Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  ‘Grazie mille,’ he said, as Mum put his parcel down on the table.

  ‘This is Sunny’s friend Finn,’ Mum said. ‘Finn Fletcher-Lomax. Finn, this is Settimio Costa.’

  Suddenly Mum had become a surname lover too.

  ‘Hello, Mr Costa,’ said Finn, and he shook Settimio’s hand.

  Mum set about unpacking the groceries and Settimio propped himself up against the open door of the fridge, ready to put things away with his spare hand.

  ‘How did he hurt his leg?’ Finn whispered.

  ‘He won’t tell,’ I whispered back. ‘You ask him.’

  ‘Il latte?’ Settimio said, clicking his fingers at me impatiently. ‘Milk,’ he repeated.

  ‘Here it is,’ said Mum, grouping all the things together that needed refrigeration. ‘Lovely sunny day!’ she said. ‘Finn’s been raising pigeons, haven’t you, Finn? Sunny, why don’t you take Finn outside and show him the old chook house. It might be suitable for pigeons don’t you think, Settimio?’

  ‘Pigeons very nice bird,’ Settimio said. ‘You go take a look.’ He nodded sideways at Finn. Then he sighed and sat back down at the table. ‘Coffee?’ he asked Mum. ‘You get coffee?’

  ‘I’d love one,’ said Mum. ‘Thank you Settimio. Why not?’ And just as Finn and I were leaving I noticed Mum take one of Settimio’s books down from the shelf above where he has a whole row of little coloured cups, each hanging on its own hook. The book was called Erbe Medicinali d’Italia, which even I knew was an Italian book about medicinal plants.

  I showed Finn the way to the old chicken coup, which I must say I found a little scary because it was so overrun with long grass and weeds, which could be the perfect hiding place for a tube with fangs, even if it was winter, when snakes are meant to be hibernating.

  ‘Mad,’ said Finn, as we stepped inside the cage. ‘If I can keep half my pigeons here, we really will be able to reinstate the pigeon post.’ He started tugging on some of the weeds in the open air section and made a big pile in one corner.

  ‘I’ll put some straw down and mulch over this whole area,’ he said getting as excited about mulching as Mum and Carl.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, helping to pull weeds. ‘But what did you think about the seance idea, Finn. Will you participate? I’m sure Granny Carmelene’s spirit will talk with us straightaway because she’s still here. I can feel her and I’m sure that’s why she’s been sending me angels. As messengers. To let me know she’s around.’

  ‘Of course I’ll participate, Sunny Hathaway,’ Finn said, taking off his pinstriped jacket. ‘But how exactly do you talk to spirits? I couldn’t find anything in our World Books or the Encyclopaedia Britannica.’

  ‘Oh that part’s easy if you have the internet. Leave it to me. The difficult part will be convincing Lyall and Saskia. You see, Saskia gets easily freaked and Lyall’s a big fat sceptic.’

  Finn used some of the weeds he’d pulled out to sweep out the wooden pigeon holes. ‘I hope you won’t mind helping look after the birds, Sunny Hathaway? And are you sure it’s okay with your Mum?’

  Mum and Settimio were still drinking coffee and looking through Settimio’s book when we trooped back into the kitchen.

  ‘Where I come from,’ said Settimio, stirring two teaspoons of sugar into his coffee, ‘the plant you need for medicine is the one that grows right in front of your nose.’

  ‘Yes, I’m familiar with that philosophy,’ said Mum. ‘Dandelion, for instance; wonderful for the liver, yet most people think it’s a weed.’

  ‘Ah sì, il dente di leone. Is very bitter plant.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful book, Settimio,’ Mum said, closing the cover and brushing the dust off with the back of her hand.

  ‘Sì, it belong to my grandmother,’ said Settimio, throwing back his coffee in one go.

  And then I had one of those lightening-bolt light-globe moments when an idea appears and it’s just the thing you’ve been looking for. If it were true that the very thing we need as medicine was the very thing that grows around us in most abundance, then surely at Windermere that plant would have to be roses. Maybe I could make a batch of rose-petal medicine to cure Steph!

  After Finn cleared the whole pigeon-keeping arrangement with Mum (Settimio also seemed extremely enthusiastic about helping), he set about explaining the whole pigeon-post concept to me.

