Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms (4 page)

‘Sorry,’ said Saskia. ‘We didn’t know anybody lived here.’

‘What did you do to your leg?’ asked Lyall.

‘
Non sono affari tuoi!
’ he said angrily, pointing one of his crutches towards Lyall as if it might have been a machine gun. ‘And no dogs here,
capito? Niente cani.’

‘Sor-ry,’ said Lyall. ‘I was just trying to make conversation.

‘You’re Italian!’ said Saskia. ‘We’re learning Italian at school, aren’t we, Lyall?’

‘
Sì,
’ said Lyall. ‘
Il mio nome è Lyall, questo è Saskia e questo è Sunday.
’ You could tell Lyall was dead proud of himself for being able to remember how to introduce himself in Italian. ‘
Come ti chiami?
’ Lyall continued, which means
What’s your name,
in Italian. Even I knew that.

‘
Lasciatemi in pace!
’ the man said and slammed the door as hard as he could in our faces.

‘What sort of name is that?’ I asked.

‘He said, “Leave me in peace”. In other words,
Rack off!’
said Lyall.

‘Weird old rude mean man!’ said Saskia.

Good one, Mum,
I thought to myself.
Why didn’t you tell
us there was a psychopath at the bottom of the garden? Granny’s house has been empty for months. Why is he still here?’

After we’d explored absolutely every square inch of the house and the garden, we all gathered in the kitchen where Mum and Carl were sorting through boxes.

‘Yum. What’s cooking?’ I asked.

‘Lasagne,’ Mum said. ‘Carl made a couple of trays and froze them before we moved, so we’d have something ready on our first night.’ Mum looked all goo-goo eyed at Carl, as though he were the cleverest man on earth, and Carl looked as if he agreed with Mum wholeheartedly.

‘Yep – just need to make a salad,’ he said.

Then they let us in on the news that although they’d ordered our new beds weeks ago, the beds weren’t going to make it in time for our first night.

‘It’s not so bad,’ said Carl. ‘You guys can set up camp in the games room. It will be a good opportunity to get to know all the new noises and creaks the house makes.’

‘Dad, why is it called a games room when there are no games in it?’ asked Saskia.

‘There used to be a big billiard table,’ said Mum. ‘But Granny sold it when
you-know-who
went away.’ (I think Mum was referring to Grandpa Henry.)

‘Oh,’ said Saskia. ‘That’s a shame.’

‘So,’ said Carl, ‘have you three come to any kind of
arrangement about which bedrooms you’d like? I presume you all want to sleep upstairs?’

‘Mum, when is the mean old dude in the cottage moving out?’ I asked, hoping the precookeds weren’t reading my mind as I thought about myself all tucked up in my new double bed up in the turret.

‘His name is Settimio, Sunny,’ said Mum, taking the newspaper wrapping off some wine glasses.

‘Whatever. Why is he still here? Is it just because he can’t move out till his leg gets better?’

Mum looked me straight in the eye. ‘Settimio isn’t going to be moving out I’m afraid, Sunny. Your grandmother gave him the cottage. He was her gardener for over forty years, you know. They were dear old friends. And it was Settimio, actually, who found Granny Carmelene the day she died, and phoned to let us know.’

‘This is a disaster!’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mum?’

‘I’m sure you kids will soon get to know him,’ said Carl. ‘But maybe, for a little while, it might be worth keeping out of his way.’

‘You know, Carl,’ said Mum. ‘I think we should just put all this stuff up in the attic. There’s not one thing that this kitchen hasn’t already got.’

‘Sure, darl. I’m making a pile in the games room for attic-bound objects. Lyall, do us a favour and put these things in there, will you?’

‘Sure, Dad,’ said Lyall.

‘And Sunny,’ continued Carl. ‘For the winter months at least, your job is to make sure there’s plenty of firewood in the boxes in the library. You know where to get the wood from? There’s a woodpile down near—’

‘Near Settimio’s! You just finished telling me to stay away from him! You guys are so confusing. It’s no wonder the kids of today have issues.’

‘Come on, Sunny,’ said Carl. ‘I said keep out of his way, which ultimately means keeping Willow from annoying him. She’s not the easiest dog, now is she?’

Willow, asleep on the floor next to the heating panel, lifted her head momentarily when she heard Carl say her name.

‘It’s okay, Willow,’ I said. ‘I’m on your side.’

Granny Carmelene’s kitchen had a dishwasher. (Not like at our old place, where the dishwasher happened to be me.) And there was a pantry you could walk right into, lined with jars of yummy preserved fruity things that hopefully we’d be having with ice-cream. Seriously, the pantry was so well stocked that if there ever were some type of war or famine we could survive for at least ten years without ever needing to leave the house.

I moved a few things around to make a good spot for Willow’s big tin of dog pellets, then I helped Mum make
a dressing for the salad, and even got to be the first one to use Granny Carmelene’s whiz-bang salad spinner.

All without feeling the slightest bit sad. I had to hand it to Bruce and Terry. They really were top-rate bouncers.

I remembered the day Granny Carmelene and I had tea by the river, and that made me think of when I wagged school and Granny Carmelene and I had lunch at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms. But I didn’t get
sad
one bit.

I just thought about the chocolate eclairs and the chilled chicken sandwiches and how Granny Carmelene let me go to the spell shop too.

All that got me thinking about Bruce and Terry. If they were that good, maybe they could also do something about Settimio.

‘
Bags the turret
bedroom!
Keepings off!’
Lyall yelled the next afternoon as soon as he saw our beds had been delivered.

We’d just got home from our first day of catching buses all the way across town to school. Before I could even yell out,
As if!
Saskia burst through the door too, and I nearly collided with her as I flew up the stairs two at a time.

