Sunny Side Up Part 10

You'll never believe what Buster's idea was for Pizza-AGo-Girl ? Wait for it . . . Doggie pizzas!

'Yeah, out of the sc.r.a.ps!' said Buster as he shaped some pizza dough into the shape of a bone. We all laughed.

'Dogs are big business you know a and I was even thinking we could make our own cooking show, 'cos I've got Uncle Quinny's camera. Then when Mum gets back she won't feel like she's missed out on anything a that's if she ever does come back . . .'

'Of course she will,' said Claud as we all nodded.

'But maybe it was all my fault that she went?'

'Naaaah,' I said, leaning against my pizza shovel, 'she was obviously just well overdue for an adventure. She'll be back, I can feel it in my intuition.'

Buster made doggie pizzas all night, including one for Willow in the shape of a cat, which he thought would help because it was psychological. Lyall did the deliveries, and Claud and Saskia and I finished up in the kitchen. I liked the dog pizza idea. I really did. It was cute. I just couldn't see how it made much business sense, which is an important consideration when you're an entrepreneur.

'Boy! That was the busiest night yet,' said Saskia, taking off her ap.r.o.n.

'Yep,' I said, counting the last of the money. 'We made $150.00. That's a record. Thanks guys!'

Claud wrote everything down, because we're meticulous about book work and keeping records.

'When do we get to actually spend the money?' said Lyall. 'What's the point of just keeping it in a jar?' I noticed he was pouring juice out of the bottle marked Saskia. That's how it is with brothers.

'Soon,' said Claud. 'But we've got to cover our overheads. We'll divide it all up at the end of June. That's when businesses work out their profits and have to pay tax.'

Mum came out to the shed with Willow racing along beside her. That Boris-shaped doggie pizza Buster made for her must have really worked, because she was looking like her old bouncy self again. Or maybe it was whatever he whispered in her ear, 'cos dogs understand stuff and maybe I hadn't been communicating properly.

'That was your dad on the phone Sunny,' Mum said excitedly. 'Steph's gone into labour and they're on their way to the hospital!'

It was absolutely and undeniably impossible to sleep knowing that Steph was in the middle of having a baby. I kept waking up all night.

Maybe she'd already had Flora, but Dad thought it was too early to call.

Or maybe there were problems with the birth. Even Willow tossed and turned on the bottom bunk, making groany noises.

I had just got to sleep when I was woken by the sound of the phone. I knew straightaway it would be Dad so I leapt out of bed.

'That's just wonderful, James,' said Mum, and mouthed to me It's a girl, while Carl came in with the Sat.u.r.day papers.

'Hey, Dad!' I grabbed the phone. 'Can I come down now? Is Steph okay? Mum said she'd drive me! Can I come? Can I come?'

It seemed to take forever getting to the hospital. We were stuck in traffic nearly all the way down Punt Road and there wasn't even footy on. Unfortunately it gave Mum loads of nagging time.

'I want you to promise me that you'll never lie to us again,' Mum said.

'I promise.' This time I didn't have my fingers crossed.

Then she told me about all the extra jobs I had to do, which was when it became totally obvious that she had talked it over with Carl after all. It was one of those moments where you really wish cars could fly. Maybe ours could be fuelled by some of the regret I felt about making such a mess of things, as well as some of the relief I felt at no longer having to keep in the secret that Dad and Steph's baby was a girl.

'Don't stay too long,' Mum said as she dropped me off and gave me a kiss. 'They've probably been up all night and Steph will need to rest.'

'Okay, I'll call you later. Thanks for the lift, Mum,' I said, slamming the door.

'And don't slam the door!' Mum called out, just a little bit late.

Steph was propped up in bed surrounded by big white pillows. I'd never seen anyone look so happy and so tired all at the same time, like she'd just won a marathon at the Olympics. Dad was asleep in an armchair next to the bed. I tippee-toed in, being careful not to wake him up, or Flora who was bundled up and fast asleep in Steph's arms.

