Sunny Days and Moon Cakes

by Sarah Webb

  During lunch, Dad asks Rosie how we are getting on.

  “Very well, thanks,” she says. “Sunny is great company.”

  Dad looks surprised at that. I guess he’s not used to people describing me as “great company”.

  “We were looking at an art book this morning and she has excellent taste,” Rosie adds.

  “She’s got a good eye, all right,” Dad says. “So what’s the plan for this afternoon? Something a bit more scientific, I hope.”

  “Smiles!” Mum glares at him.

  Dad puts his hands in the air. “Ignore me. It’s just…” He breaks off and sighs. “I really want this to work, that’s all. Sunny means the world to us.”

  “I understand, Smiles,” Rosie says. “But these things take time. You can’t expect immediate results. And pressure is the last thing Sunny needs right now. She has to feel supported and accepted. You need to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re right,” Dad says. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. You’re the expert. And I do trust you. And, Sunny, I don’t mean to put pressure on you. We just want you to be happy.”

  I press my hand on his to say, I know, Dad.

  “And since you were asking, we’ll be playing Monopoly this afternoon, Smiles,” Rosie says. “But there is a scientific reason for it, I promise.” She grins at him, her eyes twinkling. I’m starting to like Rosie more and more.

  Once lunch is cleared away, Dad goes back to work and Rosie goes upstairs to fetch her rucksack.

  “Everything all right, Sunny?” Mum asks when Rosie’s left the kitchen.

  I listen for Rosie, but I can’t hear her. She must still be upstairs. “Yes,” I say, my voice mouse-like.

  “You’re doing great.” Mum gives me a hug. “I’m really proud of you. Rosie’s nice, isn’t she?”

  I hear Rosie’s footsteps in the corridor so I just nod.

  When Rosie comes back into the room, she tells me that we are going to try something called “sliding in”. “You’re going to play Monopoly with your mum and I’m going to sit outside in the hallway,” she explains. “Then in five minutes I will come back in, but I want you to keep talking to your mum as if I’m not there. I’ll only stay one minute and I won’t say anything. Do you think you can do that, Sunny?”

  The hot worried feeling swamps my body again. I can’t do that. I want to, but it scares me too much.

  “Sunny?” Rosie asks gently. “Can we try?”

  I shake my head furiously.

  “OK then.” She doesn’t sound cross, thank goodness. “How about if I stay outside the room with the door closed to start with? Can you show me how far away I need to be for you to feel comfortable talking normally?”

  “Will you go outside the door and show Rosie, pet?” Mum asks me. I can tell from the intense concerned look on her face that she really wants me to try this. I give a tiny nod and lead Rosie out of the room. Mum comes with us.

  “How about here?” Rosie asks, pointing halfway down the corridor.

  I shake my head and point at the chair further down the hall, right by the front door.

  “Will you use your normal voice if I sit there?” Rosie asks. “Not a whisper. The kitchen door will be closed.”

  I think about this for a second. If the door is closed, then, yes, I think I can do that.

  I nod.

  Rosie smiles. “Good for you, Sunny. That’s a very positive start.”

  With Rosie outside in the hall, Mum and I set up the Monopoly board on the kitchen table. It’s Mum’s game from years ago and the box is faded and battered, but I love playing it even more because of that.

  “What do you want to be?” she asks, picking up some of the small metal playing pieces and showing them to me. “Car, top hat or dog?”

  I take a deep breath. “Dog,” I manage to say, surprising myself. My voice is low, but it’s more than a whisper. I did it! I said something, even though Rosie is just outside. She can’t possibly hear my voice – all the wooden doors in the castle are centimetres thick – but it’s still a huge thing for me.

  Mum must think so too because her eyes have gone suspiciously glittery and she blinks a few times before she says, “I’ll be the car. And the bank.” When we play as a family, she’s always the bank. Min can’t be trusted with the money, I find doing the bank too much like maths and Dad says it reminds him of work.

  We start playing Monopoly together, just like a normal mother and daughter. When I land on Dawson Street, my favourite property, Mum asks me if I want to buy it.