  ‘I’m going to let three pigeons fly back to my place and leave the other three here. You’ll have to keep them in the enclosure for a good six weeks, because that’s how long it will take for their homing mechanism to readjust,’ he explained.

  ‘Right on,’ I said. ‘Sounds simple enough. Food, water, six weeks …’

  ‘Yeah, then, we’ll swap your three for my three. The ones that have been at my place will always return to me, and the ones that have been here will fly home to you. Then we just need to find a method for attaching messages. Get it?’

  ‘Kind of,’ I said. It all seemed a little complicated, but who was I to argue? I mean if the guy was going to be kind enough to participate in a seance, the least I could do was help him get the pigeon post off the ground.

  Once the enclosure was all set up, Finn chose the three birds that would stay at Windermere and put them out in the coop. Then he let the other three go and flapped his arms around so that they wouldn’t hang about.

  ‘I guess I’d better get going too, Sunny,’ he said, closing the clasps on the empty crate. ‘You going to walk me to the bus stop?’

  I suddenly felt a little awkward because everyone knows that when a boy says Are you going to walk me to the bus stop? that he’s planning on doing something cringeable like try to kiss you. And, well, it’s not that I wasn’t prepared to give kissing a try, it was more that I didn’t really want my first kiss to be a part of some boy’s Are you going to walk me to the bus stop? master plan. Even if it was Finn. I’d be worried about it the whole way, which would spoil everything.

  My plan was that there would be no plan at all, as far as you can plan to not have a plan, if you know what I mean.

  ‘Gee, Finn, ‘I said. ‘I really would like to but I’m kind of grounded.’ And right at that moment Dad’s car pulled up. ‘It’s them! It’s them!’ I shouted, clapping my hands and running as fast as I could to open the front gates so that Dad could drive the car in.

  Finn followed me and I introduced him quickly to Dad and Steph through the car window, before Dad continued up the drive.

  ‘So, next time,’ I said as I closed the gate with Finn on the other side of it, ‘the seance?’

  ‘Sure thing, Sunny Hathaway,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on those birds now, won’t you?’

  I don’t know if it was my imagination, but to me Steph looked better already. Maybe it was just because she’d made an effort to get out of her sloppy tracksuit pants. Dad was busy getting all the baby equipment out of the car and Flora was fast asleep in her capsule thing.

  ‘Come inside, Steph,’ said Mum, putting an arm around her. ‘I’ve got the kettle on.’

  ‘Sunny!’ called Dad. ‘How ’bout you take the portacot upstairs?’ He handed me a rectangular bag with a handle.

  ‘Dad, did you hear Mum and Carl are getting married? We’re having a big feast right here in the spring and I’m going to be a flower girl, and can Flora come, Dad? Pleeease?’

  ‘Let’s just get set up here first, Sunny. One thing at a time.’

  Dad and I lugged everything upstairs (including Flora, still asleep in her capsule), making sure Willow didn’t sneak into anyone’s bag and steal a toothbrush to chew on. When everything was up in Granny Carmelene’s old room I ran down to the kitchen to find Steph, because I wanted to be the one to show her to the guest room

  ‘Tada!’ I said, as I swept open the door. Mum had even lit a scented candle to make it smell nice.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Steph, ‘What a beautiful room. I really don’t feel like I deserve it.’ She looked over to Dad, all tearily.

  ‘You do deserve it
Steph. And you can stay as long as you like,’ I said, wishing like anything that Flora could stay forever.

  25.

  That night I went to bed with an unusual feeling of absolute and undeniable completion. Kind of like how a homing pigeon must feel when it’s been flapping and flapping and finally drops down from the sky when it sees its own rooftop.

  All my family was in the one house. I didn’t have anywhere else that I belonged, or anyone at all that I was missing.

  Except Granny Carmelene, of course. But that would ease up as soon as I’d had the seance and worked out exactly where nowhere was. After that I could even sack Bruce and Terry.

  I drifted to sleep, knowing that Flora was under the same roof, and so was Dad and so was Mum (even if they were divorced). Even knowing Lyall and Saskia and Carl were there was comforting, and that’s saying something.

  I woke up with Willow licking my face – right when I was in the middle of a dream.

  ‘How did you get in?’ I said, turning away and pulling the covers over my face. Willow jumped up on top of me and started digging at the blankets as if she was trying to find a buried bone.

