‘Strawberries?’ I asked quickly. ‘They’re from the Henderson farm in Queensland.’
I could see what Fergus meant about those strawberries. They were so sweet, you could taste summer the instant you bit into one.
‘Delicious,’ Aunty Marita said, ‘these are just fabulous. I can taste those antioxidants and all those vitamins. Are you sure you don’t want more of my muesli slices to sell, Lou?’
‘Oh no,’ Mum said quickly, ‘that’s fine, Marita. I’m sure they’re stuffed with antioxidants, but we’ll make do with the lemon tarts. I’m thinking of taking a course, Marita.’
Mum’s strategy worked. Aunty Marita loved courses. She was very enthusiastic about Mum doing an Internet Selling course. ‘The best idea,’ she said. ‘You’ll need a website, of course, and maybe you should upgrade your computer, Lou. You’ll also want a digital camera, a good one, so you can upload photos of the stock. A solid web presence is what every small business needs these days.’
‘What kind of IT was Neville into?’ Mum asked.
Aunty Marita looked offended. ‘Nothing like that. No, Lou, I’m in touch. My holistic health adviser advertises on the Net. She’s got her own website – Serenity Wellness for the Twenty-First Century. She took photos of us opening our chakras for the site. The photos are a bit fuzzy – all that energy in the room. She sells oils and crystals on eBay, too.’
‘Quite the serene businesswoman.’
‘You’ve got to make a living, Lou.’
‘That’s true.’ Mum reached out and gave Aunty Marita’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t asked. How’s the emergency teaching going?’
‘Ghastly. It’s just like riot control. I’m thinking of doing a course in real estate.’
‘Real estate?’
‘Do you mean, like selling houses and stuff?’ I asked. I couldn’t see it myself.
‘ Alternative real estate. Real estate sold with integrity and honesty.’
‘You’ll never make any money!’
Aunty Marita shrugged. ‘Maybe people want a choice. Maybe it’s time. I know a little bit about feng shui. I’ll sell houses with soul.’
‘I’d buy one from you,’ I said, seeing Mum’s eyebrows go up again. I couldn’t see Aunty Marita wearing a business suit with her old hippy sandals, but I could just hear her telling someone how a particular window would let them open their soul to the light.
When I went to bed Mum and Aunty Marita were still talking downstairs and I could just hear their voices rippling up, like water, into my bedroom. They had similar laughs, though Mum’s was pitched a little lower. It was comforting hearing her laugh again.
It’d be nice to have a sister, I told Ableth.
Nice to have a boyfriend, he said to me, slightly sulkily. Isn’t it missy?
I’m a pirate queen. I don’t need a boyfriend, I said.
But you’re going to lend him one of our books, aren’t you?
You’re just jealous, Ableth.
I’m not, he said, but he turned away, his arms crossed, and he wouldn’t even say goodnight.
You’re always the first in my heart, I told him. After Mum and the aunties – and Dad, of course.
Of course, he said eventually. You’re the first in my heart, too. After the other girls I’ve got at every port on every coast on every country.
Stop boasting, Ableth. I know you.
Yes, Mimi, queen of my heart. You know me.
School was every bit as bad as I thought it would be. My classmates stared and no one wanted to talk to me. Even my part-time best friend, Angel, didn’t seem to know what to say.
‘Sorry,’ she said when we were at the lockers together, ‘about your Dad. You know. I’m sorry.’ She looked at me and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’d just be devastated if anything happened to Mum or Dad. You must feel awful.’
I knew she meant to sound sympathetic and caring – Angel always did. That was why she could only be my part-time best friend, because if she was my full-time best friend it wouldn’t have been fair to her other best friend, Lily. It just seemed wrong to me, though, that she was about to cry over something that hadn’t happened to her. I turned away from her and stuck my head in my locker so I wouldn’t scream.
