Water Wings Page 5

  As Pearl watched Gran mop up with the tissues, she felt a small grin of her own bubble up inside her.

  Who’d have guessed, she thought. A tough old chook like Gran getting upset over Winston.

  For a fleeting second Pearl had a powerful urge.

  She pushed it away.

  Don’t be a dope, she told herself.

  Even when they are a bit soft-hearted and need cheering up, feral grans don’t like kids trying to cuddle them.

  Even later, just as Pearl was about to drop off, Gran came into her room.

  ‘You asleep?’ she whispered.

  Fat chance of that, thought Pearl, with all the coughing you just did coming down the hall.

  ‘Not quite,’ she said.

  ‘Want a chocolate crackle?’ asked Gran.

  Pearl sat up.

  Gran, looming large in the light from the hallway, was holding a plate.

  ‘I can’t sleep sometimes,’ said Gran, ‘and a crackle or two seems to help.’

  Trying not to smile, Pearl clicked on the bedside lamp and Gran sat on the bed.

  ‘Dig in,’ said Gran. ‘Mind if I smoke?’

  Pearl shook her head and took a bite of crackle.

  It tasted a bit unusual.

  ‘I put muesli in ’em,’ said Gran through a mouthful, ‘and a bit of kelp.’

  Pearl decided she liked the taste.

  ‘What’s kelp?’

  ‘Dried seaweed,’ said Gran.

  Pearl wished she hadn’t asked.

  But they still tasted OK.

  ‘I like a bit of a midnight feast,’ said Gran.

  ‘Me too,’ said Pearl.

  She didn’t mention it was the first time she’d ever had one with anybody over eleven.

  ‘Should we invite Mitch?’ she asked.

  Please, she said silently, say no.

  ‘No,’ said Gran, ‘I had one with him just before we left. More than one a week’s not good for a kid.’

  Pearl nodded happily to show she agreed and took another crackle.

  ‘But,’ said Gran, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I did bring fish.’

  Pearl stared at her.

  Fish?

  With chocolate crackles?

  ‘His actual name is Frank,’ said Gran, ‘but everyone calls him Fish cause he was a top swimmer.’

  Pearl looked around the room.

  ‘My husband,’ said Gran. ‘I couldn’t bring him in person, of course, cause he died seven years ago.’

  Pearl stared at Gran again.

  She was starting to see where Mitch got being a loony from.

  ‘How did you bring him then?’ she asked cautiously.

  Gran started laughing, and then choking on her crackle. Red in the face, she pointed over her shoulder.

  For a scary sec Pearl thought she meant Fish was out in the hall.

  Then she understood.

  She whacked Gran on the back.

  Gran had a coughing fit.

  Bits of crackle pinged off Pearl’s wardrobe.

  ‘I saw what you were thinking,’ wheezed Gran when she could finally speak. ‘You were thinking I had a big freezer somewhere.’

  Pearl nodded.

  She hadn’t been, but with this woman anything was possible.

  Gran shook her head, then tapped it with her finger.

  ‘He’s in here,’ she said. ‘In my head. Not his actual body of course, cause then I’d have arms and legs sticking out my ears. But all the best bits of him. The bit of him, for example, that made him give up the chance to swim in the district championships cause I was having Howard’s sister. The backflips he did down the main street when an Aussie swimmer won a gold medal at some Olympics. Millions of bits.’

  Pearl smiled.

  If I’d been Howard, she thought, with a dad like that, I wouldn’t have wasted time at the boring old opera.

  ‘I invite the old bloke to lots of things,’ said Gran. ‘Just like you probably invite Winston to lots of things.’

  Pearl grinned and went to jump out of bed.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘Good idea. I’ll get him.’

  Gran held Pearl’s arm.

  ‘I don’t mean that poor frozen old carcass out there,’ she said quietly. ‘I mean the real Winston.’

  Pearl was speechless.

  Poor frozen old carcass?

  ‘That is the real Winston,’ she said indignantly. ‘I should know, I …’

  Gran was tapping her on the head.

  ‘The best bits,’ said Gran. ‘What was the funniest thing he ever did?’

