Brigid Lucy Needs A Best Friend

by Leonie Norrington

  Now we’re finished our bath. Dad is drying and dressing Matilda and little Ellen. So me and Biddy go back to the kitchen. The bubbles are all gone. The floor is clean, the cupboards are all wiped, the dishwasher is silent. Wow! The dishwasher washed the dishes and cleaned the whole kitchen.

  What a good job done. Mum is going to say we are the best helpers and probably take us to the Botanic Gardens every day to play imaginary princesses.

  Where is Mum?

  Then we hear Mum talking on the phone. ‘Could you come tomorrow?’ she says. ‘He tries to help but ends up making a bigger mess.’

  ‘He’ is Biddy’s dad. Mum always calls Dad ‘he’ when he has done something wrong. What has Dad done wrong? We fixed up the not-enough-powder so it can’t be that.

  ‘Tonight he put too much powder in the dishwasher.’ Mum’s voice is choked with sadness. ‘There was foam all over the kitchen. I had a huge mess to clean up.’

  Biddy puts her hand over her mouth. ‘But it wasn’t Dad. Dad didn’t put enough powder in. It was me who…’

  ‘Don’t tell, Biddy,’ I say. ‘You will get into trouble.’

  But she steps forward. ‘Mum,’ she says.

  ‘Brigid!’ Mum says putting her hand up to tell her to be quiet.

  ‘But, Mum,’ Biddy says again. ‘It wasn’t Dad.’

  Mum puts her hand over the phone and yells, ‘Brigid Lucy. I am on the phone. Please go to bed.’

  Biddy twists her mouth sideways to stop herself from talking. Then she goes to wait in the hall for Mum to get off the phone.

  We can hear Mum. Talking. Talking. Talking. Then she says, ‘Thanks, Mum. You are such a help. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Mum?’ Biddy whispers. ‘Mum said, “Mum”. She was talking to Granny!’

  Granny is Mum’s mum so that is why she calls her ‘Mum’. Granny is our absolute favourite grown-up. She’s a scientist. She knows everything about magic and nature. She makes all the magic get-well potions for the POISON— DO NOT TOUCH cupboard. And she has all the stories about witches and dragons. She even knows where fairies live.

  Plus, Biddy can tell her anything. She always sticks up for Biddy, always.

  ‘Mum said, “See you in the morning”,’ Biddy whispers. ‘That means Granny is coming in the morning.’

  And so Biddy forgets all about telling Mum about the dishwasher. She runs to her room, jumps into bed, pulls the sheet over her head and sings in a whisper, ‘Granny’s coming over. Granny’s coming over!’

  Dad comes in to say goodnight. Usually when Dad does the ‘goodnighting’, he reads Biddy a story. Then he says, ‘Now go to sleep,’ turns off the light and goes out. But tonight, he doesn’t even open the book.

  Biddy puts her arm around Dad and says, ‘Daddy, are you alright?’ He nods and opens the book. ‘Are you in trouble, Dad?’ Dad smiles a brave smile. ‘The dishwasher,’ he says.

  ‘Biddy,’ I say. ‘Don’t tell Dad about the dishwasher or we won’t get to go to the Botanic Gardens.’

  But she doesn’t listen.

  ‘But you didn’t put too much powder in,’ she says. ‘You didn’t put enough in. I had to put more in to make it work.’

  ‘You what?’ Dad says.

  ‘Stop, Biddy!’ I yell, running out to the end of her nose with my arms up. ‘Adults can’t understand explanations.’

  But Biddy explains to Dad about the ‘not enough powder’. And how she knows she’s not allowed in the POISON—DO NOT TOUCH cupboard. So she used detergent instead.

  ‘But you promised to be good,’ Dad shouts. ‘We shook hands on it! You said you would help.’

  ‘But I was helping,’ Biddy says.

  ‘Helping?’ Dad says getting up. ‘Putting dishwashing detergent in the dishwasher isn’t helping!’

  Then he glares at Biddy.

  ‘We won’t be going to the Botanic Gardens after this,’ he says and walks out closing Biddy’s door with a thump.

  I want to tell Biddy, ‘I told you not to tell him!’ And, ‘Why don’t you ever listen to me?’ But Biddy is so sad, she is not even sucking her thumb. She is just looking at the ceiling, her eyes all crumpled up with melancholy. (That’s a fairy story word meaning too, too, too sad.)

