Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms

by Marion Roberts

  So anyway, you can come and visit and Mum said it’s fine to bring the pigeons as long as they’re in a box because we’ve got a dog and a very old cat.

  It’s pretty weird that you don’t use a telephone. I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t have a telephone actually.

  Have you finished your scarf?

  Come over next Monday at ten o’clock because I’m going to my Dad’s at the weekend.

  Bye then,

  Your new friend Sunny Hathaway (NFSH)

  It was a rainy old day so there was absolutely no point getting out of my pyjamas. I climbed downstairs and knocked on Lyall’s door. We had planned to make the brochures for Boredom Control, and Saskia had convinced us that she’d be the best one to design them as she was almost certain she had a full-blown case of dyslexia. I had to make sure Lyall didn’t sleep all morning.

  ‘The brochures?’ I said poking my head inside. I think I was trying to start acting like a manager type, just in case he really did think he owned the business. I heard him grunt and turn over, so I went and knocked on Saskia’s door, across the hall. ‘Saskia, you awake?’

  ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’ve been working on ideas.’ I pushed open the door. There were drawings laid out all over the floor.

  ‘I did a lot of work in the night,’ she said, snapping the lid back on one of her textas.

  ‘Wow! They look amazing.’ I picked up one drawing. It was a whole group of assorted dogs running around an obstacle course. ‘Did you sleep at all?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Saskia. ‘But a lot of artists work through the night. You just have to ride the wave of inspiration when it comes.’ She did an enormous yawn, which made me yawn too, even though I’d just woken up.

  ‘Maybe you’d better get some more sleep,’ I said. ‘Lyall’s still snoozing too. Besides, all this yawning is contagious.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, yawning some more and flopping back into bed.

  I really wanted to slide down the banister, but I could hear Mum down in the library, so I took the stairs the regular old way instead.

  ‘Morning, sweetheart,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘I’ve got my first client in half an hour. I’m just making sure the library’s ready for tonight’s meeting.’

  Mum and Carl had invited the neighbours over to see if they’d be interested in forming an environmental action group. It was Carl’s idea, of course. Besides the fact that he made a living out of trying to get huge corporations to reduce their carbon footprint, Carl said it would be wrong to be living in such a super-privileged way, in such a ridiculously big house, without setting an example for other people living in super-privileged ways in ridiculously big houses. But it was completely obvious to me that what the neighbours were mostly interested in was having a stickybeak at our house.

  ‘So, Sunny,’ Mum went on. ‘Will you three be mindful that I’m working today and not be too rowdy?’

  ‘Sure, Mum,’ I said. ‘We’re just making our brochures. It’s not a very noisy activity.’

  ‘And if there’s a break in this weather, Willow will need a walk.’

  ‘I’ve got to go post a letter, so I’ll take Willow with me.’

  ‘Make sure you call by Settimio’s place and see if he needs anything at the shops.’

  ‘Consider it done, Mum.’

  But as Mum’s string of clients came and went and Lyall and Saskia didn’t wake up, and it was still raining, I snuck Willow onto the couch in the gameless games room and we watched hours of daytime television without anybody to tell us not to. It was just like old times, only in a bigger house.

  That night Carl was stressed to the max, which pretty much meant that he and Lyall would end up having an argument. It’s just the way it is with them, because when it comes to Lyall, Carl’s got what you might call a short fuse.

  ‘Now listen, Lyall,’ said Carl, ‘I don’t want you goofing off on MySpace all night; do you hear? I want you to help serve refreshments.’

  ‘Okay. Chill, Dad,’ said Lyall.

  ‘Don’t chill me, Lyall. There are jobs to do. It’s our first night and we’ve got three people coming, which isn’t bad considering most punters around here think they need four-wheel drive trucks just to get their kids to school.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Saskia, making up a jug of lemon cordial. ‘Don’t get Dad started on the truck issue.’

  ‘They should be banned,’ said Carl. ‘Or, if you really need a truck to keep up with the Joneses, you should at least have to pay more to register the damn things. You wouldn’t believe the scene the other day in Malvern Road. Trucks everywhere. All with just one person in them. It’s a disgrace.’

