by Fleur Beale
Cat made us say it again in Portuguese. ‘And we’ll sit on the bus,’ Davey said, ‘and we’ll talk in Portuguese and everyone will look at us. It’ll be cool.’
So we did, and it was. So were the houses we made, and the shops. We put newspaper on the floor of the garage and got to work. We learnt the words for the colours while we did it.
We lined all our houses up where they wouldn’t get squashed when Maria and Lucas came home.
Every day when she got home, Maria made me say the reading thing. Then we had a cup of tea and chatted in Portuguese. On the last Friday when she made me say it, I said, ‘Maria, I have something to tell you. It really isn’t a big deal any more. I don’t feel ashamed now. It’s just how things are. I’ll cope with it.’
She threw her arms around me and cheered.
I said, ‘Obrigada, Maria. Obrigada.’
Davey and I walked home. I was happy. Maria wanted me to pick Cat up after school each day and then walk home from our house with her at four. ‘We’ll sit and talk in Portuguese for half an hour each day,’ she said. And she insisted on paying me for picking Cat up.
My Brazil account was growing. Maria said they’d be back home in Brazil by the next April and that I was to come and stay with them. ‘It will make us very happy.’
That was good. But I didn’t seem to be able to make Mum happy. She tried to smile. She tried to be interested in what I was doing, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t say anything about my room. She never laughed now. She wrote to Max every two or three days. He didn’t reply. Calvin and I worried about her, but she just shrugged. ‘I’m okay. Leave me alone.’
During the first week of school, her work went on strike. I thought that would totally break her, but instead, it perked her up. She threw herself into organising for the union. She stood on picket lines. She was interviewed on radio and on telly. We were proud of her. She spoke brilliantly.
But altogether she lost a week’s pay. Then, the day the strike ended, the car broke down. It cost a thousand dollars to get it fixed. Mum got a ride to work while it was in the garage but she couldn’t do that all the time. ‘I should get a job in Napier,’ she said. ‘I’m sick of the hospital, and it’s a drag having to drive to Hastings every day.’
But for now, she needed the car.
They went to the bank and got a loan.
Autumn faded into winter. Davey, Cat and I drank hot chocolate when we got home from school these days. Maria and I talked about snow, ice and cold. She gave me story CDs. ‘These are children’s stories we brought with us for Catarina. They are simple. Take the books too and the pictures will help you understand.’
The next day, we talked about the story I’d listened to. At the end of May, she said, ‘You are learning quickly, Ruby. You’ve got a good brain.’ She never missed a chance to tell me I was clever, smart and brainy. I felt clever, smart and brainy in her house.
Life in our house was much the same. Mum didn’t talk about Max often, but she kept writing to him. He hadn’t contacted her at all, except for the call to say he’d arrived. I refused to think about him.
His birthday was in June. Mum went into overdrive. She bought presents. She bought a huge card that sang Happy birthday when you opened it. She made Theo and Davey make him cards. ‘Ruby, you must get him a present. You can afford it with all the money you’re earning.’
She’d never asked what I wanted to do with my money. I shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ It wasn’t worth a fight. I took Cat and Davey into town to the secondhand bookshop. I bought him the first Harry Potter. It was cheap, it looked almost new, but I didn’t care if it had half the pages missing, or that he had probably read it. I hoped he had. I also found six fashion magazines. They were quite recent ones.
Mum posted the whole lot a week before his birthday. He didn’t ring, he didn’t write. Why did she expect anything different?
We had exams in the last week of June. The teachers kept telling us to study. They got manic about it during the week before. ‘It’s okay for you guys,’ I moaned to the girls. ‘You can study.’ Nobody ever explained to me how I was meant to do it.
‘At least you’ve got a cast-iron excuse,’ Carly said. ‘It’s the pits at my house — Mum nags, Dad yells. Jasmine swans around telling me how hard she worked when she was my age. Yeah, right!’
‘We all have our crosses to bear,’ said Tia — crossing her eyes.