  ‘Well …’ said Pearl doubtfully, ‘one was when Mum had some clients to dinner and they were still here really late and making a lot of noise and Winston got over-tired and went into the bedroom where their coats were and tried to have sex with a fur jacket.’

  Gran roared with laughter, then had a coughing fit.

  Pearl whacked her on the back.

  Bits of crackle pinged around the room.

  ‘And what was the kindest thing?’ spluttered Gran.

  ‘The night Dad left,’ said Pearl quietly. ‘Winston came into bed without me asking him to and slept really close to my face and soaked up quite a lot of the tears.’

  Gran nodded thoughtfully.

  Then she told Pearl some more of Fish’s best bits and Pearl told her lots more of Winston’s and there was a fair amount of coughing and whacking.

  ‘I’ll never forget Fish’s funeral,’ said Gran, munching her half of the last crackle. ‘He wanted his ashes scattered in his beloved municipal swimming pool, so we did. Trouble was, it was empty cause of the drought and the council cleaners swept it out the next day.’

  Pearl stared, horrified.

  Gran grinned.

  ‘Don’t reckon it mattered to him that much,’ she said. ‘He ended up on the tip and he always liked the view from there. Didn’t matter to me cause I had all the bits of him I wanted up here.’

  Gran tapped her head again.

  ‘You planning to have a funeral for Winston?’ she asked.

  Pearl didn’t answer.

  ‘Let me know if you are,’ said Gran. ‘I’m pretty hot at organising funerals.’

  Suddenly Pearl felt very tired.

  She turned off the bedside lamp.

  ‘I think we should stop now,’ she said. ‘Good night.’

  9

  Pearl knew it was a dream, but it was still scary.

  She and Winston were in the backyard watching Gran dig a hole with a big plastic spade.

  At first Pearl thought it was going to be a swimming pool for Mitch.

  Then the fruit shop van delivered a coffin.

  Gran started complaining that the digging was making her fluffy slippers dirty and asked Pearl to take over.

  ‘No!’ screamed Pearl and woke up.

  She could hear what sounded like a loud motor.

  Oh no, she thought, Gran’s got a mechanical digger.

  Then she realised it was the blender.

  Pearl staggered out to the kitchen.

  Gran was standing at the sink pouring lumpy brown goo from the blender into a glass.

  ‘Want some health sludge?’ she asked.

  Pearl shuddered.

  ‘No thanks,’ she said, and hurried over to the freezer.

  Winston was still lying on his slice of bread.

  Pearl reached in and wiped some of the ice off his fur. She noticed that one of his ears was bent round at an angle. Carefully she straightened it.

  It snapped off in her hand.

  Pearl stared at it, horrified.

  ‘Oh no,’ she gasped. ‘Winston, I’m sorry …’

  ‘He didn’t feel a thing,’ said Gran softly, taking the ear from Pearl. ‘Trust me.’

  She dipped the edge of the ear into her glass of health sludge and stuck it back on Winston’s head.

  Then she closed the freezer door and leant against it.

  Pearl wanted to push her out the way and run back to her r
oom with Winston and hug him for hours.

  Except she was terrified other bits might snap off.

  ‘I’ve decided,’ said Gran, ‘that today’s the day for getting rid of junk.’

  Pearl got ready to wrestle Gran.

  No way was she going to let Winston fall into the clutches of a woman who reckoned he was junk.

  ‘I’ve got some stuff stored over at Howard’s place I haven’t had a squiz at for a million years,’ said Gran. ‘Want to give me a hand?’

  Pearl digested this.

  Mitch wandered in, rubbing his hair with a towel.

  ‘Today’s a school day,’ said Pearl. ‘I’ve got to be there in twenty-five minutes.’

  Gran swigged the health sludge.

  ‘School’ll be there tomorrow,’ she said. ‘How often does your Gran come to visit?’

  ‘That’s right,’ grinned Mitch.

  Pearl thought about Craigette Benson and the hilarious vampire graffiti she was probably scrawling in the girls’ toilet at that moment.

