Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  So, come over on Sunday at ten in the morning because I’m going to my Dad’s for a little while now. Things are a bit grim over there but I’m determined to at least cheer Flora up a little.

  Sunny Hathaway

  P.S. I will start again with Harry because not being into it sure makes me feel like a grinch.

  P.P.S If I don’t hear from you I’ll presume you think I’m a freak for suggesting a seance, so, sorry.

  Finally, I was Flora-bound. She was all I could think about on the bus.

  I kind of think I might know how it feels to be a mother because even though Flora is only my half-sister, it feels as if some sort of magnet is pulling me to be with her all the time. Being away from her just feels wrong and that’s the only way I can explain it.

  Living in two houses makes it worse. I mean, Flora’s my half-sister plus I only get to see her half the time. Even I know that only adds up to a quarter, and Maths is my worst subject. I’m planning all the ways I’m going to make it up to her when she gets a little older. I’m definitely going to take her to the Melbourne Show and let her go on all the rides, instead of just looking at the animals like Mum did with me. And I’m definitely going to tell her about the existence of morning television and not keep it a secret like Mum did. Can you believe I only found out there were kids’ shows on the tellie in the mornings when I started school? I should have definitely called the Kids Help Line about that one!

  Auntie Guff’s car was in the driveway when I got to Dad and Steph’s. Dad’s car was there too, which was weird because it was only four in the afternoon. I slipped my key into the lock and opened the door as quietly as I could, in case Flora was sleeping. Guff was in exactly the same position as she had been last time – cooking meals for the freezer.

  ‘Sunny!’ she said, washing her hands.

  ‘Hey, Guff,’ I whispered. ‘What’s cooking this time?’

  ‘Well, it’s one of those daggy old seventies favourites from the Women’s Weekly Cookbook – apricot chicken.’

  ‘Yum,’ I said pulling open the pantry doors. ‘I love a fork dish. Where is everyone? How come Dad’s home already?’

  ‘They had an appointment with the doctor. He’s just outside, darl, hanging a load of washing out. And Steph’s having a bit of a lie-down with the baby.’

  As usual, I thought to myself, when it suddenly occurred to me that maybe it was only when I was around that Steph hid in the bedroom. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me?

  Dad came though the back door with the empty laundry basket. He looked kind of spooked and hollow, as if he might have even forgotten I was coming. I went over and gave him a hug.

  ‘Hi, Dad. What’s up?’

  ‘Make us a pot of tea, would you, Sunny? We need to have a bit of a talk.’

  Dad sat down at the kitchen bench while I got three cups from the cupboard and put the kettle on. Guff gave Dad the eyebrow, as if to say, Do you want some help with this, because we all know having talks is really not your strong point?

  I was starting to think I’d done something wrong, but I honestly couldn’t think of anything. Well, apart from the telescope-stalking of Settimio and switching the dog collars, but as if Dad would know anything about that. In his eyes, I was a model citizen. Still, the very feeling of a big serious talk made me want to take a trip on ThinAir, but ever since the upgrade, even that didn’t seem like an attractive option.

  Dad poured three cups of tea and then cleared his throat.

  ‘I took Steph to the doctor again today. You know how she’s been having a difficult time of it? Well, I’ll get straight to the point, she’s been diagnosed with postnatal depression.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I said, putting some honey in my tea.

  ‘Hopefully it’s a temporary thing,’ added Guff, trying to sound positive.

  ‘But I don’t understand why Steph is even depressed in the first place. She was so excited about having Flora. Shouldn’t it be a happy time, now that she’s actually here?’

  ‘It doesn’t always work that way, I’m afraid,’ said Dad. ‘Steph just feels wretched, and guilty for feeling wretched and for not being able to enjoy Flora like she thought she would.’ He was getting all teary-looking, which must have been contagious because pretty soon I was getting throat ache real bad.

  ‘But what about Flora? Babies pick up on vibes, if you don’t know, Dad.’ I could imagine how bad it might feel to be a tiny baby and for your only mother in your only life to be all bent out of shape because you’d been born. I mean, Willow knows when I’m not happy with her and she’s a dog.

