Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms (22 page)

Once the enclosure was all set up, Finn chose the three birds that would stay at Windermere and put them out in the coop. Then he let the other three go and flapped his arms around so that they wouldn’t hang about.

‘I guess I’d better get going too, Sunny,’ he said, closing the clasps on the empty crate. ‘You going to walk me to the bus stop?’

I suddenly felt a little awkward because
everyone
knows that when a boy says
Are you going to walk me to the bus stop?
that he’s planning on doing something cringeable like try to kiss you. And, well, it’s not that I wasn’t prepared to give kissing a try, it was more that I didn’t really want my first kiss to be a part of some boy’s
Are you going to walk me to the bus stop?
master plan. Even if it was Finn. I’d be worried about it the whole way, which would spoil everything.

My plan was that there would be no plan at all, as far as
you can plan to not have a plan, if you know what I mean.

‘Gee, Finn, ‘I said. ‘I really would like to but I’m kind of grounded.’ And right at that moment Dad’s car pulled up. ‘It’s them! It’s them!’ I shouted, clapping my hands and running as fast as I could to open the front gates so that Dad could drive the car in.

Finn followed me and I introduced him quickly to Dad and Steph through the car window, before Dad continued up the drive.

‘So, next time,’ I said as I closed the gate with Finn on the other side of it, ‘the seance?’

‘Sure thing, Sunny Hathaway,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on those birds now, won’t you?’

I don’t know if it was my imagination, but to me Steph looked better already. Maybe it was just because she’d made an effort to get out of her sloppy tracksuit pants. Dad was busy getting all the baby equipment out of the car and Flora was fast asleep in her capsule thing.

‘Come inside, Steph,’ said Mum, putting an arm around her. ‘I’ve got the kettle on.’

‘Sunny!’ called Dad. ‘How ’bout you take the portacot upstairs?’ He handed me a rectangular bag with a handle.

‘Dad, did you hear Mum and Carl are getting married? We’re having a big feast right here in the spring and I’m going to be a flower girl, and can Flora come, Dad? Pleeease?’

‘Let’s just get set up here first, Sunny. One thing at a time.’

Dad and I lugged everything upstairs (including Flora, still asleep in her capsule), making sure Willow didn’t sneak into anyone’s bag and steal a toothbrush to chew on. When everything was up in Granny Carmelene’s old room I ran down to the kitchen to find Steph, because I wanted to be the one to show her to the guest room

‘Tada!’ I said, as I swept open the door. Mum had even lit a scented candle to make it smell nice.

‘My goodness,’ said Steph, ‘What a beautiful room. I really don’t feel like I deserve it.’ She looked over to Dad, all tearily.

‘You
do
deserve it Steph. And you can stay as long as you like,’ I said, wishing like anything that Flora could stay forever.

That night I
went to bed with an unusual feeling of absolute and undeniable
completion.
Kind of like how a homing pigeon must feel when it’s been flapping and flapping and finally drops down from the sky when it sees its own rooftop.

All my family was in the one house. I didn’t have anywhere else that I belonged, or anyone at all that I was missing.

Except Granny Carmelene, of course. But that would ease up as soon as I’d had the seance and worked out exactly where
nowhere
was. After that I could even sack Bruce and Terry.

I drifted to sleep, knowing that Flora was under the same roof, and so was Dad and so was Mum (even if
they were divorced). Even knowing Lyall and Saskia and Carl were there was comforting, and that’s saying something.

I woke up with Willow licking my face – right when I was in the middle of a dream.

‘How did
you
get in?’ I said, turning away and pulling the covers over my face. Willow jumped up on top of me and started digging at the blankets as if she was trying to find a buried bone.

‘Off, Willow!’ I squealed, trying to sit up. She leapt down and stood by the door, wagging her tail and smiling.

‘Okay, I’m up. Are you happy now?’

She barked, as if to say,
Sure am.

I looked out the window. There was the thickest fog that made the whole garden look all Peter Rabbity, and I caught a glimpse of Settimio in the orchard, but there was no way I was going to be able to see anything through the telescope because the visibility was so poor. Besides, I knew what he was up to anyway. Mum was taking him to the doctor to get his plaster off. (He hadn’t even told
her
how come he’d needed it in the first place.)

I put on my ugg boots and dressing gown and ran down the turret stairs. The door to the guest room was closed tight, which meant Steph and Flora were probably still asleep. I could hear Dad’s voice down in the kitchen.
Saskia’s door was closed too, so I gave a gentle knock and poked my head inside.

‘Pssst, want to help me make something later?’ She didn’t actually answer but just gave a kind of moan, which I took as a yes.

Willow was still at the top of the turret stairs and gave a whimper.

‘I’m
not
carrying you, Willow!’ I said, and she must have known I was serious because she trotted straight down onto the landing and then down the next flight too, all by herself.

Carl was busy tossing something in a frypan, and Mum was at the table with her head buried in the crossword, one hand on a coffee cup and the other clutched around a biro.

‘Ah, morning, Sunny,’ said Dad, looking up from the business section of the paper.

‘Hi, Dad,’ I said. ‘Did Flora sleep okay?’

