Sunny Days and Moon Cakes (14 page)

When Doctor Kinder says the word “pain”, Mum starts to get upset.

“She’s a strong wee thing,” the doctor says, squeezing Mum’s arm. “She’ll be back running around in no time at all. Don’t you worry.”

If the doctor thinks it’s strange that I’m not talking, she doesn’t mention it – which is a relief.

“Min’s just down the corridor,” Doctor Kinder says. “Room twenty-six A.”

“Can I stay with her overnight?” Mum asks.

“One of the nurses can arrange that, but it will have to be just you, I’m afraid. Siblings aren’t allowed.”

“My husband’s on his way to collect Sunny. They’ll stay in a hotel. We’re a long way from home.”

Doctor Kinder smiles. “That’s right – you’re from Little Bird. Beautiful place. I’ve visited with Liz. She loves walking the island. You’re very lucky to live there. I have to see a patient now, but I’ll be back to check on Min later tonight and first thing in the morning. Let the nurse know if you have any problems.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Mum says.

We find Min in a small private room. She’s wearing a sky-blue hospital gown and she looks tiny sitting propped up with lots of white pillows in the huge hospital bed. There are two large plasters on her face – one on her forehead, the other on her chin. She has small cuts and grazes scabbing all over her face and arms and her right arm and leg are both in a turquoise plaster cast.

We walk in and Mum closes the door behind us. As soon as I’m sure it’s firmly shut, I smile at Min gently and say quietly, “I thought pink was your favourite colour?” I nod at the cast.

“It’s blue now,” she says, her voice slightly woolly and a little husky, like she’s just woken up.

Mum’s eyes fill with tears and she kisses the top of Min’s head. “Oh, my darling. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Min says. “I’m the one who ran onto the headland. Sunny tried to stop me, by the way. I hope she’s not in trouble. It was all my own stupid fault.”

“No, Sunny’s not in trouble at all,” Mum says. “But look at your poor old face and your arm.” She gently runs a finger over a black and purple bruise on Min’s left arm. “My poor baby.”

“Stop fussing,” Min tells her. “I’m fine. Tanya said I’m very lucky. My injuries are all on the outside. External, it’s called.”

Mum looks confused. “Tanya?”

“Doctor Kinder. She said I could call her Tanya. She’s really nice.”

“You’re right – she is nice,” Mum says, putting her hand on Min’s forehead. “How are you feeling? The doctor said she’d given you painkillers.”

“I feel a bit weird,” she says. “Kind of tired and achy, and the casts are annoying. I can’t really move properly or sit up. But I’m not too sore now, if that’s what you mean.”

Mum looks relieved. “Good.”

Mum’s mobile rings then and she whips it out of her bag and answers it. “Smiles, I’m in the hospital with Min. She’s absolutely fine. Thank God. I don’t think I’m supposed to be on the phone. I’ll go outside and ring you back.” She looks at us. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, girls. Is that all right?”

“Tell Dad I said hi,” Min says. “And can you get me some sweets?”

Mum smiles. “Sure. I’ll get you both something. I’ll be quick.”

Once Mum’s gone, I say, “Thanks for saying that – about it not being my fault.” My eyes fill up with tears.

“Don’t you start going all weepy too. Mum’s bad enough.” Min shifts around. “Will you move the pillows a bit? I feel like I’m slipping down the bed.”

I carefully rearrange the pillows, terrified of hurting her. When I’ve finished, she says, “Why don’t you climb in beside me? There’s plenty of room.” She pats the mattress to her left.

I kick off my shoes and then snuggle in beside her, taking care not to move her too much. It’s comfy. She puts her good hand in mine and I hold it tight.

“Is everyone talking about me on the island?” she asks. “And saying how brave I am? I bet they are.” She gives me a slightly wobbly smile.

“Yes,” I say. “They’re saying you’re super brave.” And it’s true, they are. They’re kind on Little Bird. Everyone knows we shouldn’t have been on the headland – that it’s dangerous – but they haven’t said this.

“Stop looking so upset,” Min says. “I’m the one who had the accident, not you. Why are you being so mopey?”

“Because it was my fault. I should never have let you near the cliff in the first place. Don’t you see? I should have yelled at you to stay back, but I couldn’t because the hiker, Liz, was near by. Mum asked me to mind you and you end up in hospital. I couldn’t even shout for help or ring the emergency services. If Liz hadn’t come along, I don’t know what would have happened. This is the second time I’ve nearly killed you. No – third, actually.”