  ‘What do you suggest then, Carl, shared Kombi Vans run on bio-diesel?’ I said.

  ‘Sunny!’ said Mum, giving me the eyebrow. ‘Don’t be smart.’

  ‘What I am suggesting Sunny, is change. Is that such a difficult concept?’

  Apart from the fact that change was a difficult concept for me, I didn’t like it when Carl told me off, because he isn’t actually my father. When Dad tells me off I don’t even care, but Carl made my cheeks burn red. I wished I could turn invisible. To be honest, I think Mum should have stuck up for me. It’s not as if he doesn’t have two kids of his own to vent on.

  ‘Lyall,’ continued Carl. ‘I’ll need you to get the whiteboard out of the laundry for me. And Saskia, once you’ve finished making the cordial you can put out a plate of biscuits too. And some glasses, of course.’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ said Saskia, who knew the exact level of agreeability to prevent an argument when Carl was stressed.

  ‘Sunny, it can be your job to clear up afterwards.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  ‘Lyall!’ Carl yelled. ‘How many times do I have to ask you to go and get the whiteboard?’

  ‘Come on, Lyall,’ I said, wanting an excuse to leave the room. ‘I’ll help.’

  Once the three guests arrived, and Mum and Carl were occupied in the library, Lyall and Saskia and I went up to Lyall’s room and finished our brochures for Boredom Control. All we had to do was print some off and we’d be ready to deliver in the morning.

  After the meeting, Carl came upstairs to let us know the guests had gone, which was my cue to start the clearing up. Thankfully, he seemed a little more relaxed.

  ‘These are excellent,’ he said, looking at our brochures.

  ‘Saskia did them,’ I said.

  ‘Dad,’ said Saskia. ‘Sometimes when I’m reading, the words swirl around on the page and the letters get all mixed up.’

  ‘She’s lying, Dad,’ said Lyall. ‘She’s just trying to convince you she’s dyslexic.’

  ‘Go away, Lyall. Dad, it’s true. I told Mrs Pattison but she just ignored me.’

  ‘Did she, darl?’ said Carl, putting the brochures down. ‘Oh well, you kids better get ready for bed.’

  ‘Dad, did you even listen to me?’ whined Saskia.

  That was when I went downstairs to the library. I grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen sink, wheeled the trolley into the library and parked it by the door. I was humming a tune, because sometimes tunes come into my head. I might never have heard the tune before, but I hum along. I took all the glasses off the old oval table and remembered how Granny Carmelene had first shown me her old maps there, next to a big vase of hydrangeas. I wiped down the table and checked around for anything else that needed to go back to the kitchen.

  I was stacking and checking and wiping and humming away when the most freaky thing happened, and if I tell you about it you’re not allowed to think I’m a nut-job, okay?

  I heard soft clear music coming from somewhere up high. At first I thought there must be speakers that I hadn’t noticed before, but I looked all around and couldn’t find any. Then the music got louder, as if someone had turned the volume up and my skin went all tingly. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling near the wooden ladder used for the out-of-reach books. I stood at the lowest step and loo
ked up.

  And that’s when I saw it. An angel! Just like the one I’d seen with Granny in King Solomon’s Cave. I swear on my life it’s true. It was an angel I tell you. Halo, wings and all.

  I didn’t tell Mum and Carl about what I’d seen, because let’s face it, if they don’t believe in Father Christmas or the Easter Bunny, they were hardly going to believe I’d seen an angel (for the second time) were they? Besides, I kind of wanted to keep it to myself because it was so lovely and special and just for me – like Finn, and Granny Carmelene’s locket. Arguing about it was going to make it all muddy and torn and belong to everyone else.

  That night I snuck Willow into the turret to sleep at the end of my bed, because if the angel visited me again, I wanted to share it with someone who wouldn’t have any trouble believing.

  13.

  When I woke up the next morning I wasn’t thinking about breakfast and I wasn’t thinking about Finn. I was thinking about angels and how maybe, just maybe, I might have imagined the whole thing – twice. And how if that was the case then maybe, just maybe, I was a nut-job.

