Part 8 (1/2)

'Poor Willow,' I whispered in her ear. 'Boris is a mean, mean cat, and we're going to make him pay.'

While we were was.h.i.+ng up, Saskia told me that she had put a Pizza-A-Go-Girl poster up at her school and that she was pretty sure one of their teachers would be putting in an order for Friday night.

'It's Father Kenny,' she said. 'He's our parish priest. He loves pizza.'

'Aren't priests meant to eat fish on Fridays?' I asked.

'That's only in Lent,' said Lyall, wiping down the sink.

'Okay, bring it on,' I said. 'We'll deliver to anyone: criminals, priests, who's next?'

Willow slept in my room that night so that she could stay well clear of Boris. I thought about Granny Carmelene all alone in her big old white-and-black house. Maybe if Mum gave her another chance, she'd find that Granny Carmelene had changed. People do you know. They call it mellowing. And anyway, what was there not to like about Granny Carmelene? Even though I'd promised that I wouldn't tell anyone about her illness, I couldn't help thinking that if Mum knew it might make her forget about whatever went on in the past. And how could I go away for a whole weekend without Mum knowing where I was going? I guess I could just let Mum think I was at Dads, and let Dad think I was at Mums. I mean, there have to be some advantages to having divorced parents. I could become invisible and slip off to Tasmania without anybody noticing. I'd have to hope like crazy that neither of my parents called the other one to talk about anything normal, like basketball. I'd be living a double lie, with double secrets on top. Imagine what that would do to the Stash-O-Matic! It would probably blow the whole thing up.

But I had to go to Tasmania with Granny Carmelene, not just because she was dying, but because I wanted to live and have adventures and get out of doing the dishes, as well as have a big dose of good, old-fas.h.i.+oned one-onone. I wanted to see King Solomon's caves with my own blood relative, even if her blood was faulty. I just had to go, my intuition told me. Surely I could live a double lie (and possibly break a perfectly good Stash-OMatic) . . . just once?

Claud did turn up for Pizza-AGo-Girl on Friday night, even though I didn't really want her to.

And we did get an order from Father Kenny, as well as two other new customers who were friends of Mrs Wolverine. Saskia was reading the pizza dough recipe and measuring out some yeast into the scales. She'd also been working on some new pizza box labels, which I had to say were better than the ones Claud and I had made, because Saskia was really good at art.

'I can do all the deliveries,' said Lyall. 'But can't we change the business name to something not so girly?'

Claud must have overheard him from the back yard.

'Sorry Lyall,' she said as she came through the shed door, 'Pizza-A-Go-Girl has a solid market reputation. It would be bad for business to change names now.' She gave me the eyebrow, as if to say Back me up here, Sunny.

'I agree,' I said flatly, as I put another log on the fire in the pizza oven.

'Me too,' said Saskia. 'So you're outvoted Lyall. Besides, I've already designed our Pizza-A-Go-Girl T-s.h.i.+rts.'

'There's like, no way I'm wearing a Pizza-A-Go-Girl T-s.h.i.+rt,' said Lyall, just as Mum and Carl came into the shed with herbs from the garden.

'Mmm mm,' said Carl, 'fresh basil!' And then he started dancing around the shed with it, singing that old Dean Martin song about the moon hitting your eye with a big pizza pie. Then he sang his own version a When you eat tuna fish on a big silver dish, that's a mornay a until Lyall and Saskia begged him to stop.

'Dad, you're embarra.s.sing us,' said Saskia under her breath.

'Claud, you're here. Great! How are things at home?' asked Mum. 'Is Buster okay?'

'Pretty good, thanks,' said Claud. 'Still no word from his mum, though,' she said, looking at the list of orders I had made.

'Yeah, well, you would nick off, wouldn't you? If you ended up with a kid like Buster.' I said.

'Sunny!' just about everybody yelled.

'It wouldn't hurt to have a little more compa.s.sion,' added Mum.

'Yeah, Sunny,' said Claud. 'Get over it!'

