‘Who’s there?’
‘Breast.’
‘Breast who?’
‘Breast open up and let me in!’
Samantha rolls her eyes and turns to Mum. ‘Do mammograms hurt, Mum?’
‘Sometimes it can be a bit sore when the radiographer squashes your breast with a glass plate to get ready for the photos, but it’s OK.’
‘Mum, I really, really don’t want to know about this.’
‘But you want to be a scientist one day. You should want to understand and Samantha needs to know her body. Hormones can cause lumps every month.’ Mum winks at Samantha. ‘Even boys can get lumps.’
‘I know that, Mum.’ I didn’t really know before.
Samantha sticks her tongue out at me. I pretend to catch it just as the nurse calls Mum’s name. Mum insists that we go with her. We turn to Nanna, but she’s fallen asleep in the chair. ‘She’ll be right,’ Mum says. We follow her and she follows the nurse, who follows the signs down a corridor with a grey vinyl floor. Mum disappears into the dressing room, then jumps out in a white sack. She swirls around. ‘I look like a model, don’t I?’
‘No, Mum.’
Mum gives me her necklace to mind. ‘Can’t wear any jewellery for the mammogram. Otherwise it’ll be a picture of my necklace, not my breast.’
As we tag along into the X-ray room, the radiographer tells us to wait outside. Mum’s determined that we see what’s in the room and what happens. The radiographer is nice and lets us go inside and see. She explains how the large metal X-ray machine works. ‘A plate of glass will come down. It’ll press against your mum’s breast, flattening it. Then the machine takes pictures.’
Mum smiles at the radiographer. ‘Thank you. Now, kids, you’ll have to go back out to Nanna. No one’s allowed in here because X-rays send out radiation. Got to get ready to take the pictures now.’
Nanna wakes up just as we arrive back in the waiting room. She holds up a pack of UNO when she sees us. ‘Now who’s feeling lucky?’ Nanna loves card games.
Mum’s dressed and happy that she’s had her mammogram. ‘That’s off my list now. Nanna’s results are next.’ We pile into the doctor’s surgery. Goods news. Nanna only has to take tablets to help her spine become stronger and exercise with her walking stick. ‘You will use your stick, won’t you?’ Mum begs Nanna as we leave the surgery. Nanna pretends that she will, except we all know that she won’t. But I have a plan.
Lunch at the beach is good. Finding the right wedding invitation is bad. I can’t stand one more shop and I’m still hungry. ‘Do you like these invitations, Jack? Will Rob like them? This picture of a fancy wedding is too much, don’t you think?’
I don’t care. I don’t care. ‘The cards are great. Rob will like them. Anna will like them. Spot will like them. Floppy will like them. Everyone will like them.’ So far, every invitation has been too boring or too traditional or not right and Nanna’s tired and I’m bored and Samantha’s whining. Then Mum sees a card with rainbow dream-catchers and sparkles. They’re not wedding invitations. Mum twiddles her fluffy hair into a ringlet. She’s thinking, but it’s Nanna who says, ‘It’s your wedding. Get them if that’s what makes you happy.’
Samantha loves the sparkles. I love the fact Mum loves it. ‘Why not, Mum? It’s your wedding. Just buy them.’
‘Jack, you’re right.’ The relief of making a decision is major. Mum does two star jumps. Samantha copies her. I pound the air with my fists. Nanna’s taken a cookie from her bag and has a big bite. Dream-catcher wedding invitations win.
Home at last. I print out the details of the wedding on my computer — date, time, dress, address. The invitations read that Mum, Rob, Nanna, Jack, Samantha and Leo ‘are proud to invite you to celebrate the marriage at Sea Breeze’. Samantha sticks the details inside the cards. Mum writes the names. Nanna puts them in the envelopes. Mum wants a family photo included with the invitations. She’s going to get them printed. By the way, the family photo includes Leo. We’re a brilliant production team, until Nanna trips on Puss. Puss squeals. Nanna squeals, but she doesn’t fall over and break her leg. So it’s all good.
After Nanna goes to her room for a rest before dinner, Mum gives us a guilt trip. ‘When I’m not here, you have to make sure that Nanna doesn’t forget her walking stick.’ No one can make Nanna think she’s old: that’s why she won’t use the stick. But like I said I already have a plan. A brilliant plan. I tell Mum. She thinks I’m a genius. It’ll be a surprise for Nanna.