  She is as melancholy as a tristeelia. They are the saddest creatures in the known universe. They come from the Great Bushland where I come from. They live in old cars and tyres that humans have abandoned.

  I feel like a tristeelia too. It is like everything is too hard and too sad. I don’t know how to help Biddy. So I just lie on her eyelids to make them heavy. Then stroke them to make her go to sleep.

  Chapter seven

  a friendship spell

  The next morning we smell cinnamon and dates. ‘Granny’s porridge,’ Biddy says. She jumps out of bed and runs to the kitchen. And there is Granny. Stirring a pot of porridge. ‘Granny,’ Biddy whispers so she doesn’t wake up anyone else, and wraps her arms around Granny’s waist.

  ‘How is my gorgeous girl?’ Granny says. She sits down at the kitchen table and pulls Biddy onto her lap.

  Biddy snuggles into her softness for ages and ages. Then she sits up.

  ‘Granny, I’m so glad you are here,’ Biddy says. ‘The terriblest things have happened. I haven’t got one single friend. No one at school likes me.’ Then Biddy’s voice cracks with crying. ‘I’m the most all alone no friend person in the entire universe.’

  ‘Give it time,’ Granny says cuddling her. ‘You will find a friend.’

  ‘I was going to get a friend at the Botanic Gardens,’ Biddy sobs. ‘Now Mum and Dad won’t let me go!’ She looks up at Granny. ‘Please can you make Mum take me to the Botanic Gardens?’

  ‘No, darling,’ Granny says, cuddling Biddy closer. ‘Your mum is the boss of you. You have to do what she says.’

  ‘But what if you tell her, Granny? You are Mum’s mum,’ Biddy says. ‘She has to do what her mum says too.’

  Granny laughs. Her whole face wobbles with giggles, especially her chins. ‘Come on now, my clever little one,’ she says. ‘Let’s have our porridge and a nice talk before those noisy babies wake up.’

  But then, ‘Mummy!’ Matilda does wake up and makes so much noise that she wakes up Mum and little Ellen.

  Then all the time is taken up with changing of nappies, and making of cups of tea and feeding little Ellen porridge.

  And Mum is talking to Granny about grown-up stuff like being sick and babies and hospitals.

  We can’t cuddle Granny because Miss Getting-All-The-Attention Matilda has taken up all the space on Granny’s knee.

  And we can’t talk to her because Mum is telling Granny that Biddy is disobedient and rambunctious. (Which is like yelling and jumping and having too much fun.) And, ‘That-child-will-be-the-death-of-me.’

  But Granny doesn’t tell Mum off for ‘telling tales’. Which is not fair. When Biddy tells tales, Granny says, ‘Don’t tell tales. Tails are for monkeys.’

  That afternoon, when Mum and Matilda and little Ellen lie down to have a rest, me and Biddy get Granny all to ourselves again.

  ‘Granny,’ Biddy asks, ‘do you really think I will get a best girlfriend?’

  ‘Of course, darling,’ Granny says. ‘A wonderful, kind, clever girl like you will always find a best friend.’

  ‘Can I have a friend, too?’

  That’s Matilda. She’s one of the little kids. She should be sleeping.

  So Biddy says, ‘Matilda, go back to bed.’

  But Granny cuddles Matilda and says, ‘I think we need a friendship spell.’

  ‘What’s a spell?’ Matilda asks.

  ‘A spell makes wonderful things happen,’ Granny says.

  ‘Like a miracle,’ Biddy explains to Matilda. ‘Can you really make a girlfriend spell?’ Biddy asks Granny. ‘Can I have a friend with long brown hair in plaits and a pony? Can her name be Isolde?’

  ‘Me too,’ Matilda says. ‘And a silver grey Siamese cat.’

  ‘No, Matil
da,’ Biddy says. ‘You are too little for making spells.’

  But Granny says, ‘Actually, three people will make the spell stronger.’

  ‘Okay then, Matilda,’ Biddy says, ‘but you have to do everything Granny says.’ She lifts her finger like Mum does when she is very serious. ‘No crying or the spell might go wrong and turn you into a frog.’

  ‘I won’t cry,’ Matilda says and holds her lips tightly together.

  ‘Cat-a-clys-mic Cat-astro-phe!’ I say. Spells are real. They are like the Incantation Songs the magical creatures in the Great Bushland use to turn you into a piece of infinity. Remember in Cinderella how the fairy godmother turned the pumpkin into a golden carriage? That’s a spell. Or when the wicked witch turned the prince into a frog? They really work!

