Mimi and the Blue Slave

by Catherine Bateson

  ‘Forty-five to the lady on the left. Fifty, to the gentleman in the centre. Fifty, fifty? Any more bids. Fifty – these are going for a song.’

  ‘A carol,’ someone near us muttered and I would have laughed, but I was too worried that the woman was going to bid again.

  ‘Fifty – come on. These are a bargain. Mint condition, folks! Fifty, going, going – fifty-five to the lady on the left. Fifty-five I’ve got – and sixty to the gentleman in the centre. Sixty, sixty. One of these alone can fetch forty-five dollars in the States. Just one – and how many in this set? Boxed set, ladies and gentlemen. No children have been let loose near these ornaments, begging your pardon, Miss.’ The auctioneer nodded at me and I felt my cheeks blaze as everyone looked at me. ‘Sixty, sixty. Going, going – last chance lady. You’re letting these slip away, going. Seventy to the lady on the left. Eighty to the gentleman. Eighty, eighty ... anyone care to top eighty? Eighty with the gentleman in the centre. Eighty. Going, going – last chance, lady.’

  I watched her shake her head slightly and realised I’d been holding my breath. I breathed out slowly.

  ‘Going, going, gone. Sold to Number 54.’

  In the end Guy got practically everything he wanted for both himself and for the shop. Miriam came over to see us before we packed up.

  ‘Nice Christmas lights,’ she said. ‘Japanese, probably fifties at a guess? Milk glass. Great condition.’

  ‘Mimi saw them,’ Guy said and I heard a note of pride in his voice which made me feel really warm inside.

  ‘Well done, Mimi! Here – this is for you. So you never forget your first auction. No, don’t open it now. Here, let me look at you.’ She slipped a small packet into my hand and tilted my face so she could examine it more closely. ‘Those eyes. They’re Doug. Darling Doug.’ She bent and kissed me suddenly on the forehead. ‘My love to your mother, Mimi, and if there’s anything I can do just tell her to call. We all miss him so much. Tell her we all love her and can’t wait for her to come back.’

  ‘So,’ Guy said when we’d got the dog settled in the car and he’d carefully packed his goods away in the boot. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I want to go again, please,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot to learn, though, isn’t there?’

  ‘Takes time,’ Guy said, ‘but it’s no harder than anything else you have to learn. It’s easier than, say, physics. And better, really. At the end of the day you’ve got something you can touch, something you can walk around. Something of beauty, like the little Christmas decorations. And you got a dog, Mimi. That’s a bit of an accomplishment! Plus Miriam gave you a present.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I nearly forgot.’ I unwrapped the little tissue packet. ‘Oh, Guy!’ She’d given me the marcasite necklace that I’d picked out in the cabinet. ‘I can’t take that,’ I said.

  ‘She gave it to you. She wanted you to have it. Here, let me do the clasp. It suits you, Mimi. Miriam knew it would. It suits you down to the ground. You’ll have to keep it. Every dealer needs a signature. This can be yours, for the time being.’

  I patted the angel wings at my throat. ‘Everyone was so lovely,’ I said and tears welled in my eyes.

  ‘Hop in the car,’ Guy said gruffly. ‘Time for you to go home.’

  He waited until we were driving and then he said, ‘The thing with this trade is that it’s a bit like family. Everyone’s in it to make money, of course, but they love it, too. You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t. What would be the point? So that love spills over to the people, providing they don’t rip you off. Doug never ripped anyone off – he was a generous man, Mimi, and he’d always appraise a bit of furniture you picked up, or even give you a good deal on a bit of a polish and repair. People appreciate that. You’re part of the family.’

  ‘I’ll try to be a good part,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to learn everything I can. I mean it, Guy.’

  ‘Don’t stress too much,’ Guy said, ‘you might want to be something different. You might want to be a doctor or a bank teller or ... I don’t know.’

  I knew I didn’t want to ever be a doctor or a bank teller or a real estate agent. I wanted things in my life you could walk around, beauty that was yours, even briefly. I was part of the family and I’d make them proud of me.

  Mum wasn’t in bed when we got home but up in the kitchen with a pot of tea freshly brewed and some raisin toast ready for us.

