Fortune Cookie

by Cathy Cassidy

  ‘Just your average summer holiday Monday,’ she says with a shrug. ‘Honey’s still in bed, Paddy’s in the chocolate workshop, Coco’s taken Caramel for a beach trek and Charlotte drove into Minehead first thing to drop Summer at dance class. She spent the whole of last week there, helping out at a summer school for the younger kids – she was a kind of student teacher. You’d think she’d have had enough of it, but no, she’s back again, for her senior class. Skye went into town too, to meet Millie and Tia, and Charlotte and I did a big supermarket shop. We got some bits for you, actually.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Just a couple of things that might be useful,’ she says, chucking the carrier bag into my arms. ‘You’re travelling light; we thought that if you were staying a day or so, you might need some more clothes.’

  I look in the bag and bring out two plain brightly coloured T-shirts, a pair of skinny jeans, board shorts, boxers and a pair of flipflops. They are all bargain-basement cheap, but still, I don’t like the idea of Charlotte shelling out her cash for me.

  ‘Aw, no,’ I argue. ‘I don’t need all this. Charlotte didn’t have to do this. I can’t repay her, I’ve only got seven pounds and ninety-two pence to my name!’

  ‘She doesn’t want you to repay her,’ Cherry says. ‘It’s a prezzie – and don’t panic, there was a sale on, so everything was marked down. At least you won’t have to mooch around in Paddy’s pyjama bottoms. Not being funny, but that is not a good look.’

  ‘No?’ I query, tugging at the billowing tartan fabric. ‘I thought they were pretty rad myself, but what do I know? Seriously, thanks for all this. All the right sizes too – how did Charlotte know?’

  ‘She checked your jeans when she washed them,’ Cherry explains. ‘I looked inside your trainers at the beach yesterday, and we just guessed with the T-shirts.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say. ‘How do I thank Charlotte? Pick some flowers or something? Mow the lawn? I’d like to do something useful, show I’m grateful for how you’ve all made me welcome.’

  ‘Well, there are a few things still to do for the Chocolate Festival,’ Cherry tells me. ‘Decorations to sort, food to make, a marquee coming on Thursday that needs all hands on deck to put up, that kind of thing. Dad was talking about making a stage for the musicians, something makeshift under the trees, but I don’t think he’ll have time now. He’ll be in the workshop all week making sure there’s enough stock. It won’t matter about the stage; we didn’t have one last time.’

  ‘I could make one,’ I volunteer. ‘I’m actually OK at woodwork. Design tech is one of my best subjects at school.’

  It’s the only subject I bother to turn up for most of the time, but I don’t tell Cherry that. We walk through the trees together and Cherry shows me where Paddy planned to make his DIY stage.

  ‘Shay will be playing, obviously,’ she tells me. ‘But we’ve invited a few other local acts along too. Having a stage would make it special; give a focal point to the festival. D’you really think you could do something? It doesn’t have to be fancy.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ I tell her. ‘Do you have any stuff I could use? Old packing cases, wood offcuts?’

  ‘There’s a whole storeroom full of pallets and crates and bits of hardboard next to Caramel’s stable,’ Cherry says. ‘You can use any of that. I expect Dad’d be really pleased if you could cobble something together, even if it was pretty basic.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’

  Cherry perches on a tree stump, sipping her orange juice.

  ‘So was that true, what you told me yesterday?’ she asks. ‘About running away?’

  I frown. ‘Might have been.’

  ‘But I don’t get it. Dad said he spoke to your mum.’

  I grin. ‘He didn’t,’ I say. ‘I gave him my mobile number, not Mum’s, and Honey sat out here and took the call. She put on a cheesy cockney accent and your dad totally fell for it.’

  Cherry’s eyes widen. ‘That is so typical of Honey,’ she says. ‘I bet she loved putting one over on Dad. Still, it worked, didn’t it? And nobody knows you’re a runaway except me and Honey. Wow.’

  ‘You can’t tell anybody,’ I say. ‘Promise?’

  She sighs. ‘I won’t give you away, Cookie, I promise. I’m guessing you have your reasons.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Cherry is surprisingly easy to talk to for a stepsister I’ve barely met. Her eyes widen as I describe the restaurant waterfall and the ruined bathroom fenced off with orange plastic tape. Only once does she interrupt, to say, ‘Oh, cool,’ when I mention the bit about Sheddie and living in a yurt.