  If Granny casts a spell, Biddy will really get a human friend. ‘I’ve got to stop them,’ I say running up and down Biddy’s arm in panic.

  Chapter eight

  Diligamus nos salutat

  ‘We need herbs,’ Granny says, taking Biddy and Matilda by the hand. ‘We need yarrow, some dandelion, a couple of sprigs of lavender…’

  ‘Yarrow? Dandelion?’ I stop running and laugh with relief. Herbs are not spells. Herbs are for potions like the ones in the POISON—DO NOT TOUCH cupboard. The ones Granny makes to fix headaches or bruises or stop people sneezing. Granny’s just calling it a spell as an imagination game. What fun.

  We search for herbs in the front garden and down the street. But all we see is cut-flat lawns and pruned-straight trees and concrete paths.

  Until, ‘Is this a magic spell-making herb?’ Matilda asks picking a daisy.

  ‘Yes!’ Granny says. ‘Daisies are full of sunshine.’

  ‘Here’s some more,’ Biddy picks four daisies from under Jamie’s fence where the lawnmower can’t reach.

  Granny crouches down. ‘Here is some yarrow,’ she says. ‘There is some lavender. Now where are the dandelions?’

  ‘Is this dandelion?’ Biddy says pointing to some tiny yellow flowers struggling up in the crack in the footpath.

  ‘Yes,’ Granny says. ‘That’s all we need.’

  When we get home, Granny pops all the herbs in a muslin bag.

  ‘Do we need a lizard’s tail?’ Biddy asks.

  ‘Do you have one?’ Granny says.

  ‘Yep, he left his tail in my bedroom when he got a fright,’ Biddy says.

  ‘And I’ve got a stiff frog,’ Matilda says. ‘It came inside and dried up in my room.’

  ‘Well, lizards’ tails and frogs are very useful for changing-spells,’ Granny says. ‘And getting a friend is a change, isn’t it?’

  Granny drops the lizard’s tail and the dried-up frog into the bag.

  ‘Do we have to say special words with the spell?’ Biddy asks.

  ‘We will do it tonight,’ Granny says. ‘Spells work better at night when everyone is asleep.’

  Which is true. All the magical creatures in the Great Bushland sing their magical Incantation Songs at night. That is why you have to be careful at night-time. If one of their Incantation Songs accidentally rebounds and hits you, it can zap you and make you sick or dead. I shiver thinking about the Great Bushland Songs. But this is not a real one. It is just a lizard’s tail, dried-up frog and daisies potion. It isn’t scary at all.

  After dinner, Granny, Biddy and me and Matilda go into Biddy’s room. Granny puts the pretend spell bag on the floor and we stand around it in a circle. ‘Hold hands,’ Granny says. ‘Close your eyes. And repeat after me: Let us greet and love each other,’ she sings in a soft voice.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘Why are you singing?’ Potions don’t have singing. Spells and Incantation Songs have singing. ‘Stop!’ I yell.

  But they don’t stop. Biddy and Matilda copy Granny’s words carefully.

  If they make a proper spell Biddy will get a human friend. I’ve got to stop it working.

  They are holding hands. Dad and Biddy held hands to bind their promise. Maybe if I break the bond between their hands, it will wreck the spell. I race down and squeeze myself between Granny’s and Biddy’s hands and push. And push. And PUSH!

  But their hands stay tight together. And Granny continues singing the Spell Incantation Song. ‘Diligamus nos salutat,’ she says.

  I tickle Biddy on the palm. Perhaps if I can make her palm itchy she will have to let go to scratch it.

  But she just frowns and holds on tighter, still repeating Granny’s words exactly. ‘Diligamus nos salutat.’

  Nothing is working! Biddy is going to get a boring human best friend and I will get eaten by the best friend’s cat!

  ‘Let us accept and love each other,’ Granny sings.

  What about Matilda?

  She felt me when me and the bubble landed on her. Perhaps I can make her break the spell. I dive between Biddy’s and Matilda’s hands and tickle Matilda’s palm.

  She smiles, opens her eyes and looks at Biddy but she keeps holding her hand and repeats Granny’s words correctly.

  Nothing is working. And Granny keeps singing: ‘Esto et diligamus.’

  So, I bite Matilda’s palm.

  She frowns.

  Then I bite and pinch her and bite her again in the soft skin between her fingers.