  And I say, “Yes, definitely!” really loudly, which makes her smile so widely I think her mouth is going to crack.

  “I thought you’d say that,” she says.

  I’m about to ask to buy another property when I hear a noise outside the door.

  A second later, Rosie walks in. “How are you getting on, Sunny?”

  I shrug.

  “She owns half of Dublin at this stage.” Mum waves at the Monopoly board. “She always wins.”

  “And you were OK talking when I was in the hall?” Rosie asks me.

  I nod.

  Rosie smiles. “Good for you. Now I’m going to ask you to do something incredibly brave, Sunny. When I leave the room this time, I’m going to leave the door open a tiny crack, but I want you to continue talking as normal.”

  With the door open, she’ll be able to hear my voice. I can’t do it – I just can’t.

  “I know this is stressful for you,” Rosie says. “But I’d really like you to try. Take a couple of deep breaths. Remember the art we were looking at this morning? Think of Monet’s lily pond – all green and peaceful. Shut your eyes and see if you can visualize yourself floating on that pond in a little rowing boat. Can you do that for me?”

  I breathe deeply and close my eyes. Then I imagine that I’m lying back in a boat and Min’s rowing me through the calm green water. When I open my eyes again, Rosie has left the room. The door is a tiny bit open, and I can’t take my eyes off it.

  “Sunny?” Mum says. “It’s your turn to throw.”

  I concentrate on the board again. I throw a six and a four and move my dog ten places, landing on Kildare Street.

  “Do you want to buy it?” Mum asks. She looks at me hopefully. I know she’s willing me to speak.

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it and nod. I can tell she’s disappointed, but she’s trying not to show it.

  We play for a while longer, until I have houses on all my pink properties. Every time Mum lands on one of them, she has to pay me lots of rent.

  When she lands on Dawson Street, I let out a cheer and punch the air. “Yay!” I say.

  Mum looks at me in astonishment. Her hand jumps to her mouth. “Sunny,” she says. “Oh, Sunny.” Then I remember – Rosie. She can hear me. I instantly go silent, but inside I’m happy and a little shocked. I said something in front of a stranger! OK, so it was only a cheer – barely even a word – and it only happened because I’d forgotten Rosie was there, but I did it.

  Mum gives me a huge smile. “You’ve nearly bankrupted me. Will we finish the game?”

  I draw my finger across my throat, to say, You’re dead, Mum. She just smiles.

  When we’ve finished the game, Mum calls Rosie back into the room.

  “From the grin on your face, Sunny, I’d say you were the clear winner,” Rosie says. “And was that you cheering? I heard a lovely happy sound at one stage. Good for you. That’s a huge achievement. Today has been really successful. We’ve reached two targets: you speaking while I was in the hall with the door closed and with the door open. You should be very proud of yourself. It’s been quite an intense day and I’m sure you’re tired. Thank you for all your hard work.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Mum says. “We appreciate it, don’t we, Sunny?”

  I nod. A wave of exhaustion hits me and I yawn, setting Mum and Rosie off.

  Rosie laughs. “Yawns certainly are contagious.”

&nb
sp; Rosie has to catch the four o’clock ferry back to the mainland. Mum goes with her to collect Min, who has been doing her homework at Alanna’s cafe after school. As soon as she gets back, Min comes into my room, uninvited, and starts bouncing up and down on my bed.

  “Who was that lady in the funny scarf with Mum?” she asks. “Your new doctor?”

  “Speech therapist, actually,” I tell her from my desk. I’m on my laptop, looking up some of the artists Rosie showed me earlier. “She’s called Rosie. She came just after you left for school.”

  “Why was she here so long?” Min asks. “What did you do all day?”

  “We baked fairy cakes and looked at art and played Monopoly.”

  Min stares at me. “That’s so unfair. I had to do a maths test today and it was horrible. But guess what Harry Lannigan did at lunch?”

  Just then Mum sticks her head around the door. “Min, leave your sister alone. You have homework to finish. We’ll talk over dinner.”

  Min rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She huffs out of the room.

  “So what else did you do with the Rosie lady?” Min asks as soon as we sit down for dinner. She’s like Goldie with a bone – she never gives up. “Play Connect Four?”

