Sunny Days and Moon Cakes (2 page)

“What do you think of the birthday lanterns, Sunny?” she asks. “Mollie and I had such fun making them.” She waves at the red Chinese lanterns that are looped across the window. They’re made of a silky material that shimmers in the light.

As I look at them, an image flitters across my memory.
Huge red silk lanterns swaying in the breeze
. I try to hold on to it, to remember where I saw those lanterns, but it’s gone.

“Do you like them, Sunny?” Alanna asks.

I nod. Her eyes are so kind and understanding that I feel like hugging her.

“They’re beautiful,” Mum says, speaking for me. “We had some paper ones up for the Lantern Festival, but these are much bigger, and I love the silk.” Mum is very keen on keeping us in touch with our heritage. We always decorate the house to celebrate things like Spring Festival and the start of the Chinese New Year. And now we’re off to China, to see our old home and to visit the orphanage where we lived after Papa died.

I turn away from the lanterns and my back stiffens when I spot two strangers sitting at a table near the counter. Birdwatchers from the look of them – they’re wearing wellies, and green jackets with lots of pockets.
Breathe, Sunny
, I remind myself.
Take long, deep breaths. Mum’s here and Min’s here. Nothing bad’s going to happen. No one’s going to try to make you speak
.

“Sit yourselves down and I’ll bring out the party food,” Alanna says gently, guiding me away from the strangers.

“Beside me, Sunny.” Mollie pats the seat to her right. As soon as I’ve joined her, she presses something into my hands. “Happy birthday. I hope you like it.”

It’s a present wrapped in rainbow-coloured paper. I open it carefully. Inside is a beautiful silver bracelet with a tiny dolphin charm on it.

“That’s Click,” Mollie says. Click is the island’s resident dolphin.

“And me and Cal got you this.” Landy hands over another present.

“It was Mollie’s idea,” Cal admits, brushing his floppy black hair out of his eyes.

I smile at them shyly. I didn’t know Landy that well until we worked on the Save the Songbird Cafe campaign together and I still feel nervous around him. I’m even more anxious with Cal as I haven’t seen him much recently. Cal’s mum, Mattie, runs a sea safari for the tourists, as well as working on the ferry to the mainland. Cal helps her out sometimes and he has promised to take us whale spotting in the summer. We went last year and it was amazing.

Landy and Cal are always nice to me. They never tease me, unlike Lauren and Chloe. Thank goodness they’re not here today.

I open the tissue-paper wrapping on Cal and Landy’s present and find a silver-and-turquoise charm in the shape of a globe, no bigger than my thumbnail. If you look carefully, you can make out the different countries, just like on a real globe.

I carefully click the new charm onto the bracelet Mollie gave me, next to the dolphin one. Then I hold out my wrist and look at Min, who helps me to put the bracelet on. I never have to tell Min what I want – she always just knows.

“The silver matches your jeans perfectly,” Min says and then beams at everyone. “We all have impeccable taste.”

Everyone is laughing again as Alanna walks towards us, laden down with plates, two balanced on each arm. Mollie and I help her put them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. There are tiny sandwiches with their crusts cut off, chocolate-chip cookies the size of your hand and finally, my favourite, moon cakes, which are round pastries filled with a sweet red-bean filling. They’re Chinese and are usually eaten during Mid-Autumn Festival. Alanna knows they’re my favourite thing in the whole wide world and she often bakes them especially for me, with a nightingale stamped onto the top of each one. “Nightingale” is what she always calls me.

My Chinese Mama used to make the most delicious moon cakes for my birthday too. And she’d decorate the whole house with balloons and streamers and she’d draw me a beautiful card. She was a brilliant artist.

“Tuck in,” Alanna says to me, gesturing at the plates of food.

I help myself to a moon cake. It’s hard to swallow when I’m nervous, but I manage half of it. It tastes almost as good as Mama’s. Min doesn’t remember her or Papa. She was nearly two when Mama died; I was six. And then Papa died ten months later and we had no one. Ever since I opened the envelope this morning I can’t stop thinking about China and Mama and Papa, and it’s making me sad.

“You OK?” Mollie asks in a low voice.

I shrug.“Want to hear my new movie idea?” she asks, clearly trying to cheer me up. Mollie loves films. She recently decided that she wants to be a screenwriter or a movie director when she’s older. She’s always thinking up new plot ideas. With a TV-presenter mum, I guess it runs in the family.

