Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  I tell you, it was lucky I’d managed to summon Bruce and Terry up to the turret just beforehand, because if I hadn’t just been heavily doused in grief repellent there was no way I could have been in that room at all.

  Even so, when I looked at Granny Carmelene’s big old bed all I could think about was her lying there all alone after writing me that letter, knowing she was about to die and not even being one bit scared about it.

  Which got me thinking again about the topic of somewhere and nowhere and exactly where, where, where a person passes to, when they pass away. Away where?

  ‘Come on, Sunny,’ Mum said, sweeping open the curtains. ‘Let’s make a start.’ She opened one of the windows to let in some fresh air.

  ‘Do you believe in heaven, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, Sunday, let’s try and stay focused. I thought we could start with the dressing room.’ She pulled back the sliding door. ‘It’s like a vintage clothing store in here.’

  ‘Just asking,’ I said, stepping inside.

  Granny Carmelene’s dressing room was long like a corridor, but a lot wider. On one side there were two levels of hanging racks, and the other side was floor-to-ceiling shelves, drawers, and pigeon holes for shoes and bags, which made me think of Finn and whether his pigeons made it home.

  At the far end was a huge mirror all carved and decorated around the edges, which Mum told me was made of Venetian glass. To the right of the mirror was a door to Granny Carmelene’s bathroom, which had a huge French porcelain bath that Carl said none of us were ever allowed to use, because of the water crisis.

  I was flicking through a rack of summer dresses. ‘Mum, I don’t want to get rid of anything, ’cos when I’m older all this stuff might be in fashion again, and even if it isn’t, I’m going to wear it anyway.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Mum. ‘That’s why we’ve got to store it all properly. I’ve got lots of boxes and tissue paper and some special silica packs to absorb any moisture. Oh, and some cedar and lavender balls to stave off the insects. That way you won’t be getting around smelling all mothbally, like an op shop.’

  ‘Ew, I hate that smell,’ I said. ‘Claud’s grandma smells like that.’

  Granny Carmelene had the bestest-ever shoe collection. Practically every single pair still had its own shoebox, and a handbag to match. I picked one up to check the size.

  ‘Forty,’ I said. ‘So that’s about a size nine, isn’t it? What size are you, Mum?’

  ‘I’m an eight. Don’t worry, Sunny, you’ll get no competition from me. They’re all too big. Believe me, I’ve tried.’

  That was a relief, I can tell you, because if there’s one person you don’t want to compete with in a clothing kind of way, it’s your mum. My friend Ruby has that problem. Her mum’s always buying the same clothes as her and dressing like a teenager. Ruby hates it. She just wishes her mum would wear Country Road.

  I stood and stared at the rows and rows of Granny’s shoes, all beautifully made to last for years. And I thought about Crocs, and how shocked and disappointed Granny’s shoes designers would be if they knew that most of the world was wearing buckets on their feet nowadays.

  ‘Can’t we just leave it all stored in here?’ I said. ‘I mean, there’s a perfect place for everything.’

  ‘I know, love,’ she said, taping up the bottom of a storage box. ‘It seems perfect, but it’s best for now to pack her things away. Besides, I’m sure Granny Carmelene would have wanted her things taken care of properly.’

  As mum was speaking, I was looking in the mirror and imagining myself as an older, taller person (shoe size 40, of course), all dressed up in one of Granny Carmelene’s outfits. I was at some sort of important occasion and Willow was with me on a leash that matched my bag. Thank you, it belonged to my Grandmother, I was saying to people who were giving me compliments on my super-stylish outfit. Yes, it is lucky I turned out to be exactly the same size.

  It was precisely at that moment, when Mum had disappeared into the bathroom and I was floating off in my imagination somewhere between the present and the future, that I noticed a flickering up in one corner of Granny Carmelene’s mirror. Just a flicker, and then it was gone, but a flicker clear enough for me to know what it was. The angel. Or should I say my angel, as it (she?) certainly only seemed to be interested in visiting me.

  There was no point telling Mum, because I knew she wouldn’t believe me. Or worse, she’d pretend to believe me because parents are meant to have faith in their own children, but she’d probably also be worried that I might be showing early signs of a mental illness.

