I Have a Bed Made of Buttermilk Pancakes

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  Tabitha couldn’t be there, Toni explained, because her sister had just had the baby. And Rhamie and Abigail had their indoor finals the next day, and had to keep in form.

  Work friends alone like this are pointless, Marbie realised as she listened to Toni’s explanations. They only succeed as a team. But she rallied and said in an upbeat voice: ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  Toni replied: ‘I was going to get you a drink! But, okay. Gin, lemon and lime? I cannot believe Tabitha piked. I mean, fair enough Abi and Rhamie, they were absolutely shattered last night, and their final’s important. But I mean, the baby’s not going anywhere, and this is when you need us, don’t you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Marbie. ‘But a baby.’

  She fetched the drinks and took the long way back, nervously scanning for the aeronautical engineer. She wished she could scan for Vernon, but he had never been to the Night Owl Pub.

  Toni began a story as soon as she returned, her elbows on the table and her fingers at the straw of her drink. Marbie lost the thread at once.

  ‘. . . so he was going, and I was going, and Abi was thinking of coming as far as the bridge . . .’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘. . . I mean, I love her to death, she’s an absolute sweetheart, but seriously, I just can’t stand it when . . .’

  ‘No-o.’

  ‘. . . I mean, sure, maybe I wasn’t up to scratch, but all they had to do was come and talk it through.’

  ‘Obviously!’

  ‘. . . And Leila, fairly obviously, is not up to it.’

  Who is Leila?

  Marbie risked: ‘Absolutely!’

  At which Toni shook her head a little: ‘Not Leila, I mean Katerina, of course.’

  Marbie nodded sagely: ‘Of course.’

  While Toni talked, Marbie remembered that Vernon would not be at the Meeting that night. Also, that Listen would not be there to watch a movie with Cassie.

  She drove to her own apartment instead of her parents’ place, and found the mailbox overflowing, and ten messages on the phone. They were all from Tabitha and Toni, seeing how she was.

  She phoned her mother and said she could not go to the Meeting that night, and her mother said, ‘But, darling, you and Fancy still haven’t done the Maintenance Intrusion. And Project 78 . . .’

  But Marbie was insistent. Then she sat in a beanbag and watched TV all night.

  It’s Saturday! So you’re allowed to do the next Spell.

  Well done for waiting!

  I hope you have been well.

  This is a Spell To Make Someone Find Something Unexpected In A Washing Machine!

  Go for a walk and shout: HOORAY whenever you see something that looks strange, or lovely, or orange.

  The Spell will work in seven weeks or so. You can do the next Spell next Saturday.

  In the second week of the school holidays, the weather men and women gave up hope of more snow. But it remained record-breakingly cold.

  Fancy and Cassie fell into the habit of sleeping in, then deciding on an outing for the day while eating porridge with brown sugar in the kitchen. They had already seen all the holiday movies in the first week, and Cassie was beginning to complain about Lucinda, so they had to use their imaginations.

  Of course, by the time they left the house each day, the Canadian had finished his breakfast and was nowhere to be seen.

  Friday night at the Zing Family Secret Meeting, Fancy told Marbie she had run in to Vernon at Coles the previous afternoon. He was buying tangerines. He looked sad. He had bleached his hair white-blond with sprouting black roots and a jagged short cut. Also, he was wearing a long black overcoat which floated, moodily, to the laces of his ankle-high boots.

  ‘How terrible,’ Marbie said, about Vernon’s bleached hair. ‘I loved his hair.’

  ‘No,’ said Fancy, thoughtfully. ‘No. It works. It’s entirely sexy.’

  ‘Vernon? It’s me.’

  ‘Oh, hello.’

  ‘Don’t hang up, okay? I just wanted to let you know that I’ll get the mortgage payments on our apartment, okay? While you’re – until you get back, I’ll cover them, okay? In case you were worried. You know how it’s due next week?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Everyone misses you, you know. The meeting last night was awful without you, it was so – And Fancy says she saw you at Coles and you’ve changed your hair, and she says it looks good.’

