Sunny Side Up
Page 9
‘Who are you after?’ he said to Carl.
‘The Conroys,’ Carl replied.
‘What? Quinny?’ asked the man. ‘Didn’t you hear? He got carted off by the cops. When was it? Tuesday night. Drugs apparently. Nah, the Conroy place is all closed up. Quinny’s lady took the baby and headed off to relatives in Perth, last I heard.’
‘What about Buster?’ I asked, beginning to make sense of why he hadn’t been at school.
‘Gone too,’ he said. ‘Apparently staying with friends, or something, until they track down his mum.’
‘But Buster hasn’t got any fr—’
‘That’ll do, Sunny,’ said Carl.
I was hoping he’d had to move to the other side of town – somewhere with a nicer sounding name, like Sunshine or Deer Park, but too far away for him to be in our basketball team, or even go to our school, or bother taking Claud away from me.
When we got home, Carl put the Conroy pizzas in the fridge for us to eat over the weekend (it was lucky I didn’t end up spitting in Buster’s). When Carl was making room on the top shelf, I noticed that the profit jar wasn’t in the back of the fridge where we usually hide it. It was absolutely and undeniably gone. I looked everywhere. You don’t have to be a genius to work out who might have taken it, given that she now hangs about with criminals’ spawn.
14 .
Steph’s baby is a girl. But that was a big secret because Dad didn’t know and wanted it to be a surprise. Steph found out at the ultrasound, and I did too because Dad and Steph let me come. Dad stood outside for the part where the radiographer told us she was a girl. So there was no talking of names either, because that would be a giveaway, but Steph told me in secret that she wanted to call the baby Flora.
‘Like in Babar,’ I said, with my hand on Steph’s tummy. ‘Remember, Celeste had triplets? There was Flora, Alexander and Pom.’
Steph said, ‘Exactly. Flora as in Babar, not as in table margarine.’
Steph and I were lying on the couch when I felt Flora kick. You could even see it, a heel or an elbow rolling along Steph’s tummy like a wave. I rested my ear near her belly button but all I could hear was gurgling. The baby seemed to take up every bit of space. It was hard to imagine how all the usual stuff, like Steph’s liver and kidneys, could keep working properly when they were squashed up into corners. It was even harder to imagine how Flora was going to fit out. Thinking about it made me want to cross my legs.
‘Are you scared?’ I asked, ‘Of the birth, I mean.’
‘Not at all. I’ll just turn myself inside out like a sock,’ said Steph.
Flora would be eleven years younger than me, which means we really wouldn’t have much to argue about. It’s perfect. With an age gap that big you can pretty much guarantee she’s going to idolise me. When Flora’s seven, I’ll have my own car or maybe even a motorbike with a sidecar, and Flora can wear goggles and a silk scarf. I’ll pick her up from school and won’t get her home till late, and I’ll do all her homework, and we can make bombe alaska any time we like.
Steph asked about Pizza-A-Go-Girl. I told her about Claud nicking off, and how she’d gone weird in general, and it was even looking like she’d stolen our profits.
‘That does sound weird,’ said Steph. ‘But it also sounds like you and Claud may just be growing up at different speeds. I remember when boys suddenly seemed to matter. They will to you too, Sunny, but maybe not right now, that’s all.’
‘Did you develop a fake laugh?’ I asked.
‘Probably,’ Steph giggled.
‘Did you walk funny, with your shoulders all pulled back when the boy was around and pretend to be ignoring him? And did you treat your friends bad and leave them out?’
‘Could you be jealous, perhaps, Sunny?’ said Steph as she struggled to sit up. ‘I mean, it’s normal to be jealous and all, but – I don’t know how to say this – maybe you’re being a little possessive? Maybe Claud still likes you as much as ever, but you’re just not the only one any more? Oh, I almost forgot, your grandmother called and wants you to ring her back. There’s a message on the pad over by the phone.’
I jumped up and called Granny Carmelene straightaway.
‘I was thinking, Sunny,’ she said over the phone (after we finished saying all the polite things you say at the beginning of phone calls with posh people). ‘That you might like to accompany me on an outing. I have to go into town next week. Perhaps we could go together? There are some places I’d love to share with you. How does next Thursday sound?’
