Sunny Days and Moon Cakes (3 page)

Before I got the chance to answer, Min said, “What? Of course we’re going. It’s gonna be amazing. Do you think everyone will look like us? Imagine if someone recognized us in the street or something. One of our old neighbours.”

Mum laughed. “It’s a huge place, not like Little Bird. That’s unlikely to happen, Min. Now, shush! Let Sunny speak.”

Mum and Dad were both looking at me, their eyes full of hope and expectation.

“Sunny?” Dad said. “What do you think? Are you excited? We can just go to Hong Kong if you like. We don’t have to visit your old home in Shenzhen or the orphanage. Or if you are really unhappy about going, we can stay at home. The tickets are refundable, so there’s no pressure on you.”

I took a deep breath and said, “Min’s right. It’ll be amazing. I can’t wait.”

You see, even though I’m scared, I do want to go to China, and not just because my family are so excited about the trip. I need to see if my vivid dreams of twisted trees and silky grey cats are real or just my imagination. And I’d like to show Min the park where we once played, if we can find it, and my old school. Maybe Min will start remembering things about China when we get there. It would be nice to have some memories in common.

But also, deep down, I’m hoping that something magical will happen in China. That somehow the trip will help me to stop worrying all the time. Then, when I come home to Little Bird, I’ll be able to talk freely. I’ll be me – happy, chatty Soon Yi – again.

Before dinner, I hear muffled voices coming from the floor below. After putting down my sketchbook, I jump off the window seat in the living room and carefully peel back the edge of the rug so I can peer through a crack in the old floorboards. The gap is so large that I can actually see Mum and Dad in the kitchen, standing in front of the Aga. Dad has his arm around Mum’s shoulders. Dad’s tall and Mum slots perfectly under his arm. They fit together like two pieces of Lego.

I know I shouldn’t spy on them, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been doing it for years.

As I watch, Mum rests her head on Dad’s shoulder. She sighs. “I’m just so worried about her.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “She’ll be OK.”

Mum lifts her head. “No, she won’t. Don’t you see? She’s thirteen. If she was going to grow out of her condition, it would have happened by now. She’s getting worse, not better. I feel so sorry for her. Imagine not being able to speak at your own birthday party!”

“I know it’s a long shot,” Dad says, “but maybe this new woman will have some answers about Sunny’s condition. She seems pretty sensible and she’s got to be more use than Doctor Hogan.” Dad gives a sniff. I don’t think he likes Doctor Hogan very much. “Have you told Sunny about her yet?”

No
, I think,
she hasn’t
. I bet “this new woman” is a new therapist. I pull a face as Mum says, “Not yet, but I will. Oh, Smiles, do you think she’ll be able to help Sunny? What kind of life will she have if she can’t speak to anyone? She’ll never go to college or have a boyfriend or anything like that, or even get a job. It’s so unfair. I just want her to be happy.”

“I know, Nadia. Me too.”

“I feel so helpless.” Mum starts crying and Dad holds her tight. I know he is upset too, though, and cross. He always wants to fix everything, to be in control. But there are some things that he can’t fix. Like me. Mum’s really upset and it’s all my fault.

“Let’s see how things go with this new specialist, love,” Dad says when Mum’s stopped crying. “But we may have to accept that Sunny’s life will always be a bit different. And it could be worse – at least she’s healthy. She has good friends in Mollie and Alanna, and she and Min adore each other. Would a quiet life on the island be so bad?”

“I suppose not,” Mum says, her voice still a bit hiccupy from crying. “I’m sorry. It’s just I love her so much. I want her to go to college, see the world, be happy…”

Dad strokes her hair. “I know you do, love. Me too. More than anything. But we need to take things day by day and try not to stress about the future. Once upon a time we thought we’d never have a family. And now we’re blessed with two beautiful daughters.”

“You’re right.” Mum wipes away the last of her tears. “We are lucky. I’m being silly. Do you remember the first time we saw them? Min was tiny and she was holding Sunny’s hand so tightly I thought she’d break it. Neither of them had a word of English.”

“And their faces when they saw the castle for the first time and realized this was their home!” Dad said.

“I wish we’d filmed it. They looked so surprised and so happy. It made my heart sing. Our own little family.” Mum smiles.

“Let’s not talk about this any more. Not tonight. I think I can hear—”

At that very moment Min bursts through the kitchen door, with Goldie trotting behind her. “Is dinner ready?” she asks. “I’m starving.”

