by Bill Condon
‘You mean you want me taste something that could be horrible – that could poison me?’
I laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘It’s not going to poison you, Aunty Lola … I hope.’
‘Go on.’ Mr Smith cuts a slice of cake and puts it on her plate. ‘Be brave.’
‘All right then, Norm. If you say so.’
Aunty Lola sinks her teeth into the cake. I watch her every move, hoping so much that she likes it.
‘Aarrgh!’ She grabs her throat. ‘Poison!’ She slumps back in the chair. Her arms flop down beside her.
I giggle. So does Allie.
Aunty Lola’s eyes pop open. ‘You children didn’t believe I was poisoned?’
We both shake our heads.
‘But you were really funny,’ Allie says.
‘Well, that’s good. I’m glad I still have some use.’
‘Do you like the cake, Aunty Lola?’
‘It’s delicious, Stephen; the cake, the gifts, the friendship – I’m sure I’ll never forget any of it.’
Later, Mum and Dad go out and me and Aunty Lola play Scrabble. She doesn’t let me make up any words. And I have to spell proper, too. But sometimes she helps me. It’s good fun.
I always take a long time to work out what word to put down. Usually Aunty Lola says silly things like, ‘I’ve seen snails move faster,’ or, ‘I’d like to finish before Christmas, Stephen.’ This time she doesn’t say anything. I look up and see that she’s asleep. She does little whistly snores. And she dribbles a bit too. Doesn’t bother me.
Suddenly I remember something.
‘Oh nooo!’
She almost falls out of her chair. ‘Goodness! What’s wrong with you, boy?’
‘Your birthday card. I was going to make one for you. I had the paper all ready. I’d even worked out what I was going to say. But I forgot. I’m sorry, Aunty Lola.’
‘That’s perfectly all right. Perhaps you can send me a card when you get back home. Or better still, a letter. Not any of this twittering or email rubbish; a real letter with some news in it. I’d like to keep up with what you’re doing.’
‘Sure, but we’ll be coming back here. Probably next holidays, Mum said. Then I’ll tell you everything that’s happened.’
‘No, I won’t have it. It’s such a long way to travel. Besides, I’m certain you have better things to do in your holidays than visit an antique like me.’
‘But I want to visit you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because.’
‘Because is not a reason. It’s an excuse because you can’t think of a reason.’
‘Okay … I’ll see Allie, too. And Mr Smith.’
‘Now that’s a reason.’
‘I might go fishing again down at the bridge. I’m not sure yet.’
‘Well then, if you do come, you’ll be a busy lad. I probably won’t see much of you, but I’m sure we’ll get some time together. We might even fit in a game of bingo.’
‘Yeah. I mean yes.’
‘Stephen. Perhaps I’ve been a little too severe with you.’ She touches the side of my face. Her hand is warm. ‘For the few days you have left here, you may say “yeah” as much as you please.’
‘Thanks!’
‘You are also permitted to say can, instead of may.’
‘Cool! That is sooo good!’
‘But don’t let it become a habit when you return home. Is that clear?’
‘Um … yeah.’
‘Now off you go and let me have some peace. It’s been a very long day.’
I don’t go.
‘Are you waiting for something?’
Aunty Lola puts a hand under her chin. She leans in closer to me, waiting for my answer.
‘It’s because you’re like Blue.’
She makes her eyes go small and squinty.
‘Explain yourself, Stephen.’
‘That’s the reason why I want to come back here.’
‘Let me see if I’ve got this right … you want to visit me because I’m like your dog? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Do you mean that I have fleas?’
‘Noooo!’
‘Do I look like a dog? Is that it?’
‘No, Aunty Lola!’
‘Do you think I have a tail?’
‘No way!’
‘I’m totally lost. First you name a dead fish after me. Now you compare me to your dog. I feel like I belong in a pet shop!’
‘Awww. You know what I mean, Aunty Lola.’
‘Hmm … let me take a guess. I know you’re fond of Blue, so I suppose being compared to her is possibly a good thing. Is it?’
I nod and nod. ‘It’s the very best thing!’
Aunty Lola smiles like I’ve never seen her smile before.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my wife, Dianne Bates. As always, Di assisted me enormously during the writing of this book. Many times I would have given up without her support and encouragement. I’m grateful as well to my writing friends, Chris McTrustry, Vicki Stanton, Maureen Johnson and Sandy Fussell, who guided me along with kindness and sometimes cattle prods (Chris took particular delight in the latter). Thanks also to Beth Norling for her great illustrations, and the Allen & Unwin team of Sophie Splatt and Eva Mills. They’ve been wonderful to work with. The Simple Things has been read and edited by several people, whose advice has helped make it a better book. These clever and generous readers include Sonja Heijn, Jenny Mounfield, Sally Odgers and my outstanding former editor, Leonie Tyle. Last but not least, thanks to my good pal David Gowans, who told me the story about a bird he shot many years ago.
About the author
Bill lives on the south coast of NSW with his wife, the author Dianne Bates. Before writing for children and young adults, Bill worked as a journalist on a suburban newspaper. He has written non-fiction, short stories, poetry and plays. Bill was the winner of the inaugural Prime Minister’s Literary Award in 2010 for Young Adult Fiction for his book Confessions of a Liar, Thief and Failed Sex God.
Other books by Bill Condon
A Straight Line to My Heart (Allen and Unwin, 2011)
Confessions of a Liar, Thief and Failed Sex God
(Woolshed Press, 2009)
Give Me Truth (Woolshed Press, 2008)
Daredevils (UQP, 2007)
No Worries (UQP, 2005)
Dogs (Hodder Headline, 2001)