  I shrug.

  “You’re as bad as your father, Min,” Mum says for me. “All the activities had a purpose. Sunny has made wonderful progress already. She even spoke in front of Rosie.”

  Min’s mouth falls open “Really? A whole sentence, you mean, in front of a stranger? Finally!”

  “Don’t be unkind,” Mum says. “And, no, it wasn’t a sentence. It was a word – but it’s still a big breakthrough.”

  “Rosie was sitting in the hall while your mum and Sunny played Monopoly and they left the door open,” Dad explains. “Sunny shrieked or cried out or something when Mum landed on one of her properties. And Rosie heard her.” His voice sounds a bit flat. I get the feeling that he’s not as impressed by my “breakthrough” as Mum is.

  “Sunny said ‘Yay’,” Mum says proudly.

  “Yay?” Min pulls a face. “Is that it? It’s not even a word.”

  “Try to be more supportive of your sister, please, Min,” Mum says.

  “OK, that’s great, Sunny,” Min says quickly. “Well done. Now, can we talk about my day? It was so funny at lunch because Harry Lannigan got this piece of popcorn—”

  “Min, we were talking about your sister. Please don’t interrupt. And try to be a bit more patient, Smiles. Rosie’s coming back to work with Sunny after we get home from China. She’s hoping—”

  She’s cut off by a pea flying out of Min’s left nostril and across the table. The pea bounces off Dad’s chest and lands on the floor. Goldie jumps out from under the table and eats it off the tiles.

  “Yuck!” I say. “That was up Min’s nose, Goldie.”

  “Min, go to your room,” Mum says. “Right now.”

  “But I was just showing you what Harry Lannigan did with his popcorn today,” Min says. “No one ever listens to me.”

  “That was disgusting, Min,” Mum says. “You do not put food up your nose and snort it out like that. Ever. It’s dangerous and revolting. Leave the table, please. Now!”

  After jumping up from her chair, Min marches past us all, her face like thunder. As she passes by my chair, she mutters, “Stupid Sunny.”

  She’s such a delightful sister sometimes.

  Chapter 8

  Min’s been in a funny mood all week. She’s had several arguments with Mum over silly things, like yesterday morning when she tried to go to school in shorts with bare legs, until Mum stopped her and made her put woolly tights on underneath. Then earlier today she refused to take Goldie out because she said it was my turn. It turned out she was right, but Mum wasn’t happy about how stroppy she got about it. Thankfully, she seems to have snapped out of it by the afternoon. She comes home from school in a much better humour.

  “Can I go down to the cafe when I’ve finished my homework?” she asks Mum, dumping her school bag on the kitchen table. “Sunny, you can come too if you want. It’s nearly May Day and Alanna wants us to help her make some decorations.”

  “Oh, Mum, can we go?” I ask. “Please?” It would be nice to see Alanna, and I love May Day. Alanna always holds a special celebration at the Songbird, with a May Bush and everything!

  The first time Alanna told me and Min about the May Bush – which is actually a small tree covered in decorations – I thought she was joking.

  “It’s to ward off fairy mischief,” she said. “The fairies move from their winter residence to their summer palace on May Day and it’s always best to keep them happy when they’re marching. They like looking at pretty, shiny things so we leave coins for them under the tree, as well as cakes and buns. Most fairies have a sweet tooth.”

  Min put her hands on her hips. “Fairies? Are you teasing us, Alanna? Fairies don’t exist!”

  Alanna lowered her voice as she said, “Don’t let any of the older islanders hear you, Min. They all believe fairies are real. People believe in a lot of things that can’t be explained, like angels and gods, so why not fairies?” I looked at Alanna in surprise. I wanted to ask whether anyone on the island had actually seen a fairy, but of course I couldn’t. Having no voice is so frustrating.

  “What about you, Alanna?” Min asked. “Do you believe in them?”

  “I certainly do,” she said.

  “Then I believe in them as well,” Min said and I nodded. We’ve been firm believers ever since.

  It’s a dull grey day and the Songbird Cafe is quiet. Alanna is behind the counter when we arrive. As we walk towards her, she looks up and smiles. “Excellent timing, girls. Have you ever blown eggs?”