‘It sounds fine, except for me having to go to school,’ I said in a hushed voice as I took the phone into my room so that Steph didn’t hear.
‘Good God! It won’t hurt you to miss a day, surely? School takes up far too much of a child’s life, if you ask me. Half the time, children learn nothing at all.’
I felt like I couldn’t really say no to Granny Carmelene. And mostly I didn’t want to say no either, so I agreed to meet her under the Flinders Street clocks on Thursday morning at ten o’clock. I figured I wouldn’t really have to lie. I could just add it to the list of all the other secrets that I have to keep, which is why, by the way, I had come up with my latest invention the Stash-O-Matic . . .
With the Tangent Police long gone, due to absolute incompetence throughout their entire department, I needed a device that could monitor my levels of chronic secret-keeping and let me know when they were getting dangerously high. The Stash-O-Matic was designed to go ping when my brain was in danger of bursting, to stop me from blurting out all the stored-up secrets to the wrong people. It made me think of the mean old man in Ackland Street who blurts out swear words all the time, and how a Stash-O-Matic could be just the thing to cure his Tourette’s Syndrome.
Steph had fallen asleep. I heard Dad coming home, so I quickly shoved the secret about next Thursday with Granny Carmelene into the top of the Stash-O-Matic and slammed the lid. According to the Stash-O-Matic, my secrecy levels were already dangerously high, so from then on I had to be sure not to shove in any new ones without getting rid of a few old ones first.
‘Ah ha! There you are,’ said Dad. ‘Ready for the game?’
‘Shhh!’ I whispered, pointing to Steph. ‘She’s asleep.’ ‘Come on then, get your gear, Sunny, we’ll leave Steph to sleep and go a bit early for a decent warm up.’ In the car I told Dad about Buster trying out for the team, and about how nuts he gets if something makes him angry.
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ said Dad. ‘Team sport could be just the right medicine. Anyhow Sunny, he’ll be judged on his merits and given a fair go, just like everybody else.’
That pretty much meant for certain that Buster would get in, especially as Claud had been giving him secret lessons.
‘So, Carl and his kids moved in this week,’ Dad said. ‘How’s it all going?’
Good one, Mum! I thought. She could at least tell me when a secret was no longer a secret. She’d specifically asked me not to tell Dad about Carl moving in.
‘It’s going okay, I guess. I’m a bit worried for Boris.’
The first thing I saw when Dad and I arrived at the basketball stadium was Claud and Buster sitting on the bench together giggling into their Gatorade. I wondered whether Claud knew about Uncle Quinny getting arrested and Buster becoming a sort-of orphan, but I didn’t wonder for too long because I couldn’t even look at them, due to being so angry about everything in general, and the profit jar in particular.
Jet Cooper arrived with Alice and Ruby and Ruby’s mum who is our team manager and does the scoring. Dad got us doing some drills and I found I could look at Claud and Buster more easily if it was about catching or throwing or bouncing a ball. I still felt awful, though. I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but I think I was dead jealous, just like Steph said, and I really didn’t like the idea of being a possessive person at all. I can tell you, feeling jealous would have to be the worst feeling in the world. Worse than being called Canary Legs twice in one day.
‘Poor old Buster’s been going through the wringer,’ Dad said as we were driving home.
‘Yeah,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Poor old Buster.’
‘Lucky he doesn’t have to move schools, though. And it’ll do him the world of good to stay with Claud’s family for a while. They’ll be a really good influence. It’s a great thing that they do – foster care.’
‘Are you freaking serious? Buster is living with Claud!!?’
That night in bed I remembered another thing that They say. They say that jealousy is a curse, which is exactly how it felt. Even though I was justified, I wished like anything I knew how to get the curse removed, like visiting a witch doctor or something. I was worried that if I didn’t find a cure quickly, I would have to do something drastic.
15 .
I tell you, by Thursday I really needed a day off. You try sitting next to someone you’re not talking to for three whole days – it’s torture. All that making sure you stare straight ahead so that you can ignore them properly is exhausting.
