Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  ‘Probably,’ said Finn. ‘Don’t you think, Sunny?’ He moved over to where I was standing near the mantelpiece. ‘You okay, Sunny Hathaway?’ he asked, rubbing my back.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, hurrying to put the candle and matches away. I was more than a little annoyed that perhaps Finn didn’t believe we were actually communicating with the spirit of Granny Carmelene. Maybe Finn was a sceptic like Lyall? Maybe after the botched seance, Granny Carmelene wouldn’t want to communicate with us again. If only I’d done it on my own! What if I was stuck with unanswered questions about somewhere, nowhere and angels for the rest of my life?

  Just then, Saskia screamed again, because just as she reached for the door its handle started turning by itself.

  ‘What on earth are you kids up to?’ Steph asked as she opened the door and came in. ‘It sounds like someone’s being murdered in here.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Steph,’ I said. ‘We were just playing a game, Murder in the Dark actually, and well, Saskia got a little freaked. We’ve finished now though haven’t we?’ I put my arm around Saskia for a moment. ‘It’s okay, Saskia, it’s only a silly game.’

  Lyall and Finn both nodded furiously.

  ‘Sorry if we disturbed you, Steph,’ I said. ‘I hope we didn’t wake Flora. Come on, Finn,’ I said. ‘Let’s see what’s happening outside.’

  Lyall and Saskia both took off upstairs. Finn and I, on the other hand, headed straight for the back door.

  ‘Hi, you two!’ said Mum. ‘Feel like helping?’

  Before I could answer, Finn shouted out, ‘Sure Mrs Aberdeen!’

  Willow appeared at top speed when she heard Finn’s voice.

  ‘Hello, girl!’ I said. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘She’s been on the verandah,’ said Mum, pointing to the side of the house. ‘Frantically gnawing on a huge bone.’

  Mum’s words triggered something in my brain. I took off up the back stairs and around to the side verandah, with Willow running right behind me. Sure enough, right outside the dining room windows was a big old doggie bone all chewed on one end. Willow stood over it as though she thought I might take it away from her. Then she squatted down and put a paw on one end of the bone to secure it while she chewed the other. With every move of her head the bone made a knocking sound on the hollow wooden verandah.

  Finn appeared beside me and we both stood silently for a moment watching Willow with her clunky bone.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Sunny Hathaway?’ asked Finn.

  And I said, ‘I really do believe I am, Finn Fletcher-Lomax. It wasn’t the spirit of Granny Carmelene making the knocking sounds; it was Willow. She was right outside the window the whole time.’

  ‘It sure does look that way, Sunny,’ he said, and I could tell he was sensing my disappointment.

  Finn and I decided to dodge the working bee for a bit and go for a walk by the river. We sat at the table under the willow tree, right where Granny Carmelene and I had eaten eclairs.

  ‘You know what, Sunny Hathaway?’ Finn said. And before I could say, ‘What?’ he continued, ‘No one really knows what happens after you die. Our teacher asked our class once and got twenty-four different answers. And do you know what else?’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘They were all right. You don’t need your grandmother to tell you where nowhere is, or whether angels really exist. It’s about having a story for yourself that feels right.’

  That night, Saskia insisted on sleeping in my bed, even though I’d explained about Willow and her bone making the ghost noises.

  ‘Sorry, Sunny. I’d sleep with Lyall, but ever since he turned twelve he kind of smells,’ said Saskia.

  She was standing at my bedroom door in her jarmies hugging her pillow. How could I turn her away?

  ‘It’s okay, Saskia.’ I said. ‘Just as long as you don’t wet the bed.’

  ‘As if! But do you mind if we leave the light on?’ she said, loosening the sheets at the foot of the bed so she could hop in.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Saskia,’ I said, ‘How ’bout we leave the lava lamp on. Then at least I can get some sleep.’

  To keep Saskia’s mind off scary things I started talking about Mum and Carl’s wedding She seemed to be more excited about it than anyone, even Mum and Carl, and we finally worked out how we could both be flower girls. We even worked out a way to make Willow a flower girl too, and maybe even Sophia, if Kara Bleakly said it was all right for her to come.

