H is for Happiness

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘Douglas?’ I said. ‘Are you okay?’

  He moved his tongue over his lips and his eyelids fluttered some more.

  ‘Douglas?’

  He opened his eyes. They didn’t quite focus. It was like he was looking through me.

  ‘What the …?’ he muttered.

  ‘You’re okay,’ I said, though I had no idea if that was true. In fact, I opened my mouth to correct myself, but didn’t get the chance. His eyes roamed my face.

  ‘Who are you?’ he croaked.

  What happened next was a blur. Douglas’s eyes rolled back in his head. Facsimile Penelope came rushing out. There was crying and yelling. There was bustle. There was a phone call. An ambulance arrived ten minutes later in a blaze of flashing lights. Douglas was stretchered into it. His facsimile parents scrambled into the back. The ambulance left in the same blaze of flashing lights. I watched it disappear down the track. After a minute I couldn’t even hear the siren. The silence was … oppressive.

  I rode home very slowly and didn’t fall off once. Or twice. There had been too much falling today. The trip gave me the opportunity to go over in my head what I had witnessed. I ran the scene over and over and I still wasn’t sure. You see, for a moment there, as Douglas was plummeting to earth, I thought I saw him flicker. Or shimmer. It was the tiniest fraction of a second. Maybe I blinked.

  Or maybe I’d seen Douglas Benson From Another Dimension going home.

  Mum rang Douglas’s facsimile mother later that day [I’m no good on the phone to people I don’t know well]. The news was good. Douglas had recovered consciousness and seemed fine. He’d had x-rays and other tests and they’d come out normal. The hospital was keeping him in for a few days for observation, but the general opinion was that he’d just have a bad headache for a day or two. Mum sent our best wishes.

  The next few days were strange. School felt lonely and home was very different. Dad spent lots of time with Rich Uncle Brian and he’d come home from these meetings in a very good mood. Once or twice we went to the park and flew his plane. He made jokes all the time. Mum wasn’t in her bedroom nearly as much. Once I caught her looking at a book about New Orleans. She had a dreamy smile on her face.

  Dreamy smiles were becoming common in the Phee household.

  Thursday lunchtime. I sat in my specially reserved library chair, ate a sandwich and flicked through a new dictionary that had just arrived. I was impressed with it. It had new words and that is a good thing.

  Douglas tapped me on the knee. He had a bandage round his head and I was impressed with that too. It framed his knobbly bits beautifully.

  ‘Hi Candice,’ he said.

  I struggled with my response. Should I say ‘Hello Douglas Benson From Another Dimension’ or ‘Hello Douglas Benson’? Who was I talking to? I examined his interesting face. His eyes still crowded towards the middle. His nose was still larger than you’d wish if designing it from scratch. His eyebrows remained hairy caterpillars. His knobbly bits appeared unchanged. And then a small light bulb appeared over my head. Actually, it didn’t. I speak metaphorically.

  If Douglas Benson From Another Dimension had gone home then this Douglas Benson wouldn’t know who I was. My logic was sound. I put it down to reading the dictionary and the complete works of Charles Dickens. This undoubtedly hones brain power.

  ‘Hello, Douglas Benson From Another Dimension,’ I said. ‘It didn’t work, then.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your portal/passport.’

  He knelt before me and his eyes flashed with excitement.

  ‘Wrong, Candice,’ he said. ‘It did work. It worked beautifully.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. Maybe my brain wasn’t very honed.

  ‘I’ve come back,’ he continued. ‘I spent a couple of days with Mum and Dad and then I returned to this world.’

  ‘Fancy,’ I said.

  ‘I came back for you,’ he said. ‘I want you to travel with me across dimensions.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ I said. I thought this was an appropriate remark under the circumstances.

  ‘Will you, Candice? Will you? Mum and Dad are so looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘I thought you couldn’t think of a way.’

  ‘I couldn’t. But Mum did. We worked it out together.’

  ‘Does it involve trees?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I can’t, Douglas,’ I replied.

  His face fell. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am afraid of heights. I cannot climb the tree-passport. Even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to jump from it.’

  He got to his feet and paced. His hands clenched into fists. He even tried to pull at his hair, but it was so short he couldn’t get a grip. Finally, he returned.

  ‘I’ll think of another way, Candice,’ he said. ‘A way that doesn’t involve trees.’

  ‘Or heights of any kind?’

  ‘Or heights of any kind. It will be difficult. It will be very difficult. But I’ll do it. I swear to you, Candice. I will do it. You’ll just have to give me time.’

  ‘Righty ho,’ I said. ‘Consider time to be given.’

  He left after that. Douglas told me he had only come to school to see me and that the doctors had instructed him to take the week off. I watched him walk down the library stairs. To be honest, I wasn’t too sorry to see him leave. The new dictionary was calling to me and I wanted to look up the word delusion again.