  But then I started thinking about how angels are well-known as messengers and guardians, so maybe, just maybe, the angel in the library was real and had something to do with Granny Carmelene. Could she be trying to communicate from the other side, like from nowhere? One things was for sure, I had to tell someone, even if it was just to reassure myself that I wasn’t going crazy. But would I tell Lyall and Saskia and risk them making fun of me for ever, or would I tell Mum and Carl and suffer the inevitable frustration of them not believing me at all? I couldn’t tell Claud because she was away. And Finn? Well, I kind of wanted Finn to like me, I f you know what I mean.

  So I spent the next half-hour constructing a handy flow chart, which can often help if you’re having trouble knowing the best path to take. Perhaps just check at the end of the book in case I remembered to include it.

  After studying the chart and weighing up my options, I decided to barge on in and tell Lyall and Saskia.

  ‘It’s true! It was an angel in the library. I was thinking about Granny Carmelene and then there it was!’

  The three of us were up in Lyall’s room, printing the Boredom Control brochures.

  Lyall burst out laughing. ‘Yeah right, Sunny. You tricked me once, you’re not going to suck me in with angels too. How many brochures do you think we should print? About fifty? We’ll also need some to stick onto street poles.’

  Maybe Lyall’s response served me right. At least he didn’t say I was bats.

  ‘You should believe in angels, Lyall, the Catholics practically invented them,’ I said.

  ‘I believe in angels!’ Saskia said. ‘And Sunny’s right, Lyall. You should believe in them because they’re in the Bible.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And I know they’re real, because now I’ve seen one twice. I attract them. It’s obvious.’

  ‘That’s hardly proof, Sunny,’ said Lyall. ‘I’d need to see it for myself, or at least have solid evidence. I mean, why didn’t you take a photo, Sunny?’

  ‘Well, Lyall, I guess that would be because I didn’t happen to have a camera with me. Der.’

  All of a sudden Saskia became terribly excited. ‘I know!’ she squealed. ‘We can catch the angel with your surveillance equipment, Lyall, just like how at Mum’s we—’

  ‘Shoosh, Saskia!’ scolded Lyall, punching her in the arm. ‘You breathe one word of that and I’ll seriously put your head down the insinkerator.’

  I gave Lyall the eyebrow, as if to say, Surveillance huh? Sounds completely dodgy. But then I thought, who am I to talk? I spy on an old man through a telescope.

  Carl appeared at the door. ‘I’m off to work now, guys,’ he said. ‘What have you got planned for the day?’

  ‘Sunny saw an angel, Dad,’ Saskia said.

  ‘That’s great, sweetheart,’ Carl said, kissing Saskia goodbye.

  ‘I did, Carl, actually I saw one twice,’ I said.

  ‘Wonderful, Sunny. Now, you kids get some fresh air today. There’s no sign of rain. You were inside all day yesterday.’

  ‘We’ll be delivering our brochures,’ said Lyall.

  ‘Excellent, oh and that reminds me, can you grab a stack of flyers for the action group and deliver them as well?’

  ‘Sure,’ we all said at once.

  We tried to save on brochures by targeting houses with obvious signs of dog ownership. Having Willow with us made it easy because whenever we passed a house with a resident dog, the smell of Willow made the other dog rush to the fence barking.

  ‘I really do think there are a lot of bored dogs around here,’ Saskia said, rolling up a brochure and sliding it into a letterbox. Boredom Control could really take off.’

  ‘It’s a pity that Buster lives so far away – he’s convinced you can teach dogs to meditate and says he’s had success on more than one occasion,’ I said.

  ‘Well,’ said Saskia, ‘I believe it. If you can hypnotise a chicken—’

  ‘You believe anything, Saskia,’ said Lyall.

  ‘Do not, Lyall.’

  ‘Come on, you guys, do you have to argue about absolutely everything?’ I said.

  ‘Exactly, Sunny,’ said Lyall. ‘That’s why scientists invented proof. So there’d be nothing left to argue about, and that’s why, as soon as we get home, I’m going to hook up my surveillance system in the library. If there really is an angel, Sunny, we’ll catch it on the monitor.’

  14.

