Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  ‘Was I this much trouble?’ I asked. ‘Is that why you only had one of me?’

  ‘Flora’s no trouble,’ said Dad. ‘She’s just a baby, doing what babies do. Steph’s having a bit of a tired patch, that’s all. She’ll come good. But we might get Guff to move in for a while and lend a hand.’

  ‘Cool!’ I said, because Auntie Guff is my favourite auntie. (Come to think of it, Auntie Guff is my only auntie, so that makes having a favourite a whole lot more politically correct.) Auntie Guff knows absolutely everything there is to know about stuff that most people think is flaky. You know, like crystals and past lives and auras and chakras. She also works behind the scenes on TV shows and films, so I get to hear stories about actors and what sorts of diets they’re on, and how some of them miss out on roles because they’ve had too much Botox and have lost their facial expressions.

  I helped Dad make dinner so that Steph could rest, but Flora woke up grizzly and it took a long time for Steph to settle her back down again. There wasn’t much anyone could do to help, ’cos most of the time all Flora wanted was Steph’s boobs.

  ‘Just start without me,’ said Steph, with Flora almost dozing over her shoulder. ‘She’s got a sixth sense for meal times. The minute the food’s on the table …’

  ‘No no no,’ said Dad. ‘I want us all to have dinner together. She’s almost there – look, she can hardly keep her eyes open. Want to try putting her down?’

  Steph gently peeled Flora from her shoulder and laid her in the pram. Then she started rocking it. Flora’s eyes shot open and her face winced up as though she was about to cry, but then she suddenly relaxed and drifted off to sleep. Dad wheeled the pram over to his seat, so that he could keep it rocking while we had dinner.

  ‘I haven’t even had time to have a shower today,’ sighed Steph as she sat down. ‘Anyhow, hardly very interesting. How’s things in the outside world, Sunny? Are you all settled in at Carmelene’s?’

  ‘Pretty much. Although being there makes it impossible not to feel sad sometimes. And seriously, I seem to be the only one who misses Granny Carmelene because I’m the only one who really knew her. Recently, I mean. Willow’s made herself a racetrack right around the house, and we’re even thinking of starting up our own neighbourhood doggie entertainment business. It was kind of Lyall’s idea, which is a major worry because he’s going to think he’s the boss and I can tell you right now …’

  I noticed a tear rolling down Steph’s face, and she was biting into her bottom lip, trying to stop it from wobbling. I felt awful. It must have been something I said that made her so upset, but I couldn’t think what. I mean, I thought Steph liked dogs. I looked over to Dad, hoping he could do something to fix it, because, let’s face it, Steph is kind of more his project than anyone else’s.

  ‘Sorry, Sunny, it’s not you … it’s just … everything,’ Steph said, pushing her food around her plate. ‘I’ll be right. Just never imagined life could whittle down to wanting a night’s sleep more than winning the lottery.’

  ‘Have your dinner, love,’ said Dad, still rocking Flora in the pram. ‘And a nice bath. Sunny and I will take care of everything out here, won’t we, Sunny?’

  ‘Sure will,’ I said, hoping like anything that Steph wouldn’t break out into a full-blown blub. That’d mean seeing two adults cry in the same day. Don’t they know that kids simply can’t handle seeing them cry? They’re meant to be setting an example. So, just in case, I was out of there. Especially as I’d been upgraded to first class.

  ‘Have you had a chance to peruse the menu, Miss Hathaway?’ the hostess said.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’m still looking at all the in-flight movies.’

  11.

  Because it was holidays, I stayed at Dad and Steph’s till halfway through Monday. I didn’t sleep too well, though, because I could hear Steph up with Flora in the night, and at one stage Steph even had the TV on, which is right outside my bedroom door. I think she’d just plain forgotten I was there. Then, right when I was deeply asleep, Dad came in to say goodbye and woke me up again.

  ‘Sorry, Sunny,’ he said, ‘but I won’t see you all week. ‘You be a big help to Steph today, now won’t you?’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ I said propping myself up on my elbows to give him a sleepy kiss goodbye. ‘I’ll try.’