  ‘Sunny?’ said Mum, tossing an empty box at my feet. ‘We’d better get on with this, love.’ She was stuffing one of Granny Carmelene’s handbags with tissue paper to help it keep its shape.

  ‘Mum, do you think angels are a way that dead people try to communicate with the people they’ve left behind?

  ‘That sounds like the kind of question you’d be better off asking Auntie Guff.’ She snapped the clasp on the bag closed and wrapped the whole thing up in soft fabric, before placing it carefully in a box.

  Mum and I drifted into silence and packed and sorted all afternoon. We stacked the neatly sealed and labelled boxes on the landing for Carl to put up in the attic. We wiped all the shelves and put new liners in the drawers.

  I had solid proof that Bruce and Terry’s grief repellent only lasted about three hours, because the deep empty drawers of Granny Carmelene’s dresser started reminding me of nothing other than a coffin. It was like a funeral all over again. I could tell Mum was sad too, but she didn’t want to get bogged down it.

  ‘There,’ she said closing the window once more, as if a whole person’s life could end up being explained by just one word.

  There.

  I flicked the light off in the dressing room and Mum and I both stood for a moment by the door, looking over the work we had done to try to make the room forget.

  I thought about Granny Carmelene’s things that I had up in bedside drawer – the locket, the photograph, the letter. And suddenly I wanted to get rid of them. I could throw the locket back into the garden and maybe even burn the photograph and the letter. People do that kind of thing all the time, you know.

  But when I burst into my turret room, who should I find but Bruce and Terry standing by my open bedside drawer, where I also kept my letters from Finn!

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Bruce, ‘we didn’t read anything.’ He handed me Granny Carmelene’s things. ‘You’d be making our lives a little easier if you dealt with these, Sunny.’

  ‘No need to do anything drastic though,’ Terry clarified. ‘Maybe just shut ’em up in a box for a while, if you know what I mean.’ He nodded towards the attic.

  ‘Gotcha,’ I said. ‘Thanks, guys.’

  But before I could thump downstairs to the attic-bound boxes marked miscellaneous, Terry grabbed me by the elbow and said, ‘Wait. All this wondering and worrying you’re doing about your grandmother – have you ever thought of just asking her where she is? I mean, you communicate with us, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, feeling a little confused. ‘But you’re not dead. You’re … well you’re … you’re Bruce and Terry.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Bruce. ‘I’m Bruce and he’s Terry.’

  Terry rolled his eyes. ‘Look, all I’m saying, Sunny Hathaway, is that there might be ways of communicating with them that’s passed. Check with your googliser. It’s as common as mud. Have a seance, Sunny, and put this whole mystery to rest.’

  ‘Top idea, Terry,’ said Bruce. ‘A seance.’

  ‘All in a day’s work, my friend,’ said Terry. All in a day’s work.

  ‘Ah … Terry,’ I said. ‘Can you let go of my elbow now, please. I’ve got to go downstairs.’

  Another letter from Finn was waiting for me on the kitchen table.

  Dear Sunny Hathaway,

  You’ll be happy to know that all six pigeons arrived safely home. One of them was even back before I w
as! Have you tried seeing Pluto through your telescope yet? Maybe we could go to the Planetarium at Scienceworks and I can show you what to look out for. We could take the birds there too, and they could have their first overseas trip. Let me know what you think?

  Your NFFFL

  P.S. I really think you should try again with Harry Potter

  But the fact was, it wasn’t Pluto that really interested me. I mean, why can’t there be a telescope powerful enough to see up to heaven? I’d be down at Scienceworks in a flash. At least then I could sort out whether or not heaven existed and if it did whether Granny Carmelene was up there. At least then I could cross nowhere off the list.

  Maybe Terry was right. Maybe the one person I’d been forgetting to ask about her actual whereabouts was Granny Carmelene herself. It suddenly seemed so obvious.

  I stayed up late that night researching on the internet, and I got to thinking about how Finn’s letter had made me feel abnormal on two counts. One, for being the only person in the world who didn’t like Harry Potter, and two, for being more interested in heaven than in Pluto. Still, I reckoned Finn could be persuaded to be interested in different planets, if you could call heaven a planet. I mean, what else could it be if it was floating up above?

