Sunny Days and Moon Cakes

by Sarah Webb

  “Blow the candles out, Sunny,” Mum says.

  I’m not sure I’ll have enough breath. And besides, I hate opening my mouth when there are strangers around.

  “Will I help you?” Min whispers.

  I give her a tiny nod. Together we take a deep breath. I try to pretend I’m at home, doing my milkshake breathing, and – whoosh – they’re out.

  “Now close your eyes and make a wish, Sunny,” Alanna says.

  I wish I could thank everyone for my presents, I think, my eyes squeezed shut. I wish I had a voice.

  I open my eyes, and before I know what’s happening they start to fill with tears. I look over at Min for help and she says something in Mum’s ear.

  “I’m afraid we have to go,” Mum tells everyone. “Sunny’s dad is cooking a special birthday dinner and I promised we’d be back to help him.”

  “But I can stay, can’t I, Mum?” Min says.

  “If that’s OK with Sunny.” Mum looks at me.

  I shrug and then nod. I know it’s supposed to be my birthday party, but Min will keep everyone entertained. She’s the fun one, not me.

  “Hang on for a second, Sunny,” Alanna says. “I have something for you. Over here.” I follow her towards the cash desk, where she reaches into a drawer and then hands me a package. Inside is a beautiful red-leather-bound sketchbook with a pocket in the back.

  I give her a big smile.

  “I’m glad you like it,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re a teenager now. I hope the year is good to you. You deserve the sun, the moon and the stars, my little nightingale.” She hugs me. She smells sweet – of wild flowers and baking.

  I hug her back. I want to stay, chatting and laughing and having fun with my friends and eating all the goodies. But it doesn’t matter how much I want to do all that, I can’t. Not even on my birthday.

  Chapter 3

  “Did you miss me, Sunny?”

  I look up from my desk. Min is standing in the doorway to my room with one hand on her hip. She looks like she’s about to sing “I’m a Little Teapot” and it makes me smile.

  “What are you laughing at?” she asks.

  “Nothing.”

  She comes inside and closes the door carefully behind her. Then she walks towards me and rests her bum against the edge of my desk. “Can I ask you something? Why can’t you talk outside the house? I know Mum and Dad have tried explaining it to me, but I still don’t really understand. And you never want to talk about it. I didn’t care that much before, but a girl at school was asking me why you’re always quiet and I didn’t know what to say. Dad said it’s none of her business and Mum said to tell her that you’re shy and don’t like strangers. Will you tell me about it? Just this once?”

  I put down my pencil and close the sketchbook Alanna gave me. Min’s always trying to spy on my drawings. “I don’t like talking about it because I don’t know the answer,” I say. “It annoys me too. I’d speak if I could. I just can’t, OK?” I start to chew my lip. I hate talking about this.

  “Is that why Mum and Dad said I wasn’t to ask you? Cos you get all upset? You won’t tell on me, will you?”

  “I’m not going to tell on you. And I’m not upset. Look, it’s complicated.”

  “Make it uncomplicated then.”

  I know I’m not going to get rid of her without answering her question, and she does deserve an explanation. It can’t be easy having me as a sister. I try to think how I can explain it to her. Then I get an idea. “OK, what would happen if Mum and Dad said you had to sleep in your own bedroom?” I ask.

  Min shifts around a little. “Alone, you mean?”

  “Yes.” Every night after Mum and Dad say good night to her, Min sneaks into my bed. She sleeps there all night. Mum and Dad have tried getting her to stay in her own room, but she won’t.

  She pouts. “I wouldn’t like it.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Min, that was last year. There are no spiders—”

  She clamps her hands over her ears. “Don’t say the S word.”

  “Sorry. The S thing was a one-off. A weird, crazy, freaky thing that will never happen again.” Poor Min. She was lying in bed one night when hundreds of tiny baby spiders came parachuting down on silky threads and landed on her bed. Their mother had attached a large egg sack to the light fitting and they’d hatched. I’ve never heard anyone scream so loudly. She’s refused to sleep in her room ever since.