  But the problem was, I didn’t really know how to be a big help to Steph. I wasn’t even sure that she wanted me there, or what she wanted any more, for that matter. I wasn’t even sure that she wanted Flora. Still, I got up straight away, thinking I could offer to make some toast, and a cup of tea. I was good at that.

  Steph was setting the baby bath up on the kitchen bench. ‘Morning, Sunny,’ she said. ‘Want to help me bath Flora?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, looking about to see where Flora actually was.

  ‘She’s in our bed. You can go get her if you like.’

  Flora was awake, looking at a flickering shaft of light that was shifting about as the curtain waved. She looked so tiny all by herself in Dad and Steph’s big bed.

  ‘Hey Flora Galora!’ I whispered, making sure I didn’t give her a fright. Flora looked over to me, gave a huge gummy smile and kicked one leg frantically, as though it didn’t actually belong to her body. ‘Hello, Button, it’s bath time.’

  Flora kicked both legs and flapped her arms. It was a definite advantage in communicating with babies that I was already so good at communicating with dogs. Plus, I’d not only done a lot of research into Reverse Psychology, but also a lot of research into babies. I slid my arms gently underneath her, making sure I had her head well-supported, because babies’ necks take a while to strengthen up. I rested her carefully over one shoulder. She smelt a little sour-milky and I noticed a wet patch on the sheets where she had been lying.

  ‘It’s a good thing you’re having a bath, Flora,’ I said, on my way out to the kitchen. ‘Can I make you some toast, Steph?’ I asked, handing Flora over. ‘Maybe a cup of tea?’

  ‘Oh dear, she’s wet through,’ said Steph, lying Flora on a towel and peeling off her sleep suit.

  Steph didn’t answer me, so I thought I’d just go ahead and make tea anyway. While Steph was bathing Flora I toasted and buttered some fruit bread too. Soon Flora was all swaddled up in a big fluffy towel.

  ‘If you hold her for me, Sunny, I can get a load of washing on and change our bed.’ She passed Flora over as though Flora was a bag of shopping, and didn’t even notice the toast. Flora looked slightly bewildered.

  ‘It’s okay, Flora, it’s just me again.’

  ‘She’ll be squawking for another feed soon,’ said Steph, turning her back. There was something about the way Steph handled Flora that gave me mild throat ache. It was as if Flora was a big chore, rather than a cherished little person. I don’t know what Steph was expecting when she wanted to have a baby, but she sure made it seem obvious that Flora wasn’t ‘it’.

  I tried to be a big help to Steph as much as I could, but once she and Flora had both fallen asleep on the couch there wasn’t much else I could think of to do. The dishwasher was empty, the kitchen was clean and the washing all done, so I called Dad and he said to leave a note to Steph and catch the bus back to Mum’s before it got too peak-hourish. I slipped quietly out the back door, feeling a whole lot lighter just being out of Dad and Steph’s house.

  Being on the bus made me think of Finn and his stripy scarf again, and how he surely must have finished it because he probably wasn’t allowed to watch TV, and how I didn’t even know if he had brothers and sisters. I thought about Finn the whole way home, which I kind of found disturbing because my brain seemed to be on autopilot. It just seemed to want to wonder about the world of Finn, and notice how I liked all kinds of things about him, like the clothes he wore and how they weren’t the sort of clothes that made him look like he was wearing a uniform like everyone else.

  I could see Willow’s snout squashed under our gate when I walked towards the house. She must have smelt me coming. At l
east I hoped she had, because I sure wouldn’t like to think she’d spent the whole day with her nose squished under the gate like that – it was undignified.

  ‘Willow!’ I said as I opened the gate. ‘Hello, girl. I’m home, and it’s holidays!’ She was crouching down on her back legs like a wind-up toy, ready to spring into action. I could tell she was trying her best not to jump up on me because ever since Mum went feral at her for tearing her favourite silk-velvet stockings, Willow’s been clawing at people’s legs far less. ‘Come on, girl!’ I said, dropping my backpack near the gate. ‘I’ll race you!’