  ‘Not cool,’ I correct her, and she frowns and nods.

  ‘No, of course not,’ she agrees. ‘Not if that’s not your choice. I’m sorry.’

  So I carry on, explaining how Mr Zhao is closing The Paper Dragon and putting us all out on the street. ‘That’s why she’s decided to move in with Sheddie,’ I explain. ‘She thinks we have no choice!’

  ‘Did you ask her?’ Cherry questions. ‘Are you sure that’s why she wants to move?’

  ‘No, but it has to be that, surely?’ I say. ‘No restaurant, no job, no flat and suddenly this hippy-dippy weirdo comes on the scene. I mean, she never even mentioned him until after the flood. Don’t tell me it’s all a coincidence, Cherry. It can’t be!’

  ‘It does sound worrying,’ Cherry concedes. ‘I can see why you’re concerned but I still don’t get why you’ve run away. Why come here now, just when your family need you most? I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong, but how can that solve anything?’

  I explain my idea of emailing Dad to ask for the money to repair the damage and help set us on an even keel again.

  ‘He owes it to us, really,’ I say. ‘One payment, my mum had from him, just after I was born. Mum says it was all gone by the end of the year. And after that – no maintenance, nothing to help at all.’

  ‘He did the same to Charlotte, I think,’ Cherry says. ‘Dad says Greg promised weekly payments. He was legally obliged to make them, but they hardly ever came through. Charlotte and the girls were living hand-to-mouth when we moved in. The B&B made enough money for them to live on, but there was never anything to spare. Dad and Charlotte got a loan to start the Chocolate Box business and thankfully it’s really taken off.’

  I sigh. ‘Paddy’s OK,’ I say. ‘He’s kind, yeah? My dad, not so much.’

  ‘Have you made contact yet?’

  ‘I’ve emailed but he hasn’t answered,’ I admit. ‘He’s probably checking me out, working out if I am who I say I am. Or maybe he just hopes I’ll go away. I won’t, though. I can’t. I have to hope he has a little bit of goodness in him.’

  ‘It’s not his most obvious quality,’ she says. ‘I suppose he might just have a conscience, though – and he does owe you. Good luck with the plan, Cookie. Just don’t be too upset if it doesn’t work out, OK?’

  ‘It will work out,’ I argue. ‘It has to. You don’t understand, Cherry – I have to put things right!’

  Cherry tilts her head to one side, thoughtful.

  ‘You actually think all of this is your fault, don’t you?’ she asks. ‘You’re taking the blame. And that’s crazy; it was an accident!’

  I shake my head. ‘It was my fault,’ I say. ‘I was left in charge – I messed up. I made the wrong decisions and I’ve wrecked everything, but I am not like my dad, Cherry. I’m not going to walk away from it all, I’m going to face up to it, take responsibility, fix it.’

  ‘That’s really cool,’ she says. ‘I really admire what you’re doing. But I still don’t think any of it was your fault!’

  I shrug a little sadly. ‘I wish you were right, but – well, I know it was. Besides, I think it’s fate the way the rail ticket Honey sent me and the fortune cookie I got from Mr Zhao two years ago just happened to fall off the wall at that particular moment. It had to be a sign, right?’

  Cherry bites her lip.

  ‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘I hope so. So y
our mum doesn’t know where you are at all?’

  ‘It’s fine.’ I shrug. ‘She thinks I’m staying with my mate Harry. My little sister Maisie is covering for me and I’ve gone AWOL before, for a day or two at any rate. She won’t be worried.’

  I cross my fingers as I say it. Hopefully Mum will be so tied up with Sheddie’s visit that my disappearance will take a back seat – for a while, anyway. And by the time she starts asking awkward questions, I should have the cash from Dad and all our troubles will be over. I hope.

  I can see that Cherry is sceptical, though.

  ‘I have to try,’ I tell her. ‘And Dad is my only option. I feel bad for Mr Zhao. I know he’s mad with me – with all of us – but I can’t let him evict us, can I? And I can’t let Mum hook up with this Sheddie person for all the wrong reasons. How would you like to live in a yurt with some creep you’ve never even met before?’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Cherry says staunchly. ‘I can see why you’re upset. I’ll help you if I can, but I really think you should confide in Dad and Charlotte. They’d know what to do. They’d help you, really.’