For the next two nights Samantha and I work secretly on my plan. Photos of Puss, Samantha, Mum, Rob, Grandad, Anna, the Napolis and everyone are on the floor. Samantha and I choose the best ones and arrange them into four small collages. Mum laminates them at the library. With hard-sticking wood glue, I carefully stick the collages along the stick. Nanna’s that excited when we give her the walking stick that she sucks her teeth in so hard she starts choking.
Success. Nanna’s family-photo walking stick is the talk of her bridge club. Now, Nanna loves using her stick. Won’t go anywhere without her stick. Call me Smart Jack.
Samantha gets an A plus for her show-and-tell mouse-house. She did help. Lucky the teacher didn’t hear all the mice POO jokes in the playground, otherwise Samantha would have got a D.
What’s red, small and brown? Sunburnt POO.
What’s brown and lights up? An electric POO.
What are the best steps to take when you meet an escaped lion with diarrhoea? Long ones.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Mice go.
Mice go who?
Mice go POO, not who.
Spot, Frank and my rat Hector are getting so round now that their stomachs drag along the floor. ‘Nanna, you have to stop giving them sweet treats.’ She chuckles. ‘It’s serious, Nanna.’ Nanna’s green eyes get greener. I just know what she’s thinking. Rolly-polly Nanna, rolly-polly Spot, rolly-polly Frank and rolly-polly Hector need little treats. I start laughing. At least they’ll die ecstatic.
‘I’m working on our school project this afternoon at Christopher’s. I’ll bring you some cookies from the bakery, Nanna.’ I shout ‘bye’ as I grab the book Mum borrowed on the Vietnam War. We’re working on Christopher’s part of the project.
Christopher lives on top of their bakery. Bread smells nearly knock me over as I walk inside. My mouth is watering and Christopher’s mother hands me a sweet raisin roll. ‘Just baked this, Jack. It’s good.’
I’m stuffing the raisin roll into my mouth when Christopher’s father waves us upstairs. ‘Go and start. Schoolwork is important.’ He sounds like Mum.
A few nights ago, Christopher taped an interview of his parents talking. I wasn’t allowed to be there. His parents found it really hard, but they did it for Christopher. They didn’t want to be filmed at all. It’s just their voices on the video. I slouch in their old lounge while Christopher puts on the tape. He’s smart at editing anything digital. Smarter than me. The clip starts. There are flashes of Vietnam, the people, bright green paddy fields, mountains, sandy white beaches, villages, a church, Buddhist temples. Christopher’s family is Catholic. His mother’s voice tells about when she was a girl playing in the stream with other children. She doesn’t give any names. There are photos of kids wearing big straw hats, older people in long-sleeved caftans over loose pants. I think they’re Christopher’s grandparents. It makes me feel sad that they haven’t got names.
Christopher’s father speaks slowly. ‘Saigon fell to the communists. Saigon was beautiful before the war. We lived in a village near Saigon.’ He stops and there’re tinkling sounds of Vietnamese music. The pictures keep flashing and the flutes sound like birds. Suddenly there’s a crash. Drums. I jerk forward from the lounge. ‘There were machine guns and bombs.’ Pictures of destroyed villages, houses, temples fill the screen. There’s a photo of a screaming girl, with her clothes torn away. ‘Kim Phuc is the burning girl running from napalm bombs.’ I catch my breath. ‘The communi
sts came with their flags, red with a yellow star.’ Christopher’s father’s voice becomes quieter. ‘Your grandparents were there. They were teachers. They hid us but I saw the soldiers beat them. Dragging them away to prison camps. They never came back.’
There’s a lump in my throat.
‘I never saw them again.’
There’s more music and then Christopher’s mother’s voice. ‘I hid too. My sister, parents and I dug a dirt hole under our house. We were there while the planes bombed us, holding each other. Afterward, there was no one left in my village.’ There were just war planes, burning houses, shell-shocked children and people fleeing. ‘There wasn’t enough food.’ More photos. ‘My father said we had to leave Vietnam. Escape from our country.’