  Willow sprung off like a kangaroo, because if there’s one thing that greyhounds are extra good at, it’s acceleration. She had me outrun in milliseconds, did one super speedy racehorse lap of the house (checking behind her the whole way to make sure I was still in the race), and then broke into the Washing Machine, whirling around and around on the spot, which was a clear indication that her dog-joy levels were so high they literally sent her into a spin. There is nothing that makes Willow happier than when I do the Washing Machine too. I had a quick look around to make sure there was nobody about, because even though They say you should love like you’ve never been hurt before, and dance like nobody is watching, I’m still embarrassed even thinking about the older kids who saw me doing the Washing Machine with Willow at Elwood beach. Especially as I thought I’d made absolutely sure I was alone. Who would have thought to check if there was anyone watching from boats?

  Willow barked at me as if to say, Come on, Sunny, we haven’t done the Washing Machine for ages and what is the point of having all this room and all this green spongy lawn if we can’t do the Washing Machine any old time we like?

  Willow and I were in the full swing (or spin) when the front door opened and Mum appeared on the porch, seeing one of her clients out.

  ‘Oh, Sunday, you’re home,’ Mum said. ‘You look just like a whirling dervish.’ And both she and the client had a little giggle at my expense.

  I gave Mum the eyebrow. Nothing brings the Washing Machine to a clunking halt quite like discovering your mum and some possibly lactose-intolerant client are looking on. Even Willow looked embarrassed and pretended she had suddenly found something fascinating to sniff in the garden.

  Afterwards in the kitchen, Mum handed me a letter while I was gulping down a glass of water. ‘Lovely envelope,’ she said.

  It was from Finn. I could tell by the Steiner rainbow on the back.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ she asked. ‘Might be an invitation.’

  ‘I’ll check it out later,’ I said, remembering my lesson in nonchalance from Reverse Psychology. Let’s face it, the last person you want to have around when opening a letter from an official pre-crush, maybe actual crush, is your mum. I put the letter in the back pocket of my jeans.

  ‘How’s it going with Steph and the baby?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Flora is sooo cute,’ I said. ‘But Steph’s a bit weirded out.’

  ‘Well I hope you’re being helpful when you’re around there,’ she said. ‘And not leaving all your things all over the house.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry, Mum,’ I said. I couldn’t wait any longer to open Finn’s letter. ‘I’m a big help,’ I called over my shoulder as I ran upstairs to the turret.

  ‘Sunny, come back here!’ shouted Mum. ‘I need you to run an errand for me.’

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute!’ I yelled back, knowing I only had a small window before the precookeds got home. I closed the turret door behind me, took the envelope out of my pocket, carefully unstuck the pointy part and unfolded the letter. Finn had drawn colours over the whole page and then written really neatly over the top. So I was super-impressed, even before I’d read what he had to say:

  Dear Sunny Hathaway,

  See, I told you I’d write.

  I was hoping you could help me with my homing pigeon training. You see, it’s time for their first expedition, and if they find their way home I plan to bring back the pigeon post. If it works, I’m going to call it Pmail. Maybe I could bring them over to your place and set them free? Any day is fine. You can write back and tell me when is good

  Your new friend,

  Finn Fletcher Lomax (NFFFL)

  Weird! I thought to myself. But kind of cool. Could he be serious about the pigeon post though?

  ‘Sunday!’ Mum called from downstairs. I put the letter in my bedside drawer and went back down to the kitchen. Mum was looking through a Thai recipe book, which I must say worried me slightly. Last time Mum made a Thai curry she used so much chilli that even Carl couldn’t stomach it. It was around the time when Mum was still acting all girly and Carl was still doing a lot of fake enthusiasm about her cooking.

  ‘I’d like you to run an errand for Settimio. He needs a few things at the chemist.’

  ‘Do I get paid?’ I asked, looking over her shoulder. ‘And why do I have to do it? What about Lyall and Saskia?’

  ‘They can do it next time. Besides, they’re not home yet.’

  ‘So, do I?’ I repeated.

  ‘Do you what?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Get paid?’

  ‘No, Sunny. It’s called helping, and maybe one day, when you’re an old lady, and unfortunate enough to have a broken leg and a broken nose, there might be people around to help you too.’

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ I asked.

  ‘Thai fish cakes,’ Mum said, and she gave me a fifty-dollar note and a list of things to pick up for Settimio. ‘And no junk food, Sunny.’