  I shake my head, vehement.

  ‘Not happening,’ I say firmly. ‘Paddy and Charlotte are great, but I really don’t want to talk to them about this. Besides, adults never actually help on things like this; they wade in and stir things up and everything ends up a million times worse than it was in the first place. They wouldn’t get it. They’d call Mum and she’d go nuts and stop me getting hold of Dad, and we’d be back at square one again. So thanks, but no thanks. I can’t tell them – and nor can you, Cherry, OK? You promised.’

  She nods. ‘I know I did,’ she says, standing up, gathering up the empty glasses. ‘And I keep my promises, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, not even Shay. Look – I also promised Dad I’d help out in the chocolate workshop this afternoon. Give us a shout if you decide to do something about making a stage. Maybe Alfie or Shay or Lawrie would come up and help you.’

  ‘I’ll have a think,’ I say. ‘It might stop me worrying whether my dad’s ever going to reply.’ I force a smile, but my heart is heavy.

  What if I really am kidding myself?

  She grins. ‘It’ll be OK, Cookie. It has to be,’ she says.

  I hope she’s right.

  14

  Once Cherry’s gone, I check my mobile again to see if Dad has replied. He hasn’t, but there’s a text from Maisie asking me to call and another from Mum, telling me she knows I’m taking some time out but that she really hopes I’ll come home soon because everyone is missing me like mad and we are supposed to be moving on Saturday, so vanishing off the face of the earth is not the smartest thing I have ever done.

  Just wait until I return with the cash to sort everything out, to rescue The Paper Dragon and save us from a life of homelessness, or – worse – life with Sheddie. We’ll see then who’s smart.

  I don’t say any of that in the end.

  I’ll come back soon. I text. Once your stupid boyfriend’s gone.

  It’s kind of mean, I know, but I am not in the mood to pretend to be impressed by a dreadlocked t’ai chi teacher. Why are Mum’s choices of boyfriend always so disastrous? I press ‘send’.

  I call Maisie, and she answers on the first ring.

  ‘Hello, Tara!’ she says, practised now at lies and subterfuge and clearly getting away with murder too; the ‘emergency only’ mobile is now clearly being used much more. ‘I was hoping you’d call. Guess what? We’re at the zoo!’

  ‘What?’ I falter. ‘The zoo? What’s going on?’

  ‘Hang on, Tara,’ she says in a too-loud voice. ‘I’m just going to go and sit over by the penguins, because they are my favourite thing. We’re having the best day ever, I swear! I think the others are going to get ice cream; can I have a 99 please? With strawberry sauce?’

  ‘What others?’ I ask. ‘Who are you with?’

  ‘Mum and Isla, of course,’ she reports. ‘And Sheddie. He’s really cool, Cookie. You’d like him!’

  ‘I would not like him!’ I argue, outraged. ‘Maisie, can they hear you? Be careful!’

  ‘They’re getting ice creams,’ she says. ‘It’s a really long queue. Don’t worry!’

  ‘Don’t worry?’ I echo. ‘Of course I’m worried! What happened to the plan to freeze Sheddie out and make him hate you?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Maisie says scornfully. ‘It didn’t work, because he is actually really nice. He asked us what we wanted to do for a special day out, and we said the zoo, and so we’re here! Although he says he doesn’t really believe in zoos, he prefers in-the-field conservation projects. He’s going to help me and Isla sponsor a tiger through some wildlife charity; you get a signed picture and a cuddly toy. Isn’t that cool?’

  ‘He’s the enemy,’ I remind Maisie. ‘Don’t go getting all friendly with him, he wants to take us all to live in some mouldy tent in Milltown, remember?’

  ‘I’ve seen a picture, and it’s not mouldy at all,’ Maisie says. ‘It’s got a woodburning stove and fairy lights and real, proper beds with quilts and Indian rugs on the floor. And it’s only temporary, anyway, while they do the house up. Sheddie explained. It’s not like we thought at all, Cookie; you’d like it!’

  ‘I’d hate it!’ I growl. ‘I can’t believe you’ve fallen for it, Maisie. This wasn’t part of the plan!’