  ‘Oh, heavens,’ she kept saying as we told her all about the night. ‘Fancy going to an auction and coming home with a puppy! Crane’s a dear man, a dear, dear man. And the little necklace, Mimi – so lovely of Miriam. But didn’t you deserve it, spying those Christmas decorations. What a find! We’ll put up such a display, won’t we darling. Doug would have been so proud.’

  Despite her mentioning Dad, Mum ate a whole piece of toast. She kept reaching across to pat the dog’s ears.

  ‘We’ll have to find a name for her. Let’s brainstorm it in the morning, Mimi. Heavens! Look at the time. Bed for you. You must be exhausted.’

  I was. I cleaned my teeth while Mum took the puppy out and then the puppy and I trailed upstairs to bed. I had to put my pirate teddy away so she wouldn’t chew it but she soon settled on the end of my bed.

  ‘She should be in the laundry,’ Mum said, ‘but maybe just for tonight. I’m so proud of you, Mimi.’ When I kissed her goodnight back, I could taste the faintest trace of salt on her cheek but I decided that it was from happy tears, not sad tears. Who could be sad seeing the puppy, the little reindeers and the cat, playing her mandolin? Now I couldn’t wait until it was time to put up the Christmas tree.

  I wanted a piratical name for the puppy. I was still trying to find one when she woke me up. It was way too early, but she was whining and licking my ear at the same time. She wanted to go out. I wrapped my dressing gown around me and went down the stairs. I let her out in the backyard and shivered. Later the day would be warm, I could tell, but this early it was cold.

  ‘What I really want,’ I told her as we climbed back up the stairs together, ‘is some kind of contraption that I can tug on to open the backdoor for you while I stay in bed.’

  That’s what made me think of her name – Pippi – after Pippi Longstocking. It was reasonably piratical – Pippi’s dad was the cannibal king and she had a parrot, I remembered, and a monkey. She’d also been good at figuring out contraptions. I was going to use her floor-washing technique when I lived in a house of my own – it involved skating with mops tied to your feet.

  ‘You can be Pippi,’ I told the puppy. ‘I think that’s a perfect name. Don’t you?’

  She wagged her tail so enthusiastically she nearly toppled off the step. I picked her up and took her into Mum’s room.

  ‘I thought of a name,’ I said. ‘Mum!’

  Mum’s hand slunk out of the bedclothes and she groped around for the clock on her bedside table.

  ‘It’s nearly six-thirty,’ I told her helpfully.

  ‘What are you doing up?’

  ‘Pippi – that’s her name – Pippi wanted to go out.’

  ‘Pippi?’ Mum half-raised her head to look at us. ‘Oh, the dog. Of course. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘How could you forget?’ I felt hurt for Pippi’s sake and covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear.

  Mum shrugged, ‘Well, not forgot exactly. Just put it out of mind. Pippi – after what?’

  ‘Pippi Longstocking! You know, the girl with the striped socks, weird plaits and the parrot? The book, Pippi Longstocking.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mum sat up. She finally looked mostly awake. ‘Oh, good idea. Yes. Pippi’s a good name, Mimi. Well done.’

  ‘Can we have a naming party?’ I asked. ‘We could invite everyone over to meet her and have afternoon tea. In the backyard, maybe. With the shop cake forks we haven’t sold yet?’

  Sometimes, before Dad had died, Mum would make us a special picnic after
noon tea and Dad and I would sit outside in the backyard, with cake plates and forks from the shop. Mum would even close for fifteen minutes and join us – or, if it was late enough, shut the shop a little early. We’d use pretty cups from the shop and Dad would put on a very posh accent and pretend we lived in old-fashioned times when ladies wore long dresses and went to balls. When we’d finished, we’d wash up the plates, cups and forks very carefully and put them back in the shop.

  ‘We could make special dog biscuits for Pippi. Oh Mum, please! We haven’t done anything like that for ages. We could invite Edie and the aunties and Guy and – it would be so much fun.’