  I can’t even take Winston to school to keep me company, thought Pearl. Not till his ear sets.

  She looked at Gran.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘but we’re not going anywhere near the pet cemetery.’

  It was a struggle, but finally they got the trapdoor open in the ceiling of Howard’s spare bedroom and climbed into his roof cavity.

  ‘Only tread on the beams,’ wheezed Gran, ‘or you’ll fall through the ceiling and give Howard airconditioning he won’t really want.’

  Gran led the way along a beam through the dusty gloom.

  Pearl felt cobwebs drag against her hair.

  She sighed.

  ‘Never a dull moment with Gran, eh?’ whispered Mitch.

  Don’t know why he’s so cheerful, thought Pearl gloomily. Doesn’t he realise grans are meant to be dull? Dull and small and neat and cuddly with a strong preference for tea and scones and flower arranging rather than beer and chocolate crackles and funerals.

  ‘Bugger,’ said Gran, and rubbed her head where she’d banged it on a roof support.

  Pearl wondered if Gran banged her head much.

  It would account for some of her behaviour.

  ‘Hey-up,’ said Gran. ‘Here’s the go.’

  She was shining her torch at a pile of old wooden boxes.

  Pearl did the same.

  Spilling out of the boxes were dusty old toys, books, clothes, shoes and tyre inner tubes.

  ‘Righto,’ said Gran. ‘Let’s get all this shifted down and then we’ll get a taxi to the tip.’

  Pearl grabbed a box, then had a thought.

  ‘Instead of dumping all this,’ she said, ‘why don’t we give it to the Salvation Army. They fix this sort of stuff up and give it to kids.’

  ‘OK,’ said Gran. ‘Good thought.’

  They started dragging the boxes back along the beams.

  Pearl had another thought.

  ‘We should sort through it first,’ she said. ‘There might be some stuff you want to keep.’

  ‘It’s all going,’ wheezed Gran.

  Boy, thought Pearl, some people really don’t want to remember their childhoods.

  She wondered if she’d feel that way when she was ancient.

  She had a sinking feeling she already did, so she made herself think about something else.

  The tyre inner tubes were sticking out of her box. Now she was close to them, she wasn’t sure if they were inner tubes. They were too small and fat and pink.

  Pearl picked one up and realised what it was.

  ‘Gran,’ she said, ‘are these floaties yours?’

  Gran peered through the gloom.

  ‘They’re called water wings,’ she said. ‘Put them back.’

  Pearl dragged the other one out.

  ‘They’re just what Mitch needs,’ she said. ‘Even he could float with these on.’

  ‘Ripper,’ said Mitch.

  ‘No,’ said Gran.

  She snatched the water wings out of Pearl’s hands.

  At first Pearl assumed Gran was just being safety conscious. The rubber was cracking a bit in places.

  Then she saw Gran’s expression.

  Pearl had never seen so much sadness on one face.

  Not even on Winston’s the night Dad left.

  Gran’s face was so creased Pearl was worried it would start cracking too.

  Gran stared at the water wings for ages.

  Then suddenly she bent forward into the torchlight and stuffed them angrily into her box of junk.

  Her eyes, Pearl saw, were full of tears.

  Pearl had never seen anyone drink beer so fast.

  Three cans, gulp, gulp, gulp.

  ‘It was the dust,’ said Gran, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her dress. ‘That Salvo depot was almost as dusty as Howard’s roof cavity.’

  Then she went for a lie down.

  Pearl went to see Mitch.

  ‘Mitch,’ she said, peering through the steam. ‘can I have a word?’

  ‘Do you mind,’ squeaked Mitch. ‘I’m in the shower!’

  He tried to cover himself with the shampoo bottle.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Pearl, ‘we’re cousins.’

  Mitch frantically tried to wrap himself in the shower curtain one-handed.

  ‘Listen,’ said Pearl. ‘Why was Gran so upset about those water wings?’

  ‘Dunno,’ squeaked Mitch. ‘Perhaps she was wishing she’d looked after them better. Now rack off.’

  Pearl asked Winston what he thought.

  Winston didn’t seem that interested.