Min stares at me. “What are you talking about?”

“The sinking mud at Lough Cara. I should have been watching you. And before that, in China. The cherry tree. I’m supposed to look after you, Min. Always. I promised Mama.”

Min looks surprised. “Chinese Mama? When?”

I nod, a lump in my throat. “It was when you were little,” I begin. “She got really sick and had to stay in bed all the time. But on the morning of my sixth birthday she got out of bed, even though she was so ill, and made me a special birthday cake. She was a really good cook.”

“Like Alanna?” Min says.

“Just like Alanna.”

“Where was I?”

“With Mama Wei.”

“Am I asking too many questions?”

I smile at her. “Min, you can ask as many questions as you like.”

“Really? Cool! How does the moon stay in the sky? How many fish are in the sea? How do whales talk—?”

“Min!”

She grins. “I’m only joking. Go on, I want to hear the rest of the story.”

I think for a second, wanting to get it right. “Mama said that she and I were going to have some special time, just the two of us. We spent the whole day together. We climbed into her bed and she read me stories and sang to me. It was wonderful, and she told me how much she loved me and you too, Min. She said, ‘Look after your little sister, Soon Yi. Always. Promise me, whatever happens, you’ll never be parted.’ And then she gave me some photos. I kept them safe, Min. Would you like to see them?”

“Photos of China? Of our family?”

I nod a little shyly. “I’m sorry I didn’t show you before. You never seemed that interested in our life over there and these photos are really special to me.”

“China didn’t seem real until we went and I started remembering it a little bit,” she says. “But now I really care! I want to know everything about it. Can I see the photos? Where are they? At home?”

“No, they’re right here.” I pull my sketchbook out of my pocket, where I put it all those hours ago, before following Min out to see the whales. The photographs are tucked safely into the back.

I hold the first photograph up in front of Min. It’s the one of Mama when she was a little girl, in her red-and-blue silk dress. On the back, Mama had written, in her dark spidery handwriting, “My darling Soon Yi. You are such a good, kind, clever girl. Look after Min Yen for me. Always. Never be parted. I will carry you both in my heart. Mama XXX.” But she didn’t need to write it down at all. It was already etched onto my heart.

Min gasps. “Who’s that girl? She looks just like me.” She runs her finger carefully over the photo of Mama.

“It’s Mama when she was young,” I say.

“Can I see the other photos?” Min asks eagerly.

We pour over my treasured photos together. I tell Min when and where they were taken and how Papa carried a smaller copy of the wedding picture tucked into his wallet.

“Have you shown these to Mum and Dad?” Min asks, after we’ve studied each one carefully.

I shake my head. “Just you. Can they be our secret for the moment, Min?” I draw a deep breath. “I’m so sorry you got hurt today. I feel like I let Mama down.”

“Big sister, you’re being crazy. Nothing that’s happened to me has been your fault. What age were you when I fell out of that cherry tree?”

I think for a second. “Seven.”

“I’m eight – a whole year older – and I’d make a terrible babysitter. And it was me who ran off and got stuck in the mud. Also, it was me who ran off today and fell down that stupid cliff. It was all me. Not you.” After a moment, she says, “I’m so tired. Can you sing me the bird song? Until I fall asleep? The one that woman on the plane was singing. I remember it from when I was little.”

“Did you really recognize that? It’s a Chinese nursery rhyme about a little bird. Mama used to sing it to us. In the orphanage, I’d sneak into your room after lights out and hold your hand and sing it to you. It helped you sleep. I used to fall asleep on the floor beside you.”

“Did you stay there all night?”

I nod. “I didn’t like leaving you alone.”

“And you’d promised Mama you’d look after me.”

“Yes. That too.”

“See – you did keep your promise.” She goes quiet for a moment then asks, “Were you sad? In the orphanage?”

“Sometimes.”

“Poor Sunny.”

“I missed Mama and Papa, and I used to worry a lot that we’d be separated. I heard the nannies talking, you see. They said no family would want two girls. Every day I worried that you’d be taken away from me too.”

“And then Mum and Dad adopted us and you were happy,” Min says.

“As soon as I realized they really did want both of us, yes. And now I’m stuck with you for ever.” I smile at her.