  Mum shut her eyes as though I was shining too bright a light in them, even though I hadn’t turned on any lights at all. She put her hand up to her forehead and I knew we weren’t going to have a naming day party for Pippi. Pippi’s ears drooped.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. I didn’t care if I sounded sulky. It wasn’t fair. I’d stayed up until way past my bedtime, found the Christmas ornaments, got us a dog and got up early to let the dog out, but none of that mattered. Nothing I did made any difference.

  ‘Can we talk about it later?’ Mum asked but she didn’t even open her eyes.

  ‘I said, don’t worry about it.’ I went out of the bedroom, closing the door a little harder than I would have normally. It was silly going back to bed, so I got dressed and had breakfast on the back doorstep with Pippi. We hadn’t had a chance to get her any real food, so she had a bit of my toast and then I put her on her lead, took some money from the till and walked down to the supermarket. I didn’t even tell Mum where I was going.

  It didn’t matter, though, because she wasn’t even up by the time I got back. I’d bought dog food, two dog bowls and a toy for Pippi. I’d added a special macadamia nut bar for my school snack. There was no change left and I didn’t care.

  I took Pippi outside into the yard and we played around with the ball for a while, after she’d had a bit more to eat. The yard, providing the gates were closed and locked, was perfect for a dog. There was nowhere she could get out, but there were little places she could sniff around and enough space to chase a ball.

  I knew she was going to miss me when I went to school, though, because she followed me everywhere. Mum was simply going to have to get up to look after her when I was gone.

  I waited until I’d cleaned my teeth and packed my lunch in my bag, then I went back into Mum’s room.

  ‘I’m going to school,’ I said in my coldest pirate queen voice. ‘You are going to have to get up and look after Pippi. She’ll be lonely when I’m gone.’

  Mum raised her head. Her eyes were all red and puffy. She’d been crying. I still didn’t care. ‘Can you bring her in here?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I can’t. She’s had some breakfast. I went to the supermarket and got dog food for her. I don’t want her to have an accident inside. You’ll have to get up.’ I was angry and my voice shook a little but I kept it sounding cold. ‘You have to get up before I leave for school and I’m leaving in one minute otherwise I’ll be late.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mum’s voice sounded shaky too, but she pulled the covers down and stood up beside the bed. She was in her pyjama pants but the same T-shirt she’d been wearing yesterday as the top. She must have seen my look because she glanced down at it. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I just forgot to change.’

  I shrugged. ‘Are you up? Really up?’

  ‘Yes, Mimi. I’m up.’ I thought she was going to cry again but she just pressed her lips tightly together.

  ‘I’m off, then. Pippi’s outside. You’ll have to buy her a little dog bed. They’ve got them at the cheap shop.’ I looked at Mum. She stood a little straighter as though I was a teacher. ‘She’ll be good company,’ I said more gently and – even though I hadn’t meant to – I gave her the smallest of hugs before I left.

  Well done, Ableth said, meeting me on the stairs. Grit and style, my queen. Not without compassion though. Walk the plank, but let me give you a hug first.

  I didn’t make her walk the plank, I told him crossly, picking up my schoolbag. Getting out of bed in the morning isn’t walking the plank. Don’t be such a drama queen.

  It might be if you felt that every day you were being fed to the sharks, he said and then disappeared.

  I gave Pippi a hug and explained that Mum was coming down to be with her and that I would be back early in the afternoon and then I’d take her for a walk. In my head, I was already inviting Fergus to come along with us.

  By the time I’d hugged Pippi, Mum was standing in the kitchen. She hadn’t brushed her hair or even put on her dressing gown, but she was getting the coffee out of the fridge. Before I could squeeze past her, she’d grabbed me in a big hug and buried her face in my hair.

  ‘I love you, Mimi,’ I heard her say through my hair. ‘Don’t give up on me, will you?’

  ‘I won’t,’ I said into her T-shirt. ‘I won’t give up, Mum.’

  I was half-crying by the time I got out the front door. I stood for a minute to wipe away the tears as though my eyes were running from hay fever. Two seagulls watched me from the streetlight. I shot at them with my imaginary pirate pistol but they didn’t move. I could just see the Very Veg and I knew in about thirty seconds Fergus would walk out and look up to my end of the street. I couldn’t wait to tell him about Pippi. And I would have a naming day. We deserved it, Pippi and I. I just had to work out how to do it.