Unfortunately for Willow, Mum stopped her from following us. Mum was talking about making upstairs a no-go zone for dogs (which we all knew would never work, but we had to let her at least try and then fail).

‘Come on guys,’ shouted Carl, as Saskia thumped up the stairs behind me. ‘Remember what I said about seeing if you can come to some sort of
mutual
agreement!’

To be honest (and I do
try
to be honest these days), I felt like I
deserved
first choice of bedrooms. I mean, Granny Carmelene was
my
flesh and blood grandmother after all. Lyall and Saskia had never even met her. And if it wasn’t for their dad latching onto my mum, and them being all tragically in love, and us becoming all modern and blended, Lyall and Saskia would still be living at their Mum’s place, and I wouldn’t have to be
one bit
community minded.

Luckily, I had a plan to make sure that everyone mutually agreed with me. Have you ever heard of Reverse Psychology? It’s all about acting as though you’re taking a stance about a particular something, while knowing that by
pretending,
you’ll be actually encouraging another person (in this case, Lyall), to take the
opposite
stance. I could give you lots of impressive examples of Reverse Psychology but that would mean I’d be getting off the point so if you’re really interested, try googling Tom Sawyer and see how he got all his friends to paint a fence.

I had to restrain myself from racing up into the turret after Lyall (because a key factor to being successful at Reverse Psychology is
nonchalance,
which basically means looking as though you don’t really care – kind of like how Claud behaves when she likes a boy, not to mention her fake laughing). So I stopped on the second floor. Saskia walked into the big bedroom next to Granny Carmelene’s old room. (Nobody was allowed to have Granny’s room; it
was going to be for guests, once we’d sorted it out.)

‘I just
love
this room,’ I said (white lie), standing by the window. ‘Imagine waking up every morning and looking out at all those roses.’

‘Me too,’ said Saskia. ‘This room is my absolute
favourite.
’

‘Oh, really?’ I said in a despondent way, looking disappointed. ‘I kind of think it’s a bit grown-up for you. And not very
arty,
if you know what I mean.’

Lyall burst through the door. ‘Yep, the turret is definitely the room for me.’ he said. ‘It’s a boy thing.’

‘That’s not fair!’ whined Saskia. ‘I might want the turret, or Sunny might. You got the best room at Mum’s!’ Saskia looked to me to back her up.

But instead I said, ‘It’s the perfect room for you, Lyall. Besides, I’d be too freaked out to sleep up there. Probably wouldn’t get any sleep at all.’

‘Why?’ asked Lyall, still puffing.

‘Yeah, Sunny,’ said Saskia. ‘
Why
?’

‘Oh nothing,’ I said, in my best
nonchalant
voice. ‘Just something Granny Carmelene told me, but it’s probably not true. Anyway, all old houses have those freaky stories. Especially houses like this one, you know, with portraits that talk and all.’

‘Eeew! Don’t tell me any freaky stories. I want
this
room,’ said Saskia, blocking her ears. ‘I don’t care if it’s not arty.’

Lyall and I headed for the turret.

‘Tell me, Sunny,’ he said, as we made our way up the stairs. ‘What did Granny Carmelene say to you about the turret room?’

I took my time to answer him, peering through the telescope and aiming it towards the high branches of the cypress tree.

‘Tell me, Sunny!’

‘Sorry? This thing sure is difficult to focus.’

‘The
story,
Sunny. What did she tell you?’

‘Oh, that.’ I said turning away from the telescope to face Lyall. I dropped my voice down to a near whisper and leant in close. ‘
Bats,
Lyall. That’d be the story about
bats.’

Lyall looked slightly disappointed.

‘Apparently they circle the turret at night. Granny said they’ve even been known to smash through the windows. I guess ’cos they’re in search of
blood.
’

‘Get real, Sunny! We’ve got fruit bats in Australia. They’re not after blood.’

My nose was practically touching Lyall’s. ‘You just don’t get it, do you, Lyall? They’re called
fruit
bats because they can smell the fruit
in your blood.
So you accidentally eat a few too many dried apricots, or you have a bit too much pineapple on your Hawaiian, maybe even just a bit too much juice … I tell you at
any
moment in the middle of the night a freaking
bat
could smash through your bedroom window. Not that it would effect you though,
Lyall. You hardly eat much fruit these days. You should
definitely
have the turret. I’m just letting you in on the deal, okay? Don’t complain when it actually happens.’ I pointed my finger at him, just like Terry does.

‘
As if,
Sunny! What do you take me for?’ said Lyall, holding his ground. ‘Next thing you’ll be telling me the word
gullible
has been taken out of the English dictionary.’

‘
Really
? Has it?’ I asked. ‘Who told you that?’

Lyall laughed hysterically, and even punched my arm.

‘Yeah right, Sunny! Talk about
gullible
!’

‘I do believe we’re having our first fight, Lyall,’ I said, straight faced, to conceal my embarrassment. I held onto the throb in my arm where he had hit me, hoping my gullibility wouldn’t affect this most critical stage of Reverse Psychology. ‘Maybe you’d like to punch my other arm too, Lyall?’ I said, hoping a little more nonchalance would get us back on track.

‘What’s so funny?’ yelled Saskia from downstairs, which was perfect timing as I needed a reason to casually leave.

‘I’ll be there in a sec, Saskia!’ I shouted back. You see, I was about to implement the
Walk Away,
which is the absolute key to making Reverse Psychology a success. Mind you, the Walk Away isn’t easy. It takes solid commitment, because no matter how badly you might want something, you have to have the strength (and nonchalance) to simply turn your back and walk away.