  ‘Biddy, stop it!!’ Matilda yells, letting go of Biddy’s hand. ‘Stop pinching me.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Biddy says, scratching her palm.

  ‘What is the matter?’ Granny asks. She lets both their hands go and stops singing.

  Yes. The Spell Incantation Song is broken. Whew!

  ‘You ruined the spell!’ Biddy yells.

  ‘I did not! You did!’

  ‘The spell will still work,’ Granny says.

  Which is a total fib. It takes a long time to make an Incantation Song.

  I’ve heard them making Incantation Songs in the Great Bushland. They sing the words over and over. Sometimes all night. Granny didn’t even get the whole spell said once.

  But Granny doesn’t care. She says, ‘Come on, off to bed,’ and picks up the spell bag and tosses it on the dressing table. ‘Spells work best when you are asleep.’

  Biddy lies in bed whispering, ‘I’m going to get a magic miracle girlfriend,’ over and over. She only stops when Granny climbs in to sleep in her spare bunk bed and says, ‘Shh, now, darling. Goodnight, Biddy.’

  I’m so exhausted. I drag myself into Biddy’s hair, make a quick hair nest and fall fast asleep.

  Chapter nine

  a worried anxious night

  In the middle of the night Dad comes into Biddy’s room to wake up Granny. ‘It’s started,’ he whispers.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Granny says and gets up.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Biddy asks.

  ‘Go back to sleep, darling,’ Granny says. ‘Everything is alright.’

  But Mum and Dad never wake up in the middle of the night unless Matilda or little Ellen is crying. Something is wrong.

  Biddy thinks so too. She opens her bedroom door and sneaks down the hall to have a look.

  I stand on top of her head holding a piece of her hair for balance, my mouth closed tight to see and hear better.

  We peek into the lounge room. Mum is frowning and walking and frowning and holding her belly. She looks sick.

  Dad is saying, ‘Are you alright?’ and ‘What can I do?’

  Granny is rubbing Mum’s back and sponging her head.

  ‘Mum is sick,’ Biddy whispers. ‘But Mum never gets sick.’

  Biddy is right. Mum never gets sick. Why would she get sick now?

  The spell!

  What if, when I stopped the Spell Incantation Song, it rebounded and accidentally hit Mum? Now she is going to get sick and it is going to be all my fault.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Biddy says. ‘Mum said I would be the death of her.’

  She covers her face with her hands. ‘Just because you want a best friend, Brigid Lucy,’ she says. ‘You did rudeness, and arguing and telling tales
to Granny. Now Mum is going to die.’ She runs to her room, climbs into bed and hides under the sheet.

  I want to tell Biddy it wasn’t her that made Mum sick, it was me and the rebounding Incantation Song. But I’m so anxious and worried I can’t move.

  But we can’t stay in the bedroom. We have to sneak down the hall again and again. But no matter how many times we look, Mum doesn’t get any better. She walks and sits. She breathes and leans on the wall. She frowns, walks and sits. She breathes and screws up her face and holds her belly.

  It is so scary that me and Biddy run back to her bed and curl into a little ball wanting to disappear into ourselves forever.

  Then Dad comes in. Biddy closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep, so he can’t tell her off for making Mum sick.

  But he just says, ‘Shh, darling,’ and picks her up and carries her out to the car.

  Mum is in the front seat, but her eyes are closed.

  At the hospital, Dad makes beds for Biddy, little Ellen and Matilda on the chairs in the waiting room. Matilda and little Ellen are fast asleep but me and Biddy are just pretending.

  Mum is in a room. Every time the door opens you can hear machines beeping and honking.

  First Granny sits with us while Dad goes in with Mum for ages. Then Dad sits with us while Granny goes in with Mum for more ages.

  Then Granny comes out and Dad goes in.

  Then Dad comes out and Granny goes in.

  The nurses rush in and out. Their shoes squeak as they walk, just like the hospital on the TV where people die dead.

  I know all about deadness. There is lots of it in the Great Bushland where I come from. But we don’t have hospitals, so this is a bit different.

  Then Matilda rolls over, nearly falls off her chair bed and starts to cry.

  ‘Shh, shh,’ Dad says picking her up. ‘Go back to sleep. Everything’s okay.’ He lays her across his lap, patting her back.

  Matilda snuggles back to sleep.

  But me and Biddy know that everything is not okay. The weight of knowing it is so heavy on us we can hardly breathe.