‘It’s boring,’ Megan sighed. ‘And I hate it. But the olds have promised they’ll give me a hundred bucks for my Brazil fund for every subject I do well in.’
The bell went, but on the way into class, I had a blindingly brilliant idea. ‘Hey, guys! Listen — what if you all come over to my house on Saturday. Bring your books. You can read stuff to me. We’ll talk about it, and that way we’ll all revise it.’ I held my breath, scared they’d yell at me.
But Megan said, ‘That would be fantastic. I’m in.’
Carly shrugged. ‘Might as well. It’ll be better than being at home.’
‘Good,’ said Tia. ‘Aaron sent me a text. Wants me to go to his house to study.’ She keyed in a text as she spoke and read it out. ‘No, sorry. Have other plans.’
Carly grinned. ‘My bet is he gets dumped before the end of the weekend.’
She lost that bet. Tia dumped him between English and options.
Mum was surprised when I told her the girls were coming over to study. But she smiled and said, ‘That’s good, Ruby. How about I make lasagne for lunch for you all?’
I hugged her. Things were looking up.
Chapter Nineteen
My first exam was on the same day as Max’s birthday. When I got home from work in the morning Mum didn’t say anything about the exams. She started right in on the Max thing. Did I think she should phone him? Would Hayden do something special for him? She yelled for Theo, then said, ‘I only hope he’s going to a good school. It’s so important for him to get his education.’
Yeah.
She forgot to wish me luck.
I did the morning chores, dropped Davey at school and went to sit my English exam. I had a reader–writer and I had to go to the small office in the admin block. How to feel special in one easy lesson.
That exam was a struggle. But I thought I did better than the last time because I wasn’t scared to ask Mr Webb, my reader–writer, to read things several times until I understood.
Science was in the afternoon. Mr Webb pretended to roll up his sleeves. ‘Okay, Ruby — here we go again. Let’s blast off.’
When we finished, he took my papers and grinned at me. ‘You got about sixty per cent of that correct. Well done, Ruby.’
My mouth was still hanging open when he left.
We had maths the next day, and social studies in the afternoon. According to Mr Webb, I got about seventy per cent right for maths, but he said he hadn’t a clue about the social studies. I didn’t believe him. He’d been a school principal before he retired. He was clever — and nice.
We had health on Wednesday morning and option exams in the afternoon. I don’t think Mr Webb understood much of the fabric exam. My other option was art, and we didn’t have to do an exam for that.
I did think I’d done better in these exams, but not as well as Mr Webb said. We wouldn’t get the results back until after the holidays.
On the last day of term, our social studies teacher threw a real holiday-wrecker at us. ‘Okay, class. Your homework over the holidays …’ she paused while we groaned, ‘… is to organise your work-shadowing for next term.’ She wrote the date on the board for the day we would have to spend in a workplace. It was supposed to be somewhere we wanted to work when we left school.
I had a policy of never thinking about what I’d do when I left school. The choices weren’t great for a girl who couldn’t read or write. Mum expected me to work as a cleaner or a food worker at the hospital like she did. Calvin said I was so good with children — maybe I could work in early child care. But even if I wanted to
, I still wouldn’t be able to do the exams.
We talked about it for the rest of the period. Everybody seemed to know what they wanted to do, although Tom said he wanted to be a professional game-player and the only place he needed to go to find out about that was his own computer. Miss Harris said, ‘Since you know so much about it already, Tom, you are to explore something else, thank you.’
Tia wanted to go to the X-ray department at the hospital. ‘I like bones,’ she said.
Megan wanted to go to a hair salon. ‘I want to train at the best salon I can. Then I’m going to travel the world and work at the same time.’
I thought Carly was having us on: ‘I’m going to a farm. One of the big ones up the Taihape road.’
‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Tia scoffed. ‘They have to get up early on farms, girl!’
Carly wasn’t known for getting out of bed early.
Wiremu was tossing up between physiotherapy, sports reporting and movie production.
I kept quiet and hoped nobody would ask me what I wanted to do.
