Water Wings Page 7

Mitch didn’t care.

  He stayed floating for a long time, face dreamy.

  Then he kicked himself to the side and took the water wings off.

  ‘I can do it without the wings now,’ he said, ‘I know I can.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Pearl doubtfully.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mitch.

  He lay slowly back in the water, and sank.

  As she came into the house, Pearl sniffed expectantly for dinner.

  Nothing.

  Must be the chlorine up my nose, she thought. Gran’s probably up to her elbows in stir-fry in the kitchen at this very moment.

  Pearl went into Howard’s big kitchen.

  Gran wasn’t at the stove, she was sitting at the table and she looked terrible.

  Her face was grey and her shoulders were slumped.

  Pearl stared at her in alarm.

  Then Pearl saw that Mum and Howard were standing up the other end of the table.

  Mum was staring at Gran too.

  Not in alarm, in exasperation.

  ‘Is this true?’ said Mum to Gran.

  Slowly, Gran nodded.

  Howard put his head into his hands.

  What’s going on, thought Pearl. What’s wrong?

  None of them had seen her.

  ‘If you knew this,’ said Mum to Gran, her voice sounding strange, ‘what on earth possessed you to think you could be Carnival Queen?’

  Before Gran could answer, Mitch burst into the kitchen waving the water wings.

  ‘I can float,’ he yelled. ‘Pearl got me these and I can float. Let’s put a pool next to your throne, Gran, and I can float on the float.’

  There was a long silence while everyone looked at everyone else.

  ‘What is it?’ said Pearl at last.

  ‘Mrs Elyard isn’t going to be Carnival Queen,’ said Mum quietly.

  ‘Why not?’ said Pearl.

  She wanted to shout it.

  There was another silence.

  Mum bit her lip.

  ‘Tell them,’ said Gran.

  ‘Doctor Unwin was at our dinner,’ said Mum, looking at the fridge, ‘and he told Howard something he thought Howard should know about his mother. How she’d been to his surgery this afternoon.’

  Pearl stared anxiously at Gran.

  Gran stared miserably at the kitchen table.

  Oh no, thought Pearl. You poor thing. You have got pneumonia. Or at least a bad chest cold.

  ‘Mrs Elyard asked the doctor for pain-killing drugs,’ continued Mum. ‘Because … because …’

  Pearl’s heart started scrabbling.

  Mum was never lost for words.

  ‘Because,’ said Gran quietly, ‘I’ve got lung cancer.’

  12

  Pearl lost track of time.

  People were talking, but she wasn’t sure if it was for minutes or hours. Gran seemed to be doing quite a bit of it. About the flood up her way.

  About the trip she made to the city with some of the other flooded-out people in an army plane.

  About the medical tests she had done on the quiet while she was there.

  About the doctor who told her she had lung cancer.

  About the specialist who told her it was too far gone to be cured.

  Then Mitch started crying and Howard started shouting about why hadn’t Gran told people.

  Dimly, Pearl heard Gran say ‘I didn’t want to upset everyone.’

  Howard and Mum got upset and told her that was ridiculous.

  They started talking about hospitals in Sydney and second opinions, but Pearl didn’t follow much of what they were saying.

  Because suddenly her mind was racing.

  Suddenly she knew what had to happen.

  ‘Wait!’ she shouted.

  The others stopped talking and stared at her.

  ‘Why can’t Gran still be Carnival Queen?’ she said.

  Mum took a very big breath and snatched Gran’s cigarettes off the table.

  ‘Because,’ she said, ‘the Tobacco Carnival is to celebrate the growing of, surprise, surprise, tobacco.’

  She thrust the packet of cigarettes in Pearl’s face.

  Pearl read the words printed on it.

  SMOKING CAUSES LUNG CANCER

  ‘Exactly,’ Pearl shouted. ‘Everyone knows that. So why can’t Gran still be Carnival Queen?’

  Pearl lay on the floor, furious.

  Why is it, she thought bitterly, that whenever there’s an argument between grown-ups and kids, the grown-ups always send the kids to their rooms?