  ‘It’s almost spring, Sunny, I can feel it in the air,’ said Saskia. ‘I just can’t wait. Then it will be summer and we can jump off the jetty into the river. And then it will be Christmas and then it will be my birthday and then … ’night, Sunny.’

  And then it will be Flora’s birthday and then it will be my birthday too, I thought to myself. And I kept on thinking, just like I always do in bed at night. I had lots of thoughts about Granny Carmelene, and the good news was there was nothing about my thoughts that made me feel sad one bit. It was as if all of a sudden I could remember her without putting all my energy into trying to stop remembering. And I thought about what Finn had said, and tried as hard as I could to imagine what nowhere was like for me. Nowhere was floaty and cloudy, but mostly sunny, and it glowed all purple and warm. Kind of like how my turret room feels with the lava lamp on and I’m all snuggled up in bed.

  Finn was right. No one could tell me that my idea of nowhere was wrong, and I didn’t really need Granny Carmelene to tell me that it was right, either. The main thing was that it suddenly felt okay for Granny Carmelene to be there – all tucked up in nowhere. It made me stop worrying about her being all right.

  I drifted off into the most peaceful slumber. And it felt like the sort of slumber where hours and hours had passed, until …’

  Thud!

  Saskia woke up and screamed when she saw the expression on my face. And I screamed too, just because seeing her so scared and screamy made me scared and screamy too, and it was so dark outside all we could see were the reflections of our own selves in the windows.

  Then there was a thud against the window again, and Saskia dived under the covers and burrowed up to my end of the bed and clung on to me until it hurt.

  ‘Sunny! What is it? Ly-a-all! Daaaaduh!’ she yelled.

  I was all frozen and silent and actually tried to scream for Mum but couldn’t make any noises. The only thing that came was a hopeless squeak. Then there was another thud, an even louder one, and this time a whole pane of glass broke, and without even meaning to I kind of huddled on top of Saskia and pulled the covers over both our bodies, and we screamed and screamed at the top of our voices and this time my scream actually worked so well I’m sure Dad could have heard us all the way over in China. And nothing could stop me screaming because there was actually something in the room! Something thumpy!

  Finally I heard someone running up the stairs and then Carl say, ‘God Almighty!’ and Mum yell, ‘Are they all right? Sunny? Saskia?’

  Then Carl said, ‘Don’t come in, Alex! I’ve got to get it out!’ and Saskia and I screamed some more and I could hear the thumping thing thumping, and then I heard a screech.

  ‘Shh, girls,’ said Carl, and I heard a flap and a thump and a screech, and then I heard Carl saying, ‘Shoo!’ and there was a rush of cold air in the room and then it was silent.

  Saskia was whimpering and clutching onto my arm. Carl gently peeled back the covers and I heard the door handle squeak again as Mum opened it ever so slightly and said, ‘For goodness sake, Carl, what on earth is happening?’

  And he said. ‘Would you believe it was a bat, darl? Flew clean through a pane of glass.’

  30.

  After the bat incident I had to vacate my room on account of it not having its full complement of windows any more.

  ‘You can share my room, Sunny. I really don’t mind,’ said Saskia.

  I thought about it seriously. I mean, for Flora’s sake the more practice I had at being bi
g sister the better, right? And I kind of had always wanted to have one of those rooms with the line down the middle that the other person wasn’t allowed to cross when you had a fight. Especially if I made sure my side of the room was the part that had the door.

  ‘Okay, thanks, Saskia,’ I said. ‘Maybe I will for now.’

  What are you kids going to do about Boredom Control now that school’s gone back?’ Mum asked at breakfast one morning.

  ‘We’re still going to take Woolfie one night a week after school. But since Sophia is having regular play days at his place, neither of them are going to need as much entertaining.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I added, ‘and Kara said she’s going to be working less, and that she and Ritchie are going to try to take both dogs for long walks together.’ I checked my watch. ‘I gotta go, otherwise I’ll miss my bus.’

  The best part about being back at school was knowing I’d see Finn on the bus each morning, which was a whole lot easier than writing letters or (don’t tell Finn) trying to communicate via pigeon.