She pokes her tongue out at me and then smiles back. “Lucky you. I’m sorry all that happened to you in the orphanage. The worrying and everything. And I’m sorry about your talking thing. I shouldn’t tease you about it – it’s mean.”

“That’s all right. Not being able to speak annoys me too.”

She yawns deeply then and leans back into the pillows.

I start to stroke her hair, just like Mama used to do, and then I sing to her, softly at first, then louder. It’s funny because, apart from that time on the plane, I hadn’t thought about the little bird song for years. I still remember every word of it, though. I sing it in English, so Min can understand:

“Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop hop
.

And I cried, ‘Little bird, please stop, stop, stop…’

I was going to the window to say how do you do
,

When he shook his little tail and away he flew.”

Mum comes back into the room in the middle of it. She closes the door carefully behind her. “Don’t stop,” she says.

When I’ve finished, she says, “You have a beautiful voice, Sunny. Like a nightingale.”

I smile at her. “That’s what Alanna calls me. Her little nightingale.”

“Where’s that song from?” Mum asks.

“School,” Min says quickly. “I taught it to her.”

Mum’s eyes meet mine for a second then she blinks and says, “Oh, I see. Well, Alanna just rang to check how you both were. She sends her love. And your dad’s in Cork airport now. He’ll be here soon. You two look cosy in that bed. I’d love to climb in with you. I’m wrecked.” Mum yawns, setting Min off again.

“Did you find some sweets?” Min asks, talking through another big yawn.

“I did, Min.” Mum leans down to adjust Min’s blanket. “You can have a few, but after that you need to rest. You’ve been through an awful lot today.”

Min winks at me and I smile back. Mum’s right. We have been through a lot today. And not just Min’s accident.

“What are you two smiling about?” Mum asks.

For once, we
both
say nothing.

The next day, Dad and I head back to Little Bird and Mum stays with Min. Doctor Kinder wants to keep an eye on her, so they won’t leave the hospital until Wednesday. I fall asleep on the drive to Redrock. At the harbour, Dad has to rouse me. “Wakey-wakey, sleepy head. You slept the whole way from the hospital. You must have been tired.”

I nod. The harbour is quiet, not a person in sight, so I feel comfortable speaking. “Thanks for letting me sleep,” I say. “Min usually keeps me awake in the car with her yapping.”

Dad grins. “I’m sure she does. But you still miss her, don’t you? Even if she is crazy?”

“Yes, it’s far too quiet.”

He laughs. While he texts Mum to let her know we’ve made it and to check on Min, I sit up, yawn and stretch my arms, my hands pressing against the top of the jeep. I was tossing and turning all last night in the hotel. I kept having a nightmare that Min was running away from me, towards a black hole. She was always just out of reach and I couldn’t call out to save her. I had the same bad dream, over and over again. When I woke up this morning, I knew what I had to do. She’s my only sister – it’s my job to keep her safe. I can’t risk not being able to help her again like yesterday.

“Dad?” I say, before I change my mind. “If Liz hadn’t come along when she did and been able to ring the emergency services, then Min might have slid down the cliff and died. I couldn’t speak, not even to save my little sister’s life.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re being way too hard on yourself, love.”

“I need to be hard on myself,” I say. “And I need you to be hard on me too. Mum’s way too soft; you’re the tough one. I want to be able to speak. I have to, for Min’s sake as well as my own. But I can’t do it alone. I need Rosie’s help. And Alanna’s. But most of all I need your help, Dad. Don’t let me give up. Make me do it, OK?”

He smiles at me, his eyes glistening. “Sunny, do you have any idea how unbelievably proud of you I am right now? Of course you can do this. You’ve always been a fighter. I believe in you and I won’t let you quit.”

“Can you ring Rosie for me, then? Can you ask her to come to Little Bird as soon as she can?”

“Of course.” He takes out his mobile and starts looking for her number.

No going back now.

I’m in the Songbird Cafe helping Mollie and Alanna to add the finishing touches to the decorations for Min’s ninth birthday party. Over the last few days we’ve made Chinese lanterns in Min’s new favourite colour, blue, and a huge
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIN
banner to hang across the outside wall. Min came home from hospital two weeks ago, but she went back in for a check-up this morning. Then Mum took her shopping for a special birthday treat. They’re on the ferry now, on their way back from the mainland.