That’s how it was all day. Not my head in my locker – just trying not to scream. Each time a teacher or someone said ‘dad’ or ‘father’ it seemed as though everyone held their breath while they swivelled around to look at me. Dead,death,dying and died were other words no one was comfortable saying in front of me. It was like spending the day in a zoo – I was sick of being stared at.
‘I’m sorry I can’t wait for you,’ Angel said at the lockers, ‘but I promised Lily I’d go shopping with her and her mum.’
‘That’s okay,’ I told her and watched her walk away. I waited until everyone had gone and then I slowly put my things in my bag. Most of the time I walked home by myself from school, but every so often, usually on a Monday, Dad would have been waiting at the front gate. He said it started the week off on a good foot.
It was Monday and he would never be waiting for me again.
I stood at my empty locker and thought about all the things that would never happen again. He’d never sing so loudly in the shower that we’d hear him from downstairs. He’d never burn bacon and eggs for the big Sunday breakfast. He’d never go to the library with me. He’d never go kite-flying with me. He’d never again ... just be there.
I swung my backpack on to my back. The school counsellor had told me I was welcome at her office anytime. Except she only worked part-time, so I should check her availability first. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to see anyone.
I trudged to the school gates, scuffing my feet. I picked out a little stone and kicked it along as I went. I was going after the stone I’d accidentally kicked into the gutter, when another black shoe kicked it back to me.
‘Hey!’ I said and looked up. It was Fergus.
‘Hey yourself,’ he said. ‘What’s taken you so long? I’ve been waiting here for ages.’
‘Why?’
‘To walk home with you,’ he said. ‘We live in the same street, der.’
We’d never walked home together before, but I didn’t like to say that in case it sounded as though I didn’t want to walk home with him. I did want to walk with him – very much – although now that we’d started, I wasn’t sure what to say. We walked in silence for half a block or so, kicking the stone between us until Fergus kicked it down a grating.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as though it might really matter to me.
‘It was just an old stone,’ I said.
‘So,’ he said, as though now that the stone was gone we could talk, ‘can I come and borrow that book?’
‘Sure.’ So much for him wanting to walk me home. He’d just been after the pirate book.
‘Got much homework?’
‘Not really.’
‘You could come and hang out at my place, if you want. There’s not much to do. I’m not allowed to watch television in the afternoon.’
‘I’d better see how Mum is,’ I said and then regretted it. I could have hung out with Fergus! What was wrong with me?
‘If she’s busy, or okay, you know. Anytime, right?’
‘Thanks. Thanks, Fergus. You, too. At my place. You know?’
‘Yeah. Yeah – we shop kids have to hang out together, right?’
I took Fergus through the front of the shop because I didn’t like going past Dad’s shed. Mum was on the phone.
‘Hey, sweetheart,’ she said, covering the receiver with her hand, ‘I’m on hold. I hate that. How are you, Fergus? Do you guys want a muesli bar?’
‘Yeah, sure, Mrs...’
‘Call me Lou,’ Mum said. ‘Mimi, get them
out, will you? I’m trying to enrol in this course.’
I took Fergus into the kitchen and poured him a juice.
‘Your place is nearly identical to ours,’ he said, looking around him. ‘But we’ve got a bungalow out the back, not a shed. That was because my gran was supposed to move into it, but she died before she could.’
I was so pleased that he didn’t look at me after he said the word died.
‘That was sad,’ I said.
‘Mum seemed pretty happy about it,’ he offered in a matter-of-fact kind of voice. ‘She said, thank God the old woman did something considerate once in her life.’
I must have gasped out loud because Fergus looked at me and laughed. ‘She was mean,’ he said, ‘and she hated my mum.’
‘That’s awful.’
Fergus shrugged. ‘It’s like that sometimes, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got grandparents. Well, I have got one, but she’s in a home. Mum said good thing, too, because it’s awful being a parent and not dy–’ I couldn’t say the word. It stuck in my mouth like a long bone.
Fergus covered my hand with his as though he was used to doing that. ‘These are your aunt’s muesli bars, aren’t they?’ he said after a while. ‘The hippy one, who’s seeing that old bloke?’
