Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms (11 page)

‘Did she, darl?’ said Carl, putting the brochures down. ‘Oh well, you kids better get ready for bed.’

‘Dad, did you even listen to me?’ whined Saskia.

That was when I went downstairs to the library. I grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen sink, wheeled the trolley into the library and parked it by the door. I was humming a tune, because sometimes tunes come into my head. I might never have heard the tune before, but I hum along. I took all the glasses off the old oval table and remembered how Granny Carmelene had first shown me her old maps there, next to a big vase of hydrangeas. I wiped down the table and checked around for anything else that needed to go back to the kitchen.

I was stacking and checking and wiping and humming
away when
the most
freaky thing happened, and if I tell you about it you’re not allowed to think I’m a nut-job, okay?

I heard soft clear music coming from somewhere up high. At first I thought there must be speakers that I hadn’t noticed before, but I looked all around and couldn’t find any. Then the music got louder, as if someone had turned the volume up and my skin went all tingly. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling near the wooden ladder used for the out-of-reach books. I stood at the lowest step and looked up.

And that’s when I saw it. An angel! Just like the one I’d seen with Granny in King Solomon’s Cave. I swear on my life it’s true. It was an angel I tell you. Halo, wings and all.

I didn’t tell Mum and Carl about what I’d seen, because let’s face it, if they don’t believe in Father Christmas or the Easter Bunny, they were hardly going to believe I’d seen an angel (for the second time) were they? Besides, I kind of wanted to keep it to myself because it was so lovely and special and just for me – like Finn, and Granny Carmelene’s locket. Arguing about it was going to make it all muddy and torn and belong to everyone else.

That night I snuck Willow into the turret to sleep at the end of my bed, because if the angel visited me again, I wanted to share it with someone who wouldn’t have any trouble believing.

When I woke
up the next morning I wasn’t thinking about breakfast and I wasn’t thinking about Finn. I was thinking about angels and how maybe, just maybe, I might have imagined the whole thing – twice. And how if that was the case then maybe, just maybe, I
was
a nut-job.

But then I started thinking about how angels are well-known as messengers and guardians, so maybe, just maybe, the angel in the library
was
real and had something to do with Granny Carmelene. Could she be trying to communicate from the
other side
, like from
nowhere
? One things was for sure, I had to tell someone, even if it was just to reassure myself that I wasn’t going crazy. But would I tell Lyall and Saskia and risk them making fun of me for ever, or would I tell Mum and Carl and suffer the inevitable
frustration of them not believing me at all? I couldn’t tell Claud because she was away. And Finn? Well, I kind of wanted Finn to like me, I f you know what I mean.

So I spent the next half-hour constructing a handy flow chart, which can often help if you’re having trouble knowing the best path to take. Perhaps just check at the end of the book in case I remembered to include it.

After studying the chart and weighing up my options, I decided to barge on in and tell Lyall and Saskia.

‘It’s true! It was an angel in the library. I was thinking about Granny Carmelene and then there it was!’

The three of us were up in Lyall’s room, printing the Boredom Control brochures.

Lyall burst out laughing. ‘Yeah right, Sunny. You tricked me once, you’re not going to suck me in with angels too. How many brochures do you think we should print? About fifty? We’ll also need some to stick onto street poles.’

Maybe Lyall’s response served me right. At least he didn’t say
I
was bats.

‘You
should
believe in angels, Lyall, the Catholics practically invented them,’ I said.

‘
I
believe in angels!’ Saskia said. ‘And Sunny’s right, Lyall. You should believe in them because they’re in the Bible.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And I
know
they’re real, because now
I’ve seen one twice. I attract them. It’s obvious.’

‘That’s hardly proof, Sunny,’ said Lyall. ‘I’d need to see it for myself, or at least have solid evidence. I mean, why didn’t you take a photo, Sunny?’

‘Well, Lyall, I guess that would be because I didn’t happen to have a camera with me. Der.’

All of a sudden Saskia became terribly excited. ‘I know!’ she squealed. ‘We can catch the angel with your surveillance equipment, Lyall, just like how at Mum’s we—’

‘Shoosh, Saskia!’ scolded Lyall, punching her in the arm. ‘You breathe one word of that and I’ll seriously put your head down the insinkerator.’

I gave Lyall
the eyebrow
, as if to say,
Surveillance huh? Sounds completely dodgy.
But then I thought,
who am I to talk? I spy on an old man through a telescope.

Carl appeared at the door. ‘I’m off to work now, guys,’ he said. ‘What have you got planned for the day?’

‘Sunny saw an angel, Dad,’ Saskia said.

‘That’s great, sweetheart,’ Carl said, kissing Saskia goodbye.