On Saturday I talked to Mum about it. She hugged me and said, ‘Ruby, darling, there’s not a lot out there for a girl like you. It’ll be hard, but why don’t you try a clothes shop? You like fashion.’
Yes, I did. But I didn’t want to sell clothes. I could see what would happen: Mrs A comes in. She’s sixty. She tries on a dress that doesn’t do sixty. She loves it. It’s expensive — say five hundred dollars. She smiles at me and says, ‘Isn’t this gorgeous! Now, dear, tell me the truth — does my bum look big in it?’
I would smile and say, ‘Mrs A — it isn’t your bum. It’s your saggy arms, your scrawny neck. Your fat knees. You’re showing way too much skin, Mrs A. Don’t buy it.’
She’d walk out in a snit. The boss would yell at me. Then she’d fire me. And anyway, girls in shops needed to read stuff on the computers. They needed to write down names and addresses.
Calvin said, ‘Ruby — aim for the stars. Don’t settle for the obvious.’ Working with Mum as a cleaner was the obvious. ‘Don’t forget that computers can talk these days.’ He smiled at me and left. He was going to see about a weekend job pumping gas to earn some extra money.
Theo cried and wanted to go too. Mum said it was just till we caught up a bit with the money. Theo still cried.
I cleaned Mr Vine’s floor on Monday morning. In between the sweeping and the mopping, I made one of those important promises. I would go somewhere good for work-shadowing. But where?
Davey and I walked round to Maria’s house. Cat tore out to meet us. ‘Ruby! Mama says we can go on the steam train. But only if you take us. Will you, Ruby? Please!’
She spoke quickly — all in Portuguese. I understood every word. ‘I’d love to go on a steam train. Is it today?’
Maria kissed me on both cheeks. She’d told me it was the Brazilian way. ‘No, not till next week. We booked tickets just in case — but are you sure? It’ll be a long day. The train goes from Napier to Gisborne and back.’
‘I’m sure. It’ll be an adventure.’ I’d never been to Gisborne.
Davey couldn’t speak. He gasped and his eyes shone. ‘Will I be able to drive it?’
It didn’t upset him when we told him he wouldn’t be able to.
The weather was wet for most of the holidays. All the time, the work-shadowing hung over my head. Where could I go? What could I do?
We watched Fifi and made insects from egg cartons. The next week, she made face masks from paper plates. Cat threw hers down when she finished it. ‘It’s stupid. It’s not a proper mask.’
Well, it wasn’t like the ones hanging on the walls of her house, but she’d had fun making it. I had too. I liked making things. Could I do a work placement where I got to make things?
The train ride was on the last day of the holidays. We’d have to be at the station by 7.30. I told Mr Vine I couldn’t work that day. He moaned. ‘Typical bloody kid! Unreliable. Swanning off when it suits you.’
I smiled at him. ‘Feel free to replace me.’
Lucas took the three of us to the station. ‘I wish I could go too.’ He handed me a camera. ‘Can you take lots of photos, Ruby?’ He showed me how to work it. ‘I’d like one of the railway line where it goes across Gisborne airport.’
We boarded the train. Lucas handed me the picnic basket Maria had packed. ‘Have fun!’
Cat loved every second of the trip — for the first half hour. Then she wanted to go home — right now. Davey yelled at her. ‘You’re stupid! Trains are not boring!’
Oh, fantastic. I told them both to be quiet. I said, ‘Cat — find something out the window and tell me the Portuguese word for it.’
She stuck out her lip. ‘No. Want to go home.’
Believe me, chicken — I’d send you home right now. If I could.
An old man, across from us, bowed to me. ‘I, too, am not so fond of long journeys.’ He smiled at me and took no notice of Cat or Davey. ‘I always bring my paper with me. Look.’ He took something out of his bag. It was a square of blue paper.
‘Stupid,’ said Cat.
I spoke to her in Portuguese. ‘Please be quiet, Cat. I want to listen to the man.’
Davey stayed glued to the window, watching the steam fly back.
The old man began folding the paper. He made a box and gave it to me. ‘Would you like to make one? It is too difficult for the little girl.’