‘How did you know?’ My voice was a bit shaky, but Fergus didn’t seem to notice.
‘I came up to see if you were all right, but you were away. She was here and so was the old guy. He seemed to really fancy her.’
‘He came in yesterday and left his card. She came and got it. I think she’s going to ring him.’
‘Cool,’ Fergus said. ‘Hope he likes muesli bars!’
It wasn’t even a funny joke, but we laughed so loudly, Mum came out and shooshed us.
‘Sorry,’ Fergus said.
After that I went upstairs to get a book for him. I left him in the kitchen because it didn’t feel right inviting a boy into my bedroom. I had three copies of Treasure Island on my bookshelf because every time Dad had found a different edition, he bought it and gave it to me. I took out the newest one, a paperback with no illustrations. Then I put it back again. I knew Fergus wouldn’t mistreat a book, so I picked my middle favourite. It was a hardback, but there were some illustrations. The illustrations made the book better.
‘Thanks,’ Fergus said. ‘Wow! It’s really old, isn’t it.’
‘It’s not the oldest one I’ve got,’ I told him, ‘but it’s got good illustrations.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Fergus said, ‘you needn’t worry about that. Better be going. Thanks for the muesli slice. See you tomorrow!’
‘He’s a nice kid,’ Mum said as we watched him walk down the street. ‘I’ve always liked that family.’
‘He came to borrow a book,’ I said. I didn’t want her thinking he was a boyfriend or anything.
‘That’s great. And I’ve got good news, too. I’m doing a course in Internet Selling. It starts on Thursday and runs for five weeks.’
‘How are you going to do that and manage the shop?’ I asked.
‘It’s at night. I’ll get a babysitter for you, okay?’
‘No!’ I said. ‘No, that’s not okay. I’m not a baby. I can be here by myself.’
‘I don’t like the idea of you being by yourself, Mimi. What about one of the aunties?’
‘Mum! Aunty Marita will make me green sludge tea and Aunty Ann will give me lectures. No.’
‘Mimi! I need to do this course. It’s important for our future...’ Mum shut up quickly as a customer came in the door and I disappeared upstairs.
I’m not going to be minded, I told Ableth.
No need to be so fierce about it, Ableth said calmly. Although I don’t see the problem, myself. What’s wrong with sharing the evening with someone?
A babysitter isn’t someone. They’re someone being paid to look after you. Anyway all they do is talk for hours on the phone to their boyfriends or watch stupid television shows. It’s never as if you’re sharing anything with them.
The aunts, though.
Ableth! You’re being as bad as Mum. I’m old enough to be left by myself.
Mum reluctantly agreed with me in the end.
‘I suppose it is only from 6 until 9pm,’ she said. ‘I’d be home by 9.30. I’ll take my mobile. I can’t really see what could go wrong.’
See, I told Ableth later, I told you so.
You wait until you hear the wind in the rigging and the ghost steps of those who have walked the plank. You’ll want one of the old aunties then, pirate queen.
Nonsense, I told him. I’ve lived here all my life, Ableth. I know all the sounds this place makes and none of them frighten me.
He raised one eyebrow. It was infuriating that he could do that, just like my father, and I couldn’t, no matter how much I practised.
Swab the deck! I ordered him. Or twenty lashes for insubordination.
Ableth’s sulks didn’t worry me. I was too busy remembering how Fergus’s hand had felt on top of mine. I knew it didn’t mean anything, but it still made me happy and a little fluttery inside. I wondered if he would be waiting for me at the school gates the next day. Was that what he meant when he’d said ‘see you tomorrow’?
Apparently it was. After another trying day at school, during which Lily drew me aside and told me how sorry for me both she and Angel were and that they were going to make a point of hanging out with me for the rest of the school term to cheer me up, I almost couldn’t believe it when Fergus was waiting at the gates again.
‘The book’s really good,’ he said as soon as he saw me. ‘I love it! Some of the language in it is weird, but Mum understands it.’