  “How do you know that?” she asks.

  “I just do. You hate the S word, right?”

  “Yes!” She nods firmly. “They’re evil.”

  “And they make you feel scared and nervous even though you know they’re tiny and can’t hurt you.”

  “They’re disgusting. Stop talking about them.” She shudders.

  “The way you’re feeling now, that’s how I feel when I think about having to talk in front of strangers.” Even using the words “strangers” and “talk” in the same sentence is making my heart race.

  Min thinks about this for a second. “So it’s like a phobia?”

  “I guess.”

  “Can I tell people you have a talking phobia? Like I have an S-word phobia?”

  “OK.” It’s not a great explanation, but it’s better than nothing. “And it’s called arachnophobia – the fear of the eight-legged insects that shall not be named.”

  She pulls a that’s nasty face and then says, “Can I ask you one more thing? Is that why you’re scared of going to China? Because of all the strangers?”

  “How do you know I’m scared?”

  “I saw your face when you opened that envelope with the plane tickets inside. There are a whole lot of people in China, aren’t there?”

  I shrug. “That’s part of it. But also it makes me sad to think about Mama and Papa and everything. I know this is our home now, but I miss them sometimes. Don’t you?”

  She thinks for a second, then says, “Not really. I remember Papa a bit, but not Mama. He was bald, wasn’t he? He used to let me rub his head.”

  I smile. “That’s right.”

  “Is it like the way I miss Woody? How you feel, I mean?” Woody was our dog before Goldie, our yellow Labrador. He was run over by a tractor two years ago and Min was really upset about it.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  She nods her head solemnly. “I get it. I’m sorry you feel sad, Sunny. Especially on your birthday.” She puts her arms around me and squeezes me tight. “But you’ve always got me.”

  She’s so sweet; my eyes tear up again.

  Later, when Min’s out walking Goldie with Mum, I sit at my desk and stare at the large white envelope holding the plane tickets for China. As soon as I opened the envelope this morning, I started to get that fluttery-scared feeling in my stomach and I could feel my eyes blinking fast.

  “Are you all right, Sunny?” Dad asked. He’d noticed that I’d gone all quiet.

  “I’m just excited,” I said. “Thanks – it’s a brilliant present.”

  “Do they have a Disney World in China?” Min jumped in. “Can we go?”

  Mum laughed. “Min, we can go to Disney World anytime.”

  Dad nodded. “Your mum’s right, Minnie Mouse. We’ll be far too busy to bother with a theme park.”

  Min looked disappointed for a moment, but she bounced back quickly and started asking lots of questions about what we would do in China.

  Mum told her to be quiet. She had a worried look on her face. “Sunny, we don’t have to go on the trip if you don’t want to,” she said.

  Before I got the chance to answer, Min said, “What? Of course we’re going. It’s gonna be amazing. Do you think everyone will look like us? Imagine if someone recognized us in the street or something. One of our old neighbours.”

  Mum laughed. “It’s a huge place, not like Little Bird. That’s unlikely to happen, Min. Now, shush! Let Sunny speak.”

  Mum and Dad were both looking at me, their eyes ful
l of hope and expectation.

  “Sunny?” Dad said. “What do you think? Are you excited? We can just go to Hong Kong if you like. We don’t have to visit your old home in Shenzhen or the orphanage. Or if you are really unhappy about going, we can stay at home. The tickets are refundable, so there’s no pressure on you.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Min’s right. It’ll be amazing. I can’t wait.”

  You see, even though I’m scared, I do want to go to China, and not just because my family are so excited about the trip. I need to see if my vivid dreams of twisted trees and silky grey cats are real or just my imagination. And I’d like to show Min the park where we once played, if we can find it, and my old school. Maybe Min will start remembering things about China when we get there. It would be nice to have some memories in common.

  But also, deep down, I’m hoping that something magical will happen in China. That somehow the trip will help me to stop worrying all the time. Then, when I come home to Little Bird, I’ll be able to talk freely. I’ll be me – happy, chatty Soon Yi – again.