“Min Sullivan, don’t be so rude,” Dad says. “Come here to me, Minnie Mouse.” As Mum turns away to dab her face with a tea towel – not that Min has noticed her wet cheeks or red eyes – Dad picks Min up and throws her in the air.

I shift the rug back over the crack in the floor, then creep over to the window seat and flop down, my thoughts racing. I wish I didn’t put my parents through so much.

On Saturday morning, we’re sitting at the table having our breakfast when Goldie pads into the kitchen with a dead mouse in his mouth.

“Yuck, Goldie,” Min says. “Dad, he’s got a mouse again.”

Mum gives an ear-splitting shriek and jumps onto the table, waving her hands in front of her face. “Get it out of here!” she screams. “Now!”

Dad laughs. “It’s dead, Nadia. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“You know I hate those things,” Mum says. “I’m not coming down until it’s outside and Goldie’s been washed.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Nadia,” Dad says, but he drags Goldie out by the collar. After a few minutes, once Mum’s absolutely sure Goldie’s outside and being cleaned with the hose, she climbs off the table and sits down. But she lifts her feet off the floor and tucks them under her bum.

“What’s a mouse phobia called, Mum?” Min asks.

“I don’t know – why?”

“No reason.” Min gives me a knowing look. “Does Dad have a phobia?” she asks. While she’s talking, I power up my laptop, which was at the far end of the table.

“No,” Mum says. “Although he thinks raisins are the devil’s food. He won’t eat anything with raisins in. And he hates cooked mushrooms and anything slimy. But they’re not phobias exactly.”

“I have arach—” Min breaks off and looks at me. “What’s it called again, Sunny?”

“Arachnophobia. And Mum’s is musophobia,” I say, reading off my computer screen.

“Everyone’s scared of something,” Mum says. I know she’s thinking about me and my “phobia”. But she doesn’t mention it. I actually did a search for that one too – glossophobia – fear of speaking.

“We have a visitor coming on Monday, Sunny,” she says, breaking into my thoughts. “Rosie Lee. She’s a speech therapist.”

I pull a face. So that’s the “new woman” they were talking about the other night. I wondered when they’d get round to telling me about her.

“I’ve talked to Rosie on the phone and she sounds really nice,” Mum says brightly. “I hope you’ll give her a chance.”

I try to say “Yes”, but I can’t. Just thinking about this stranger makes my throat go tight. So I nod instead. I’m ridiculous. Sunny Sullivan, the thirteen-year-old nodding freak.

On Monday morning, after she’s walked Min to school with Goldie, Mum comes home with Rosie Lee. Mum and I talked about Rosie’s visit more last night. Mum said she would be coming over on the morning ferry and would spend the day with us. I peer through one of the long arrow-slit windows in the living room and watch as Mum opens the front door and steps back to allow the woman in.

Rosie Lee doesn’t look like the other doctors and psychologists I’ve met. She’s younger, for a start, and she’s wearing a long stripy scarf that looks like she knitted it herself, with a denim jacket and red jeans. Most of my other doctors have worn suits. She has curly blonde hair down to her shoulders. I only have a few moments before Mum will call me down to meet her, so I back away from the window and take some deep breaths until I hear Mum’s footsteps on the stairs.

“Sunny,” she says, coming into the room, “Rosie is here. She’s in the kitchen. I thought we could make some fairy cakes together. Would you like that?”

I shrug. I’m too nervous to speak. But Mum understands. “Rosie’s worked with lots of children with your condition,” she says.

“She won’t think I’m weird, like Doctor Hogan does?” I whisper.

Mum colours a little. “Doctor Hogan never said that.”

“He said what I have is really rare.”

“Well, it might seem rare to Doctor Hogan, but Rosie’s different. This is her special area, and she really wants to help you.”

“OK. I’ll come and meet her.”

I follow Mum silently down the stairs and into the kitchen. My heart is pounding and my palms are sticky. Rosie is sitting at the kitchen table and she smiles at me. I stare down at the floor.

“You must be Sunny,” she says. “I’m Rosie.”

“Would you like some tea, Rosie?” Mum asks. “Or coffee? And then I thought we’d make some fairy cakes together. Sunny’s great at baking. She helps in the kitchen at the Songbird Cafe.”