  And the way I saw it, Finn could also be convinced to maybe help me with some other things too, like seeing if you could communicate with the spirit world. If I pitched the idea well enough, spiritualism wasn’t such a giant leap from astronomy. Was it? I mean, even President Lincoln used to get involved in seances, right there in the White House.

  19.

  It was Boredom Control time again and this time we thought we’d start with a treasure hunt. If the dogs were focusing on searching for treats, Sophia might not think about jumping in the river, and Banjo might have something better to do than try to round me up like a wayward cow, and Woolfie wouldn’t dig up Settimio’s roses.

  Lyall had bought a pack of doggie tidbits from the pet shop and was portioning them out to Saskia and I like mixed lollies. Saskia made a trail around the house like in Hansel and Gretel.

  ‘Won’t this just make Sophia even fatter?’ I said.

  ‘Nah,’ replied Lyall. ‘Afterwards we’ll work them out on the dogstacle course.’

  While Lyall and Saskia were hiding the rest of the treats, I set off to Kara Bleakly’s to pick up Sophia. Kara was just leaving the house when I arrived.

  ‘Perfect timing, Sunny,’ she said. ‘Now I can leave without any dog-guilt.’

  I stood in the gateway while Kara clip-clopped out into the street in her high heels. Kara sure did seem to work a lot. Surely it’s not good for a person to live alone and not have enough time to make a new friend or even to walk their dog?

  When I got back to Windermere, Lyall, Saskia, Woolfie and Banjo were already there.

  ‘Where’s Willow,’ I said, handing Sophia’s leash over to Saskia. Woolfie gave Sophia a big lick on the face and Sophia’s tail wagged hard.

  ‘We forgot to let her out of the house,’ said Saskia.

  Lyall was practising getting Banjo to sit on command, which seemed to be working, but I was still a little nervous for my ankles. Just to be safe, I was wearing my gumboots with Explorer socks.

  Finally we were ready to let the dogs go. Sophia immediately found the trail and started systematically gobbling up each treat, but the other dogs couldn’t have cared less. They were too busy chasing each other around the garden and doing giant laps around the house with Willow striding at least ten dog-lengths ahead at all times, smiling from ear to ear.

  ‘This is all wrong!’ I said as Sophia followed her nose around the entire circuit, hoovering up all the treats as she went. She even knocked over the logs and found the treats I’d stashed underneath. ‘Sophia needs to be running, not eating.’

  ‘I’ll see if she’ll run with me,’ said Saskia. Come on Sophia! So-phi-a!’ Saskia took off towards the front of the house, but Sophia ignored her and kept sniffing about to see if there was anything else to eat.

  Willow must have finally had enough of being chased because she sought me out and hid her head between my knees, puffing like anything. Banjo threw himself onto the grass to cool down, and Woolfie ran over to Sophia as if he’d suddenly realised there had been a treasure hunt and he’d missed out. Once Willow was satisfied there would be no more chasing, she too flopped down on the grass.

  ‘It’s no use,’ said Saskia, making her way back. ‘Sophia’s just not the running around type.’

  ‘Why don’t we do a few laps of the house with Sophia on her leash?’ I attached Sophia’s leash and started jogging. ‘Make sure you don’t let Banjo follow!’ I yelled over my shoulder.

  Sophia trotted obediently beside me, and Woolfie did too, nibbling at Sophia’s collar the whole way around. By the time we’d all had a turn Sophia was puffing and panting and I felt satisfied that she’d had some exercise, even if it was just to make up for the treasure hunt. At least we were back to square one.

  Next we threw the ball for the other dogs. We were watching Woolfie, Willow and Banjo, so nobody noticed that Sophia had slunk away until we heard a loud splash from the river. This time, though, Saskia knew it wasn’t a matter of life and death. And when we arrived on the scene, Sophia was happily swimming in circles.

  ‘Maybe Sophia will swim after a stick,’ said Saskia. ‘Then it would be like she was swimming laps.’ She found a straight arm-length stick near the water’s edge and threw it as far as she could out into the river in front of Sophia.