'Look, Sunny, she's perfect,' whispered Steph. 'Come and see.'

Flora had the tiniest littlest hands, and her lips were perfectly rose-buddy red. I could tell you all sorts of cute and gorgeous things about Flora, but the thing that stuck out the most a which isn't really that cute and gorgeous a is that Flora had worry lines. Already! I mean, what is there to worry about floating around in someone's tummy when you're not even born yet? Maybe it meant that Flora was going to be an introvert, like me. She had three little worry lines across her forehead and a frown line right between her eyes. It was going to take her years to learn to talk, and to be able to tell me what she was so worried about. Maybe it was the lack of sugar.

'Sit down, Sunny,' said Steph patting the bed next to her. 'You can hold her if you like.' Steph wriggled over and I sat down.

'There you go, Flora,' whispered Steph, as she pa.s.sed the little bundled Flora gently over to me. 'It's your very own big sister Sunny.'

Flora hardly weighed anything, and I felt suddenly frightened that I might drop her, or that she might fall out from the bottom of the blanket, because I heard of that happening once and the baby got brain damage.

'She's the cutest,' I said, edging further onto the bed. And Flora did the tiniest baby sneeze, which was seriously the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.

Dad's phone rang, but luckily it just vibrated silently in his pocket so it didn't give Flora a fright.

'It's your mother,' he said waking up and looking at his caller ID.

'Hi Alex,' he said croakily. 'Thanks a yes, we're all still here a Sunny's having a cuddle now a Yes thanks a Yes, it was a long night a She did really well a Seven pounds four a A little bit, she's got the same dark hair as Sunny a No, quiet as a mouse a Really? Oh, that's terrible. How did you hear? a Will I tell her? a Are you okay? a Was it a sudden thing, or a Okay, okay, bye.'

I couldn't even say congratulations to Dad because I could tell by the look on his face that he had something important to say.

'Bad news I'm afraid, Sunny. I'll come straight out with it a it's Granny Carmelene. She died in her sleep last night.'

Can you believe it? My baby sister got born and my Grandmother died all in the middle of the same night! It was as if the news about Granny Carmelene thunderstruck all my feelings away. I just didn't think it would happen that soon. Sometimes knowing something is going to happen doesn't make it any less of a shock when it actually comes around.

Dad gave me a lift back to Mum's and in the car I told him about Granny's CLL.

'Must have been quite a weight on your shoulders, Sunny, keeping that all to yourself.'

'Guess so. Seems weird now though.' It's not that I even felt sad, maybe because I knew Granny Carmelene felt so comfortable with the idea of dying and maybe because Flora arriving just made sad impossible.

'Did you know I've known that Flora was a girl ever since the ultrasound?' I said.

'Crikey, you kept that one quiet,' said Dad. 'I had no idea.'

But even though Granny Carmelene made dying feel like just another part of life, and I knew she wasn't afraid, it's still weird for the people who are left behind to have someone just disappear.

The only positive part about life making enormous things happen all at once, was that Dad completely forgot about nagging and making me promise to be a better person. I guess having a brand new perfect daughter made the older, slightly dodgy one seem not so bad.

When I got home, Mum and Carl were in the shed making a cup of tea. I was nervous about how Mum might be reacting to the news about Granny Carmelene. 'Hi guys,' I said.

Mum came over and gave me a hug.

'Hi, darling,' she said. 'How are you feeling?'

I shrugged. I didn't really know how I was feeling. 'I knew she was dying, Mum,' I whispered. And then my emotions came flooding over me. I suddenly realised how important Granny Carmelene had become and how I would never see her again. Willow burst into the shed, chased by Boris, and buried her nose in between my knees.

'Oh, Willow, it's all right,' I said tearily, patting her head. Boris took off outside and jumped up onto the fence, and Willow bolted out after him, trying to make out that she was in charge. That's how it is these days a Willow is the boss outside, and Boris is the boss inside the house.

If you didn't know someone had just been born and someone else had just died, you would swear it was just another ordinary day.