  Chapter 4

  Before dinner, I hear muffled voices coming from the floor below. After putting down my sketchbook, I jump off the window seat in the living room and carefully peel back the edge of the rug so I can peer through a crack in the old floorboards. The gap is so large that I can actually see Mum and Dad in the kitchen, standing in front of the Aga. Dad has his arm around Mum’s shoulders. Dad’s tall and Mum slots perfectly under his arm. They fit together like two pieces of Lego.

  I know I shouldn’t spy on them, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been doing it for years.

  As I watch, Mum rests her head on Dad’s shoulder. She sighs. “I’m just so worried about her.”

  “Don’t be,” he says. “She’ll be OK.”

  Mum lifts her head. “No, she won’t. Don’t you see? She’s thirteen. If she was going to grow out of her condition, it would have happened by now. She’s getting worse, not better. I feel so sorry for her. Imagine not being able to speak at your own birthday party!”

  “I know it’s a long shot,” Dad says, “but maybe this new woman will have some answers about Sunny’s condition. She seems pretty sensible and she’s got to be more use than Doctor Hogan.” Dad gives a sniff. I don’t think he likes Doctor Hogan very much. “Have you told Sunny about her yet?”

  No, I think, she hasn’t. I bet “this new woman” is a new therapist. I pull a face as Mum says, “Not yet, but I will. Oh, Smiles, do you think she’ll be able to help Sunny? What kind of life will she have if she can’t speak to anyone? She’ll never go to college or have a boyfriend or anything like that, or even get a job. It’s so unfair. I just want her to be happy.”

  “I know, Nadia. Me too.”

  “I feel so helpless.” Mum starts crying and Dad holds her tight. I know he is upset too, though, and cross. He always wants to fix everything, to be in control. But there are some things that he can’t fix. Like me. Mum’s really upset and it’s all my fault.

  “Let’s see how things go with this new specialist, love,” Dad says when Mum’s stopped crying. “But we may have to accept that Sunny’s life will always be a bit different. And it could be worse – at least she’s healthy. She has good friends in Mollie and Alanna, and she and Min adore each other. Would a quiet life on the island be so bad?”

  “I suppose not,” Mum says, her voice still a bit hiccupy from crying. “I’m sorry. It’s just I love her so much. I want her to go to college, see the world, be happy…”

  Dad strokes her hair. “I know you do, love. Me too. More than anything. But we need to take things day by day and try not to stress about the future. Once upon a time we thought we’d never have a family. And now we’re blessed with two beautiful daughters.”

  “You’re right.” Mum wipes away the last of her tears. “We are lucky. I’m being silly. Do you remember the first time we saw them? Min was tiny and she was holding Sunny’s hand so tightly I thought she’d break it. Neither of them had a word of English.”

  “And their faces when they saw the castle for the first time and realized this was their home!” Dad said.

  “I wish we’d filmed it. They looked so surprised and so happy. It made my heart sing. Our own little family.” Mum smiles.

  “Let’s not talk about this any more. Not tonight. I think I can hear—”

  At that very moment Min bursts through the kitchen door, with Goldie trotting behind her. “Is dinner ready?” she asks. “I’m starving.”

  “Min Sullivan, don’t be so rude,” Dad says. “Come here to me, Minnie Mouse.” As Mum turns away to dab her face with a tea towel – not that Min has noticed her wet cheeks or red eyes – Dad picks Min up and throws her in the air.

  I shift the rug back over the crack in the floor, then creep over to the window seat and flop down, my thoughts racing. I wish I didn’t put my parents through so much.

  Chapter 5

  On Saturday morning, we’re sitting at the table having our breakfast when Goldie pads into the kitchen with a dead mouse in his mouth.

  “Yuck, Goldie,” Min says. “Dad, he’s got a mouse again.”

  Mum gives an ear-splitting shriek and jumps onto the table, waving her hands in front of her face. “Get it out of here!” she screams. “Now!”

  Dad laughs. “It’s dead, Nadia. It’s not going to hurt you.”