  And if their rooms aren’t available, to other people’s rooms?

  Pearl looked around Mitch’s bedroom.

  There wasn’t even a Winston-sized cushion, so she couldn’t even have a decent cry.

  She could hear Mum and Howard out in the living room, Howard on the phone and Mum on her mobile, yelling at doctors and specialists and hospitals in Sydney.

  On the bed Mitch blew his nose on the sheet.

  ‘It’s more important she get cured,’ he said, ‘than be in some dopey carnival.’

  Pearl sat up.

  If Mitch hadn’t been looking so sad and waterlogged, she’d have given him a shake.

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ she said. ‘Being Carnival Queen could cure her. It’ll lift her spirits. Give her lungs the strength to fight back.’

  Mitch stared at her.

  ‘You’re mental,’ he said. ‘If being a carnival queen cured lung cancer, there’d be thousands of carnivals every day with busloads of queens.’

  Pearl sighed.

  Cousins could be real dopes sometimes.

  ‘It only works,’ she said, ‘for people who’ve been dreaming of being one for fifty-three years.’

  There was a tap on the door.

  Gran came in.

  She gave each of them a long hug.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘for not spilling the beans earlier.’

  ‘Some things are personal,’ said Pearl quietly.

  ‘Mitch,’ said Gran, ‘thanks for coming all this way with me. It’s a real tonic having you around. Took some sweat to persuade your mum and dad to let you come, but I’m glad they did.’

  Pearl watched as Mitch digested this.

  ‘And Pearl,’ said Gran, ‘thanks for writing that letter and reminding me I had a home town and some stuff to do here.’

  Pearl realised with a stab of panic that Gran seemed to be making some sort of farewell speech.

  Gran put her arms round them both.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘that I can’t be your Gran for a whole lot longer, but that’s the way the crackle crumbles.’

  ‘Gran,’ said Pearl fiercely, ‘don’t give up.’

  ‘I’ve sent a message to Doug,’ said Mitch. ‘It might take a while to get to him, but as soon as he picks it up he’ll be here to help cure you, I know.’

  Gran sighed.

  It came out as a wheeze.

  ‘You’re both champs,’ she said.

  ‘Gran,’ said Pearl, ‘if you could still be Carnival Queen, would you?’

  Gran gave a tired grin.

  ‘Course I would,’ she said. ‘But I know that’s off the bookie’s sheet now, and that’s OK, it was a lovely thought. So instead I’m going outside for a smoke.’

  Pearl stared at Gran.

  She felt like ringing up the cigarette companies and telling them to put another notice on their packets.

  SMOKING MAKES LUNG CANCER WORSE

  Gran must have read her mind.

  She gave another weary grin.

  ‘I’m gunna die anyway,’ she said, ‘eh?’

  Not if I can help it, thought Pearl.

  Mr Benson finished tying a cauliflower to his bullbar and shook his head.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but by the time I’ve got all the produce on the back of the truck, and Craigette in her spinach costume, there won’t be room for another person.’

  ‘See,’ said Craigette. ‘I told you.�
��

  Pearl resisted the temptation to dress Craigette for the carnival a day early with rotten tomatoes.

  ‘Please Mr Benson,’ she said, ‘you could be saving an old lady’s life.’

  Mr Benson sighed.

  ‘She wouldn’t feel comfortable,’ he said, tying a bunch of carrots to his rear vision mirror. ‘The theme of the truck this year is spring vegies, which is why I’m going to the expense of doing Craigette in baby spinach rather than silver beet. Wouldn’t really work with an elderly person on board, eh?’

  ‘See?’ said Craigette.

  The manager of Foley’s Trucking and Haulage (A’asia) Pty Ltd finished hanging plastic streamers from the barbed wire on the top of his depot fence and shook his head.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but all our vehicles that aren’t interstate are already booked for the parade.’

  ‘I’d wash your trucks every Saturday morning,’ said Pearl.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the manager, grinning.

  Pearl resisted the temptation to stop holding his stepladder steady.

  ‘Please,’ she said, ‘can’t you take my name in case there’s a cancellation?’