  The other best bit was that I had solid evidence that Finn was an official boyfriend. It wasn’t anything he said. It was simply due to the fact that I knew he missed two buses after school to make sure he caught the one with me on it. What more proof does a girl need?

  As the weeks whizzed by, we all got totally used to having Steph and Flora in the house. They became part of the family, especially as Dad’s time in China kept being extended. I missed him heaps, but let’s face it, the longer he was away, the longer I’d have Flora around.

  Steph missed Dad too, even though he rang almost every day, but I didn’t think she was looking forward to leaving either. But the weirdest part of all was that, with us kids out of the house all day, Steph and Settimio had kind of become best friends.

  Every day she and Flora would visit him and they’d drink small, thick cups of coffee with oodles and poodles of sugar and Settimio would go all goo-goo over Flora. (I knew because I was still in the habit of sneaking up to my turret room after school and spying through Settimio’s kitchen window with Granny Carmelene’s telescope.)

  Before we knew it, winter had wintered and spring had clearly sprung. All the bony trees were covered once more with leaves, and the garden was coming alive with flowers. Not to mention the vegetables galore!

  It was just days before the wedding, and Mum and Carl were going even more nuts than usual about doing things to the house, including finally getting new glass in my room.

  I was up in the turret because Mum had asked me to vacuum the turret floor one last time after the glass people had fitted the new window. So I had a little bit of a spy on Settimio. I mean, it was really for Steph and Flora’s sake because they were spending so much time over there, and I did promise Dad I’d help take care of them. I pulled the telescope into focus just as Steph was standing up to leave. Settimio gave her a kiss on both cheeks and helped release the brake of Flora’s pram. After she had left, he appeared in the kitchen and started looking along his shelf, as if he was trying to find a particular book. Finally, he pulled one down, dusted it off and flipped to the index. Then he opened out the book and laid it on the table.

  I readjusted my focus to see what the book was. It was in Italian so I couldn’t understand it, but it looked like a recipe book. He was probably using it to make his speciality for Mum and Carl’s wedding like he’d said he would.

  The recipe was headed Torta di Piccione and the rest of the left-hand page was full of words that I couldn’t understand. I shifted my focus to the other side of the double-page spread, which was a picture of a grey speckled bird.

  Torta di Piccione! Suddenly the words made a whole lot more sense.

  Pigeon Pie! Can you believe it? Settimio’s speciality was pigeon pie!

  I ran straight downstairs, hoping to catch Steph as she was coming inside. But she was already in the kitchen with Mum, and Flora was happily breastfeeding away.

  ‘Steph!’ I said. ‘It’s terrible. You have to help!’

  ‘What now, Sunny?’ asked Mum. She was up the ladder in the pantry sorting jars of preserves and relishes.

  ‘Settimio’s planning on making a pigeon pie for the wedding! That’s why he’s been taking such an interest in Finn’s pigeons. So they can fatten up and be eaten!’

  ‘Oh, Sunny, are you sure?’ said Steph. ‘He mentioned he had an old family recipe, but he never mentioned anything about pigeon pie.’

  ‘Where on earth did you get that idea, Sunny?’

  I realised that the only way I could help Finn and his pigeons was to ’fess up about my spying. I had no choice. What if he was planning on killing the pigeons straightaway?

  ‘I know, Mum, because I was playing with Granny Carmelene’s old telescope and I happened to line it up towards Settimio’s kitchen window, and I happened to notice that Settimio had a recipe book on his kitchen table and it happened to be a recipe for pigeon pie. Why else would he be looking at that if he wasn’t planning on making one?’

  Mum stepped down from the bottom rung of the ladder.

  ‘You mean you spied on Settimio? In his own home? Please tell me you didn’t. I’m still getting over the fact that you kids spied on our wedding proposal.’ Mum looked dead angry, and the angrier she got the more it made the two big veins in her neck stand out.

  ‘Please don’t tell Carl, Mum. Besides, Lyall and Saskia aren’t involved.’

  ‘Sunny Hathaway, I just don’t know what to do with you.’

  ‘Can’t you work it out after saving Finn’s pigeons? Settimio will never listen to me. Please, Mum? Steph? Please!’

