A Boy Called Hope

by Lara Williamson

  “I’m glad you’re both home,” says Mum, entering the room and wiping her hands on a tea towel. “I’ve got news.”

  So you’ve pictured the perfect scene of family life. Now toss it from your mind, because when Mum offers us a gingerbread biscuit she’s baked we nearly choke on the overload of spices, and then a bit of tinsel falls off the mantelpiece and dangles into the fire and starts melting. Mum pulls it out again and begins whacking it with the tea towel. Small bits of charred tinsel and cotton float up into the air.

  “I wanted it to be special,” says Mum, flopping back onto the sofa.

  “It is special,” I say, battering a stray frond of fiery tinsel with Grace’s rolled-up magazine. “Stand down, everyone. The emergency is over!”

  “Earlier today I told you I had a hospital appointment.” Mum nibbles at another piece of gingerbread, only to fan her mouth and set the biscuit down again.

  Grace looks at me and I look at her.

  “All right, I can see I’ve kept you both waiting long enough. This is my news.” Mum reaches into her handbag and brings out a photograph. “As you can see,” she says, handing us the picture, “I’m having a…”

  “Prawn?” I stare at the curled-up shrimp.

  Turns out Mum is having a baby, not a prawn, although if you squint they could be one and the same thing. Apparently, its proper name is Little Dave. Seems Little Dave was a complete surprise, but a lovely one. Mum didn’t realize she was pregnant and that was why she’d felt sick for so long. She says things are going to have to change around this house – we’re going to have to tighten our belts a little bit (not that there is any chance of Mum tightening hers, judging by how much her stomach is expanding).

  “So you’re both having babies. Awkward,” I say, before engaging my brain. Mum’s mouth flies open and a missile of gingerbread lands on Grace’s cheek. Then Grace jumps up from her seat and starts screeching. Turns out her horror is nothing to do with the gingerbread face mask and more to do with her thinking I’m an idiot. Spittle forms on her lips and her eyebrows thread together. The dog, sensing there is some sort of excitement in the living room, comes in, finds and eats some tinsel and then pukes on the carpet.

  “Stop that,” I shout as Charles Scallybones sniffs the sick and starts lapping it up. “You’ll get tinselitis.” This is my best joke ever but no one laughs.

  “I am not pregnant. Take that back.” Grace leans into my face and I shrink away. “What do you think this is: the immaculate conception?”

  “I found your pregnancy test in the bin.” I glare at her and she glares at me. It’s a Hope vs Hope face-off!

  Well, this is enough to send her into orbit on a supersonic rocket. One minute she’s glaring at me, the next she is bouncing off the walls, tearing at her ponytail and screaming that she doesn’t deserve this. Within three seconds she has reached the moon and orbited it a few times before landing back on the sofa and repeatedly banging her head with the cushions. On the last bash Mum clears her throat, possibly of ginger but who knows.

  “If you’re quite finished, Grace,” Mum says, “I think you can step away from the cushions. You could get ten years in jail for the death of soft furnishings.” She smiles, turns to me and her cheeks colour pink. “The pregnancy test was obviously mine.”

  At this point the penny drops, from the height of a skyscraper. Of course it belonged to Mum. How could I have been so stupid? Charles Scallybones saves the day by diverting attention away from me with a bad case of retching and yawning. Mum has to hurry him into the hallway with the aid of her big toe on his bum.

  When she returns she says, “Dan, I thought you knew it was my test because you sent me a text.” Mum shrugs. “I thought you texting me was your way of telling me you’d discovered the truth. I didn’t press you on it because I thought you needed time to get your head around it. I was certain you’d talk to me when you were ready.”

  “I didn’t send the text…” I reply. “It was Charles Scallybones.”

  The dog wanders back into the living room with a tinsel moustache and sick trailing from his velvety muzzle. He looks at us as if to say: Wha?

  “Oh great!” wails Grace. “Blame it on the dog. This whole house is crazy. I am an island of normality in an ocean of insanity.” When Grace’s face goes red as a baboon’s bottom, I think that’s the exact moment when everything becomes clear. She says, “Ohmigod! Stan broke up with me because you told him I was having a baby. All his stupid comments about me being tied up in nine months make sense now. I thought he’d lost the plot. But no, it was all because my brother is stupid and told him I was pregnant!”

  “I didn’t tell him,” I stammer. “It was Kevin Cummings.”

  Grace is back in orbit. “Ohmiactualgod! You told Kevin Cummings!”

  “Okay, okay.” Mum holds her hands up. “Enough. We’ve all made mistakes and we’re big enough to get over them. Daniel, please tell Grace you’re sorry.”

  When I tell her I’m sorry Grace says hell would need to freeze over before my apology is accepted. Well, I think the devil must be sliding down the frozen hills of hell on a plastic bag at this moment, because when Mum mentions “losing pocket money” suddenly the apology is good enough. The thought of not being able to afford a new lash-lengthening mascara is clearly too much for Grace. From this point on though, I need to keep my eye on her, because Grace is giving me a look that tells me she’s about to assassinate someone. Someone being me.

  When Charles Scallybones licks Mum in the face and leaves some tinsel stuck to her lip gloss, it’s the last straw. “Out,” she squeals, dragging him into the kitchen with a warning to us not to kill each other before she gets back.

  “As if I’d waste my time and energy on you,” snaps Grace, pulling at the fringing on the cushions.

  “It was a mistake,” I say.

  “You’re a mistake. Mum having Big Dave’s baby is a mistake. It’s all a mistake,” Grace says. “Now I don’t know whether to show Mum the dressing gown or not. I’ve been waiting for the right moment but Mum being pregnant makes it more complicated.” Grace gets up from the sofa and pats her stomach and says, “By the way, on which planet can a girl as thin as me be pregnant?”

  Thankfully, before I can answer, I’m interrupted by Charles Scallybones barfing up something in the kitchen and Mum shouting, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this dog’s stomach is no stronger than tracing paper.”

  “Looks like a job for you.” Grace folds her arms, satisfied.

  Dog sick is a funny thing. Considering dogs are only meant to eat dog food, you’d expect it to be brown and lumpy in the way a human always brings up carrots. But Charles Scallybones’s sick is full of hidden treasure. Once I found one of my superhero toys, a bit of Grace’s thong and a rubber gherkin from his hamburger toy in there. But the best time of all was when he’d eaten sweet wrappers and I thought he was sicking up actual gold nuggets. Today, though, it’s just yellow foam, a few strands of silver tinsel and a tiny plastic reindeer that Mum uses to decorate the Christmas cake.

  “I think you’d better take the dog out for a walk before he does any more damage to the carpet,” says Mum. I nod as I give her back the reindeer.

  While taking Charles Scallybones for his nightly pee-a-thon I come up with my best thoughts yet. Firstly, I’m going to be a big brother, therefore I will do the job well. (What I won’t do is change nappies or handle diarrhoea of any description, although the only description is probably brown and runny.)

  The second thought I have is about Christopher. Of course, it could be a bit early to say this, but I think we’re back to being friends. The downside is I’ve lost Jo along the way. I’m not proud of the way I spoke to her, but I was confused. I need to think of a way we can start talking again. Tomorrow I’ll make it up to her, because I miss Jo and her stories about her religious collection. (This in itself is a miracle because I didn’t think it was possible to want to hear any more about her relics.)

  My third thought is a
bout Big Dave, and this is the most confusing of all. He’s invited me to his car workshop and said he’ll show me how to take apart an engine and put it back together. Even though I want to do this more than anything, Grace keeps giving me dirty looks. I don’t need a crystal ball to know this is about the silky dressing-gown fiasco. Grace won’t let Big Dave show us any kindness and if he does she attacks him with words. Occasionally, Big Dave looks like a melted rubber duck, but then he smiles as if Grace isn’t the meanest person in the world. Which we all know she is.

  Charles Scallybones suddenly changes course. Seems he’s on a mission to go straight to the scout hut and pee there first. This time the door is closed but I can still hear a grunting contest going on inside. I lift Charles Scallybones up on top of an old discarded shopping trolley from Aladdin’s and climb up after him. We peer in the window and see everyone in the tae kwon do class is bent over, touching their toes. So I blow on the glass and write 0’1134 which is HELLO when you type it on an upside down calculator. The woman shouts out about perseverance and how it means having patience. When Christopher sees me, he sticks his hand up and I see him leave the hall.

  “Oi, Dan.” Christopher opens the door and peeps out. “I can’t talk long because she thinks I’m in the toilet. We’re getting ready for our grading.”

  “Grading sounds like doing tests at school, only you’re in your pyjamas.”

  “Dobok!” says Christopher.

  “Bless you.” I laugh but Christopher doesn’t because the woman is screaming from inside the hut that integrity is the quality of being honest and if you say you’re going to the toilet then your bowels need to be getting a workout.

  “Look, I’ve got to go now,” says Christopher. “She’s onto me. She’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

  “And in the toilet bowl, by the sounds of it,” I say.

  “Yeah, you’re not wrong. But I just wanted to let you know, I’ve been practising on the guitar like we agreed. You’re right about sneaking them backstage. It’s a great idea to make the time go quicker. In fact, it’s even better than getting up onstage and pretending to be a hero. Who wants to do that anyway?”

  “Not me,” I reply, as the tae kwon do lady shouts Christopher’s name. He scarpers and I blow some more steam on the window and write 1134 40 before climbing down from the trolley.

  When I walk away, a cold mist settles inside my chest. My thoughts have turned to Dad again. I’ve grown up a lot since those first emails I sent. I’ve met his other son and not given him a knuckle sandwich for taking my dad. I’ve been to Dad’s house and work. Slowly, I’m fitting into his life. Charles Scallybones stops to do pee number ten on Mrs Nunkoo’s wall. As the moon, like a white marble, rolls out from behind a cloud, I have another thought. Even though I’ve grown up a bit, I’m still the same old Dan Hope – but is he the same old Dad?

  Jo looks surprised when I tell her to open her hand. “Don’t even think about putting something horrible in there,” she warns.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nice.” I drop the medal onto her palm. “Here, you’ve got Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows back because I can tell you’re sad.”

  Jo doesn’t look all that impressed. “This is the second time you’ve tried to give me it back.”

  “Second time lucky,” I reply.

  “It’s third time lucky. So you’re all better now?” Jo gives me a stare that would crack a mirror.

  I shuffle about a bit under her gaze. “I’ve got no worries about anything, if that’s what you mean. Look at me: healed. Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows did the trick. Thanks for lending it to me.”

  “This is definitely a miracle because it usually takes Saint Gabriel longer than this. In fact, most people have to go through total and utter sadness before they can see the light. That’s what it says in my saint book. But if you’re saying you’re through all that, then brilliant.”

  “Um…yeah. I think that’s what I’m saying.”

  “It’s just that Saint Gabriel was a hero. Not in the usual superhero way of winning battles against his enemies, but because of self-conquest. He was a hero because he conquered himself. So, I think if you truly believe in Saint Gabriel, he will heal you by helping you learn to heal yourself.” On that note, Jo squeezes the medal in her hand and turns. “But if you’re healed now…” The words hang in the air as she walks across the playground.

  “Jo,” I puff, running after her, “I’m sorry but I need the medal back. I gave it back too soon. And I’m sorry for not believing in you too.”

  Jo turns and hands it to me, then raps me on the head as if she’s at the back of a wardrobe, checking for a magical kingdom. “I knew Dan Hope was still in there and I knew I could still reach him. Want to come over to mine one day soon? I could show you my entire collection of colour-coordinated rosary beads.” Jo smiles at me, drawing her lips right back to her ears.

  “Could Christopher come?” I spy him skulking about by the assembly hall and wave him over.

  “Dan says you should join us after school one day. I’m showing off my religious collection, if you’re interested?” says Jo.

  Christopher nods and goes so red he is almost a candidate for spontaneous human combustion. That’s when I leave them together to talk, because my name isn’t Dan Gooseberry Hope. As I make my way to the wall at the far end of the playground, I stare at the medal of Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows. “How are you going to help me find the answers when I don’t even know what the questions are?”

  Sunlight glints on Saint Gabriel and I swear he almost glows.

  Big Dave sets ricepaper, glue, birthday candles and a thin bamboo hoop in front of me. He goes all mysterious when I ask if it’s his birthday. Why else would we need birthday candles? Carefully he cuts four shapes from the thin ricepaper and glues the edges, before joining them together.

  “We’ve got to wait until it dries.” Big Dave winks and wanders into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  I sit at the table for ages, just staring. In fact, I think I actually watch the glue dry. As soon as it’s dry I shout at Big Dave to come back and finish whatever it is he’s making. All the while Big Dave works he doesn’t say a word about what he’s doing and why. Instead, I help when asked and watch when I’m not.

  “It’s a balloon,” I yell as Big Dave attaches the bamboo hoop to the bottom of the ricepaper shell.

  “No, it’s better than that,” replies Big Dave. “It’s a sky lantern.” I whoop when I realize we’re going out to fly it. “Bring that dog of yours, because this is going to be fun,” says Big Dave, handing me the lantern.

  The sky is studded with stars and our breath rises into the night air. Big Dave leads the way, stalking through the estate and then through the scrubby land towards Skateboarding Hill. Beyond it I can see the wood and I know that Dad’s house is further on, just through the trees. This time I don’t feel the urge to go lurking in his garden. Instead I carry the paper lantern carefully in my hands as though it was a tiny kitten with soft pink pompom paws. There’s no place in the world I’d rather be at this moment than flying a lantern into the December sky with Big Dave.

  “My dad showed me how to make and fly these lanterns,” says Big Dave, petting Charles Scallybones on the head. “And now I’m showing you. My dad was always doing stuff with me. We made lanterns, learned about the planets, took apart engines and that’s where I got all my knowledge from. And I’ve tried to share that knowledge with Kit, but he’s interested in other things.”

  “When he gets older he might be interested,” I say.

  “I doubt it,” answers Big Dave, “but it doesn’t matter, because whatever makes him happy makes me happy. I’m going to bring him over to your house so you can all get to know one another. At the moment it’s difficult because Kit still needs time to adjust to all the changes in his life.”

  “So Kit finds change scary too?”

  “Yes, he does and things haven’t been easy this last year.” Big Da
ve smiles before adding, “But we’re a family and we get through it together.”

  There’s an awkward silence when I wonder if “family” translates into “wife”. And I want to ask him the truth but I can’t seem to find the words. I stare into the huge expanse of sky, my thoughts whirling inside my mind like snow trapped in a shaken globe.

  “Look,” says Big Dave, pointing into the sky, “there’s the Plough. Did you know it’s sometimes called the Butcher’s Cleaver or The Big Dipper?”

  I shake my head.

  “The skies are fascinating. That’s why I bought you the planets mobile.” Big Dave spins around with his arms outstretched until he’s dizzy and lands on his back like an upside down beetle. Laughing, he says, “Spin until you fall. Try it.”

  Round and round I go until I can’t stand any more and I stagger forwards and back and then land on the ground with the lantern in my hands. I’m breathless with laughter when I look up into the heavens. The sky is so enormous, so endless, that I feel tiny beneath it.

  Big Dave starts moving his legs and arms. “Look!” he says. “I’m walking among the stars. I bet you didn’t know you could do this. Quick, Dan, start moving or you’ll fall off the earth and get sucked into the galaxy.”

  There’s no question about it, Big Dave is wackadoodle. I pretend to walk while lying flat on my back. Every time I move my legs, Big Dave moves his faster. We start sky-running. My eyes focus on the brightest star, my legs cycling on an imaginary air bicycle. I work them harder until I feel the burn in my thighs. Big Dave’s legs move faster still and he’s punching his arms too. He says I’ll have to work harder if I want to catch him up. No one wants to lose the race through the stars. In the end Big Dave looks like his body is having a jerky spasm.

  “Oops, I’ve just stood on the Pole Star,” shouts Big Dave.

  I think for a moment. “Ouch! I’ve got a dead leg because I’ve tramped on the Butcher’s Cleaver.”