'She left a letter for you, apparently,' Mum said. 'It was found by the gardener, who was the one who discovered she had died and called me. She'd left our number by her bed. She must have known.'

'Yeah, but I still didn't think that when I kissed her goodbye after Ta.s.sie that it was actually goodbye.'

'Cup of tea, Sunny?' asked Carl. 'Biscuit?'

'No thanks,' I said. 'Where're Lyall and Saskia?' I was trying to change the topic. Just then, Carl's phone rang.

'That'll be them now,' he said, taking the call outside.

Mum was looking all bent out of shape. She was flicking through the newspaper but I could tell she wasn't actually reading it. Then she rummaged through her bag and handed me a photograph. It was an old black and white one in a silver frame that hadn't been polished for a while. It was a photo of Mum and Granny Carmelene when Mum was young, maybe just a bit older than me. They were outside Granny's big white-and-black house. Mum was leaning back into Granny Carmelene, who looked all glam like a movie star and had both arms around Mum, squeezing her from behind. Mum was smiling and looking like she was trying not to laugh, as if maybe Granny Carmelene was tickling her, or had just said something cheeky.

'You both look so happy,' I said.

'We were,' said Mum, 'in that moment.'

It made me feel sad again for Mum because that photo was solid evidence that the broken-down thing between her and Granny Carmelene hadn't always been that way. It made me wonder what Mum did with all the happy bits. Maybe she just b.u.t.ted them out in the garden while no one was looking, like a cigarette she wasn't meant to be smoking.

I felt as though if I stared at the photograph for long enough I might make it come to life, or maybe Mum could be pulled inside it, and her and Granny Carmelene could start again from that day forward, and could change the ending. Mum came and stood behind me, holding me the way Granny had held her in the photo.

'You keep it, Sunny,' she said, kissing the side of my cheek. 'So you know how I've always remembered her, underneath it all.' Then she started crying. I turned around and gave her a hug, noticing Carl and Willow hovering in the doorway, then both quickly turning away towards the garden.

'Don't cry, Mum. You'll make me cry,' I sobbed.

'You don't understand, Sunny,' Mum wept. 'It's not because I've lost her now, it's for the constant loss of what could have been.'

On the morning of Granny Carmelene's funeral, Mum gave me the envelope from Granny.

I could feel something heavy inside, and when I opened it there was a letter and a key.

My dearest Sunday, I feel these are my final words. It is a wonderful evening, this night, at the edge of this life. I'm certain there will be others.

Thank you for the lovely gift you were to an old lady who has so much a but also not enough a of the important things, like time and granddaughters. Take this key to my safety deposit box. I have left instructions with your father to show you the way. There is something there for you, which i'd like you to keep safe for me.

I am tired now, Sunday, so very tired. I can hear the sweetest music a that last song I sang, while you held my hand, is beckoning, like a siren.

I am not afraid. Tell your mother I'm so very sorry.

All my love to you Sunday, until we meet again, your grandmother, Carmelene Aberdeen xox 'Can't you come to the funeral with me?' I said to Mum as I put the letter back in its envelope, trying not to cry. 'Can't you change your mind?'

'I can't, sweetheart, I just can't do it. I'm sorry.' Her bottom lip went all wobbly, making me wish I could make it stop, like if I had the sort of mind that could remember jokes.

But I didn't have to go to the funeral alone a even though Dad couldn't come either because it was right at the same time as Steph and Flora were coming home from hospital. Claud offered to come, and then Buster asked if he could too, 'cos not only would he get to miss a day of school but he could also wear the suit that he'd bought from the op shop (and I guess he also didn't want to be alone 'cos he'd been feeling extra bad about his mum). Claud said that her brother Walter said that Buster had been crying in his sleep, and grinding his teeth. I was trying to practise having compa.s.sion, so I told Buster he could come.

Buster looked a million bucks in his suit, almost handsome even a but don't tell anyone I said that 'cos it doesn't mean anything. I think chimps are handsome too, remember?