  It was the weekend, which usually meant bacon and eggs, but Mum was having all sorts of trouble with her poaching, and we didn’t even have any bacon.

  ‘Blast!’ Mum said, as she scooped a lonely yolk out of the poaching pot.

  ‘Did you give it a dash of vinegar, love?’ asked Carl, pouring coffee.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘Vinegar and a pinch of salt. Maybe the eggs are old?’

  ‘Dad, can I have a coffee too?’ asked Lyall.

  ‘No, Lyall,’ said Carl.

  ‘Can I?’ asked Saskia.

  ‘No, Saskia. Coffee isn’t for children.’

  ‘Here, Sunny,’ said Mum, handing me a side plate with the little yellow ball of poached yolk. ‘May as well give this to Willow. I might give up on poached eggs and we’ll have scrambled instead?’

  ‘And bacon?’ I asked hopefully.

  Mum gave Carl the eyebrow, as if to say, I’m having enough trouble with these eggs, you tell the children how we’ve decided to ruin their lives by putting a ban on deliciously crispy bacon.

  ‘Well, said Carl. ‘Alex and I have decided to ruin your lives by putting a ban on deliciously crispy bacon.’

  ‘Daaaaad-uh!’ yelled Lyall and Saskia in chorus, but due to Carl not being my dad and all, I couldn’t join in. I just gave him the eyebrow as if to say, Nice one, Carl – let me guess, you’re going to try to convince us that tofu can taste just as good as bacon.

  ‘Come on, you guys, be a little open-minded. Besides, you can get some amazing tofu products now that taste just like bacon. You won’t even know the difference.’

  I wasn’t in the mood for arguing about bacon. We had three appointments to think about, with potential customers who had responded to our brochure. That meant a lot of smooth-talking and good manners, which you have to admit is sometimes an exhausting combination. Especially for an introvert. Hopefully by the end of it we’d have our very first clients for Boredom Control.

  A woman called Kara Bleakly was on the top of our list. She lived in Foster Street. In Carmichael Drive we were to visit a guy called Ritchie Draper followed by a family called the Archers down in Howard Crescent.

  ‘Now, kids,’ said Carl, stacking the dishwasher as we were ready to leave. ‘Make sure you remember to invite all three of them to our next meeting.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mum, ‘and tell them about how we’re turning our land into a community vegetable plot.’

  ‘What about farming some organic pigs?’ I suggested, but everyone
just stared at me straight-faced.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Sunny,’ said Mum. ‘You cried all the way through Babe.’

  If you ask me, everything about Kara Bleakly’s house was bleak. For a start it was all the one bleak colour, kind of grey stone with dried out slats of wood and a jutting-out box of cold empty glass. I think it’s what They call Modern. There was a high stone fence across the front with a locked gate and an intercom button. Right when Saskia buzzed, a black snout appeared under the gate, accompanied by some rather loud snorting. Then the gate opened and we were greeted by Kara Bleakly, who looked as bleak as her name and her house suggested. Even her voice was bleak and all on one level like the low hum of a fridge. I think They call it monotone. The only thing connected to Kara Bleakly that wasn’t bleak was her big fat black bounding labrador, Sophia.

  ‘You must be Lyall,’ Kara said, holding out her hand.

  ‘Yeah, hi, and this is my sister Saskia and this is my – um – kind of like stepsister, kind of like—’

  ‘I’m Sunny,’ I said holding out my hand. ‘As in Sunday.’

  Kara Bleakly had one of those limp, wet-fish handshakes, but I didn’t have to endure it for too long because Sophia jumped up and almost knocked me over.

  ‘Down, Sophia,’ said Kara. ‘Sorry, you can see she’s got a lot of energy – most of which she puts towards digging holes, I’m afraid. Oh and over-eating, of course.’ Kara nodded at all the holes Sophia had dug in the garden, and that’s when she noticed Saskia’s shoes.

  ‘Oh dear, you’re wearing those unfortunate shoes. What are they called again? Crocs?’

  Saskia blushed with embarrassment as we all looked down at her red socks and purple Crocs. There was an awful silence that seemed to last forever, until she said (in a tiny little Miss Mousy voice), ‘They’re actually really comfortable.’