  ‘Off, Willow!’ I squealed, trying to sit up. She leapt down and stood by the door, wagging her tail and smiling.

  ‘Okay, I’m up. Are you happy now?’

  She barked, as if to say, Sure am.

  I looked out the window. There was the thickest fog that made the whole garden look all Peter Rabbity, and I caught a glimpse of Settimio in the orchard, but there was no way I was going to be able to see anything through the telescope because the visibility was so poor. Besides, I knew what he was up to anyway. Mum was taking him to the doctor to get his plaster off. (He hadn’t even told her how come he’d needed it in the first place.)

  I put on my ugg boots and dressing gown and ran down the turret stairs. The door to the guest room was closed tight, which meant Steph and Flora were probably still asleep. I could hear Dad’s voice down in the kitchen. Saskia’s door was closed too, so I gave a gentle knock and poked my head inside.

  ‘Pssst, want to help me make something later?’ She didn’t actually answer but just gave a kind of moan, which I took as a yes.

  Willow was still at the top of the turret stairs and gave a whimper.

  ‘I’m not carrying you, Willow!’ I said, and she must have known I was serious because she trotted straight down onto the landing and then down the next flight too, all by herself.

  Carl was busy tossing something in a frypan, and Mum was at the table with her head buried in the crossword, one hand on a coffee cup and the other clutched around a biro.

  ‘Ah, morning, Sunny,’ said Dad, looking up from the business section of the paper.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ I said. ‘Did Flora sleep okay?’

  ‘She was a little unsettled, but nothing too far out of the ordinary for a baby her age.’

  ‘What’s cooking, Carl?’ I asked, not quite sure if it smelt good or not.

  ‘Not bacon,’ said Carl, ‘with mushrooms.’

  I was a little confused. ‘If it’s not bacon, then what is it?’

  ‘It’s Not Bacon, that’s what it’s called,’ said Carl, showing me the packet. ‘Baconless bacon. It’s made out of bean curd. It’s delicious, Sunny. It tastes just like bacon.’

  Saskia appeared at the kitchen door rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  ‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Yum, bacon.’

  ‘It’s Not Bacon, actually,’ I said, ‘but the good news is it tastes just like bacon.’ I held up the packet.

  ‘So it’s fake bacon? Why don’t they just call it Faken?’ asked Saskia.

  Carl laughed out loud. ‘That’s funny. Why didn’t I think of that? Do you want some Faken, Saskia?’

  ‘Nah, thanks, Dad. I think I’ll have cereal.’

  ‘Well, got to fly,’ said my dad, putting his bowl in the dishwasher. He leant over and gave me a kiss. ‘You help look after Steph now, won’t you, Sunny? I’ve got a bit of running around to do this morning, then I’ll come back and say goodbye and get a cab to the airport.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I was thinking Steph might even like breakfast in bed. It would be like room service.’

  ‘Perhaps not Not Bacon,’ said Dad, winking at Carl before he left.

  ‘Dad, don’t tell me you’re turning vegetarian,’ said Saskia with her mouth full of cereal.

  ‘Okay, I won’t tell you I’m turning vegetarian,’ said Carl. ‘Faken, Alex?’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Mum, looking up from the crossword as if she’d just dropped in from another planet. ‘This DA person is impossible. I’ve only got about three out. What did you say, Carl?’

  ‘Does that mean you are turning vegetarian?’ said Saskia.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Carl.

  ‘Because if we have to go vegetarian, I’m going to go live at Mum’s.’

  Saskia and I made breakfast for Steph and carried it upstairs on a tray. I could hear Flora making gurgling noises, so I knew Steph was awake. Saskia held the breakfast tray while I knocked on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ said Steph softly.

  ‘Room service,’ I said gently opening the door. ‘We brought you some brekkie.’

  ‘You’re a doll, Sunny,’ said Steph. She was propped up in bed breastfeeding Flora, so I put the tray on her bedside dresser and noticed Saskia had slunk back downstairs, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Has your dad already gone?’ she asked.

  ‘A little while ago. But he’s coming back before going to the airport. Didn’t he say goodbye?’

  Steph shook her head. ‘It’s okay,’ she said tearily. ‘He probably thought we were asleep and didn’t want to wake us. I hope all this isn’t putting you off, Sunny – off having babies, I mean,’ said Steph.