‘I did, Carl, actually I saw one twice,’ I said.

‘Wonderful, Sunny. Now, you kids get some fresh air today. There’s no sign of rain. You were inside all day yesterday.’

‘We’ll be delivering our brochures,’ said Lyall.

‘Excellent, oh and that reminds me, can you grab a stack
of flyers for the action group and deliver them as well?’

‘Sure,’ we all said at once.

We tried to save on brochures by targeting houses with obvious signs of dog ownership. Having Willow with us made it easy because whenever we passed a house with a resident dog, the smell of Willow made the other dog rush to the fence barking.

‘I really do think there are a lot of bored dogs around here,’ Saskia said, rolling up a brochure and sliding it into a letterbox. Boredom Control could really take off.’

‘It’s a pity that Buster lives so far away – he’s convinced you can teach dogs to meditate and says he’s had success on more than one occasion,’ I said.

‘Well,’ said Saskia, ‘I believe it. If you can hypnotise a chicken—’

‘You believe anything, Saskia,’ said Lyall.

‘Do not, Lyall.’

‘Come on, you guys, do you have to argue about absolutely everything?’ I said.

‘Exactly, Sunny,’ said Lyall. ‘That’s why scientists invented proof. So there’d be nothing left to argue about, and that’s why, as soon as we get home, I’m going to hook up my surveillance system in the library. If there really is an angel, Sunny, we’ll catch it on the monitor.’

It was the
weekend, which usually meant bacon and eggs, but Mum was having all sorts of trouble with her poaching, and we didn’t even have any bacon.

‘Blast!’ Mum said, as she scooped a lonely yolk out of the poaching pot.

‘Did you give it a dash of vinegar, love?’ asked Carl, pouring coffee.

‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘Vinegar and a pinch of salt. Maybe the eggs are old?’

‘Dad, can I have a coffee too?’ asked Lyall.

‘No, Lyall,’ said Carl.

‘Can I?’ asked Saskia.

‘No, Saskia. Coffee isn’t for children.’

‘Here, Sunny,’ said Mum, handing me a side plate with
the little yellow ball of poached yolk. ‘May as well give this to Willow. I might give up on poached eggs and we’ll have scrambled instead?’

‘And bacon?’ I asked hopefully.

Mum gave Carl
the eyebrow
, as if to say,
I’m having enough trouble with these eggs, you tell the children how we’ve decided to ruin their lives by putting a ban on deliciously crispy bacon.

‘Well, said Carl. ‘Alex and I have decided to ruin your lives by putting a ban on deliciously crispy bacon.’

‘Daaaaad-uh!’ yelled Lyall and Saskia in chorus, but due to Carl not being my dad and all, I couldn’t join in. I just gave him
the eyebrow
as if to say,
Nice one, Carl – let me guess, you’re going to try to convince us that tofu can taste just as good as bacon.

‘Come on, you guys, be a little open-minded. Besides, you can get some amazing tofu products now that taste
just like bacon.
You won’t even know the difference.’

I wasn’t in the mood for arguing about bacon. We had three appointments to think about, with potential customers who had responded to our brochure. That meant a lot of smooth-talking and good manners, which you have to admit is sometimes an exhausting combination. Especially for an introvert. Hopefully by the end of it we’d have our very first clients for Boredom Control.

A woman called Kara Bleakly was on the top of our list. She lived in Foster Street. In Carmichael Drive we were
to visit a guy called Ritchie Draper followed by a family called the Archers down in Howard Crescent.

‘Now, kids,’ said Carl, stacking the dishwasher as we were ready to leave. ‘Make sure you remember to invite all three of them to our next meeting.’

‘Yes,’ said Mum, ‘and tell them about how we’re turning our land into a community vegetable plot.’

‘What about farming some organic pigs?’ I suggested, but everyone just stared at me straight-faced.

‘Don’t be silly, Sunny,’ said Mum. ‘You cried all the way through
Babe
.’

If you ask me, everything about Kara Bleakly’s house was bleak. For a start it was all the one bleak colour, kind of grey stone with dried out slats of wood and a jutting-out box of cold empty glass. I think it’s what
They
call
Modern
. There was a high stone fence across the front with a locked gate and an intercom button. Right when Saskia buzzed, a black snout appeared under the gate, accompanied by some rather loud snorting. Then the gate opened and we were greeted by Kara Bleakly, who looked as bleak as her name and her house suggested. Even her voice was bleak and all on one level like the low hum of a fridge. I think
They
call it monotone. The only thing connected to Kara Bleakly that
wasn’t
bleak was her big fat black bounding labrador, Sophia.

‘You must be Lyall,’ Kara said, holding out her hand.