I nodded. ‘Dad helped me with it,’ I admitted.
‘I’d love to be a pirate,’ Fergus said. ‘I’d love to live in another time, you know? With sailing ships. That would be something.’
‘You wouldn’t have computer games,’ I said.
‘I can’t be bothered,’ Fergus said. ‘I like building stuff. That’s what I do in my spare time.’
‘What do you build?’
‘Just stuff. I might show you sometime.’
We walked on in silence until we came to Fergus’s shop.
‘Mum said drop in tomorrow if your mum says you can. She’s making banana bread and we can both help,’ Fergus said. ‘Sorry. I nearly forgot. We’ve got a load of bananas that need using. She also said to ask your mum if she wants some. We’ve got kilos.’
‘Bananas,’ Mum said when I got back home and told her. ‘I suppose I could do a kind of gourmet muffin? The old ladies don’t like nuts, though.’
‘It’s weird what old people don’t like,’ I said, checking carefully to make sure the shop was really empty.
‘I like everything.’ Guy appeared from the back room. ‘Hello, Mimi. Good to see you again.’
‘Hello, Guy.’ I was pleased to see him.
‘Come to cadge some dinner,’ Guy said smiling, ‘and find some cheap treasures.’
‘Hardly cadge,’ Mum said, ‘but you can keep your hands off my stock, Guy.’
‘Darling,’ Guy said, ‘the only thing I madly covet is your dear Clarice Cliff tea set, and I know the price would be way beyond what a poor old codger like me could ever afford.’
I knew why Guy liked the tea set. It was my favourite, too. The teacups weren’t round, the way teacups usually are, and the whole thing was a pale green that made me think of spring.
Having dinner with Mum and Guy reminded me of dinners with Dad. They talked about the shop and Mum told Guy about the internet course she was going to do. Guy opened a bottle of wine and Mum washed two of the shop glasses so they had something stylish to drink it from. We had ice-cream and lemon tart for dese
rt and used the special dessert knives and forks with pearly handles from the set that had been in stock for weeks. Then we had herb tea, not in the Clarice Cliff tea set but in the cups with roses twining over them.
It was almost exactly like one of the special dinners Mum had made when Dad was alive – except Guy was there, not Dad, and Guy didn’t pour brandy into a balloon glass later and warm it near the candle flame before he drank it.
‘That was very pleasant,’ Mum said, waving Guy off from the shop door.
‘How come Guy didn’t come round much when Dad was ... before?’
‘We used to see him at the auctions,’ Mum said. ‘Sometimes we’d all go off to the pub together, afterwards. When you were little or later on, when we had that babysitter. But no, he didn’t drop in like that. There’s not a lot of space here for entertaining, Mimi. Also, your dad ... well, never mind that.’
I remembered my dad swirling the brandy in the glass. His fingers were often stained with varnish or polish from his restoration work. When he would stroke my cheek they felt rough with small cuts and scratches. When the brandy got low in the glass, his voice would become louder, his face would glow red and our small kitchen seemed to become even smaller. Everything seemed a little bigger now. Mostly that made me miss him more. And when it didn’t, I knew I’d been horribly mean, like when you’re really little and wish that you were adopted, and I hated myself.
On the night of Mum’s first evening class I was excited. Despite Ableth’s warnings, I was looking forward to having the whole place to myself.
‘Now, my mobile number is on speed-dial,’ Mum said, checking the contents of her basket, ‘and so is the police station number. Oh dear, I wish you’d let me ring one of the aunts.’
‘I’ll be fine, Mum. It’s only for three hours. What can happen in three hours?’
‘Anything,’ Mum said with total certainty.
‘Well, it won’t. I’ll be absolutely fine.’
‘Don’t forget to eat the rhubarb crumble.’
‘Mum. As if!’
‘Okay, darling. Wish me luck. I hope I’m not totally stupid at everything.’
Mimi and the Blue Slave Page 6