  Not so much as a glint.

  Then Pearl saw why.

  His whiskers had fallen off.

  ‘You poor thing,’ she said. ‘Here am I pestering you with other people’s problems and you’re suffering from terminal frostbite.’

  She turned the temperature in the freezer down a bit and put another couple of slices of bread into his crisper.

  But even while she was worrying about Winston, and wondering if he’d be better off in aluminium foil, she still couldn’t forget about the water wings and that look on Gran’s face.

  Gran was lying on the bed in a cloud of smoke.

  ‘Gran,’ said Pearl, after she’d tapped on the door and crept in, ‘can I tell you something?’

  Gran stared at the ceiling and didn’t answer.

  I think that’s probably a yes, thought Pearl.

  ‘I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to be too upset about your water wings being a bit perished cause the sports store in the main street sells them. I rang up and checked. They’re plastic, not rubber and they’re twenty-nine ninety-five.’

  Gran didn’t say anything for a while.

  Then she blew smoke out so hard it almost reached the ceiling.

  Oh dear, thought Pearl. They’re too expensive.

  Gran turned and looked at her with sad eyes.

  It’s a problem for old people, thought Pearl. They can’t keep up with the cost of things.

  ‘Is that why you were upset?’ asked Pearl quietly.

  Gran’s big hand flew out and grabbed Pearl’s arm.

  Tight.

  ‘I’m sixty-eight years old,’ said Gran, ‘and I’ve known you three days. Something you’ll learn, young lady, is that people don’t spill their guts about everything to people they’ve known three days.’

  Pearl’s heart was pounding and her arm was hurting.

  She felt her eyes getting hot.

  ‘Personal,’ said Gran. ‘Do you know what that means?’

  Pearl nodded miserably.

  ‘Good,’ said Gran quietly, letting go of Pearl’s arm. ‘Now hop it.’

  Pearl fled.

  She threw herself down in her room.

  OK Gran, she thought bitterly, have it your way. I won’t ever care about you again.

  Ever.

  Then she realised something was digging into her face.

  Something on the
carpet.

  She peered at it.

  It was a piece of chocolate crackle.

  Pearl sat up.

  Oh no you don’t Gran, she thought.

  You’re the only Gran I’ve got and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.

  I’m going to find out about those dumb water wings if it kills me.

  10

  Pearl’s feet were killing her.

  I bet I’ve never walked this far in my life, she thought wearily.

  Nearly there.

  She could see the old people’s home at the top of the hill.

  Keep going, she told herself. This is normal. You can’t expect to solve a mystery without a bit of leg pain. If you stop for a rest now your legs’ll go completely stiff and there probably isn’t a vacant wheelchair for miles around.

  She trudged on.

  To take her mind off the stabbing pains, she added up the total distance she’d walked so far.

  From the house to the Salvos depot must have been about one kilometre, though she’d used two kilometres of energy by running all the way in case someone else was in the middle of asking for the water wings.

  Bursting into the shop and finding nobody was and getting them herself and flopping down on the kerb weak with relief had taken a bit of energy too.

  But then spotting a name written on the water wings in faded ink and struggling to read the dodgy handwriting and finally working out it said Babs Cuncliffe had at least given her legs a rest.

  From the Salvos to the post office must have been about half a kilometre.

  Looking for a B Cuncliffe in the phone book and not finding one hadn’t been a rest because she’d had to do it standing up.

  From the post office to the cemetery had been another half a kilometre.

  Walking around not finding a gravestone with Babs Cuncliffe on it had probably been two kilometres, not counting losing her temper and kicking a marble slab and hopping about for a bit.

  From the cemetery to the Tobacco Co-op had been at least one-and-a-half kilometres.

  Just as well she’d been able to have a long rest when she got there while Mum’s secretary made a few enquiries in her capacity as vice-president of the Historical Society.

  Because when Mum’s secretary hung up the phone, she’d told Pearl that Miss Cuncliffe was living under her married name of Mrs Meadows in the Sunnyview Nursing Home near the airport.

  Mum’s office to the airport was four kilometres.