  ‘Okay. Two things. First, I told your sister not to worry about the Secret, so I’ll tell you that too. It’s safe with me, okay? Second, in relation to the apartment: when you can afford to refund my half of the deposit, send me a cheque, and I’ll transfer my share to you. Everything else, you can keep.’

  He had carved off most of his voice, and the leftover bit was as cold as a dental instrument. Marbie had to close her eyes.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she breathed, with her eyes still closed. ‘If that’s what you think.’

  ‘That’s what I think.’

  ‘Hey, Vernon, it’s me.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Vernon? Can you hear me? It’s me. It’s Marbie.’

  ‘I know who it is.’

  ‘I just forgot to say something when I called earlier.’

  ‘What did you forget to say?’

  ‘I forgot to say, um, happy Saturday. It’s Saturday today.’

  ‘Yes, Marbie, it’s Saturday.’

  ‘Can I speak to Listen?’

  ‘She’s busy.’

  ‘I want to tell her good luck at Cassie’s school on Monday.’

  ‘She’s in the caravan. She didn’t want to be disturbed.’

  ‘Vernon? Can I see you? So I can tell you how sorry I am?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Marbie was still staring at the phone, wondering at its power, when it rang again. It was the aeronautical engineer.

  ‘Come for lunch?’ he said. ‘Today? I’ve got a picnic!’

  ‘I haven’t heard from you for two weeks,’ she said.

  ‘I know!’

  A Spell To Make Somebody Eat A Piece Of Chocolate Cake

  1. Take up rock climbing!

  2. Stop rock climbing!

  3. Take it up again!

  This Spell will work in about six weeks or so. You can do the next Spell in TWO MONTHS!

  The aeronautical engineer greeted Marbie at the door of his house and said, ‘At last! I get to see you again! It’s been two weeks!’ He did not try to kiss her, but kept a respectful distance.

  ‘I have to tell you something,’ Marbie said at once.

  ‘What do you have to tell me?’ He ushered her into the living room, where he had the following items set out neatly on a picnic blanket on the floor:

  pickles

  sundried tomatoes

  two large radishes

  crackers and cheese

  bottled water

  corned beef sandwiches

  boiled eggs

  a salad made of spinach, crumbled bacon, and anchovies

  ‘A lot of food,’ she said, surveying this.

  ‘What do you have to tell me?’ He took her coat.

  ‘I have to tell you about my family,’ she said in a breathless rush, and then frowned at the voice in the back of her head, which was saying, companionably, Marbie, where is your mind? She would have to speak louder, to drown it.

  ‘I HAVE TO TELL YOU OUR FAMILY SECRET!’ she yelled, and he took a step backwards. ‘OKAY, LISTEN FAST, IT’S THIS. We spy on a 2nd grade school teacher named Cath Murphy! WE HAVE A CAMERA INSTALLED IN HER DINING ROOM WINDOW and she does not know that it is there.’ She quietened down in surprise at herself.

  ‘Wo ho!’ He was grinning at her, holding both hands to his ears like a comedian, and then gesturing that she should sit cross-legged on the floor, like him.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she did as he instructed, ‘so, we have a camera in her dining room window and another camera but . . . anyway, earlier this year, she knocked out the camera when she washed the windows, so we
had to go in and replace it. Then she made it go blurry by throwing apple juice at it. So we had to go in again. It slipped again two weeks ago, at the start of the school holidays, so we don’t have a clue what she’s been doing for the last two weeks.’

  ‘Marbie! Marbie! Why did I wait so long to call you?’

  ‘And I don’t feel like doing a Maintenance Intrusion to fix it.’

  ‘You’re a riot and I don’t understand a word! Eat, my princess! Dig in!’

  ‘No,’ said Marbie, watching as a radish rolled across the blanket. ‘I have to tell you more about the Secret.’

  7

  THE HOT AIR BALLOON

  Once upon a time there was a physicist who thought he could invent a balloon. This was in 1783, and the physicist’s name was Professor Charles. To his wife, the Professor made a promise: ‘I shall build a balloon made of taffeta, twelve feet in diameter, covered in india-rubber, and inflated with hydrogen gas!’