I was worried that I'd cry too much at the funeral. I would have to do the crying for all of us, Mum and Granny Carmelene included. What if once I started I just couldn't stop? They'd have to take me away on a stretcher, and I'd get jabbed with huge needles while I tried to kick and scream the doctors away.

But as it turned out, Buster cried so much it made me not cry at all. Like he'd taken all the available tears for himself, which, if you ask me, is a totally typical boy thing to do. I mean, he didn't even know Granny Carmelene.

There was a coffin at the front of the church, and I wondered if Granny Carmelene was actually in it, or whether it was just for show. I kind of wanted to look inside, just to see what people wear when they're dressed up for their own funeral. I mean, who chooses that?

There were a lot of people in the church, and more arrived after the priest started speaking as though he and Granny Carmelene had been best friends.

'Carmelene Aberdeen was a remarkable woman. A woman of intelligence, dignity and enviable grace, who lived every moment as though it was her last.'

I was swept off on a tangent when I heard the word intelligence. It reminded me that I always find it hard to remember if it has one 'l' or two. Can you actually be intelligent if you can't spell the word intelligent? I mean, I know I'm intelligent (not a super brainiac) but I can't always spell inteligent. So does that mean I'm actually not intelligent at all? Buster nudged me with his elbow.

'Is that true?' he whispered.

'Is what true?' I realised I'd missed a whole chunk of what the priest said on account of being lost in my own thoughts, which was bad because it's not everyday you go to your Grandmother's funeral, and you'd think I'd have been able to stick with reality for an hour or so. I spent the rest of the service with my thumb nail just slightly digging into my finger, so that the discomfort would help me stay with the program.

Afterwards, Claud and Buster and I stood around outside the church until Claud took off to find a loo. I was hoping there'd be sandwiches. I didn't know one person and felt all awkward because maybe some of them knew about me. Right when I was thinking that, a woman came over to where we were standing.

'You must be Sunday?' she said holding out her hand. 'I'm Marjorie Featherston. Your grandmother told me so much about you. So lovely you could get to know each other the way you did.'

I shook Marjorie's hand. She had a thick mask of make-up and earrings like chandeliers that looked like they would hurt, for sure, or maybe even light up.

'h.e.l.lo,' I said, not knowing what to say next, and noticing Marjorie was looking quizzically at Buster, who was still snivelling.

'And you must be . . .?' She held her hand out to Buster.

'Buster Conroy,' he said. 'Yeah, me and Carmelgreen, we were, like, old mates,' he said. 'Like this.' And he held up two fingers twisted around one another.

'Really?' said Marjorie, looking to me for validation.

'How odd, she never said a thing a but that was our Carmelene, always the one to have a little something up her sleeve.'

'Yep,' I said, nodding and trying to nudge Buster without Marjorie seeing me. Sometimes a nudge is the next-best thing if you can't do the eyebrow.

'Well, lovely to meet you both. Are you coming to the burial?' I looked over to Buster whose eyes had flooded with fresh tears simply at the mention of a burial.

'No,' I said, 'I said my goodbyes in Tasmania.'

'Good for you! Very well then, look after yourselves,' Marjorie said, looking at Buster in a worried sort of way, before walking off.

'Sorry,' said Buster, 'I don't want to stop you going to your granny's burial.'

'Nah, it's true what I said. Besides, the whole being buried thing really freaks me out. I don't want to remember her that way. I want to remember her singing with the angels in King Solomon's caves.'

'Yeah,' said Buster wiping his eyes. 'I have one of them memories of my mum. It was one hot summer night and we were down at the beach, eating fish 'n' chips off the bonnet of Dad's car, and they was all happy and loved each other and Mum looked all pretty a sitting on the bonnet of Dad's car like she was on one of those Chicko Roll ads. That's what I remember,' said Buster with his eyes all welling up again, 'when I think of Mum.'

'Come on,' I said putting my arm around him. 'Let's find Claud and get the h.e.l.l out of here.'