On Tuesday, Claud passed me a note, but I just screwed it up and put it in my mouth and chewed and chewed before spitting it in the bin in the middle of English.
‘Freak!’ said Claud, as I sat back down.
On Wednesday, she wrote me another note, but this time she held it up in front of my face so I couldn’t help reading it. It said she was coming over after school on Friday, for Pizza-A-Go-Girl. I gave Claud the eyebrow, as if to say I’ll believe it when I see it, Claud. Besides, I happen to have employed two reliable new workers, if you don’t know, and they’re not the sort to abandon me right in the middle of orders, or the sort who steal the profits. That’s why I like the eyebrow: there’s just so much it can help you say.
On Thursday morning, Lyall and Saskia and I all left home together. It was a good thing they went to the Catholic school – that way, they wouldn’t have to know about me wagging school to spend the day in the city with Granny Carmelene. And because they didn’t know, they wouldn’t be tempted to dob, or feel they had to tell a priest about it in confession.
Saskia was worried about Boris and Willow being home alone together all day, especially now that Boris was allowed outside.
‘He can just jump up onto the fence again, like he did yesterday,’ Lyall said.
‘But what if Willow chases him, and Boris runs away?’
I turned the corner as if I was heading in to school. ‘Boris will be fine, Saskia. See you later.’ I said waving good-bye.
‘Bye, Sunny,’ Lyall and Saskia said at the same time.
When Lyall and Saskia were out of sight I turned back and cut across the oval to the canal. I sat on the bench to eat my lunch, which was really my breakfast because I was in too much of a hurry to have any, due to the queue for the bathroom. Also, I figured it would be rude to eat my lunch in front of Granny Carmelene, and I didn’t think she’d be that excited about sharing a vegemite sandwich and a bunch of grapes. Maybe she had plans to take me somewhere posh, like the Hotel Windsor, where we could have tiny little cakes and tea. While I ate my lunch, I thought of a new word – jangry. It’s when you’re already hangry but you’re cursed with jealousy at the same time.
It was one of those perfect, gentle, summery days that aren’t too hot and don’t make me scared about global warming and polar bears. I lay on the cool morning grass by the canal. There were some newly hatched ducklings following their mother up towards the golf course, and a huddle of kids from the high school were smoking cigarettes under a cypress tree on the opposite side. I closed my eyes and looked up to the sky through warm purple eye-lids. For a few minutes I felt completely at ease, but then I ruined it by thinking about Claud and Buster, so I stood up and set off for the station, because sometimes when you walk fast you can leave unwanted thoughts behind.
Granny Carmelene was on the steps under the clocks at Flinders Street right on 10 o’clock. I could see her from behind, checking her watch as I came out of the gates. She had her hair up in a tall, twisty bun just like last time, and she wore a greenish flowery dress, pale alligator-skin shoes and a matching handbag.
‘Hello, Granny Carmelene,’ I said, leaning in to give her a kiss.
‘Sunday! You’re right on time. I’m so glad you could come. I know it was a little inconvenient, missing school and all.’
‘No, I wanted to come, really,’ I said, just as a busker playing the bagpipes got started and made Granny Carmelene jump.
‘Oh dear!’ she said, looking over her shoulder at the busker. ‘Let’s get going, I need to go to the map shop in Little Bourke Street. I’m planning a short trip to Tasmania.’
We crossed over Flinders Street and made our way down Swanston Street, fighting through a stream of people coming the other way. It made me wonder why they don’t have white lines down the middle of busy footpaths, just like on a road, so that people would stick to their side. But then I guess it would be hard for people to stop and look in shops if you were on the wrong side of the line. There were so many words coming out of the street, like the city had something big to say and that nobody would listen. It made me think of street poetry and how a Swanston Street version would be a good one for the book. Almost every shop had a spruiker out front with a microphone. Only ten dollars, ladies and gentlemen, ten dollars is all you’ll pay, ten dollars for two . . . ‘Ghastly racket!’ said Granny Carmelene, and I smiled back at her to let her know I agreed, because it was too loud to answer with words.