  “Is that some sort of weird game?” Min asks. “Like the egg-and-spoon race?”

  Alanna laughs. “No! We’re going to use painted eggshells to decorate our May Bush this year. So, ready to blow some eggs?”

  “Yes!” Min says excitedly, as she dashes through the kitchen door. Before I can follow her, Alanna puts her hand on my arm.

  “I’ve seen some of your drawings of the Little People, Sunny,” she says. “They’re amazing. Can you do a small one for the May Bush? I’ll roll it up and tie it with a ribbon like a little scroll. The fairies love special gifts.”

  I nod at her shyly. Alanna is one of the few people who has seen my drawings, and I’m proud she thinks my work is good.

  I cover the pages of my sketchbooks with lots of things – the castle, Click, Goldie – but my favourite things to draw are fairies, or the Little People, as Alanna calls them. Not pink Disney fairies with fluffy wings, but proper fairies in floaty dresses, with pointy ears, long limbs and big eyes. And my fairies come from all over the world. My Lotus Flower and Cherry Blossom fairies are Chinese, for instance, like me and Min. All my fairies are gentle and kind, but they are also clever and sometimes mischievous, because that’s how I imagine them. I’ve never actually seen one, of course. But maybe I will one day.

  “I’m waiting!” Min calls from the kitchen.

  When we walk inside, Min is tapping her foot impatiently. “How do we do this egg thingy then?” she asks.

  “With this.” Alanna picks up a large needle. She selects an egg, washes it and then carefully pricks holes in the top and the bottom of the shell, one a little bigger than the other. She holds the egg over a glass mixing bowl and gently blows into the smaller hole. The gooey centre starts to run into the bowl through the larger hole.

  “It’s magic,” Min says, clapping her hands together. “Can I have a go?”

  Alanna smiles. “Of course. We have dozens to do. I’m sure you’ll be very good at it, Min. You’re full of hot air.”

  “Hey!” Min looks offended.

  I grin at Alanna and she grins back.

  After Min and I have blown twenty eggs between us – and it’s a lot harder than Alanna made it look; Min breaks at least half of hers – Alanna comes back into the kitchen to check on us.
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br />   “How’s it going, girls?” she asks.

  “OK,” Min says. “But can we do something else now? My cheeks are sore from all the huffing and puffing. I feel like the wolf in The Three Little Pigs.”

  Alanna laughs. “Sure. They need to be decorated now anyway. You can paint what you like on them – butterflies, dragons or just a zigzag pattern. How about using a nice bright red paint like on those Chinese lanterns we made for Sunny’s birthday? That reminds me – your trip’s really soon. Are you excited? Do you remember much about China, Sunny?”

  I shrug. I wish I could tell Alanna how nervous I am about going back to China. I think she’d understand. I’d also like to explain that even though I love Mum and Dad, I miss Mama and Papa. Little Bird is my home, but sometimes I still feel like an outsider here. I can’t talk to Mum and Dad about any of this because I don’t want to upset them, and I don’t think Min would understand – she’s too young.

  I begin to feel claustrophobic in the small kitchen. I need some air, so I point to the door and Alanna nods. “It’s hot in here, all right, and you look a little flushed. Min, you stay here and decorate the eggs. I’m going to get some fresh air with Sunny.”

  “But I need help with the eggs!” Min says.

  “I know, but your sister needs me too.”

  “She always comes first,” Min mutters.

  “I’ll be back to help you in a few minutes, Min,” Alanna says. “I promise.”

  Once outside, I take a couple of deep breaths and gaze towards the sea, trying to calm myself down.

  The closer the trip to China gets, the more anxious I feel. I’m worried about all those strangers, about getting lost, but most of all about bringing back sad memories of my Chinese family and everything that happened in the orphanage.

  Alanna stands beside me, staring out into the bay. “It’s all right to be nervous about the trip. But, remember, you’re a lot stronger than you think.” She takes my hand and holds it tight. “You’ll find your way. I know you will. And I’m here if you ever want to—” She breaks off abruptly. She was about to say “talk”.