‘She was a
little
unsettled, but nothing too far out of the ordinary for a baby her age.’

‘What’s cooking, Carl?’ I asked, not quite sure if it smelt good or not.

‘Not bacon,’ said Carl, ‘with mushrooms.’

I was a little confused. ‘If it’s
not
bacon, then what is it?’

‘It’s
Not Bacon,
that’s what it’s called,’ said Carl, showing
me the packet. ‘Baconless bacon. It’s made out of bean curd. It’s delicious, Sunny. It tastes just like bacon.’

Saskia appeared at the kitchen door rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Yum, bacon.’

‘It’s Not Bacon, actually,’ I said, ‘but the good news is it tastes just like bacon.’ I held up the packet.

‘So it’s
fake
bacon? Why don’t they just call it Faken?’ asked Saskia.

Carl laughed out loud. ‘That’s funny. Why didn’t I think of that? Do you want some Faken, Saskia?’

‘Nah, thanks, Dad. I think I’ll have cereal.’

‘Well, got to fly,’ said my dad, putting his bowl in the dishwasher. He leant over and gave me a kiss. ‘You help look after Steph now, won’t you, Sunny? I’ve got a bit of running around to do this morning, then I’ll come back and say goodbye and get a cab to the airport.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I was thinking Steph might even like breakfast in bed. It would be like room service.’

‘Perhaps not Not Bacon,’ said Dad, winking at Carl before he left.

‘Dad, don’t tell me you’re turning vegetarian,’ said Saskia with her mouth full of cereal.

‘Okay, I won’t tell you I’m turning vegetarian,’ said Carl. ‘Faken, Alex?’

‘Sorry?’ said Mum, looking up from the crossword as
if she’d just dropped in from another planet. ‘This DA person is impossible. I’ve only got about three out. What did you say, Carl?’

‘Does that mean you
are
turning vegetarian?’ said Saskia.

‘Not necessarily,’ said Carl.

‘Because if
we
have to go vegetarian, I’m going to go live at Mum’s.’

Saskia and I made breakfast for Steph and carried it upstairs on a tray. I could hear Flora making gurgling noises, so I knew Steph was awake. Saskia held the breakfast tray while I knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ said Steph softly.

‘Room service,’ I said gently opening the door. ‘We brought you some brekkie.’

‘You’re a doll, Sunny,’ said Steph. She was propped up in bed breastfeeding Flora, so I put the tray on her bedside dresser and noticed Saskia had slunk back downstairs, closing the door behind her.

‘Has your dad already gone?’ she asked.

‘A little while ago. But he’s coming back before going to the airport. Didn’t he say goodbye?’

Steph shook her head. ‘It’s okay,’ she said tearily. ‘He probably thought we were asleep and didn’t want to wake us. I hope all this isn’t putting you off, Sunny – off having babies, I mean,’ said Steph.

‘Not at all. Anyway, Steph, you’re really lucky because not only have I seen an angel in this very room, but Saskia and I are going to make you some medicine that I’m practically certain will cure your PND. Want to go for a walk later? I’ll show you and Flora around the garden.’

‘Sure,’ said Steph. ‘As long as you’re not in any sort of a hurry.’

I ran back downstairs to find Saskia. She was in the drawing room arguing with Lyall about who was going to tell the Archers that Banjo should be expelled from Boredom Control.

‘You should tell them, Lyall; you’re the boss, and everyone knows that bosses are the ones who do the sacking.’

‘She’s got a point, Lyall,’ I said. ‘I mean, you’re not the boss of
me,
but you are the boss of Boredom Control. It was all your idea.’

‘But I’m not the one who wants to sack him,’ said Lyall. ‘You guys do, so it’s your job to tell the Archers.’

Saskia grumbled and stomped out of the room.

‘Hey, Saskia,’ I said following her towards the back door. ‘Do you know what?’

‘What?’ said Saskia.

‘If we do decide Banjo has to go, we can always just call them up. With any luck we’ll get the answering machine’

‘Thanks, Sunny, but maybe we should give Banjo one last chance. I mean, I’m meant to pick him up later today.
It’s not really fair to sack him without warning.’

‘Come on, help me collect some rose petals then. I’m making a special medicine for Steph.’

‘Okay, if you think it will help.’

Saskia and I got an old ceramic bowl from the pantry and went outside. ‘We have to put some water in the bottom. We’ll use some from the rainwater tank,’ I said.

‘How do you know how to make medicine anyway, Sunny?’

‘I read about it in one of Mum’s books about flower essences, but I got the idea to use rose petals from Settimio’s book and a conversation he was having with Mum.’

‘But what does a
flower essence
actually do?’

‘They’re used for emotional things and they heal with vibration so subtle that you can’t really feel it, but your soul can, if you know what I mean.’ I put a small amount of water in the bottom of the bowl.

‘Would there be anything a person could take to make them get dyslexia, do you think?’ said Saskia, watching how I carefully pulled a couple of petals from each rose and floated them in the bowl of water.

‘I don’t think so, Saskia, but there might be a flower-essence remedy for a person who is
obsessed
with wanting to be dyslexic when clearly they’re not.’

‘Sunny, if you were
really
serious about being an artist, you’d want dyslexia too.’