  Walking home from school, I heard the sound of a motorbike. I stopped because it sounded like the motorbike was on the pavement. It was. So was I.

  It stopped next to me and the rider lifted up the visor on her helmet. It was a postie and not just any postie. Facsimile Penelope.

  ‘Hello, Candice,’ she said. ‘I thought it was you.’

  ‘Hello,’ I said.

  ‘I’m so sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye on Sunday,’ she continued. ‘But what with the ambulance and everything …’

  ‘That’s okay.’ I said. ‘I’m glad Douglas is better.’

  ‘Thank you, Candice. I can’t tell you how relieved we are.’

  ‘You can,’ I said.

  Facsimile Penelope looked puzzled, but then delved into her satchel. ‘I nearly forgot. I have a letter for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  She handed it over. It had a blue sticker with ‘Air Mail’ printed on it. And an American stamp. Facsimile Penelope drove off in a thin cloud of blue smoke. I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet.

  Dear Candice,

  Hey, I am so sorry I haven’t replied to your letters! The thing is, the address was wrong. All your letters were delivered to my neighbor, Mr Singlebaum, who has the apartment above ours. And he’s been in Europe for the last year. He got back yesterday and brought them to our apartment.

  I just about died laughing reading your letters. You are either one cool chick or you’re completely and utterly mad. Who knows? Maybe you’re both. Or maybe you’re deliberately weird. A lot of my friends reckon I’m crazy, so I guess we’ll get along. I have so much catching up to do, but I thought I’d just get this note off to you. Expect heaps of letters over the coming months.

  Thanks for the geography lesson, incidentally. Who’da thought Canada was to the north of us (I’m kidding, by the way)? And, yeah, I’ve got a boyfriend who’s our school’s quarterback. This Douglas dude sounds unbelievably weird.

  Gotta go and catch the post.

  Your penpal,

  Denille

  I looked up at the cloudless sky. I am fairly sure there was a dreamy smile on my face. As I said, you can’t move for dreamy smiles in the Phee household these days.

  I love it when things work out. And it suddenly occurred to me that I had finished the Alphabet Autobiography as well. Hurrah! Miss Bamford would be pleased [and possibly astonished at its length]. But finishing it also made me just a little sad. I’m not a fan of things ending. That’s probably why I just go round and round.

  I’m already th
inking of my next chapter. ‘A Is For Aardvark.’

  What do you think?

  Another wonderful and heartwarming comedy drama from award-winning author Barry Jonsberg.

  Winner, Best Young Adult Fiction, Indie Book Awards 2019

  Book of the Year, Older Readers, Notables, CBCA Awards 2019

  ‘Give this book to everybody – it is urgent fiction and a true must-read.’ – Books+Publishing

  ‘Dealing subtly with a range of topics…this is a moving, witty and endearing narrative… Highly recommended.’ – Magpies

  Many books are optioned for films, but very few actually make it onto the big screen. So, when I heard that My Life as an Alphabet had been optioned by a screenwriter, I didn’t get overly excited. Even when I found out that the screenplay placed fourth out of a thousand entries in an international screenwriting competition, I tried to be realistic.

  Competitions are one thing, finding funding of millions of dollars is something else entirely. Then Julie Ryan of Cyan films got involved. Julie is a legend in Australian film-making and produced the iconic movie Red Dog. This was significant (and yes, slightly exciting) but I still carried on writing the next book. ‘I’ll allow myself to dream when the funding is found,’ I said to myself. Then I got a call from Lisa Hoppe, the screenwriter, to tell me that Screen Australia was putting up money and that the film would definitely happen (later, other funding bodies joined the party).

  Interestingly, I received that call in the southern part of WA where I was doing school visits, only forty or fifty kilometres from where the film would eventually be shot. Now I got excited! I made two phone calls – one to my wife, Nita, who was shocked but thrilled and the second to Angela Namoi who had brokered the deal for me and Allen & Unwin. To be honest, I think Angela was a bit shocked as well (and equally thrilled).

  I read the screenplay and was delighted at the way Lisa had adapted my book for the screen. Lisa confessed she was worried I wouldn’t like her treatment, that some authors can get very protective of their words and characters, but I assured her I understood that different media require different treatments. And her screenplay was absolutely true to the heart and spirit of the book.

  I was invited down to Albany, WA where the film was scheduled to be shot and shown the ‘mood board’ that director John Sheedy had compiled, outlining his vision for the movie. It was a mood board saturated and vibrant with colour. I also learned that I had been given a cameo role in the film – Mr Coolidge, the school principal who introduces Douglas Benson From Another Dimension into Candice’s class. Although John Sheedy gave me no specific direction (to be fair, I’m in the film for two seconds in a long shot and have no dialogue) I did a Robert de Niro and immersed myself in the character for a couple of months. I decided he would be an old, overweight idiot and I think the finished product shows how well I delivered that brief.