  ‘I could,’ said the manager, ‘if you’ve got a thousand dollars deposit and a class six licence.’

  Pearl sighed.

  The taxi driver tucked his newspaper behind his sun visor and scratched his head.

  ‘Run that past me again,’ he said. ‘What is it you want moved? Perhaps I can fit it in the boot.’

  Pearl stuck her head inside the taxi so he could hear her better.

  ‘A throne,’ said Pearl. ‘It’s a lounge chair really, with a big heavy curtain on it. And a senior citizen.’

  The taxi driver looked at Pearl.

  ‘We’d strap her down,’ said Pearl. ‘And use towels so the roof doesn’t get scratched.’

  The taxi driver stared at Pearl, then shook his head.

  ‘Can’t put things on the roof,’ he said. ‘Against regulations.’

  ‘OK,’ said Pearl, ‘are you allowed to tow things? For special customers.’

  The taxi driver frowned.

  ‘I can tow,’ he said, ‘but only in emergencies.’

  Pearl took a deep breath, leaned further into the taxi, and told him about Gran.

  13

  ‘You look beautiful, Gran,’ said Pearl.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Mitch. ‘You’re easily the best-looking Carnival Queen.’

  Gran grinned.

  ‘Best-looking one in the Co-op carpark, anyway,’ she said.

  She twirled around so that Mum’s living room curtains billowed out around her shoulders.

  ‘Gold and orange aren’t colours I wear a lot,’ she panted, ‘but what the heck, it’s a special occasion.’

  Pearl checked her watch.

  ‘The parade should be leaving the sports oval now,’ she said. ‘They’ll be here in five minutes.’

  She felt Mitch nudging her.

  Oops, she thought, almost forgot.

  She reached into her schoolbag and lifted out the Viking helmet.

  She checked that the toilet-roll horns were still stuck to the brass plant pot.

  They were.

  ‘There you go, Gran,’ she said.

  Gran put it on, eyes shining.

  It’s working, thought Pearl happily. She’s looking stronger and healthier already.

  If only Mum could be here to see this.

  Then perhaps she’d understand why we’re having to borrow her car.

  Gran gripped Mitch’s shoulder, climbed up onto the driver’s seat of the Capri, planted her bottom on the head rest and practised waving.

  No time to worry about Mum now, thought Pearl. The parade’ll be here in four minutes.

  She went round to the front of the car to see how the taxi driver was going with the towrope.

  It was in place.

  ‘Will it be strong enough?’ asked Pearl anxiously.

  ‘I could tow a bus with this,’ said the taxi driver. ‘Little open sports car’ll be a snack, even with a large grandmother in it.’

  Gran glared at him.

  The taxi driver grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up.

  Gran took a deep wheezy breath.

  Stay calm Gran, begged Pearl silently. Don’t put a strain on your respiratory system.

  The taxi driver checked the towrope connections.

  ‘She’s a remarkable woman,’ he whispered to Pearl. ‘Wish I could have done this for my Gran. So, when’s your mum getting here?’

  Pearl took a deep breath.

  This was the moment she’d been dreading.

  The moment when the whole plan could end up in the ashtray.

  ‘She won’t be,’ said Pearl. ‘She’s got VIP guests to look after. It’ll just be us.’

  The taxi driver looked doubtful.

  ‘Who’s going to steer the Capri?’ he said. ‘You kids can’t.’

  For a sec Pearl thought Gran was going to have a coughing fit, but she was just clearing her throat.

  ‘I’ve had my driving licence for forty-nine years,’ she said.

  The taxi driver still looked doubtful.

  ‘Can you steer from up there?’ he said.

  Gran reached out and gripped the wheel.

  ‘One hand for steering,’ she said, ‘one for waving. Now, could you get in the cab and start the meter please?’

  The taxi driver didn’t move.

  ‘I hope you’ve got an ignition key,’ he said, ‘for that steering lock.’

  Mitch gave Pearl a panicked look.

  Pearl pulled Mum’s spare key from her jeans pocket and handed it to the taxi driver.

  Mitch still looked panicked.