  Then I remembered how in Year Three we had to carry an egg around with us for a whole week so that we could get an idea of how demanding it was to be a parent. Maybe if Steph had done an experiment like that she might have discovered that she just wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Maybe Steph’s egg would have broken like Ruby Cantwell’s, or maybe she might have lost it like Claud almost did. In any case, I was kind of cross with Steph, even though I was meant to be having compassion.

  ‘So that’s why Steph’s been such a grump?’

  ‘Sunday!’ said Dad angrily, and Guff quickly stopped nodding.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, wiping away a tear.

  I buzzed for the hostess and she came in hardly any time at all because up in first class you have a hostess pretty much all to yourself.

  ‘Yes, Sunday, would you like something to eat?’

  ‘I think I’ll go for the signature steak sandwich please. And can I have the relish on the side? I sometimes don’t like chilli.’

  ‘Coming right up Ms Hathaway, it won’t be long at all.’

  ‘Thanks so much, and after that I think I’ll try the raspberry friand, the Gypsy cream biscuits and the chocolate-coated vanilla ice-cream. Oh, and just out of interest, whose signature do you get with the steak sandwich?’

  I was brought back from the clouds by some baby squeaks coming from the bedroom, and Steph opened the door with Flora in her arms.

  ‘I’ve just been having a talk with Sunny,’ said Dad.

  ‘Hi, Sunny,’ said Steph, giving Flora to Dad. ‘Sorry it’s not exactly uplifting over here at the moment.’ Steph flopped onto the couch.

  ‘If you’d prefer I didn’t come over for a while, I under— ’

  ‘No! Please,’ said Steph, ‘that would make me feel like a total failure.’

  Flora’s squeaks were becoming more and more unsettled.

  ‘How about Sunny and I take her for a walk?’ said Guff. ‘Dinner’s cooked. We just need to steam some rice.’

  ‘You’re a doll,’ said Steph. ‘She’s just had a feed and she’s got a clean nappy, so with any luck, she just might drift off to sleep.’

  Guff and I pushed Flora in the pram to Murray Park. I could remember Guff taking me there when I was small and how once I’d cried because my undies had got caught on the slide as I was going down and I got a front-wedgie.

  Flora stayed awake, looking up at the sky, sometimes crinkling her forehead. It reminded me of when she was first born and I’d noticed she had little frown lines. Maybe she’d known her mum was about to catch depression. Why else would a baby look so worried?

  Guff must have read my mind. ‘Steph will be fine, Sunny. It will all be okay.’

  ‘Well, I’m eleven and I feel unwelcome with Dad and Steph, so can you imagine how Flora must feel?’

  ‘No one actually asks to get depressed; give Steph a break. And you’re hardly unwelcome, Sunny. Besides, you and I have to be strong and stick together. Steph will pull through, don’t you worry.’

  I was getting a little tired of adults saying don’t you worry. I mean, there was plenty to worry about. Why couldn’t they see that?

  Guff’s apricot chicken was super-delicious, even if the rest of dinner was full of uncomfortable silences. I could tell that Steph was making an effort, even though she obviously didn’t feel like talking. She must have really been scratching about for something to say beca
use she finally resorted to asking the How’s school? question, which is about as interesting as brussels sprouts?

  ‘Um, it’s school holidays,’ I said, hoping not to make Steph feel bad for being out of touch with reality.

  ‘Oh, it is too,’ she said. ‘I’ve lost all track of time.’

  When Dad came to tuck me in later that night he hit me with another clanger. He had to go away for work for a while. To China.

  ‘Under the circumstances, with Guff going away too, it’s probably best that Steph and Flora go back to Perth where Steph’s family can support her.’

  ‘Perth! That’s practically ten hours away. I’d never get to see Flora! No, Dad! You can’t take Flora away! Especially with Steph not even really liking her.’

  ‘Please don’t say that Steph doesn’t like Flora, Sunny. She loves her. It’s just that she’s under a dark cloud. Steph’s needs have to come first here. Her sister is in Perth, and her parents. She needs family support. It’s really important that you understand, Sunny, and try not to be judgemental

  ‘I’ll try,’ I said reluctantly. It felt easier to be annoyed with Steph than to understand her. ‘How long does postnatal depression last? Is there a cure?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Dad. ‘Each person is different. I guess it’s like getting over a bad case of the flu. There’s the part where you feel you’re coming down with something; the part where it really hits you; the part where you just have to lie down, rest and sweat it out; and then the part where you slowly get stronger.’