  Sophia did actually bring it back. Every time! which was a huge relief because if Sophia didn’t start to slim down, Kara Bleakly would have no hesitation in giving us the sack.

  For some reason neither Woolfie, Banjo nor Willow wanted to join Sophia in the water, but you could tell they were awfully impressed with the way she swam back with the stick, heaved herself out of the river, shook herself off (still with stick in mouth) and dropped the stick once more at Saskia’s feet.

  ‘You see that, guys?’ Lyall said to Banjo, Woolfie and Willow. ‘Now that’s what you call cooperation.’

  Woolfie’s ears pricked up momentarily as if to say, I’ll show you cooperation, and the very next time Sophia swam the stick back to the river bank, Woolfie leant over and gently took it from her, just like in a baton relay. Sophia turned and swam back out to the middle while Woolfie carried the stick over to Saskia and dropped it at her feet. We all cheered as if it was a trick Woolfie and Sophia had been working on for months.

  ‘Way to go!’ I yelled, still clapping as Saskia threw the stick out into the river again.

  ‘Sophia and Woolfie really like each other,’ said Saskia. ‘It’s a shame they can’t hang out at each other’s places when they’re not at Boredom Control.’

  ‘They could, I guess,’ I said. ‘If Ritchie and Kara knew each other existed.’

  We went silent for a moment, possibly because we had all thought of the same incredibly good idea. If we were cartoon characters we would all have had light globes go on above our heads.

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Lyall. ‘Boredom Control could add a whole new arm to the business: matchmaking. Do we charge extra for that?’

  ‘Yay!’ squealed Saskia. ‘If Kara and Ritchie were friends, Woolfie and Sophia could be friends too!’

  ‘And Kara and Ritchie might fall in love!’ I said, not quite believing the pukie words that were coming out of my own mouth. I was already formulating the perfect plan – a way of Kara and Ritchie meeting where they wouldn’t know they’d been set up. It was a slightly mischievous idea because it involved a little (just a little) meddling into other people’s lives, but surely it was okay if it meant helping other people. Let’s face it, Kara just wasn’t going to find anyone on her own …

  When it was time to drop the dogs home I put my idea into action. We gathered their leashes together, and right before Lyall clipped them on I took Sophia’s and Woolfie’s collars off and swapped them around.

  �
��Brilliant!’ said Saskia. ‘Ritchie and Kara will have to talk to one another to get the right collars back, and their phone numbers are right there on the tags.’

  ‘Nice work, Sunny!’ said Lyall.

  ‘Yes! I love it!’ said Saskia, jumping up and down on the spot.

  ‘But Woolfie’s hair is so long,’ added Lyall. Ritchie might not even notice he’s got the wrong collar.’

  ‘Kara will, believe me,’ I said as we made our way towards the front gate.

  ‘There is one problem though, Sunny,’ said Saskia, as we were walking down our street. ‘A bright green problem in fact.’

  ‘CROCS!’ we all said at once.

  ‘Those tragic green crocs of Ritchie’s could stand in the way of a life of a potential perfect match,’ I said. ‘They could possibly ruin the whole plan!’

  ‘Don’t worry, Sunny,’ said Lyall, with a particularly devilish look on his face. ‘You can leave that part up to me …’

  20.

  On my way over to Dad and Steph’s I posted a letter to Finn because I wanted him to come over again in three days time and you have to really plan ahead with snail mail. At least the pigeon post would be a little more efficient.

  Dear Finn,

  I’m glad the pigeons made it home and their electromagnetic homing devices didn’t get interfered with by mobile phone towers, like you thought they might.

  About Scienceworks – didn’t you get to go with school? I’ve got a better idea. How about you help me try and communicate with the spirit of my recently deceased Grandmother? You know, like have a seance. Then she could tell us where nowhere was, for her. Maybe you have an encyclopaedia or something you could look it up in, under ‘S’ for seance or it might also be under Spiritualism.

  The thing is, I know my grandmother has to be somewhere because I’m fairly convinced she’s been sending angel messengers. So anyway, Finn, I’m thinking we could have a seance. You, me, Saskia and Lyall, the sceptic. I haven’t told them about it yet but by the time you get this letter I probably will have.