“I’d love a cup of tea, please,” Rosie says. “And fairy cakes sound delicious. Is that the cafe down by the harbour? It looks lovely.” She has a nice voice, low and calm.

“That’s right,” Mum says. “Sunny, while I’m making the tea, Rosie’s going to talk to you for a few minutes. Maybe you could sit next to her?”

I nod and lift my gaze. Rosie is smiling at me. She has a really open, friendly face, with freckles across her nose. After taking a few deep breaths, I sit down beside her.

“There’s absolutely no pressure to speak today, Sunny,” Rosie says. “Your mum and dad have explained that you only talk to them and your sister. And only at home or where you feel safe, like in the car or a private room, is that right?”

I nod again.

“I’m a speech therapist,” she continues. “And you’re not to worry. It won’t be like this for ever – I promise. I’ve helped lots of children just like you who find speaking hard. Your parents said starting school on the island was difficult for you and that was when your problem first began. I’m not surprised. Schools are very different to home. And you hadn’t been speaking English very long, so that must have made it even harder. You were probably scared and worried about getting things mixed up. Is that right?”

I nod firmly. I found English really difficult at first and everything about school terrified me. On my first day, I was so worried about being separated from Mum and Dad and Min that I was shaking like a leaf. I was too scared to even ask to go to the toilet – I just couldn’t get the words out – so I wet myself. Lauren Cotter called me “Soggy Pants” from that moment on. She bullied me so badly, but I didn’t tell anyone except Min what was happening. And she told Mum. After that, Mum took me out of school and taught me herself.

Rosie leans towards me. “You try to speak, don’t you? But you get scared and your voice gets all caught up in your throat. Something’s stopping your voice coming out, isn’t it?” She touches her hand to her throat.

That’s it exactly! She really does get it. I nod again.

“Most people don’t understand, but I do,” she adds. “You know what your condition’s called, don’t you, Sunny? Selective mutism. It is unusual, but there are seven girls or boys just like you in every thousand. So you’re not alone.”

I give her a small smile. It makes me feel better knowing that it’s not just me.

Rosie smiles back. “That’s enough talking for the moment. Let’s make these famous fairy cakes your mum promised. We’re going to spend this morning getting to know each other a little better. I have some art books to show you once we’ve finished baking. You like art, don’t you?”

I give another nod.

“She’s brilliant at drawing,” Mum says, sliding a steaming mug of tea in front of Rosie and then sitting down at the table with her own.

“Thanks for the tea, Nadia.” Rosie smiles over at Mum. “And don’t worry, Sunny. Like now, I’ll be doing all the talking and your mum will stay in the room. And then after lunch we’ll do one final thing before I go down to the ferry – an exercise called sliding in. I’ll tell you more about it later. Is that OK?”

I nod again. I like the way she’s explaining everything to me. Knowing what to expect makes me less nervous. Goldie pads into the room then and Rosie reaches down and rubs him behind his ears – the way he likes it.

“Beautiful dog,” Rosie says. “You must love him, Sunny. What’s his name, Nadia?”

“Goldie,” Mum says. “And, yes, she’s mad about him. Sunny adores dogs. She had one in China called Puggy.”

I’m surprised that Mum remembers Puggy. I told her about him a long time ago. Puggy was small and black. When I sat at the table to draw, he would jump onto my knees and curl up, like a live hot-water bottle. His yap was high-pitched, almost squeaky. Papa hated it – “mouse-bark” he used to call it – but I thought it was very sweet. When Papa died, we had to give Puggy to our neighbour Mama Wei.

“We’re off to China in two weeks, in fact,” Mum says. “The trip is Sunny’s birthday present. She just turned thirteen.”

“Happy birthday, Sunny,” Rosie says. She looks at me for a moment. “China? It’s quite a long trip, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?”

I shrug and stare down at the table. Right now I’m more nervous about Rosie and what she might expect of me today. I reach down and stroke Goldie’s silky head.

“You’re very brave to go, Sunny,” Rosie says. “I’m sure it’ll be brilliant. I’ve always wanted to visit China. Will you show me the photos when you get back?”

I nod, my fingers resting on Goldie’s warm back.

“Would it be OK if Goldie stayed with us today?” Rosie asks Mum.

“Of course,” Mum replies. “I think Sunny would like that.”

Rosie takes a sip of her tea and then looks around the kitchen. “Amazing place you have here. Did you do it up yourselves?”