Читать книгу The Elephant in the Room - Maya Fowler - Страница 12

The sea has spat out a stew of kelp and sponge, and Beth and I are kicking up sand as we run in circles, throwing strings of rubbery seaweed at each other.

On Saturday mornings, Laetitia’s off, and Mom lets me and Beth walk down the Norman Road steps, all the way to the tidal pool next to the Brass Bell. If only Gracie were old enough, Mom could have complete peace, but for now the two of us have to go alone.

On your way down, you watch the lighthouse getting closer and closer to you. My favourite things to look out for are the two lion heads that guard someone’s doorway near the bottom end of the steps. They’re made of rock or cement, and I like to rub their noses ever so lightly as I go past. It has to be gentle, else they’ll get dirty and then people have to repaint them, which just costs time and money.

Having to go out and play with your own sister is not the most exciting thing. Family is boring, and you’re supposed to get along. You don’t get that same thrill doing something with your sister as you get when a friend invites you over. But the sea is always worth it. The waves, the sky, the chug-chug sound of tugs in the harbour pull us out of our house, and because this is the best playground, the company doesn’t even matter.

Beth and I are both panting from chasing each other across the sand. Running games never last very long with us. I leave her behind and walk along the wall of the tidal pool until I get to the rocks. I find a mermaid’s purse, and that’s me – gone. I collect these. I stick the dry ones to my bedroom walls with Prestik. Mom used to complain, but she’s given up. The only rule is I have to dry them outside in the sun first. When I was really little, I hoped to find pearls in the purse, or at least a mother-of-pearl comb, but in the meantime Jane’s brother has told me that actually, baby sharks come out of them. Matt loves sharks, and knows everything about them. When he was done explaining, he scowled and said, “I piddy the fool that believes in fairy tales and mermaids.” I’m trying to still believe, but something tells me the shark thing is true. Still, the purses are so beautiful, and so nice and rubbery between your fingers, they amaze me as much as ever and I keep collecting them.

“Look at me, I’m the Sea Queen,” Beth shouts. She has draped seaweed over her shoulders and is sitting cross-legged on the wall with a pink shell on her head. This gives me an idea for a crown of my own: I know a sea urchin will be perfect, because the spikes will look just right, especially if I find a purple one.

I climb over the rocks to check in the pools. Sea urchins are easy to find. You can see them at the bottom of the tidal pool, even, but I don’t have the nerve to dive, because it’s too full. I pull one out of shallow water. Getting pricked will hurt, and Mom says sea urchins are poisonous, so best be careful. I have found one in deepest purple, the colour of night the second before the sun shoots out its first ray.

As I hold my prisoner by a spike, I decide not to put it on my head after all. I’ll take it home and dry it instead, so that the spikes fall off and I’m left with a nice green shell.

* * *

Mom’s voice sounds very cross. She’s on the phone, and I can hear from what she says that Jane’s mom is on the other end. First they laughed, then my mom went quiet. And then she screamed, “What? That little shit! I’m really, really sorry. I’ll sort it out.”

It’s quiet again for a little while. Then: “No, it’s not that innocent. I don’t know where she gets it from, but I’ll give her a talking to.”

It sounds like they have different ideas about how much trouble I’m in, but this time I’m done for, I’m sure.

Mom shouts at me, and it gives me the same feeling as the day with the pants. My cheeks are flaming hot, right to under my eyes, and my heart stomps up towards the roof of my mouth. I wish I was invisible. The thing with the pants made me feel exactly the same. I’d had a boring day. Mom was lying down with Gracie, who’d been screaming, and Beth was also lights-out for some reason. So I started playing dress-up, and used everything in my cupboard. I even dressed my teddy. I found that the light blue checked shorts with great big flowers all over worked quite well as a hat for teddy, so I took them off and slid them onto my own head. They were tiny shorts, the kind you wear under a very short skirt. I pulled at them till they sat over to one side, kind of like Mom’s beret, and felt very pleased with myself. Then I decided to go out, because I felt fabulous. I didn’t really know where I was going, but I wanted to show off. I climbed down the terrace and swung the gate closed behind me. Just then, Annabelle le Roux stepped into the street with a whole lot of other people. I said hello.

“Why are you wearing shorts on your head?” one lady asked. She had a smile and a frown at the same time. That’s when I got the feeling. I sucked in my breath.

“They’re not shorts. It’s a hat.”

My voice sounded squeaky. And it was high-pitched, like the sound of a pebble hitting an empty Frisco tin. Everybody stopped talking and looked at me.

“Those are pants. You have pants on your head!” said a big man in a red pullover. He laughed.

“No, man, leave the child,” said somebody else.

Annabelle smiled at me and said, “Hey, that was very creative, sweetie. Don’t listen to these people.”

But by then I’d already turned around with my chin in the air, trying to look happy and like I knew exactly what I was doing, but desperate to get my stupid shorts and burning cheeks behind closed doors.

I miss a lot of Mom’s shouting because I’m thinking about the pants, but she doesn’t notice.

“Lily, do you understand?”

I understand enough to know I need to sit down with my pen and paper. Confession:

Dear Mrs O’Reilly

I’m very sorry I said I hate Kathlix. This is not at all true. My gran hates Kathlix and says so all the time, so I thought it was a good thing to hate and I thought you’d be happy if I said it. I didn’t know you are Kathlix too. If you are one, then I know they’re good cos you are one of the nicest people I have ever met.

Sorry and love, Lily

Gran says confessions are best burnt, but this one gets an envelope and a stamp.

* * *

In the kitchen, Mom shoos some flies from her face and complains of a smell. I sneak outside. Since yesterday, my mermaid’s purses and other bits from the sea have been stinking badly, but Mom hasn’t yet realised that this is where the smell comes from.

My nose leads me to the sea urchins. I ended up bringing home five on Saturday. I struggled to choose between the deep purple, the bright red, the great big one, the tiny baby one and the medium purple one. So I brought them all home, scooped up in the front of my dress.

The spikes aren’t falling off yet. It’s as if they’re advertising Bostik. And they’ve lost all their shine. I turn one upside down and notice that the little white bones at the bottom, the ones that look like a pattern in a kaleidoscope, have shrunken in a little. They’d looked smooth and beautiful coming straight out of the sea, but now they’re like the teeth of a mummy.

I drop the urchin and hear it crack as Mom speaks to me. I hadn’t heard her coming.

“Lily, you’d better get rid of these things now. One can’t live with this stinking.”

I can’t believe how they’ve changed. I’d looked forward to having pretty shells. “How did this happen, Mom? They were so nice two days ago.”

My mom pads off to the washing line with the basket she’s carrying. “That’s what happens when you take perfectly happy creatures out of their natural environment,” she says over her shoulder.