The Year I Turned Thirteen and Broadened my Mind

by Lynne Roberts

  Chapter 6.

  Yuko and Naoko, two Japanese girls, arrived as Marc left and life got even more complicated. These girls were the complete opposite of the Argentinians. They were terribly shy and spent the first day holding their hands in front of their faces and giggling nervously. They were desperate not to give offence in any way and were constantly apologising with “solly, solly.” Mum and Dad thought they were sweet but Amber complained that she felt like a big uncouth elephant next to them, and couldn’t get over how many clothes they had. They each arrived with a huge suitcase that Dad had to lift out of the car as they were so heavy. After that the girls towed them on leather leads like a couple of well behaved dogs and went into their room and locked the door. It was quite funny when they came, as we had a massive power cut. Fortunately Mum had cold meat for tea and she managed to cook the veges in an old fondue set with a meths burner underneath. The girls were totally bewildered by this, particularly when Mum handed us each a candle to take to our rooms. I think Naoko thought we didn’t have power in New Zealand yet. She took it all in her stride but Yuko cowered behind her and was obviously terrified she was living among savages. They were so relieved to see we had power the next day that they didn’t even complain about the toaster.

  We have a very strange toaster. It’s a huge, really expensive one that Dad gave Mum for her birthday a couple of years ago and he won’t replace it. But it sucks. It doesn’t matter what you turn the dial to, it burns the toast. When it pops up it spits the toast out contemptuously onto the floor unless you’re quick enough to catch it. The times you stand and wait for it, the thing will only pop up halfway and you have to unplug it then gouge the toast out with a knife. If you push the button to get the toast out before it burns it will not be cooked at all. But as soon as you put it down again – zap – instant incineration.

  We’ve tried bashing it and shaking it and yelling at it. The worst part is that it cooks Dad’s toast perfectly and never pops up too far. Amber and I reckon it knows Dad is the boss so it behaves for him, but our kitchen always has a smell of burn toast about it.

  Amber and I soon realised we were onto a good thing with these new guests. Yuko and Naoko were anxious to help and got up before everyone else to set the table and lay out the breakfast things. They rushed to wash the dishes and clear the table before we could move, and swept the floor and dusted the furniture before going to work in the glasshouse. They didn’t know much English and Dad told them not to talk to each other in Japanese at the dinner table as it wasn’t polite. To his astonishment they both burst into tears and after that they bowed and rushed from the room whenever they saw him.

  Mum got a bit frustrated when she took them shopping as they insisted on walking three paces behind her carrying the bags of groceries.

  “I felt like a slave driver,” she complained to Dad who laughed unsympathetically and told her to enjoy it while it lasted. Mum was also very worried that the girls wore such new clothes to work in. They showered and changed their clothes at least three times a day but never seemed to wash them. She sneaked into their room one afternoon when we took the girls to the shops and found they were hand washing all their clothes and had them hung from elastic lines strung up all over the room.

  Mum showed them the washing machine and the dryer and the clothesline but you could tell they were horrified at the thought of other people seeing their clothes. So they kept washing them in the bathroom each day much to Mum’s annoyance.

  Yuko was very nervous and would cringe if anyone walked past too close to her or shouted at her. Dad shouted all the time. He didn’t mean to. It’s just that when they didn’t understand what he said, he said it louder. Amber would say,

  “They’re not deaf Dad. They just don’t understand English,” but it didn’t make any difference. Dad got louder and louder and Yuko got more and more nervous. Then Yuko got up one night to go to the bathroom and collided with Kevin who was sneaking back from the kitchen where he’d gone to grab a drink of milk. Yuko screamed and kept screaming while Kevin dived for my room and my parents and Amber came rushing out.

  All they could get out of Yuko was that there had been “a man” in the house, which was hardly true. Kevin’s pretty weedy, as I said. Anyway, Mum panicked and thought there must be criminals prowling around outside so she went and double checked the doors and windows were locked. The next morning she made Dad nail my outside door shut, despite my protests, as she said she "Didn’t feel safe anymore."

  That night she insisted that Dad drive Kevin home after tea as it was dark and obviously not safe for him to walk. Kevin pointed out that he’d been walking for weeks and it didn’t bother him. That was almost true because he walked down our driveway before sneaking back through the garden. But Dad made him get in the car and drove back to his house. Kevin told me later he had to pretend to go round the back of his house then race off once Dad had driven off again. The worst part was he had to walk all the way back to our place again in the dark. It was raining, so he got wet, then he nearly broke my ribs when he climbed in the bedroom window and landed on me because the door was nailed shut.