  ‘Oh!’ said his wife, not understanding, until, early one rainy March morning, the Professor and his friends paraded the balloon through the streets of Paris on a wagon. They inflated it with hydrogen gas and let it loose. It rose to enormous heights, astounding a crowd, in the rain, on the Champ de Mars.

  It is said that Benjamin Franklin (an old man at the time) was amongst that crowd on the Champ de Mars. Benjamin Franklin, as is widely known, invented such things as: bifocal glasses, a urinary catheter, and a ‘long arm’ for reaching books from the tops of bookshelves. Invention was an interest of his.

  ‘What’s the use in that?’ exclaimed a passerby scornfully – meaning the balloon.

  Ever wise, Benjamin replied, ‘What use is a newborn baby?’

  He meant, Maude understood, that newborn babies grow up to be men, just as balloons would, eventually, grow up into jet-engine planes.

  Maude Sausalito was sixteen years old and the moon was just a slither tonight, a sliver of leftover soap. She was jogging gracefully, her high-heels in her hands, stockinged feet on the damp dewy grass of people’s lawns. The Mickey Mouse Show chanted to itself from the window of every house she passed. A sharp piece of gravel glanced against her toe, and she slowed slightly.

  She was not all that late. But her new boyfriend was coming to dinner at her family’s place that night, and she wanted to make potato casserole. Her favourite thing, at the moment, was to peel and slice potatoes and layer them with salt, pepper and cheese. Then bake for 45 minutes.

  The little white moon, Maude noticed now, was actually tucked into the corner of a big dark circle of moon. She was not pleased about this: it undid the idea of fresh and changing moons; plainly, now, there was just one moon, presenting itself like a dull set of slides, in differing angles of light. But at least it had the look of a chocolate cream biscuit, a curve of white cream at its edge.

  At present, Maude was saving to buy herself a piano. Also, she was growing her hair (which now curled up around her ears) because she wanted it to swish down to her shoulders. She expected this would keep her warmer on cold nights, like a cheap and never-lost scarf.

  She had a bag of mixed lollies in her pocket to share with her new boyfriend, after the potato casserole.

  The new boyfriend’s name was David. He worked in the novelty corkscrew shop next door to the bakery where she worked. He himself was vibrant, energetic, bouncy, and leapt about his life like the tail of a kite. But his family! His family was remarkable. Stretching back to great-great-greatness and beyond, every single one was an inventor. Every surface in David’s house bristled with patent certificates.

  Although the family had not made any money, Maude and David were both looking forward to David’s first invention. They wondered what it would be.

  Maude herself was reading a lot about balloons these days, and she secretly hoped that David might invent something balloon-related.

  Also these days, Maude was spending a lot of time planning the journey in a hot air balloon which she would take on her honeymoon with David.

  David, once he had grown up and invented a thing or two, would probably become a diplomat. Then he would propose to her. Floating along in their honeymoon balloon, they would play chess for long, languid hours. As the sun set each night, David would mix cocktails, gazing at her over slow, careful stirring with the swizzle stick. He would bite his lower lip seductively, and then wink, surprisingly, once.

  As for the Professor’s balloon, it landed in a field, where peasants found it and poked it with pitchforks. Upon smelling the horrible hydrogen smell, they panicked and beat it to death.

  Consequently, the French government issued a ‘Warning to the People on kidnapping Air-balloons’. If you see a black moon in the sky, said the Warning, do not panic! It is not a monster, it is just a bag of silk.

  8

  CATH MURPHY

  On the first day of term after the holiday, Cath arrived to a brisk, blue-sky. She stepped over ridges of mud in the car park, and turned when she heard her name.

  ‘Cath! Cath! How are you? How was your holiday? What about the weather! Were you cold?’

  It was Suzanne, rolling down her window as she pulled into a spot. Cath waited as Suzanne spilled out of her car, and gave her a welcoming hug.

  ‘Wasn’t it cold!’ Suzanne exclaimed, falling into step alongside Cath. ‘My big old house was just freezing! How about your apartment?’

  Cath explained that her landlord had installed central gas heating, with a vent in every room, just before the start of the holidays.