  News of the cast began to leak – Richard Roxburgh as Dad, Joel Jackson as Rich Uncle Brian, Emma Booth as Mum and Miriam Margolyes as Miss Bamford (the amazing Deb Mailman was a later addition). I must admit I was a little overwhelmed by the quality of the stars assembled. Later I found out that director John Sheedy sent ‘love letters’ to the cast telling them why they were crucial to his vision for the film.

  Finally, after an exhaustive nationwide search, the two leading roles were cast. Daisy Axon as Candice and Wesley Patten as Douglas Benson From Another Dimension. Obviously, I knew nothing about these children but Lisa Hoppe sent me some pictures. Daisy looked gorgeously dorky and I knew she was the right choice for the quirky Candice Phee. Wesley, an indigenous boy, had previously made a short film with John Sheedy – Mrs McCutcheon, which won a swathe of awards both here and internationally. I watched that short film and was blown away by his acting and by Sheedy’s direction. John later told me he had never worked with such a charismatic child actor before. Everything was set. Now the film had to be made.

  Nita and I travelled to Albany in November 2018 and met up with Angela Namoi and her husband Scott (both Nita and Scott are extras in the climactic hall scene – they sit together on the far left of the screen as seen from Candice’s POV). It was surreal to meet my characters and even more surreal to act in a scene with Miriam Margolyes, who has always been a screen favourite. My two seconds of screen time took four hours to film (nothing compared to the twelve hours it took for the hall scene later on). During a break, John Sheedy told me how Miriam would fart in front of the children in the classroom. Not only that, but she’d give a countdown. She is as outrageous in real life as she is in character. Since the filming, she has visited us twice in Darwin. ‘Don’t forget your fat friend,’ she said as I dropped her off at her hotel. We couldn’t, if we wanted. Which we don’t.

  We watched the filming for a week and were mightily impressed by John Sheedy’s direction and the acting ability of Daisy and Wesley. Everyone treated us with great kindness and made us feel incredibly welcome. This was not something they had to do. I’d written the book six years before and my job was done. They’d bought the rights and didn’t have to speak to me if they didn’t want to. But we were all made to feel part of the team and I will always be grateful for that. I felt the film was going to be special and certainly cast and crew felt the same way. The backdrop of Albany was spectacular. As John said, the town is a character in H is for Happiness in its own right.

  We returned to Darwin and I tried to forget the film (yeah, right!). I knew it was going to have its world premiere at the Melbourne International Film Festival in August 2019 and that post-production had started. That all takes place behind closed doors, so there was no news at all. Then the first stills were released and then the ‘teaser’ trailer. This was followed by interviews with cast and crew. LevelK, the international distributors, took a teaser of the film to the Cannes Film Festival (it later announced it is taking the film to the Toronto International Film Festival). MIFF was making the film its centrepiece Gala family production, complete with red carpet and a miniature horse in attendance. My sister travelled from the UK to see the premiere, along with my brother from Brisbane and my niece and all my Darwin family, plus author friends like Scot Gardner, Will Kostakis and David Legge. The premiere was sold out. 1200 people watched as John Sheedy led cast onto the stage, including me, and introduced us all. Then we watched.

  At the end of the film the whole audience cheered and applauded. Afterwards I was introduced to the man who is writing the screenplay for A Song Only I Can Hear. Yes, Julie Ryan has optioned it for a film. Yes, John Sheedy is on board to direct it. I said to Julie, ‘I’ll get excited when there’s funding.’ She replied, ‘I don’t take on projects I can’t fund.’

  Looks like there could be more excitement to come. But, (apologies to Julie Ryan) I’ll still wait for the funding …

  Barry Jonsberg, author of My Life as an Alphabet, published by Allen & Unwin, February 2013.

  H is for Happiness premiered at the Melbourne International Film Festival in August 2019. General release in Australia scheduled for early 2020.

  About the author

  BARRY JONSBERG’S YA novels, The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull and It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! were shortlisted for the CBCA awards. It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! also won the Adelaide Festival Award for Children’s Literature and Dreamrider was shortlisted in the NSW Premier’s Awards. Being Here won the QLD Premier’s YA Book Award and was shortlisted for the Prime Minister’s Award. My Life as an Alphabet won the Gold Inky, the Children’s Peace Literature Award, the Territory Read, Children’s Literature/YA Award and the Victorian Premier’s Literary Award and was shortlisted in the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards, the CBCA awards, the WA Premier’s Book Awards and the Adelaide Festival Awards.

  Barry lives in Darwin. His books have been published in the USA, the UK, France, Poland, Germany, Hungary, the Netherlands, Slovenia, Brazil, Turkey, China and Korea.

  ppiness