The pictures on the screen change to old wooden fishing boats and high seas. ‘My father gave everything we had to the captain to go on the boat.’ Her voice is breathless. ‘There were so many people everywhere and there were soldiers with guns. My mother and I scrambled onto the boat, but my father and sister became separated from us in the crowds. I didn’t want to leave them. I don’t know where they are now.’ Music. ‘We were on the old ship for two months. The waves were big. Everyone was afraid the boat would sink. Everyone was afraid all the time. When the pirates attacked the boat, we were even more afraid. They left us water. No food, but water.’
We watch the video silently. Christopher’s parents say together, ‘We are glad that we’re here with our son Christopher.’
I’m glad Christopher is here too.
He turns on the light and I look at him. My stomach’s a knot. I don’t feel like making a joke. Christopher nods at me. ‘It’s OK,’ but it’s not. How can it ever be OK? Half his family isn’t here. I couldn’t stand losing my family.
We take notes from the book Mum borrowed from the library.
When I leave, Christopher’s parents give me a bag of sweet buns for Nanna and my family.
I’m glad to get home. Glad Nanna’s asleep with her teeth falling out and Puss on her lap. Glad Mum’s in the kitchen cooking. Glad Rob’s in the garden trimming a tree and glad when Samantha slumps onto my bed. I take out Grandad’s medals from the cabinet. Christopher’s grandparents haven’t got medals. I wish they had some too.
Samantha plays with Grandad’s medals. I think about Christopher’s other name, Peace.
Chapter 8
Sweet Buns
‘Mum,’ I shout as I beat Samantha into the front seat of the car. Glad Mum’s picking us up from school today. Samantha squeals, ‘It’s my turn in the front seat,’ but I’ve got news. ‘Mum, Mum. Christopher and my Vietnam project — we’re getting a prize at assembly.’ I look at Anna in the back seat. ‘Anna’s Italy project is getting a prize too.’
Mum starts the car but is hardly listening. ‘Oh, yes. Your parents will love that, Anna.’
‘There’re five other prizes as well. George Hamel is getting the most-improved award. Can you believe that? He did his project on England and drew a creepy plan of a ruined castle. He’s not such an idiot any more. Hey, but Christopher and I won first prize. We’ve got to do presentations for the prize giving.’
‘That’s lovely, Jack.’ Mum gives a pretend smile.
‘Mum, didn’t you hear me? We won first prize. There’s going to be a display in the library and the school’s going to write you a letter and there’s going to be a morning tea.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Mum says quietly again.
‘Mum. Are you all right?’
‘Sorry, Jack. Just thinking. It’s fantastic.’ Mum’s voice is flat like a sucked-out balloon. ‘Anna always does well. You and Christopher have worked so hard on the project. Grandad would have loved it.’ Mum catches her breath, like a sob. ‘That’s special.’
‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Mum gives a turn-your-lips-up smile and a pain shoots through my head. Does she miss Grandad? Is that it? Has there been an accident? Has Rob been run over? ‘Is Rob OK?’
‘Rob? What are you talking about?’
‘Is Nanna all right? She hasn’t fallen over again?’
‘Nanna’s fine.’ Mum presses her fingers against her forehead. ‘I’ve got a migraine. I’m going to the doctor.’ She puts her hand over mine. ‘I’ll be right soon. I am proud of you. Proud of Christopher. And Anna too.’
Mum gets migraines sometimes. As she drops us off at home, Nanna opens the front door and Puss wanders out. I feel better when I see Nanna. She’s her usual Nanna-self, wobbling, with cookie crumbs on her blouse. We wave goodbye to Mum. Anna rings her parents to tell them the news about her Italy project. There’s excited shouting on the other end of the line. Anna’s laughing as she puts down the phone and goes to check on Frank.
I can’t believe that the wedding invitations are still piled on the hall stand. They have to be posted soon or no one will come. I’ll tell Mum when she gets home. I can post them.
Nanna beams when I announce the news about Christopher and my Vietnam project. She opens her arms. ‘Hug, Jack.’ She holds me for a long time and whispers in my ear, ‘Grandad hugs you too, Jack.’ I love Nanna and Grandad.
Samantha is busy drawing her millionth picture of a dog in her room. ‘I’m walking Anna home,’ I shout as we leave. Samantha gives us a half wave. She’s colouring in the spotty ears of a Dalmatian.
‘Bye, Samantha,’ Anna sings out.
We walk to the beach. There are some surfers paddling out there, but there’s hardly a ripple. I breathe in the salt air when the scent of something sweet wafts toward me. I turn to find out where it comes from. ‘Hey, Anna, you smell like peppermint.’
