she simply shook her head. Catching rabbits was not on her list of Fun Things to Do. Fun was going to the movies, to a party, or rollerblading.

  ‘You hide behind a bush and make carrot calls.’ Grandpa lifted the newspaper up. It shook slightly.

  Is he laughing behind there? Claudia thought. Lucky he laughs at his own jokes. Otherwise no-one would.

  At least he wasn’t grumpy. Not like Mum. Claudia felt guilty. It wasn’t Mum’s fault. She worked hard. She travelled a lot. She looked after the house and garden. Well, she paid the gardener. But there was always so much to do and not enough time. When Mum came home from work, she was too tired to talk much.

  But Claudia had her videos and books. And she had computer games.

  She noticed Grandpa’s strong fingers holding the newspaper. They were freckled, with fat knuckles. Claudia wanted to ask him a question. It was on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out.