  ‘Not at all. Anyway, Steph, you’re really lucky because not only have I seen an angel in this very room, but Saskia and I are going to make you some medicine that I’m practically certain will cure your PND. Want to go for a walk later? I’ll show you and Flora around the garden.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Steph. ‘As long as you’re not in any sort of a hurry.’

  I ran back downstairs to find Saskia. She was in the drawing room arguing with Lyall about who was going to tell the Archers that Banjo should be expelled from Boredom Control.

  ‘You should tell them, Lyall; you’re the boss, and everyone knows that bosses are the ones who do the sacking.’

  ‘She’s got a point, Lyall,’ I said. ‘I mean, you’re not the boss of me, but you are the boss of Boredom Control. It was all your idea.’

  ‘But I’m not the one who wants to sack him,’ said Lyall. ‘You guys do, so it’s your job to tell the Archers.’

  Saskia grumbled and stomped out of the room.

  ‘Hey, Saskia,’ I said following her towards the back door. ‘Do you know what?’

  ‘What?’ said Saskia.

  ‘If we do decide Banjo has to go, we can always just call them up. With any luck we’ll get the answering machine’

  ‘Thanks, Sunny, but maybe we should give Banjo one last chance. I mean, I’m meant to pick him up later today. It’s not really fair to sack him without warning.’

  ‘Come on, help me collect some rose petals then. I’m making a special medicine for Steph.’

  ‘Okay, if you think it will help.’

  Saskia and I got an old ceramic bowl from the pantry and went outside. ‘We have to put some water in the bottom. We’ll use some from the rainwater tank,’ I said.

  ‘How do you know how to make medicine anyway, Sunny?’

  ‘I read about it in one of Mum’s books about flower essences, but I got the idea to use rose petals from Settimio’s book and a conversation he was having with Mum.’

  ‘But what does a flower essence actually do?’

  ‘They’re used for emotional things and they heal with vibration so subtle that you can’t really feel it, but your soul can, if you know what I mean.’ I put a small am
ount of water in the bottom of the bowl.

  ‘Would there be anything a person could take to make them get dyslexia, do you think?’ said Saskia, watching how I carefully pulled a couple of petals from each rose and floated them in the bowl of water.

  ‘I don’t think so, Saskia, but there might be a flower-essence remedy for a person who is obsessed with wanting to be dyslexic when clearly they’re not.’

  ‘Sunny, if you were really serious about being an artist, you’d want dyslexia too.’

  ‘Saskia, you can still be a great artist or a great anything and not be dyslexic. It’s not a prerequisite.’

  ‘Yeah, but if there was something I could take just before Dad gets me tested …’ I mean, I’ve memorised most of the warning signs and symptoms, but it would be great to have some help.’

  ‘Saskia! You can’t fake the test. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing … unfortunately. I’m just so – so – normal. It’s unbearable!’

  ‘Oh no, you’re not,’ I said under my breath.

  And Saskia said, ‘Pardon?’

  And I said, ‘How would you feel about trying to communicate with the spirit of Granny Carmelene. Finn said he’d join in next time he comes over.’

  ‘I hardly even know Finn.’

  ‘You’ll really like him, Saskia. He’s not normal.’ I thought Saskia would be too scared to be a part of a seance, but the idea of it really seemed to cheer her up. For the rest of the petal-collecting time she was quiet and focussed, which is exactly how you’re meant to be while making a flower-essence remedy, according to Mum’s book, kind of like you’re meditating. It’s all about concentrating really hard on how you hope the medicine will work, kind of like the visualisation techniques that Auntie Guff taught me.

  Don’t ask me why, but while I was picking rose petals, I daydreamed about Steph sitting at a long table with Flora asleep in her arms … There is a crisp white tablecloth and posh crystal glasses and loads of friends and family around. Settimio is even there too. And Steph is just like the old Steph, laughing and chatting and making goo-goo eyes over Flora. And then she’s laughing at some kind of joke and I’m thinking that perhaps it’s a joke I told her, and Steph is laughing and laughing, so hard that when Lyall and Saskia ask her what she’s finding so funny, she can’t even answer them because she’s laughing so hard … and that’s where the daydream ends.