  ‘Lucky duck!’

  ‘Hello there,’ a deep voice moved against the back of Cath’s neck, like slowly warming sunlight. They both turned and there he was: Warren Woodford, smiling down.

  ‘Warren!’ cried Suzanne. ‘How was your holiday?’

  Warren explained that he had attended a K-2 Cognitive Learning Conference in Bowral for the whole two weeks, so it was not, in fact, a holiday. He then interrupted Suzanne’s exclamations to ask after her vacation.

  ‘Me? Oh, I spent a lot of time with Lenny, poor old Lenny – what was up with that anyway? They seemed so happy. I’m just wrecked about that fight. Hey, I left my briefcase in the car!’ Suzanne rolled her eyes affectionately at her own forgetfulness, and skidded back toward the car park. She held a hand flat in the air behind her, meaning they should wait. Obediently, Warren and Cath stood side-by-side watching her.

  ‘Well,’ murmured Warren, without turning his head. ‘I myself am not wrecked about that fight. I myself am fairly stoked about that fight.’

  ‘You can’t be glad,’ said Cath promptly, eyes still on Suzanne, ‘about two happy people having a fight.’

  ‘But I am. I’m glad they had a fight, because then Lenny had a party, and then I went to your place, and then – and look who’s back again!’

  Suzanne hurried up to them, grinning and waving her briefcase.

  In her classroom, waiting for the class to settle down, Cath watched the playground through the window. A long line of girls in blue tunics were marching out of the Assembly Hall in pairs. What was that all about?

  Of course! It was the Year 7 students from St Carmel’s, rescued from their flooded classrooms. She had forgotten all about them. And yet there was something important about them – something she herself had to do – what was that? She could not remember.

  Marcus Ellison was tapping on her elbow. ‘Ms Murphy, I’ve done my class play.’ He handed her a neat manila folder. ‘But we can start practising Cassie’s first if you like,’ he added, formally.

  ‘Well, what a great guy you are, Marcus! Thank you very much. I can’t wait to read it!’ She looked around and noticed Cassie unpacking her bag at her desk. ‘Hey, Cassie, how did you get on with your class play?’

  Cassie looked up from her desk. She tilted her head to the side. She closed the desk-lid slowly and said, with some surprise, ‘I forgot!’

  ‘Oh well, never mind, Cassie, you just write it whenever you can, okay? We’ve still got plenty of time.’
>
  ‘It snowed at my place in the holidays,’ Cassie said, by way of explanation.

  ‘How about that?’ smiled Cath. ‘It snowed at my place, too!’

  Later that morning, they had News, so that everyone could tell about their holidays. It turned out that most of the children believed the snow had happened to them alone. While each child told an amazing story about waking up on the first day of the holiday and finding snow outside!, the rest of the class daydreamed quietly to themselves.

  Cath recalled the first day of her own holiday, how she woke in a ruffled empty bed and looked for a single red rose.

  ‘Well,’ Warren had said, sitting on the side of her bed with one hand flat on her forehead and a takeaway coffee in the other, ‘I promise I’ll leave you a single red rose when I plan to say goodbye. But wild horses could not make me say goodbye. Let’s say wild horses wanted to.’

  Then they had run away together. They went to a K-2 Cognitive Learning Conference in Bowral. Warren was already going to the conference, because Breanna, it turned out, was on a psychology seminar herself. The strange weather meant there were plenty of cancellations, so it was easy for Cath to get a place.

  They attended all the same lectures, sitting side-by-side and writing notes to one another in the margins of their handouts. They ate lunch and had coffees together. They walked the streets of Bowral, looking for the gardens and sweet shops that inspired Mary Poppins.

  They never touched in public, except for one afternoon when they were caught in a downpour and had to cling together, to share the umbrella, as they ran for the shelter of a café. At the café, a woman said sadly, ‘It’s only rain.’

  In the evenings, they said, ‘See you tomorrow,’ in the courtyard, in the presence of other conference attendees. Then they went their separate ways to their own rooms. Warren’s room was in the north wing; Cath’s room was in the east wing. There was a laundry in the basement, which was accessible from all the wings.