  ‘A dog,’ Fergus said enviously. ‘That’s so cool, Mimi. And the old guy just gave her to you. How lucky is that?’

  ‘I know,’ I was skipping beside him. ‘He’s got visiting rights, of course.’

  ‘So is that like access weekends?’

  ‘Access weekends?’

  ‘You know, where you spend the weekend with your dad? When your parents split up?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘It’s more like dropping into the shop from time to time and patting her. His body corp won’t let him have two dogs. What’s a body corp, do you think, Fergus?’

  Fergus shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with the army?’ he suggested. ‘Like, short for Corporal?’

  I thought of Crane. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘I think it had to do with where he lived.’

  ‘It’s all complicated, isn’t it? When you grow up? I don’t think I ever want to grow up.’

  I looked at Fergus in surprise. He was the sort of kid I’d imagined couldn’t wait to be old enough to live his own life. ‘It doesn’t seem that bad,’ I said.

  ‘It’s all right for you. Your shop’s fun – auctions at night, dogs and necklaces. You get to do cool stuff. What do we do? Fruit and vegies, organic pesto, homemade shortbread, Daintree coffee and bunches of flowers. Nothing to look forward to there.’

  I thought of Mum, trying to get out of bed, and Edie buying a biker jacket so she looked tough even though her heart was broken again. Maybe growing up was scary. But then I thought of Crane, Guy and Miriam. How they’d stood together in the auction rooms, buying each other coffee and chatting. I remembered Crane kissing Miriam on her cheek and her reaching up to pat his face, her long red fingernails dark on his pale skin. I remembered how excited Aunty Marita had been about meeting her gentleman friend.

  ‘I think it’s okay, Fergus,’ I said. ‘Anyway, do you have to stay in the fruit and vegie shop? You could do something else.’

  ‘We’ve always sold fruit and vegies,’ Fergus said. ‘Since your great-great-grandfather was a little boy and further than that, probably. We’re fruit and vegie sellers. That’s what we do, Fergus.’ He imitated his dad per fectly. ‘You know, when Mum wanted to call me Fergus, World War Three broke out. That’s how she describes it, anyway. We’ve always been Giovannis. My great-great-grandfather, et cetera, et cetera.’

  ‘See,’ I said, ‘that was a change, w
asn’t it? If your mum could change that, you can change stuff.’

  ‘Oh.’ Fergus stopped and looked at me. ‘Oh, I’d never thought of it like that before. Thanks, Mimi.’

  He looked at me as though I’d given him a present. His smile sang through my whole day and made me feel as though I’d been right, too, to make Mum get out of bed. Which I hadn’t done for myself, anyway, but for Pippi.

  It was a long day because I kept wondering about Pippi and how she and Mum were getting on. I hoped Mum had put her bed in the shop and that Pippi was behaving herself. I hoped she wasn’t a furniture-chewer. I hadn’t even thought of furniture-chewing until Angel told me at recess that her uncle’s dog had completely – completely! – demolished a brand-new couch when he was a puppy.

  ‘Gosh,’ I said, quaking. ‘Pippi’s really quite small, Angel. What kind of dog did your uncle have?’

  ‘He was brown with a white chest,’ Angel said. ‘I can’t remember anything else.’

  ‘But he must have been big. Did he eat the couch?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Angel said. ‘I think he just chewed the legs off it and a coffee table. My aunty was mad. She came round and spent the night at our place. Oh, Mimi, when can I come round and meet her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Mum’s just not very well at the moment. But maybe we could meet at the beach sometime on the weekend?’

  ‘I’ll have to ask Mum. I could text you, if I’m allowed to go.’

  ‘I don’t have a mobile, Angel,’ I pointed out, a little crossly. Angel knew I didn’t have one. She was just showing off.

  ‘I’ll MSN you, then. Oh no, that’s right. You can’t do that either, can you?’ She was bitchy all of a sudden. Angel could be like that. You had to have a lot of practice at being Angel’s friend, to not get put off by her sudden moods.