  Pearl realised why.

  In the distance she could hear the rumble of trucks.

  The parade was coming.

  Pearl didn’t get panicked.

  Just a bit worried.

  ‘What I’m worried about,’ she said in her head to Winston, ‘is that when the parade trucks see a taxi pull out in front of them towing a red sports car with two kids and a Viking gran in it, they might slam on their brakes and crash into each other and cause the parade to be cancelled and me and Mitch and Gran and the taxi driver to be arrested for obstructing traffic.’

  In her head Pearl was relieved to see that Winston wasn’t scampering around looking for somewhere to hide.

  He was giving her his calm ‘everything’s going to be OK’ look.

  And it was.

  At first.

  As the taxi and the Capri pulled out in front of the parade, Pearl looked anxiously at the front truck.

  The Carnival Queen was staring and pointing at them with her tobacco wand.

  Ron and Les Piggott were waving their arms and shouting.

  In Australian, not Nubian.

  But the truck, and the rest of the parade behind it, kept on coming.

  Pearl grinned up at Gran.

  ‘Comfy?’ she yelled.

  Gran gave her a thumbs up.

  Pearl had the thought that perhaps they should have strapped her in somehow. She tried to remember if the Vikings had used seatbelts.

  But it was too late, the taxi was towing them round the corner into the main street.

  Pearl gasped.

  The crowd was huge.

  At least ten deep on both sides of the street.

  This is incredible, thought Pearl. Everyone in town must be here.

  The cheer that went up was the loudest Pearl had ever heard, but when Gran started waving it got even louder.

  People were laughing and shouting and pointing and clapping, and nobody seemed to have noticed there were two carnival queens.

  Or if they had, they didn’t care.

  Pearl hoped the organisers were feeling the same way.

  She checked to see if Gran needed a chocolate crackle to keep her energy up, but Gran seemed fine.

  With her weatherbeaten face glowing with pleasure and the sun gleaming of
f her helmet, she looked like the carved figurehead on a Viking warship.

  Indestructible, except at funerals.

  Pearl hoped Gran’s lungs were feeling the same way.

  Halfway down the main street, Mitch tapped Pearl on the shoulder and leant forward and put his lips to her ear.

  ‘I was wrong,’ he shouted. ‘This is exactly what Gran needs to keep her going till Doug gets here.’

  Pearl grinned and nodded, but she didn’t reply, partly because of the noise and partly because of what she’d just seen on the VIP viewing platform outside the supermarket.

  Mum, very agitated, pointing at the Capri and talking loudly to a policeman.

  She seemed to be urging the policeman to do something.

  The policeman seemed to be saying no.

  Pearl thought of Winston’s lucky nose and made a wish.

  That the policeman had come to the parade straight from shooting practice so his ears were still ringing so he couldn’t hear people telling him to arrest their daughters.

  Then Mitch gripped Pearl’s shoulder and pointed to a man in a safari suit and a woman in shorts standing near Mum.

  The man’s mouth was open and the woman was clutching her stomach and they were both staring at Gran in horror.

  ‘My parents have arrived,’ shouted Mitch unhappily.

  Pearl looked up at Gran.

  She must have seen what was happening on the VIP platform too because suddenly she wasn’t looking so indestructible.

  Her shoulders were drooping and she was wheezing a lot.

  Pearl gave her a chocolate crackle.

  During the coughing fit that followed, Pearl wondered if that had been such a good idea.

  Several people in the crowd reeled back with bits of chocolate crackle on their clothes.

  But then Gran stopped coughing, and for the rest of her triumphant journey down the main street she had the broad shoulders and even broader grin, Pearl was delighted to see, of a woman whose lungs were probably getting better by the minute.

  As they turned out of the main street, the cheers fading behind them, Gran slipped down into the driver’s seat and turned to Pearl and Mitch with shining eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ she wheezed, and pressed her wet face to theirs.

  Pearl glowed.

  It’s worked, she thought. Nobody could be this happy and terminally ill.

  After a long time, Gran stopped hugging them.

  Mitch blinked and looked around.