  It did help to imagine Steph having come down with something a little like a bad flu, but it didn’t stop me worrying about Flora. She didn’t have any way of trying to understand. Maybe I could invent a cure? Something to speed up Steph’s recovery a little. I mean, look how well grief repellent had been working for me.

  Dad pulled the covers up around my shoulders.

  ‘I really wish you didn’t have to go away, Dad,’ I said as he gave me a goodnight kiss.

  ‘Believe me, Sunny,’ he said. ‘So do I. Couldn’t be worse timing.’

  As I drifted off to sleep I had a crazy idea. Instead of Steph and Flora going to Perth, they could come and stay with us at Windermere while Dad was away. We could make Granny Carmelene’s old room into a type of hospital where Steph could take all the time she needed to recover, and I could make sure Flora was all right because I’d be with her everyday. I wish.

  21.

  Maybe it was because she’s got keen intuition, or maybe it was because I was quieter than usual, but the moment I got home to Windermere, Mum asked me if everything was okay over at Dad and Steph’s.

  ‘Postnatal depression?’ she said, after I told her. ‘Your father hasn’t said a word to me about it.’

  ‘It’s an official diagnosis,’ I said. ‘From the doctor.’

  Mum and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. I was scrubbing potatoes at the sink and could see Carl out in the vegetable garden with a basket full of silverbeet and apples, munching on one he’d picked from Granny Carmelene’s tree. Willow was sniffing along beside him, but she barged ahead when he opened the back door, and suddenly appeared in the kitchen wagging her tail.

  ‘Have a look at these apples,’ said Carl, putting the basket down on the bench near the sink. ‘Completely chemical free; you just can’t get better than that.’

  Mum handed me a peeler. ‘Could you do a few apples too, Sunny, after you’ve peeled the potatoes? We’ll make a crumble for dessert.’

  ‘Where are Lyall and Saskia?’ I asked, hoping I wouldn’t be the only one around to lend a hand.

  ‘They should be here soon,’ said Carl, checking his watch.

  ‘Sunny was just telling me a little bad news, darling,’ Mum said. ‘Apparently Steph’s got PND.’

  ‘And,’ I continued, ‘the worst part is that Dad’s going to China for at least a month, so Steph and Flora might have to go to Perth, and I wouldn’t get to see Flora at all. It’s not fair. Why did Dad and Steph spend months getting me all excited about having a baby sister if they were just going to take her away from me?’

  ‘Sunny,’ said Mum in her stern voice. ‘Try not to see it as all being about you, darling. Steph is in crisis. No one chooses to have postnatal depression.’

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Carl, ‘it’s a direct symptom of the breakdown of the extended family network.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Mum. ‘It’s just not natural to be living in separate little houses with fences all around us. New mothers these days have got it tough. Home all day alone with a baby, completely cut off.’

  ‘Which is why they say it takes a whole village to raise a child,’ said Carl.

  ‘Isn’t Auntie Guff helping out?’ said Mum, chopping the potatoes into wedges.

  ‘Yes, she’s made loads of frozen casseroles, but she’s got a film shoot starting next week in South Africa.’

  ‘I might go call your dad and Steph now,’ said Mum, wiping her hands, ‘and see if there’s anything I can do to help. Where have you kids left the phone? Last time I found it in Lyall’s bed.’

  ‘Want to know what I think?’ said Carl.

  ‘What?’ I said, thinking he was going to launch into a new idea to make silverbeet edible.

  ‘I think your dad and Steph, and Flora of course, should all move in here.’

  I froze mid apple-peel and Mum stopped dead in her tracks.

  ‘It’s not as silly as it sounds,’ Carl continued. ‘We’ve got plenty of room.’

  ‘Yes!’ I squealed in a very Saskia way. I dropped the peeler and without even thinking I found myself running over to Carl and giving him a hug. I almost blurted out something along the lines of, You’re going to be the best official stepfather ever, Carl! Luckily I caught myself just in time. That really would have been a complete Saskia thing to do.