  “You know I hate those things,” Mum says. “I’m not coming down until it’s outside and Goldie’s been washed.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, Nadia,” Dad says, but he drags Goldie out by the collar. After a few minutes, once Mum’s absolutely sure Goldie’s outside and being cleaned with the hose, she climbs off the table and sits down. But she lifts her feet off the floor and tucks them under her bum.

  “What’s a mouse phobia called, Mum?” Min asks.

  “I don’t know – why?”

  “No reason.” Min gives me a knowing look. “Does Dad have a phobia?” she asks. While she’s talking, I power up my laptop, which was at the far end of the table.

  “No,” Mum says. “Although he thinks raisins are the devil’s food. He won’t eat anything with raisins in. And he hates cooked mushrooms and anything slimy. But they’re not phobias exactly.”

  “I have arach—” Min breaks off and looks at me. “What’s it called again, Sunny?”

  “Arachnophobia. And Mum’s is musophobia,” I say, reading off my computer screen.

  “Everyone’s scared of something,” Mum says. I know she’s thinking about me and my “phobia”. But she doesn’t mention it. I actually did a search for that one too – glossophobia – fear of speaking.

  “We have a visitor coming on Monday, Sunny,” she says, breaking into my thoughts. “Rosie Lee. She’s a speech therapist.”

  I pull a face. So that’s the “new woman” they were talking about the other night. I wondered when they’d get round to telling me about her.

  “I’ve talked to Rosie on the phone and she sounds really nice,” Mum says brightly. “I hope you’ll give her a chance.”

  I try to say “Yes”, but I can’t. Just thinking about this stranger makes my throat go tight. So I nod instead. I’m ridiculous. Sunny Sullivan, the thirteen-year-old nodding freak.

  On Monday morning, after she’s walked Min to school with Goldie, Mum comes home with Rosie Lee. Mum and I talked about Rosie’s visit more last night. Mum said she would be coming over on the morning ferry and would spend the day with us. I peer through one of the long arrow-slit windows in the living room and watch as Mum opens the front door and steps back to allow the woman in.

  Rosie Lee doesn’t look like the other doctors and psychologists I’ve met. She’s younger, for a start, and she’s wearing a long stripy scarf that looks like she knitted it herself, with a denim jacket and red jeans. Most of my other doctors have worn suits. She has curly blonde hair down to her shoulders. I only have a few moments before Mum will call me down to meet her, so I back away from t
he window and take some deep breaths until I hear Mum’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “Sunny,” she says, coming into the room, “Rosie is here. She’s in the kitchen. I thought we could make some fairy cakes together. Would you like that?”

  I shrug. I’m too nervous to speak. But Mum understands. “Rosie’s worked with lots of children with your condition,” she says.

  “She won’t think I’m weird, like Doctor Hogan does?” I whisper.

  Mum colours a little. “Doctor Hogan never said that.”

  “He said what I have is really rare.”

  “Well, it might seem rare to Doctor Hogan, but Rosie’s different. This is her special area, and she really wants to help you.”

  “OK. I’ll come and meet her.”

  I follow Mum silently down the stairs and into the kitchen. My heart is pounding and my palms are sticky. Rosie is sitting at the kitchen table and she smiles at me. I stare down at the floor.

  “You must be Sunny,” she says. “I’m Rosie.”

  “Would you like some tea, Rosie?” Mum asks. “Or coffee? And then I thought we’d make some fairy cakes together. Sunny’s great at baking. She helps in the kitchen at the Songbird Cafe.”

  “I’d love a cup of tea, please,” Rosie says. “And fairy cakes sound delicious. Is that the cafe down by the harbour? It looks lovely.” She has a nice voice, low and calm.

  “That’s right,” Mum says. “Sunny, while I’m making the tea, Rosie’s going to talk to you for a few minutes. Maybe you could sit next to her?”

  I nod and lift my gaze. Rosie is smiling at me. She has a really open, friendly face, with freckles across her nose. After taking a few deep breaths, I sit down beside her.