'You get over it, Claud!'

'Hey, I've an idea!' Lyall interrupted, 'How 'bout Buster joins the business, too? Then I wouldn't be so outnumbered by girls.'

'Now there's a thought,' said Carl, was.h.i.+ng the herbs.

And Mum said, 'That's a good idea, Lyall.'

Even Saskia said, 'I don't mind.'

I was the only one who said, 'Noooooooooooo!'

'What is your problem, Sunny?' said Claud.

'My problem? My problem? I'm not the one who's gone weird, Claud. You're the one who has a complete personality change the minute some boy is around. I'm not the one who pretends to be doing stuff they're not. I'm not the one who laughs fake. I'm certainly not the one who doesn't bother to tell important stuff a like Buster joining our basketball team. And I'm not the one who stole the profit jar, Claud, I mean, that's sinking pretty low!'

'What!' yelled Claud. 'How can you say-'

'Wait a minute,' said Lyall. 'That was me. I mean, I didn't steal it. I moved it to inside the piano. I thought it would be safer and then I, like, forgot all about it. Sorry! I'll grab it,' he said, running out of the shed.

'Sunny,' said Mum shaking her head, 'what's got into you? You didn't really think Claud would steal.' She was frantically looking through a pile of newspapers for the crossword.

'Listen, Sunny,' said Claud. 'There're things you don't know. I couldn't say anything about Buster because we were chosen as his foster family and there are privacy rules and all this stuff that you're not allowed to say. That's why I couldn't stop you making up Quinny's pizza order last week, even though I knew he wouldn't be there. And as for basketball, it was Mum who suggested that Buster should try out, and I had to take home his homework sheets, 'cos he was staying at our place.'

'Sunny, you didn't burn today's paper did you? I can't find the crossword,' said Mum.

'Got it!' puffed Lyall, running in with the profit jar.

'And anyway, Sunny,' added Claud, helping Mum sort through the papers, 'sometimes you're not the easiest friend to have either! Sometimes I don't want to do everything together. Sometimes I want to have other friends too. I mean, can't you just share, Sunny? You know, like, just share?'

Claud turned to Mum with a crossword from last week's paper and said, 'How about this one, Alex? It's not done yet.'

But Mum just looked stressed and a bit mad, partly due to not smoking and partly due to the fact that she had probably already memorised the answers to today's crosswords from calling Crossword Solutions, and was hoping to look impressive in front of Carl. Last week's crossword just wasn't going to cut it.

Just then Carl walked in with a ladder and some of those light globes that use less electricity. 'We've all got to do our bit,' he said. 'By the way, Lyall, I hope you switched that computer off while you're not using it.'

'Sunny, I can't believe you burned today's paper,' said Mum anxiously.

'You're looking a bit tense, love,' said Carl, hugging the ladder with one arm and Mum with the other. 'How 'bout I make us a vodka tonic?'

Mum looked as though she was about to burst. Her face was red, her brow was twisted up and her jaw jutted out. She'd dropped the girlie act completely. At that moment, I have to say I actually missed it, because even though the girlie act was fake, at least it wasn't scary.

'Carl, I told you,' she said without moving her lips, 'I can't have any alcohol until after I finish my hypnosis. I've told you three times. No alcohol, okay?'

'Sorry, love, totally forgot. I'll get us a mineral water instead.' He filled two gla.s.ses and cut some fresh lemon. 'Hey,' he said. 'Did you ever hear the one about the three men on a train? There was an Irish man, an American and-'

'Daaaaaad-duh!' shrieked Lyall and Saskia.

'Fine,' said Carl. 'Gee, it's really joy to the world over here tonight, isn't it?'

I was staring into the fire, trying not to cry about what Claud had said, or about Granny Carmelene, and glad for all the commotion to take the attention away. Maybe Claud was right and I am the sort of person who finds it hard to share. Maybe it's all part of being an only child introvert?

Mum handed me the profit jar. 'Sunny, you should really apologise to Claud. No one likes to be accused of something they didn't do.'