  ‘Things change,’ she says lightly. ‘What are you up to, Cookie?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘I’m helping out with the preparations for a big chocolate festival; you’d love it, Maisie.’

  ‘A chocolate festival? Wow. Anyway, are you coming back soon? We’re packing everything up and we don’t know what to do with your stuff. Mum says if you don’t show up soon, she’ll call Harry’s mum and get Sheddie to drive over there and fetch you.’

  ‘Don’t let her do that,’ I hiss, alarmed. ‘Make up an excuse, anything – just keep her away from Harry or I’m stuffed. I am so, so close to sorting things. I just need another day or so. Stay strong, Maisie!’

  ‘Oh they’re coming back with ice creams, better go,’ my sister says. ‘Bye-eee!’

  The phone goes dead, and so does my heart.

  It looks like I’m on my own with this. There is still no reply from my so-called dad, so I tap out a second email, keeping it short and to the point.

  Hey, Dad,

  I can call you that, right? Mr Tanberry just seems too formal. Hope you’ve had a chance to read my first email. I know it must be a bit of a surprise to hear from me after all this time, but hopefully it’s a good surprise, right? I mean, it’s not like you didn’t know I existed. Hope you find time to email back soon – there’s something I really need to ask you, and it’s kind of urgent.

  Yours faithfully,

  Jake Cooke

  I send the email and stare at the screen for ages, as if sheer willpower and determination might make an answer appear. Nothing happens.

  I can feel the frustration building inside me again, a kind of desperation. I am clearly not cut out for superhero status. Or maybe Cherry is right, and my plan isn’t as foolproof as I imagined. I seriously can’t believe my little sisters have caved in and fallen for that loser Sheddie, just because of a trip to the zoo, an ice cream and the promise of a cuddly toy tiger.

  I can’t afford to stay away much longer; the way they’re going, they’ll be picking out tie-dyed bridesmaids’ dresses by the end of the week. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  I need a distraction, and it may as well be a useful one; I slouch up to the chocolate workshop, stick my head round the door and tell Paddy I’d like to have a go at putting some kind of stage together.

  He takes off his white apron and comes out.

  ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asks me. ‘I’d be very grateful; something simple would be fine, and you can use any of the scrap wood from the storeroom. I can’t spare the time myself, or I’d offer to help,’

  ‘I’m happy working on my own,’ I tell him.

 
; The storeroom is an old stable, which has been stacked high with packing cases, crates and pallets. Sheets of hardboard, plywood and pine planking lean against one wall, and against another there stands a shelf unit holding saws, tools, jars of nails, brushes and half-used pots of paint.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I can definitely put something together with all this!’

  ‘Go for it,’ Paddy says. ‘Don’t use anything you’re not sure about; no power tools, OK? I don’t want your mum chasing me for letting you loose with a chainsaw!’

  ‘I don’t need anything fancy,’ I promise. ‘And I’ll be really careful, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Paddy echoes. ‘I appreciate the help, Cookie. I wanted to do it myself, but I’ve had an idea for a new truffle flavour and that has to come first.’

  He rakes a hand through his hair, looking like a mad professor.

  ‘You’ve got to keep it fresh and original,’ he says with a shrug. ‘Keep those new and unexpected ideas coming. I’ve tried all kinds in the past: curry truffles, marmalade ones, ones with nutmeg and cinnamon and Earl Grey tea. There was even an experiment with peanut butter and home-grown chillis. I’m not saying they were all saleable, or even edible, but coming up with new ideas is half the fun. I think this new one could be a winner.’

  ‘What is it then?’

  ‘Top secret, for now,’ Paddy says. ‘I might let you taste test it later on. The TV crew are going to film the whole product-development process tomorrow, so if that goes OK the chances are it could sell well. People will want to buy the truffle they saw being created on TV.’

  Paddy heads back to the workshop and I make a start on my project, hauling old pallets and crates down to the flat expanse of grass under the trees where Cherry told me the stage was needed. It’s good to have something to do, and a whole afternoon to do it in. I have never made anything on quite such a large scale, but back at the flat I put up shelves and repaired a floorboard and even fixed up a new kitchen counter for Mum, so I am confident I can do this. It’s not just a way to pass the time; it’s a way to thank the Tanberry-Costello family for making me so welcome.