We cut down Royal Arcade, past the old fashioned lolly shop where a girl was working fast to stretch a hunk of warm yellow toffee around a hook on the wall. The more it stretched, the paler and shinier it became, until it looked like a thick strand of pearly hair that reminded me of the Rapunzel story. Granny Carmelene and I stood inside and watched her and another guy plonking and stretching and rolling the coloured toffees into one another, then rolling and stretching them out again. Finally, he snapped hundreds of brittle hunks off with a cutter and held out a scoop of tiny sweets for us to try.
‘Pesshenfruit rock?’ He said with a smile, but it wasn’t until I tasted it that I knew he meant Passion-fruit, and that he was from New Zealand. It really did taste like passionfruit, too. Not like how chicken chips taste nothing like chicken, and barbeque chips taste nothing like chops and sausages. It made me want to try all the flavours, but I could tell Granny Carmelene was tired of standing up, so we kept going.
In Little Bourke Street, over the road from where Granny Carmelene wanted to get her map, I spotted a shop called Spellbox. Maybe they would have something to help remove my jealousy curse?
‘We can have a look in there afterwards, if you like?’ said Granny Carmelene, who must have noticed me reading the tarot signs out the front of the shop.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘if we’ve got time.’
‘We’ve got all the time in the world,’ said Granny Carmelene holding open the door of the map shop for me.
There were all sorts of maps, for absolutely every place on earth, and lots of globes of the world too. But there was also a sign that said you weren’t allowed to touch any of them or spin them around. While Granny Carmelene was in the Australian section, I tried to find a map of Transylvania, but I couldn’t even find a listing for Transylvania in the European index.
‘What are you looking for, Sunny?’ said Granny Carmelene, appearing behind me.
‘I’m trying to look up Transylvania, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere,’ I said, running my finger down the long list of places starting with T.
‘Are you sure you don’t mean Tasmania, Sunday?’ Granny Carmelene chuckled. ‘I’m planning a trip to Tasmania, not Transylvania. Besides, I think the
y call it Romania these days dear.’
‘Oh,’ I said, feeling like I really should have known that myself, given that Transylvania was my favourite country, not to mention being the homeland of The Theys.
Granny Carmelene opened out a map of Tasmania and put her glasses on to have a better look. ‘Are you called to travel Sunny?’
‘I’ve been to Bali,’ I said. ‘But I was just a baby. When we finish school, Claud and I want to go to Naples, ’cos that’s the home of pizza making. And I really want to go to Madagascar, ’cos that’s where vanilla beans come from, and they’re my favourite sort of bean. Oh, and I want to go to Disneyland, ’cos, who wouldn’t really? Is this where you get your old Chinese maps from, Granny? I’d like to go to China, too.’
‘Good heavens no! My maps are antiques. I have an art dealer who specialises in old maps. He’s found some very rare ones and is on the lookout for me all the time. Ah, here’s what I need.’ She pointed to a place on the map called Mole Creek. ‘Right here, Sunday, is where you’ll find King Solomon’s Caves . . . Now, did you want to look in that shop over the road?’
Granny Carmelene paid for her map, put it in her handbag and we crossed the road to Spellbox. I could smell incense as we climbed the narrow stairs. A woman with waist-long hair and hoopy earrings smiled and said hello. I was too embarrassed to ask how to lift a curse of jealousy that caused throatache and heartache, so I just looked around at all the witchy things and hoped the curse-lifting section would jump out at me. Being there also made me think of Mum, and I wondered whether she knew about this shop.
I found the pre-prepared spells section. It was full of kits and instructions. There were spells for love, for banishment, for a change in luck and for prosperity and protection, but I didn’t see anything about removing a curse. There were coloured candles, too, which are meant to help with stuff when you light them. I read all the labels while Granny Carmelene browsed through the books. There were yellow candles to help with study, childhood issues (whatever they are), travel and confidence. Orange was for success, which I thought might be good to burn on Pizza-A-Go-Girl nights, and blue was for healing and relaxation. There was also a completely empty box for green candles, which were supposed to help with money, fertility, luck and employment. At least I wasn’t the sort of person in need of green, not that a bit of extra luck ever goes astray.