Her curls shimmer in the sun. ‘Well, you better not eat me.’
I grab her hand and pretend to bite it and she laughs, but then I don’t let go. Her skin is soft and warm. Suddenly my heart’s pounding. She doesn’t pull her hand away as we walk along the beach. We only let go as we turn into the shopping street, but I still feel her fingers in the palm of my hand.
We drop into Christopher’s bakery to see if he’s there. He’s not in the shop. Christopher’s mother looks up. ‘Christopher’s gone to the post office. He’ll be back later,’ she explains quietly. ‘But I am glad you’re here. I wanted to say that we’re very happy about the project.’ She smiles. ‘Thank you for working with Christopher.’
A shiver runs down my spine. I don’t want her to thank me. It was hard for them to answer Christopher’s questions. They went through so much in Vietnam. It was hard for Nanna to speak about it too. I want to tell her how brave she is, but don’t know how to. I stand there on the cream tiled floor with a red face, looking like an idiot.
Anna takes over. ‘I didn’t know much about Vietnam. It’s made the class think about war and peace. About risking everything to come here. The Vietnam project is really important.’
I look at Anna and know why she’s so special.
Christopher’s mother bends forward over the counter. ‘Thank you, Anna. Thank you, Jack.’ She picks up the metal tongs and fills two paper bags with sweet buns. ‘Please take them for your families.’
Christopher’s father appears from the back wearing his white apron. ‘Hello, Jack and Anna.’ He smiles. ‘We’ll see you at the prize giving.’
‘Yes, that’ll be a great day,’ Anna says, as we leave.
We’re nearly at Napolis’ Super Delicioso Fruitologist Market when we hear Mr Napoli’s voice boom down the street. ‘Bella, Anna. Bravo. Bravo. Our clever girl, è molto intelligente.’ He has his arms out. Mrs Napoli is waving her hands and there’s a lot of shouting and hugging. Mr Napoli announces that he’s going to take Anna, Christopher, Samantha and me to the best ice-cream shop on the beach.
I take my time walking home. Anna and I held hands. I think about that all the way back to Sea Breeze.
Rob and Mum arrive home together from work. That’s strange. Mum brings home take-away Chinese dinner — she isn’t cooking tonight. That’s strange too. Mum is quiet. That’s very strange.
‘What did the doctor say?’ I ask. She jumps. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’
‘Nothing, Jack. Migraine.’
I feel strange now. Mum has tears in her eyes. She rubs them, glances at Rob, then hurries us all to the dinner table. Nanna talks about Christopher and my Vietnam project. Rob asks a few questions, but Mum doesn’t say anything.
Samantha pipes in. ‘I’m working on a dog project, Nanna. Do you want to see?’
How many dog projects can one girl do? She races to her room and comes back with a pile of pictures for a poster. By now dinner’s over and Rob heads for the kitchen sink. He nudges me. ‘Why don’t you help your sister with her poster? I don’t need dishwashing help tonight.’ I start to object, but I can see Rob wants to do it alone today. I wander over to Samantha to check out her drawings. I sneak a look at Mum and Rob. They are whispering and acting differently. I get this scared feeling.
‘When everyone’s ready, I’d like a family talk tonight.’ Mum takes lemonade and the sweet buns Christopher’s parents gave us to the lounge room.
I give Mum a question-mark look. What’s all the weirdness about? Leo pops into my mind and that shooting pain charges through my head. If Leo is going to live here, that’s bad. There’s not enough room. He can visit, but this is my house. Rob walks into the lounge room and brings up Leo. My stomach sinks, but then he says, ‘Since Leo surfed here, he’s joined his local Surf Life Saving Club. He’s liking it more up north.’
So it’s not about Leo. Maybe this is just another wedding talk. I can’t take any more wedding plans. Those invitations have to be posted now. They’re piled next to the mice, being splattered with mouse poo. Nanna’s comfy in her armchair with Puss on her lap. Samantha is on the lounge. Rob stands with his feet apart and rubs his head. We’re waiting. Mum’s next to him. We’re waiting. Samantha leans over to Nanna and pats Puss. We’re waiting. Can Mum hurry up? I have to check my ponto. Write up scientific notes. Then I want to go through my photos of Anna and find a good one. Rob clears his throat. ‘The wedding.’
Always Jack Page 5