  I had to shake Kevin awake the next morning so he could go out the window again before Mum and Dad were up. Fortunately he could still get into the glasshouse because Mum hadn’t got round to bolting that door yet so he was able to stay reasonably dry until it was time for school. Kevin said it was awful being driven home because Dad kept asking him if things were going okay at home and if there was anything Kevin wanted to tell him. And Kevin said he could hardly say he was living in his son’s cupboard so I gather he just sort of grunted and said nothing.

  About that time I realised that it was Mum’s birthday the next week and I was going to have to produce something fairly spectacular to make up for keeping her out of my cupboard for weeks.

  “Buy her something,” suggested Amber.

  “That’s no good. I’ve already said I was making something so I can’t lie about it.”

  “You already are lying,” Amber pointed out. “Because it’s Kevin in the cupboard.”

  That made me feel even worse. Anyway, what with having to spend money on things like the laundromat and food and stuff for Kevin I was totally broke. I was thinking that I’d have to tell Mum I’d made her something but it didn’t work out so I chucked it, when Kevin made his stupendous offer.

  “I’ve been growing a plant. You can have that for your Mum if you like. I was going to give it to my Mum for her birthday but I don’t want to now.” He faltered to a stop, looking wretched.

  “Gosh, thanks Kevin. Are you sure?”

  I knew how much Kevin liked growing things. That was one of the few differences between what we liked. Kevin did horticulture at school and adored it. He had his own flower garden there and was growing some special plant that Mr Holdsworth the teacher had got for him, It was a new and experimental one that Mr Holdsworth’s brother, who owned a nursery, had given him as a favour. He let Kevin have it because he was his keenest student.

  Kevin never minded helping Mum in the glasshouse. In fact he actually enjoyed it. Me, I was keener on woodwork, which was the option I had taken. It was too late to make something for Mum now, though, and I wished I hadn’t spent this term making myself a model boat. I’d talked about it so much I couldn’t have given it to Mum as a surprise anyhow.

  So I was really grateful to Kevin. He said he would bring it home and put it in the cupboard and I could say I had been looking after it in there, which would be almost true, except that it would be for days instead of weeks.

  That solved one problem but of course another one cropped up almost at once. That’s the thing with life. You just find a solution to one thing and a whole heap more hit you on all sides. It’s no doubt part of the whole mind broadening process. I guess this time it really was my fault. Mum was getting increasingly spooked by the Japanese girls, and Yuko in particular, who would shriek if you even talked to her unexpectedly. Mum had told her we lived in a q
uiet, safe neighbourhood, but to reassure her she asked the next door neighbours if they’d seen anyone prowling around at night. They said no, but they’d seen lights on in our house from time to time lately when they thought everyone was out. That would have been Kevin. So Mum totally freaked then and went round making sure all the windows and doors were shut. She also insisted that Kevin went home before dark, which meant that he missed tea and had to hang around in the glasshouse in the dark for hours. Of course it was freezing out there and I forgot to open my window again after Mum had been in to check it was shut. So Kevin had to spend one whole night in the glasshouse and he looked terrible the next day. He kept coughing all through school and was still coughing when he came back to our place. Mum let him stay for tea thank goodness, but then she made Dad drive him home again and he had to walk back again in the cold and dark. I remembered to leave the window open but he coughed on and off all night, which woke me up. Breakfast time was a disaster. Mum went,

  “Robbie, I heard you coughing all night. You’re looking very pale this morning. Do you think you should stay at home today?” This was a major concession. Usually the only time we stay home is if we are close to death and the funeral has been arranged. I said,

  “No Mum. It’s okay. I must have a tickle in my throat. It’s perfect now.”

  Mum looked unconvinced and insisted on pouring me a huge spoonful of cough medicine. I suggested I could keep the bottle in my room and use it at night, thinking I could give some to Kevin, but Mum was horrified at that idea.

  Dad said, “Don’t fuss over the boy. He looks fine to me. When I was his age, nobody took cough medicine.”

  Yeah, right Dad. Back in the stone age when you were born people only lived until they were about thirty.

  Kevin was still coughing that day and we stopped in at the dairy and spent his last two dollars on some throat lozenges, but they didn’t seem to help much.

  Amber was getting worried “Man, I was scared you’d stay home, Robbie,” she said. “Then I would have had to take enough food for Kevin and I’m sure Mum would have noticed.”

  Kevin didn’t say anything, just coughed and looked miserable. Fortunately he let me shut the cupboard door for the next couple of nights so Mum couldn’t hear him coughing anymore, but I could still hear him a little bit when I was trying to go to sleep.