  ‘Well,’ said Steph, looking to Mum for some sort of approval. ‘If it’s all right with your mum, I could have a talk with him, I guess? I mean, no one wants Finn’s pigeons to end up in a pie, Sunny.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Mum. ‘Poor Finn would be devastated. Especially as he’s invited to the wedding.’

  ‘Alex, I’ll finish feeding Flora, then maybe you could watch her for me while Sunny and I go and set things straight.’

  It was right at that moment that Carl got home with Lyall and Saskia. I could hear them squabbling about who was going to be sitting next to who at the wedding table.

  ‘Do we have to invite Uncle Lawrence, Dad?’ Lyall said. ‘He always gets drunk and falls asleep.’

  ‘Yes, we do have to invite Uncle Lawrence, Lyall,’ Carl said. ‘He’s my brother, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Saskia. ‘If brothers weren’t compulsory, Lyall, I could get out of having you …’ Ouchhh!’ she said as Lyall punched her in the arm.

  Mum lowered her voice so that only I could hear her. ‘I’ll deal with you later, Sunny,’ she said. ‘Just let me get through this wedding first.’

  Steph and I went down to Settimio’s right after she’d finished feeding Flora and had given the little sleeping bundle over to Mum.

  ‘Try to be sensitive, Sunny,’ Mum said. ‘It’s just a very big misunderstanding.’

  Settimio’s front door was open and Steph called out, ‘Knock knock! It’s just me, Settimio.’

  ‘Ah, Stephanie. You are already back? Come inside. Oh, and Sunday too, come in. You forget something?’

  He still had the cookbook open and was halfway through writing a shopping list. ‘For my speciality,’ he said, Torta di Piccione.

  ‘Pigeon pie?’ I asked.

  ‘Si, they are ready now. Tomorrow …’ And he made a cutting action across his throat to show exactly what he had in mind for Finn’s pigeons.

  ‘No, Settimio!’ I shrieked. ‘Those pigeons belong to Finn. They are not for making pie.’

  ‘But Finn, he leave them here for me to make ready, for the eating.’

  ‘Settimio,’ Steph said patiently. ‘There seems to be a small misunderstanding. They’re homing pigeons. Sunny and Finn are in the middle of training them to become messenger birds. They’re not for eating.’

  Settimio looked confused. ‘But the childre
n ask me to feed them, and they visit me and I tell them they are not ready, but that soon they will be ready – for the wedding.’

  ‘I thought you meant ready for the wedding, like love doves, Settimio. You know how people release them at some celebrations? That’s what I thought you meant when you said they’d be ready for the wedding. See?’

  ‘But these are not doves. These are pigeons. Pigeons are for eating. For many generations this recipe has been in my family.’

  ‘No no no!’ I wailed. ‘You just can’t eat Finn’s pigeons, Settimio.

  ‘But the Torta di Piccione. This is my speciality.’

  ‘No no no, Settimio. You can use chicken, duck, turkey, quail. I don’t even care if you use a magpie – anything. But you can’t make a pie out of Finn’s pigeons. It just won’t do. Finn raised them from hatchlings. Understand? They’re Finn’s babies, Settimio.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said disappointedly. ‘But still I don’t know for why you need these pigeons to be messengers. Why not your friend Finn just use a telephone, uh?’

  31.

  Finally, it was the night before the wedding. Saskia and I were in her room where she was parading her outfit for possibly the twenty-seventh time.

  ‘And I thought I’d wear these too,’ she said, holding up a pair of dangly earrings. ‘Or will they clash with my shoes? What do you think, Sunny?

  ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ I said. ‘I have to go up to the attic and get something.’

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Saskia said. ‘Who knows what sort of monster wildlife might be lurking up there.’

  Carl had left the ladder to the attic down and I climbed towards the darkness, before finding the light switch. I found the box labelled miscellaneous. And as I was feeling about for the things I’d hidden inside it I realised that thinking about Granny Carmelene didn’t make me feel sad any more, not one little bit. It occurred to me that I hadn’t needed Bruce and Terry in weeks, not since I’d made nowhere into a kind of somewhere (and not the type of somewhere I needed proof of).