“Movie?” Min pipes up. She’s sitting on the other side of me. “Can I be in it?”

“Sure,” Mollie says easily. “It’s about this girl who can turn into different animals. A shape-shifter. I need to find someone who can twitch their nose like a rabbit.”

“I’m a great twitcher,” Min says. “Watch.” She scrunches up her face and tries to wiggle her nose.

Mollie stifles a laugh. “Maybe you can be—”

“The star, of course,” Min says.

Mollie grins and rolls her eyes at me. “OK, Min, you can play the lead.” They start talking about the movie and gradually forget about me. Sometimes Min and Mollie include me in the conversation – they are used to asking me yes or no questions at this stage – sometimes they don’t. I’m used to that.

They don’t mean to leave me out and most of the time it’s a relief. Otherwise I have to do lots of nodding and gesturing, or Min has to jump in and answer for me. It can be frustrating, though, not being able to give my opinion when they’re talking about a movie I really like or a game I think is stupid.

I catch Mum watching me a couple of times while Min and Mollie are chatting. She has a funny look on her face, but I just smile at her and she smiles back.

After a while, Alanna disappears into the kitchen and returns with a birthday cake decorated with pink and white icing. She places it on the table in front of me with a “Ta-da!” There are tiny iced roses on it and a yellow ribbon is tied around the middle. It’s stunning. The thirteen candles are all flickering, waiting for me to blow them out.

I’m a bit overcome. Alanna’s gone to so much trouble today and everyone’s given me such thoughtful presents. I play with the tiny Click charm on my new bracelet, running my fingers over its sleek silver back as I think about the cake Mama baked for my sixth birthday. It was a giant moon cake with my name on it. She died two days later. By my seventh birthday, I was in the orphanage and all I got was a cupcake with a single birthday candle stuck in it, a book and a new hairband. I told Min this once and she didn’t believe me. She has no idea how lucky she is – living with Mum and Dad, who love buying us presents.

“Blow the candles out, Sunny,” Mum says.

I’m not sure I’ll have enough breath. And besides, I hate opening my mouth when there are strangers around.

“Will I help you?” Min whispers.

I give her a tiny nod. Together we take a deep breath. I try to pretend I’m at home, doing my milkshake breathing, and –
whoosh
– they’re out.

“Now close your eyes and make a wish, Sunny,” Alanna says.

I wish I could thank everyone for my presents
, I think, my eyes squeezed shut.
I wish I had a voice
.

I open my eyes, and before I know what’s happening they start to fill with tears. I look over at Min for help and she says something in Mum’s ear.

“I’m afraid we have to go,” Mum tells everyone. “Sunny’s dad is cooking a special birthday dinner and I promised we’d be back to help him.”

“But I can stay, can’t I, Mum?” Min says.

“If that’s OK with Sunny.” Mum looks at me.

I shrug and then nod. I know it’s supposed to be my birthday party, but Min will keep everyone entertained. She’s the fun one, not me.

“Hang on for a second, Sunny,” Alanna says. “I have something for you. Over here.” I follow her towards the cash desk, where she reaches into a drawer and then hands me a package. Inside is a beautiful red-leather-bound sketchbook with a pocket in the back.

I give her a big smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re a teenager now. I hope the year is good to you. You deserve the sun, the moon and the stars, my little nightingale.” She hugs me. She smells sweet – of wild flowers and baking.

I hug her back. I want to stay, chatting and laughing and having fun with my friends and eating all the goodies. But it doesn’t matter how much I want to do all that, I can’t. Not even on my birthday.

“Did you miss me, Sunny?”

I look up from my desk. Min is standing in the doorway to my room with one hand on her hip. She looks like she’s about to sing “I’m a Little Teapot” and it makes me smile.

“What are you laughing at?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

She comes inside and closes the door carefully behind her. Then she walks towards me and rests her bum against the edge of my desk. “Can I ask you something? Why can’t you talk outside the house? I know Mum and Dad have tried explaining it to me, but I still don’t really understand. And you never want to talk about it. I didn’t care that much before, but a girl at school was asking me why you’re always quiet and I didn’t know what to say. Dad said it’s none of her business and Mum said to tell her that you’re shy and don’t like strangers. Will you tell me about it? Just this once?”

I put down my pencil and close the sketchbook Alanna gave me. Min’s always trying to spy on my drawings. “I don’t like talking about it because I don’t know the answer,” I say. “It annoys me too. I’d speak if I could. I just can’t, OK?” I start to chew my lip. I hate talking about this.

“Is that why Mum and Dad said I wasn’t to ask you? Cos you get all upset? You won’t tell on me, will you?”

“I’m not going to tell on you. And I’m not upset. Look, it’s complicated.”

“Make it uncomplicated then.”

I know I’m not going to get rid of her without answering her question, and she does deserve an explanation. It can’t be easy having me as a sister. I try to think how I can explain it to her. Then I get an idea. “OK, what would happen if Mum and Dad said you had to sleep in your own bedroom?” I ask.

Min shifts around a little. “Alone, you mean?”

“Yes.” Every night after Mum and Dad say good night to her, Min sneaks into my bed. She sleeps there all night. Mum and Dad have tried getting her to stay in her own room, but she won’t.

She pouts. “I wouldn’t like it.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Min, that was last year. There are no spiders—”

She clamps her hands over her ears. “Don’t say the
S
word.”

“Sorry. The
S
thing was a one-off. A weird, crazy, freaky thing that will never happen again.” Poor Min. She was lying in bed one night when hundreds of tiny baby spiders came parachuting down on silky threads and landed on her bed. Their mother had attached a large egg sack to the light fitting and they’d hatched. I’ve never heard anyone scream so loudly. She’s refused to sleep in her room ever since.

“How do you know that?” she asks.

“I just do. You hate the
S
word, right?”

“Yes!” She nods firmly. “They’re evil.”

“And they make you feel scared and nervous even though you know they’re tiny and can’t hurt you.”

“They’re disgusting. Stop talking about them.” She shudders.

“The way you’re feeling now, that’s how I feel when I think about having to talk in front of strangers.” Even using the words “strangers” and “talk” in the same sentence is making my heart race.

Min thinks about this for a second. “So it’s like a phobia?”

“I guess.”

“Can I tell people you have a talking phobia? Like I have an
S
-word phobia?”

“OK.” It’s not a great explanation, but it’s better than nothing. “And it’s called arachnophobia – the fear of the eight-legged insects that shall not be named.”

She pulls a
that’s nasty
face and then says, “Can I ask you one more thing? Is that why you’re scared of going to China? Because of all the strangers?”

“How do you know I’m scared?”

“I saw your face when you opened that envelope with the plane tickets inside. There are a whole lot of people in China, aren’t there?”

I shrug. “That’s part of it. But also it makes me sad to think about Mama and Papa and everything. I know this is our home now, but I miss them sometimes. Don’t you?”

She thinks for a second, then says, “Not really. I remember Papa a bit, but not Mama. He was bald, wasn’t he? He used to let me rub his head.”

I smile. “That’s right.”

“Is it like the way I miss Woody? How you feel, I mean?” Woody was our dog before Goldie, our yellow Labrador. He was run over by a tractor two years ago and Min was really upset about it.

“Exactly,” I say.

She nods her head solemnly. “I get it. I’m sorry you feel sad, Sunny. Especially on your birthday.” She puts her arms around me and squeezes me tight. “But you’ve always got me.”

She’s so sweet; my eyes tear up again.

Later, when Min’s out walking Goldie with Mum, I sit at my desk and stare at the large white envelope holding the plane tickets for China. As soon as I opened the envelope this morning, I started to get that fluttery-scared feeling in my stomach and I could feel my eyes blinking fast.

“Are you all right, Sunny?” Dad asked. He’d noticed that I’d gone all quiet.

“I’m just excited,” I said. “Thanks – it’s a brilliant present.”

“Do they have a Disney World in China?” Min jumped in. “Can we go?”

Mum laughed. “Min, we can go to Disney World anytime.”

Dad nodded. “Your mum’s right, Minnie Mouse. We’ll be far too busy to bother with a theme park.”

Min looked disappointed for a moment, but she bounced back quickly and started asking lots of questions about what we would do in China.

Mum told her to be quiet. She had a worried look on her face. “Sunny, we don’t have to go on the trip if you don’t want to,” she said.