  Mum looked a little flummoxed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s a nice idea, Carl, and it’s fine by me, it really is, but moving in with your husband’s ex-wife and her new family is not exactly everyone’s cup of tea. Steph might want to be around her own family.’

  ‘Can you at least just offer, Mum? Pleeeeeeeeeease?’

  ‘Can’t hurt to ask?’ said Carl, handing Mum the phone, which he’d just found underneath a pile of newspapers.

  By the time Lyall and Saskia got home it was official. Dad, Steph and Flora were coming to stay at Windermere. And when Dad went away, we’d look after Steph and Flora.

  ‘Steph loved the idea,’ said Mum over dinner. ‘Amazing.’

  ‘I knew she didn’t really want to go to Perth,’ I said. ‘She told me once that the whole reason she moved to Melbourne in the first place was to get away from her family.’

  ‘Cool! I love babies,’ said Lyall.

  ‘So do I,’ added Saskia. ‘Yum, these roast potatoes are the best, Alex.’

  ‘Thank you, Saskia,’

  ‘I peeled them,’ I said.

  Carl suddenly stood up and went to the pantry. He came back with five champagne glasses and put them carefully down on the table. Then he took a bottle from the fridge, tore off the wire and foil, and popped the cork. Mum looked all girlie and embarrassed and pretended she had to get something off the bench so that she could turn her back and no one would notice that she’d gone red.

  ‘Well,’ said Carl, filling up the glasses (us kids only got a thimbleful). ‘I think we’ve got a couple of things to celebrate here.’ He held up a glass of champagne for Mum.

  ‘Come over here, love,’ he said. ‘Stand by me.’

  Mum stood sheepishly next to Carl at the head of the table, staring at the bubbles in her champagne.

  ‘Not only is it wonderful that we can offer our support to Steph and Flora, but we’ve also been waiting for the right moment to make a very important announcement,’ said Carl. ‘And we really do hope you’re going to be as happy about it as we are.’

  ‘You’re engaged!’ said Saskia, and Lyall punched her hard on the arm.

&n
bsp; ‘Saskia, shhh,’ Lyall said.

  ‘Ow!’ she cried. ‘It was your idea, Lyall.’

  ‘Lyall’s idea to do what, exactly?’ asked Carl.

  Lyall gave Saskia an evil look. ‘If you say what I think you’re going to say, Saskia, you’ll seriously regret it,’ he said in a muffled voice.

  ‘Will somebody tell us what’s going on, please?’ Mum stared directly at me. ‘Sunny?’

  ‘Don’t look at me, Mum. It’s your announcement.’

  ‘Congratulations!’ cried Saskia, raising her glass. ‘Can I be flower girl?’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Lyall, swigging his champagne before anyone else had even clinked glasses.

  ‘For goodness sake, Lyall,’ scolded Carl. ‘I’m trying to make a toast here. You don’t gulp it down!’

  ‘Sorry, Dad. But, like, I am Australian. Can I have a bit more?’

  ‘Certainly not! You can have water instead.’ Carl filled Lyall’s champagne glass with water, and Mum looked seriously confused.

  ‘Talk about a non-announcement,’ laughed Carl.

  ‘Sunny?’ Mum asked, trying to gauge my reaction, like how I do when I’m trying to read Willow’s mind.

  I went over and gave her a hug. ‘I think it’s great news, Mum.’ I gave Carla quick hug too – the second one of the day. ‘Congratulations, Carl.’

  Then we all chinked our glasses together, and Carl said, ‘To us,’ and we all said, ‘To us.’

  Except for Lyall, who said, ‘It’s not fair that I have to make a toast with water.’

  22.

  I woke up feeling happy and excited but it wasn’t about Mum and Carl getting married. It was more about how there was only one more sleep until Dad, Steph and Flora moved in, which meant I’d be living in just one house for the first time I could remember. Mum wouldn’t get cross with me for leaving my basketball uniform at Dad’s, and Dad wouldn’t get cross with me for leaving my bathers at Mum’s. And I wouldn’t have to clog up my memory with thoughts about what belonged where. Can you imagine what I could do with all that new brain space?