Cat snarled, ‘It is not. You’re stupid.’ Luckily, she spoke in Portuguese.
The old man’s eyes twinkled. ‘You speak English very well. Where do you come from?’ He looked at me, not Cat.
I smiled back. ‘I’m a New Zealander. But Cat isn’t. She comes from …’
‘I will say!’ Cat said. She glared at him. ‘I come from Brazil. My name is Catarina.’
He bowed. ‘Greetings, Catarina. My name is Ishi. I come from Japan.’
‘I can so make a box,’ she said. ‘Show me.’
Before Mr Ishi could say anything, I said, ‘Cat — you will ask again. And be polite this time.’
She eyed me and I could see her tossing up whether to do as she was told. I eyed her right back. She’d better.
She gave in with one of her sunnier smiles. ‘Please, Mr Ishi, will you show me how to make the box?’
He showed us both. ‘Thank you, Mr Ishi. Thank you,’ I said.
He bowed again, and his eyes twinkled. ‘You are most welcome, Miss Ruby.’
He gave Cat another sheet. She made a box without his help. He gave her three more sheets in different colours. She made a pink box. Then she opened the picnic basket, took out a mandarin and put it into the box. ‘For you, Mr Ishi.’ She bowed to him.
She made boxes all the way to Gisborne.
Davey didn’t move from the window once.
Mr Ishi was the kindest man in the world. But he wasn’t coming back on the train.
We had two hours in Gisborne. We spent it running as fast as we could along the streets. I had a plan: make Cat so tired she’d sleep all the way home.
It mostly worked, but I wasn’t sorry when the train gave a final blast on the whistle and we came into Napier.
Lucas met us and I gave him the camera. He swung Cat into the air. ‘Was that exciting, my darling? Did you love it?’
‘Stupid,’ she said.
He put her down and pulled a face. ‘Oh dear! I’m so sorry, Ruby! Was it a dreadful day?’
I told him I’d forgotten to take the photo of the railway line going through the airport. And I told him about Mr Ishi, the boxes and the races in Gisborne. I smiled at him. ‘Mr Ishi is a saint.’
Lucas glanced at his daughter. ‘The same cannot be said for certain other people. I’m glad you can still smile, Ruby.’
It hadn’t been the best day of the holidays. But we all survived. And I’d been to Gisborne.
Chapter Twenty
School started again. I hadn’t seen Tia all holidays. ‘How was Queenstown?’ I asked. We walked to sc
hool — it was easier to talk that way.
‘Fun. Cold. The winter festival — the best fun.’
Hmm, possibly better than going to Gisborne on a steam train with a grumpy child.
Megan had been away too. ‘Went to New Plymouth. It rained.’
Carly had worked at the old people’s home her aunt owned. ‘Not what I want to do when I leave school.’
Ah yes. The work thing.
We got our exams back. Every single one of my papers had Well done, Ruby. A great improvement, or a comment like that. Tia read each one to me with a huge grin on her face.
Miss Harris told us to have our work placements sorted by Wednesday. Tia asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Dunno.’
I showed Mum my exam papers that night. She was pleased — gave me a hug — but then she said, ‘It’s such a pity about the reading, Ruby. You’d be able to be anything you wanted if it wasn’t for that.’
Thanks, Mum.
Tuesday came and I still had no work placement. In the end, I asked the dressmaker next door if I could work with her for the day. She made wedding gowns. It could be okay.
It wasn’t. She was nice enough, but she was stressed out. She had two weddings coming up on Saturday, and the brides kept changing their weight. One got skinny, the other got fatter. I wanted to tell her to swap the dresses over, but she looked too stressed to see the joke. She had me unpicking seams all day. ‘Ruby — you’re a blessing. If I get these finished, it’ll be because of you.’
She wanted me to go back for the rest of the week after school — in the evenings — any time I could. She’d pay me.
I said no. A girl can get tired of being a blessing.
At school we had to do a whole unit of work based on our placement. I did it as best I could, and thought about what I’d really like to do. In an ideal world.
I made a list: