Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

‘We snowboard don’t we, Sunny?’ said Claud, butting in.

  Claud was going away for the holidays too. She and her brother Walter were booked in to some horse-riding camp. Even Buster was heading up north on a trip with his mum. Could this mean that my only company for the school hols was destined to be the precookeds? Just as Mrs Percival handed me a hot dog I lost my appetite.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, moving over to join the huddle by the heater and looking around for Buster in case I needed someone to eat my hot dog for me. Buster will eat practically anything.

  But then I remembered Finn, and the way he called me Sunny Hathaway, and how he had said to me on the bus, you’ll be hearing from me, and how I really hoped I would.

  At that moment I knew the pre-crush was official. After just two meetings. If that was the case, I’d have to get my head around ignoring him, becuase everyone knows it’s the first thing you do when you actually like someone.

  Buster ended up sleeping over as well as Claud. Mum and Carl made risotto and we hired a pile of DVDs for a movie night in the gameless games room. At least there was a TV in there now and Mum had bought some beanbags too, so it was kind of a rumpus room just for us kids.

  Buster was pretty quiet during dinner, but as soon as Mum and Carl had snuck off to the library he said, ‘Gee, Sunny, if I’d known your Granny was filthy rich I wouldn’t have cried so much at her funeral.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, Buster. Everyone knows money doesn’t really make people happy.’

  ‘Rich people sure look happy,’ he said. ‘What’s there to be unhappy about?’

  ‘Well, being rich didn’t prevent Granny Carmelene from having a big fat disease, Buster. Have you thought about that?’

  ‘I’d still rather be rich and sick than poor and sick, Sunny.’

  ‘How ’bout rich and dead, Buster? Do you really think being rich helps when you’re dead? You’re seriously deranged.’

  Claud gave me a crinkled look as if to say, Chill, Sunny, there’s no need to get so upset.

  But I was upset, and if I’d known Buster was going to make me have sad thoughts about Granny Carmelene, I never would have agreed to have him over. And where were Bruce and Terry when I needed them? I needed some Woe-Be-Gone grief repellent quick smart.

  ‘Does anyone want a hot chocolate?’ asked Saskia.

  I could tell she was looking for an excuse to leave the room, and Claud obviously had the same idea.

  ‘Yum,’ said Claud, ‘I’ll help you make it. Come on, Sunny. Show us where everything’s kept. You guys stay here. We’ll be back soon.’ Claud was acting all embarrassed, as if Buster’s stupid comments were somehow her fault, and once we were in the kitchen she said, ‘Sorry Sunny, it’s just that he’s—’

  ‘Forget it, Claud,’ I said, passing her the cocoa and the sugar from out of the pantry. ‘I’d rather talk about something else.’ That’s when I noticed Bruce and Terry standing in the shadows down the back of the pantry.

  ‘Psst! Close the door a minute, Sunny,’ Terry said.

  I flicked a glance over to Claud and Saskia, who were busy getting cups out and heating milk on the stove, and I quietly slid the door closed. Bruce held the can of grief repellent high above my head.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ he said, and I immediately felt the soothing mist settle over me. ‘Now, scram!’ he said, as Terry slid open the door for me.

  ‘Claud, did you know there’s a high chance I might be dyslexic?’ said Saskia, stirring the milk.

  Claud gave her the eyebrow. ‘Ah, no, Sunny didn’t tell me.’

  ‘It’s because I’m so good at art,’ said Saskia, as though it was the most obvious thing on earth. ‘Isn’t it, Sunny?’

  I was looking about for Granny’s old autotray (a trolley on wheels) so we could wheel our hot chocolates back and join the others.

  ‘Oh, there it is,’ I said, ignoring Saskia’s question and removing a pile of newspapers from the top of the trolley. ‘Did you put enough sugar in, Claud? That cocoa is bitter as.’ As I was taste-testing further with a teaspoon I realised just how potent Bruce and Terry’s grief repellent actually was. I was completely cured, I tell you. Cured.

  After the movie we all scrambled up to the turret. Claud and I were in my bed while Buster, Lyall and Saskia each had a sleeping bag and a sleeping mat and sardined themselves on the floor. Then we set about spooking ourselves with scary stories until Buster had to go and ruin it all by telling a true one. It was about two Goths on the Sandringham train and how one of them was propped up against the other one like she might be feeling sick or something, but it turned out the leaning over one was actually dead, and the holding-her-up one actually had a knife.

  Saskia started crying. ‘Now I’m never going to be able to catch a train again,’ she sobbed, and we all looked at Lyall as if to say, She’s your responsibility, dude.

  ‘Come on,’ said Lyall, ‘I’ll take you downstairs to Dad and Alex.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Buster. ‘I thought everyone had heard that one.’

  ‘I’m only nine, you know, Buster!’ Saskia yelled back at him on her way out. Then she started crying again. I could tell being only nine didn’t mean that much to Buster.

  ‘Talk about sensitive!’ he said to Claud, rolling his eyes.

  Talk about insensitive! I thought to myself.

  By the next afternoon I was a little ‘peopled out’. So it was perfect timing that I was heading off to Dad and Steph’s. Also, I couldn’t wait to see Flora. I really do miss her when I’m not around. Don’t get me wrong, I miss Dad and Steph too. It’s just that being only five months old and my real little baby half-sister, Flora is way cuter than anything else in my world, even Willow’s puppy photos.

  I left Claud and Buster up in the turret, taking turns with the telescope and possibly pashing, and went to see how lunch was going. With Buster around all the time, I hadn’t even had a chance to tell Claud about Finn.

  ‘I’ll call you guys when it’s ready,’ I said as I thumped down the narrow stairs. I was so hungry my stomach growled.

  Mum and Carl were in the kitchen doing – wait for it – the crossword. Even sadder than having parental figures who are addicted to crosswords is having parental figures who are addicted to cryptic crosswords. At least with the Quick I could sometimes help. Seriously, besides making new rules and rosters every five seconds, cryptic crossword clues are practically all Mum and Carl ever talk about, and believe me, they make no sense at all.

  ‘Oh, that’s an easy one,’ said Mum, as Carl took a pie out of the oven. ‘Fifteen down. Stars tell how horrors manage – it’s horoscope.’

  ‘Good work, love,’ said Carl peering over Mum’s shoulder. ‘So what does that make eighteen across now? Fourth letter is ‘r’. Scorched salt water crimson.’

  ‘Looks delicious,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Hunza pie,’ said Carl. ‘Made completely from the vegetable garden.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, hoping to hide my disappointment. I could hear Saskia coming in the back door.

  ‘Are we ever going to eat?’ she asked, still puffing from running around with Willow, who gulped down half a bowl of water before collapsing on the floor under the table.

  ‘Yeah, Mum,’ I said. ‘You know, eat - three letters, what growing children need to do three times a day?’

  ‘All right, Sunny,’ said Mum, putting the newspaper aside. ‘No need to be sarcastic. Why don’t you go and find Lyall and help set the table.’

  ‘I’ll get him!’ said Saskia. She darted out into the entrance hall, stood at the base of the stairs and yelled ‘L-y-y-y-y-a-a-ll, l-u-u-u-u-nch!’ at the top of her voice. Then she came back into the kitchen, still short of breath, and said, ‘Settimio told me off. Sunny’s right. He is mean.’

  I could hear Lyall thumping down the stairs.

  ‘That reminds me, Sunny,’ said Carl. ‘Have you apologised to Settimio yet?’

  I glared at Saskia for being the one to remind him. ‘Not yet,’
I said. ‘But not now, I’ve got friends over.’

  Mum and Carl gave each other the eyebrow, and Mum pointed towards the back door and said, ‘Now, Sunny. You’ll be off to your dad and Steph’s soon. Do it now, please.’

  ‘That pie smells so good,’ said Lyall appearing in the kitchen. ‘What was Settimio saying to you, Saskia? I could see you out my window?’

  ‘It’s Willow,’ said Saskia. ‘She’s dug up all his artichokes and chased Marmalade again. He said Marmalade is too old and might have heart attack.’ Saskia was mimicking Settimio and his Italian accent. ‘Then, he poked me in the leg with one of his crutches.’

  ‘Now, Sunny.’ Mum took me by the shoulders, turned me around from where I was getting some cutlery out of the drawer, faced me in the direction of the door and gave me a gentle push. ‘Go and apologise for your outburst the other day, and promise him you’ll get Willow under control.’

  I deposited the bunch of knives and forks I was holding in a pile on the table. ‘’Kay’ I said, looking about to see if anyone would come with me. Lyall and Saskia became suddenly frantic about setting the table. Even Willow pretended she was asleep.

  ‘Now, Sunny!’ Mum and Carl barked in unison.

  All the way over to the cottage I was rehearsing my lines. Sorry, Settimio, bye. Sorry, Settimio, that you really are the biggest grump alive. I’m sorry, Settimio, that you hate animals and children. Sorry about your hairy ears, Settimio. Sorry I yelled at you, but it sure felt good, Settimio. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, Settimio!

  Before I knew it, I was knocking on his door and he was on the other side opening it.

  ‘Hello, Settimio,’ I said politely. ‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you the other day. I was very worried about Willow, who I know annoys you and that’s another reason I’m sorry, and I’m going to make sure she doesn’t do any more bad things like chasing Marmalade. So yeah – that’s pretty much it. Sorry. Bye.’ I’d been looking at his feet the whole time. When my eyes finally met his, I noticed they were all weepy looking. Oh no, I thought. I’ve made Settimio cry.

  Then he slammed the door in my face.

  As I was walking back to the house I thought about how it sure felt bad to apologise and have someone still be upset with you. I mean, I’d done my bit, wasn’t he meant to say, That’s okay?

  ‘Well done, Sunny,’ said Mum. ‘How did it go?’ She had one of those patronising looks on her face. Kind of a mixture of Good girl and I told you so.

  ‘Well, I apologised, but he’s still down on me, so what can I do?’

  ‘Oh, Sunny,’ said Mum. ‘He’ll come around. It’s early days.’

  Carl had cut the pie into eight pieces and Lyall was using the cake slide to lift them onto each plate.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Lyall said, ‘and I’ve got an idea that could really help Willow stay out of trouble.’

  ‘Look out,’ taunted Saskia. ‘Lyall’s been thinking.’

  ‘Where’re Claud and Buster?’ I said, suddenly realising I had forgotten to call them for lunch.

  ‘Still up in the turret, I think,’ Saskia said. ‘I’ll go call them!’

  She was halfway to the door when Carl intercepted. ‘Oh no you won’t, young lady. You have to stop screaming up and down those stairs.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Lyall, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’ll send Buster an SMS.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ said Carl. ‘Sunny, would you mind using your legs and going upstairs to tell your friends that lunch is ready?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, thinking that Lyall’s text idea wasn’t such a bad one and that I’d probably do it myself if my phone wasn’t permanently out of credit.

  I made lots of noise thumping up the turret stairs, just in case Claud and Buster actually had been pashing all that time. But they were just lounging around on the floor looking at stuff on Buster’s laptop.

  ‘Lunch, you guys,’ I said.

  ‘Yay!’ said Claud, and they both sprang to their feet and took off downstairs.

  I picked up my pillows from the floor and threw them back on the bed. That’s when I noticed the lens cap from the telescope dangling on its string and went to put it back in place. Don’t ask me why I thought it would be a good idea to have a quick snoop on Settimio. It just seemed to happen automatically. I lined up the telescope towards his cottage and pulled it into focus at the kitchen window.

  He was right there at the table. I couldn’t see the whole of him, but I could see his hands going through papers in an old shoe box. I focused a little closer. There were photographs and old coins, a couple of smaller tin boxes and letters in old-looking envelopes. Maybe that was why he looked all misty and weepy. He’d been making himself sad by being sentimental and all memory-lanesy.

  Why do people do that? Keep a whole lot of old stuff that makes them feel all bent out of shape? I just don’t get it. It’s kind of just as weird as people (like Mum) who actually like movies that make them cry. Still, it was kind of reassuring to know that it wasn’t me who’d made him cry. I’d obviously caught him in a bad moment.

  When I got downstairs the others had started eating without me.

  ‘What took you so long?’ asked Claud.

  ‘Nothing, really, just straightened up a bit.’ I reached over for some tomato relish to help disguise the fact that the hunza pie was so full of vegies. ‘What’s your idea about anyway, Lyall?’ I asked.

  ‘Well,’ he said, with a mouth full of pie. ‘It’s a dog entertaining business. We can set up all sorts of activities in the garden and get paid to entertain neighbourhood dogs after school and on holidays, while people are at work. I thought we could call it Boredom Control. What do you think?’

  ‘Um, it’s ah … interesting,’ I said. ‘Worth thinking about.’

  ‘You sure do have plenty of room for it,’ said Claud.

  ‘Yeah, stacks,’ added Buster.

  ‘Can I design the brochures? asked Saskia.

  Everybody looked over to me and gave me the eyebrow, all at the same time.

  The thing was, ever since we’d moved I’d been trying to think of new business ideas. I really did like Lyall’s idea, don’t get me wrong. It’s that just being an inventor and an entrepreneur, I should have been the one to think of it myself. I mean, if we did do Boredom Control and it was Lyall’s idea, wouldn’t that mean he was the boss? Can you imagine how tragic life would be if I had to take orders from a precooked? That would be about as wrong-town as you could get.

  I glanced around the table to find everyone still looking at me.

  ‘Sure,’ I finally said. ‘Let’s do it. But you’re not the boss of me, okay, Lyall? No one is.’

  10.

  ‘I don’t know what the matter is,’ said Steph tearily, after changing Flora’s nappy. ‘She’s fed; she’s changed; she’s burped. I’ve been cuddling her all day.’

  ‘Here,’ said Dad, reaching for Flora. ‘Sunny and I will take her for a walk in the pram. We’ll get some groceries and fix dinner too, won’t we, Sunny?’

  ‘We’d better take this,’ I said, holding up Flora’s dummy as Dad lay her in the pram. She had stopped crying momentarily. I brushed the rubbery dummy gently against Flora’s lips until she opened her mouth and sucked it in, making the cutest slurping noises, just like Maggie from The Simpsons.

  ‘Try and get some rest, Steph,’ said Dad, putting his arm around her. ‘You look exhausted.’ He kissed her on the side of her forehead, which made her even tearier.

  ‘Do you know the worst thing you can say to someone who’s tired, James?’ snapped Steph. Dad stared at her blankly. ‘That they look tired!’ And she stomped into the laundry, slamming the door behind her.

  Dad looked at me guiltily. ‘Come on, Sunny, grab the shopping list and we’ll give Steph some peace.’

  Steph slamming the door like that jangled my nerves and made me feel as though I shouldn’t be there at all. Kind of like the time I was at Ruby�
��s house and she got in trouble for exploding the microwave by heating the left-over spaghetti Bolognese with the tin foil still on. I just wanted to disappear. Which is when my imaginary aeroplane seat 44K comes in handy. Way up in the clouds, strung-out stepmothers and bad feelings don’t seem to exist at all. I think it’s something to do with the altitude. And also due to the fact that when you peer out the window of an aeroplane, your life (and all your worries) suddenly shrinks to insignificant proportions. In seat 44K, all there is to think about is the next movie you’re going to watch and what sort of yummy surprises you might find wrapped up on the dinner tray. So right after Steph yelled at Dad and slammed the laundry door, I boarded my imaginary plane. And that’s when the most incredible thing happened …

  ‘Miss Hathaway,’ the hostess said as she greeted me at the door. ‘Lovely to see you again.’

  ‘Hello, Tabitha,’ I said, reading her nametag. ‘Yes, it feels like ages since I’ve had a spell in 44K.’

  ‘We were worried about you, Sunday. Thought you might be flying with someone else.’

  ‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I’m perfectly happy with ThinAir.

  ‘Well, have we got a surprise for you, Miss Hathaway. Do you know what it means to be upgraded?’

  ‘Does that mean you get to skip a year at school?’

  ‘No,’ chuckled the hostess. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’ She ushered me to the left, and immediately the seats were a little bigger and not so squashed in together.

  ‘This is business class,’ she said, leading me past rows and rows of seats. Then we came to a curtain that was buttoned down on one side. She swept it open, ushered me in and quickly closed it again behind us. ‘Now, Sunday, because you’re such a loyal customer, we’ve reserved a seat for you in our first class cabin. Seat 2A, Miss Hathaway, right up the very front of the plane.’

  ‘Sunny?’ Dad said, ‘Did you hear what I said? I asked if you’ve seen Flora’s beanie. I had it just a moment ago.’

  ‘Found it!’ I said coming back to reality. It was wedged down the side of the pram. I tried to slide it onto her head without her neck going all wobbly and without making her cry. Then Dad and I set off, and before we were even out of our street, Flora was asleep.