  I took a deep breath as I approached Settimio’s door. Surely he wouldn’t close it in my face when he knew I had a parcel for him. I could hear him clunking about and there was a warm waft of garlic in the air and the sound of a radio. I knocked gently on the door. The radio faded out as if it had been switched off at the wall, and Settimio appeared in the doorway, leaning on one crutch. Obviously this time he’d been expecting me.

  ‘Come!’ he said, motioning with his head. ‘Inside.’

  The kitchen was hobbit-house small, with a round wooden table in the middle and a real wood stove with a fire inside. Off the kitchen was a door to the sitting room and I could see old Marmalade in there, safely asleep on a chair. I put the chemist parcel on the kitchen table.

  ‘There you go, Settimio,’ I said politely. ‘Do you need help with anything else?’ I was hoping like crazy he’d say no, so I could scoot off as soon as possible, but then I noticed the shoe box on the table. The one I’d seen through the telescope. Sitting on top was a heart-shaped locket on a silver chain. I was overcome with curiosity.

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said, pointing to the locket.

  Settimio looked at me suspiciously before picking it up and opening the tiny heart-shaped frame.

  ‘Your grandmother was good woman,’ he said, like an accusation. ‘It belongs to her; I find it buried in the garden. For many years now I have kept this locket.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘If you found it, why didn’t you give it back to her?’ It was becoming glaringly obvious to me that not only was Settimio a dog-and-child-hater but clearly also a thief. My thoughts were interrupted by Settimio handing me the locket.

  ‘Not lost.’ He scolded. ‘Carmelene, she throw away.’ He flicked the air with one hand as though he was tossing confetti into a gusty wind. ‘When your Grandfather Henry leave.’

  I looked closely at the tiny photograph inside. It was Grandpa Henry all right. I recognised him from other photos I’d seen.

  ‘He brok-ed her heart. She never trust again.’

  ‘I know, double betrayal,’ I said. ‘It’s the worst kind. Mum told me.’

  Settimio took my two hands in his and closed all our hands around the locket.

  ‘You have, Sunday. It is yours. Carmelene would like it to be in this manner.’ He squeezed my hands together for a moment and gave them two solid shakes, as if he was sealing the deal and there were to be no arguments.

  ‘Wow, thanks,’ I said, gently releasing his
grip and wondering why he was suddenly being so nice to me. It was dead confusing I can tell you.

  But one thing I did understand was that Settimio really missed Granny Carmelene, and that he’d known her for a lot longer than I had. I know it seems obvious, but I guess with him being so mean and all, I just hadn’t been able to imagine him and Granny Carmelene being friends. He must have been having mountains of sad thoughts. Mountains. Maybe he needed Bruce and Terry?

  I didn’t tell Mum about the locket. I don’t know why. I put it in my bedside table on top of Finn’s letter. But beforehand, I looked at it more closely. It had a silver engraving of an angel on the outside of the heart. I remembered back to my secret trip to Tasmania with Granny Carmelene, and how she’d held my hand deep down in King Solomon’s Cave. And how I’d seen an angel disappearing up and out of a crack in the ceiling towards the light.

  I turned off my lamp and waited until my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could just make out the outline of the cypress trees by Settimio’s cottage, and for the first time I felt comforted by the idea that he was living down there and wondered if Granny Carmelene had felt the same way. I was thankful that she had had Settimio to watch over her for all those years. And maybe, just maybe, it could be possible that if I liked Granny Carmelene and Granny Carmelene liked me, and Granny Carmelene liked Settimio, and Settimio liked her, then possibly, just possibly, one day Settimio and I might like one another too.

  12.

  I woke up the next morning thinking about Finn, which was slightly disturbing, because usually I woke up and simply thought about breakfast. So even though writing a letter kind of felt like homework, I conjured up my best handwriting and did it anyway.

  Dear NFFFL,

  Thanks for the letter. Luckily I still have some nice writing paper that my Grandmother gave me last Christmas. She’s dead now. That’s why we moved into her old house. Do you have siblings? I have two (precooked) but they’re not here all the time because they are also victims of divorce and live in two houses, like me.